diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/53430-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53430-0.txt | 10215 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 10215 deletions
diff --git a/old/53430-0.txt b/old/53430-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8737366..0000000 --- a/old/53430-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10215 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Principia Ethica, by George Edward Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Principia Ethica - -Author: George Edward Moore - -Release Date: November 2, 2016 [EBook #53430] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCIPIA ETHICA *** - - - - -Produced by Josep Cols Canals, Ramon Pajares Box and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - * Italics are denoted by underscores as in _italics_. - - * Bold text is denoted by equals as in =bold=. - - * Small caps are represented in upper case as in SMALL CAPS. - - * Obvious printer errors have been silently corrected. - - * Original spelling was kept, but variant spellings were made - consistent when a predominant usage was found. - - * Footnotes have been renumbered into a single series. Each footnote - is placed at the end of the paragraph which includes its anchor. - - - - -PRINCIPIA ETHICA - - - - - CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS - C. F. CLAY, MANAGER - LONDON: FETTER LANE, E.C. 4 - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO. - BOMBAY } - CALCUTTA } MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. - MADRAS } - TORONTO: THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. - TOKYO: MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - PRINCIPIA ETHICA - - BY - GEORGE EDWARD MOORE - - LITT.D. CAMBRIDGE, HON. LL.D. ST ANDREWS, - FELLOW OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY, - LECTURER IN MORAL SCIENCE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE - - - “Everything is what it is, - and not another thing” - BISHOP BUTLER - - - CAMBRIDGE - AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS - 1922 - - - - - _First Edition_ 1903 - _Reprinted_ 1922 - - - - - DOCTORIBUS AMICISQUE CANTABRIGIENSIBUS - DISCIPULUS AMICUS CANTABRIGIENSIS - PRIMITIAS - D. D. D. - AUCTOR - - - - -PREFACE. - - -It appears to me that in Ethics, as in all other philosophical studies, -the difficulties and disagreements, of which its history is full, are -mainly due to a very simple cause: namely to the attempt to answer -questions, without first discovering precisely _what_ question it -is which you desire to answer. I do not know how far this source of -error would be done away, if philosophers would _try_ to discover what -question they were asking, before they set about to answer it; for the -work of analysis and distinction is often very difficult: we may often -fail to make the necessary discovery, even though we make a definite -attempt to do so. But I am inclined to think that in many cases a -resolute attempt would be sufficient to ensure success; so that, if -only this attempt were made, many of the most glaring difficulties -and disagreements in philosophy would disappear. At all events, -philosophers seem, in general, not to make the attempt; and, whether in -consequence of this omission or not, they are constantly endeavouring -to prove that ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ will answer questions, to which _neither_ -answer is correct, owing to the fact that what they have before their -minds is not one question, but several, to some of which the true -answer is ‘No,’ to others ‘Yes.’ - -I have tried in this book to distinguish clearly two kinds of question, -which moral philosophers have always professed to answer, but which, -as I have tried to shew, they have almost always confused both with one -another and with other questions. These two questions may be expressed, -the first in the form: What kind of things ought to exist for their -own sakes? the second in the form: What kind of actions ought we to -perform? I have tried to shew exactly what it is that we ask about a -thing, when we ask whether it ought to exist for its own sake, is good -in itself or has intrinsic value; and exactly what it is that we ask -about an action, when we ask whether we ought to do it, whether it is a -right action or a duty. - -But from a clear insight into the nature of these two questions, there -appears to me to follow a second most important result: namely, what -is the nature of the evidence, by which alone any ethical proposition -can be proved or disproved, confirmed or rendered doubtful. Once we -recognise the exact meaning of the two questions, I think it also -becomes plain exactly what kind of reasons are relevant as arguments -for or against any particular answer to them. It becomes plain that, -for answers to the _first_ question, no relevant evidence whatever -can be adduced: from no other truth, except themselves alone, can it -be inferred that they are either true or false. We can guard against -error only by taking care, that, when we try to answer a question of -this kind, we have before our minds that question only, and not some -other or others; but that there is great danger of such errors of -confusion I have tried to shew, and also what are the chief precautions -by the use of which we may guard against them. As for the _second_ -question, it becomes equally plain, that any answer to it _is_ capable -of proof or disproof--that, indeed, so many different considerations -are relevant to its truth or falsehood, as to make the attainment of -probability very difficult, and the attainment of certainty impossible. -Nevertheless the _kind_ of evidence, which is both necessary and alone -relevant to such proof and disproof, is capable of exact definition. -Such evidence must contain propositions of two kinds and of two kinds -only: it must consist, in the first place, of truths with regard to -the results of the action in question--of _causal_ truths--but it must -_also_ contain ethical truths of our first or self-evident class. Many -truths of both kinds are necessary to the proof that any action ought -to be done; and any other kind of evidence is wholly irrelevant. It -follows that, if any ethical philosopher offers for propositions of -the first kind any evidence whatever, or if, for propositions of the -second kind, he either fails to adduce both causal and ethical truths, -or adduces truths that are neither, his reasoning has not the least -tendency to establish his conclusions. But not only are his conclusions -totally devoid of weight: we have, moreover, reason to suspect him -of the error of confusion; since the offering of irrelevant evidence -generally indicates that the philosopher who offers it has had before -his mind, not the question which he professes to answer, but some other -entirely different one. Ethical discussion, hitherto, has perhaps -consisted chiefly in reasoning of this totally irrelevant kind. - -One main object of this book may, then, be expressed by slightly -changing one of Kant’s famous titles. I have endeavoured to write -‘Prolegomena to any future Ethics that can possibly pretend to be -scientific.’ In other words, I have endeavoured to discover what are -the fundamental principles of ethical reasoning; and the establishment -of these principles, rather than of any conclusions which may be -attained by their use, may be regarded as my main object. I have, -however, also attempted, in Chapter VI, to present some conclusions, -with regard to the proper answer of the question ‘What is good in -itself?’ which are very different from any which have commonly been -advocated by philosophers. I have tried to define the classes within -which all great goods and evils fall; and I have maintained that very -many different things are good and evil in themselves, and that -neither class of things possesses any other property which is both -common to all its members and peculiar to them. - -In order to express the fact that ethical propositions of my _first_ -class are incapable of proof or disproof, I have sometimes followed -Sidgwick’s usage in calling them ‘Intuitions.’ But I beg it may be -noticed that I am not an ‘Intuitionist,’ in the ordinary sense of -the term. Sidgwick himself seems never to have been clearly aware -of the immense importance of the difference which distinguishes his -Intuitionism from the common doctrine, which has generally been called -by that name. The Intuitionist proper is distinguished by maintaining -that propositions of my _second_ class--propositions which assert that -a certain action is _right_ or a _duty_--are incapable of proof or -disproof by any enquiry into the results of such actions. I, on the -contrary, am no less anxious to maintain that propositions of _this_ -kind are _not_ ‘Intuitions,’ than to maintain that propositions of my -_first_ class _are_ Intuitions. - -Again, I would wish it observed that, when I call such propositions -‘Intuitions,’ I mean _merely_ to assert that they are incapable of -proof; I imply nothing whatever as to the manner or origin of our -cognition of them. Still less do I imply (as most Intuitionists have -done) that any proposition whatever is true, _because_ we cognise it in -a particular way or by the exercise of any particular faculty: I hold, -on the contrary, that in every way in which it is possible to cognise a -true proposition, it is also possible to cognise a false one. - -When this book had been already completed, I found, in Brentano’s -‘Origin of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong[1],’ opinions far more -closely resembling my own, than those of any other ethical writer with -whom I am acquainted. Brentano appears to agree with me completely -(1) in regarding all ethical propositions as defined by the fact that -they predicate a single unique objective concept; (2) in dividing such -propositions sharply into the same two kinds; (3) in holding that the -first kind are incapable of proof; and (4) with regard to the kind of -evidence which is necessary and relevant to the proof of the second -kind. But he regards the fundamental ethical concept as being, not -the simple one which I denote by ‘good,’ but the complex one which I -have taken to define ‘beautiful’; and he does not recognise, but even -denies by implication, the principle which I have called _the principle -of organic unities_. In consequence of these two differences, his -conclusions as to what things are good in themselves, also differ very -materially from mine. He agrees, however, that there are many different -goods, and that the love of good and beautiful objects constitutes an -important class among them. - - [1] ‘The Origin of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong.’ By Franz - Brentano. English Translation by Cecil Hague. Constable, 1902.--I - have written a review of this book, which will, I hope, appear - in the _International Journal of Ethics_ for October, 1903. I - may refer to this review for a fuller account of my reasons for - disagreeing with Brentano. - -I wish to refer to one oversight, of which I became aware only when -it was too late to correct it, and which may, I am afraid, cause -unnecessary trouble to some readers. I have omitted to discuss directly -the mutual relations of the several different notions, which are -all expressed by the word ‘end.’ The consequences of this omission -may perhaps be partially avoided by a reference to my article on -‘Teleology’ in Baldwin’s _Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology_. - -If I were to rewrite my work now, I should make a very different, and -I believe that I could make a much better book. But it may be doubted -whether, in attempting to satisfy myself, I might not merely render -more obscure the ideas which I am most anxious to convey, without a -corresponding gain in completeness and accuracy. However that may be, -my belief that to publish the book as it stands was probably the best -thing I could do, does not prevent me from being painfully aware that -it is full of defects. - -TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. -_August_, 1903. - - -[This book is now reprinted without any alteration whatever, except -that a few misprints and grammatical mistakes have been corrected. It -is reprinted, because I am still in agreement with its main tendency -and conclusions; and it is reprinted without alteration, because I -found that, if I were to begin correcting what in it seemed to me to -need correction, I could not stop short of rewriting the whole book. - - G. E. M.] - -CAMBRIDGE, 1922. - - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF ETHICS. - - A. - - SECTION. PAGE - - =1.= In order to define Ethics, we must discover what is both - common and peculiar to all undoubted ethical judgments; 1 - - =2.= but this is not that they are concerned with human - conduct, but that they are concerned with a certain predicate - ‘good,’ and its converse ‘bad,’ which may be applied both to - conduct and to other things. 1 - - =3.= The subjects of the judgments of a scientific Ethics are - not, like those of some studies, ‘particular things’; 3 - - =4.= but it includes all _universal_ judgments which assert - the relation of ‘goodness’ to any subject, and hence includes - Casuistry. 3 - - B. - - =5.= It must, however, enquire not only what things are - universally related to goodness, but also, what this predicate, - to which they are related, is: 5 - - =6.= and the answer to this question is that it is indefinable 6 - - =7.= or simple: for if by definition be meant the analysis of - an object of thought, only complex objects can be defined; 7 - - =8.= and of the three senses in which ‘definition’ can be used, - this is the most important. 8 - - =9.= What is thus indefinable is not ‘the good,’ or the whole - of that which always possesses the predicate ‘good,’ but this - predicate itself. 8 - - =10.= ‘Good,’ then, denotes one unique simple object of thought - among innumerable others; but this object has very commonly - been identified with some other--a fallacy which may be called - ‘the naturalistic fallacy’ 9 - - =11.= and which reduces what is used as a fundamental principle - of Ethics either to a tautology or to a statement about the - meaning of a word. 10 - - =12.= The nature of this fallacy is easily recognised; 12 - - =13.= and if it were avoided, it would be plain that the only - alternatives to the admission that ‘good’ is indefinable, are - either that it is complex or that there is no notion at all - peculiar to Ethics--alternatives which can only be refuted by - an appeal to inspection, but which can be so refuted. 15 - - =14.= The ‘naturalistic fallacy’ illustrated by Bentham; and - the importance of avoiding it pointed out. 17 - - C. - - =15.= The relations which ethical judgments assert to hold - universally between ‘goodness’ and other things are of two - kinds: a thing may be asserted either to _be_ good itself or to - be causally related to something else which is itself good--to - be ‘good as a means.’ 21 - - =16.= Our investigations of the latter kind of relation cannot - hope to establish more than that a certain kind of action will - _generally_ be followed by the best possible results; 22 - - =17.= but a relation of the former kind, if true at all, - will be true of all cases. All ordinary ethical judgments - assert _causal_ relations, but they are commonly treated as - if they did not, because the two kinds of relation are not - distinguished. 23 - - D. - - =18.= The investigation of intrinsic values is complicated by - the fact that the value of a whole may be different from the - sum of the values of its parts, 27 - - =19.= in which case the part has to the whole a relation, which - exhibits an equally important difference from and resemblance - to that of means to end. 29 - - =20.= The term ‘organic whole’ might well be used to denote - that a whole has this property, since, of the two other - properties which it is commonly used to imply, 30 - - =21.= one that of reciprocal causal dependence between parts, - has no necessary relation to this one, 31 - - =22.= and the other, upon which most stress has been laid, can - be true of no whole whatsoever, being a self-contradictory - conception due to confusion. 33 - - =23.= Summary of chapter. 36 - - - CHAPTER II. - - NATURALISTIC ETHICS. - - =24.= This and the two following chapters will consider certain - proposed answers to the second of ethical questions: What is - _good in itself_? These proposed answers are characterised by - the facts (1) that they declare some _one_ kind of thing to be - alone good in itself; and (2) that they do so, because they - suppose this _one_ thing to define the meaning of ‘good.’ 37 - - =25.= Such theories may be divided into two groups (1) - Metaphysical, (2) Naturalistic: and the second group may be - subdivided into two others, (_a_) theories which declare some - natural object, other than pleasure, to be sole good, (_b_) - Hedonism. The present chapter will deal with (_a_). 38 - - =26.= Definition of what is meant by ‘Naturalism.’ 39 - - =27.= The common argument that things are good, because they - are ‘natural,’ may involve either (1) the false proposition - that the ‘normal,’ as such, is good; 41 - - =28.= or (2) the false proposition that the ‘necessary,’ as - such, is good. 44 - - =29.= But a _systematised_ appeal to Nature is now most - prevalent in connection with the term ‘Evolution.’ An - examination of Mr Herbert Spencer’s Ethics will illustrate this - form of Naturalism. 45 - - =30.= Darwin’s scientific theory of ‘natural selection,’ which - has mainly caused the modern vogue of the term ‘Evolution,’ - must be carefully distinguished from certain ideas which are - commonly associated with the latter term. 47 - - =31.= Mr Spencer’s connection of Evolution with Ethics seems to - shew the influence of the naturalistic fallacy; 48 - - =32.= but Mr Spencer is vague as to the ethical relations of - ‘pleasure’ and ‘evolution,’ and his Naturalism may be mainly - Naturalistic Hedonism. 49 - - =33.= A discussion of the third chapter of the _Data of Ethics_ - serves to illustrate these two points and to shew that Mr - Spencer is in utter confusion with regard to the fundamental - principles of Ethics. 51 - - =34.= Three possible views as to the relation of Evolution to - Ethics are distinguished from the naturalistic view to which - it is proposed to confine the name ‘Evolutionistic Ethics.’ On - any of these three views the relation would be unimportant, and - the ‘Evolutionistic’ view, which makes it important, involves a - double fallacy. 54 - - =35.= Summary of chapter. 58 - - - CHAPTER III. - - HEDONISM. - - =36.= The prevalence of Hedonism is mainly due to the - naturalistic fallacy. 59 - - =37.= Hedonism may be defined as the doctrine that ‘Pleasure is - the sole good’: this doctrine has always been held by Hedonists - and used by them as a fundamental ethical principle, although - it has commonly been confused with others. 61 - - =38.= The method pursued in this chapter will consist in - exposing the reasons commonly offered for the truth of Hedonism - and in bringing out the reasons, which suffice to shew it - untrue, by a criticism of J. S. Mill & H. Sidgwick. 63 - - A. - - =39.= Mill declares that ‘Happiness is the only thing desirable - as an end,’ and insists that ‘Questions of ultimate ends are - not amenable to direct proof’; 64 - - =40.= yet he gives a proof of the first proposition, which - consists in (1) the fallacious confusion of ‘desirable’ with - ‘desired,’ 66 - - =41.= (2) an attempt to shew that nothing but pleasure is - desired. 67 - - =42.= The theory that nothing but pleasure is desired seems - largely due to a confusion between the _cause_ and the _object_ - of desire: pleasure is certainly not the sole _object_ of - desire, and, even if it is always among the _causes_ of desire, - that fact would not tempt anyone to think it a good. 68 - - =43.= Mill attempts to reconcile his doctrine that pleasure is - the sole object of desire with his admission that other things - are desired, by the absurd declaration that what is a means to - happiness is ‘part’ of happiness. 71 - - =44.= Summary of Mill’s argument and of my criticism. 72 - - B. - - =45.= We must now proceed to consider the principle of Hedonism - as an ‘Intuition,’ as which it has been clearly recognised - by Prof. Sidgwick alone. That it should be thus incapable of - _proof_ is not, in itself, any reason for dissatisfaction. 74 - - =46.= In thus beginning to consider what things are good in - themselves, we leave the refutation of Naturalism behind, and - enter on the second division of ethical questions. 76 - - =47.= Mill’s doctrine that some pleasures are superior ‘in - quality’ to others implies both (1) that judgments of ends must - be ‘intuitions’; 77 - - =48.= and (2) that pleasure is _not_ the sole good. 79 - - =49.= Prof. Sidgwick has avoided these confusions made by - Mill: in considering his arguments we shall, therefore, merely - consider the question ‘Is pleasure the sole good?’ 81 - - =50.= Prof. Sidgwick first tries to shew that nothing outside - of Human Existence can be good. Reasons are given for doubting - this. 81 - - =51.= He then goes on to the far more important proposition - that no part of Human Existence, except pleasure, is desirable. 85 - - =52.= But _pleasure_ must be distinguished from _consciousness - of pleasure_, and (1) it is plain that, when so distinguished, - _pleasure_ is not the sole good; 87 - - =53.= and (2) it may be made equally plain that _consciousness - of pleasure_ is not the sole good, if we are equally careful to - distinguish it from its usual accompaniments. 90 - - =54.= Of Prof. Sidgwick’s two arguments for the contrary view, - the second is equally compatible with the supposition that - pleasure is a mere _criterion_ of what is _right_; 91 - - =55.= and in his first, the appeal to reflective intuition, - he fails to put the question clearly (1) in that he does not - recognise the principle of _organic unities_; 92 - - =56.= and (2) in that he fails to emphasize that the agreement, - which he has tried to shew, between hedonistic judgments and - those of Common Sense, only holds of _judgments of means_: - hedonistic judgments of _ends_ are flagrantly paradoxical. 94 - - =57.= I conclude, then, that a reflective intuition, if proper - precautions are taken, will agree with Common Sense that it is - absurd to regard mere consciousness of pleasure as the sole - good. 95 - - C. - - =58.= It remains to consider Egoism and Utilitarianism. It - is important to distinguish the former, as the doctrine that - ‘my own pleasure is sole good,’ from the doctrine, opposed to - Altruism, that to pursue my own pleasure exclusively is right - _as a means_. 96 - - =59.= Egoism proper is utterly untenable, being - self-contradictory: it fails to perceive that when I declare - a thing to be my own good, I must be declaring it to be _good - absolutely_ or else not good at all. 97 - - =60.= This confusion is further brought out by an examination - of Prof. Sidgwick’s contrary view; 99 - - =61.= and it is shewn that, in consequence of this confusion, - his representation of ‘the relation of Rational Egoism to - Rational Benevolence’ as ‘the profoundest problem of Ethics,’ - and his view that a certain hypothesis is required to ‘make - Ethics rational,’ are grossly erroneous. 102 - - =62.= The same confusion is involved in the attempt to infer - Utilitarianism from Psychological Hedonism, as commonly held, - _e.g._ by Mill. 104 - - =63.= Egoism proper seems also to owe its plausibility to its - confusion with Egoism, as a doctrine of means. 105 - - =64.= Certain ambiguities in the conception of Utilitarianism - are noticed; and it is pointed out (1) that, as a doctrine - of the end to be pursued, it is finally refuted by the - refutation of Hedonism, and (2) that, while the arguments most - commonly urged in its favour could, at most, only shew it to - offer a correct _criterion_ of right action, they are quite - insufficient even for this purpose. 105 - - =65.= Summary of chapter. 108 - - - CHAPTER IV. - - METAPHYSICAL ETHICS. - - A. - - =66.= The term ‘metaphysical’ is defined as having reference - primarily to any object of knowledge which is not a part of - Nature--does not exist in time, as an object of perception; but - since metaphysicians, not content with pointing out the truth - about such entities, have always supposed that what does not - exist in Nature, must, at least, _exist_, the term also has - reference to a supposed ‘supersensible reality’: 110 - - =67.= and by ‘metaphysical Ethics’ I mean those systems which - maintain or imply that the answer to the question ‘What is - good?’ _logically depends_ upon the answer to the question - ‘What is the nature of supersensible reality?.’ All such - systems obviously involve the same fallacy--the ‘naturalistic - fallacy’--by the use of which Naturalism was also defined. 113 - - =68.= Metaphysics, as dealing with a ‘supersensible reality,’ - may have a bearing upon _practical_ Ethics (1) if its - supersensible reality is conceived as something future, which - our actions can affect; and (2) since it will prove that - _every_ proposition of practical Ethics is false, if it can - shew that an eternal reality is either the only real thing - or the only good thing. Most metaphysical writers, believing - in a reality of the latter kind, do thus imply the complete - falsehood of every practical proposition, although they fail to - see that their Metaphysics thus contradicts their Ethics. 115 - - B. - - =69.= But the theory, by which I have defined Metaphysical - Ethics, is _not_ that Metaphysics has a logical bearing upon - the question involved in _practical_ Ethics ‘What effects will - my action produce?,’ but that it has such a bearing upon the - fundamental ethical question ‘What is good in itself?.’ This - theory has been refuted by the proof, in Chap. I, that the - naturalistic fallacy is a fallacy: it only remains to discuss - certain confusions which seem to have lent it plausibility. 118 - - =70.= One such source of confusion seems to lie in the failure - to distinguish between the proposition ‘This is good,’ when - it means ‘This _existing_ thing is good,’ and the same - proposition, when it means ‘The existence of this _kind_ of - thing would be good’; 118 - - =71.= and another seems to lie in the failure to distinguish - between that which _suggests_ a truth, or is a _cause_ of - our knowing it, and that upon which it _logically_ depends, - or which is a _reason_ for believing it: in the former - sense fiction has a more important bearing upon Ethics than - Metaphysics can have. 121 - - C. - - =72.= But a more important source of confusion seems to lie - in the supposition that ‘to be good’ is _identical_ with the - possession of some supersensible property, which is also - involved in the definition of ‘reality.’ 122 - - =73.= One cause of this supposition seems to be the logical - prejudice that all propositions are of the most familiar - type--that in which subject and predicate are both existents. 123 - - =74.= But ethical propositions cannot be reduced to this type: - in particular, they are obviously to be distinguished 125 - - =75.= (1) from Natural Laws; with which one of Kant’s most - famous doctrines confuses them, 126 - - =76.= and (2) from Commands; with which they are confused both - by Kant and by others. 127 - - D. - - =77.= This latter confusion is one of the sources of the - prevalent modern doctrine that ‘being good’ is _identical_ with - ‘being willed’; but the prevalence of this doctrine seems to be - chiefly due to other causes. I shall try to shew with regard - to it (1) what are the chief errors which seem to have led to - its adoption; and (2) that, apart from it, the Metaphysics of - Volition can hardly have the smallest logical bearing upon - Ethics. 128 - - =78.= (1) It has been commonly held, since Kant, that - ‘goodness’ has the same relation to Will or Feeling, which - ‘truth’ or ‘reality’ has to Cognition: that the proper method - for Ethics is to discover what is _implied_ in Will or Feeling, - just as, according to Kant, the proper method for Metaphysics - was to discover what is _implied_ in Cognition. 129 - - =79.= The actual relations between ‘goodness’ and Will or - Feeling, from which this false doctrine is inferred, seem to - be mainly (_a_) the _causal_ relation consisting in the fact - that it is only by reflection upon the experiences of Will and - Feeling that we become aware of ethical distinctions; (_b_) the - facts that a cognition of goodness is perhaps _always_ included - in certain kinds of Willing and Feeling, and is _generally_ - accompanied by them: 130 - - =80.= but from neither of these _psychological_ facts does it - follow that ‘to be good’ is identical with being willed or - felt in a certain way: the supposition that it does follow - is an instance of the fundamental contradiction of modern - Epistemology--the contradiction involved in both distinguishing - and identifying the _object_ and the _act_ of Thought, ‘truth’ - itself and its supposed _criterion_: 131 - - =81.= and, once this analogy between Volition and Cognition is - accepted, the view that ethical propositions have an essential - reference to Will or Feeling, is strengthened by another error - with regard to the nature of Cognition--the error of supposing - that ‘perception’ denotes _merely_ a certain way of cognising - an object, whereas it actually includes the assertion that the - object is also _true_. 133 - - =82.= The argument of the last three §§ is recapitulated; and - it is pointed out (1) that Volition and Feeling are _not_ - analogous to Cognition, (2) that, even if they were, still ‘to - be good’ could not _mean_ ‘to be willed or felt in a certain - way.’ 135 - - =83.= (2) If ‘being good’ and ‘being willed’ are not - _identical_, then the latter could only be a _criterion_ of the - former; and, in order to shew that it was so, we should have - to establish _independently_ that many things were good--that - is to say, we should have to establish most of our ethical - conclusions, before the Metaphysics of Volition could possibly - give us the smallest assistance. 137 - - =84.= The fact that the metaphysical writers who, like Green, - attempt to _base_ Ethics on Volition, do not even attempt this - independent investigation, shews that they start from the false - assumption that goodness is _identical_ with being willed, and - hence that their ethical reasonings have no value whatsoever. 138 - - =85.= Summary of chapter. 139 - - - CHAPTER V. - - ETHICS IN RELATION TO CONDUCT. - - =86.= The question to be discussed in this chapter must - be clearly distinguished from the two questions hitherto - discussed, namely (1) What is the nature of the proposition: - ‘This is good in itself’? 142 - - =87.= and (2) What things are good in themselves? to which we - gave one answer in deciding that pleasure was not the only - thing good in itself. 144 - - =88.= In this chapter we shall deal with the _third_ object of - ethical enquiry: namely answers to the question ‘What conduct - is a _means_ to good results?’ or ‘What ought we to do?’ This - is the question of _Practical_ Ethics, and its answer involves - an assertion of _causal_ connection. 146 - - =89.= It is shewn that the assertions ‘This action is right’ - or ‘is my duty’ are equivalent to the assertion that the total - results of the action in question will be the best possible; 146 - - =90.= and the rest of the chapter will deal with certain - conclusions, upon which light is thrown by this fact. Of which - the first is (1) that Intuitionism is mistaken; since no - proposition with regard to duty can be self-evident. 148 - - =91.= (2) It is plain that we cannot hope to prove which - among all the actions, which it is possible for us to perform - on every occasion, will produce the best total results: - to discover what is our ‘duty,’ in this strict sense, is - impossible. It may, however, be possible to shew which among - the actions, which we are _likely_ to perform, will produce - the best results. 149 - - =92.= The distinction made in the last § is further explained; - and it is insisted that all that Ethics has done or can do, is, - _not_ to determine absolute duties, but to point out which, - among a _few_ of the alternatives, possible under _certain_ - circumstances, will have the better results. 150 - - =93.= (3) Even this latter task is immensely difficult, and - no adequate proof that the total results of one action are - superior to those of another, has ever been given. For (_a_) - we can only calculate actual results within a comparatively - near future: we must, therefore, assume that no results of the - same action in the infinite future beyond, will reverse the - balance--an assumption which perhaps _can_ be, but certainly - has not been, justified; 152 - - =94.= and (_b_) even to decide that, of any two actions, one - has a better total result than the other _in the immediate - future_, is very difficult; and it is very improbable, and - quite impossible to prove, that any single action is _in all - cases_ better as means than its probable alternative. Rules - of duty, even in this restricted sense, can only, at most, be - _general_ truths. 154 - - =95.= But (_c_) most of the actions, most universally approved - by Common Sense, may perhaps be shewn to be _generally_ better - as means than any probable alternative, on the following - principles. (1) With regard to some rules it may be shewn - that their general observance would be useful in any state of - society, where the instincts to preserve and propagate life and - to possess property were as strong as they seem always to be; - and this utility may be shewn, independently of a right view as - to what is good in itself, since the observance is a means to - things which are a necessary condition for the attainment of - _any_ great goods in considerable quantities. 155 - - =96.= (2) Other rules are such that their general observance - can only be shewn to be useful, as means to the preservation - of society, under more or less temporary conditions: if any of - these are to be proved useful in _all_ societies, this can only - be done by shewing their causal relation to things good or evil - in themselves, which are not generally recognised to be such. 158 - - =97.= It is plain that rules of class (1) may _also_ be - justified by the existence of such temporary conditions as - justify those of class (2); and among such temporary conditions - must be reckoned the so-called _sanctions_. 159 - - =98.= In this way, then, it may be possible to prove the - _general_ utility, for the present, of those actions, which in - our society are _both_ generally recognised as duties _and_ - generally practised; but it seems very doubtful whether a - conclusive case can be established for any proposed change in - social custom, without an independent investigation of what - things are good or bad in themselves. 159 - - =99.= And (_d_) if we consider the distinct question of how a - single individual should decide to act (α) in cases where the - _general_ utility of the action in question is certain, (β) in - other cases: there seems reason for thinking that, with regard - to (α), where the generally useful rule is also generally - observed, he should _always_ conform to it; but these reasons - are not conclusive, if _either_ the general observance _or_ the - general utility is wanting: 162 - - =100.= and that (β) in all other cases, _rules of action_ - should not be followed at all, but the individual should - consider what positive goods, _he_, in his particular - circumstances, seems likely to be able to effect, and what - evils to avoid. 164 - - =101.= (4) It follows further that the distinction denoted by - the terms ‘duty’ and ‘expediency’ is not primarily ethical: - when we ask ‘Is this really expedient?’ we are asking precisely - the same question as when we ask ‘Is this my duty?,’ viz. - ‘Is this a means to the best possible?.’ ‘Duties’ are mainly - distinguished by the non-ethical marks (1) that many people - are often tempted to avoid them, (2) that their most prominent - effects are on others than the agent, (3) that they excite - the moral sentiments: so far as they _are_ distinguished by - an ethical peculiarity, this is not that they are peculiarly - useful to perform, but that they are peculiarly useful to - sanction. 167 - - =102.= The distinction between ‘duty’ and ‘interest’ is - also, in the main, the same non-ethical distinction: but - the term ‘interested’ does also refer to a distinct ethical - predicate--that an action is to ‘my interest’ asserts only that - it will have the best possible effects of one particular kind, - not that its total effects will be the best possible. 170 - - =103.= (5) We may further see that ‘virtues’ are not to be - defined as dispositions that are good in themselves: they are - not necessarily more than dispositions to perform actions - generally good as means, and of these, for the most part, - only those classed as ‘duties’ in accordance with section - (4). It follows that to decide whether a disposition is or is - not ‘virtuous’ involves the difficult causal investigation - discussed in section (3); and that what is a virtue in one - state of society may not be so in another. 171 - - =104.= It follows also that we have no reason to presume, as - has commonly been done, that the exercise of virtue in the - performance of ‘duties’ is ever good in itself--far less, that - it is the sole good: 173 - - =105.= and, if we consider the intrinsic value of such - exercise, it will appear (1) that, in most cases, it has no - value, and (2) that even the cases, where it has some value, - are far from constituting the sole good. The truth of the - latter proposition is generally inconsistently implied, even by - those who deny it; 174 - - =106.= but in order fairly to decide upon the intrinsic value - of virtue, we must distinguish three different kinds of - disposition, each of which is commonly so called and has been - maintained to be the only kind deserving the name. Thus (_a_) - the mere unconscious ‘habit’ of performing duties, which is the - commonest type, has no intrinsic value whatsoever; Christian - moralists are right in implying that mere ‘external rightness’ - has no intrinsic value, though they are wrong in saying that it - is therefore not ‘virtuous,’ since this implies that it has no - value even as a means: 175 - - =107.= (_b_) where virtue consists in a disposition to have, - and be moved by, a sentiment of love towards really good - consequences of an action and of hatred towards really evil - ones, it has some intrinsic value, but its value may vary - greatly in degree: 177 - - =108.= finally (_c_) where virtue consists in - ‘conscientiousness,’ _i.e._ the disposition not to act, in - certain cases, until we believe and feel that our action is - right, it seems to have some intrinsic value: the value of this - feeling has been peculiarly emphasized by Christian Ethics, but - it certainly is not, as Kant would lead us to think, either the - sole thing of value, or always good even as a means. 178 - - =109.= Summary of chapter. 180 - - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE IDEAL. - - =110.= By an ‘ideal’ state of things may be meant either (1) - the Summum Bonum or absolutely best, or (2) the best which the - laws of nature allow to exist in this world, or (3) anything - greatly good in itself: this chapter will be principally - occupied with what is ideal in sense (3)--with answering the - fundamental question of Ethics; 183 - - =111.= but a correct answer to this question is an essential - step towards a correct view as to what is ‘ideal’ in senses (1) - and (2). 184 - - =112.= In order to obtain a correct answer to the question - ‘What is good in itself?’ we must consider what value things - would have if they existed absolutely by themselves; 187 - - =113.= and, if we use this method, it is obvious that personal - affection and aesthetic enjoyments include by far the greatest - goods with which we are acquainted. 188 - - =114.= If we begin by considering I. _Aesthetic Enjoyments_, it - is plain (1) that there is always _essential_ to these some one - of a great variety of different emotions, though these emotions - may have little value _by themselves_: 189 - - =115.= and (2) that a cognition of really beautiful qualities - is equally essential, and has equally little value by itself. 190 - - =116.= But (3) granted that the appropriate combination of - these two elements is always a considerable good and may be - a very great one, we may ask whether, where there is _added_ - to this _a true belief in the existence of the object of the - cognition_, the whole thus formed is not much more valuable - still. 192 - - =117.= I think that this question should be answered in the - affirmative; but in order to ensure that this judgment is - correct, we must carefully distinguish it 194 - - =118.= from the two judgments (_a_) that knowledge is valuable - _as a means_, (_b_) that, where the object of the cognition - is itself a good thing, its existence, of course, adds to the - value of the whole state of things: 195 - - =119.= if, however, we attempt to avoid being biassed by these - two facts, it still seems that mere true belief may be a - condition essential to great value. 197 - - =120.= We thus get a _third_ essential constituent of many - great goods; and in this way we are able to justify (1) the - attribution of value to _knowledge_, over and above its value - as a means, and (2) the intrinsic superiority of the proper - appreciation of a _real_ object over the appreciation of an - equally valuable object of mere imagination: emotions directed - towards real objects may thus, even if the object be inferior, - claim equality with the highest imaginative pleasures. 198 - - =121.= Finally (4) with regard to the _objects_ of the - cognition which is essential to these good wholes, it is the - business of Aesthetics to analyse their nature: it need only be - here remarked (1) that, by calling them ‘beautiful,’ we mean - that they have this relation to a _good_ whole; and (2) that - they are, for the most part, themselves complex wholes, such - that the admiring contemplation of the whole greatly exceeds - in value the sum of the values of the admiring contemplation of - the parts. 200 - - =122.= With regard to II. _Personal Affection_, the object is - here not merely beautiful but also good in itself; it appears, - however, that the appreciation of what is thus good in itself, - viz. the mental qualities of a person, is certainly, by itself, - not so great a good as the whole formed by the combination - with it of an appreciation of corporeal beauty; it is doubtful - whether it is even so great a good as the mere appreciation of - corporeal beauty; but it is certain that the combination of - both is a far greater good than either singly. 203 - - =123.= It follows from what has been said that we have every - reason to suppose that a cognition of _material qualities_, and - even their existence, is an essential constituent of the Ideal - or Summum Bonum: there is only a bare possibility that they are - not included in it. 205 - - =124.= It remains to consider _positive evils_ and _mixed - goods_. I. _Evils_ may be divided into three classes, namely 207 - - =125.= (1) evils which consist in the love, or admiration, or - enjoyment of what is evil or ugly 208 - - =126.= (2) evils which consist in the hatred or contempt of - what is good or beautiful 211 - - =127.= and (3) the consciousness of intense pain: this appears - to be the only thing, either greatly good or greatly evil, - which does not involve _both_ a cognition _and_ an emotion - directed towards its object; and hence it is not analogous to - pleasure in respect of its intrinsic value, while it also seems - not to add to the vileness of a whole, _as a whole_, in which - it is combined with another bad thing, whereas pleasure does - add to the goodness of a whole, in which it is combined with - another good thing; 212 - - =128.= but pleasure and pain are completely analogous in this, - that pleasure by no means always increases, and pain by no - means always decreases, the total value of a whole in which it - is included: the converse is often true. 213 - - =129.= In order to consider II. _Mixed Goods_, we must first - distinguish between (1) the value of a whole _as a whole_, - and (2) its value _on the whole_ or total value: (1) = the - difference between (2) and the sum of the values of the parts. - In view of this distinction, it then appears: 214 - - =130.= (1) That the mere combination of two or more evils is - never positively good _on the whole_, although it may certainly - have great intrinsic value _as a whole_; 216 - - =131.= but (2) That a whole which includes a cognition of - something evil or ugly may yet be a great positive good _on the - whole_: most virtues, which have any intrinsic value whatever, - seem to be of this kind, _e.g._ (_a_) courage and compassion, - and (_b_) moral goodness; all these are instances of the hatred - or contempt of what is evil or ugly; 216 - - =132.= but there seems no reason to think that, where the evil - object _exists_, the total state of things is ever positively - good _on the whole_, although the existence of the evil may add - to its value _as a whole_. 219 - - =133.= Hence (1) no actually existing evil is necessary to the - Ideal, (2) the contemplation of imaginary evils is necessary to - it, and (3) where evils already exist, the existence of mixed - virtues has a value independent both of its consequences and of - the value which it has in common with the proper appreciation - of imaginary evils. 220 - - =134.= Concluding remarks. 222 - - =135.= Summary of chapter. 224 - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF ETHICS. - - -=1.= It is very easy to point out some among our every-day judgments, -with the truth of which Ethics is undoubtedly concerned. Whenever -we say, ‘So and so is a good man,’ or ‘That fellow is a villain’; -whenever we ask, ‘What ought I to do?’ or ‘Is it wrong for me to do -like this?’; whenever we hazard such remarks as ‘Temperance is a virtue -and drunkenness a vice’--it is undoubtedly the business of Ethics -to discuss such questions and such statements; to argue what is the -true answer when we ask what it is right to do, and to give reasons -for thinking that our statements about the character of persons or -the morality of actions are true or false. In the vast majority of -cases, where we make statements involving any of the terms ‘virtue,’ -‘vice,’ ‘duty,’ ‘right,’ ‘ought,’ ‘good,’ ‘bad,’ we are making -ethical judgments; and if we wish to discuss their truth, we shall be -discussing a point of Ethics. - -So much as this is not disputed; but it falls very far short of -defining the province of Ethics. That province may indeed be defined as -the whole truth about that which is at the same time common to all such -judgments and peculiar to them. But we have still to ask the question: -What is it that is thus common and peculiar? And this is a question to -which very different answers have been given by ethical philosophers -of acknowledged reputation, and none of them, perhaps, completely -satisfactory. - - -=2.= If we take such examples as those given above, we shall not be -far wrong in saying that they are all of them concerned with the -question of ‘conduct’--with the question, what, in the conduct of us, -human beings, is good, and what is bad, what is right, and what is -wrong. For when we say that a man is good, we commonly mean that he -acts rightly; when we say that drunkenness is a vice, we commonly mean -that to get drunk is a wrong or wicked action. And this discussion of -human conduct is, in fact, that with which the name ‘Ethics’ is most -intimately associated. It is so associated by derivation; and conduct -is undoubtedly by far the commonest and most generally interesting -object of ethical judgments. - -Accordingly, we find that many ethical philosophers are disposed to -accept as an adequate definition of ‘Ethics’ the statement that it -deals with the question what is good or bad in human conduct. They hold -that its enquiries are properly confined to ‘conduct’ or to ‘practice’; -they hold that the name ‘practical philosophy’ covers all the matter -with which it has to do. Now, without discussing the proper meaning -of the word (for verbal questions are properly left to the writers of -dictionaries and other persons interested in literature; philosophy, -as we shall see, has no concern with them), I may say that I intend to -use ‘Ethics’ to cover more than this--a usage, for which there is, I -think, quite sufficient authority. I am using it to cover an enquiry -for which, at all events, there is no other word: the general enquiry -into what is good. - -Ethics is undoubtedly concerned with the question what good conduct -is; but, being concerned with this, it obviously does not start at the -beginning, unless it is prepared to tell us what is good as well as -what is conduct. For ‘good conduct’ is a complex notion: all conduct is -not good; for some is certainly bad and some may be indifferent. And on -the other hand, other things, beside conduct, may be good; and if they -are so, then, ‘good’ denotes some property, that is common to them and -conduct; and if we examine good conduct alone of all good things, then -we shall be in danger of mistaking for this property, some property -which is not shared by those other things: and thus we shall have made -a mistake about Ethics even in this limited sense; for we shall not -know what good conduct really is. This is a mistake which many writers -have actually made, from limiting their enquiry to conduct. And hence -I shall try to avoid it by considering first what is good in general; -hoping, that if we can arrive at any certainty about this, it will be -much easier to settle the question of good conduct: for we all know -pretty well what ‘conduct’ is. This, then, is our first question: What -is good? and What is bad? and to the discussion of this question (of -these questions) I give the name of Ethics, since that science must, at -all events, include it. - - -=3.= But this is a question which may have many meanings. If, for -example, each of us were to say ‘I am doing good now’ or ‘I had a -good dinner yesterday,’ these statements would each of them be some -sort of answer to our question, although perhaps a false one. So, too, -when A asks B what school he ought to send his son to, B’s answer -will certainly be an ethical judgment. And similarly all distribution -of praise or blame to any personage or thing that has existed, now -exists, or will exist, does give some answer to the question ‘What is -good?’ In all such cases some particular thing is judged to be good or -bad: the question ‘What?’ is answered by ‘This.’ But this is not the -sense in which a scientific Ethics asks the question. Not one, of all -the many million answers of this kind, which must be true, can form a -part of an ethical system; although that science must contain reasons -and principles sufficient for deciding on the truth of all of them. -There are far too many persons, things and events in the world, past, -present, or to come, for a discussion of their individual merits to be -embraced in any science. Ethics, therefore, does not deal at all with -facts of this nature, facts that are unique, individual, absolutely -particular; facts with which such studies as history, geography, -astronomy, are compelled, in part at least, to deal. And, for this -reason, it is not the business of the ethical philosopher to give -personal advice or exhortation. - - -=4.= But there is another meaning which may be given to the question -‘What is good?’ ‘Books are good’ would be an answer to it, though -an answer obviously false; for some books are very bad indeed. And -ethical judgments of this kind do indeed belong to Ethics; though -I shall not deal with many of them. Such is the judgment ‘Pleasure -is good’--a judgment, of which Ethics should discuss the truth, -although it is not nearly as important as that other judgment, with -which we shall be much occupied presently--‘Pleasure _alone_ is -good.’ It is judgments of this sort, which are made in such books on -Ethics as contain a list of ‘virtues’--in Aristotle’s ‘Ethics’ for -example. But it is judgments of precisely the same kind, which form -the substance of what is commonly supposed to be a study different -from Ethics, and one much less respectable--the study of Casuistry. -We may be told that Casuistry differs from Ethics, in that it is much -more detailed and particular, Ethics much more general. But it is -most important to notice that Casuistry does not deal with anything -that is absolutely particular--particular in the only sense in which -a perfectly precise line can be drawn between it and what is general. -It is not particular in the sense just noticed, the sense in which -this book is a particular book, and A’s friend’s advice particular -advice. Casuistry may indeed be _more_ particular and Ethics _more_ -general; but that means that they differ only in degree and not in -kind. And this is universally true of ‘particular’ and ‘general,’ when -used in this common, but inaccurate, sense. So far as Ethics allows -itself to give lists of virtues or even to name constituents of the -Ideal, it is indistinguishable from Casuistry. Both alike deal with -what is general, in the sense in which physics and chemistry deal with -what is general. Just as chemistry aims at discovering what are the -properties of oxygen, _wherever it occurs_, and not only of this or -that particular specimen of oxygen; so Casuistry aims at discovering -what actions are good, _whenever they occur_. In this respect Ethics -and Casuistry alike are to be classed with such sciences as physics, -chemistry and physiology, in their absolute distinction from those of -which history and geography are instances. And it is to be noted that, -owing to their detailed nature, casuistical investigations are actually -nearer to physics and to chemistry than are the investigations usually -assigned to Ethics. For just as physics cannot rest content with the -discovery that light is propagated by waves of ether, but must go on -to discover the particular nature of the ether-waves corresponding to -each several colour; so Casuistry, not content with the general law -that charity is a virtue, must attempt to discover the relative merits -of every different form of charity. Casuistry forms, therefore, part -of the ideal of ethical science: Ethics cannot be complete without it. -The defects of Casuistry are not defects of principle; no objection can -be taken to its aim and object. It has failed only because it is far -too difficult a subject to be treated adequately in our present state -of knowledge. The casuist has been unable to distinguish, in the cases -which he treats, those elements upon which their value depends. Hence -he often thinks two cases to be alike in respect of value, when in -reality they are alike only in some other respect. It is to mistakes of -this kind that the pernicious influence of such investigations has been -due. For Casuistry is the goal of ethical investigation. It cannot be -safely attempted at the beginning of our studies, but only at the end. - - -=5.= But our question ‘What is good?’ may have still another meaning. -We may, in the third place, mean to ask, not what thing or things are -good, but how ‘good’ is to be defined. This is an enquiry which belongs -only to Ethics, not to Casuistry; and this is the enquiry which will -occupy us first. - -It is an enquiry to which most special attention should be directed; -since this question, how ‘good’ is to be defined, is the most -fundamental question in all Ethics. That which is meant by ‘good’ -is, in fact, except its converse ‘bad,’ the _only_ simple object of -thought which is peculiar to Ethics. Its definition is, therefore, -the most essential point in the definition of Ethics; and moreover a -mistake with regard to it entails a far larger number of erroneous -ethical judgments than any other. Unless this first question be fully -understood, and its true answer clearly recognised, the rest of Ethics -is as good as useless from the point of view of systematic knowledge. -True ethical judgments, of the two kinds last dealt with, may indeed -be made by those who do not know the answer to this question as well -as by those who do; and it goes without saying that the two classes -of people may lead equally good lives. But it is extremely unlikely -that the _most general_ ethical judgments will be equally valid, in -the absence of a true answer to this question: I shall presently try -to shew that the gravest errors have been largely due to beliefs in a -false answer. And, in any case, it is impossible that, till the answer -to this question be known, any one should know _what is the evidence_ -for any ethical judgment whatsoever. But the main object of Ethics, -as a systematic science, is to give correct _reasons_ for thinking -that this or that is good; and, unless this question be answered, such -reasons cannot be given. Even, therefore, apart from the fact that a -false answer leads to false conclusions, the present enquiry is a most -necessary and important part of the science of Ethics. - - -=6.= What, then, is good? How is good to be defined? Now, it may be -thought that this is a verbal question. A definition does indeed often -mean the expressing of one word’s meaning in other words. But this -is not the sort of definition I am asking for. Such a definition can -never be of ultimate importance in any study except lexicography. If I -wanted that kind of definition I should have to consider in the first -place how people generally used the word ‘good’; but my business is not -with its proper usage, as established by custom. I should, indeed, be -foolish, if I tried to use it for something which it did not usually -denote: if, for instance, I were to announce that, whenever I used the -word ‘good,’ I must be understood to be thinking of that object which -is usually denoted by the word ‘table.’ I shall, therefore, use the -word in the sense in which I think it is ordinarily used; but at the -same time I am not anxious to discuss whether I am right in thinking -that it is so used. My business is solely with that object or idea, -which I hold, rightly or wrongly, that the word is generally used to -stand for. What I want to discover is the nature of that object or -idea, and about this I am extremely anxious to arrive at an agreement. - -But, if we understand the question in this sense, my answer to it -may seem a very disappointing one. If I am asked ‘What is good?’ my -answer is that good is good, and that is the end of the matter. Or if -I am asked ‘How is good to be defined?’ my answer is that it cannot -be defined, and that is all I have to say about it. But disappointing -as these answers may appear, they are of the very last importance. To -readers who are familiar with philosophic terminology, I can express -their importance by saying that they amount to this: That propositions -about the good are all of them synthetic and never analytic; and that -is plainly no trivial matter. And the same thing may be expressed more -popularly, by saying that, if I am right, then nobody can foist upon -us such an axiom as that ‘Pleasure is the only good’ or that ‘The good -is the desired’ on the pretence that this is ‘the very meaning of the -word.’ - - -=7.= Let us, then, consider this position. My point is that ‘good’ -is a simple notion, just as ‘yellow’ is a simple notion; that, just -as you cannot, by any manner of means, explain to any one who does -not already know it, what yellow is, so you cannot explain what good -is. Definitions of the kind that I was asking for, definitions which -describe the real nature of the object or notion denoted by a word, -and which do not merely tell us what the word is used to mean, are -only possible when the object or notion in question is something -complex. You can give a definition of a horse, because a horse has many -different properties and qualities, all of which you can enumerate. -But when you have enumerated them all, when you have reduced a horse -to his simplest terms, then you can no longer define those terms. They -are simply something which you think of or perceive, and to any one who -cannot think of or perceive them, you can never, by any definition, -make their nature known. It may perhaps be objected to this that we -are able to describe to others, objects which they have never seen or -thought of. We can, for instance, make a man understand what a chimaera -is, although he has never heard of one or seen one. You can tell him -that it is an animal with a lioness’s head and body, with a goat’s head -growing from the middle of its back, and with a snake in place of a -tail. But here the object which you are describing is a complex object; -it is entirely composed of parts, with which we are all perfectly -familiar--a snake, a goat, a lioness; and we know, too, the manner -in which those parts are to be put together, because we know what is -meant by the middle of a lioness’s back, and where her tail is wont to -grow. And so it is with all objects, not previously known, which we are -able to define: they are all complex; all composed of parts, which may -themselves, in the first instance, be capable of similar definition, -but which must in the end be reducible to simplest parts, which can no -longer be defined. But yellow and good, we say, are not complex: they -are notions of that simple kind, out of which definitions are composed -and with which the power of further defining ceases. - - -=8.= When we say, as Webster says, ‘The definition of horse is “A -hoofed quadruped of the genus Equus,”’ we may, in fact, mean three -different things. (1) We may mean merely: ‘When I say “horse,” you are -to understand that I am talking about a hoofed quadruped of the genus -Equus.’ This might be called the arbitrary verbal definition: and I -do not mean that good is indefinable in that sense. (2) We may mean, -as Webster ought to mean: ‘When most English people say “horse,” they -mean a hoofed quadruped of the genus Equus.’ This may be called the -verbal definition proper, and I do not say that good is indefinable -in this sense either; for it is certainly possible to discover how -people use a word: otherwise, we could never have known that ‘good’ may -be translated by ‘gut’ in German and by ‘bon’ in French. But (3) we -may, when we define horse, mean something much more important. We may -mean that a certain object, which we all of us know, is composed in a -certain manner: that it has four legs, a head, a heart, a liver, etc., -etc., all of them arranged in definite relations to one another. It is -in this sense that I deny good to be definable. I say that it is not -composed of any parts, which we can substitute for it in our minds when -we are thinking of it. We might think just as clearly and correctly -about a horse, if we thought of all its parts and their arrangement -instead of thinking of the whole: we could, I say, think how a horse -differed from a donkey just as well, just as truly, in this way, as now -we do, only not so easily; but there is nothing whatsoever which we -could so substitute for good; and that is what I mean, when I say that -good is indefinable. - - -=9.= But I am afraid I have still not removed the chief difficulty -which may prevent acceptance of the proposition that good is -indefinable. I do not mean to say that _the_ good, that which is good, -is thus indefinable; if I did think so, I should not be writing -on Ethics, for my main object is to help towards discovering that -definition. It is just because I think there will be less risk of error -in our search for a definition of ‘the good,’ that I am now insisting -that _good_ is indefinable. I must try to explain the difference -between these two. I suppose it may be granted that ‘good’ is an -adjective. Well ‘the good,’ ‘that which is good,’ must therefore be the -substantive to which the adjective ‘good’ will apply: it must be the -whole of that to which the adjective will apply, and the adjective must -_always_ truly apply to it. But if it is that to which the adjective -will apply, it must be something different from that adjective itself; -and the whole of that something different, whatever it is, will be -our definition of _the_ good. Now it may be that this something will -have other adjectives, beside ‘good,’ that will apply to it. It may be -full of pleasure, for example; it may be intelligent: and if these two -adjectives are really part of its definition, then it will certainly be -true, that pleasure and intelligence are good. And many people appear -to think that, if we say ‘Pleasure and intelligence are good,’ or if we -say ‘Only pleasure and intelligence are good,’ we are defining ‘good.’ -Well, I cannot deny that propositions of this nature may sometimes be -called definitions; I do not know well enough how the word is generally -used to decide upon this point. I only wish it to be understood that -that is not what I mean when I say there is no possible definition of -good, and that I shall not mean this if I use the word again. I do most -fully believe that some true proposition of the form ‘Intelligence is -good and intelligence alone is good’ can be found; if none could be -found, our definition of _the_ good would be impossible. As it is, -I believe _the_ good to be definable; and yet I still say that good -itself is indefinable. - - -=10.= ‘Good,’ then, if we mean by it that quality which we assert to -belong to a thing, when we say that the thing is good, is incapable -of any definition, in the most important sense of that word. The most -important sense of ‘definition’ is that in which a definition states -what are the parts which invariably compose a certain whole; and in -this sense ‘good’ has no definition because it is simple and has no -parts. It is one of those innumerable objects of thought which are -themselves incapable of definition, because they are the ultimate -terms by reference to which whatever _is_ capable of definition must -be defined. That there must be an indefinite number of such terms is -obvious, on reflection; since we cannot define anything except by -an analysis, which, when carried as far as it will go, refers us to -something, which is simply different from anything else, and which by -that ultimate difference explains the peculiarity of the whole which we -are defining: for every whole contains some parts which are common to -other wholes also. There is, therefore, no intrinsic difficulty in the -contention that ‘good’ denotes a simple and indefinable quality. There -are many other instances of such qualities. - -Consider yellow, for example. We may try to define it, by describing -its physical equivalent; we may state what kind of light-vibrations -must stimulate the normal eye, in order that we may perceive it. But a -moment’s reflection is sufficient to shew that those light-vibrations -are not themselves what we mean by yellow. _They_ are not what we -perceive. Indeed we should never have been able to discover their -existence, unless we had first been struck by the patent difference of -quality between the different colours. The most we can be entitled to -say of those vibrations is that they are what corresponds in space to -the yellow which we actually perceive. - -Yet a mistake of this simple kind has commonly been made about ‘good.’ -It may be true that all things which are good are _also_ something -else, just as it is true that all things which are yellow produce a -certain kind of vibration in the light. And it is a fact, that Ethics -aims at discovering what are those other properties belonging to all -things which are good. But far too many philosophers have thought that -when they named those other properties they were actually defining -good; that these properties, in fact, were simply not ‘other,’ but -absolutely and entirely the same with goodness. This view I propose -to call the ‘naturalistic fallacy’ and of it I shall now endeavour to -dispose. - - -=11.= Let us consider what it is such philosophers say. And first it is -to be noticed that they do not agree among themselves. They not only -say that they are right as to what good is, but they endeavour to prove -that other people who say that it is something else, are wrong. One, -for instance, will affirm that good is pleasure, another, perhaps, that -good is that which is desired; and each of these will argue eagerly -to prove that the other is wrong. But how is that possible? One of -them says that good is nothing but the object of desire, and at the -same time tries to prove that it is not pleasure. But from his first -assertion, that good just means the object of desire, one of two things -must follow as regards his proof: - -(1) He may be trying to prove that the object of desire is not -pleasure. But, if this be all, where is his Ethics? The position he is -maintaining is merely a psychological one. Desire is something which -occurs in our minds, and pleasure is something else which so occurs; -and our would-be ethical philosopher is merely holding that the latter -is not the object of the former. But what has that to do with the -question in dispute? His opponent held the ethical proposition that -pleasure was the good, and although he should prove a million times -over the psychological proposition that pleasure is not the object of -desire, he is no nearer proving his opponent to be wrong. The position -is like this. One man says a triangle is a circle: another replies -‘A triangle is a straight line, and I will prove to you that I am -right: _for_’ (this is the only argument) ‘a straight line is not a -circle.’ ‘That is quite true,’ the other may reply; ‘but nevertheless -a triangle is a circle, and you have said nothing whatever to prove -the contrary. What is proved is that one of us is wrong, for we agree -that a triangle cannot be both a straight line and a circle: but which -is wrong, there can be no earthly means of proving, since you define -triangle as straight line and I define it as circle.’--Well, that is -one alternative which any naturalistic Ethics has to face; if good is -_defined_ as something else, it is then impossible either to prove that -any other definition is wrong or even to deny such definition. - -(2) The other alternative will scarcely be more welcome. It is that the -discussion is after all a verbal one. When A says ‘Good means pleasant’ -and B says ‘Good means desired,’ they may merely wish to assert that -most people have used the word for what is pleasant and for what is -desired respectively. And this is quite an interesting subject for -discussion: only it is not a whit more an ethical discussion than the -last was. Nor do I think that any exponent of naturalistic Ethics -would be willing to allow that this was all he meant. They are all so -anxious to persuade us that what they call the good is what we really -ought to do. ‘Do, pray, act so, because the word “good” is generally -used to denote actions of this nature’: such, on this view, would be -the substance of their teaching. And in so far as they tell us how we -ought to act, their teaching is truly ethical, as they mean it to be. -But how perfectly absurd is the reason they would give for it! ‘You are -to do this, because most people use a certain word to denote conduct -such as this.’ ‘You are to say the thing which is not, because most -people call it lying.’ That is an argument just as good!--My dear sirs, -what we want to know from you as ethical teachers, is not how people -use a word; it is not even, what kind of actions they approve, which -the use of this word ‘good’ may certainly imply: what we want to know -is simply what _is_ good. We may indeed agree that what most people -do think good, is actually so; we shall at all events be glad to know -their opinions: but when we say their opinions about what _is_ good, we -do mean what we say; we do not care whether they call that thing which -they mean ‘horse’ or ‘table’ or ‘chair,’ ‘gut’ or ‘bon’ or ‘ἀγαθός’; we -want to know what it is that they so call. When they say ‘Pleasure is -good,’ we cannot believe that they merely mean ‘Pleasure is pleasure’ -and nothing more than that. - - -=12.= Suppose a man says ‘I am pleased’; and suppose that is not a lie -or a mistake but the truth. Well, if it is true, what does that mean? -It means that his mind, a certain definite mind, distinguished by -certain definite marks from all others, has at this moment a certain -definite feeling called pleasure. ‘Pleased’ _means_ nothing but having -pleasure, and though we may be more pleased or less pleased, and even, -we may admit for the present, have one or another kind of pleasure; -yet in so far as it is pleasure we have, whether there be more or less -of it, and whether it be of one kind or another, what we have is one -definite thing, absolutely indefinable, some one thing that is the -same in all the various degrees and in all the various kinds of it -that there may be. We may be able to say how it is related to other -things: that, for example, it is in the mind, that it causes desire, -that we are conscious of it, etc., etc. We can, I say, describe its -relations to other things, but define it we can _not_. And if anybody -tried to define pleasure for us as being any other natural object; if -anybody were to say, for instance, that pleasure _means_ the sensation -of red, and were to proceed to deduce from that that pleasure is a -colour, we should be entitled to laugh at him and to distrust his -future statements about pleasure. Well, that would be the same fallacy -which I have called the naturalistic fallacy. That ‘pleased’ does not -mean ‘having the sensation of red,’ or anything else whatever, does not -prevent us from understanding what it does mean. It is enough for us to -know that ‘pleased’ does mean ‘having the sensation of pleasure,’ and -though pleasure is absolutely indefinable, though pleasure is pleasure -and nothing else whatever, yet we feel no difficulty in saying that we -are pleased. The reason is, of course, that when I say ‘I am pleased,’ -I do _not_ mean that ‘I’ am the same thing as ‘having pleasure.’ And -similarly no difficulty need be found in my saying that ‘pleasure -is good’ and yet not meaning that ‘pleasure’ is the same thing as -‘good,’ that pleasure _means_ good, and that good _means_ pleasure. -If I were to imagine that when I said ‘I am pleased,’ I meant that -I was exactly the same thing as ‘pleased,’ I should not indeed call -that a naturalistic fallacy, although it would be the same fallacy -as I have called naturalistic with reference to Ethics. The reason -of this is obvious enough. When a man confuses two natural objects -with one another, defining the one, by the other, if for instance, -he confuses himself, who is one natural object, with ‘pleased’ or -with ‘pleasure’ which are others, then there is no reason to call the -fallacy naturalistic. But if he confuses ‘good,’ which is not in the -same sense a natural object, with any natural object whatever, then -there is a reason for calling that a naturalistic fallacy; its being -made with regard to ‘good’ marks it as something quite specific, and -this specific mistake deserves a name because it is so common. As for -the reasons why good is not to be considered a natural object, they may -be reserved for discussion in another place. But, for the present, it -is sufficient to notice this: Even if it were a natural object, that -would not alter the nature of the fallacy nor diminish its importance -one whit. All that I have said about it would remain quite equally -true: only the name which I have called it would not be so appropriate -as I think it is. And I do not care about the name: what I do care -about is the fallacy. It does not matter what we call it, provided we -recognise it when we meet with it. It is to be met with in almost every -book on Ethics; and yet it is not recognised: and that is why it is -necessary to multiply illustrations of it, and convenient to give it a -name. It is a very simple fallacy indeed. When we say that an orange is -yellow, we do not think our statement binds us to hold that ‘orange’ -means nothing else than ‘yellow,’ or that nothing can be yellow but an -orange. Supposing the orange is also sweet! Does that bind us to say -that ‘sweet’ is exactly the same thing as ‘yellow,’ that ‘sweet’ must -be defined as ‘yellow’? And supposing it be recognised that ‘yellow’ -just means ‘yellow’ and nothing else whatever, does that make it any -more difficult to hold that oranges are yellow? Most certainly it does -not: on the contrary, it would be absolutely meaningless to say that -oranges were yellow, unless yellow did in the end mean just ‘yellow’ -and nothing else whatever--unless it was absolutely indefinable. We -should not get any very clear notion about things, which are yellow--we -should not get very far with our science, if we were bound to hold that -everything which was yellow, _meant_ exactly the same thing as yellow. -We should find we had to hold that an orange was exactly the same thing -as a stool, a piece of paper, a lemon, anything you like. We could -prove any number of absurdities; but should we be the nearer to the -truth? Why, then, should it be different with ‘good’? Why, if good is -good and indefinable, should I be held to deny that pleasure is good? -Is there any difficulty in holding both to be true at once? On the -contrary, there is no meaning in saying that pleasure is good, unless -good is something different from pleasure. It is absolutely useless, -so far as Ethics is concerned, to prove, as Mr Spencer tries to do, -that increase of pleasure coincides with increase of life, unless good -_means_ something different from either life or pleasure. He might just -as well try to prove that an orange is yellow by shewing that it always -is wrapped up in paper. - - -=13.= In fact, if it is not the case that ‘good’ denotes something -simple and indefinable, only two alternatives are possible: either it -is a complex, a given whole, about the correct analysis of which there -may be disagreement; or else it means nothing at all, and there is no -such subject as Ethics. In general, however, ethical philosophers have -attempted to define good, without recognising what such an attempt -must mean. They actually use arguments which involve one or both of -the absurdities considered in § 11. We are, therefore, justified in -concluding that the attempt to define good is chiefly due to want of -clearness as to the possible nature of definition. There are, in fact, -only two serious alternatives to be considered, in order to establish -the conclusion that ‘good’ does denote a simple and indefinable notion. -It might possibly denote a complex, as ‘horse’ does; or it might have -no meaning at all. Neither of these possibilities has, however, been -clearly conceived and seriously maintained, as such, by those who -presume to define good; and both may be dismissed by a simple appeal to -facts. - -(1) The hypothesis that disagreement about the meaning of good is -disagreement with regard to the correct analysis of a given whole, -may be most plainly seen to be incorrect by consideration of the fact -that, whatever definition be offered, it may be always asked, with -significance, of the complex so defined, whether it is itself good. To -take, for instance, one of the more plausible, because one of the more -complicated, of such proposed definitions, it may easily be thought, -at first sight, that to be good may mean to be that which we desire -to desire. Thus if we apply this definition to a particular instance -and say ‘When we think that A is good, we are thinking that A is one -of the things which we desire to desire,’ our proposition may seem -quite plausible. But, if we carry the investigation further, and ask -ourselves ‘Is it good to desire to desire A?’ it is apparent, on a -little reflection, that this question is itself as intelligible, as the -original question ‘Is A good?’--that we are, in fact, now asking for -exactly the same information about the desire to desire A, for which -we formerly asked with regard to A itself. But it is also apparent -that the meaning of this second question cannot be correctly analysed -into ‘Is the desire to desire A one of the things which we desire to -desire?’: we have not before our minds anything so complicated as the -question ‘Do we desire to desire to desire to desire A?’ Moreover any -one can easily convince himself by inspection that the predicate of -this proposition--‘good’--is positively different from the notion of -‘desiring to desire’ which enters into its subject: ‘That we should -desire to desire A is good’ is _not_ merely equivalent to ‘That A -should be good is good.’ It may indeed be true that what we desire to -desire is always also good; perhaps, even the converse may be true: but -it is very doubtful whether this is the case, and the mere fact that we -understand very well what is meant by doubting it, shews clearly that -we have two different notions before our minds. - -(2) And the same consideration is sufficient to dismiss the hypothesis -that ‘good’ has no meaning whatsoever. It is very natural to make the -mistake of supposing that what is universally true is of such a nature -that its negation would be self-contradictory: the importance which has -been assigned to analytic propositions in the history of philosophy -shews how easy such a mistake is. And thus it is very easy to conclude -that what seems to be a universal ethical principle is in fact an -identical proposition; that, if, for example, whatever is called ‘good’ -seems to be pleasant, the proposition ‘Pleasure is the good’ does not -assert a connection between two different notions, but involves only -one, that of pleasure, which is easily recognised as a distinct entity. -But whoever will attentively consider with himself what is actually -before his mind when he asks the question ‘Is pleasure (or whatever -it may be) after all good?’ can easily satisfy himself that he is not -merely wondering whether pleasure is pleasant. And if he will try -this experiment with each suggested definition in succession, he may -become expert enough to recognise that in every case he has before his -mind a unique object, with regard to the connection of which with any -other object, a distinct question may be asked. Every one does in -fact understand the question ‘Is this good?’ When he thinks of it, his -state of mind is different from what it would be, were he asked ‘Is -this pleasant, or desired, or approved?’ It has a distinct meaning for -him, even though he may not recognise in what respect it is distinct. -Whenever he thinks of ‘intrinsic value,’ or ‘intrinsic worth,’ or -says that a thing ‘ought to exist,’ he has before his mind the unique -object--the unique property of things--which I mean by ‘good.’ -Everybody is constantly aware of this notion, although he may never -become aware at all that it is different from other notions of which -he is also aware. But, for correct ethical reasoning, it is extremely -important that he should become aware of this fact; and, as soon as the -nature of the problem is clearly understood, there should be little -difficulty in advancing so far in analysis. - - -=14.= ‘Good,’ then, is indefinable; and yet, so far as I know, there -is only one ethical writer, Prof. Henry Sidgwick, who has clearly -recognised and stated this fact. We shall see, indeed, how far many of -the most reputed ethical systems fall short of drawing the conclusions -which follow from such a recognition. At present I will only quote one -instance, which will serve to illustrate the meaning and importance of -this principle that ‘good’ is indefinable, or, as Prof. Sidgwick says, -an ‘unanalysable notion.’ It is an instance to which Prof. Sidgwick -himself refers in a note on the passage, in which he argues that -‘ought’ is unanalysable[2]. - - [2] _Methods of Ethics_, Bk. I, Chap. iii, § 1 (6th edition). - -‘Bentham,’ says Sidgwick, ‘explains that his fundamental principle -“states the greatest happiness of all those whose interest is in -question as being the right and proper end of human action”’; and yet -‘his language in other passages of the same chapter would seem to -imply’ that he _means_ by the word “right” “conducive to the general -happiness.” Prof. Sidgwick sees that, if you take these two statements -together, you get the absurd result that ‘greatest happiness is the -end of human action, which is conducive to the general happiness’; and -so absurd does it seem to him to call this result, as Bentham calls -it, ‘the fundamental principle of a moral system,’ that he suggests -that Bentham cannot have meant it. Yet Prof. Sidgwick himself states -elsewhere[3] that Psychological Hedonism is ‘not seldom confounded with -Egoistic Hedonism’; and that confusion, as we shall see, rests chiefly -on that same fallacy, the naturalistic fallacy, which is implied in -Bentham’s statements. Prof. Sidgwick admits therefore that this fallacy -is sometimes committed, absurd as it is; and I am inclined to think -that Bentham may really have been one of those who committed it. Mill, -as we shall see, certainly did commit it. In any case, whether Bentham -committed it or not, his doctrine, as above quoted, will serve as a -very good illustration of this fallacy, and of the importance of the -contrary proposition that good is indefinable. - - [3] _Methods of Ethics_, Bk. I, Chap. iv, § 1. - -Let us consider this doctrine. Bentham seems to imply, so Prof. -Sidgwick says, that the word ‘right’ _means_ ‘conducive to general -happiness.’ Now this, by itself, need not necessarily involve -the naturalistic fallacy. For the word ‘right’ is very commonly -appropriated to actions which lead to the attainment of what -is good; which are regarded as _means_ to the ideal and not as -ends-in-themselves. This use of ‘right,’ as denoting what is good as -a means, whether or not it be also good as an end, is indeed the use -to which I shall confine the word. Had Bentham been using ‘right’ in -this sense, it might be perfectly consistent for him to _define_ right -as ‘conducive to the general happiness,’ _provided only_ (and notice -this proviso) he had already proved, or laid down as an axiom, that -general happiness was _the_ good, or (what is equivalent to this) -that general happiness alone was good. For in that case he would have -already defined _the_ good as general happiness (a position perfectly -consistent, as we have seen, with the contention that ‘good’ is -indefinable), and, since right was to be defined as ‘conducive to _the_ -good,’ it would actually _mean_ ‘conducive to general happiness.’ -But this method of escape from the charge of having committed the -naturalistic fallacy has been closed by Bentham himself. For his -fundamental principle is, we see, that the greatest happiness of all -concerned is the _right_ and proper _end_ of human action. He applies -the word ‘right,’ therefore, to the end, as such, not only to the means -which are conducive to it; and, that being so, right can no longer be -defined as ‘conducive to the general happiness,’ without involving the -fallacy in question. For now it is obvious that the definition of right -as conducive to general happiness can be used by him in support of the -fundamental principle that general happiness is the right end; instead -of being itself derived from that principle. If right, by definition, -means conducive to general happiness, then it is obvious that general -happiness is the right end. It is not necessary now first to prove or -assert that general happiness is the right end, before right is defined -as conducive to general happiness--a perfectly valid procedure; but on -the contrary the definition of right as conducive to general happiness -proves general happiness to be the right end--a perfectly invalid -procedure, since in this case the statement that ‘general happiness is -the right end of human action’ is not an ethical principle at all, but -either, as we have seen, a proposition about the meaning of words, or -else a proposition about the _nature_ of general happiness, not about -its rightness or goodness. - -Now, I do not wish the importance I assign to this fallacy to be -misunderstood. The discovery of it does not at all refute Bentham’s -contention that greatest happiness is the proper end of human action, -if that be understood as an ethical proposition, as he undoubtedly -intended it. That principle may be true all the same; we shall consider -whether it is so in succeeding chapters. Bentham might have maintained -it, as Professor Sidgwick does, even if the fallacy had been pointed -out to him. What I am maintaining is that the _reasons_ which he -actually gives for his ethical proposition are fallacious ones so -far as they consist in a definition of right. What I suggest is that -he did not perceive them to be fallacious; that, if he had done so, -he would have been led to seek for other reasons in support of his -Utilitarianism; and that, had he sought for other reasons, he _might_ -have found none which he thought to be sufficient. In that case he -would have changed his whole system--a most important consequence. It -is undoubtedly also possible that he would have thought other reasons -to be sufficient, and in that case his ethical system, in its main -results, would still have stood. But, even in this latter case, his -use of the fallacy would be a serious objection to him as an ethical -philosopher. For it is the business of Ethics, I must insist, not only -to obtain true results, but also to find valid reasons for them. The -direct object of Ethics is knowledge and not practice; and any one who -uses the naturalistic fallacy has certainly not fulfilled this first -object, however correct his practical principles may be. - -My objections to Naturalism are then, in the first place, that it -offers no reason at all, far less any valid reason, for any ethical -principle whatever; and in this it already fails to satisfy the -requirements of Ethics, as a scientific study. But in the second place -I contend that, though it gives a reason for no ethical principle, it -is a _cause_ of the acceptance of false principles--it deludes the mind -into accepting ethical principles, which are false; and in this it is -contrary to every aim of Ethics. It is easy to see that if we start -with a definition of right conduct as conduct conducive to general -happiness; then, knowing that right conduct is universally conduct -conducive to the good, we very easily arrive at the result that the -good is general happiness. If, on the other hand, we once recognise -that we must start our Ethics without a definition, we shall be much -more apt to look about us, before we adopt any ethical principle -whatever; and the more we look about us, the less likely are we to -adopt a false one. It may be replied to this: Yes, but we shall look -about us just as much, before we settle on our definition, and are -therefore just as likely to be right. But I will try to shew that this -is not the case. If we start with the conviction that a definition of -good can be found, we start with the conviction that good _can mean_ -nothing else than some one property of things; and our only business -will then be to discover what that property is. But if we recognise -that, so far as the meaning of good goes, anything whatever may be -good, we start with a much more open mind. Moreover, apart from the -fact that, when we think we have a definition, we cannot logically -defend our ethical principles in any way whatever, we shall also be -much less apt to defend them well, even if illogically. For we shall -start with the conviction that good must mean so and so, and shall -therefore be inclined either to misunderstand our opponent’s arguments -or to cut them short with the reply, ‘This is not an open question: the -very meaning of the word decides it; no one can think otherwise except -through confusion.’ - - -=15.= Our first conclusion as to the subject-matter of Ethics is, then, -that there is a simple, indefinable, unanalysable object of thought by -reference to which it must be defined. By what name we call this unique -object is a matter of indifference, so long as we clearly recognise -what it is and that it does differ from other objects. The words which -are commonly taken as the signs of ethical judgments all do refer to -it; and they are expressions of ethical judgments solely because they -do so refer. But they may refer to it in two different ways, which -it is very important to distinguish, if we are to have a complete -definition of the range of ethical judgments. Before I proceeded to -argue that there was such an indefinable notion involved in ethical -notions, I stated (§ 4) that it was necessary for Ethics to enumerate -all true universal judgments, asserting that such and such a thing was -good, whenever it occurred. But, although all such judgments do refer -to that unique notion which I have called ‘good,’ they do not all refer -to it in the same way. They may either assert that this unique property -does always attach to the thing in question, or else they may assert -only that the thing in question is _a cause or necessary condition_ -for the existence of other things to which this unique property does -attach. The nature of these two species of universal ethical judgments -is extremely different; and a great part of the difficulties, which -are met with in ordinary ethical speculation, are due to the failure -to distinguish them clearly. Their difference has, indeed, received -expression in ordinary language by the contrast between the terms ‘good -as means’ and ‘good in itself,’ ‘value as a means’ and ‘intrinsic -value.’ But these terms are apt to be applied correctly only in the -more obvious instances; and this seems to be due to the fact that the -distinction between the conceptions which they denote has not been made -a separate object of investigation. This distinction may be briefly -pointed out as follows. - - -=16.= Whenever we judge that a thing is ‘good as a means,’ we are -making a judgment with regard to its causal relations: we judge -_both_ that it will have a particular kind of effect, _and_ that that -effect will be good in itself. But to find causal judgments that -are universally true is notoriously a matter of extreme difficulty. -The late date at which most of the physical sciences became exact, -and the comparative fewness of the laws which they have succeeded -in establishing even now, are sufficient proofs of this difficulty. -With regard, then, to what are the most frequent objects of ethical -judgments, namely actions, it is obvious that we cannot be satisfied -that any of our universal causal judgments are true, even in the -sense in which scientific laws are so. We cannot even discover -hypothetical laws of the form ‘Exactly this action will always, under -these conditions, produce exactly that effect.’ But for a correct -ethical judgment with regard to the effects of certain actions we -require more than this in two respects. (1) We require to know -that a given action will produce a certain effect, _under whatever -circumstances it occurs_. But this is certainly impossible. It is -certain that in different circumstances the same action may produce -effects which are utterly different in all respects upon which the -value of the effects depends. Hence we can never be entitled to more -than a _generalisation_--to a proposition of the form ‘This result -_generally_ follows this kind of action’; and even this generalisation -will only be true, if the circumstances under which the action occurs -are generally the same. This is in fact the case, to a great extent, -within any one particular age and state of society. But, when we take -other ages into account, in many most important cases the normal -circumstances of a given kind of action will be so different, that the -generalisation which is true for one will not be true for another. -With regard then to ethical judgments which assert that a certain -kind of action is good as a means to a certain kind of effect, none -will be _universally_ true; and many, though _generally_ true at one -period, will be generally false at others. But (2) we require to know -not only that _one_ good effect will be produced, but that, among all -subsequent events affected by the action in question, the balance -of good will be greater than if any other possible action had been -performed. In other words, to judge that an action is generally a means -to good is to judge not only that it generally does _some_ good, but -that it generally does the greatest good of which the circumstances -admit. In this respect ethical judgments about the effects of action -involve a difficulty and a complication far greater than that involved -in the establishment of scientific laws. For the latter we need only -consider a single effect; for the former it is essential to consider -not only this, but the effects of that effect, and so on as far as our -view into the future can reach. It is, indeed, obvious that our view -can never reach far enough for us to be certain that any action will -produce the best possible effects. We must be content, if the greatest -possible balance of good seems to be produced within a limited period. -But it is important to notice that the whole series of effects within -a period of considerable length is actually taken account of in our -common judgments that an action is good as a means; and that hence -this additional complication, which makes ethical generalisations so -far more difficult to establish than scientific laws, is one which is -involved in actual ethical discussions, and is of practical importance. -The commonest rules of conduct involve such considerations as the -balancing of future bad health against immediate gains; and even if we -can never settle with any certainty how we shall secure the greatest -possible total of good, we try at least to assure ourselves that -probable future evils will not be greater than the immediate good. - - -=17.= There are, then, judgments which state that certain kinds of -things have good effects; and such judgments, for the reasons just -given, have the important characteristics (1) that they are unlikely to -be true, if they state that the kind of thing in question _always_ has -good effects, and (2) that, even if they only state that it _generally_ -has good effects, many of them will only be true of certain periods -in the world’s history. On the other hand there are judgments which -state that certain kinds of things are themselves good; and these -differ from the last in that, if true at all, they are all of them -universally true. It is, therefore, extremely important to distinguish -these two kinds of possible judgments. Both may be expressed in the -same language: in both cases we commonly say ‘Such and such a thing is -good.’ But in the one case ‘good’ will mean ‘good as means,’ _i.e._ -merely that the thing is a means to good--will have good effects: -in the other case it will mean ‘good as end’--we shall be judging -that the thing itself has the property which, in the first case, we -asserted only to belong to its effects. It is plain that these are very -different assertions to make about a thing; it is plain that either or -both of them may be made, both truly and falsely, about all manner of -things; and it is certain that unless we are clear as to which of the -two we mean to assert, we shall have a very poor chance of deciding -rightly whether our assertion is true or false. It is precisely this -clearness as to the meaning of the question asked which has hitherto -been almost entirely lacking in ethical speculation. Ethics has always -been predominantly concerned with the investigation of a limited -class of actions. With regard to these we may ask _both_ how far they -are good in themselves _and_ how far they have a general tendency to -produce good results. And the arguments brought forward in ethical -discussion have always been of both classes--both such as would prove -the conduct in question to be good in itself and such as would prove -it to be good as a means. But that these are the only questions which -any ethical discussion can have to settle, and that to settle the one -is _not_ the same thing as to settle the other--these two fundamental -facts have in general escaped the notice of ethical philosophers. -Ethical questions are commonly asked in an ambiguous form. It is asked -‘What is a man’s duty under these circumstances?’ or ‘Is it right to -act in this way?’ or ‘What ought we to aim at securing?’ But all these -questions are capable of further analysis; a correct answer to any -of them involves both judgments of what is good in itself and causal -judgments. This is implied even by those who maintain that we have a -direct and immediate judgment of absolute rights and duties. Such a -judgment can only mean that the course of action in question is _the_ -best thing to do; that, by acting so, every good that _can_ be secured -will have been secured. Now we are not concerned with the question -whether such a judgment will ever be true. The question is: What -does it imply, if it is true? And the only possible answer is that, -whether true or false, it implies both a proposition as to the degree -of goodness of the action in question, as compared with other things, -and a number of causal propositions. For it cannot be denied that the -action will have consequences: and to deny that the consequences matter -is to make a judgment of their intrinsic value, as compared with the -action itself. In asserting that the action is _the_ best thing to do, -we assert that it together with its consequences presents a greater sum -of intrinsic value than any possible alternative. And this condition -may be realised by any of the three cases:--(_a_) If the action itself -has greater intrinsic value than any alternative, whereas both its -consequences and those of the alternatives are absolutely devoid -either of intrinsic merit or intrinsic demerit; or (_b_) if, though -its consequences are intrinsically bad, the balance of intrinsic value -is greater than would be produced by any alternative; or (_c_) if, its -consequences being intrinsically good, the degree of value belonging -to them and it conjointly is greater than that of any alternative -series. In short, to assert that a certain line of conduct is, at a -given time, absolutely right or obligatory, is obviously to assert -that more good or less evil will exist in the world, if it be adopted, -than if anything else be done instead. But this implies a judgment as -to the value both of its own consequences and of those of any possible -alternative. And that an action will have such and such consequences -involves a number of causal judgments. - -Similarly, in answering the question ‘What ought we to aim at -securing?’ causal judgments are again involved, but in a somewhat -different way. We are liable to forget, because it is so obvious, -that this question can never be answered correctly except by naming -something which _can_ be secured. Not everything can be secured; and, -even if we judge that nothing which cannot be obtained would be of -equal value with that which can, the possibility of the latter, as -well as its value, is essential to its being a proper end of action. -Accordingly neither our judgments as to what actions we ought to -perform, nor even our judgments as to the ends which they ought to -produce, are pure judgments of intrinsic value. With regard to -the former, an action which is absolutely obligatory _may_ have no -intrinsic value whatsoever; that it is perfectly virtuous may mean -merely that it causes the best possible effects. And with regard to the -latter, these best possible results which justify our action can, in -any case, have only so much of intrinsic value as the laws of nature -allow us to secure; and they in their turn _may_ have no intrinsic -value whatsoever, but may merely be a means to the attainment (in a -still further future) of something that has such value. Whenever, -therefore, we ask ‘What ought we to do?’ or ‘What ought we to try to -get?’ we are asking questions which involve a correct answer to two -others, completely different in kind from one another. We must know -_both_ what degree of intrinsic value different things have, _and_ -how these different things may be obtained. But the vast majority of -questions which have actually been discussed in Ethics--_all_ practical -questions, indeed--involve this double knowledge; and they have been -discussed without any clear separation of the two distinct questions -involved. A great part of the vast disagreements prevalent in Ethics is -to be attributed to this failure in analysis. By the use of conceptions -which involve both that of intrinsic value and that of causal relation, -as if they involved intrinsic value only, two different errors have -been rendered almost universal. Either it is assumed that nothing has -intrinsic value which is not possible, or else it is assumed that what -is necessary must have intrinsic value. Hence the primary and peculiar -business of Ethics, the determination what things have intrinsic -value and in what degrees, has received no adequate treatment at all. -And on the other hand a _thorough_ discussion of means has been also -largely neglected, owing to an obscure perception of the truth that -it is perfectly irrelevant to the question of intrinsic values. But -however this may be, and however strongly any particular reader may be -convinced that some one of the mutually contradictory systems which -hold the field has given a correct answer either to the question what -has intrinsic value, or to the question what we ought to do, or to -both, it must at least be admitted that the questions what is best -in itself and what will bring about the best possible, are utterly -distinct; that both belong to the actual subject-matter of Ethics; and -that the more clearly distinct questions are distinguished, the better -is our chance of answering both correctly. - - -=18.= There remains one point which must not be omitted in a complete -description of the kind of questions which Ethics has to answer. The -main division of those questions is, as I have said, into two; the -question what things are good in themselves, and the question to what -other things these are related as effects. The first of these, which is -the primary ethical question and is presupposed by the other, includes -a correct comparison of the various things which have intrinsic value -(if there are many such) in respect of the degree of value which they -have; and such comparison involves a difficulty of principle which has -greatly aided the confusion of intrinsic value with mere ‘goodness -as a means.’ It has been pointed out that one difference between a -judgment which asserts that a thing is good in itself, and a judgment -which asserts that it is a means to good, consists in the fact that -the first, if true of one instance of the thing in question, is -necessarily true of all; whereas a thing which has good effects under -some circumstances may have bad ones under others. Now it is certainly -true that all judgments of intrinsic value are in this sense universal; -but the principle which I have now to enunciate may easily make it -appear as if they were not so but resembled the judgment of means in -being merely general. There is, as will presently be maintained, a -vast number of different things, each of which has intrinsic value; -there are also very many which are positively bad; and there is a still -larger class of things, which appear to be indifferent. But a thing -belonging to any of these three classes may occur as part of a whole, -which includes among its other parts other things belonging both to -the same and to the other two classes; and these wholes, as such, may -also have intrinsic value. The paradox, to which it is necessary to -call attention, is that _the value of such a whole bears no regular -proportion to the sum of the values of its parts_. It is certain that -a good thing may exist in such a relation to another good thing that -the value of the whole thus formed is immensely greater than the sum -of the values of the two good things. It is certain that a whole formed -of a good thing and an indifferent thing may have immensely greater -value than that good thing itself possesses. It is certain that two -bad things or a bad thing and an indifferent thing may form a whole -much worse than the sum of badness of its parts. And it seems as if -indifferent things may also be the sole constituents of a whole which -has great value, either positive or negative. Whether the addition of -a bad thing to a good whole may increase the positive value of the -whole, or the addition of a bad thing to a bad may produce a whole -having positive value, may seem more doubtful; but it is, at least, -possible, and this possibility must be taken into account in our -ethical investigations. However we may decide particular questions, the -principle is clear. _The value of a whole must not be assumed to be the -same as the sum of the values of its parts._ - -A single instance will suffice to illustrate the kind of relation in -question. It seems to be true that to be conscious of a beautiful -object is a thing of great intrinsic value; whereas the same object, if -no one be conscious of it, has certainly comparatively little value, -and is commonly held to have none at all. But the consciousness of a -beautiful object is certainly a whole of some sort in which we can -distinguish as parts the object on the one hand and the being conscious -on the other. Now this latter factor occurs as part of a different -whole, whenever we are conscious of anything; and it would seem that -some of these wholes have at all events very little value, and may -even be indifferent or positively bad. Yet we cannot always attribute -the slightness of their value to any positive demerit in the object -which differentiates them from the consciousness of beauty; the object -itself may approach as near as possible to absolute neutrality. Since, -therefore, mere consciousness does not always confer great value upon -the whole of which it forms a part, even though its object may have -no great demerit, we cannot attribute the great superiority of the -consciousness of a beautiful thing over the beautiful thing itself -to the mere addition of the value of consciousness to that of the -beautiful thing. Whatever the intrinsic value of consciousness may -be, it does not give to the whole of which it forms a part a value -proportioned to the sum of its value and that of its object. If this -be so, we have here an instance of a whole possessing a different -intrinsic value from the sum of that of its parts; and whether it be so -or not, what is meant by such a difference is illustrated by this case. - - -=19.= There are, then, wholes which possess the property that their -value is different from the sum of the values of their parts; and the -relations which subsist between such parts and the whole of which they -form a part have not hitherto been distinctly recognised or received -a separate name. Two points are especially worthy of notice. (1) It -is plain that the existence of any such part is a necessary condition -for the existence of that good which is constituted by the whole. And -exactly the same language will also express the relation between a -means and the good thing which is its effect. But yet there is a most -important difference between the two cases, constituted by the fact -that the part is, whereas the means is not, a part of the good thing -for the existence of which its existence is a necessary condition. The -necessity by which, if the good in question is to exist, the means to -it must exist is merely a natural or causal necessity. If the laws of -nature were different, exactly the same good might exist, although -what is now a necessary condition of its existence did not exist. -The existence of the means has no intrinsic value; and its utter -annihilation would leave the value of that which it is now necessary -to secure entirely unchanged. But in the case of a part of such a -whole as we are now considering, it is otherwise. In this case the -good in question cannot conceivably exist, unless the part exist also. -The necessity which connects the two is quite independent of natural -law. What is asserted to have intrinsic value is the existence of the -whole; and the existence of the whole includes the existence of its -part. Suppose the part removed, and what remains is _not_ what was -asserted to have intrinsic value; but if we suppose a means removed, -what remains is just what _was_ asserted to have intrinsic value. And -yet (2) the existence of the part may _itself_ have no more intrinsic -value than that of the means. It is this fact which constitutes the -paradox of the relation which we are discussing. It has just been -said that what has intrinsic value is the existence of the whole, and -that this includes the existence of the part; and from this it would -seem a natural inference that the existence of the part has intrinsic -value. But the inference would be as false as if we were to conclude -that, because the number of two stones was two, each of the stones was -also two. The part of a valuable whole retains exactly the same value -when it is, as when it is not, a part of that whole. If it had value -under other circumstances, its value is not any greater, when it is -part of a far more valuable whole; and if it had no value by itself, -it has none still, however great be that of the whole of which it now -forms a part. We are not then justified in asserting that one and the -same thing is under some circumstances intrinsically good, and under -others not so; as we are justified in asserting of a means that it -sometimes does and sometimes does not produce good results. And yet we -are justified in asserting that it is far more desirable that a certain -thing should exist under some circumstances than under others; namely -when other things will exist in such relations to it as to form a more -valuable whole. _It_ will not have more intrinsic value under these -circumstances than under others; _it_ will not necessarily even be a -means to the existence of things having more intrinsic value: but it -will, like a means, be a necessary condition for the existence of that -which _has_ greater intrinsic value, although, unlike a means, it will -itself form a part of this more valuable existent. - - -=20.= I have said that the peculiar relation between part and whole -which I have just been trying to define is one which has received no -separate name. It would, however, be useful that it should have one; -and there is a name, which might well be appropriated to it, if only -it could be divorced from its present unfortunate usage. Philosophers, -especially those who profess to have derived great benefit from the -writings of Hegel, have latterly made much use of the terms ‘organic -whole,’ ‘organic unity,’ ‘organic relation.’ The reason why these terms -might well be appropriated to the use suggested is that the peculiar -relation of parts to whole, just defined, is one of the properties -which distinguishes the wholes to which they are actually applied with -the greatest frequency. And the reason why it is desirable that they -should be divorced from their present usage is that, as at present -used, they have no distinct sense and, on the contrary, both imply and -propagate errors of confusion. - -To say that a thing is an ‘organic whole’ is generally understood -to imply that its parts are related to one another and to itself -as means to end; it is also understood to imply that they have a -property described in some such phrase as that they have ‘no meaning -or significance apart from the whole’; and finally such a whole is -also treated as if it had the property to which I am proposing that -the name should be confined. But those who use the term give us, in -general, no hint as to how they suppose these three properties to be -related to one another. It seems generally to be assumed that they are -identical; and always, at least, that they are necessarily connected -with one another. That they are not identical I have already tried to -shew; to suppose them so is to neglect the very distinctions pointed -out in the last paragraph; and the usage might well be discontinued -merely because it encourages such neglect. But a still more cogent -reason for its discontinuance is that, so far from being necessarily -connected, the second is a property which can attach to nothing, being -a self-contradictory conception; whereas the first, if we insist on its -most important sense, applies to many cases, to which we have no reason -to think that the third applies also, and the third certainly applies -to many to which the first does not apply. - - -=21.= These relations between the three properties just distinguished -may be illustrated by reference to a whole of the kind from which -the name ‘organic’ was derived--a whole which is an organism in the -scientific sense--namely the human body. - -(1) There exists between many parts of our body (though not between -all) a relation which has been familiarised by the fable, attributed -to Menenius Agrippa, concerning the belly and its members. We can -find in it parts such that the continued existence of the one is a -necessary condition for the continued existence of the other; while the -continued existence of this latter is also a necessary condition for -the continued existence of the former. This amounts to no more than -saying that in the body we have instances of two things, both enduring -for some time, which have a relation of mutual causal dependence on one -another--a relation of ‘reciprocity.’ Frequently no more than this is -meant by saying that the parts of the body form an ‘organic unity,’ or -that they are mutually means and ends to one another. And we certainly -have here a striking characteristic of living things. But it would be -extremely rash to assert that this relation of mutual causal dependence -was only exhibited by living things and hence was sufficient to define -their peculiarity. And it is obvious that of two things which have this -relation of mutual dependence, neither may have intrinsic value, or -one may have it and the other lack it. They are not necessarily ‘ends’ -to one another in any sense except that in which ‘end’ means ‘effect.’ -And moreover it is plain that in this sense the whole cannot be an end -to any of its parts. We are apt to talk of ‘the whole’ in contrast to -one of its parts, when in fact we mean only _the rest_ of the parts. -But strictly the whole must include all its parts and no part can -be a cause of the whole, because it cannot be a cause of itself. It -is plain, therefore, that this relation of mutual causal dependence -implies nothing with regard to the value of either of the objects which -have it; and that, even if both of them happen also to have value, this -relation between them is one which cannot hold between part and whole. - -But (2) it may also be the case that our body as a whole has a value -greater than the sum of values of its parts; and this may be what is -meant when it is said that the parts are means to the whole. It is -obvious that if we ask the question ‘Why _should_ the parts be such as -they are?’ a proper answer may be ‘Because the whole they form has so -much value.’ But it is equally obvious that the relation which we thus -assert to exist between part and whole is quite different from that -which we assert to exist between part and part when we say ‘This part -exists, because that one could not exist without it.’ In the latter -case we assert the two parts to be causally connected; but, in the -former, part and whole cannot be causally connected, and the relation -which we assert to exist between them may exist even though the parts -are not causally connected either. All the parts of a picture do not -have that relation of mutual causal dependence, which certain parts of -the body have, and yet the existence of those which do not have it may -be absolutely essential to the value of the whole. The two relations -are quite distinct in kind, and we cannot infer the existence of the -one from that of the other. It can, therefore, serve no useful purpose -to include them both under the same name; and if we are to say that -a whole is organic because its parts are (in this sense) ‘means’ to -the whole, we must _not_ say that it is organic because its parts are -causally dependent on one another. - - -=22.= But finally (3) the sense which has been most prominent in -recent uses of the term ‘organic whole’ is one whereby it asserts the -parts of such a whole to have a property which the parts of no whole -can possibly have. It is supposed that just as the whole would not -be what it is but for the existence of the parts, so the parts would -not be what they are but for the existence of the whole; and this is -understood to mean not merely that any particular part could not exist -unless the others existed too (which is the case where relation (1) -exists between the parts), but actually that the part is no distinct -object of thought--that the whole, of which it is a part, is in its -turn a part of it. That this supposition is self-contradictory a very -little reflection should be sufficient to shew. We may admit, indeed, -that when a particular thing is a part of a whole, it does possess a -predicate which it would not otherwise possess--namely that it is a -part of that whole. But what cannot be admitted is that this predicate -alters the nature or enters into the definition of the thing which has -it. When we think of the part _itself_, we mean just _that which_ we -assert, in this case, to _have_ the predicate that it is part of the -whole; and the mere assertion that _it_ is a part of the whole involves -that it should itself be distinct from that which we assert of it. -Otherwise we contradict ourselves since we assert that, not _it_, but -something else--namely it together with that which we assert of it--has -the predicate which we assert of it. In short, it is obvious that no -part contains analytically the whole to which it belongs, or any other -parts of that whole. The relation of part to whole is _not_ the same -as that of whole to part; and the very definition of the latter is -that it does contain analytically that which is said to be its part. -And yet this very self-contradictory doctrine is the chief mark which -shews the influence of Hegel upon modern philosophy--an influence which -pervades almost the whole of orthodox philosophy. This is what is -generally implied by the cry against falsification by abstraction: that -a whole is always a part of its part! ‘If you want to know the truth -about a part,’ we are told, ‘you must consider _not_ that part, but -something else--namely the whole: _nothing_ is true of the part, but -only of the whole.’ Yet plainly it must be true of the part at least -that it is a part of the whole; and it is obvious that when we say it -is, we do _not_ mean merely that the whole is a part of itself. This -doctrine, therefore, that a part can have ‘no meaning or significance -apart from its whole’ must be utterly rejected. It implies itself that -the statement ‘This is a part of that whole’ has a meaning; and in -order that this may have one, both subject and predicate must have a -distinct meaning. And it is easy to see how this false doctrine has -arisen by confusion with the two relations (1) and (2) which may really -be properties of wholes. - -(_a_) The _existence_ of a part may be connected by a natural or -causal necessity with the existence of the other parts of its whole; -and further what is a part of a whole and what has ceased to be such a -part, although differing intrinsically from one another, may be called -by one and the same name. Thus, to take a typical example, if an arm -be cut off from the human body, we still call it an arm. Yet an arm, -when it is a part of the body, undoubtedly differs from a dead arm: -and hence we may easily be led to say ‘The arm which is a part of the -body would not be what it is, if it were not such a part,’ and to think -that the contradiction thus expressed is in reality a characteristic -of things. But, in fact, the dead arm never was a part of the body; -it is only _partially_ identical with the living arm. Those parts of -it which are identical with parts of the living arm are exactly the -same, whether they belong to the body or not; and in them we have an -undeniable instance of one and the same thing at one time forming -a part, and at another not forming a part of the presumed ‘organic -whole.’ On the other hand those properties which _are_ possessed by -the living, and _not_ by the dead, arm, do not exist in a changed form -in the latter: they simply do not exist there _at all_. By a causal -necessity their existence depends on their having that relation to the -other parts of the body which we express by saying that they form part -of it. Yet, most certainly, _if_ they ever did not form part of the -body, they _would_ be exactly what they are when they do. That they -differ intrinsically from the properties of the dead arm and that they -form part of the body are propositions not analytically related to one -another. There is no contradiction in supposing them to retain such -intrinsic differences and yet not to form part of the body. - -But (_b_) when we are told that a living arm has no _meaning_ or -_significance_ apart from the body to which it belongs, a different -fallacy is also suggested. ‘To have meaning or significance’ is -commonly used in the sense of ‘to have importance’; and this again -means ‘to have value either as a means or as an end.’ Now it is quite -possible that even a living arm, apart from its body, would have no -intrinsic value whatever; although the whole of which it is a part -has great intrinsic value owing to its presence. Thus we may easily -come to say that, _as_ a part of the body, it has great value, whereas -_by itself_ it would have none; and thus that its whole ‘meaning’ -lies in its relation to the body. But in fact the value in question -obviously does not belong to _it_ at all. To have value merely as a -part is equivalent to having no value at all, but merely being a part -of that which has it. Owing, however, to neglect of this distinction, -the assertion that a part has value, _as a part_, which it would -not otherwise have, easily leads to the assumption that it is also -different, as a part, from what it would otherwise be; for it is, in -fact, true that two things which have a different value must also -differ in other respects. Hence the assumption that one and the same -thing, because it is a part of a more valuable whole at one time than -at another, therefore has more intrinsic value at one time than at -another, has encouraged the self-contradictory belief that one and the -same thing may be two different things, and that only in one of its -forms is it truly what it is. - -For these reasons, I shall, where it seems convenient, take the -liberty to use the term ‘organic’ with a special sense. I shall use -it to denote the fact that a whole has an intrinsic value different -in amount from the sum of the values of its parts. I shall use it to -denote this and only this. The term will not imply any causal relation -whatever between the parts of the whole in question. And it will not -imply either, that the parts are inconceivable except as parts of that -whole, or that, when they form parts of such a whole, they have a value -different from that which they would have if they did not. Understood -in this special and perfectly definite sense the relation of an organic -whole to its parts is one of the most important which Ethics has to -recognise. A chief part of that science should be occupied in comparing -the relative values of various goods; and the grossest errors will be -committed in such comparison if it be assumed that wherever two things -form a whole, the value of that whole is merely the sum of the values -of those two things. With this question of ‘organic wholes,’ then, we -complete the enumeration of the kind of problems, with which it is the -business of Ethics to deal. - - -=23.= In this chapter I have endeavoured to enforce the following -conclusions. (1) The peculiarity of Ethics is not that it investigates -assertions about human conduct, but that it investigates assertions -about that property of things which is denoted by the term ‘good,’ and -the converse property denoted by the term ‘bad.’ It must, in order -to establish its conclusions, investigate the truth of _all_ such -assertions, _except_ those which assert the relation of this property -only to a single existent (1-4). (2) This property, by reference to -which the subject-matter of Ethics must be defined, is itself simple -and indefinable (5-14). And (3) all assertions about its relation to -other things are of two, and only two, kinds: they either assert in -what degree things themselves possess this property, or else they -assert causal relations between other things and those which possess -it (15-17). Finally, (4) in considering the different degrees in which -things themselves possess this property, we have to take account of -the fact that a whole may possess it in a degree different from that -which is obtained by summing the degrees in which its parts possess it -(18-22). - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -NATURALISTIC ETHICS. - - -=24.= It results from the conclusions of Chapter I, that all ethical -questions fall under one or other of three classes. The first class -contains but one question--the question What is the nature of that -peculiar predicate, the relation of which to other things constitutes -the object of all other ethical investigations? or, in other words, -What is _meant_ by good? This first question I have already attempted -to answer. The peculiar predicate, by reference to which the sphere of -Ethics must be defined, is simple, unanalysable, indefinable. There -remain two classes of questions with regard to the relation of this -predicate to other things. We may ask either (1) To what things and -in what degree does this predicate directly attach? What things are -good in themselves? or (2) By what means shall we be able to make what -exists in the world as good as possible? What causal relations hold -between what is best in itself and other things? - -In this and the two following chapters, I propose to discuss certain -theories, which offer us an answer to the question What is good in -itself? I say advisedly--_an_ answer: for these theories are all -characterised by the fact that, if true, they would simplify the study -of Ethics very much. They all hold that there is only _one_ kind of -fact, of which the existence has any value at all. But they all also -possess another characteristic, which is my reason for grouping them -together and treating them first: namely that the main reason why the -single kind of fact they name has been held to define the sole good, -is that it has been held to define what is meant by ‘good’ itself. In -other words they are all theories of the end or ideal, the adoption of -which has been chiefly caused by the commission of what I have called -the naturalistic fallacy: they all confuse the first and second of the -three possible questions which Ethics can ask. It is, indeed, this fact -which explains their contention that only a single kind of thing is -good. That a thing should be good, it has been thought, _means_ that -it possesses this single property: and hence (it is thought) only what -possesses this property is good. The inference seems very natural; and -yet what is meant by it is self-contradictory. For those who make it -fail to perceive that their conclusion ‘what possesses this property is -good’ is a significant proposition: that it does not mean either ‘what -possesses this property, possesses this property’ or ‘the word “good” -denotes that a thing possesses this property.’ And yet, if it does -_not_ mean one or other of these two things, the inference contradicts -its own premise. - -I propose, therefore, to discuss certain theories of what is good in -itself, which are _based_ on the naturalistic fallacy, in the sense -that the commission of this fallacy has been the main cause of their -wide acceptance. The discussion will be designed both (1) further to -illustrate the fact that the naturalistic fallacy is a fallacy, or, in -other words, that we are all aware of a certain simple quality, which -(and not anything else) is what we mainly mean by the term ‘good’; -and (2) to shew that not one, but many different things, possess this -property. For I cannot hope to recommend the doctrine that things which -are good do not owe their goodness to their common possession of any -other property, without a criticism of the main doctrines, opposed -to this, whose power to recommend themselves is proved by their wide -prevalence. - - -=25.= The theories I propose to discuss may be conveniently divided -into two groups. The naturalistic fallacy always implies that when -we think ‘This is good,’ what we are thinking is that the thing in -question bears a definite relation to some one other thing. But this -one thing, by reference to which good is defined, may be either -what I may call a natural object--something of which the existence -is admittedly an object of experience--or else it may be an object -which is only inferred to exist in a supersensible real world. These -two types of ethical theory I propose to treat separately. Theories -of the second type may conveniently be called ‘metaphysical,’ and I -shall postpone consideration of them till Chapter IV. In this and -the following chapter, on the other hand, I shall deal with theories -which owe their prevalence to the supposition that good can be defined -by reference to a _natural object_; and these are what I mean by the -name, which gives the title to this chapter, ‘Naturalistic Ethics.’ It -should be observed that the fallacy, by reference to which I define -‘Metaphysical Ethics,’ is the same in kind; and I give it but one name, -the naturalistic fallacy. But when we regard the ethical theories -recommended by this fallacy, it seems convenient to distinguish those -which consider goodness to consist in a relation to something which -exists here and now, from those which do not. According to the former, -Ethics is an empirical or positive science: its conclusions could be -all established by means of empirical observation and induction. But -this is not the case with Metaphysical Ethics. There is, therefore, -a marked distinction between these two groups of ethical theories -based on the same fallacy. And within Naturalistic theories, too, a -convenient division may also be made. There is one natural object, -namely pleasure, which has perhaps been as frequently held to be the -sole good as all the rest put together. And there is, moreover, a -further reason for treating Hedonism separately. That doctrine has, I -think, as plainly as any other, owed its prevalence to the naturalistic -fallacy; but it has had a singular fate in that the writer, who first -clearly exposed the fallacy of the naturalistic arguments by which -it had been attempted to _prove_ that pleasure was the sole good, -has maintained that nevertheless it _is_ the sole good. I propose, -therefore, to divide my discussion of Hedonism from that of other -Naturalistic theories; treating of Naturalistic Ethics in general in -this chapter, and of Hedonism, in particular, in the next. - - -=26.= The subject of the present chapter is, then, ethical theories -which declare that no intrinsic value is to be found except in the -possession of some one _natural_ property, other than pleasure; and -which declare this because it is supposed that to be ‘good’ _means_ to -possess the property in question. Such theories I call ‘Naturalistic.’ -I have thus appropriated the name Naturalism to a particular method -of approaching Ethics--a method which, strictly understood, is -inconsistent with the possibility of any Ethics whatsoever. This -method consists in substituting for ‘good’ some one property of a -natural object or of a collection of natural objects; and in thus -replacing Ethics by some one of the natural sciences. In general, the -science thus substituted is one of the sciences specially concerned -with man, owing to the general mistake (for such I hold it to be) -of regarding the matter of Ethics as confined to human conduct. In -general, Psychology has been the science substituted, as by J. S. Mill; -or Sociology, as by Professor Clifford, and other modern writers. -But any other science might equally well be substituted. It is the -same fallacy which is implied, when Professor Tyndall recommends us -to ‘conform to the laws of matter’: and here the science which it is -proposed to substitute for Ethics is simply Physics. The name then is -perfectly general; for, no matter what the something is that good is -held to mean, the theory is still Naturalism. Whether good be defined -as yellow or green or blue, as loud or soft, as round or square, as -sweet or bitter, as productive of life or productive of pleasure, as -willed or desired or felt: whichever of these or of any other object in -the world, good may be held to _mean_, the theory, which holds it to -_mean_ them, will be a naturalistic theory. I have called such theories -naturalistic because all of these terms denote properties, simple -or complex, of some simple or complex natural object; and, before I -proceed to consider them, it will be well to define what is meant by -‘nature’ and by ‘natural objects.’ - -By ‘nature,’ then, I do mean and have meant that which is the -subject-matter of the natural sciences and also of psychology. It may -be said to include all that has existed, does exist, or will exist in -time. If we consider whether any object is of such a nature that it may -be said to exist now, to have existed, or to be about to exist, then -we may know that that object is a natural object, and that nothing, of -which this is not true, is a natural object. Thus for instance, of our -minds we should say that they did exist yesterday, that they do exist -to-day, and probably will exist in a minute or two. We shall say that -we had thoughts yesterday, which have ceased to exist now, although -their effects may remain: and in so far as those thoughts did exist, -they too are natural objects. - -There is, indeed, no difficulty about the ‘objects’ themselves, in -the sense in which I have just used the term. It is easy to say which -of them are natural, and which (if any) are not natural. But when we -begin to consider the properties of objects, then I fear the problem -is more difficult. Which among the properties of natural objects are -natural properties and which are not? For I do not deny that good is a -property of certain natural objects: certain of them, I think, _are_ -good; and yet I have said that ‘good’ itself is not a natural property. -Well, my test for these too also concerns their existence in time. -Can we imagine ‘good’ as existing _by itself_ in time, and not merely -as a property of some natural object? For myself, I cannot so imagine -it, whereas with the greater number of properties of objects--those -which I call the natural properties--their existence does seem to me to -be independent of the existence of those objects. They are, in fact, -rather parts of which the object is made up than mere predicates which -attach to it. If they were all taken away, no object would be left, not -even a bare substance: for they are in themselves substantial and give -to the object all the substance that it has. But this is not so with -good. If indeed good were a feeling, as some would have us believe, -then it would exist in time. But that is why to call it so is to commit -the naturalistic fallacy. It will always remain pertinent to ask, -whether the feeling itself is good; and if so, then good cannot itself -be identical with any feeling. - - -=27.= Those theories of Ethics, then, are ‘naturalistic’ which declare -the sole good to consist in some one property of things, which exists -in time; and which do so because they suppose that ‘good’ itself can -be defined by reference to such a property. And we may now proceed to -consider such theories. - -And, first of all, one of the most famous of ethical maxims is that -which recommends a ‘life according to nature.’ That was the principle -of the Stoic Ethics; but, since their Ethics has some claim to be -called metaphysical, I shall not attempt to deal with it here. But -the same phrase reappears in Rousseau; and it is not unfrequently -maintained even now that what we ought to do is to live naturally. Now -let us examine this contention in its general form. It is obvious, in -the first place, that we cannot say that everything natural is good, -except perhaps in virtue of some metaphysical theory, such as I shall -deal with later. If everything natural is equally good, then certainly -Ethics, as it is ordinarily understood, disappears: for nothing is -more certain, from an ethical point of view, than that some things -are bad and others good; the object of Ethics is, indeed, in chief -part, to give you general rules whereby you may avoid the one and -secure the other. What, then, does ‘natural’ mean, in this advice to -live naturally, since it obviously cannot apply to everything that is -natural? - -The phrase seems to point to a vague notion that there is some such -thing as natural good; to a belief that Nature may be said to fix and -decide what shall be good, just as she fixes and decides what shall -exist. For instance, it may be supposed that ‘health’ is susceptible -of a natural definition, that Nature has fixed what health shall be: -and health, it may be said, is obviously good; hence in this case -Nature has decided the matter; we have only to go to her and ask her -what health is, and we shall know what is good: we shall have based an -ethics upon science. But what is this natural definition of health? I -can only conceive that health should be defined in natural terms as -the _normal_ state of an organism for undoubtedly disease is also a -natural product. To say that health is what is preserved by evolution, -and what itself tends to preserve, in the struggle for existence, the -organism which possesses it, comes to the same thing: for the point -of evolution is that it pretends to give a causal explanation of why -some forms of life are normal and others are abnormal; it explains the -origin of species. When therefore we are told that health is natural, -we may presume that what is meant is that it is normal; and that when -we are told to pursue health as a natural end, what is implied is that -the normal must be good. But is it so obvious that the normal must -be good? Is it really obvious that health, for instance, is good? -Was the excellence of Socrates or of Shakespeare normal? Was it not -rather abnormal, extraordinary? It is, I think, obvious in the first -place, that not all that is good is normal; that, on the contrary, the -abnormal is often better than the normal: peculiar excellence, as well -as peculiar viciousness, must obviously be not normal but abnormal. -Yet it may be said that nevertheless the normal is good; and I myself -am not prepared to dispute that health is good. What I contend is -that this must not be taken to be obvious; that it must be regarded -as an open question. To declare it to be obvious is to suggest the -naturalistic fallacy: just as, in some recent books, a proof that -genius is diseased, abnormal, has been used in order to suggest that -genius ought not to be encouraged. Such reasoning is fallacious, and -dangerously fallacious. The fact is that in the very words ‘health’ -and ‘disease’ we do commonly include the notion that the one is good -and the other bad. But, when a so-called scientific definition of them -is attempted, a definition in natural terms, the only one possible is -that by way of ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal.’ Now, it is easy to prove that -some things commonly thought excellent are abnormal; and it follows -that they are diseased. But it does not follow, except by virtue of the -naturalistic fallacy, that those things, commonly thought good, are -therefore bad. All that has really been shewn is that in some cases -there is a conflict between the common judgment that genius is good, -and the common judgment that health is good. It is not sufficiently -recognised that the latter judgment has not a whit more warrant for -its truth than the former; that both are perfectly open questions. It -may be true, indeed, that by ‘healthy’ we do commonly imply ‘good’; -but that only shews that when we so use the word, we do not mean the -same thing by it as the thing which is meant in medical science. -That health, _when_ the word is used to denote something good, is -good, goes no way at all to shew that health, when the word is used -to denote something normal, is also good. We might as well say that, -because ‘bull’ denotes an Irish joke and also a certain animal, the -joke and the animal must be the same thing. We must not, therefore, be -frightened by the assertion that a thing is natural into the admission -that it is good; good does not, by definition, mean anything that is -natural; and it is therefore always an open question whether anything -that is natural is good. - - -=28.= But there is another slightly different sense in which the -word ‘natural’ is used with an implication that it denotes something -good. This is when we speak of natural affections, or unnatural -crimes and vices. Here the meaning seems to be, not so much that the -action or feeling in question is normal or abnormal, as that it is -necessary. It is in this connection that we are advised to imitate -savages and beasts. Curious advice certainly; but, of course, there -may be something in it. I am not here concerned to enquire under what -circumstances some of us might with advantage take a lesson from the -cow. I have really no doubt that such exist. What I am concerned with -is a certain kind of reason, which I think is sometimes used to support -this doctrine--a naturalistic reason. The notion sometimes lying at -the bottom of the minds of preachers of this gospel is that we cannot -improve on nature. This notion is certainly true, in the sense that -anything we can do, that may be better than the present state of -things, will be a natural product. But that is not what is meant by -this phrase; nature is again used to mean a mere part of nature; only -this time the part meant is not so much the normal as an arbitrary -minimum of what is necessary for life. And when this minimum is -recommended as ‘natural’--as the way of life to which Nature points her -finger--then the naturalistic fallacy is used. Against this position -I wish only to point out that though the performance of certain acts, -not in themselves desirable, may be _excused_ as necessary means to -the preservation of life, that is no reason for _praising_ them, or -advising us to limit ourselves to those simple actions which are -necessary, if it is possible for us to improve our condition even at -the expense of doing what is in this sense unnecessary. Nature does -indeed set limits to what is possible; she does control the means we -have at our disposal for obtaining what is good; and of this fact, -practical Ethics, as we shall see later, must certainly take account: -but when she is supposed to have a preference for what is necessary, -what is necessary means only what is necessary to obtain a certain end, -presupposed as the highest good; and what the highest good is Nature -cannot determine. Why should we suppose that what is merely necessary -to life is _ipso facto_ better than what is necessary to the study of -metaphysics, useless as that study may appear? It may be that life -is only worth living, because it enables us to study metaphysics--is -a necessary means thereto. The fallacy of this argument from nature -has been discovered as long ago as Lucian. ‘I was almost inclined to -laugh,’ says Callicratidas, in one of the dialogues imputed to him[4], -‘just now, when Charicles was praising irrational brutes and the -savagery of the Scythians: in the heat of his argument he was almost -repenting that he was born a Greek. What wonder if lions and bears and -pigs do not act as I was proposing? That which reasoning would fairly -lead a man to choose, cannot be had by creatures that do not reason, -simply because they are so stupid. If Prometheus or some other god had -given each of them the intelligence of a man, then they would not have -lived in deserts and mountains nor fed on one another. They would have -built temples just as we do, each would have lived in the centre of -his family, and they would have formed a nation bound by mutual laws. -Is it anything surprising that brutes, who have had the misfortune -to be unable to obtain by forethought any of the goods, with which -reasoning provides us, should have missed love too? Lions do not love; -but neither do they philosophise; bears do not love; but the reason -is they do not know the sweets of friendship. It is only men, who, by -their wisdom and their knowledge, after many trials, have chosen what -is best.’ - - [4] Ἔρωτες, 436-7. - - -=29.= To argue that a thing is good _because_ it is ‘natural,’ or -bad _because_ it is ‘unnatural,’ in these common senses of the term, -is therefore certainly fallacious: and yet such arguments are very -frequently used. But they do not commonly pretend to give a systematic -theory of Ethics. Among attempts to _systematise_ an appeal to nature, -that which is now most prevalent is to be found in the application to -ethical questions of the term ‘Evolution’--in the ethical doctrines -which have been called ‘Evolutionistic.’ These doctrines are those -which maintain that the course of ‘evolution,’ while it shews us the -direction in which we _are_ developing, thereby and for that reason -shews us the direction in which we _ought_ to develop. Writers, who -maintain such a doctrine, are at present very numerous and very -popular; and I propose to take as my example the writer, who is -perhaps the best known of them all--Mr Herbert Spencer. Mr Spencer’s -doctrine, it must be owned, does not offer the _clearest_ example of -the naturalistic fallacy as used in support of Evolutionistic Ethics. -A clearer example might be found in the doctrine of Guyau[5], a writer -who has lately had considerable vogue in France, but who is not so well -known as Spencer. Guyau might almost be called a disciple of Spencer; -he is frankly evolutionistic, and frankly naturalistic; and I may -mention that he does not seem to think that he differs from Spencer by -reason of his naturalism. The point in which he has criticised Spencer -concerns the question how far the ends of ‘pleasure’ and of ‘increased -life’ coincide as motives and means to the attainment of the ideal: he -does not seem to think that he differs from Spencer in the fundamental -principle that the ideal is ‘Quantity of life, measured in breadth -as well as in length,’ or, as Guyau says, ‘Expansion and intensity -of life’; nor in the naturalistic reason which he gives for this -principle. And I am not sure that he does differ from Spencer in these -points. Spencer does, as I shall shew, use the naturalistic fallacy in -details; but with regard to his fundamental principles, the following -doubts occur: Is he fundamentally a Hedonist? And, if so, is he a -naturalistic Hedonist? In that case he would better have been treated -in my next chapter. Does he hold that a tendency to increase quantity -of life is merely a _criterion_ of good conduct? Or does he hold that -such increase of life is marked out by nature as an end at which we -ought to aim? - - [5] See _Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction_, par - M. Guyau. 4me édition. Paris: F. Alcan, 1896. - -I think his language in various places would give colour to all these -hypotheses; though some of them are mutually inconsistent. I will try -to discuss the main points. - - -=30.= The modern vogue of ‘Evolution’ is chiefly owing to Darwin’s -investigations as to the origin of species. Darwin formed a strictly -biological hypothesis as to the manner in which certain forms of animal -life became established, while others died out and disappeared. His -theory was that this might be accounted for, partly at least, in the -following way. When certain varieties occurred (the cause of their -occurrence is still, in the main, unknown), it might be that some of -the points, in which they varied from their parent species or from -other species then existing, made them better able to persist in the -environment in which they found themselves--less liable to be killed -off. They might, for instance, be better able to endure the cold or -heat or changes of the climate; better able to find nourishment from -what surrounded them; better able to escape from or resist other -species which fed upon them; better fitted to attract or to master the -other sex. Being thus less liable to die, their numbers relatively to -other species would increase; and that very increase in their numbers -might tend towards the extinction of those other species. This theory, -to which Darwin gave the name ‘Natural Selection,’ was also called the -theory of survival of the fittest. The natural process which it thus -described was called evolution. It was very natural to suppose that -evolution meant evolution from what was lower into what was higher; -in fact it was observed that at least one species, commonly called -higher--the species man--had so survived, and among men again it was -supposed that the higher races, ourselves for example, had shewn a -tendency to survive the lower, such as the North American Indians. -We can kill them more easily than they can kill us. The doctrine of -evolution was then represented as an explanation of how the higher -species survives the lower. Spencer, for example, constantly uses -‘more evolved’ as equivalent to ‘higher.’ But it is to be noted that -this forms no part of Darwin’s scientific theory. That theory will -explain, equally well, how by an alteration in the environment (the -gradual cooling of the earth, for example) quite a different species -from man, a species which we think infinitely lower, might survive us. -The survival of the fittest does _not_ mean, as one might suppose, the -survival of what is fittest to fulfil a good purpose best adapted to a -good end: at the last, it means merely the survival of the fittest to -survive; and the value of the scientific theory, and it is a theory of -great value, just consists in shewing what are the causes which produce -certain biological effects. Whether these effects are good or bad, it -cannot pretend to judge. - - -=31.= But now let us hear what Mr Spencer says about the application of -Evolution to Ethics. - -‘I recur,’ he says[6], ‘to the main proposition set forth in these -two chapters, which has, I think, been fully justified. Guided by -the truth that as the conduct with which Ethics deals is part of -conduct at large, conduct at large must be generally understood -before this part can be specially understood; and guided by the -further truth that to understand conduct at large we must understand -the evolution of conduct; we have been led to see that Ethics has -for its subject-matter, that form which universal conduct assumes -during the last stages of its evolution. We have also concluded that -these last stages in the evolution of conduct are those displayed -by the _highest_[7] type of being when he is forced, by increase of -numbers, to live more and more in presence of his fellows. And there -has followed _the corollary that conduct gains ethical sanction_[7] -in proportion as the activities, becoming less and less militant and -more and more industrial, are such as do not necessitate mutual injury -or hindrance, but consist with, and are furthered by, co-operation and -mutual aid. - - [6] _Data of Ethics_, Chap. II, § 7, _ad fin._ - - [7] The italics are mine. - -‘These implications of the Evolution-Hypothesis, we shall now see -harmonize with the leading moral ideas men have otherwise reached.’ - -Now, if we are to take the last sentence strictly--if the propositions -which precede it are really thought by Mr Spencer to be _implications_ -of the Evolution-Hypothesis--there can be no doubt that Mr Spencer has -committed the naturalistic fallacy. All that the Evolution-Hypothesis -tells us is that certain kinds of conduct are more evolved than others; -and this is, in fact, all that Mr Spencer has attempted to prove in -the two chapters concerned. Yet he tells us that one of the things it -has proved is that _conduct gains ethical sanction_ in proportion as it -displays certain characteristics. What he has tried to prove is only -that, in proportion as it displays those characteristics, it is _more -evolved_. It is plain, then, that Mr Spencer _identifies_ the gaining -of ethical sanction with the being more evolved: this follows strictly -from his words. But Mr Spencer’s language is extremely loose; and we -shall presently see that he seems to regard the view it here implies -as false. We cannot, therefore, take it as Mr Spencer’s definite view -that ‘better’ means nothing but ‘more evolved’; or even that what is -‘more evolved’ is _therefore_ ‘better.’ But we are entitled to urge -that he is influenced by these views, and therefore by the naturalistic -fallacy. It is only by the assumption of such influence that we can -explain his confusion as to what he has really proved, and the absence -of any attempt to prove, what he says he has proved, that conduct -which is more evolved is better. We shall look in vain for any attempt -to shew that ‘ethical sanction’ is in proportion to ‘evolution,’ or -that it is the ‘highest’ type of being which displays the most evolved -conduct; yet Mr Spencer concludes that this is the case. It is only -fair to assume that he is not sufficiently conscious how much these -propositions stand in need of proof--what a very different thing is -being ‘more evolved’ from being ‘higher’ or ‘better.’ It may, of -course, be true that what is more evolved is also higher and better. -But Mr Spencer does not seem aware that to assert the one is in any -case not the same thing as to assert the other. He argues at length -that certain kinds of conduct are ‘more evolved,’ and then informs -us that he has proved them to gain ethical sanction in proportion, -without any warning that he has omitted the most essential step in such -a proof. Surely this is sufficient evidence that he does not see how -essential that step is. - - -=32.= Whatever be the degree of Mr Spencer’s own guilt, what has -just been said will serve to illustrate the kind of fallacy which -is constantly committed by those who profess to ‘base’ Ethics on -Evolution. But we must hasten to add that the view which Mr Spencer -elsewhere most emphatically recommends is an utterly different one. It -will be useful briefly to deal with this, in order that no injustice -may be done to Mr Spencer. The discussion will be instructive partly -from the lack of clearness, which Mr Spencer displays, as to the -relation of this view to the ‘evolutionistic’ one just described; and -partly because there is reason to suspect that in this view also he is -influenced by the naturalistic fallacy. - -We have seen that, at the end of his second chapter, Mr Spencer seems -to announce that he has already proved certain characteristics of -conduct to be a measure of its ethical value. He seems to think that -he has proved this merely by considering the evolution of conduct; and -he has certainly not given any such proof, unless we are to understand -that ‘more evolved’ is a mere synonym for ‘ethically better.’ He -now promises merely to _confirm_ this certain conclusion by shewing -that it ‘harmonizes with the leading moral ideas men have otherwise -reached.’ But, when we turn to his third chapter, we find that what -he actually does is something quite different. He here asserts that -to establish the conclusion ‘Conduct is better in proportion as it -is more evolved’ an entirely new proof is necessary. That conclusion -will be _false_, unless a certain proposition, of which we have heard -nothing so far, is true--unless it be true that life is _pleasant_ on -the whole. And the ethical proposition, for which he claims the support -of the ‘leading moral ideas’ of mankind, turns out to be that ‘life -is good or bad, according as it does, or does not, bring a surplus -of agreeable feeling’ (§ 10). Here, then, Mr Spencer appears, not as -an Evolutionist, but as a Hedonist, in Ethics. No conduct is better, -_because_ it is more evolved. Degree of evolution can at most be a -_criterion_ of ethical value; and it will only be that, if we can prove -the extremely difficult generalisation that the more evolved is always, -on the whole, the pleasanter. It is plain that Mr Spencer here rejects -the naturalistic identification of ‘better’ with ‘more evolved’; -but it is possible that he is influenced by another naturalistic -identification--that of ‘good’ with ‘pleasant.’ It is possible that Mr -Spencer is a naturalistic Hedonist. - - -=33.= Let us examine Mr Spencer’s own words. He begins this third -chapter by an attempt to shew that _we call_ ‘good the acts conducive -to life, in self or others, and bad those which directly or indirectly -tend towards death, special or general’ (§ 9). And then he asks: ‘Is -there any assumption made’ in so calling them? ‘Yes’; he answers, -‘an assumption of extreme significance has been made--an assumption -underlying all moral estimates. The question to be definitely raised -and answered before entering on any ethical discussion, is the question -of late much agitated--Is life worth living? Shall we take the -pessimist view? or shall we take the optimist view?... On the answer -to this question depends every decision concerning the goodness or -badness of conduct.’ But Mr Spencer does not immediately proceed to -give the answer. Instead of this, he asks another question: ‘But now, -have these irreconcilable opinions [pessimist and optimist] anything -in common?’ And this question he immediately answers by the statement: -‘Yes, there is one postulate in which pessimists and optimists agree. -Both their arguments assume it to be self-evident that life is good or -bad, according as it does, or does not, bring a surplus of agreeable -feeling’ (§ 10). It is to the defence of this statement that the rest -of the chapter is devoted; and at the end Mr Spencer formulates his -conclusion in the following words: ‘No school can avoid taking for the -ultimate moral aim a desirable state of feeling called by whatever -name--gratification, enjoyment, happiness. Pleasure somewhere, at -some time, to some being or beings, is an inexpugnable element of the -conception’ (§ 16 _ad fin._). - -Now in all this, there are two points to which I wish to call -attention. The first is that Mr Spencer does not, after all, tell us -clearly what he takes to be the relation of Pleasure and Evolution in -ethical theory. Obviously he should mean that pleasure is the _only_ -intrinsically desirable thing; that other good things are ‘good’ only -in the sense that they are means to its existence. Nothing but this -can properly be meant by asserting it to be ‘_the_ ultimate moral -aim,’ or, as he subsequently says (§ 62 _ad fin._), ‘_the_ ultimately -supreme end.’ And, if this were so, it would follow that the more -evolved conduct was better than the less evolved, only because, and in -proportion as, it gave more pleasure. But Mr Spencer tells us that two -conditions are, taken together, _sufficient_ to prove the more evolved -conduct better: (1) That it should tend to produce more life; (2) That -life should be worth living or contain a balance of pleasure. And the -point I wish to emphasise is that if these conditions are sufficient, -then pleasure cannot be the sole good. For though to produce more life -is, if the second of Mr Spencer’s propositions be correct, _one way_ of -producing more pleasure, it is not the only way. It is quite possible -that a small quantity of life, which was more intensely and uniformly -present, should give a greater quantity of pleasure than the greatest -possible quantity of life that was only just ‘worth living.’ And in -that case, on the hedonistic supposition that pleasure is the only -thing worth having, we should have to prefer the smaller quantity of -life and therefore, according to Mr Spencer, the less evolved conduct. -Accordingly, if Mr Spencer is a true Hedonist, the fact that life gives -a balance of pleasure is _not_, as he seems to think, sufficient to -prove that the more evolved conduct is the better. If Mr Spencer means -us to understand that it _is_ sufficient, then his view about pleasure -can only be, not that it is the sole good or ‘ultimately supreme end,’ -but that a balance of it is a necessary constituent of the supreme end. -In short, Mr Spencer seems to maintain that more life is decidedly -better than less, _if only_ it give a balance of pleasure: and that -contention is inconsistent with the position that pleasure is ‘_the_ -ultimate moral aim.’ Mr Spencer implies that of two quantities of life, -which gave an equal amount of pleasure, the larger would nevertheless -be preferable to the less. And if this be so, then he must maintain -that quantity of life or degree of evolution is itself an ultimate -condition of value. He leaves us, therefore, in doubt whether he is -not still retaining the Evolutionistic proposition, that the more -evolved is better, simply because it is more evolved, alongside of -the Hedonistic proposition, that the more pleasant is better, simply -because it is more pleasant. - -But the second question which we have to ask is: What reasons has Mr -Spencer for assigning to pleasure the position which he does assign -to it? He tells us, we saw, that the ‘arguments’ both of pessimists -and of optimists ‘assume it to be self-evident that life is good or -bad, according as it does, or does not, bring a surplus of agreeable -feeling’; and he betters this later by telling us that ‘since avowed or -implied pessimists, and optimists of one or other shade, taken together -constitute all men, it results that this postulate is universally -accepted’ (§ 16). That these statements are absolutely false is, -of course, quite obvious: but why does Mr Spencer think them true? -and, what is more important (a question which Mr Spencer does not -distinguish too clearly from the last), why does he think the postulate -itself to be true? Mr Spencer himself tells us his ‘proof is’ that -‘reversing the application of the words’ good and bad--applying the -word ‘good’ to conduct, the ‘aggregate results’ of which are painful, -and the word ‘bad’ to conduct, of which the ‘aggregate results’ are -pleasurable--‘creates absurdities’ (§ 16). He does not say whether this -is because it is absurd to think that the quality, which we _mean by -the word_ ‘good,’ really applies to what is painful. Even, however, -if we assume him to mean this, and if we assume that absurdities are -thus created, it is plain he would only prove that what is painful is -properly thought to be _so far_ bad, and what is pleasant to be _so -far_ good: it would not prove at all that pleasure is ‘_the_ supreme -end.’ There is, however, reason to think that part of what Mr Spencer -means is the naturalistic fallacy: that he imagines ‘pleasant’ or -‘productive of pleasure’ is the very meaning of the word ‘good,’ and -that ‘the absurdity’ is due to this. It is at all events certain that -he does not distinguish this possible meaning from that which would -admit that ‘good’ denotes an unique indefinable quality. The doctrine -of naturalistic Hedonism is, indeed, quite strictly implied in his -statement that ‘virtue’ cannot ‘_be defined_ otherwise than in terms of -happiness’ (§ 13); and, though, as I remarked above, we cannot insist -upon Mr Spencer’s words as a certain clue to any definite meaning, that -is only because he generally expresses by them several inconsistent -alternatives--the naturalistic fallacy being, in this case, one such -alternative. It is certainly impossible to find any further reasons -given by Mr Spencer for his conviction that pleasure both is the -supreme end, and is universally admitted to be so. He seems to assume -throughout that we _must_ mean by good conduct what is productive of -pleasure, and by bad what is productive of pain. So far, then, as he is -a Hedonist, he would seem to be a naturalistic Hedonist. - -So much for Mr Spencer. It is, of course, quite possible that his -treatment of Ethics contains many interesting and instructive remarks. -It would seem, indeed, that Mr Spencer’s main view, that of which he -is most clearly and most often conscious, is that pleasure is the -sole good, and that to consider the direction of evolution is by far -the best _criterion_ of the way in which we shall get most of it: -and this theory, _if_ he could establish that amount of pleasure is -always in direct proportion to amount of evolution _and also_ that it -was plain what conduct was more evolved, _would_ be a very valuable -contribution to the science of Sociology; it would even, if pleasure -were the sole good, be a valuable contribution to Ethics. But the above -discussion should have made it plain that, if what we want from an -ethical philosopher is a scientific and systematic Ethics, not merely -an Ethics professedly ‘based on science’; if what we want is a clear -discussion of the fundamental principles of Ethics, and a statement of -the ultimate reasons why one way of acting should be considered better -than another--then Mr Spencer’s ‘Data of Ethics’ is immeasurably far -from satisfying these demands. - - -=34.= It remains only to state clearly what is definitely fallacious -in prevalent views as to the relation of Evolution to Ethics--in -those views with regard to which it seems so uncertain how far Mr -Spencer intends to encourage them. I proposed to confine the term -‘Evolutionistic Ethics’ to the view that we need only to consider the -tendency of ‘evolution’ in order to discover the direction in which -we _ought_ to go. This view must be carefully distinguished from -certain others, which may be commonly confused with it. (1) It might, -for instance, be held that the direction in which living things have -hitherto developed is, as a matter of fact, the direction of progress. -It might be held that the ‘more evolved’ is, as a matter of fact, also -better. And in such a view no fallacy is involved. But, if it is to -give us any guidance as to how we ought to act in the future, it does -involve a long and painful investigation of the exact points in which -the superiority of the more evolved consists. We cannot assume that, -because evolution is progress _on the whole_, therefore every point -in which the more evolved differs from the less is a point in which -it is better than the less. A simple consideration of the course of -evolution will therefore, on this view, by no means suffice to inform -us of the course we ought to pursue. We shall have to employ all the -resources of a strictly ethical discussion in order to arrive at a -correct valuation of the different results of evolution--to distinguish -the more valuable from the less valuable, and both from those which -are no better than their causes, or perhaps even worse. In fact it -is difficult to see how, on this view--if all that be meant is that -evolution has _on the whole_ been a progress--the theory of evolution -can give any assistance to Ethics at all. The judgment that evolution -has been a progress is itself an independent ethical judgment; and even -if we take it to be more certain and obvious than any of the detailed -judgments upon which it must logically depend for confirmation, we -certainly cannot use it as a datum from which to infer details. It is, -at all events, certain that, if this had been the _only_ relation held -to exist between Evolution and Ethics, no such importance would have -been attached to the bearing of Evolution on Ethics as we actually find -claimed for it. (2) The view, which, as I have said, seems to be Mr -Spencer’s main view, may also be held without fallacy. It may be held -that the more evolved, though not itself the better, is a _criterion_, -because a concomitant, of the better. But this view also obviously -involves an exhaustive preliminary discussion of the fundamental -ethical question what, after all, is better. That Mr Spencer entirely -dispenses with such a discussion in support of his contention that -pleasure is the sole good, I have pointed out; and that, if we attempt -such a discussion, we shall arrive at no such simple result, I shall -presently try to shew. If however the good is not simple, it is by -no means likely that we shall be able to discover Evolution to be a -criterion of it. We shall have to establish a relation between two -highly complicated sets of data; and, moreover, if we had once settled -what were goods, and what their comparative values, it is extremely -unlikely that we should need to call in the aid of Evolution as a -criterion of how to get the most. It is plain, then, again, that if -this were the only relation imagined to exist between Evolution and -Ethics, it could hardly have been thought to justify the assignment -of any importance in Ethics to the theory of Evolution. Finally, (3) -it may be held that, though Evolution gives us no help in discovering -what results of our efforts will be best, it does give some help in -discovering what it is _possible_ to attain and what are the means to -its attainment. That the theory really may be of service to Ethics in -this way cannot be denied. But it is certainly not common to find this -humble, ancillary bearing clearly and exclusively assigned to it. In -the mere fact, then, that these non-fallacious views of the relation -of Evolution to Ethics would give so very little importance to that -relation, we have evidence that what is typical in the coupling of the -two names is the fallacious view to which I propose to restrict the -name ‘Evolutionistic Ethics.’ This is the view that we ought to move -in the direction of evolution simply _because_ it is the direction -of evolution. That the forces of Nature are working on that side is -taken as a presumption that it is the right side. That such a view, -apart from metaphysical presuppositions, with which I shall presently -deal, is simply fallacious, I have tried to shew. It can only rest on -a confused belief that somehow the good simply _means_ the side on -which Nature is working. And it thus involves another confused belief -which is very marked in Mr Spencer’s whole treatment of Evolution. -For, after all, is Evolution the side on which Nature is working? In -the sense, which Mr Spencer gives to the term, and in any sense in -which it can be regarded as a fact that the more evolved is higher, -Evolution denotes only a _temporary_ historical process. That things -will permanently continue to evolve in the future, or that they have -always evolved in the past, we have not the smallest reason to believe. -For Evolution does not, in this sense, denote a natural _law_, like -the law of gravity. Darwin’s theory of natural selection does indeed -state a natural law: it states that, given certain conditions, certain -results will always happen. But Evolution, as Mr Spencer understands -it and as it is commonly understood, denotes something very different. -It denotes only a process which has actually occurred at a given time, -because the conditions at the beginning of that time happened to be of -a certain nature. That such conditions will always be given, or have -always been given, cannot be assumed; and it is only the process which, -according to natural law, must follow from _these_ conditions and no -others, that appears to be also on the whole a progress. Precisely the -same natural laws--Darwin’s, for instance--would under other conditions -render inevitable not Evolution--not a development from lower to -higher--but the converse process, which has been called Involution. Yet -Mr Spencer constantly speaks of the process which is exemplified in -the development of man as if it had all the augustness of a universal -Law of Nature: whereas we have no reason to believe it other than a -temporary accident, requiring not only certain universal natural laws, -but also the existence of a certain state of things at a certain time. -The only _laws_ concerned in the matter are certainly such as, under -other circumstances, would allow us to infer, not the development, -but the extinction of man. And that circumstances will always be -favourable to further development, that Nature will always work on the -side of Evolution, we have no reason whatever to believe. Thus the -idea that Evolution throws important light on Ethics seems to be due -to a double confusion. Our respect for the process is enlisted by the -representation of it as the Law of Nature. But, on the other hand, our -respect for Laws of Nature would be speedily diminished, did we not -imagine that this desirable process was one of them. To suppose that a -Law of Nature is _therefore_ respectable, is to commit the naturalistic -fallacy; but no one, probably, would be tempted to commit it, unless -something which _is_ respectable, were represented as a Law of Nature. -If it were clearly recognised that there is no evidence for supposing -Nature to be on the side of the Good, there would probably be less -tendency to hold the opinion, which on other grounds is demonstrably -false, that no such evidence is required. And if both false opinions -were clearly seen to be false, it would be plain that Evolution has -very little indeed to say to Ethics. - - -=35.= In this chapter I have begun the criticism of certain ethical -views, which seem to owe their influence mainly to the naturalistic -fallacy--the fallacy which consists in identifying the simple notion -which we mean by ‘good’ with some other notion. They are views which -profess to tell us what is good in itself; and my criticism of them -is mainly directed (1) to bring out the negative result, that we have -no reason to suppose that which they declare to be the sole good, -really to be so, (2) to illustrate further the positive result, already -established in Chapter I, that the fundamental principles of Ethics -must be _synthetic_ propositions, declaring what things, and in what -degree, possess a simple and unanalysable property which may be called -‘intrinsic value’ or ‘goodness.’ The chapter began (1) by dividing the -views to be criticised into (_a_) those which, supposing ‘good’ to -be defined by reference to some supersensible reality, conclude that -the sole good is to be found in such a reality, and may therefore be -called ‘Metaphysical,’ (_b_) those which assign a similar position to -some natural object, and may therefore be called ‘Naturalistic.’ Of -naturalistic views, that which regards ‘pleasure’ as the sole good has -received far the fullest and most serious treatment and was therefore -reserved for Chapter III: all other forms of Naturalism may be first -dismissed, by taking typical examples (24-26). (2) As typical of -naturalistic views, other than Hedonism, there was first taken the -popular commendation of what is ‘natural’: it was pointed out that by -‘natural’ there might here be meant either ‘normal’ or ‘necessary,’ -and that neither the ‘normal’ nor the ‘necessary’ could be seriously -supposed to be either always good or the only good things (27-28). (3) -But a more important type, because one which claims to be capable of -system, is to be found in ‘Evolutionistic Ethics.’ The influence of the -fallacious opinion that to be ‘better’ _means_ to be ‘more evolved’ was -illustrated by an examination of Mr Herbert Spencer’s Ethics; and it -was pointed out that, but for the influence of this opinion, Evolution -could hardly have been supposed to have any important bearing upon -Ethics (29-34). - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -HEDONISM. - - -=36.= In this chapter we have to deal with what is perhaps the most -famous and the most widely held of all ethical principles--the -principle that nothing is good but pleasure. My chief reason for -treating of this principle in this place is, as I said, that Hedonism -appears in the main to be a form of Naturalistic Ethics: in other -words, that pleasure has been so generally held to be the sole good, -is almost entirely due to the fact that it has seemed to be somehow -involved in the _definition_ of ‘good’--to be pointed out by the very -meaning of the word. If this is so, then the prevalence of Hedonism has -been mainly due to what I have called the naturalistic fallacy--the -failure to distinguish clearly that unique and indefinable quality -which we mean by good. And that it is so, we have very strong evidence -in the fact that, of all hedonistic writers, Prof. Sidgwick alone has -clearly recognised that by ‘good’ we do mean something unanalysable, -and has alone been led thereby to emphasise the fact that, if -Hedonism be true, its claims to be so must be rested solely on its -self-evidence--that we must maintain ‘Pleasure is the sole good’ to be -a mere _intuition_. It appeared to Prof. Sidgwick as a new discovery -that what he calls the ‘method’ of Intuitionism must be retained as -valid alongside of, and indeed as the foundation of, what he calls the -alternative ‘methods’ of Utilitarianism and Egoism. And that it was a -new discovery can hardly be doubted. In previous Hedonists we find no -clear and consistent recognition of the fact that their fundamental -proposition involves the assumption that a certain unique predicate -can be directly seen to belong to pleasure alone among existents: they -do not emphasise, as they could hardly have failed to have done had -they perceived it, how utterly independent of all other truths this -truth must be. - -Moreover it is easy to see how this unique position should have -been assigned to pleasure without any clear consciousness of the -assumption involved. Hedonism is, for a sufficiently obvious reason, -the first conclusion at which any one who begins to reflect upon -Ethics naturally arrives. It is very easy to notice the fact that we -are pleased with things. The things we enjoy and the things we do not, -form two unmistakable classes, to which our attention is constantly -directed. But it is comparatively difficult to distinguish the fact -that we _approve_ a thing from the fact that we are pleased with it. -Although, if we look at the two states of mind, we must see that they -are different, even though they generally go together, it is very -difficult to see in _what respect_ they are different, or that the -difference can in any connection be of more importance than the many -other differences, which are so patent and yet so difficult to analyse, -between one _kind_ of enjoyment and another. It is very difficult to -see that by ‘approving’ of a thing we mean _feeling that it has a -certain predicate_--the predicate, namely, which defines the peculiar -sphere of Ethics; whereas in the enjoyment of a thing no such unique -object of thought is involved. Nothing is more natural than the vulgar -mistake, which we find expressed in a recent book on Ethics[8]: ‘The -primary ethical fact is, we have said, that something is approved -or disapproved: that is, in other words, the ideal representation -of certain events in the way of sensation, perception, or idea, is -attended with a feeling of pleasure or of pain.’ In ordinary speech, -‘I want this,’ ‘I like this,’ ‘I care about this’ are constantly used -as equivalents for ‘I think this good.’ And in this way it is very -natural to be led to suppose that there is no distinct class of ethical -judgments, but only the class ‘things enjoyed’; in spite of the fact, -which is very clear, if not very common, that we do not always approve -what we enjoy. It is of course, very obvious that from the supposition -that ‘I think this good’ is identical with ‘I am pleased with this,’ -it cannot be _logically_ inferred that pleasure alone is good. But, on -the other hand, it is very difficult to see what could be logically -inferred from such a supposition; and it seems _natural_ enough that -such an inference should suggest itself. A very little examination -of what is commonly written on the subject will suffice to shew that -a logical confusion of this nature is very common. Moreover the very -commission of the naturalistic fallacy involves that those who commit -it should not recognise clearly the meaning of the proposition ‘This -is good’--that they should not be able to distinguish this from other -propositions which seem to resemble it; and, where this is so, it is, -of course, impossible that its logical relations should be clearly -perceived. - - [8] A. E. Taylor’s _Problem of Conduct_, p. 120. - - -=37.= There is, therefore, ample reason to suppose that Hedonism is in -general a form of Naturalism--that its acceptance is generally due to -the naturalistic fallacy. It is, indeed, only when we have detected -this fallacy, when we have become clearly aware of the unique object -which is meant by ‘good,’ that we are able to give to Hedonism the -precise definition used above, ‘Nothing is good but pleasure’: and it -may, therefore, be objected that, in attacking this doctrine under the -name of Hedonism, I am attacking a doctrine which has never really been -held. But it is very common to hold a doctrine, without being clearly -aware what it is you hold; and though, when Hedonists argue in favour -of what they call Hedonism, I admit that, in order to suppose their -arguments valid, they must have before their minds something _other_ -than the doctrine I have defined, yet, in order to draw the conclusions -that they draw, it is necessary that they should _also_ have before -their minds this doctrine. In fact, my justification for supposing that -I shall have refuted _historical_ Hedonism, if I refute the proposition -‘Nothing is good but pleasure,’ is, that although Hedonists have -rarely stated their principle in this form and though its truth, in -this form, will certainly not follow from their arguments, yet their -ethical _method_ will follow logically from nothing else. Any pretence -of the hedonistic method, to discover to us practical truths which -we should not otherwise have known, is founded on the principle that -the course of action which will bring the greatest balance of pleasure -is certainly the right one; and, failing an absolute proof that the -greatest balance of pleasure _always_ coincides with the greatest -balance of other goods, which it is not generally attempted to give, -this principle can only be justified if pleasure be the sole good. -Indeed it can hardly be doubted that Hedonists are distinguished by -arguing, in disputed practical questions, _as if_ pleasure were the -sole good; and that it is justifiable, for this among other reasons, to -take this as _the_ ethical principle of Hedonism will, I hope, be made -further evident by the whole discussion of this chapter. - -By Hedonism, then, I mean the doctrine that pleasure _alone_ is good -as an end--‘good’ in the sense which I have tried to point out as -indefinable. The doctrine that pleasure, _among other things_, is good -as an end, is not Hedonism; and I shall not dispute its truth. Nor -again is the doctrine that other things, beside pleasure, are good as -means, at all inconsistent with Hedonism: the Hedonist is not bound -to maintain that ‘Pleasure alone is good,’ if under good he includes, -as we generally do, what is good as means to an end, _as well as_ the -end itself. In attacking Hedonism, I am therefore simply and solely -attacking the doctrine that ‘Pleasure _alone_ is good as an end or in -itself’: I am not attacking the doctrine that ‘Pleasure _is_ good as an -end or in itself,’ nor am I attacking any doctrine whatever as to what -are the best means we can take in order to obtain pleasure or any other -end. Hedonists do, in general, recommend a course of conduct which is -very similar to that which I should recommend. I do not quarrel with -them about most of their practical conclusions, I quarrel only with the -reasons by which they seem to think their conclusions can be supported; -and I do emphatically deny that the correctness of their conclusions is -any ground for inferring the correctness of their principles. A correct -conclusion may always be obtained by fallacious reasoning; and the good -life or virtuous maxims of a Hedonist afford absolutely no presumption -that his ethical philosophy is also good. It is his ethical philosophy -alone with which I am concerned: what I dispute is the excellence of -his reasoning, not the excellence of his character as a man or even as -moral teacher. It may be thought that my contention is unimportant, but -that is no ground for thinking that I am not in the right. What I am -concerned with is knowledge only--that we should think correctly and so -far arrive at some truth, however unimportant: I do not say that such -knowledge will make us more useful members of society. If any one does -not care for knowledge for its own sake, then I have nothing to say to -him; only it should not be thought that a lack of interest in what I -have to say is any ground for holding it untrue. - - -=38.= Hedonists, then, hold that all other things but pleasure, whether -conduct or virtue or knowledge, whether life or nature or beauty, are -only good as means to pleasure or for the sake of pleasure, never -for their own sakes or as ends in themselves. This view was held by -Aristippus, the disciple of Socrates, and by the Cyrenaic school which -he founded; it is associated with Epicurus and the Epicureans; and -it has been held in modern times, chiefly by those philosophers who -call themselves ‘Utilitarians’--by Bentham, and by Mill, for instance. -Herbert Spencer, as we have seen, also says he holds it; and Professor -Sidgwick, as we shall see, holds it too. - -Yet all these philosophers, as has been said, differ from one -another more or less, both as to what they mean by Hedonism, and as -to the reasons for which it is to be accepted as a true doctrine. -The matter is therefore obviously not quite so simple as it might -at first appear. My own object will be to shew quite clearly what -the theory must imply, if it is made precise, if all confusions and -inconsistencies are removed from the conception of it; and, when -this is done, I think it will appear that all the various reasons -given for holding it to be true, are really quite inadequate; that -they are not reasons for holding Hedonism, but only for holding some -other doctrine which is confused therewith. In order to attain this -object I propose to take first Mill’s doctrine, as set forth in his -book called _Utilitarianism_: we shall find in Mill a conception of -Hedonism, and arguments in its favour, which fairly represent those -of a large class of hedonistic writers. To these representative -conceptions and arguments grave objections, objections which appear to -me to be conclusive, have been urged by Professor Sidgwick. These I -shall try to give in my own words; and shall then proceed to consider -and refute Professor Sidgwick’s own much more precise conceptions and -arguments. With this, I think, we shall have traversed the whole field -of Hedonistic doctrine. It will appear, from the discussion, that the -task of deciding what is or is not good in itself is by no means an -easy one; and in this way the discussion will afford a good example -of the method which it is necessary to pursue in attempting to arrive -at the truth with regard to this primary class of ethical principles. -In particular it will appear that two principles of method must be -constantly kept in mind: (1) that the naturalistic fallacy must not -be committed; (2) that the distinction between means and ends must be -observed. - - -=39.= I propose, then, to begin by an examination of Mill’s -_Utilitarianism_. That is a book which contains an admirably clear and -fair discussion of many ethical principles and methods. Mill exposes -not a few simple mistakes which are very likely to be made by those -who approach ethical problems without much previous reflection. But -what I am concerned with is the mistakes which Mill himself appears -to have made, and these only so far as they concern the Hedonistic -principle. Let me repeat what that principle is. It is, I said, that -pleasure is the only thing at which we ought to aim, the only thing -that is good as an end and for its own sake. And now let us turn to -Mill and see whether he accepts this description of the question at -issue. ‘Pleasure,’ he says at the outset, ‘and freedom from pain, are -the only things desirable as ends’ (p. 10[9]); and again, at the end -of his argument, ‘To think of an object as desirable (unless for the -sake of its consequences) and to think of it as pleasant are one and -the same thing’ (p. 58). These statements, taken together, and apart -from certain confusions which are obvious in them, seem to imply the -principle I have stated; and if I succeed in shewing that Mill’s -reasons for them do not prove them, it must at least be admitted that I -have not been fighting with shadows or demolishing a man of straw. - - [9] My references are to the 13th edition, 1897. - -It will be observed that Mill adds ‘absence of pain’ to ‘pleasure’ -in his first statement, though not in his second. There is, in this, -a confusion, with which, however, we need not deal. I shall talk of -‘pleasure’ alone, for the sake of conciseness; but all my arguments -will apply _à fortiori_ to ‘absence of pain’: it is easy to make the -necessary substitutions. - -Mill holds, then, that ‘happiness is desirable, and _the only thing -desirable_[10], as an end; all other things being only desirable -as means to that end’ (p. 52). Happiness he has already defined as -‘pleasure, and the absence of pain’ (p. 10); he does not pretend that -this is more than an arbitrary verbal definition; and, as _such_, I -have not a word to say against it. His principle, then, is ‘pleasure is -the only thing desirable,’ if I may be allowed, when I say ‘pleasure,’ -to include in that word (so far as necessary) absence of pain. And -now what are his reasons for holding that principle to be true? He -has already told us (p. 6) that ‘Questions of ultimate ends are not -amenable to direct proof. Whatever can be proved to be good, must be so -by being shewn to be a means to something _admitted to be good without -proof_.’ With this, I perfectly agree: indeed the chief object of my -first chapter was to shew that this is so. Anything which is good as an -end must be admitted to be good without proof. We are agreed so far. -Mill even uses the same examples which I used in my second chapter. -‘How,’ he says, ‘is it possible to prove that health is good?’ ‘What -proof is it possible to give that pleasure is good?’ Well, in Chapter -IV, in which he deals with the proof of his Utilitarian principle, Mill -repeats the above statement in these words: ‘It has already,’ he says, -‘been remarked, that questions of ultimate ends do not admit of proof, -in the ordinary acceptation of the term’ (p. 52). ‘Questions about -ends,’ he goes on in this same passage, ‘are, in other words, questions -what things are desirable.’ I am quoting these repetitions, because -they make it plain what otherwise might have been doubted, that Mill is -using the words ‘desirable’ or ‘desirable as an end’ as absolutely and -precisely equivalent to the words ‘good as an end.’ We are, then, now -to hear, what reasons he advances for this doctrine that pleasure alone -is good as an end. - - [10] My italics. - - -=40.= ‘Questions about ends,’ he says (pp. 52-3), ‘are, in other words, -questions what things are desirable. The utilitarian doctrine is, that -happiness is desirable, and the only thing desirable, as an end; all -other things being only desirable as means to that end. What ought to -be required of this doctrine--what conditions is it requisite that the -doctrine should fulfil--to make good its claim to be believed? - -‘The only proof capable of being given that a thing is visible, is that -people actually see it. The only proof that a sound is audible, is -that people hear it; and so of the other sources of our experience. In -like manner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is possible to produce -that anything is desirable, is that people do actually desire it. If -the end which the utilitarian doctrine proposes to itself were not, -in theory and in practice, acknowledged to be an end, nothing could -ever convince any person that it was so. No reason can be given why -the general happiness is desirable, except that each person, so far -as he believes it to be attainable, desires his own happiness. This, -however, being the fact, we have not only all the proof which the case -admits of, but all which it is possible to require, that happiness is -a good: that each person’s happiness is a good to that person, and the -general happiness, therefore, a good to the aggregate of all persons. -Happiness has made out its title as _one_ of the ends of conduct, and -consequently one of the criteria of morality.’ - -There, that is enough. That is my first point. Mill has made as naïve -and artless a use of the naturalistic fallacy as anybody could desire. -‘Good,’ he tells us, means ‘desirable,’ and you can only find out what -is desirable by seeking to find out what is actually desired. This is, -of course, only one step towards the proof of Hedonism; for it may be, -as Mill goes on to say, that other things beside pleasure are desired. -Whether or not pleasure is the only thing desired is, as Mill himself -admits (p. 58), a psychological question, to which we shall presently -proceed. The important step for Ethics is this one just taken, the -step which pretends to prove that ‘good’ means ‘desired.’ Well, the -fallacy in this step is so obvious, that it is quite wonderful how Mill -failed to see it. The fact is that ‘desirable’ does not mean ‘able to -be desired’ as ‘visible’ means ‘able to be seen.’ The desirable means -simply what _ought_ to be desired or _deserves_ to be desired; just -as the detestable means not what can be but what ought to be detested -and the damnable what deserves to be damned. Mill has, then, smuggled -in, under cover of the word ‘desirable,’ the very notion about which -he ought to be quite clear. ‘Desirable’ does indeed mean ‘what it is -good to desire’; but when this is understood, it is no longer plausible -to say that our only test of _that_, is what is actually desired. Is -it merely a tautology when the Prayer Book talks of _good_ desires? -Are not _bad_ desires also possible? Nay, we find Mill himself talking -of a ‘better and nobler object of desire’ (p. 10), as if, after all, -what is desired were not _ipso facto_ good, and good in proportion to -the amount it is desired. Moreover, if the desired is _ipso facto_ the -good; then the good is _ipso facto_ the motive of our actions, and -there can be no question of finding motives for doing it, as Mill is -at such pains to do. If Mill’s explanation of ‘desirable’ be _true_, -then his statement (p. 26) that the rule of action may be _confounded_ -with the motive of it is untrue: for the motive of action will then be -according to him _ipso facto_ its rule; there can be no distinction -between the two, and therefore no confusion, and thus he has -contradicted himself flatly. These are specimens of the contradictions, -which, as I have tried to shew, must always follow from the use of -the naturalistic fallacy; and I hope I need now say no more about the -matter. - - -=41.= Well, then, the first step by which Mill has attempted to -establish his Hedonism is simply fallacious. He has attempted to -establish the identity of the good with the desired, by confusing the -proper sense of ‘desirable,’ in which it denotes that which it is good -to desire, with the sense which it would bear, if it were analogous -to such words as ‘visible.’ If ‘desirable’ is to be identical with -‘good,’ then it must bear one sense; and if it is to be identical with -‘desired,’ then it must bear quite another sense. And yet to Mill’s -contention that the desired is necessarily good, it is quite essential -that these two senses of ‘desirable’ should be the same. If he holds -they are the same, then he has contradicted himself elsewhere; if -he holds they are not the same, then the first step in his proof of -Hedonism is absolutely worthless. - -But now we must deal with the second step. Having proved, as he thinks, -that the good means the desired, Mill recognises that, if he is further -to maintain that pleasure alone is good, he must prove that pleasure -alone is really desired. This doctrine that ‘pleasure alone is the -object of all our desires’ is the doctrine which Prof. Sidgwick has -called Psychological Hedonism: and it is a doctrine which most eminent -psychologists are now agreed in rejecting. But it is a necessary step -in the proof of any such Naturalistic Hedonism as Mill’s; and it is -so commonly held, by people not expert either in psychology or in -philosophy, that I wish to treat it at some length. It will be seen -that Mill does not hold it in this bare form. He admits that other -things than pleasure are desired; and this admission is at once a -contradiction of his Hedonism. One of the shifts by which he seeks -to evade this contradiction we shall afterwards consider. But some -may think that no such shifts are needed: they may say of Mill, what -Callicles says of Polus in the _Gorgias_[11], that he has made this -fatal admission through a most unworthy fear of appearing paradoxical; -that they, on the other hand, will have the courage of their -convictions, and will not be ashamed to go to any lengths of paradox, -in defence of what they hold to be the truth. - - [11] 481 C-487 B. - - -=42.= Well, then, we are supposing it held that pleasure is the object -of all desire, that it is the universal end of all human activity. -Now I suppose it will not be denied that people are commonly said to -desire other things: for instance, we usually talk of desiring food -and drink, of desiring money, approbation, fame. The question, then, -must be of what is meant by desire, and by the object of desire. There -is obviously asserted some sort of necessary or universal relation -between something which is called desire, and another thing which is -called pleasure. The question is of what sort this relation is; whether -in conjunction with the naturalistic fallacy above mentioned, it will -justify Hedonism. Now I am not prepared to deny that there is some -universal relation between pleasure and desire; but I hope to shew, -that, if there is, it is of such sort as will rather make against than -for Hedonism. It is urged that pleasure is always the object of desire, -and I am ready to admit that pleasure is always, in part at least, the -_cause_ of desire. But this distinction is very important. Both views -might be expressed in the same language; both might be said to hold -that whenever we desire, we always desire _because of_ some pleasure: -if I asked my supposed Hedonist, ‘Why do you desire that?’ he might -answer, quite consistently with his contention, ‘Because there is -pleasure there,’ and if he asked me the same question, I might answer, -equally consistently with my contention, ‘Because there is pleasure -here.’ Only our two answers would not mean the same thing. It is this -use of the same language to denote quite different facts, which I -believe to be the chief cause why Psychological Hedonism is so often -held, just as it was also the cause of Mill’s naturalistic fallacy. - -Let us try to analyse the psychological state which is called ‘desire.’ -That name is usually confined to a state of mind in which the idea of -some object or event, not yet existing, is present to us. Suppose, -for instance, I am desiring a glass of port wine. I have the idea of -drinking such a glass before my mind, although I am not yet drinking -it. Well, how does pleasure enter in to this relation? My theory is -that it enters in, in this way. The _idea_ of the drinking causes a -feeling of pleasure in my mind, which helps to produce that state -of incipient activity, which is called ‘desire.’ It is, therefore, -because of a pleasure, which I already have--the pleasure excited -by a mere idea--that I desire the wine, which I have not. And I am -ready to admit that a pleasure of this kind, an actual pleasure, is -always among the causes of every desire, and not only of every desire, -but of every mental activity, whether conscious or sub-conscious. I -am ready to _admit_ this, I say: I cannot vouch that it is the true -psychological doctrine; but, at all events, it is not _primâ facie_ -quite absurd. And now, what is the other doctrine, the doctrine which -I am supposing held, and which is at all events essential to Mill’s -argument? It is this. That when I desire the wine, it is not the wine -which I desire but the pleasure which I expect to get from it. In -other words, the doctrine is that the idea of a pleasure _not actual_ -is always necessary to cause desire; whereas my doctrine was that the -_actual_ pleasure caused by the idea of something else was always -necessary to cause desire. It is these two different theories which I -suppose the Psychological Hedonists to confuse: the confusion is, as -Mr Bradley puts it[12], between ‘a pleasant thought’ and ‘the thought -of a pleasure.’ It is in fact only where the latter, the ‘thought of -a pleasure,’ is present, that pleasure can be said to be the _object_ -of desire, or the _motive_ to action. On the other hand, when only a -pleasant thought is present, as, I admit, _may_ always be the case, -then it is the object of the thought--that which we are thinking -about--which is the object of desire and the motive to action; and the -pleasure, which that thought excites, may, indeed, cause our desire or -move us to action, but it is not our end or object nor our motive. - - [12] _Ethical Studies_, p. 232. - -Well, I hope this distinction is sufficiently clear. Now let us see how -it bears upon Ethical Hedonism. I assume it to be perfectly obvious -that the idea of the object of desire is not always and only the idea -of a pleasure. In the first place, plainly, we are not always conscious -of expecting pleasure, when we desire a thing. We may be only conscious -of the thing which we desire, and may be impelled to make for it at -once, without any calculation as to whether it will bring us pleasure -or pain. And, in the second place, even when we do expect pleasure, -it can certainly be very rarely pleasure _only_ which we desire. For -instance, granted that, when I desire my glass of port wine, I have -also an idea of the pleasure I expect from it, plainly that pleasure -cannot be the only object of my desire; the port wine must be included -in my object, else I might be led by my desire to take wormwood instead -of wine. If the desire were directed _solely_ towards the pleasure, -it could not lead me to take the wine; if it is to take a definite -direction, it is absolutely necessary that the idea of the object, from -which the pleasure is expected, should also be present and should -control my activity. The theory then that what is desired is always and -only pleasure must break down: it is impossible to prove that pleasure -alone is good, by that line of argument. But, if we substitute for this -theory, that other, possibly true, theory, that pleasure is always the -cause of desire, then all the plausibility of our ethical doctrine -that pleasure alone is good straightway disappears. For in this case, -pleasure is not what I desire, it is not what I want: it is something -which I already have, before I can want anything. And can any one feel -inclined to maintain, that that which I already have, while I am still -desiring something else, is always and alone the good? - - -=43.= But now let us return to consider another of Mill’s arguments -for his position that ‘happiness is the sole end of human action.’ -Mill admits, as I have said, that pleasure is not the only thing we -actually desire. ‘The desire of virtue,’ he says, ‘is not as universal, -but it is as authentic a fact, as the desire of happiness[13].’ And -again, ‘Money is, in many cases, desired in and for itself[14].’ These -admissions are, of course, in naked and glaring contradiction with -his argument that pleasure is the only thing desirable, because it -is the only thing desired. How then does Mill even attempt to avoid -this contradiction? His chief argument seems to be that ‘virtue,’ -‘money’ and other such objects, when they are thus desired in and -for themselves, are desired only as ‘a part of happiness[15].’ Now -what does this mean? Happiness, as we saw, has been defined by Mill, -as ‘pleasure and the absence of pain.’ Does Mill mean to say that -‘money,’ these actual coins, which he admits to be desired in and -for themselves, are a part either of pleasure or of the absence of -pain? Will he maintain that those coins themselves are in my mind, -and actually a part of my pleasant feelings? If this is to be said, -all words are useless: nothing can possibly be distinguished from -anything else; if these two things are not distinct, what on earth is? -We shall hear next that this table is really and truly the same thing -as this room; that a cab-horse is in fact indistinguishable from St -Paul’s Cathedral; that this book of Mill’s which I hold in my hand, -because it was his pleasure to produce it, is now and at this moment -a part of the happiness which he felt many years ago and which has -so long ceased to be. Pray consider a moment what this contemptible -nonsense really means. ‘Money,’ says Mill, ‘is only desirable as a -means to happiness.’ Perhaps so; but what then? ‘Why,’ says Mill, -‘money is undoubtedly desired for its own sake.’ ‘Yes, go on,’ say we. -‘Well,’ says Mill, ‘if money is desired for its own sake, it must be -desirable as an end-in-itself: I have said so myself.’ ‘Oh,’ say we, -‘but you also said just now that it was only desirable as a means.’ ‘I -own I did,’ says Mill, ‘but I will try to patch up matters, by saying -that what is only a means to an end, is the same thing as a part of -that end. I daresay the public won’t notice.’ And the public haven’t -noticed. Yet this is certainly what Mill has done. He has broken down -the distinction between means and ends, upon the precise observance of -which his Hedonism rests. And he has been compelled to do this, because -he has failed to distinguish ‘end’ in the sense of what is desirable, -from ‘end’ in the sense of what is desired: a distinction which, -nevertheless, both the present argument and his whole book presupposes. -This is a consequence of the naturalistic fallacy. - - [13] p. 53. - - [14] p. 55. - - [15] pp. 56-7. - - -=44.= Mill, then, has nothing better to say for himself than this. His -two fundamental propositions are, in his own words, ‘that to think of -an object as desirable (unless 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 proportion as the idea of it is pleasant, -is a physical and metaphysical impossibility[16].’ Both of these -statements are, we have seen, merely supported by fallacies. The first -seems to rest on the naturalistic fallacy; the second rests partly on -this, partly on the fallacy of confusing ends and means, and partly -on the fallacy of confusing a pleasant thought with the thought of a -pleasure. His very language shews this. For that the idea of a thing is -pleasant, in his second clause, is obviously meant to be the same fact -which he denotes by ‘thinking of it as pleasant,’ in his first. - - [16] p. 58. - -Accordingly, Mill’s arguments for the proposition that pleasure is the -sole good, and our refutation of those arguments, may be summed up as -follows: - -First of all, he takes ‘the desirable,’ which he uses as a synonym -for ‘the good,’ to _mean_ what _can_ be desired. The test, again, of -what can be desired, is, according to him, what actually is desired: -if, therefore, he says, we can find some one thing which is always and -alone desired, that thing will necessarily be the only thing that is -desirable, the only thing that is good as an end. In this argument the -naturalistic fallacy is plainly involved. That fallacy, I explained, -consists in the contention that good _means_ nothing but some simple or -complex notion, that can be defined in terms of natural qualities. In -Mill’s case, good is thus supposed to _mean_ simply what is desired; -and what is desired is something which can thus be defined in natural -terms. Mill tells us that we ought to desire something (an ethical -proposition), because we actually do desire it; but if his contention -that ‘I ought to desire’ means nothing but ‘I do desire’ were true, -then he is only entitled to say, ‘We do desire so and so, because we -do desire it’; and that is not an ethical proposition at all; it is -a mere tautology. The whole object of Mill’s book is to help us to -discover what we ought to do; but, in fact, by attempting to define the -meaning of this ‘ought,’ he has completely debarred himself from ever -fulfilling that object: he has confined himself to telling us what we -do do. - -Mill’s first argument then is that, because good means desired, -therefore the desired is good; but having thus arrived at an ethical -conclusion, by denying that any ethical conclusion is possible, he -still needs another argument to make his conclusion a basis for -Hedonism. He has to prove that we always do desire pleasure or freedom -from pain, and that we never desire anything else whatever. This second -doctrine, which Professor Sidgwick has called Psychological Hedonism, -I accordingly discussed. I pointed out how obviously untrue it is that -we never desire anything but pleasure; and how there is not a shadow -of ground for saying even that, whenever we desire anything, we always -desire pleasure _as well as_ that thing. I attributed the obstinate -belief in these untruths partly to a confusion between the cause of -desire and the object of desire. It may, I said, be true that desire -can never occur unless it be preceded by some _actual_ pleasure; but -even if this is true, it obviously gives no ground for saying that the -object of desire is always some _future_ pleasure. By the object of -desire is meant that, of which the idea causes desire in us; it is some -pleasure, which we anticipate, some pleasure which we have not got, -which is the object of desire, whenever we do desire pleasure. And any -actual pleasure, which may be excited by the idea of this anticipated -pleasure, is obviously not the same pleasure as that anticipated -pleasure, of which only the idea is actual. This actual pleasure is not -what we want; what we want is always something which we have not got; -and to say that pleasure always causes us to want is quite a different -thing from saying that what we want is always pleasure. - -Finally, we saw, Mill admits all this. He insists that we do _actually_ -desire other things than pleasure, and yet he says we do _really_ -desire nothing else. He tries to explain away this contradiction, -by confusing together two notions, which he has before carefully -distinguished--the notions of means and of end. He now says that a -means to an end is the same thing as a part of that end. To this last -fallacy special attention should be given, as our ultimate decision -with regard to Hedonism will largely turn upon it. - - -=45.= It is this ultimate decision with regard to Hedonism at which -we must now try to arrive. So far I have been only occupied with -refuting Mill’s naturalistic arguments for Hedonism; but the doctrine -that pleasure alone is desirable may still be true, although Mill’s -fallacies cannot prove it so. This is the question which we have now -to face. This proposition, ‘pleasure alone is good or desirable,’ -belongs undoubtedly to that class of propositions, to which Mill at -first rightly pretended it belonged, the class of first principles, -which are not amenable to direct proof. But in this case, as he also -rightly says, ‘considerations may be presented capable of determining -the intellect either to give or withhold its assent to the doctrine’ -(p. 7). It is such considerations that Professor Sidgwick presents, -and such also that I shall try to present for the opposite view. This -proposition that ‘pleasure alone is good as an end,’ the fundamental -proposition of Ethical Hedonism, will then appear, in Professor -Sidgwick’s language, as an object of intuition. I shall try to shew you -why my intuition denies it, just as his intuition affirms it. It _may_ -always be true notwithstanding; neither intuition can _prove_ whether -it is true or not; I am bound to be satisfied, if I can ‘present -considerations capable of determining the intellect’ to reject it. - -Now it may be said that this is a very unsatisfactory state of things. -It is indeed; but it is important to make a distinction between two -different reasons, which may be given for calling it unsatisfactory. -Is it unsatisfactory because our principle cannot be proved? or is -it unsatisfactory merely because we do not agree with one another -about it? I am inclined to think that the latter is the chief reason. -For the mere fact that in certain cases proof is impossible does not -usually give us the least uneasiness. For instance, nobody can prove -that this is a chair beside me; yet I do not suppose that any one is -much dissatisfied for that reason. We all agree that it is a chair, -and that is enough to content us, although it is quite possible we may -be wrong. A madman, of course, might come in and say that it is not a -chair but an elephant. We could not prove that he was wrong, and the -fact that he did not agree with us might then begin to make us uneasy. -Much more, then, shall we be uneasy, if some one, whom we do not think -to be mad, disagrees with us. We shall try to argue with him, and we -shall probably be content if we lead him to agree with us, although we -shall not have proved our point. We can only persuade him by shewing -him that our view is consistent with something else which he holds to -be true, whereas his original view is contradictory to it. But it will -be impossible to prove that that something else, which we both agree -to be true, is really so; we shall be satisfied to have settled the -matter in dispute by means of it, merely because we are agreed on it. -In short, our dissatisfaction in these cases is almost always of the -type felt by the poor lunatic in the story. ‘I said the world was -mad,’ says he, ‘and the world said that I was mad; and, confound it, -they outvoted me.’ It is, I say, almost always such a disagreement, and -not the impossibility of proof, which makes us call the state of things -unsatisfactory. For, indeed, who can prove that proof itself is a -warrant of truth? We are all agreed that the laws of logic are true and -therefore we accept a result which is proved by their means; but such -a proof is satisfactory to us only because we are all so fully agreed -that it is a warrant of truth. And yet we cannot, by the nature of the -case, prove that we are right in being so agreed. - -Accordingly, I do not think we need be much distressed by our admission -that we cannot prove whether pleasure alone is good or not. We may be -able to arrive at an agreement notwithstanding; and if so, I think -it will be satisfactory. And yet I am not very sanguine about our -prospects of such satisfaction. Ethics, and philosophy in general, -have always been in a peculiarly unsatisfactory state. There has been -no agreement about them, as there is about the existence of chairs and -lights and benches. I should therefore be a fool if I hoped to settle -one great point of controversy, now and once for all. It is extremely -improbable I shall convince. It would be highly presumptuous even to -hope that in the end, say two or three centuries hence, it will be -agreed that pleasure is not the sole good. Philosophical questions -are so difficult, the problems they raise are so complex, that no one -can fairly expect, now, any more than in the past, to win more than a -very limited assent. And yet I confess that the considerations which -I am about to present appear to me to be absolutely convincing. I do -think that they _ought_ to convince, if only I can put them well. -In any case, I can but try. I _shall_ try now to put an end to that -unsatisfactory state of things, of which I have been speaking. I shall -try to produce an agreement that the fundamental principle of Hedonism -is very like an absurdity, by shewing what it must mean, if it is -clearly thought out, and how that clear meaning is in conflict with -other beliefs, which will, I hope, not be so easily given up. - - -=46.= Well, then, we now proceed to discuss Intuitionistic Hedonism. -And the beginning of this discussion marks, it is to be observed, a -turning-point in my ethical method. The point I have been labouring -hitherto, the point that ‘good is indefinable,’ and that to deny this -involves a fallacy, is a point capable of strict proof: for to deny it -involves contradictions. But now we are coming to the question, for -the sake of answering which Ethics exists, the question what things or -qualities are good. Of any answer to _this_ question no direct proof -is possible, and that, just because of our former answer, as to the -meaning of good, direct proof _was_ possible. We are now confined to -the hope of what Mill calls ‘indirect proof,’ the hope of determining -one another’s intellect; and we are now so confined, just because, in -the matter of the former question we are not so confined. Here, then, -is an intuition to be submitted to our verdict--the intuition that -‘pleasure alone is good as an end--good in and for itself.’ - - -=47.= Well, in this connection it seems first desirable to touch on -another doctrine of Mill’s--another doctrine which, in the interest -of Hedonism, Professor Sidgwick has done very wisely to reject. -This is the doctrine of ‘difference of quality in pleasures.’ ‘If I -am asked,’ says Mill[17], ‘what I mean by difference of quality in -pleasures, or what makes one pleasure more valuable than another, -merely as a pleasure, except its being greater in amount, there is but -one possible answer. Of two pleasures, if there be one to which all -or almost all who have experience of both give a decided preference, -irrespective of any feeling of moral obligation to prefer it, that is -the more desirable pleasure. If one of the two is, by those who are -competently acquainted with both, placed so far above the other that -they prefer it, even though knowing it to be attended with a greater -amount of discontent, and would not resign it for any quantity of the -other pleasure which their nature is capable of, we are justified in -ascribing to the preferred enjoyment a superiority in quality, so far -outweighing quantity as to render it, in comparison, of small account.’ - - [17] p. 12. - -Now it is well known that Bentham rested his case for Hedonism on -‘quantity of pleasure’ alone. It was his maxim, that ‘quantity -of pleasure being equal, pushpin is as good as poetry.’ And Mill -apparently considers Bentham to have proved that nevertheless poetry -is better than pushpin; that poetry does produce a greater quantity of -pleasure. But yet, says Mill, the Utilitarians ‘might have taken the -other and, as it may be called, higher ground, with entire consistency’ -(p. 11). Now we see from this that Mill acknowledges ‘quality of -pleasure’ to be another or different ground for estimating pleasures, -than Bentham’s quantity; and moreover, by that question-begging -‘higher,’ which he afterwards translates into ‘superior,’ he seems to -betray an uncomfortable feeling, that, after all, if you take quantity -of pleasure for your only standard, something may be wrong and you -may deserve to be called a pig. And it may presently appear that you -very likely would deserve that name. But, meanwhile, I only wish to -shew that Mill’s admissions as to quality of pleasure are either -inconsistent with his Hedonism, or else afford no other ground for it -than would be given by mere quantity of pleasure. - -It will be seen that Mill’s test for one pleasure’s superiority -in quality over another is the preference of most people who have -experienced both. A pleasure so preferred, he holds, is more desirable. -But then, as we have seen, he holds that ‘to think of an object as -desirable and to think of it as pleasant are one and the same thing’ -(p. 58). He holds, therefore, that the preference of experts merely -proves that one pleasure is pleasanter than another. But if that is -so, how can he distinguish this standard from the standard of quantity -of pleasure? Can one pleasure be pleasanter than another, except in -the sense that it gives _more_ pleasure? ‘Pleasant’ must, if words are -to have any meaning at all, denote some one quality common to all the -things that are pleasant; and, if so, then one thing can only be more -pleasant than another, according as it has more or less of this one -quality. But, then, let us try the other alternative, and suppose that -Mill does not seriously mean that this preference of experts merely -proves one pleasure to be pleasanter than another. Well, in this case -what does ‘preferred’ mean? It cannot mean ‘more desired,’ since, as -we know, the degree of desire is always, according to Mill, in exact -proportion to the degree of pleasantness. But, in that case, the basis -of Mill’s Hedonism collapses, for he is admitting that one thing may -be preferred over another, and thus proved more desirable, although -it is not more desired. In this case Mill’s judgment of preference is -just a judgment of that intuitional kind which I have been contending -to be necessary to establish the hedonistic or any other principle. It -is a direct judgment that one thing is more desirable, or better than -another; a judgment utterly independent of all considerations as to -whether one thing is more desired or pleasanter than another. This is -to admit that good is good and indefinable. - - -=48.= And note another point that is brought out by this discussion. -Mill’s judgment of preference, so far from establishing the principle -that pleasure alone is good, is obviously inconsistent with it. He -admits that experts can judge whether one pleasure is more desirable -than another, because pleasures differ in quality. But what does this -mean? If one pleasure can differ from another in quality, that means, -that _a_ pleasure is something complex, something composed, in fact, of -pleasure _in addition to_ that which produces pleasure. For instance, -Mill speaks of ‘sensual indulgences’ as ‘lower pleasures.’ But what -is a sensual indulgence? It is surely a certain excitement of some -sense _together with_ the pleasure caused by such excitement. Mill, -therefore, in admitting that a sensual indulgence can be directly -judged to be lower than another pleasure, in which the degree of -pleasure involved may be the same, is admitting that other things may -be good, or bad, quite independently of the pleasure which accompanies -them. _A_ pleasure is, in fact, merely a misleading term which -conceals the fact that what we are dealing with is not pleasure but -something else, which may indeed necessarily produce pleasure, but is -nevertheless quite distinct from it. - -Mill, therefore, in thinking that to estimate quality of pleasure -is quite consistent with his hedonistic principle that pleasure and -absence of pain alone are desirable as ends, has again committed the -fallacy of confusing ends and means. For take even the most favourable -supposition of his meaning; let us suppose that by a pleasure he does -not mean, as his words imply, that which produces pleasure and the -pleasure produced. Let us suppose him to mean that there are various -kinds of pleasure, in the sense in which there are various kinds of -colour--blue, red, green, etc. Even in this case, if we are to say that -our end is colour alone, then, although it is impossible we should -have colour without having some particular colour, yet the particular -colour we must have, is only a _means_ to our having colour, if colour -is really our end. And if colour is our only possible end, as Mill says -pleasure is, then there can be no possible reason for preferring one -colour to another, red, for instance, to blue, except that the one is -more of a colour than the other. Yet the opposite of this is what Mill -is attempting to hold with regard to pleasures. - -Accordingly a consideration of Mill’s view that some pleasures are -superior to others _in quality_ brings out one point which may ‘help -to determine the intellect’ with regard to the intuition ‘Pleasure is -the only good.’ For it brings out the fact that if you say ‘pleasure,’ -you must mean ‘pleasure’: you must mean some one thing common to all -different ‘pleasures,’ some one thing, which may exist in different -degrees, but which cannot differ in _kind_. I have pointed out that, -if you say, as Mill does, that quality of pleasure is to be taken -into account, then you are no longer holding that pleasure _alone_ is -good as an end, since you imply that something else, something which -is _not_ present in all pleasures, is _also_ good as an end. The -illustration I have given from colour expresses this point in its most -acute form. It is plain that if you say ‘Colour alone is good as an -end,’ then you can give no possible reason for preferring one colour -to another. Your only standard of good and bad will then be ‘colour’; -and since red and blue both conform equally to this, the only standard, -you can have no other whereby to judge whether red is better than blue. -It is true that you cannot have colour unless you also have one or -all of the particular colours: they, therefore, if colour is the end, -will all be good as means, but none of them can be better than another -even as a means, far less can any one of them be regarded as an end in -itself. Just so with pleasure: If we do really mean ‘Pleasure alone -is good as an end,’ then we must agree with Bentham that ‘Quantity -of pleasure being equal, pushpin is as good as poetry.’ To have thus -dismissed Mill’s reference to quality of pleasure, is therefore to have -made one step in the desired direction. The reader will now no longer -be prevented from agreeing with me, by any idea that the hedonistic -principle ‘Pleasure alone is good as an end’ is consistent with the -view that one pleasure may be of a better quality than another. These -two views, we have seen, are contradictory to one another. We must -choose between them: and if we choose the latter, then we must give up -the principle of Hedonism. - - -=49.= But, as I said, Professor Sidgwick has seen that they are -inconsistent. He has seen that he must choose between them. He has -chosen. He has rejected the test by quality of pleasure, and has -accepted the hedonistic principle. He still maintains that ‘Pleasure -alone is good as an end.’ I propose therefore to discuss the -considerations which he has offered in order to convince us. I shall -hope by that discussion to remove some more of such prejudices and -misunderstandings as might prevent agreement with me. If I can shew -that some of the considerations which Professor Sidgwick urges are such -as we need by no means agree with, and that others are actually rather -in my favour than in his, we may have again advanced a few steps nearer -to the unanimity which we desire. - - -=50.= The passages in the _Methods of Ethics_ to which I shall now -invite attention are to be found in I. IX. 4 and in III. XIV. 4-5. - -The first of these two passages runs as follows: - -“I think that if we consider carefully such permanent results as are -commonly judged to be good, other than qualities of human beings, we -can find nothing that, on reflection, appears to possess this quality -of goodness out of relation to human existence, or at least to some -consciousness or feeling. - -“For example, we commonly judge some inanimate objects, scenes, etc. to -be good as possessing beauty, and others bad from ugliness: still no -one would consider it rational to aim at the production of beauty in -external nature, apart from any possible contemplation of it by human -beings. In fact when beauty is maintained to be objective, it is not -commonly meant that it exists as beauty out of relation to any mind -whatsoever: but only that there is some standard of beauty valid for -all minds. - -“It may, however, be said that beauty and other results commonly judged -to be good, though we do not conceive them to exist out of relation to -human beings (or at least minds of some kind), are yet so far separable -as ends from the human beings on whom their existence depends, that -their realization may conceivably come into competition with the -perfection or happiness of these beings. Thus, though beautiful -things cannot be thought worth producing except as possible objects -of contemplation, still a man may devote himself to their production -without any consideration of the persons who are to contemplate them. -Similarly knowledge is a good which cannot exist except in minds; and -yet one may be more interested in the development of knowledge than in -its possession by any particular minds; and may take the former as an -ultimate end without regarding the latter. - -“Still, as soon as the alternatives are clearly apprehended, it will, I -think, be generally held that beauty, knowledge, and other ideal goods, -as well as all external material things, are only reasonably to be -sought by men in so far as they conduce (1) to Happiness or (2) to the -Perfection or Excellence of human existence. I say ‘human,’ for though -most utilitarians consider the pleasure (and freedom from pain) of the -inferior animals to be included in the Happiness which they take as the -right and proper end of conduct, no one seems to contend that we ought -to aim at perfecting brutes except as a means to our ends, or at least -as objects of scientific or æsthetic contemplation for us. Nor, again, -can we include, as a practical end, the existence of beings above the -human. We certainly apply the idea of Good to the Divine Existence, -just as we do to His work, and indeed in a preeminent manner: and -when it is said that, ‘we should do all things to the glory of God,’ -it may seem to be implied that the existence of God is made better by -our glorifying Him. Still this inference when explicitly drawn appears -somewhat impious; and theologians generally recoil from it, and -refrain from using the notion of a possible addition to the Goodness of -the Divine Existence as a ground of human duty. Nor can the influence -of our actions on other extra-human intelligences besides the Divine be -at present made matter of scientific discussion. - -“I shall therefore confidently lay down, that if there be any Good -other than Happiness to be sought by man, as an ultimate practical -end, it can only be the Goodness, Perfection, or Excellence of Human -Existence. How far this notion includes more than Virtue, what its -precise relation to Pleasure is, and to what method we shall be -logically led if we accept it as fundamental, are questions which we -shall more conveniently discuss after the detailed examination of these -two other notions, Pleasure and Virtue, in which we shall be engaged in -the two following Books.” - -It will be observed that in this passage Prof. Sidgwick tries to limit -the range of objects among which the ultimate end may be found. He does -not yet say what that end is, but he does exclude from it everything -but certain characters of Human Existence. And the possible ends, which -he thus excludes, do not again come up for consideration. They are put -out of court once for all by this passage and by this passage only. Now -is this exclusion justified? - -I cannot think it is. ‘No one,’ says Prof. Sidgwick, ‘would consider -it rational to aim at the production of beauty in external nature, -apart from any possible contemplation of it by human beings.’ Well, I -may say at once, that I, for one, do consider this rational; and let -us see if I cannot get any one to agree with me. Consider what this -admission really means. It entitles us to put the following case. Let -us imagine one world exceedingly beautiful. Imagine it as beautiful as -you can; put into it whatever on this earth you most admire--mountains, -rivers, the sea; trees, and sunsets, stars and moon. Imagine these all -combined in the most exquisite proportions, so that no one thing jars -against another, but each contributes to increase the beauty of the -whole. And then imagine the ugliest world you can possibly conceive. -Imagine it simply one heap of filth, containing everything that is -most disgusting to us, for whatever reason, and the whole, as far -as may be, without one redeeming feature. Such a pair of worlds we -are entitled to compare: they fall within Prof. Sidgwick’s meaning, -and the comparison is highly relevant to it. The only thing we are -not entitled to imagine is that any human being ever has or ever, by -any possibility, _can_, live in either, can ever see and enjoy the -beauty of the one or hate the foulness of the other. Well, even so, -supposing them quite apart from any possible contemplation by human -beings; still, is it irrational to hold that it is better that the -beautiful world should exist, than the one which is ugly? Would it not -be well, in any case, to do what we could to produce it rather than -the other? Certainly I cannot help thinking that it would; and I hope -that some may agree with me in this extreme instance. The instance is -extreme. It is highly improbable, not to say, impossible, we should -ever have such a choice before us. In any actual choice we should have -to consider the possible effects of our action upon conscious beings, -and among these possible effects there are always some, I think, which -ought to be preferred to the existence of mere beauty. But this only -means that in our present state, in which but a very small portion of -the good is attainable, the pursuit of beauty for its own sake must -always be postponed to the pursuit of some greater good, which is -equally attainable. But it is enough for my purpose, if it be admitted -that, _supposing_ no greater good were at all attainable, then beauty -must in itself be regarded as a greater good than ugliness; if it be -admitted that, in that case, we should not be left without any reason -for preferring one course of action to another, we should not be left -without any duty whatever, but that it would then be our positive duty -to make the world more beautiful, so far as we were able, since nothing -better than beauty could then result from our efforts. If this be once -admitted, if in any imaginable case you do admit that the existence -of a more beautiful thing is better in itself than that of one more -ugly, quite apart from its effects on any human feeling, then Prof. -Sidgwick’s principle has broken down. Then we shall have to include -in our ultimate end something beyond the limits of human existence. I -admit, of course, that our beautiful world would be better still, if -there were human beings in it to contemplate and enjoy its beauty. But -that admission makes nothing against my point. If it be once admitted -that the beautiful world _in itself_ is better than the ugly, then it -follows, that however many beings may enjoy it, and however much better -their enjoyment may be than it is itself, yet its mere existence adds -_something_ to the goodness of the whole: it is not only a means to our -end, but also itself a part thereof. - - -=51.= In the second passage to which I referred above, Prof. Sidgwick -returns from the discussion of Virtue and Pleasure, with which he has -meanwhile been engaged, to consider what among the parts of Human -Existence to which, as we saw, he has limited the ultimate end, can -really be considered as such end. What I have just said, of course, -appears to me to destroy the force of this part of his argument too. -If, as I think, other things than any part of Human Existence can be -ends-in-themselves, then Prof. Sidgwick cannot claim to have discovered -the Summum Bonum, when he has merely determined what parts of Human -Existence are in themselves desirable. But this error may be admitted -to be utterly insignificant in comparison with that which we are now -about to discuss. - -“It may be said,” says Prof. Sidgwick (III. XIV. §§ 4-5), “that we -may ... regard cognition of Truth, contemplation of Beauty, Free or -Virtuous action, as in some measure preferable alternatives to Pleasure -or Happiness--even though we admit that Happiness must be included as -a part of Ultimate Good.... I think, however, that this view ought not -to commend itself to the sober judgment of reflective persons. In order -to shew this, I must ask the reader to use the same twofold procedure -that I before requested him to employ in considering the absolute and -independent validity of common moral precepts. I appeal firstly to -his intuitive judgment after due consideration of the question when -fairly placed before it: and secondly to a comprehensive comparison -of the ordinary judgments of mankind. As regards the first argument, -to me at least it seems clear after reflection that these objective -relations of the conscious subject, when distinguished from the -consciousness accompanying and resulting from them, are not ultimately -and intrinsically desirable; any more than material or other objects -are, when considered apart from any relation to conscious existence. -Admitting that we have actual experience of such preferences as have -just been described, of which the ultimate object is something that -is not merely consciousness: it still seems to me that when (to use -Butler’s phrase) we ‘sit down in a cool hour,’ we can only justify to -ourselves the importance that we attach to any of these objects by -considering its conduciveness, in one way or another, to the happiness -of sentient beings. - -“The second argument, that refers to the common sense of mankind, -obviously cannot be made completely cogent; since, as above stated, -several cultivated persons do habitually judge that knowledge, art, -etc.,--not to speak of Virtue--are ends independently of the pleasure -derived from them. But we may urge not only that all these elements -of ‘ideal good’ are productive of pleasure in various ways; but also -that they seem to obtain the commendation of Common Sense, roughly -speaking, in proportion to the degree of this productiveness. This -seems obviously true of Beauty; and will hardly be denied in respect -of any kind of social ideal: it is paradoxical to maintain that any -degree of Freedom, or any form of social order, would still be commonly -regarded as desirable even if we were certain that it had no tendency -to promote the general happiness. The case of Knowledge is rather more -complex; but certainly Common Sense is most impressed with the value -of knowledge, when its ‘fruitfulness’ has been demonstrated. It is, -however, aware that experience has frequently shewn how knowledge, long -fruitless, may become unexpectedly fruitful, and how light may be shed -on one part of the field of knowledge from another apparently remote: -and even if any particular branch of scientific pursuit could be shewn -to be devoid of even this indirect utility, it would still deserve some -respect on utilitarian grounds; both as furnishing to the inquirer -the refined and innocent pleasures of curiosity, and because the -intellectual disposition which it exhibits and sustains is likely on -the whole to produce fruitful knowledge. Still in cases approximating -to this last, Common Sense is somewhat disposed to complain of the -mis-direction of valuable effort; so that the meed of honour commonly -paid to Science seems to be graduated, though perhaps unconsciously, -by a tolerably exact utilitarian scale. Certainly the moment the -legitimacy of any branch of scientific inquiry is seriously disputed, -as in the recent case of vivisection, the controversy on both sides is -generally conducted on an avowedly utilitarian basis. - -“The case of Virtue requires special consideration: since the -encouragement in each other of virtuous impulses and dispositions is a -main aim of men’s ordinary moral discourse; so that even to raise the -question whether this encouragement can go too far has a paradoxical -air. Still, our experience includes rare and exceptional cases in which -the concentration of effort on the cultivation of virtue has seemed to -have effects adverse to general happiness, through being intensified -to the point of moral fanaticism, and so involving a neglect of other -conditions of happiness. If, then, we admit as actual or possible -such ‘infelicific’ effects of the cultivation of Virtue, I think we -shall also generally admit that, in the case supposed, conduciveness -to general happiness should be the criterion for deciding how far the -cultivation of Virtue should be carried.” - -There we have Prof. Sidgwick’s argument completed. We ought not, he -thinks, to aim at knowing the Truth, or at contemplating Beauty, -except in so far as such knowledge or such contemplation contributes -to increase the pleasure or to diminish the pain of sentient beings. -Pleasure alone is good for its own sake: knowledge of the Truth is good -only as a means to pleasure. - - -=52.= Let us consider what this means. What is pleasure? It is -certainly something of which we may be conscious, and which, therefore, -may be distinguished from our consciousness of it. What I wish first to -ask is this: Can it really be said that we value pleasure, except in -so far as we are conscious of it? Should we think that the attainment -of pleasure, of which we never were and never could be conscious, was -something to be aimed at for its own sake? It may be impossible that -such pleasure should ever exist, that it should ever be thus divorced -from consciousness; although there is certainly much reason to believe -that it is not only possible but very common. But, even supposing -that it were impossible, that is quite irrelevant. Our question is: -Is it the pleasure, as distinct from the consciousness of it, that we -set value on? Do we think the pleasure valuable in itself, or must -we insist that, if we are to think the pleasure good, we must have -consciousness of it too? - -This consideration is very well put by Socrates in Plato’s dialogue -_Philebus_ (21 A). - -‘Would _you_ accept, Protarchus,’ says Socrates, ‘to live your whole -life in the enjoyment of the greatest pleasures?’ ‘Of course I would,’ -says Protarchus. - -_Socrates._ Then would you think you needed anything else besides, if -you possessed this one blessing in completeness? - -_Protarchus._ Certainly not. - -_Socrates._ Consider what you are saying. You would not need to be wise -and intelligent and reasonable, nor anything like this? Would you not -even care to keep your sight? - -_Protarchus._ Why should I? I suppose I should have all I want, if I -was pleased. - -_Socrates._ Well, then, supposing you lived so, you would enjoy always -throughout your life the greatest pleasure? - -_Protarchus._ Of course. - -_Socrates._ But, on the other hand, inasmuch as you would _not_ possess -intelligence and memory and knowledge and true opinion, you would, in -the first place, necessarily be without the knowledge whether you were -pleased or not. For you would be devoid of any kind of wisdom. You -admit this? - -_Protarchus._ I do. The consequence is absolutely necessary. - -_Socrates._ Well, then, besides this, not having memory, you must -also be unable to remember even that you ever were pleased; of the -pleasure which falls upon you at the moment not the least vestige must -afterwards remain. And again, not having true opinion, you cannot think -that you are pleased when you are; and, being bereft of your reasoning -faculties, you cannot even have the power to reckon that you will be -pleased in future. You must live the life of an oyster, or of some -other of those living creatures, whose home is the seas and whose -souls are concealed in shelly bodies. Is all this so, or can we think -otherwise than this? - -_Protarchus._ How can we? - -_Socrates._ Well, then, can we think such a life desirable? - -_Protarchus._ Socrates, your reasoning has left me utterly dumb.’ - -Socrates, we see, persuades Protarchus that Hedonism is absurd. If -we are really going to maintain that pleasure alone is good as an -end, we must maintain that it is good, whether we are conscious of -it or not. We must declare it reasonable to take as our ideal (an -unattainable ideal it may be) that we should be as happy as possible, -even on condition that we never know and never can know that we are -happy. We must be willing to sell in exchange for the mere happiness -every vestige of knowledge, both in ourselves and in others, both -of happiness itself and of every other thing. Can we really still -disagree? Can any one still declare it obvious that this is reasonable? -That pleasure alone is good as an end? - -The case, it is plain, is just like that of the colours[18], only, -as yet, not nearly so strong. It is far more possible that we should -some day be able to produce the intensest pleasure, without any -consciousness that it is there, than that we should be able to produce -mere colour, without its being any particular colour. Pleasure and -consciousness can be far more easily distinguished from one another, -than colour from the particular colours. And yet even if this were -not so, we should be bound to distinguish them if we really wished to -declare pleasure alone to be our ultimate end. Even if consciousness -were an inseparable accompaniment of pleasure, a _sine quâ non_ of -its existence, yet, if pleasure is the only end, we are bound to call -consciousness a mere _means_ to it, in any intelligible sense that can -be given to the word _means_. And if, on the other hand, as I hope is -now plain, the pleasure would be comparatively valueless without the -consciousness, then we are bound to say that pleasure is _not_ the only -end, that some consciousness at least must be included with it as a -veritable part of the end. - - [18] § 48 _sup._ - -For our question now is solely what the end is: it is quite another -question how far that end may be attainable _by itself_, or must -involve the simultaneous attainment of other things. It may well be -that the _practical_ conclusions at which Utilitarians do arrive, -and even those at which they ought logically to arrive, are not far -from the truth. But in so far as their _reason_ for holding these -conclusions to be true is that ‘Pleasure alone is good as an end,’ they -are _absolutely_ wrong: and it is with _reasons_ that we are chiefly -concerned in any scientific Ethics. - - -=53.= It seems, then, clear that Hedonism is in error, so far as it -maintains that pleasure alone, and not the consciousness of pleasure, -is the sole good. And this error seems largely due to the fallacy which -I pointed out above in Mill--the fallacy of confusing means and end. -It is falsely supposed that, since pleasure must always be accompanied -by consciousness (which is, itself, extremely doubtful), therefore -it is indifferent whether we say that pleasure or the consciousness -of pleasure is the sole good. _Practically_, of course, it would be -indifferent at which we aimed, if it were certain that we could not -get the one without the other; but where the question is of what is -good in itself--where we ask: For the sake of what is it desirable to -get that which we aim at?--the distinction is by no means unimportant. -Here we are placed before an exclusive alternative. _Either_ pleasure -by itself (even though we can’t get it) would be all that is desirable, -_or_ a consciousness of it would be more desirable still. Both these -propositions cannot be true; and I think it is plain that the latter is -true; whence it follows that pleasure is _not_ the sole good. - -Still it may be said that, even if consciousness of pleasure, and -not pleasure alone, is the sole good, this conclusion is not very -damaging to Hedonism. It may be said that Hedonists have always meant -by pleasure the consciousness of pleasure, though they have not been at -pains to say so; and this, I think is, in the main, true. To correct -their formula in this respect could, therefore, only be a matter of -practical importance, if it is possible to produce pleasure without -producing consciousness of it. But even this importance, which I think -our conclusion so far really has, is, I admit, comparatively slight. -What I wish to maintain is that even consciousness of pleasure is -not the sole good: that, indeed, it is absurd so to regard it. And -the chief importance of what has been said so far lies in the fact -that the same method, which shews that consciousness of pleasure is -more valuable than pleasure, seems also to shew that consciousness of -pleasure is itself far less valuable than other things. The supposition -that consciousness of pleasure is the sole good is due to a neglect of -the same distinctions which have encouraged the careless assertion that -pleasure is the sole good. - -The method which I employed in order to shew that pleasure itself -was not the sole good, was that of considering what value we should -attach to it, if it existed in absolute isolation, stripped of all its -usual accompaniments. And this is, in fact, the only method that can -be safely used, when we wish to discover what degree of value a thing -has in itself. The necessity of employing this method will be best -exhibited by a discussion of the arguments used by Prof. Sidgwick in -the passage last quoted, and by an exposure of the manner in which they -are calculated to mislead. - - -=54.= With regard to the second of them, it only maintains that other -things, which might be supposed to share with pleasure the attribute -of goodness, ‘seem to obtain the commendation of Common Sense, roughly -speaking, in proportion to the degree’ of their productiveness of -pleasure. Whether even this rough proportion holds between the -commendation of Common Sense and the felicific effects of that which it -commends is a question extremely difficult to determine; and we need -not enter into it here. For, even assuming it to be true, and assuming -the judgments of Common Sense to be on the whole correct, what would it -shew? It would shew, certainly, that pleasure was a good _criterion_ -of right action--that the same conduct which produced most pleasure -would also produce most good on the whole. But this would by no means -entitle us to the conclusion that the greatest pleasure _constituted_ -what was best on the whole: it would still leave open the alternative -that the greatest quantity of pleasure was as a matter of fact, _under -actual conditions_, generally accompanied by the greatest quantity -of _other goods_, and that it therefore was _not_ the sole good. It -might indeed seem to be a strange coincidence that these two things -should always, even in this world, be in proportion to one another. -But the strangeness of this coincidence will certainly not entitle us -to argue directly that it does not exist--that it is an illusion, due -to the fact that pleasure is really the sole good. The coincidence may -be susceptible of other explanations; and it would even be our duty -to accept it unexplained, if direct intuition seemed to declare that -pleasure was not the sole good. Moreover it must be remembered that -the need for assuming such a coincidence rests in any case upon the -extremely doubtful proposition that felicific effects _are_ roughly in -proportion to the approval of Common Sense. And it should be observed -that, though Prof. Sidgwick maintains this to be the case, his detailed -illustrations only tend to shew the very different proposition that a -thing is not held to be good, unless it gives a balance of pleasure; -not that the degree of commendation is in proportion to the quantity of -pleasure. - - -=55.= The decision, then, must rest upon Prof. Sidgwick’s first -argument--‘the appeal’ to our ‘intuitive judgment after due -consideration of the question when fairly placed before it.’ And here -it seems to me plain that Prof. Sidgwick has failed, in two essential -respects, to place the question fairly before either himself or his -reader. - -(1) What he has to shew is, as he says himself, not merely that -‘Happiness must be included as a part of Ultimate Good.’ This view, -he says, ‘ought not to commend itself to the sober judgment of -reflective persons.’ And why? Because ‘these objective relations, -when distinguished from the consciousness accompanying and resulting -from them, are not ultimately and intrinsically desirable.’ Now, this -reason, which is offered as shewing that to consider Happiness as -a mere part of Ultimate Good does not meet the facts of intuition, -is, on the contrary, only sufficient to shew that it _is_ a part of -Ultimate Good. For from the fact that no value resides in one part -of a whole, considered by itself, we cannot infer that all the value -belonging to the whole does reside in the other part, considered by -itself. Even if we admit that there is much value in the enjoyment of -Beauty, and none in the mere contemplation of it, which is one of the -constituents of that complex fact, it does not follow that all the -value belongs to the other constituent, namely, the pleasure which we -take in contemplating it. It is quite possible that this constituent -also has no value in itself; that the value belongs to the whole state, -and to that only: so that _both_ the pleasure _and_ the contemplation -are mere parts of the good, and both of them equally necessary parts. -In short, Prof. Sidgwick’s argument here depends upon the neglect of -that principle, which I tried to explain in my first chapter and which -I said I should call the principle of ‘organic relations[19].’ The -argument is calculated to mislead, because it supposes that, if we see -a whole state to be valuable, and also see that one element of that -state has no value _by itself_, then the other element, _by itself_, -must have all the value which belongs to the whole state. The fact -is, on the contrary, that, since the whole may be organic, the other -element need have no value whatever, and that even if it have some, the -value of the whole may be very much greater. For this reason, as well -as to avoid confusion between means and end, it is absolutely essential -to consider each distinguishable quality, _in isolation_, in order to -decide what value it possesses. Prof. Sidgwick, on the other hand, -applies this method of isolation only to _one_ element in the wholes -he is considering. He does not ask the question: If consciousness -of pleasure existed absolutely by itself, would a sober judgment be -able to attribute much value to it? It is, in fact, always misleading -to take a whole, that is valuable (or the reverse), and then to ask -simply: To which of its constituents does this whole owe its value or -its vileness? It may well be that it owes it to _none_; and, if one of -them does appear to have some value in itself, we shall be led into the -grave error of supposing that all the value of the whole belongs to it -alone. It seems to me that this error has commonly been committed with -regard to pleasure. Pleasure does seem to be a necessary constituent -of most valuable wholes; and, since the other constituents, into which -we may analyse them, may easily seem not to have any value, it is -natural to suppose that all the value belongs to pleasure. That this -natural supposition does not follow from the premises is certain; and -that it is, on the contrary, ridiculously far from the truth appears -evident to my ‘reflective judgment.’ If we apply either to pleasure or -to consciousness of pleasure the only safe method, that of isolation, -and ask ourselves: Could we accept, as a very good thing, that mere -consciousness of pleasure, and absolutely nothing else, should exist, -even in the greatest quantities? I think we can have no doubt about -answering: No. Far less can we accept this as the _sole_ good. Even -if we accept Prof. Sidgwick’s implication (which yet appears to me -extremely doubtful) that consciousness of pleasure has a greater -value by itself than Contemplation of Beauty, it seems to me that a -pleasurable Contemplation of Beauty has certainly an immeasurably -greater value than mere Consciousness of Pleasure. In favour of this -conclusion I can appeal with confidence to the ‘sober judgment of -reflective persons.’ - - [19] pp. 27-30, 36. - - -=56.= (2) That the value of a pleasurable whole does not belong solely -to the pleasure which it contains, may, I think, be made still plainer -by consideration of another point in which Prof. Sidgwick’s argument -is defective. Prof. Sidgwick maintains, as we saw, the doubtful -proposition, that the _conduciveness_ to pleasure of a thing is in -rough proportion to its commendation by Common Sense. But he does -not maintain, what would be undoubtedly false, that the pleasantness -of every state is in proportion to the commendation of that state. -In other words, it is only when you take into account _the whole -consequences of any state_, that he is able to maintain the coincidence -of quantity of pleasure with the objects approved by Common Sense. -If we consider each state by itself, and ask what is the judgment of -Common Sense as to its goodness _as an end_, quite apart from its -goodness as a means, there can be no doubt that Common Sense holds many -much less pleasant states to be better than many far more pleasant: -that it holds, with Mill, that there are higher pleasures, which are -more valuable, though less pleasant, than those which are lower. Prof. -Sidgwick might, of course, maintain that in this Common Sense is merely -confusing means and ends: that what it holds to be better as an end, -is in reality only better as a means. But I think his argument is -defective in that he does not seem to see sufficiently plainly that, -as far as intuitions of goodness _as an end_ are concerned, he is -running grossly counter to Common Sense; that he does not emphasise -sufficiently the distinction between _immediate_ pleasantness and -_conduciveness_ to pleasure. In order to place fairly before us -the question what is good as an end we must take states that are -immediately pleasant and ask if the more pleasant are always also the -better; and whether, if some that are less pleasant appear to be so, it -is only because we think they are likely to increase the number of the -more pleasant. That Common Sense would deny both these suppositions, -and rightly so, appears to me indubitable. It is commonly held that -certain of what would be called the lowest forms of sexual enjoyment, -for instance, are positively bad, although it is by no means clear that -they are not the most pleasant states we ever experience. Common Sense -would certainly not think it a sufficient justification for the pursuit -of what Prof. Sidgwick calls the ‘refined pleasures’ here and now, that -they are the best means to the future attainment of a heaven, in which -there would be no more refined pleasures--no contemplation of beauty, -no personal affections--but in which the greatest possible pleasure -would be obtained by a perpetual indulgence in bestiality. Yet Prof. -Sidgwick would be bound to hold that, if the greatest possible pleasure -could be obtained in this way, and if it were attainable, such a state -of things would be a heaven indeed, and that all human endeavours -should be devoted to its realisation. I venture to think that this view -is as false as it is paradoxical. - - -=57.= It seems to me, then, that if we place fairly before us the -question: Is consciousness of pleasure the sole good? the answer must -be: No. And with this the last defence of Hedonism has been broken -down. In order to put the question fairly we must isolate consciousness -of pleasure. We must ask: Suppose we were conscious of pleasure only, -and of nothing else, not even that we _were_ conscious, would that -state of things, however great the quantity, be very desirable? No one, -I think, can suppose it so. On the other hand, it seems quite plain, -that we do regard as very desirable, many complicated states of mind -in which the consciousness of pleasure is combined with consciousness -of other things--states which we call ‘enjoyment of’ so and so. If -this is correct, then it follows that consciousness of pleasure is not -the sole good, and that many other states, in which it is included -as a part, are much better than it. Once we recognise the principle -of organic unities, any objection to this conclusion, founded on the -supposed fact that the other elements of such states have no value in -themselves, must disappear. And I do not know that I need say any more -in refutation of Hedonism. - - -=58.= It only remains to say something of the two forms in which a -hedonistic doctrine is commonly held--Egoism and Utilitarianism. - -Egoism, as a form of Hedonism, is the doctrine which holds that we -ought each of us to pursue our own greatest happiness as our ultimate -end. The doctrine will, of course, admit that sometimes the best means -to this end will be to give pleasure to others; we shall, for instance, -by so doing, procure for ourselves the pleasures of sympathy, of -freedom from interference, and of self-esteem; and these pleasures, -which we may procure by sometimes aiming directly at the happiness of -other persons, may be greater than any we could otherwise get. Egoism -in this sense must therefore be carefully distinguished from Egoism -in another sense, the sense in which Altruism is its proper opposite. -Egoism, as commonly opposed to Altruism, is apt to denote merely -selfishness. In this sense, a man is an egoist, if all his actions -are actually directed towards gaining pleasure for himself; whether -he holds that he ought to act so, because he will thereby obtain for -himself the greatest possible happiness on the whole, or not. Egoism -may accordingly be used to denote the theory that we should always aim -at getting pleasure for ourselves, because that is the best _means_ -to the ultimate end, whether the ultimate end be our own greatest -pleasure or not. Altruism, on the other hand, may denote the theory -that we ought always to aim at other people’s happiness, on the ground -that this is the best _means_ of securing our own as well as theirs. -Accordingly an Egoist, in the sense in which I am now going to talk of -Egoism, an Egoist, who holds that his own greatest happiness is the -ultimate end, may at the same time be an Altruist: he may hold that -he ought to ‘love his neighbour,’ as the best means to being happy -himself. And conversely an Egoist, in the other sense, may at the same -time be a Utilitarian. He may hold that he ought always to direct his -efforts towards getting pleasure for himself on the ground that he is -thereby most likely to increase the general sum of happiness. - - -=59.= I shall say more later about this second kind of Egoism, this -anti-altruistic Egoism, this Egoism as a doctrine of means. What I am -now concerned with is that utterly distinct kind of Egoism, which holds -that each man ought rationally to hold: My own greatest happiness is -the only good thing there is; my actions can only be good as means, in -so far as they help to win me this. This is a doctrine which is not -much held by writers now-a-days. It is a doctrine that was largely -held by English Hedonists in the 17th and 18th centuries: it is, for -example, at the bottom of Hobbes’ Ethics. But even the English school -appear to have made one step forward in the present century: they are -most of them now-a-days Utilitarians. They do recognise that if my own -happiness is good, it would be strange that other people’s happiness -should not be good too. - -In order fully to expose the absurdity of this kind of Egoism, it is -necessary to examine certain confusions upon which its plausibility -depends. - -The chief of these is the confusion involved in the conception of -‘my own good’ as distinguished from ‘the good of others.’ This is a -conception which we all use every day; it is one of the first to which -the plain man is apt to appeal in discussing any question of Ethics: -and Egoism is commonly advocated chiefly because its meaning is not -clearly perceived. It is plain, indeed, that the name ‘Egoism’ more -properly applies to the theory that ‘my own good’ is the sole good, -than that my own pleasure is so. A man may quite well be an Egoist, -even if he be not a Hedonist. The conception which is, perhaps, most -closely associated with Egoism is that denoted by the words ‘my own -interest.’ The Egoist is the man who holds that a tendency to promote -his own interest is the sole possible, and sufficient, justification -of all his actions. But this conception of ‘my own interest’ plainly -includes, in general, very much more than my own pleasure. It is, -indeed, only because and in so far as ‘my own interest’ has been -thought to consist solely in my own pleasure, that Egoists have been -led to hold that my own pleasure is the sole good. Their course of -reasoning is as follows: The only thing I ought to secure is my -own interest; but my own interest consists in my greatest possible -pleasure; and therefore the only thing I ought to pursue is my own -pleasure. That it is very natural, _on reflection_, thus to identify -my own pleasure with my own interest; and that it has been generally -done by modern _moralists_, may be admitted. But, when Prof. Sidgwick -points this out (III. XIV. § 5, Div. III.), he should have also pointed -out that this identification has by no means been made in ordinary -thought. When the plain man says ‘my own interest,’ he does _not_ mean -‘my own pleasure’--he does not commonly even include this--he means -my own advancement, my own reputation, the getting of a better income -etc., etc. That Prof. Sidgwick should not have noticed this, and that -he should give the reason he gives for the fact that the ancient -_moralists_ did not identify ‘my own interest’ with my own pleasure, -seems to be due to his having failed to notice that very confusion -in the conception of ‘my own good’ which I am now to point out. That -confusion has, perhaps, been more clearly perceived by Plato than -by any other moralist, and to point it out suffices to refute Prof. -Sidgwick’s own view that Egoism is rational. - -What, then, is meant by ‘my own good’? In what sense can a thing be -good _for me_? It is obvious, if we reflect, that the only thing which -can belong to me, which can be _mine_, is something which is good, and -not the fact that it is good. When, therefore, I talk of anything I get -as ‘my own good,’ I must mean either that the thing I get is good, or -that my possessing it is good. In both cases it is only the thing or -the possession of it which is _mine_, and not _the goodness_ of that -thing or that possession. There is no longer any meaning in attaching -the ‘my’ to our predicate, and saying: The possession of this _by me_ -is _my_ good. Even if we interpret this by ‘My possession of this is -what _I_ think good,’ the same still holds: for _what_ I think is that -my possession of it is good _simply_; and, if I think rightly, then -the truth is that my possession of it _is_ good simply--not, in any -sense, _my_ good; and, if I think wrongly, it is not good at all. In -short, when I talk of a thing as ‘my own good’ all that I can mean -is that something which will be exclusively mine, as my own pleasure -is mine (whatever be the various senses of this relation denoted by -‘possession’), is also _good absolutely_; or rather that my possession -of it is _good absolutely_. The _good_ of it can in no possible sense -be ‘private’ or belong to me; any more than a thing can _exist_ -privately or _for_ one person only. The only reason I can have for -aiming at ‘my own good,’ is that it is _good absolutely_ that what I -so call should belong to me--_good absolutely_ that I should _have_ -something, which, if I have it, others cannot have. But if it is _good -absolutely_ that I should have it, then everyone else has as much -reason for aiming at _my_ having it, as I have myself. If, therefore, -it is true of _any_ single man’s ‘interest’ or ‘happiness’ that it -ought to be his sole ultimate end, this can only mean that _that_ man’s -‘interest’ or ‘happiness’ is _the sole good, the_ Universal Good, -and the only thing that anybody ought to aim at. What Egoism holds, -therefore, is that _each_ man’s happiness is the sole good--that a -number of different things are _each_ of them the only good thing there -is--an absolute contradiction! No more complete and thorough refutation -of any theory could be desired. - - -=60.= Yet Prof. Sidgwick holds that Egoism is rational; and it will be -useful briefly to consider the reasons which he gives for this absurd -conclusion. ‘The Egoist,’ he says (last Chap. § 1), ‘may avoid the -proof of Utilitarianism by declining to affirm,’ either ‘implicitly or -explicitly, that his own greatest happiness is not merely the ultimate -rational end for himself, but a part of Universal Good.’ And in the -passage to which he here refers us, as having there ‘seen’ this, -he says: ‘It cannot be proved that the difference between his own -happiness and another’s happiness is not _for him_ all-important’ (IV. -ii. § 1). What does Prof. Sidgwick mean by these phrases ‘the ultimate -rational end for himself,’ and ‘_for him_ all-important’? He does not -attempt to define them; and it is largely the use of such undefined -phrases which causes absurdities to be committed in philosophy. - -Is there any sense in which a thing can be an ultimate rational end for -one person and not for another? By ‘ultimate’ must be meant at least -that the end is good-in-itself--good in our undefinable sense; and -by ‘rational,’ at least, that it is truly good. That a thing should -be an ultimate rational end means, then, that it is truly good in -itself; and that it is truly good in itself means that it is a part of -Universal Good. Can we assign any meaning to that qualification ‘for -himself,’ which will make it cease to be a part of Universal Good? -The thing is impossible: for the Egoist’s happiness must _either_ be -good in itself, and so a part of Universal Good, _or else_ it cannot -be good in itself at all: there is no escaping this dilemma. And if -it is not good at all, what reason can he have for aiming at it? how -can it be a rational end for him? That qualification ‘for himself’ has -no meaning unless it implies ‘_not_ for others’; and if it implies -‘not for others,’ then it cannot be a rational end for him, since -it cannot be truly good in itself: the phrase ‘an ultimate rational -end for himself’ is a contradiction in terms. By saying that a thing -is an end for one particular person, or good for him, can only be -meant one of four things. Either (1) it may be meant that the end -in question is something which will belong exclusively to him; but -in that case, if it is to be rational for him to aim at it, that he -should exclusively possess it must be a part of Universal Good. Or -(2) it may be meant that it is the only thing at which he ought to -aim; but this can only be, because, by so doing, he will do the most -he can towards realising Universal Good: and this, in our case, will -only give Egoism as a doctrine of _means_. Or (3) it may be meant that -the thing is what he desires or thinks good; and then, if he thinks -wrongly, it is not a rational end at all, and, if he thinks rightly, -it is a part of Universal Good. Or (4) it may be meant that it is -peculiarly appropriate that a thing which will belong exclusively to -him should also by him be approved or aimed at; but, in this case, -both that it should belong to him and that he should aim at it must be -parts of Universal Good: by saying that a certain relation between two -things is fitting or appropriate, we can only mean that the existence -of that relation is absolutely good in itself (unless it be so as a -means, which gives case (2)). By no possible meaning, then, that can -be given to the phrase that his own happiness is the ultimate rational -end for himself can the Egoist escape the implication that his own -happiness is absolutely good; and by saying that it is _the_ ultimate -rational end, he must mean that it is the only good thing--the whole of -Universal Good: and, if he further maintains, that each man’s happiness -is the ultimate rational end for _him_, we have the fundamental -contradiction of Egoism--that an immense number of different things -are, _each_ of them, _the sole good_.--And it is easy to see that the -same considerations apply to the phrase that ‘the difference between -his own happiness and another’s is _for him_ all-important.’ This can -only mean either (1) that his own happiness is the only end which -will affect him, or (2) that the only important thing for him (as a -means) is to look to his own happiness, or (3) that it is only his -own happiness which he cares about, or (4) that it is good that each -man’s happiness should be the only concern of that man. And none of -these propositions, true as they may be, have the smallest tendency to -shew that if his own happiness is desirable at all, it is not a part -of Universal Good. Either his own happiness is a good thing or it is -not; and, in whatever sense it may be all-important for him, it must -be true that, if it is not good, he is not justified in pursuing it, -and that, if it is good, everyone else has an equal reason to pursue -it, so far as they are able and so far as it does not exclude their -attainment of other more valuable parts of Universal Good. In short -it is plain that the addition of ‘for him’ ‘for me’ to such words as -‘ultimate rational end,’ ‘good,’ ‘important’ can introduce nothing but -confusion. The only possible reason that can justify any action is that -by it the greatest possible amount of what is good absolutely should be -realised. And if anyone says that the attainment of his own happiness -justifies his actions, he must mean that this is the greatest possible -amount of Universal Good which he can realise. And this again can only -be true either because _he_ has no power to realise more, in which -case he only holds Egoism as a doctrine of means; or else because his -own happiness is the greatest amount of Universal Good which can be -realised at all, in which case we have Egoism proper, and the flagrant -contradiction that every person’s happiness is singly the greatest -amount of Universal Good which can be realised at all. - - -=61.= It should be observed that, since this is so, ‘the relation of -Rational Egoism to Rational Benevolence,’ which Prof. Sidgwick regards -‘as the profoundest problem of Ethics’ (III. XIII. § 5, _n._ 1), -appears in quite a different light to that in which he presents it. -‘Even if a man,’ he says, ‘admits the self-evidence of the principle -of Rational Benevolence, he may still hold that his own happiness is -an end which it is irrational for him to sacrifice to any other; and -that therefore a harmony between the maxim of Prudence and the maxim of -Rational Benevolence must be somehow demonstrated, if morality is to -be made completely rational. This latter view is that which I myself -hold’ (last Chap. § 1). Prof. Sidgwick then goes on to shew ‘that -the inseparable connection between Utilitarian Duty and the greatest -happiness of the individual who conforms to it cannot be satisfactorily -demonstrated on empirical grounds’ (Ib. § 3). And the final paragraph -of his book tells us that, since ‘the reconciliation of duty and -self-interest is to be regarded as a hypothesis logically necessary -to avoid a fundamental _contradiction_ in one chief department of -our thought, it remains to ask how far this necessity constitutes a -sufficient reason for accepting this hypothesis[20]’ (Ib. § 5). To -‘assume the existence of such a Being, as God, by the _consensus_ of -theologians, is conceived to be’ would, he has already argued, ensure -the required reconciliation; since the Divine Sanctions of such a God -‘would, of course, suffice to make it always every one’s interest to -promote universal happiness to the best of his knowledge’ (Ib. § 5). - - [20] The italics are mine. - -Now what is this ‘reconciliation of duty and self-interest,’ which -Divine Sanctions could ensure? It would consist in the mere fact that -the same conduct which produced the greatest possible happiness of -the greatest number would always also produce the greatest possible -happiness of the agent. If this were the case (and our empirical -knowledge shews that it is not the case in this world), ‘morality’ -would, Prof. Sidgwick thinks, be ‘completely rational’: we should avoid -‘an ultimate and fundamental contradiction in our apparent intuitions -of what is Reasonable in conduct.’ That is to say, we should avoid -the necessity of thinking that it is as manifest an obligation to -secure our own greatest Happiness (maxim of Prudence), as to secure -the greatest Happiness on the whole (maxim of Benevolence). But it -is perfectly obvious we should not. Prof. Sidgwick here commits the -characteristic fallacy of Empiricism--the fallacy of thinking that -an alteration in _facts_ could make a contradiction cease to be a -contradiction. That a single man’s happiness should be _the sole -good_, and that also everybody’s happiness should be _the sole good_, -is a contradiction which cannot be solved by the assumption that the -same conduct will secure both: it would be equally contradictory, -however certain we were that that assumption was justified. Prof. -Sidgwick strains at a gnat and swallows a camel. He thinks the Divine -Omnipotence must be called into play to secure that what gives other -people pleasure should also give it to him--that only so can Ethics -be made rational; while he overlooks the fact that even this exercise -of Divine Omnipotence would leave in Ethics a contradiction, in -comparison with which his difficulty is a trifle--a contradiction, -which would reduce all Ethics to mere nonsense, and before which the -Divine Omnipotence must be powerless to all eternity. That _each_ -man’s happiness should be the _sole good_, which we have seen to be -the principle of Egoism, is in itself a contradiction: and that it -should also be true that the Happiness of all is the _sole good_, -which is the principle of Universalistic Hedonism, would introduce -another contradiction. And that these propositions should all be true -might well be called ‘the profoundest problem in Ethics’: it would be -a problem necessarily insoluble. But they _cannot_ all be true, and -there is no reason, but confusion, for the supposition that they are. -Prof. Sidgwick confuses this contradiction with the mere fact (in which -there is no contradiction) that our own greatest happiness and that -of all do not seem always attainable by the same means. This fact, if -Happiness were the sole good, would indeed be of some importance; and, -on any view, similar facts are of importance. But they are nothing but -instances of the one important fact that in this world the quantity of -good which is attainable is ridiculously small compared to that which -is imaginable. That I cannot get the most possible pleasure for myself, -if I produce the most possible pleasure on the whole, is no more _the_ -profoundest problem of Ethics, than that in any case I cannot get as -much pleasure altogether as would be desirable. It only states that, -if we get as much good as possible in one place, we may get less on -the whole, because the quantity of attainable good is limited. To say -that I have to choose between my own good and that of _all_ is a false -antithesis: the only rational question is how to choose between my own -and that of _others_, and the principle on which this must be answered -is exactly the same as that on which I must choose whether to give -pleasure to this other person or to that. - - -=62.= It is plain, then, that the doctrine of Egoism is -self-contradictory; and that one reason why this is not perceived, -is a confusion with regard to the meaning of the phrase ‘my own -good.’ And it may be observed that this confusion and the neglect -of this contradiction are necessarily involved in the transition -from Naturalistic Hedonism, as ordinarily held, to Utilitarianism. -Mill, for instance, as we saw, declares: ‘Each person, so far as he -believes it to be attainable, desires his own happiness’ (p. 53). And -he offers this as a reason why the general happiness is desirable. We -have seen that to regard it as such, involves, in the first place, -the naturalistic fallacy. But moreover, even if that fallacy were -not a fallacy, it could only be a reason for Egoism and not for -Utilitarianism. Mill’s argument is as follows: A man desires his own -happiness; therefore his own happiness is desirable. Further: A man -desires nothing but his own happiness; therefore his own happiness is -alone desirable. We have next to remember, that everybody, according -to Mill, so desires his own happiness: and then it will follow -that everybody’s happiness is alone desirable. And this is simply -a contradiction in terms. Just consider what it means. Each man’s -happiness is the only thing desirable: several different things are -_each_ of them the _only_ thing desirable. This is the fundamental -contradiction of Egoism. In order to think that what his arguments tend -to prove is not Egoism but Utilitarianism, Mill must think that he can -infer from the proposition ‘Each man’s happiness is his own good,’ the -proposition ‘The happiness of all is the good of all’; whereas in fact, -if we understand what ‘his own good’ means, it is plain that the latter -can only be inferred from ‘The happiness of all is the good of each.’ -Naturalistic Hedonism, then, logically leads only to Egoism. Of course, -a Naturalist might hold that what we aimed at was simply ‘pleasure’ -not our own pleasure; and _that_, always assuming the naturalistic -fallacy, would give an unobjectionable ground for Utilitarianism. But -more commonly he will hold that it is his own pleasure he desires, or -at least will confuse this with the other; and then he must logically -be led to adopt Egoism and not Utilitarianism. - - -=63.= The second cause I have to give why Egoism should be thought -reasonable, is simply its confusion with that other kind of -Egoism--Egoism as a doctrine of means. This second Egoism has a right -to say: You ought to pursue your own happiness, sometimes at all -events; it may even say: Always. And when we find it saying this we -are apt to forget its proviso: But only as a means to something else. -The fact is we are in an imperfect state; we cannot get the ideal all -at once. And hence it is often our bounden duty, we often _absolutely_ -‘_ought_,’ to do things which are good only or chiefly as means: we -have to do the best we can, what is absolutely ‘right,’ but not what -is absolutely good. Of this I shall say more hereafter. I only mention -it here because I think it is much more plausible to say that we ought -to pursue our own pleasure as a means than as an end, and that this -doctrine, through confusion, lends some of its plausibility to the -utterly different doctrine of Egoism proper: My own greatest pleasure -is the only good thing. - - -=64.= So much for Egoism. Of Utilitarianism not much need be said; but -two points may seem deserving of notice. - -The first is that this name, like that of Egoism, does not naturally -suggest that all our actions are to be judged according to the degree -in which they are a means to _pleasure_. Its natural meaning is that -the standard of right and wrong in conduct is its tendency to promote -the _interest_ of everybody. And by _interest_ is commonly meant a -variety of different goods, classed together only because they are -what a man commonly desires for himself, so far as his desires have -not that psychological quality which is meant by ‘moral.’ The ‘useful’ -thus means, and was in ancient Ethics systematically used to mean, -what is a means to the attainment of goods other than moral goods. It -is quite an unjustifiable assumption that these goods are only good -as means to pleasure or that they are commonly so regarded. The chief -reason for adopting the name ‘Utilitarianism’ was, indeed, merely to -emphasize the fact that right and wrong conduct must be judged by its -results--as a means, in opposition to the strictly Intuitionistic view -that certain ways of acting were right and others wrong, whatever their -results might be. In thus insisting that what is right must mean what -produces the best possible results Utilitarianism is fully justified. -But with this correct contention there has been historically, and very -naturally, associated a double error. (1) The best possible results -were assumed to consist only in a limited class of goods, roughly -coinciding with those which were popularly distinguished as the -results of merely ‘useful’ or ‘interested’ actions; and these again -were hastily assumed to be good only as means to pleasure. (2) The -Utilitarians tend to regard everything as a mere means, neglecting the -fact that some things which are good as means are also good as ends. -Thus, for instance, assuming pleasure to be a good, there is a tendency -to value present pleasure only as a means to future pleasure, and -not, as is strictly necessary if pleasure is good as an end, also to -_weigh it against_ possible future pleasures. Much utilitarian argument -involves the logical absurdity that what is here and now, never has -any value in itself, but is only to be judged by its consequences; -which again, of course, when they are realised, would have no value in -themselves, but would be mere means to a still further future, and so -on _ad infinitum_. - -The second point deserving notice with regard to Utilitarianism is -that, when the name is used for a form of Hedonism, it does not -commonly, even in its description of its _end_, accurately distinguish -between means and end. Its best-known formula is that the result by -which actions are to be judged is ‘the greatest happiness of the -greatest number.’ But it is plain that, if pleasure is the sole good, -provided the quantity be equally great, an equally desirable result -will have been obtained whether it be enjoyed by many or by few, or -even if it be enjoyed by nobody. It is plain that, if we ought to aim -at the greatest happiness of the greatest number, this can only, on the -hedonistic principle, be because the existence of pleasure in a great -number of persons seems to be the best _means_ available for attaining -the existence of the greatest quantity of pleasure. This may actually -be the case; but it is fair to suspect that Utilitarians have been -influenced, in their adoption of the hedonistic principle, by this -failure to distinguish clearly between pleasure or consciousness of -pleasure and its possession by a person. It is far easier to regard the -possession of pleasure by a number of persons as the sole good, than so -to regard the mere existence of an equally great quantity of pleasure. -If, indeed, we were to take the Utilitarian principle strictly, and to -assume them to mean that the possession of pleasure by many persons -was good in itself, the principle is not hedonistic: it includes as -a necessary part of the ultimate end, the existence of a number of -persons, and this will include very much more than mere pleasure. - -Utilitarianism, however, as commonly held, must be understood to -maintain that either mere consciousness of pleasure, or consciousness -of pleasure together with the minimum adjunct which may be meant by -the existence of such consciousness in at least one _person_, is the -_sole good_. This is its significance as an ethical doctrine; and as -such it has already been refuted in my refutation of Hedonism. The -most that can be said for it is that it does not seriously mislead in -its practical conclusions, on the ground that, as an empirical fact, -the method of acting which brings most good on the whole does also -bring most pleasure. Utilitarians do indeed generally devote most of -their arguments to shewing that the course of action which will bring -most pleasure is in general such as common sense would approve. We -have seen that Prof. Sidgwick appeals to this fact as tending to shew -that pleasure is the sole good; and we have also seen that it does not -tend to shew this. We have seen how very flimsy the other arguments -advanced for this proposition are; and that, if it be fairly considered -by itself, it appears to be quite ridiculous. And, moreover, that the -actions which produce most good on the whole do also produce most -pleasure is extremely doubtful. The arguments tending to shew it are -all more or less vitiated by the assumption that what appear to be -necessary conditions for the attainment of most pleasure in the near -future, will always continue so to be. And, even with this vicious -assumption, they only succeed in making out a highly problematical -case. How, therefore, this fact is to be explained, if it be a fact, -need not concern us. It is sufficient to have shewn that many complex -states of mind are much more valuable than the pleasure they contain. -If this be so, _no form of Hedonism can be true_. And, since the -practical guidance afforded by pleasure as a _criterion_ is small in -proportion as the calculation attempts to be accurate, we can well -afford to await further investigation, before adopting a guide, whose -utility is very doubtful and whose trustworthiness we have grave reason -to suspect. - - -=65.= The most important points which I have endeavoured to establish -in this chapter are as follows. (1) Hedonism must be strictly -defined as the doctrine that ‘Pleasure is the only thing which is -good in itself’: this view seems to owe its prevalence mainly to the -naturalistic fallacy, and Mill’s arguments may be taken as a type of -those which are fallacious in this respect; Sidgwick alone has defended -it without committing this fallacy, and its final refutation must -therefore point out the errors in his arguments (36-38). (2) Mill’s -‘Utilitarianism’ is criticised: it being shewn (_a_) that he commits -the naturalistic fallacy in identifying ‘desirable’ with ‘desired’; -(_b_) that pleasure is not the only object of desire. The common -arguments for Hedonism seem to rest on these two errors (39-44). (3) -Hedonism is considered as an ‘Intuition,’ and it is pointed out (_a_) -that Mill’s allowance that some pleasures are inferior in quality to -others implies both that it is an Intuition and that it is a false -one (46-48); (_b_) that Sidgwick fails to distinguish ‘pleasure’ -from ‘consciousness of pleasure,’ and that it is absurd to regard the -former, at all events, as the sole good (49-52); (_c_) that it seems -equally absurd to regard ‘consciousness of pleasure’ as the sole good, -since, if it were so, a world in which nothing else existed might be -absolutely perfect: Sidgwick fails to put to himself this question, -which is the only clear and decisive one (53-57). (4) What are commonly -considered to be the two main types of Hedonism, namely, Egoism and -Utilitarianism, are not only different from, but strictly contradictory -of, one another; since the former asserts ‘My own greatest pleasure -is the _sole_ good,’ the latter ‘The greatest pleasure of all is the -_sole_ good.’ Egoism seems to owe its plausibility partly to the -failure to observe this contradiction--a failure which is exemplified -by Sidgwick; partly to a confusion of Egoism as doctrine of end, with -the same as doctrine of means. If Hedonism is true, Egoism cannot -be so; still less can it be so, if Hedonism is false. The end of -Utilitarianism, on the other hand, would, if Hedonism were true, be, -not indeed the best conceivable, but the best possible for us to -promote; but it is refuted by the refutation of Hedonism (58-64). - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -METAPHYSICAL ETHICS. - - -=66.= In this chapter I propose to deal with a type of ethical theory -which is exemplified in the ethical views of the Stoics, of Spinoza, -of Kant, and especially of a number of modern writers, whose views in -this respect are mainly due to the influence of Hegel. These ethical -theories have this in common, that they use some _metaphysical_ -proposition as a ground for inferring some fundamental proposition of -Ethics. They all imply, and many of them expressly hold, that ethical -truths follow logically from metaphysical truths--that Ethics should be -based on _Metaphysics_. And the result is that they all describe the -Supreme Good in _metaphysical_ terms. - -What, then, is to be understood by ‘metaphysical’? I use the term, -as I explained in Chapter II., in opposition to ‘natural.’ I call -those philosophers preeminently ‘metaphysical’ who have recognised -most clearly that not everything which _is_ is a ‘natural object.’ -‘Metaphysicians’ have, therefore, the great merit of insisting that -our knowledge is not confined to the things which we can touch and -see and feel. They have always been much occupied, not only with that -other class of natural objects which consists in mental facts, but also -with the class of objects or properties of objects, which certainly do -not exist in time, are not therefore parts of Nature, and which, in -fact, do not exist at all. To this class, as I have said, belongs what -we mean by the adjective ‘good.’ It is not _goodness_, but only the -things or qualities which are good, which can exist in time--can have -duration, and begin and cease to exist--can be objects of _perception_. -But the most prominent members of this class are perhaps numbers. It -is quite certain that two natural objects may exist; but it is equally -certain that _two_ itself does not exist and never can. Two and two -_are_ four. But that does not mean that either two or four exists. -Yet it certainly means _something_. Two _is_ somehow, although it -does not exist. And it is not only simple terms of propositions--the -objects _about_ which we know truths--that belong to this class. The -truths which we know about them form, perhaps, a still more important -subdivision. No truth does, in fact, _exist_; but this is peculiarly -obvious with regard to truths like ‘Two and two are four,’ in which -the objects, _about_ which they are truths, do not exist either. It -is with the recognition of such truths as these--truths which have -been called ‘universal’--and of their essential unlikeness to what -we can touch and see and feel, that metaphysics proper begins. Such -‘universal’ truths have always played a large part in the reasonings of -metaphysicians from Plato’s time till now; and that they have directed -attention to the difference between these truths and what I have -called ‘natural objects’ is the chief contribution to knowledge which -distinguishes them from that other class of philosophers--‘empirical’ -philosophers--to which most Englishmen have belonged. - -But though, if we are to define ‘metaphysics’ by the contribution -which it has actually made to knowledge, we should have to say that -it has emphasized the importance of objects which do not exist at -all, metaphysicians themselves have not recognised this. They have -indeed recognised and insisted that there are, or may be, objects -of knowledge which do not _exist in time_, or at least which we -cannot perceive; and in recognising the _possibility_ of these, as -an object of investigation, they have, it may be admitted, done a -service to mankind. But they have in general supposed that whatever -does not exist in time, must at least _exist_ elsewhere, if it is to -_be_ at all--that, whatever does not exist in Nature, must exist in -some supersensible reality, whether timeless or not. Consequently -they have held that the truths with which they have been occupied, -over and above the objects of perception, were in some way truths -about such supersensible reality. If, therefore, we are to define -‘metaphysics’ not by what it has attained, but by what it has -attempted, we should say that it consists in the attempt to obtain -knowledge, by processes of reasoning, of what exists but is _not_ a -part of Nature. Metaphysicians have actually held that they could give -us such knowledge of non-natural existence. They have held that their -science consists in giving us such knowledge as can be supported by -reasons, of that supersensible reality of which religion professes to -give us a fuller knowledge, without any reasons. When, therefore, I -spoke above of ‘metaphysical’ propositions, I meant propositions about -the existence of something supersensible--of something which is not -an object of perception, and which cannot be inferred from what is an -object of perception by the same rules of inference by which we infer -the past and future of what we call ‘Nature.’ And when I spoke of -‘metaphysical’ terms, I meant terms which refer to qualities of such -a supersensible reality, which do not belong to anything ‘natural.’ -I admit that ‘metaphysics’ should investigate what reasons there may -be for belief in such a supersensible reality; since I hold that -its peculiar province is the truth about all objects which are not -natural objects. And I think that the most prominent characteristic of -metaphysics, in history, has been its profession to _prove_ the truth -about non-natural _existents_. I define ‘metaphysical,’ therefore, by -a reference to supersensible _reality_; although I think that the only -non-natural objects, about which it has _succeeded_ in obtaining truth, -are objects which do not exist at all. - -So much, I hope, will suffice to explain what I mean by the term -‘metaphysical,’ and to shew that it refers to a clear and important -distinction. It was not necessary for my purpose to make the -definition exhaustive or to shew that it corresponds in essentials -with established usage. The distinction between ‘Nature’ and a -supersensible reality is very familiar and very important: and since -the metaphysician endeavours to _prove_ things with regard to a -supersensible reality, and since he deals largely in truths which are -_not_ mere natural facts, it is plain that his arguments, and errors -(if any), will be of a more subtle kind than those which I have dealt -with under the name of ‘Naturalism.’ For these two reasons it seemed -convenient to treat ‘Metaphysical Ethics’ by themselves. - - -=67.= I have said that those systems of Ethics, which I propose to -call ‘Metaphysical,’ are characterised by the fact that they describe -the Supreme Good in ‘metaphysical’ terms; and this has now been -explained as meaning that they describe it in terms of something -which (they hold) does exist, but does not exist in Nature--in terms -of a supersensible reality. A ‘Metaphysical Ethics’ is marked by the -fact that it makes the assertion: That which would be perfectly good -is something which exists, but is not natural; that which has some -characteristic possessed by a supersensible reality. Such an assertion -was made by the Stoics when they asserted that a life in accordance -with Nature was perfect. For they did not mean by ‘Nature,’ what I have -so defined, but something supersensible which they inferred to exist, -and which they held to be perfectly good. Such an assertion, again, -is made by Spinoza when he tells us that we are more or less perfect, -in proportion as we are more or less closely united with Absolute -Substance by the ‘intellectual love’ of God. Such an assertion is made -by Kant when he tells us that his ‘Kingdom of Ends’ is the ideal. And -such, finally, is made by modern writers who tell us that the final and -perfect end is to realise our _true_ selves--a self different both from -the whole and from any part of that which exists here and now in Nature. - -Now it is plain that such ethical principles have a merit, not -possessed by Naturalism, in recognising that for perfect goodness -much more is required than any quantity of what exists here and now -or can be inferred as likely to exist in the future. And moreover it -is quite possible that their assertions should be true, if we only -understand them to assert that something which is real possesses all -the characteristics necessary for perfect goodness. But this is not -all that they assert. They also imply, as I said, that this ethical -proposition _follows_ from some proposition which is metaphysical: that -the question ‘What is real?’ has some logical bearing upon the question -‘What is good?’ It was for this reason that I described ‘Metaphysical -Ethics’ in Chapter II. as based upon the naturalistic fallacy. To -hold that from any proposition asserting ‘Reality is of this nature’ -we can infer, or obtain confirmation for, any proposition asserting -‘This is good in itself’ is to commit the naturalistic fallacy. And -that a knowledge of what is real supplies reasons for holding certain -things to be good in themselves is either implied or expressly -asserted by all those who define the Supreme Good in metaphysical -terms. This contention is part of what is meant by saying that Ethics -should be ‘based’ on Metaphysics. It is meant that some knowledge -of supersensible reality is necessary _as a premise_ for correct -conclusions as to what ought to exist. This view is, for instance, -plainly expressed in the following statements: ‘The truth is that the -theory of Ethics which seems most satisfactory has a metaphysical -basis.... 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 metaphysical examination -of the nature of self; _nor can its validity be established except -by a discussion of the reality of the rational universe_[21].’ The -validity of an ethical conclusion about the nature of the ideal, it -is here asserted, cannot be established except by considering the -question whether that ideal is _real_. Such an assertion involves -the naturalistic fallacy. It rests upon the failure to perceive that -any truth which asserts ‘This is good in itself’ is quite unique in -kind--that it cannot be reduced to any assertion about reality, and -therefore must remain unaffected by any conclusions we may reach -about the nature of reality. This confusion as to the unique nature -of ethical truths is, I have said, involved in all those ethical -theories which I have called metaphysical. It is plain that, but for -some confusion of the sort, no-one would think it worth while even to -describe the Supreme Good in metaphysical terms. If, for instance, -we are told that the ideal consists in the realisation of the ‘true -self,’ the very words suggest that the fact that the self in question -is _true_ is supposed to have some bearing on the fact that it is -good. All the ethical truth which can possibly be conveyed by such -an assertion would be just as well conveyed by saying that the ideal -consisted in the realisation of a particular kind of self, which might -be either real or purely imaginary. ‘Metaphysical Ethics,’ then, -involve the supposition that Ethics can be _based_ on Metaphysics; and -our first concern with them is to make clear that this supposition must -be false. - - [21] Prof. J. S. Mackenzie, _A Manual of Ethics_, 4th ed., p. - 431. The italics are mine. - - -=68.= In what way can the nature of supersensible reality possibly have -a bearing upon Ethics? - -I have distinguished two kinds of ethical questions, which are far too -commonly confused with one another. Ethics, as commonly understood, has -to answer both the question ‘What ought to be?’ and the question ‘What -ought we to do?’ The second of these questions can only be answered -by considering what effects our actions will have. A complete answer -to it would give us that department of Ethics which may be called the -doctrine of _means_ or practical Ethics. And upon this department of -ethical enquiry it is plain that the nature of a supersensible reality -may have a bearing. If, for instance, Metaphysics could tell us not -only that we are immortal, but also, in any degree, what effects our -actions in this life will have upon our condition in a future one, -such information would have an undoubted bearing upon the question -what we ought to do. The Christian doctrines of heaven and hell are -in this way highly relevant to practical Ethics. But it is worthy -of notice that the most characteristic doctrines of Metaphysics are -such as either have no such bearing upon practical Ethics or have -a purely negative bearing--involving the conclusion that there is -nothing which we ought to do at all. They profess to tell us the -nature not of a future reality, but of one that is eternal and which -therefore no actions of ours can have power to alter. Such information -_may_ indeed have relevance to practical Ethics, but it must be of a -purely negative kind. For, if it holds, not only that such an eternal -reality exists, but also, as is commonly the case, that nothing else -is real--that nothing either has been, is now, or will be real in -time--then truly it will follow that nothing we can do will ever bring -any good to pass. For it is certain that our actions can only affect -the future; and if nothing can be real in the future, we can certainly -not hope ever to make any good thing real. It would follow, then, -that there can be nothing which we ought to do. We cannot possibly do -any good; for neither our efforts, nor any result which they may seem -to effect, have any real existence. But this consequence, though it -follows strictly from many metaphysical doctrines, is rarely drawn. -Although a metaphysician may say that nothing is real but that which -is eternal, he will generally allow that there is some reality also in -the temporal: and his doctrine of an eternal reality need not interfere -with practical Ethics, if he allows that, however good the eternal -reality may be, yet some things will also exist in time, and that the -existence of some will be better than that of others. It is, however, -worth while to insist upon this point, because it is rarely fully -realised. - -If it is maintained that there is any validity at all in practical -Ethics--that any proposition which asserts ‘We ought to do so and -so’ can have any truth--this contention can only be consistent with -the Metaphysics of an eternal reality, under two conditions. One of -these is, (1) that the true eternal reality, which is to be our guide, -cannot, as is implied by calling it true, be the _only_ true reality. -For a moral rule, bidding us realise a certain end, can only be -justified, if it is possible that that end should, at least partially, -be realised. Unless our efforts can effect the _real_ existence of some -good, however little, we certainly have no reason for making them. -And if the eternal reality is the sole reality, then nothing good -can possibly exist in time: we can only be told to try to bring into -existence something which we know beforehand cannot possibly exist. If -it is said that what exists in time can only be a manifestation of the -true reality, it must at least be allowed that that manifestation is -another true reality--a good which we really can cause to exist; for -the production of something quite unreal, even if it were possible, -cannot be a reasonable end of action. But if the manifestation of that -which eternally exists is real, then that which eternally exists is not -the sole reality. - -And the second condition which follows from such a metaphysical -principle of Ethics, is (2) that the eternal reality cannot be -perfect--cannot be the sole good. For just as a reasonable rule of -conduct requires that what we are told to realise should be capable of -being truly real, so it requires that the realisation of this ideal -shall be truly good. It is just that which _can_ be realised by our -efforts--the appearance of the eternal in time, or whatsoever else is -allowed to be attainable--which must be truly good, if it is to be -worth our efforts. That the eternal reality is good, will by no means -justify us in aiming at its manifestation, unless that manifestation -itself be also good. For the manifestation is different from the -reality: its difference is allowed, when we are told that it can be -made to exist, whereas the reality itself exists unalterably. And the -existence of this manifestation is the only thing which we can hope to -effect: that also is admitted. If, therefore, the moral maxim is to be -justified, it is the existence of this manifestation, as distinguished -from the existence of its corresponding reality, which must be truly -good. The reality may be good too: but to justify the statement that we -ought to produce anything, it must be maintained, that just that thing -itself, and not something else which may be like it, is truly good. -If it is not true that the existence of the manifestation will add -something to the sum of good in the Universe, then we have no reason to -aim at making it exist; and if it is true that it will add something to -the sum of good, then the existence of that which is eternal cannot be -perfect by itself--it cannot include the whole of possible goods. - -Metaphysics, then, will have a bearing upon practical Ethics--upon the -question what we ought to do--if it can tell us anything about the -future consequences of our actions beyond what can be established by -ordinary inductive reasoning. But the most characteristic metaphysical -doctrines, those which profess to tell us not about the future but -about the nature of an eternal reality, can either have no bearing upon -this practical question or else must have a purely destructive bearing. -For it is plain that what exists eternally cannot be affected by our -actions; and only what is affected by our actions can have a bearing -on their value as means. But the nature of an eternal reality either -admits no inference as to the results of our actions, except in so far -as it can _also_ give us information about the future (and how it can -do this is not plain), or else, if, as is usual, it is maintained to -be the sole reality and the sole good, it shews that no results of our -actions can have any value whatever. - - -=69.= But this bearing upon practical Ethics, such as it is, is not -what is commonly meant when it is maintained that Ethics must be based -on Metaphysics. It is not the assertion of this relation which I have -taken to be characteristic of Metaphysical Ethics. What metaphysical -writers commonly maintain is not merely that Metaphysics can help us to -decide what the effects of our actions will be, but that it can tell us -which among possible effects will be good and which will be bad. They -profess that Metaphysics is a necessary basis for an answer to that -other and primary ethical question: What ought to be? What is good in -itself? That no truth about what is real can have any logical bearing -upon the answer to this question has been proved in Chapter I. To -suppose that it has, implies the naturalistic fallacy. All that remains -for us to do is, therefore, to expose the main errors which seem to -have lent plausibility to this fallacy in its metaphysical form. If -we ask: What bearing can Metaphysics have upon the question, What is -good? the only possible answer is: Obviously and absolutely none. We -can only hope to enforce conviction that this answer is the only true -one by answering the question: Why has it been supposed to have such a -bearing? We shall find that metaphysical writers seem to have failed to -distinguish this primary ethical question: What is good? from various -other questions; and to point out these distinctions will serve to -confirm the view that their profession to base Ethics on Metaphysics is -solely due to confusion. - - -=70.= And, first of all, there is an ambiguity in the very question: -What is good? to which it seems some influence must be attributed. -The question may mean either: Which among existing things are good? -or else: What _sort of_ things are good, what are the things which, -whether they _are_ real or not, ought to be real? And of these two -questions it is plain that to answer the first, we must know both -the answer to the second and also the answer to the question: What -is real? It asks us for a catalogue of all the good things in the -Universe; and to answer it we must know both what things there are in -the Universe and also which of them are good. Upon this question then -our Metaphysics would have a bearing, if it can tell us what is real. -It would help us to complete the list of things which are both real -and good. But to make such a list is not the business of Ethics. So -far as it enquires What is good? its business is finished when it has -completed the list of things which ought to exist, whether they do -exist or not. And if our Metaphysics is to have any bearing upon this -part of the ethical problem, it must be because the fact that something -is real gives a reason for thinking that it or something else is good, -whether it be real or not. That any such fact can give any such reason -is impossible; but it may be suspected that the contrary supposition -has been encouraged by the failure to distinguish between the assertion -‘This is good,’ when it means ‘_This sort of thing_ is good,’ or ‘This -would be good, if it existed,’ and the assertion ‘This existing thing -is good.’ The latter proposition obviously cannot be true, unless -the thing exists; and hence the proof of the thing’s existence is a -necessary step to its proof. Both propositions, however, in spite -of this immense difference between them, are commonly expressed in -the same terms. We use the same words, when we assert an ethical -proposition about a subject that is actually real, and when we assert -it about a subject considered as merely possible. - -In this ambiguity of language we have, then, a possible source of error -with regard to the bearing of truths that assert reality upon truths -that assert goodness. And that this ambiguity is actually neglected by -those metaphysical writers who profess that the Supreme Good consists -in an eternal reality may be shewn in the following way. We have seen, -in considering the possible bearing of Metaphysics upon Practical -Ethics, that, since what exists eternally cannot possibly be affected -by our actions, no practical maxim can possibly be true, if the sole -reality is eternal. This fact, as I said, is commonly neglected by -metaphysical writers: they assert both of the two contradictory -propositions that the sole reality is eternal and that its realisation -in the future is a good too. Prof. Mackenzie, we saw, asserts that we -ought to aim at the realisation of ‘the true self’ or ‘the rational -universe’: and yet Prof. Mackenzie holds, as the word ‘true’ plainly -implies, that both ‘the true self’ and ‘the rational universe’ are -eternally real. Here we have already a contradiction in the supposition -that what is eternally real can be realised in the future; and it is -comparatively unimportant whether or not we add to this the further -contradiction involved in the supposition that the eternal is the sole -reality. That such a contradiction should be supposed valid can only be -explained by a neglect of the distinction between a real subject and -the character which that real subject possesses. _What_ is eternally -real may, indeed, be realised in the future, if by this be only meant -the _sort of thing_ which is eternally real. But when we assert that -a thing is good, what we mean is that its existence or reality is -good; and the eternal existence of a thing cannot possibly be the -same good as the existence in time of what, in a necessary sense, -is nevertheless the _same_ thing. When, therefore, we are told that -the future realisation of the _true_ self is good, this can at most -only mean that the future realisation of a self _exactly like_ the -self, which is true and exists eternally, is good. If this fact were -clearly stated, instead of consistently ignored, by those who advocate -the view that the Supreme Good can be defined in these metaphysical -terms, it seems probable that the view that a knowledge of reality -is necessary to a knowledge of the Supreme Good would lose part of -its plausibility. That that at which we ought to aim cannot possibly -be that which is eternally real, even if it be exactly like it; and -that the eternal reality cannot possibly be the sole good--these two -propositions seem sensibly to diminish the probability that Ethics must -be based on Metaphysics. It is not very plausible to maintain that -because one thing is real, therefore something like it, which is not -real, would be good. It seems, therefore, that some of the plausibility -of Metaphysical Ethics may be reasonably attributed to the failure to -observe that verbal ambiguity, whereby ‘This is good’ may mean either -‘This real thing is good’ or ‘The existence of this thing (whether it -exists or not) would be good.’ - - -=71.= By exposing this ambiguity, then, we are enabled to see more -clearly what must be meant by the question: Can Ethics be based on -Metaphysics? and we are, therefore, more likely to find the correct -answer. It is now plain that a metaphysical principle of Ethics -which says ‘This eternal reality is the Supreme Good’ can only mean -‘Something like this eternal reality would be the Supreme Good.’ We -are now to understand such principles as having the only meaning which -they can consistently have, namely, as describing the kind of thing -which ought to exist in the future, and which we ought to try to bring -about. And, when this is clearly recognised, it seems more evident -that the knowledge that such a kind of thing is also eternally real, -cannot help us at all towards deciding the properly ethical question: -Is the existence of that kind of good thing? If we can see that an -eternal reality is good, we can see, equally easily, once the idea -of such a thing has been suggested to us, that it _would_ be good. -The metaphysical construction of Reality would therefore be quite as -useful, for the purposes of Ethics, if it were a mere construction -of an imaginary Utopia: provided the kind of thing suggested is the -same, fiction is as useful as truth, for giving us matter, upon -which to exercise the judgment of value. Though, therefore, we admit -that Metaphysics may serve an ethical purpose, in suggesting things, -which would not otherwise have occurred to us, but which, when they -are suggested, we see to be good; yet, it is not as Metaphysics--as -professing to tell us what is real--that it has this use. And, in -fact, the pursuit of truth must limit the usefulness of Metaphysics -in this respect. Wild and extravagant as are the assertions which -metaphysicians have made about reality, it is not to be supposed but -that they have been partially deterred from making them wilder still, -by the idea that it was their business to tell nothing but the truth. -But the wilder they are, and the less useful for Metaphysics, the -more useful will they be for Ethics; since, in order to be sure that -we have neglected nothing in the description of our ideal, we should -have had before us as wide a field as possible of suggested goods. It -is probable that this utility of Metaphysics, in suggesting possible -ideals, may sometimes be what is meant by the assertion that Ethics -should be based on Metaphysics. It is not uncommon to find that which -suggests a truth confused with that on which it logically depends; and -I have already pointed out that Metaphysical have, in general, this -superiority over Naturalistic systems, that they conceive the Supreme -Good as something differing more widely from what exists here and now. -But, if it be recognised that, in this sense, Ethics should, far more -emphatically, be _based on_ fiction, metaphysicians will, I think, -admit that a connection of this kind between Metaphysics and Ethics -would by no means justify the importance which they attribute to the -bearing of the one study on the other. - - -=72.= We may, then, attribute the obstinate prejudice that a knowledge -of supersensible reality is a necessary step to a knowledge of what -is good in itself, partly to a failure to perceive that the subject -of the latter judgment is not anything _real_ as such, and partly to -a failure to distinguish the cause of our perception of a truth from -the reason why it is true. But these two causes will carry us only a -very little way in our explanation of why Metaphysics should have been -supposed to have a bearing upon Ethics. The first explanation which -I have given would only account for the supposition that a thing’s -reality is a _necessary condition_ for its goodness. This supposition -is, indeed, commonly made; we find it commonly presupposed that unless -a thing can be shewn to be involved in the constitution of reality, it -cannot be good. And it is, therefore, worth while to insist that this -is not the case; that Metaphysics is not even necessary to furnish -_part_ of the basis of Ethics. But when metaphysicians talk of basing -Ethics on Metaphysics they commonly mean much more than this. They -commonly mean that Metaphysics is the _sole_ basis of Ethics--that it -furnishes not only one necessary condition but _all_ the conditions -necessary to prove that certain things are good. And this view may, -at first sight, appear to be held in two different forms. It may be -asserted that merely to prove a thing supersensibly real is sufficient -to prove it good: that the truly real must, for that reason alone, -be truly good. But more commonly it appears to be held that the real -must be good because it possesses certain characters. And we may, I -think, reduce the first kind of assertion to no more than this. When -it is asserted that the real must be good, because it is real, it is -commonly also held that this is only because, in order to be real, it -must be of a certain kind. The reasoning by which it is thought that a -metaphysical enquiry can give an ethical conclusion is of the following -form. From a consideration of what it is to be real, we can infer that -what is real must have certain supersensible properties: but to have -these properties is identical with being good--it is the very meaning -of the word: it follows therefore that what has these properties is -good: and from a consideration of what it is to be real, we can again -infer what it is that has these properties. It is plain that, if such -reasoning were correct, any answer which could be given to the question -‘What is good in itself?’ could be arrived at by a purely metaphysical -discussion and by that alone. Just as, when Mill supposed that ‘to -be good’ _meant_ ‘to be desired,’ the question ‘What is good?’ could -be and must be answered solely by an empirical investigation of the -question what was desired; so here, if to be good means to have some -supersensible property, the ethical question can and must be answered -by a metaphysical enquiry into the question, What has this property? -What, then, remains to be done in order to destroy the plausibility of -Metaphysical Ethics, is to expose the chief errors which seem to have -led metaphysicians to suppose that to be good _means_ to possess some -supersensible property. - - -=73.= What, then, are the chief reasons which have made it seem -plausible to maintain that to be good must _mean_ to possess some -supersensible property or to be related to some supersensible reality? - -We may, first of all, notice one, which seems to have had some -influence in causing the view that good must be defined by _some_ -such property, although it does not suggest any _particular_ property -as the one required. This reason lies in the supposition that the -proposition ‘This is good’ or ‘This would be good, if it existed’ must, -in a certain respect, be of the same type as other propositions. -The fact is that there is one type of proposition so familiar to -everyone, and therefore having such a strong hold upon the imagination, -that philosophers have always supposed that all other types must be -reducible to it. This type is that of the objects of experience--of all -those truths which occupy our minds for the immensely greater part of -our waking lives: truths such as that somebody is in the room, that I -am writing or eating or talking. All these truths, however much they -may differ, have this in common that in them both the grammatical -subject and the grammatical predicate stand for something which exists. -Immensely the commonest type of truth, then, is one which asserts a -relation between two existing things. Ethical truths are immediately -felt not to conform to this type, and the naturalistic fallacy arises -from the attempt to make out that, in some roundabout way, they do -conform to it. It is immediately obvious that when we see a thing -to be good, its goodness is not a property which we can take up in -our hands, or separate from it even by the most delicate scientific -instruments, and transfer to something else. It is not, in fact, like -most of the predicates which we ascribe to things, a _part_ of the -thing to which we ascribe it. But philosophers suppose that the reason -why we cannot take goodness up and move it about, is not that it is -a different _kind_ of object from any which can be moved about, but -only that it _necessarily_ exists together with anything with which -it does exist. They explain the type of ethical truths by supposing -it identical with the type of scientific laws. And it is only when -they have done this that the naturalistic philosophers proper--those -who are empiricists--and those whom I have called ‘metaphysical’ part -company. These two classes of philosophers do, indeed, differ with -regard to the nature of scientific laws. The former class tend to -suppose that when they say ‘This always accompanies that’ they mean -only ‘This has accompanied, does now, and will accompany that in these -particular instances’: they reduce the scientific law quite simply -and directly to the familiar type of proposition which I have pointed -out. But this does not satisfy the metaphysicians. They see that when -you say ‘This would accompany that, _if_ that existed,’ you don’t mean -only that this and that have existed and will exist together so many -times. But it is beyond even their powers to believe that what you do -mean is merely what you say. They still think you must mean, somehow -or other, that something does exist, since that is what you generally -mean when you say anything. They are as unable as the empiricists to -imagine that you can ever mean that 2 + 2 = 4. The empiricists say this -means that so many couples of couples of things have in each case been -four things; and hence that 2 and 2 would not make 4, unless precisely -those things had existed. The metaphysicians feel that this is wrong; -but they themselves have no better account of its meaning to give -than either, with Leibniz, that God’s mind is in a certain state, or, -with Kant, that your mind is in a certain state, or finally, with Mr -Bradley, that something is in a certain state. Here, then, we have the -root of the naturalistic fallacy. The metaphysicians have the merit -of seeing that when you say ‘This would be good, if it existed,’ you -can’t mean merely ‘This has existed and was desired,’ however many -times that may have been the case. They will admit that some good -things have not existed in this world, and even that some may not have -been desired. But what you can mean, except that _something_ exists, -they really cannot see. Precisely the same error which leads them to -suppose that there must _exist_ a supersensible Reality, leads them to -commit the naturalistic fallacy with regard to the meaning of ‘good.’ -Every truth, they think, must mean somehow that something exists; and -since, unlike the empiricists, they recognise some truths which do not -mean that anything exists here and now, these they think must mean -that something exists _not_ here and now. On the same principle, since -‘good’ is a predicate which neither does nor can exist, they are bound -to suppose either that ‘to be good’ means to be related to some other -particular thing which can exist and does exist ‘in reality’; or else -that it means merely ‘to belong to the real world’--that goodness is -transcended or absorbed in reality. - - -=74.= That such a reduction of _all_ propositions to the type of those -which assert either that something exists or that something which -exists has a certain attribute (which means, that both exist in a -certain relation to one another), is erroneous, may easily be seen by -reference to the particular class of ethical propositions. For whatever -we may have proved to exist, and whatever two existents we may have -proved to be necessarily connected with one another, it still remains -a distinct and different question whether what thus exists is good; -whether either or both of the two existents is so; and whether it is -good that they should exist together. To assert the one is plainly and -obviously _not_ the same thing as to assert the other. We understand -what we mean by asking: Is this, which exists, or necessarily exists, -after all, good? and we perceive that we are asking a question which -has _not_ been answered. In face of this direct perception that the -two questions are distinct, no proof that they _must_ be identical can -have the slightest value. That the proposition ‘This is good’ is thus -distinct from every other proposition was proved in Chapter I.; and I -may now illustrate this fact by pointing out how it is distinguished -from two particular propositions with which it has commonly been -identified. That so and so _ought to be done_ is commonly called a -moral _law_, and this phrase naturally suggests that this proposition -is in some way analogous either to a natural law, or to a law in the -legal sense, or to both. All three are, in fact, really analogous in -one respect, and in one respect only: that they include a proposition -which is _universal_. A moral law asserts ‘This is good _in all -cases_’; a natural law asserts ‘This happens _in all cases_’; and a -law, in the legal sense, ‘It is commanded that this be done, or be left -undone, _in all cases_.’ But since it is very natural to suppose that -the analogy extends further, and that the assertion ‘This is good in -all cases’ is equivalent to the assertion ‘This happens in all cases’ -or to the assertion ‘It is commanded that this be done in all cases,’ -it may be useful briefly to point out that they are _not_ equivalent. - - -=75.= The fallacy of supposing moral law to be analogous to natural -law in respect of asserting that some action is one which is always -necessarily done is contained in one of the most famous doctrines of -Kant. Kant identifies what ought to be with the law according to which -a Free or Pure Will _must_ act--with the only kind of action which is -possible for it. And by this identification he does not mean merely to -assert that the Free Will is _also_ under the necessity of doing what -it ought; he means that what it ought to do _means_ nothing but its own -law--the law according to which it must act. It differs from the human -will just in that, what _we_ ought to do, is what _it_ necessarily -does. It is ‘autonomous’; and by this is meant (among other things) -that there is no separate standard by which it can be judged: that the -question ‘Is the law by which this Will acts a good one?’ is, in its -case, meaningless. It follows that what is necessarily willed by this -Pure Will is good, not _because_ that Will is good, nor for any other -reason; but merely because it is what is necessarily willed by a Pure -Will. - -Kant’s assertion of the ‘Autonomy of the Practical Reason’ thus has -the very opposite effect to that which he desired; it makes his -Ethics ultimately and hopelessly ‘heteronomous.’ His Moral Law is -‘independent’ of Metaphysics only in the sense that according to him -we can _know_ it independently; he holds that we can only infer that -there is Freedom, from the fact that the Moral Law is true. And so far -as he keeps strictly to this view, he does avoid the error, into which -most metaphysical writers fall, of allowing his opinions as to what is -real to influence his judgments of what is good. But he fails to see -that on his view the Moral Law is dependent upon Freedom in a far more -important sense than that in which Freedom depends on the Moral Law. He -admits that Freedom is the _ratio essendi_ of the Moral Law, whereas -the latter is only _ratio cognoscendi_ of Freedom. And this means that, -unless Reality be such as he says, no assertion that ‘This is good’ can -possibly be true: it can indeed have no meaning. He has, therefore, -furnished his opponents with a conclusive method of attacking the -validity of the Moral Law. If they can only shew by some other means -(which he denies to be possible but leaves theoretically open) that the -nature of Reality is not such as he says, he cannot deny that they will -have proved his ethical principle to be false. If that ‘This ought to -be done’ _means_ ‘This is willed by a Free Will,’ then, if it can be -shewn that there is no Free Will which wills anything, it will follow -that nothing ought to be done. - - -=76.= And Kant also commits the fallacy of supposing that ‘This ought -to be’ means ‘This is commanded.’ He conceives the Moral Law to be an -Imperative. And this is a very common mistake. ‘This ought to be,’ it -is assumed, must mean ‘This is commanded’; nothing, therefore, would -be good unless it were commanded; and since commands in this world -are liable to be erroneous, what ought to be in its ultimate sense -means ‘what is commanded by some real supersensible authority.’ With -regard to this authority it is, then, no longer possible to ask ‘Is it -righteous?’ Its commands cannot fail to be right, because to be right -means to be what it commands. Here, therefore, law, in the moral sense, -is supposed analogous to law, in the legal sense, rather than, as in -the last instance, to law in the natural sense. It is supposed that -moral obligation is analogous to legal obligation, with this difference -only that whereas the source of legal obligation is earthly, that of -moral obligation is heavenly. Yet it is obvious that if by a source of -obligation is meant only a power which binds you or compels you to do -a thing, it is not because it does do this that you ought to obey it. -It is only if it be itself so good, that it commands and enforces only -what is good, that it can be a source of moral obligation. And in that -case what it commands and enforces would be good, whether commanded and -enforced or not. Just that which makes an obligation legal, namely the -fact that it is commanded by a certain kind of authority, is entirely -irrelevant to a moral obligation. However an authority be defined, its -commands will be _morally_ binding only if they are--morally binding; -only if they tell us what ought to be or what is a means to that which -ought to be. - - -=77.= In this last error, in the supposition that when I say ‘You -ought to do this’ I must mean ‘You are commanded to do this,’ we -have one of the reasons which has led to the supposition that the -particular supersensible property by reference to which good must -be defined is Will. And that ethical conclusions may be obtained by -enquiring into the nature of a fundamentally real Will seems to be by -far the commonest assumption of Metaphysical Ethics at the present -day. But this assumption seems to owe its plausibility, not so much -to the supposition that ‘ought’ expresses a ‘command,’ as to a far -more fundamental error. This error consists in supposing that to -ascribe certain predicates to a thing is the same thing as to say -that that thing is the object of a certain kind of psychical state. -It is supposed that to say that a thing is real or true is the same -thing as to say that it is known in a certain way; and that the -difference between the assertion that it is good and the assertion -that it is real--between an ethical, therefore, and a metaphysical -proposition--_consists_ in the fact that whereas the latter asserts its -relation to Cognition the former asserts its relation to Will. - -Now that this is an error has been already shewn in Chapter I. That -the assertion ‘This is good’ is _not_ identical with the assertion -‘This is willed,’ either by a supersensible will, or otherwise, nor -with any other proposition, has been proved; nor can I add anything -to that proof. But in face of this proof it may be anticipated that -two lines of defence may be taken up. (1) It may be maintained that, -nevertheless, they really are identical, and facts may be pointed out -which seem to prove that identity. Or else (2) it may be said that an -_absolute_ identity is not maintained: that it is only meant to assert -that there is some special connection between will and goodness, such -as makes an enquiry into the real nature of the former an essential -step in the proof of ethical conclusions. In order to meet these two -possible objections, I propose first to shew what possible connections -there are or may be between goodness and will; and that none of these -can justify us in asserting that ‘This is good’ is identical with ‘This -is willed.’ On the other hand it will appear that some of them may be -easily confused with this assertion of identity; and that therefore the -confusion is likely to have been made. This part of my argument will, -therefore, already go some way towards meeting the second objection. -But what must be conclusive against this is to shew that any possible -connection between will and goodness _except_ the _absolute_ identity -in question, would not be sufficient to give an enquiry into Will the -smallest relevance to the proof of any ethical conclusion. - - -=78.= It has been customary, since Kant’s time, to assert that -Cognition, Volition, and Feeling are three fundamentally distinct -attitudes of the mind towards reality. They are three distinct ways -of experiencing, and each of them informs us of a distinct aspect -under which reality may be considered. The ‘Epistemological’ method of -approaching Metaphysics rests on the assumption that by considering -what is ‘implied in’ Cognition--what is its ‘ideal’--we may discover -what properties the world must have, if it is to be _true_. And -similarly it is held that by considering what is ‘implied in’ the fact -of Willing or Feeling--what is the ‘ideal’ which they presuppose--we -may discover what properties the world must have, if it is to be good -or beautiful. The orthodox Idealistic Epistemologist differs from the -Sensationalist or Empiricist in holding that what we directly cognise -is neither all true nor yet the whole truth: in order to reject the -false and to discover further truths we must, he says, not take -cognition merely as it presents itself, but discover what is _implied_ -in it. And similarly the orthodox Metaphysical Ethicist differs from -the mere Naturalist, in holding that not everything which we actually -will is good, nor, if good, completely good: what is really good is -that which is implied in the essential nature of will. Others again -think that Feeling, and not Will, is the fundamental _datum_ for -Ethics. But, in either case, it is agreed that Ethics has some relation -to Will or Feeling which it has not to Cognition, and which other -objects of study have to Cognition. Will or Feeling, on the one hand, -and Cognition, on the other, are regarded as in some sense coordinate -sources of philosophical knowledge--the one of Practical, the other of -Theoretical philosophy. - -What, that is true, can possibly be meant by this view? - - -=79.= First of all, it may be meant that, just as, by reflection on our -perceptual and sensory experience, we become aware of the distinction -between truth and falsehood, so it is by reflection on our experiences -of feeling and willing that we become aware of ethical distinctions. -We should not know what was meant by thinking one thing better than -another unless the attitude of our will or feeling towards one thing -was different from its attitude towards another. All this may be -admitted. But so far we have only the psychological fact that it is -only _because_ we will or feel things in a certain way, that we ever -come to think them good; just as it is only because we have certain -perceptual experiences, that we ever come to think things true. Here, -then, is a special connection between willing and goodness; but it is -only a _causal_ connection--that willing is a necessary condition for -the cognition of goodness. - -But it may be said further that willing and feeling are not only the -origin of cognitions of goodness; but that to will a thing, or to have -a certain feeling towards a thing, is the _same thing_ as to think it -good. And it may be admitted that even this is _generally_ true in a -sense. It does seem to be true that we hardly ever think a thing good, -and never very decidedly, without at the same time having a special -attitude of feeling or will towards it; though it is certainly not the -case that this is true universally. And the converse may possibly be -true universally: it may be the case that a perception of goodness is -included in the complex facts which we mean by willing and by having -certain kinds of feeling. Let us admit then, that to think a thing good -and to will it are _the same thing_ in this sense, that, wherever the -latter occurs, the former also occurs as a _part_ of it; and even that -they are _generally the same thing_ in the converse sense, that when -the former occurs it is generally a part of the latter. - - -=80.= These facts may seem to give countenance to the general assertion -that to think a thing good is to prefer it or approve it, in the -sense in which preference and approval denote certain kinds of will -or feeling. It seems to be always true that when we thus prefer or -approve, there is included in that fact the fact that we think good; -and it is certainly true, in an immense majority of instances, that -when we think good, we also prefer or approve. It is natural enough, -then, to say that to think good is to prefer. And what more natural -than to add: When I say a thing is good, I _mean_ that I prefer it? -And yet this natural addition involves a gross confusion. Even if it -be true that to think good is the same thing as to prefer (which, as -we have seen, is _never_ true in the sense that they are absolutely -identical; and not _always_ true, even in the sense that they occur -together), yet it is not true that _what_ you think, when you think a -thing good, is _that_ you prefer it. Even if your thinking the thing -good is the same thing as your preference of it, yet the goodness -of the thing--that _of_ which you think--is, for that very reason, -obviously _not_ the same thing as your preference of it. Whether you -have a certain thought or not is one question; and whether what you -think is true is quite a different one, upon which the answer to the -first has not the least bearing. The fact that you prefer a thing does -not tend to shew that the thing is good; even if it does shew that you -think it so. - -It seems to be owing to this confusion, that the question ‘What -is good?’ is thought to be identical with the question ‘What is -preferred?’ It is said, with sufficient truth, that you would never -know a thing was good unless you preferred it, just as you would never -know a thing existed unless you perceived it. But it is added, and this -is false, that you would never know a thing was good unless you _knew_ -that you preferred it, or that it existed unless you _knew_ that you -perceived it. And it is finally added, and this is utterly false, that -you cannot distinguish the fact that a thing is good from the fact -that you prefer it, or the fact that it exists from the fact that you -perceive it. It is often pointed out that I cannot at any given moment -distinguish what is true from what I think so: and this is true. But -though I cannot distinguish _what_ is true from _what_ I think so, I -always can distinguish what I mean by saying _that_ it is true from -what I mean by saying _that_ I think so. For I understand the meaning -of the supposition that what I think true may nevertheless be false. -When, therefore, I assert that it is true I mean to assert something -different from the fact that I think so. _What_ I think, namely _that_ -something is true, is always quite distinct from the fact that I think -it. The assertion that it is true does not even _include_ the assertion -that I think it so; although, of course, whenever I do think a thing -true, it is, as a matter of fact, also true that I do think it. This -tautologous proposition that for a thing to be thought true it is -necessary that it should be thought, is, however, commonly identified -with the proposition that for a thing to _be_ true it is necessary -that it should be thought. A very little reflection should suffice to -convince anyone that this identification is erroneous; and a very -little more will shew that, if so, we must mean by ‘true’ something -which includes no reference to thinking or to any other psychical fact. -It may be difficult to discover precisely _what_ we mean--to hold the -object in question before us, so as to compare it with other objects: -but that we do mean something distinct and unique can no longer be -matter of doubt. That ‘to be true’ _means_ to be thought in a certain -way is, therefore, certainly false. Yet this assertion plays the most -essential part in Kant’s ‘Copernican revolution’ of philosophy, and -renders worthless the whole mass of modern literature, to which that -revolution has given rise, and which is called Epistemology. Kant held -that what was unified in a certain manner by the synthetic activity of -thought was _ipso facto_ true: that this was the very meaning of the -word. Whereas it is plain that the only connection which can possibly -hold between being true and being thought in a certain way, is that -the latter should be a _criterion_ or test of the former. In order, -however, to establish that it is so, it would be necessary to establish -by the methods of induction that what was true was always thought in a -certain way. Modern Epistemology dispenses with this long and difficult -investigation at the cost of the self-contradictory assumption that -‘truth’ and the criterion of truth are one and the same thing. - - -=81.= It is, then, a very natural, though an utterly false supposition -that for a thing to _be_ true is the same thing as for it to be -perceived or thought of in a certain way. And since, for the reasons -given above, the fact of preference seems roughly to stand in the same -relation to thinking things good, in which the fact of perception -stands to thinking that they are true or exist, it is very natural that -for a thing to _be_ good should be supposed identical with its being -preferred in a certain way. But once this coordination of Volition and -Cognition has been accepted, it is again very natural that every fact -which seems to support the conclusion that being true is identical with -being cognised should confirm the corresponding conclusion that being -good is identical with being willed. It will, therefore, be in place to -point out another confusion, which seems to have had great influence -in causing acceptance of the view that to be true is the same thing as -to be cognised. - -This confusion is due to a failure to observe that when we say we have -a _sensation_ or _perception_ or that we _know_ a thing, we mean to -assert not only that our mind is cognitive, but _also_ that that which -it cognises is true. It is not observed that the usage of these words -is such that, if a thing be untrue, that fact alone is sufficient to -justify us in saying that the person who says he perceives or knows it, -does not _perceive_ or _know_ it, without our either enquiring whether, -or assuming that, his state of mind differs in any respect from what -it would have been had he perceived or known. By this denial we do not -accuse him of an error in introspection, even if there was such an -error: we do not deny that he was aware of a certain object, nor even -that his state of mind was exactly such as he took it to be: we merely -deny that the object, of which he was aware, had a certain property. -It is, however, commonly supposed that when we assert a thing to be -perceived or known, we are asserting one fact only; and since of the -two facts which we really assert, the existence of a psychical state is -by far the easier to distinguish, it is supposed that this is the only -one which we do assert. Thus perception and sensation have come to be -regarded as if they denoted certain states of mind and nothing more; a -mistake which was the easier to make since the commonest state of mind, -to which we give a name which does not imply that its object is true, -namely imagination, may, with some plausibility, be supposed to differ -from sensation and perception not only in the property possessed by -its object, but also in its character as a state of mind. It has thus -come to be supposed that the only difference between perception and -imagination, by which they can be defined, must be a merely psychical -difference: and, if this were the case, it would follow at once that -to _be_ true was identical with being cognised in a certain way; since -the assertion that a thing is perceived does certainly _include_ the -assertion that it is true, and if, nevertheless, that it is perceived -means _only_ that the mind has a certain attitude towards it, then -its truth must be identical with the fact that it is regarded in this -way. We may, then, attribute the view that to be true _means_ to -be cognised in a certain way partly to the failure to perceive that -certain words, which are commonly supposed to stand for nothing more -than a certain kind of cognitive state, do, in fact, _also_ include a -reference to the truth of the object of such states. - - -=82.= I will now sum up my account of the apparent connections between -will and ethical propositions, which seem to support the vague -conviction that ‘This is good’ is somehow identical with ‘This is -willed in a certain way.’ (1) It may be maintained, with sufficient -show of truth, that it is only because certain things were originally -willed, that we ever came to have ethical convictions at all. And it -has been too commonly assumed that to shew what was the cause of a -thing is the same thing as to shew what the thing itself is. It is, -however, hardly necessary to point out that this is not the case. (2) -It may be further maintained, with some plausibility, that to think a -thing good and to will it in a certain way are _now_ as a matter of -fact identical. We must, however, distinguish certain possible meanings -of this assertion. It may be admitted that when we think a thing good, -we _generally_ have a special attitude of will or feeling towards it; -and that, perhaps, when we will it in a certain way, we do always think -it good. But the very fact that we can thus distinguish the question -whether, though the one is always accompanied by the other, yet this -other may not always be accompanied by the first, shews that the two -things are not, in the strict sense, identical. The fact is that, -whatever we mean by will, or by any form of will, the fact we mean by -it certainly always includes something else _beside_ the thinking a -thing good: and hence that, when willing and thinking good are asserted -to be identical, the most that can be meant is that this other element -in will always both accompanies and is accompanied by the thinking -good; and this, as has been said, is of very doubtful truth. Even, -however, if it were strictly true, the fact that the two things can be -distinguished is fatal to the assumed coordination between will and -cognition, in one of the senses in which that assumption is commonly -made. For it is only in respect of the _other_ element in will, that -volition differs from cognition; whereas it is only in respect of the -fact that volition, or some form of volition, _includes_ a _cognition_ -of goodness, that will can have the same relation to ethical, which -cognition has to metaphysical, propositions. Accordingly the fact of -volition, _as a whole_, that is, if we include in it the element which -makes it volition and distinguishes it from cognition, has _not_ the -same relation to ethical propositions which cognition has to those -which are metaphysical. Volition and cognition are _not_ coordinate -ways of experiencing, since it is only in so far as volition denotes -a _complex_ fact, which includes in it the one identical simple fact, -which is meant by _cognition_, that volition is a way of experiencing -at all. - -But, (3) if we allow the terms ‘volition’ or ‘will’ to stand for -‘thinking good,’ although they certainly do not commonly stand for -this, there still remains the question: What connection would this fact -establish between volition and Ethics? Could the enquiry into what was -willed be identical with the ethical enquiry into what was good? It -is plain enough that they could not be identical; though it is also -plain why they should be thought so. The question ‘What is good?’ is -confused with the question ‘What is thought good?’ and the question -‘What is true?’ with the question ‘What is thought true?’ for two main -reasons. (1) One of these is the general difficulty that is found -in distinguishing what is cognised from the cognition of it. It is -observed that I certainly cannot cognise anything that is true without -cognising it. Since, therefore, whenever I know a thing that is true, -the thing is certainly cognised, it is assumed that for a thing to _be_ -true at all is the same thing as for it to be cognised. And (2) it is -not observed that certain words, which are supposed to denote only -peculiar species of cognition, do as a matter of fact _also_ denote -that the object cognised is true. Thus if ‘perception’ be taken to -denote only a certain kind of mental fact, then, since the object of it -is always true, it becomes easy to suppose that to be true means only -to be object to a mental state of that kind. And similarly it is easy -to suppose that to be truly good differs from being falsely thought -so, solely in respect of the fact that to be the former is to be the -object of a volition differing from that of which an apparent good is -the object, in the same way in which a perception (on this supposition) -differs from an illusion. - - -=83.= Being good, then, is not identical with being willed or felt -in any kind of way, any more than being true is identical with being -thought in any kind of way. But let us suppose this to be admitted: Is -it still possible that an enquiry into the nature of will or feeling -should be a necessary step to the proof of ethical conclusions? If -being good and being willed are _not_ identical, then the most that can -be maintained with regard to the connection of goodness with will is -that what is good is always _also_ willed in a certain way, and that -what is willed in a certain way is always _also_ good. And it may be -said that this is all that is meant by those metaphysical writers who -profess to base Ethics upon the Metaphysics of Will. What would follow -from this supposition? - -It is plain that if what is willed in a certain way were always _also_ -good, then the fact that a thing was so willed would be a _criterion_ -of its goodness. But in order to establish that will is a criterion -of goodness, we must be able to shew first and separately that in a -great number of the instances in which we find a certain kind of will -we also find that the objects of that will are good. We might, then, -perhaps, be entitled to infer that in a few instances, where it was not -obvious whether a thing was good or not but was obvious that it was -willed in the way required, the thing was really good, since it had the -property which in all other instances we had found to be accompanied by -goodness. A reference to will might thus, just conceivably, become of -use towards the end of our ethical investigations, when we had already -been able to shew, independently, of a vast number of different objects -that they were really good and in what degree they were so. And against -even this conceivable utility it may be urged (1) That it is impossible -to see why it should not be as easy (and it would certainly be the more -secure way) to prove that the thing in question was good, by the same -methods which we had used in proving that other things were good, as by -reference to our criterion; and (2) That, if we set ourselves seriously -to find out what things are good, we shall see reason to think (as -will appear in Chapter VI.) that they have _no_ other property, both -common and peculiar to them, beside their goodness--that, in fact, -there is no criterion of goodness. - - -=84.= But to consider whether any form of will is or is not a -criterion of goodness is quite unnecessary for our purpose here; -since none of those writers who profess to base their Ethics on -an investigation of will have ever recognised the need of proving -directly and independently that all the things which are willed in -a certain way are good. They make no attempt to shew that will is a -_criterion_ of goodness; and no stronger evidence could be given that -they do not recognise that this, at most, is all it can be. As has -been just pointed out, if we are to maintain that whatever is willed -in a certain way is also good, we must in the first place be able to -shew that certain things have one property ‘goodness,’ and that the -same things _also_ have the other property that they are willed in a -certain way. And secondly we must be able to shew this in a very large -number of instances, if we are to be entitled to claim any assent -for the proposition that these two properties _always_ accompany one -another: even when this was shewn it would still be doubtful whether -the inference from ‘generally’ to ‘always’ would be valid, and almost -certain that this doubtful principle would be useless. But the very -question which it is the business of Ethics to answer is this question -what things are good; and, so long as Hedonism retains its present -popularity, it must be admitted that it is a question upon which there -is scarcely any agreement and which therefore requires the most careful -examination. The greatest and most difficult part of the business -of Ethics would therefore require to have been already accomplished -before we could be entitled to claim that anything was a _criterion_ -of goodness. If, on the other hand, to be willed in a certain way -was _identical_ with being good, then indeed we should be entitled -to start our ethical investigations by enquiring what was willed in -the way required. That this is the way in which metaphysical writers -start their investigations seems to shew conclusively that they are -influenced by the idea that ‘goodness’ is _identical_ with ‘being -willed.’ They do not recognise that the question ‘What is good?’ is a -_different_ one from the question ‘What is willed in a certain way?’ -Thus we find Green explicitly stating that ‘_the_ common characteristic -of the good is that it satisfies some desire[22].’ If we are to take -this statement strictly, it obviously asserts that good things have no -characteristic in common, except that they satisfy some desire--not -even, therefore, that they are good. And this can only be the case, -if being good is _identical_ with satisfying desire: if ‘good’ is -merely another name for ‘desire-satisfying.’ There could be no plainer -instance of the naturalistic fallacy. And we cannot take the statement -as a mere verbal slip, which does not affect the validity of Green’s -main argument. For he nowhere either gives or pretends to give any -reason for believing anything to be good in any sense, except that -it is what would satisfy a particular kind of desire--the kind of -desire which he tries to shew to be that of a moral agent. An unhappy -alternative is before us. Such reasoning would give valid reasons for -his conclusions, if, and only if, being good and being desired in a -particular way were identical: and in this case, as we have seen in -Chapter I., his conclusions would not be ethical. On the other hand, -if the two are not identical, his conclusions may be ethical and may -even be right, but he has not given us a single reason for believing -them. The thing which a scientific Ethics is required to shew, namely -that certain things are really good, he has assumed to begin with, in -assuming that things which are willed in a certain way are always good. -We may, therefore, have as much respect for Green’s conclusions as for -those of any other man who details to us his ethical convictions: but -that any of his arguments are such as to give us any reason for holding -that Green’s convictions are more likely to be true than those of any -other man, must be clearly denied. The _Prolegomena to Ethics_ is quite -as far as Mr Spencer’s _Data of Ethics_, from making the smallest -contribution to the solution of ethical problems. - - [22] _Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 178. - - -=85.= The main object of this chapter has been to shew that -Metaphysics, understood as the investigation of a supposed -supersensible reality, can have no logical bearing whatever upon the -answer to the fundamental ethical question ‘What is good in itself?’ -That this is so, follows at once from the conclusion of Chapter I., -that ‘good’ denotes an ultimate, unanalysable predicate; but this truth -has been so systematically ignored, that it seemed worth while to -discuss and distinguish, in detail, the principal relations, which do -hold, or have been supposed to hold, between Metaphysics and Ethics. -With this view I pointed out:--(1) That Metaphysics may have a bearing -on _practical_ Ethics--on the question ‘What ought we to do?’--so far -as it may be able to tell us what the future effects of our action -will be: what it can _not_ tell us is whether those effects are good -or bad in themselves. One particular type of metaphysical doctrine, -which is very frequently held, undoubtedly has such a bearing on -_practical_ Ethics: for, if it is true that the sole reality is an -eternal, immutable Absolute, then it follows that no actions of ours -can have any real effect, and hence that no _practical_ proposition -can be true. The same conclusion follows from the ethical proposition, -commonly combined with this metaphysical one--namely that this eternal -Reality is also the sole good (68). (2) That metaphysical writers, -as where they fail to notice the contradiction just noticed between -any _practical_ proposition and the assertion that an eternal reality -is the sole good, seem frequently to confuse the proposition that -one particular existing thing is good, with the proposition that the -existence of that kind of thing _would_ be good, wherever it might -occur. To the proof of the former proposition Metaphysics might be -relevant, by shewing that the thing existed; to the proof of the latter -it is wholly irrelevant: it can only serve the _psychological_ function -of suggesting things which may be valuable--a function which would be -still better performed by pure fiction (69-71). - -But the most important source of the supposition that Metaphysics is -relevant to Ethics, seems to be the assumption that ‘good’ _must_ -denote some _real_ property of things--an assumption which is mainly -due to two erroneous doctrines, the first _logical_, the second -_epistemological_. Hence (3) I discussed the _logical_ doctrine that -all propositions assert a relation between existents; and pointed -out that the assimilation of ethical propositions either to natural -laws or to commands are instances of this _logical_ fallacy (72-76). -And finally (4) I discussed the _epistemological_ doctrine that to be -good is equivalent to being willed or felt in some particular way; a -doctrine which derives support from the analogous error, which Kant -regarded as the cardinal point of his system and which has received -immensely wide acceptance--the erroneous view that to be ‘true’ or -‘real’ is equivalent to being thought in a particular way. In this -discussion the main points to which I desire to direct attention -are these: (_a_) That Volition and Feeling are _not_ analogous to -Cognition in the manner assumed; since in so far as these words denote -an attitude of the mind towards an object, they are themselves merely -instances of Cognition: they differ only in respect of the kind of -object of which they take cognisance, and in respect of the other -mental accompaniments of such cognitions: (_b_) That universally the -_object_ of a cognition must be distinguished from the cognition of -which it is the object; and hence that in no case can the question -whether the object is _true_ be identical with the question how it is -cognised or whether it is cognised at all: it follows that even if the -proposition ‘This is good’ were always the object of certain kinds of -will or feeling, the _truth_ of that proposition could in no case be -established by proving that it was their object; far less can that -proposition itself be identical with the proposition that its subject -is the object of a volition or a feeling (77-84). - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -ETHICS IN RELATION TO CONDUCT. - - -=86.= In the present chapter we have again to take a great step in -ethical method. My discussion hitherto has fallen under two main -heads. Under the first, I tried to shew what ‘good’--the adjective -‘good’--_means_. This appeared to be the first point to be settled in -any treatment of Ethics, that should aim at being systematic. It is -necessary we should know this, should know what good means, before we -can go on to consider what is good--what things or qualities are good. -It is necessary we should know it for two reasons. The first reason -is that ‘good’ is the notion upon which all Ethics depends. We cannot -hope to understand what we mean, when we say that this is good or that -is good, until we understand quite clearly, not only what ‘this’ is or -‘that’ is (which the natural sciences and philosophy can tell us) but -also what is meant by calling them good, a matter which is reserved -for Ethics only. Unless we are quite clear on this point, our ethical -reasoning will be always apt to be fallacious. We shall think that we -are proving that a thing is ‘good,’ when we are really only proving -that it is something else; since unless we know what ‘good’ means, -unless we know what is meant by that notion in itself, as distinct from -what is meant by any other notion, we shall not be able to tell when -we are dealing with it and when we are dealing with something else, -which is perhaps like it, but yet not the same. And the second reason -why we should settle first of all this question ‘What good means?’ -is a reason of method. It is this, that we can never know on what -_evidence_ an ethical proposition rests, until we know the nature of -the notion which makes the proposition ethical. We cannot tell what -is possible, by way of proof, in favour of one judgment that ‘This or -that is good,’ or against another judgment ‘That this or that is bad,’ -until we have recognised what the nature of such propositions must -always be. In fact, it follows from the meaning of good and bad, that -such propositions are all of them, in Kant’s phrase, ‘synthetic’: they -all must rest in the end upon some proposition which must be simply -accepted or rejected, which cannot be logically deduced from any other -proposition. This result, which follows from our first investigation, -may be otherwise expressed by saying that the fundamental principles -of Ethics must be self-evident. But I am anxious that this expression -should not be misunderstood. The expression ‘self-evident’ means -properly that the proposition so called is evident or true, _by itself_ -alone; that it is not an inference from some proposition other than -_itself_. The expression does _not_ mean that the proposition is -true, because it is evident to you or me or all mankind, because in -other words it appears to us to be true. That a proposition appears -to be true can never be a valid argument that true it really is. By -saying that a proposition is self-evident, we mean emphatically that -its appearing so to us, is _not_ the reason why it is true: for we -mean that it has absolutely no reason. It would not be a self-evident -proposition, if we could say of it: I cannot think otherwise and -therefore it is true. For then its evidence or proof would not lie in -itself, but in something else, namely our conviction of it. That it -appears true to us may indeed be the _cause_ of our asserting it, or -the reason why we think and say that it is true: but a reason in this -sense is something utterly different from a logical reason, or reason -why something is true. Moreover, it is obviously not a reason of the -same thing. The _evidence_ of a proposition to us is only a reason -for _our holding it_ to be true: whereas a logical reason, or reason -in the sense in which self-evident propositions have no reason, is a -reason why _the proposition itself_ must be true, not why we hold it -so to be. Again that a proposition is evident to us may not only be -the reason why we do think or affirm it, it may even be a _reason_ -why we ought to think it or affirm it. But a reason, in this sense -too, is not a logical reason for the truth of the proposition, though -it is a logical reason for the rightness of holding the proposition. -In our common language, however, these three meanings of ‘reason’ are -constantly confused, whenever we say ‘I have a reason for thinking that -true.’ But it is absolutely essential, if we are to get clear notions -about Ethics or, indeed, about any other, especially any philosophical, -study, that we should distinguish them. When, therefore, I talk of -Intuitionistic Hedonism, I must not be understood to imply that my -denial that ‘Pleasure is the only good’ is _based_ on my Intuition of -its falsehood. My Intuition of its falsehood is indeed _my_ reason for -_holding_ and declaring it untrue; it is indeed the only valid reason -for so doing. But that is just because there is _no_ logical reason -for it; because there is no proper evidence or reason of its falsehood -except itself alone. It is untrue, because it is untrue, and there -is no other reason: but I _declare_ it untrue, because its untruth -is evident to me, and I hold that that is a sufficient reason for my -assertion. We must not therefore look on Intuition, as if it were -an alternative to reasoning. Nothing whatever can take the place of -_reasons_ for the truth of any proposition: intuition can only furnish -a reason for _holding_ any proposition to be true: this however it must -do when any proposition is self-evident, when, in fact, there are no -reasons which prove its truth. - - -=87.= So much, then, for the first step in our ethical method, the -step which established that good is good and nothing else whatever, -and that Naturalism was a fallacy. A second step was taken when we -began to consider proposed self-evident principles of Ethics. In this -second division, resting on our result that good means good, we began -the discussion of propositions asserting that such and such a thing -or quality or concept was good. Of such a kind was the principle of -Intuitionistic or Ethical Hedonism--the principle that ‘Pleasure alone -is good.’ Following the method established by our first discussion, -I claimed that the untruth of this proposition was self-evident. I -could do nothing to _prove_ that it was untrue; I could only point -out as clearly as possible what it means, and how it contradicts other -propositions which appear to be equally true. My only object in all -this was, necessarily, to convince. But even if I did convince, that -does not prove that we are right. It justifies us in _holding_ that -we are so; but nevertheless we may be wrong. On one thing, however, -we may justly pride ourselves. It is that we have had a better chance -of answering our question rightly, than Bentham or Mill or Sidgwick -or others who have contradicted us. For we have _proved_ that these -have never even asked themselves the question which they professed to -answer. They have confused it with another question: small wonder, -therefore, if their answer is different from ours. We must be quite -sure that the same question has been put, before we trouble ourselves -at the different answers that are given to it. For all we know, the -whole world would agree with us, if they could once clearly understand -the question upon which we want their votes. Certain it is, that in -all those cases where we found a difference of opinion, we found also -that the question had _not_ been clearly understood. Though, therefore, -we cannot prove that we are right, yet we have reason to believe that -everybody, unless he is mistaken as to what he thinks, will think the -same as we. It is as with a sum in mathematics. If we find a gross and -palpable error in the calculations, we are not surprised or troubled -that the person who made this mistake has reached a different result -from ours. We think he will admit that his result is wrong, if his -mistake is pointed out to him. For instance if a man has to add up 5 -+ 7 + 9, we should not wonder that he made the result to be 34, if he -started by making 5 + 7 = 25. And so in Ethics, if we find, as we did, -that ‘desirable’ is confused with ‘desired,’ or that ‘end’ is confused -with ‘means,’ we need not be disconcerted that those who have committed -these mistakes do not agree with us. The only difference is that in -Ethics, owing to the intricacy of its subject-matter, it is far more -difficult to persuade anyone either that he has made a mistake or that -that mistake affects his result. - -In this second division of my subject--the division which is occupied -with the question, ‘What is good in itself?’--I have hitherto only -tried to establish one definite result, and that a negative one: namely -that pleasure is _not_ the sole good. This result, if true, refutes -half, or more than half, of the ethical theories which have ever been -held, and is, therefore, not without importance. It will, however, be -necessary presently to deal positively with the question: What things -are good and in what degrees? - - -=88.= But before proceeding to this discussion I propose, first, to -deal with the _third_ kind of ethical question--the question: What -ought we to do? - -The answering of this question constitutes the third great division -of ethical enquiry; and its nature was briefly explained in Chap. I. -(§§ 15-17). It introduces into Ethics, as was there pointed out, an -entirely new question--the question what things are related as _causes_ -to that which is good in itself; and this question can only be answered -by an entirely new method--the method of empirical investigation; by -means of which causes are discovered in the other sciences. To ask what -kind of actions we ought to perform, or what kind of conduct is right, -is to ask what kind of effects such action and conduct will produce. -Not a single question in practical Ethics can be answered except by a -causal generalisation. All such questions do, indeed, _also_ involve -an ethical judgment proper--the judgment that certain effects are -better, in themselves, than others. But they _do_ assert that these -better things are effects--are causally connected with the actions in -question. Every judgment in practical Ethics may be reduced to the -form: This is a cause of that good thing. - - -=89.= That this is the case, that the questions, What is right? what is -my duty? what ought I to do? belong exclusively to this third branch of -ethical enquiry, is the first point to which I wish to call attention. -All moral laws, I wish to shew, are merely statements that certain -kinds of actions will have good effects. The very opposite of this view -has been generally prevalent in Ethics. ‘The right’ and ‘the useful’ -have been supposed to be at least _capable_ of conflicting with one -another, and, at all events, to be essentially distinct. It has been -characteristic of a certain school of moralists, as of moral common -sense, to declare that the end will never justify the means. What I -wish first to point out is that ‘right’ does and can mean nothing but -‘cause of a good result,’ and is thus identical with ‘useful’; whence -it follows that the end always will justify the means, and that no -action which is not justified by its results can be right. That there -may be a true proposition, meant to be conveyed by the assertion ‘The -end will not justify the means,’ I fully admit: but that, in another -sense, and a sense far more fundamental for ethical theory, it is -utterly false, must first be shewn. - -That the assertion ‘I am morally bound to perform this action’ is -identical with the assertion ‘This action will produce the greatest -possible amount of good in the Universe’ has already been briefly shewn -in Chap. I. (§ 17); but it is important to insist that this fundamental -point is demonstrably certain. This may, perhaps, be best made evident -in the following way. It is plain that when we assert that a certain -action is our absolute duty, we are asserting that the performance of -that action at that time is unique in respect of value. But no dutiful -action can possibly have unique value in the sense that it is the sole -thing of value in the world; since, in that case, _every_ such action -would be the _sole_ good thing, which is a manifest contradiction. -And for the same reason its value cannot be unique in the sense that -it has more intrinsic value than anything else in the world; since -_every_ act of duty would then be the _best_ thing in the world, which -is also a contradiction. It can, therefore, be unique only in the sense -that the whole world will be better, if it be performed, than if any -possible alternative were taken. And the question whether this is so -cannot possibly depend solely on the question of its own intrinsic -value. For any action will also have effects different from those of -any other action; and if any of these have intrinsic value, their value -is exactly as relevant to the total goodness of the Universe as that of -their cause. It is, in fact, evident that, however valuable an action -may be in itself, yet, owing to its existence, the sum of good in the -Universe may conceivably be made less than if some other action, less -valuable in itself, had been performed. But to say that this is the -case is to say that it would have been better that the action should -not have been done; and this again is obviously equivalent to the -statement that it ought not to have been done--that it was not what -duty required. ‘Fiat iustitia, ruat caelum’ can only be justified on -the ground that by the doing of justice the Universe gains more than it -loses by the falling of the heavens. It is, of course, possible that -this is the case: but, at all events, to assert that justice _is_ a -duty, in spite of such consequences, is to assert that it is the case. - -Our ‘duty,’ therefore, can only be defined as that action, which will -cause more good to exist in the Universe than any possible alternative. -And what is ‘right’ or ‘morally permissible’ only differs from this, as -what will _not_ cause _less_ good than any possible alternative. When, -therefore, Ethics presumes to assert that certain ways of acting are -‘duties’ it presumes to assert that to act in those ways will always -produce the greatest possible sum of good. If we are told that to ‘do -no murder’ is a duty, we are told that the action, whatever it may be, -which is called murder, will under no circumstances cause so much good -to exist in the Universe as its avoidance. - - -=90.= But, if this be recognised, several most important consequences -follow, with regard to the relation of Ethics to conduct. - -(1) It is plain that no moral law is self-evident, as has commonly been -held by the Intuitional school of moralists. The Intuitional view of -Ethics consists in the supposition that certain rules, stating that -certain actions are always to be done or to be omitted, may be taken as -self-evident premisses. I have shewn with regard to judgments of what -is _good in itself_, that this is the case; no reason can be given for -them. But it is the essence of Intuitionism to suppose that rules of -action--statements not of what ought to _be_, but of what we ought to -do--are in the same sense intuitively certain. Plausibility has been -lent to this view by the fact that we do undoubtedly make immediate -judgments that certain actions are obligatory or wrong: we are thus -often intuitively certain of our duty, _in a psychological sense_. But, -nevertheless, these judgments are not self-evident and cannot be taken -as ethical premisses, since, as has now been shewn, they are capable of -being confirmed or refuted by an investigation of causes and effects. -It is, indeed, possible that some of our immediate intuitions are true; -but since _what_ we intuit, _what_ conscience tells us, is that certain -actions will always produce the greatest sum of good possible under the -circumstances, it is plain that reasons can be given, which will shew -the deliverances of conscience to be true or false. - - -=91.= (2) In order to shew that any action is a duty, it is necessary -to know both what are the other conditions, which will, conjointly with -it, determine its effects; to know exactly what will be the effects of -these conditions; and to know all the events which will be in any way -affected by our action throughout an infinite future. We must have all -this causal knowledge, and further we must know accurately the degree -of value both of the action itself and of all these effects; and must -be able to determine how, in conjunction with the other things in the -Universe, they will affect its value as an organic whole. And not -only this: we must also possess all this knowledge with regard to the -effects of every possible alternative; and must then be able to see by -comparison that the total value due to the existence of the action in -question will be greater than that which would be produced by any of -these alternatives. But it is obvious that our causal knowledge alone -is far too incomplete for us ever to assure ourselves of this result. -Accordingly it follows that we never have any reason to suppose that an -action is our duty: we can never be sure that any action will produce -the greatest value possible. - -Ethics, therefore, is quite unable to give us a list of duties: -but there still remains a humbler task which may be possible for -Practical Ethics. Although we cannot hope to discover which, in a given -situation, is the best of all possible alternative actions, there may -be some possibility of shewing which among the alternatives, _likely to -occur to any one_, will produce the greatest sum of good. This second -task is certainly all that Ethics can ever have accomplished: and it is -certainly all that it has ever collected materials for proving; since -no one has ever attempted to exhaust the possible alternative actions -in any particular case. Ethical philosophers have in fact confined -their attention to a very limited class of actions, which have been -selected because they are those which most commonly occur to mankind -as possible alternatives. With regard to these they may possibly have -shewn that one alternative is better, _i.e._ produces a greater total -of value, than others. But it seems desirable to insist, that though -they have represented this result as a determination of _duties_, it -can never really have been so. For the term duty is certainly so used -that, if we are subsequently persuaded that any possible action would -have produced more good than the one we adopted, we admit that we -failed to do our duty. It will, however, be a useful task if Ethics can -determine which among alternatives _likely to occur_ will produce the -greatest total value. For, though this alternative cannot be proved to -be the best possible, yet it may be better than any course of action -which we should otherwise adopt. - - -=92.= A difficulty in distinguishing this task, which Ethics may -perhaps undertake with some hope of success, from the hopeless task -of finding duties, arises from an ambiguity in the use of the term -‘possible.’ An action may, in one perfectly legitimate sense, be said -to be ‘impossible’ solely because the idea of doing it does not occur -to us. In this sense, then, the alternatives which do actually occur -to a man would be the only _possible_ alternatives; and the best of -these would be the best possible action under the circumstances, and -hence would conform to our definition of ‘duty.’ But when we talk of -the best _possible_ action as our duty, we mean by the term any action -which no _other_ known circumstance would prevent, _provided_ the idea -of it occurred to us. And this use of the term is in accordance with -popular usage. For we admit that a man may fail to do his duty, through -neglecting to think of what he _might_ have done. Since, therefore, -we say that he _might_ have done, what nevertheless did not occur to -him, it is plain that we do not limit his _possible_ actions to those -of which he thinks. It might be urged, with more plausibility, that we -mean by a man’s duty only the best of those actions of which he _might_ -have thought. And it is true that we do not blame any man very severely -for omitting an action of which, as we say, ‘he could not be expected -to think.’ But even here it is plain that we recognise a distinction -between what he might have done and what he might have thought of -doing: we regard it as a pity that he did not do otherwise. And ‘duty’ -is certainly used in such a sense, that it would be a contradiction in -terms to say it was a pity that a man did his duty. - -We must, therefore, distinguish a possible action from an action of -which it is possible to think. By the former we mean an action which -no known cause would prevent, _provided_ the idea of it occurred to -us: and that one among such actions, which will produce the greatest -total good, is what we mean by duty. Ethics certainly cannot hope to -discover what kind of action is always our duty in this sense. It may, -however, hope to decide which among one or two such possible actions is -the best: and those which it has chosen to consider are, as a matter of -fact, the most important of those with regard to which men deliberate -whether they shall or shall not do them. A decision with regard to -these may therefore be easily confounded with a decision with regard -to which is the best possible action. But it is to be noted that even -though we limit ourselves to considering which is the better among -alternatives likely to be thought of, the fact that these alternatives -might be thought of is not included is what we mean by calling them -possible alternatives. Even if in any particular case it was impossible -that the idea of them should have occurred to a man, the question we -are concerned with is, which, if it had occurred, would have been the -best alternative? If we say that murder is always a worse alternative, -we mean to assert that it is so, even where it was impossible for the -murderer to think of doing anything else. - -The utmost, then, that Practical Ethics can hope to discover is which, -among a few alternatives possible under certain circumstances, will, on -the whole, produce the best result. It may tell us which is the best, -in this sense, of certain alternatives about which we are likely to -deliberate; and since we may also know that, even if we choose none of -these, what we shall, in that case, do is unlikely to be as good as one -of them, it may thus tell us which of the alternatives, among which -we _can_ choose, it is best to choose. If it could do this it would be -sufficient for practical guidance. - - -=93.= But (3) it is plain that even this is a task of immense -difficulty. It is difficult to see how we can establish even a -probability that by doing one thing we shall obtain a better total -result than by doing another. I shall merely endeavour to point out how -much is assumed, when we assume that there is such a probability, and -on what lines it seems possible that this assumption may be justified. -It will be apparent that it has never yet been justified--that no -sufficient reason has ever yet been found for considering one action -more right or more wrong than another. - -(_a_) The first difficulty in the way of establishing a probability -that one course of action will give a better total result than another, -lies in the fact that we have to take account of the effects of both -throughout an infinite future. We have no certainty but that, if we -do one action now, the Universe will, throughout all time, differ in -some way from what it would have been, if we had done another; and, -if there is such a permanent difference, it is certainly relevant to -our calculation. But it is quite certain that our causal knowledge is -utterly insufficient to tell us what different effects will probably -result from two different actions, except within a comparatively short -space of time; we can certainly only pretend to calculate the effects -of actions within what may be called an ‘immediate’ future. No one, -when he proceeds upon what he considers a rational consideration of -effects, would guide his choice by any forecast that went beyond a few -centuries at most; and, in general, we consider that we have acted -rationally, if we think we have secured a balance of good within a few -years or months or days. Yet, if a choice guided by such considerations -is to be rational, we must certainly have some reason to believe that -no consequences of our action in a further future will generally be -such as to reverse the balance of good that is probable in the future -which we can foresee. This large postulate must be made, if we are -ever to assert that the results of one action will be even probably -better than those of another. Our utter ignorance of the far future -gives us no justification for saying that it is even probably right -to choose the greater good within the region over which a probable -forecast may extend. We do, then, assume that it is improbable that -effects, after a certain time, will, in general, be such as to reverse -the comparative value of the alternative results within that time. And -that this assumption is justified must be shewn before we can claim -to have given any reason whatever for acting in one way rather than -in another. It may, perhaps, be justified by some such considerations -as the following. As we proceed further and further from the time at -which alternative actions are open to us, the events of which either -action would be part cause become increasingly dependent on those -other circumstances, which are the same, whichever action we adopt. -The effects of any individual action seem, after a sufficient space of -time, to be found only in trifling modifications spread over a very -wide area, whereas its immediate effects consist in some prominent -modification of a comparatively narrow area. Since, however, most -of the things which have any great importance for good or evil are -things of this prominent kind, there may be a probability that after -a certain time all the effects of any particular action become so -nearly indifferent, that any difference between their value and that -of the effects of another action, is very unlikely to outweigh an -obvious difference in the value of the immediate effects. It does in -fact appear to be the case that, in most cases, whatever action we now -adopt, ‘it will be all the same a hundred years hence,’ so far as the -existence at that time of anything greatly good or bad is concerned: -and this might, perhaps, be _shewn_ to be true, by an investigation -of the manner in which the effects of any particular event become -neutralised by lapse of time. Failing such a proof, we can certainly -have no rational ground for asserting that one of two alternatives is -even probably right and another wrong. If any of our judgments of right -and wrong are to pretend to probability, we must have reason to think -that the effects of our actions in the far future will not have value -sufficient to outweigh any superiority of one set of effects over -another in the immediate future. - - -=94.= (_b_) We must assume, then, that if the effects of one action are -generally better than those of another, so far forward in the future as -we are able to foresee any probable difference in their effects at all, -then the total effect upon the Universe of the former action is also -generally better. We certainly cannot hope directly to compare their -effects except within a limited future; and all the arguments, which -have ever been used in Ethics, and upon which we commonly act in common -life, directed to shewing that one course is superior to another, are -(apart from theological dogmas) confined to pointing out such probable -immediate advantages. The question remains, then: Can we lay down any -general rules to the effect that one among a few alternative actions -will generally produce a greater total of good in the immediate future? - -It is important to insist that this question, limited as it is, is the -utmost, to which, with any knowledge we have at present or are likely -to have for a long time to come, Practical Ethics can hope to give an -answer. I have already pointed out that we cannot hope to discover -which is the _best_ possible alternative in any given circumstances, -but only which, among a few, is better than the others. And I have also -pointed out that there is certainly no more than a probability, even -if we are entitled to assert so much, that what is better in regard to -its immediate effects will also be better on the whole. It now remains -to insist that, even with regard to these immediate effects, we can -only hope to discover which, among a few alternatives, will _generally_ -produce the greatest balance of good in the immediate future. We can -secure no title to assert that obedience to such commands as ‘Thou -shalt not lie,’ or even ‘Thou shalt do no murder,’ is _universally_ -better than the alternatives of lying and murder. Reasons why no more -than a _general_ knowledge is possible have been already given in Chap. -I. (§ 16); but they may be recapitulated here. In the first place, -of the effects, which principally concern us in ethical discussions, -as having intrinsic value, we know the causes so little, that we can -scarcely claim, with regard to any single one, to have obtained even -a _hypothetical_ universal law, such as has been obtained in the exact -sciences. We cannot even say: If this action is performed, under -exactly these circumstances, and if no others interfere, this important -effect, at least, will _always_ be produced. But, in the second -place, an ethical law is not merely hypothetical. If we are to know -that it will always be better to act in a certain way, under certain -circumstances, we must know not merely what effects such actions will -produce, _provided_ no other circumstances interfere, but also that no -other circumstances will interfere. And this it is obviously impossible -to know with more than probability. An ethical law has the nature not -of a scientific law but of a scientific _prediction_: and the latter is -always merely probable, although the probability may be very great. An -engineer is entitled to assert that, if a bridge be built in a certain -way, it will probably bear certain loads for a certain time; but he can -never be absolutely certain that it has been built in the way required, -nor that, even if it has, some accident will not intervene to falsify -his prediction. With any ethical law, the same must be the case; it can -be no more than a generalisation: and here, owing to the comparative -absence of accurate hypothetical knowledge, on which the prediction -should be based, the probability is comparatively small. But finally, -for an ethical generalisation, we require to know not only what effects -will be produced, but also what are the comparative values of those -effects; and on this question too, it must be admitted, considering -what a prevalent opinion Hedonism has been, that we are very liable to -be mistaken. It is plain, then, that we are not soon likely to know -more than that one kind of action will _generally_ produce better -effects than another; and that more than this has certainly never been -proved. In no two cases will _all_ the effects of any kind of action be -precisely the same, because in each case some of the circumstances will -differ; and although the effects, that are important for good or evil, -may be generally the same, it is extremely unlikely that they will -always be so. - - -=95.= (_c_) If, now, we confine ourselves to a search for actions which -are _generally_ better as means than any probable alternative, it -seems possible to establish as much as this in defence of most of the -rules most universally recognised by Common Sense. I do not propose to -enter upon this defence in detail, but merely to point out what seem to -be the chief distinct principles by the use of which it can be made. - -In the first place, then, we can only shew that one action is -generally better than another as a means, provided that certain other -circumstances are given. We do, as a matter of fact, only observe its -good effects under certain circumstances; and it may be easily seen -that a sufficient change in these would render doubtful what seem the -most universally certain of general rules. Thus, the general disutility -of murder can only be proved, provided the majority of the human race -will certainly persist in existing. In order to prove that murder, if -it were so universally adopted as to cause the speedy extermination of -the race, would not be good as a means, we should have to disprove the -main contention of pessimism--namely that the existence of human life -is on the whole an evil. And the view of pessimism, however strongly we -may be convinced of its truth or falsehood, is one which never has been -either proved or refuted conclusively. That universal murder would not -be a good thing at this moment can therefore not be proved. But, as a -matter of fact, we can and do assume with certainty that, even if a few -people are willing to murder, most people will not be willing. When, -therefore, we say that murder is in general to be avoided, we only -mean that it is so, so long as the majority of mankind will certainly -not agree to it, but will persist in living. And that, under these -circumstances, it is generally wrong for any single person to commit -murder seems capable of proof. For, since there is in any case no hope -of exterminating the race, the only effects which we have to consider -are those which the action will have upon the increase of the goods -and the diminution of the evils of human life. Where the best is not -attainable (assuming extermination to be the best) one alternative may -still be better than another. And, apart from the immediate evils which -murder generally produces, the fact that, if it were a common practice, -the feeling of insecurity, thus caused, would absorb much time, which -might be spent to better purpose, is perhaps conclusive against it. So -long as men desire to live as strongly as they do, and so long as it is -certain that they will continue to do so, anything which hinders them -from devoting their energy to the attainment of positive goods, seems -plainly bad as a means. And the general practice of murder, falling so -far short of universality as it certainly must in all known conditions -of society, seems certainly to be a hindrance of this kind. - -A similar defence seems possible for most of the rules, most -universally enforced by legal sanctions, such as respect of property; -and for some of those most commonly recognised by Common Sense, such -as industry, temperance and the keeping of promises. In any state of -society in which men have that intense desire for property of some -sort, which seems to be universal, the common legal rules for the -protection of property must serve greatly to facilitate the best -possible expenditure of energy. And similarly: Industry is a means -to the attainment of those necessaries, without which the further -attainment of any great positive goods is impossible; temperance merely -enjoins the avoidance of those excesses, which, by injuring health, -would prevent a man from contributing as much as possible to the -acquirement of these necessaries; and the keeping of promises greatly -facilitates cooperation in such acquirement. - -Now all these rules seem to have two characteristics to which it is -desirable to call attention. (1) They seem all to be such that, in any -known state of society, a _general_ observance of them _would_ be good -as a means. The conditions upon which their utility depends, namely the -tendency to preserve and propagate life and the desire of property, -seem to be so universal and so strong, that it would be impossible to -remove them; and, this being so, we can say that, under any conditions -which could actually be given, the general observance of these rules -would be good as a means. For, while there seems no reason to think -that their observance ever makes a society worse than one in which they -are not observed, it is certainly necessary as a means for any state of -things in which the greatest possible goods can be attained. And (2) -these rules, since they can be recommended as a means to that which is -itself only a necessary condition for the existence of any great good, -can be defended independently of correct views upon the primary ethical -question of what is good in itself. On any view commonly taken, it -seems certain that the preservation of civilised society, which these -rules are necessary to effect, is necessary for the existence, in any -great degree, of anything which may be held to be good in itself. - - -=96.= But not by any means all the rules commonly recognised combine -these two characteristics. The arguments offered in defence of Common -Sense morality very often presuppose the existence of conditions, -which cannot be fairly assumed to be so universally necessary as the -tendency to continue life and to desire property. Such arguments, -accordingly, only prove the utility of the rule, so long as certain -conditions, which may alter, remain the same: it cannot be claimed of -the rules thus defended, that they would be generally good as means in -every state of society: in order to establish this _universal_ general -utility, it would be necessary to arrive at a correct view of what is -good or evil in itself. This, for instance, seems to be the case with -most of the rules comprehended under the name of Chastity. These rules -are commonly defended, by Utilitarian writers or writers who assume as -their end the conservation of society, with arguments which presuppose -the necessary existence of such sentiments as conjugal jealousy and -paternal affection. These sentiments are no doubt sufficiently strong -and general to make the defence valid for many conditions of society. -But it is not difficult to imagine a civilised society existing without -them; and, in such a case, if chastity were still to be defended, -it would be necessary to establish that its violation produced evil -effects, other than those due to the assumed tendency of such violation -to disintegrate society. Such a defence may, no doubt, be made; but it -would require an examination into the primary ethical question of what -is good and bad in itself, far more thorough than any ethical writer -has ever offered to us. Whether this be so in this particular case or -not, it is certain that a distinction, not commonly recognised, should -be made between those rules, of which the social utility depends upon -the existence of circumstances, more or less likely to alter, and those -of which the utility seems certain under all possible conditions. - - -=97.= It is obvious that all the rules, which were enumerated above as -likely to be useful in _almost any_ state of society, can _also_ be -defended owing to results which they produce under conditions which -exist only in particular states of society. And it should be noticed -that we are entitled to reckon among these conditions the sanctions of -legal penalties, of social disapproval, and of private remorse, where -these exist. These sanctions are, indeed, commonly treated by Ethics -only as motives for the doing of actions of which the utility can be -proved independently of the existence of these sanctions. And it may -be admitted that sanctions _ought_ not to be attached to actions which -would not be right independently. Nevertheless it is plain that, where -they do exist, they are not only motives but also justifications for -the actions in question. One of the chief reasons why an action should -not be done in any particular state of society is that it will be -punished; since the punishment is in general itself a greater evil than -would have been caused by the omission of the action punished. Thus -the existence of a punishment may be an adequate reason for regarding -an action as generally wrong, even though it has no other bad effects -but even slightly good ones. The fact that an action will be punished -is a condition of exactly the same kind as others of more or less -permanence, which must be taken into account in discussing the general -utility or disutility of an action in a particular state of society. - - -=98.= It is plain, then, that the rules commonly recognised by Common -Sense, in the society in which we live, and commonly advocated as if -they were all equally and universally right and good, are of very -different orders. Even those which seem to be most universally good -as means, can only be shewn to be so, because of the existence of -conditions, which, though perhaps evils, may be taken to be necessary; -and even these owe their more obvious utilities to the existence of -other conditions, which cannot be taken to be necessary except over -longer or shorter periods of history, and many of which are evils. -Others seem to be justifiable _solely_ by the existence of such more or -less temporary conditions, unless we abandon the attempt to shew that -they are means to that preservation of society, which is itself a mere -means, and are able to establish that they are directly means to things -good or evil in themselves, but which are not commonly recognised to be -such. - -If, then, we ask what rules are or would be useful to be observed in -the society in which we live, it seems possible to prove a definite -utility in most of those which are in general both recognised and -practised. But a great part of ordinary moral exhortation and social -discussion consists in the advocating of rules, which are _not_ -generally practised; and with regard to these it seems very doubtful -whether a case for their general utility can ever be conclusively made -out. Such proposed rules commonly suffer from three main defects. In -the first place, (1) the actions which they advocate are very commonly -such as it is impossible for most individuals to perform by any -volition. It is far too usual to find classed together with actions, -which can be performed, if only they be willed, others, of which the -possibility depends upon the possession of a peculiar disposition, -which is given to few and cannot even be acquired. It may, no doubt, -be useful to point out that those who have the necessary disposition -should obey these rules; and it would, in many cases, be desirable that -everybody should have this disposition. But it should be recognised -that, when we regard a thing as a moral rule or law, we mean that it -is one which _almost everybody can_ observe by an effort of volition, -in that state of society to which the rule is supposed to apply. (2) -Actions are often advocated, of which, though they themselves are -possible, yet the proposed good effects are not possible, because the -conditions necessary for their existence are not sufficiently general. -A rule, of which the observance would produce good effects, if human -nature were in other respects different from what it is, is advocated -as if its general observance would produce the same effects now and -at once. In fact, however, by the time that the conditions necessary -to make its observance useful have arisen, it is quite as likely that -other conditions, rendering its observance unnecessary or positively -harmful, may also have arisen; and yet this state of things may be a -better one than that in which the rule in question would have been -useful. (3) There also occurs the case in which the usefulness of a -rule depends upon conditions likely to change, or of which the change -would be as easy and more desirable than the observance of the proposed -rule. It may even happen that the general observance of the proposed -rule would itself destroy the conditions upon which its utility depends. - -One or other of these objections seems generally to apply to proposed -changes in social custom, advocated as being better rules to follow -than those now actually followed; and, for this reason, it seems -doubtful whether Ethics can establish the utility of any rules -other than those generally practised. But its inability to do so is -fortunately of little practical moment. The question whether the -general observance of a rule not generally observed, would or would not -be desirable, cannot much affect the question how any individual ought -to act; since, on the one hand, there is a large probability that he -will not, by any means, be able to bring about its general observance, -and, on the other hand, the fact that its general observance would -be useful could, in any case, give him no reason to conclude that he -himself ought to observe it, in the absence of such general observance. - -With regard, then, to the actions commonly classed in Ethics, as -duties, crimes, or sins, the following points seem deserving of notice. -(1) By so classing them we mean that they are actions which it is -possible for an individual to perform or avoid, if he only _wills_ to -do so; and that they are actions which _everybody_ ought to perform -or avoid, when occasion arises. (2) We can certainly not prove of -any such action that it ought to be done or avoided under _all_ -circumstances; we can only prove that its performance or avoidance will -_generally_ produce better results than the alternative. (3) If further -we ask of what actions as much as this can be proved, it seems only -possible to prove it with regard to those which are actually generally -practised among us. And of these some only are such that their general -performance would be useful in any state of society that seems -possible; of others the utility depends upon conditions which exist -now, but which seem to be more or less alterable. - - -=99.= (_d_) So much, then, for moral rules or laws, in the ordinary -sense--rules which assert that it is generally useful, under more or -less common circumstances, for _everybody_ to perform or omit some -definite kind of action. It remains to say something with regard to the -principles by which _the individual_ should decide what he ought to -do, (α) with regard to those actions as to which some general rule is -certainly true, and (β) with regard to those where such a certain rule -is wanting. - -(α) Since, as I have tried to shew, it is impossible to establish -that any kind of action will produce a better total result than -its alternative _in all cases_, it follows that in some cases the -neglect of an established rule will probably be the best course of -action possible. The question then arises: Can the individual ever be -justified in assuming that his is one of these exceptional cases? And -it seems that this question may be definitely answered in the negative. -For, if it is certain that in a large majority of cases the observance -of a certain rule is useful, it follows that there is a large -probability that it would be wrong to break the rule in any particular -case; and the uncertainty of our knowledge both of effects and of their -value, in particular cases, is so great, that it seems doubtful whether -the individual’s judgment that the effects will probably be good in -his case can ever be set against the general probability that that -kind of action is wrong. Added to this general ignorance is the fact -that, if the question arises at all, our judgment will generally be -biassed by the fact that we strongly desire one of the results which we -hope to obtain by breaking the rule. It seems, then, that with regard -to any rule which is _generally_ useful, we may assert that it ought -_always_ to be observed, not on the ground that in _every_ particular -case it will be useful, but on the ground that in _any_ particular -case the probability of its being so is greater than that of our being -likely to decide rightly that we have before us an instance of its -disutility. In short, though we may be sure that there are cases where -the rule should be broken, we can never know which those cases are, -and ought, therefore, never to break it. It is this fact which seems -to justify the stringency with which moral rules are usually enforced -and sanctioned, and to give a sense in which we may accept as true the -maxims that ‘The end never justifies the means’ and ‘That we should -never do evil that good may come.’ The ‘means’ and the ‘evil,’ intended -by these maxims, are, in fact, the breaking of moral rules generally -recognised and practised, and which, therefore, we may assume to be -generally useful. Thus understood, these maxims merely point out that, -in any particular case, although we cannot clearly perceive any balance -of good produced by keeping the rule and do seem to see one that would -follow from breaking it, nevertheless the rule should be observed. It -is hardly necessary to point out that this is so only because it is -certain that, in general, the end does justify the means in question, -and that therefore there is a _probability_ that in this case it will -do so also, although we cannot see that it will. - -But moreover the universal observance of a rule which is generally -useful has, in many cases, a special utility, which seems deserving of -notice. This arises from the fact that, even if we can clearly discern -that our case is one where to break the rule is advantageous, yet, so -far as our example has any effect at all in encouraging similar action, -it will certainly tend to encourage breaches of the rule which are not -advantageous. We may confidently assume that what will impress the -imagination of others will not be the circumstances in which our case -differs from ordinary cases and which justify our exceptional action, -but the points in which it resembles other actions that are really -criminal. In cases, then, where example has any influence at all, the -effect of an exceptional right action will generally be to encourage -wrong ones. And this effect will probably be exercised not only on -other persons but on the agent himself. For it is impossible for any -one to keep his intellect and sentiments so clear, but that, if he has -once approved of a generally wrong action, he will be more likely to -approve of it also under other circumstances than those which justified -it in the first instance. This inability to discriminate exceptional -cases offers, of course, a still stronger reason for the universal -enforcement, by legal or social sanctions, of actions generally useful. -It is undoubtedly well to punish a man, who has done an action, right -in his case but generally wrong, even if his example would not be -likely to have a dangerous effect. For sanctions have, in general, -much more influence upon conduct than example; so that the effect -of relaxing them in an exceptional case will almost certainly be an -encouragement of similar action in cases which are not exceptional. - -The individual can therefore be confidently recommended _always_ -to conform to rules which are both generally useful and generally -practised. In the case of rules of which the general observance _would_ -be useful but does not exist, or of rules which are generally practised -but which are not useful, no such universal recommendations can be -made. In many cases the sanctions attached may be decisive in favour -of conformity to the existing custom. But it seems worth pointing out -that, even apart from these, the general utility of an action most -commonly depends upon the fact that it is generally practised: in a -society where certain kinds of theft are the common rule, the utility -of abstinence from such theft on the part of a single individual -becomes exceedingly doubtful, even though the common rule is a bad one. -There is, therefore, a strong probability in favour of adherence to an -existing custom, even if it be a bad one. But we cannot, in this case, -assert with any confidence that this probability is always greater -than that of the individual’s power to judge that an exception will be -useful; since we are here supposing certain one relevant fact--namely, -that the rule, which he proposes to follow, _would_ be better than -that which he proposes to break, _if_ it were generally observed. -Consequently the effect of his example, so far as it tends to break -down the existing custom, will here be for the good. The cases, where -another rule would certainly be better than that generally observed, -are, however, according to what was said above, very rare; and cases of -doubt, which are those which arise most frequently, carry us into the -next division of our subject. - - -=100.= (β) This next division consists in the discussion of the -method by which an individual should decide what to do with regard to -possible actions of which the general utility cannot be proved. And -it should be observed, that, according to our previous conclusions, -this discussion will cover almost all actions, except those which, -in our present state of society, are generally practised. For it has -been urged that a proof of general utility is so difficult, that it -can hardly be conclusive except in a very few cases. It is certainly -not possible with regard to all actions which _are_ generally -practised; though here, if the sanctions are sufficiently strong, -they are sufficient by themselves to prove the general utility of the -individual’s conformity to custom. And if it is possible to prove a -general utility in the case of some actions, _not_ generally practised, -it is certainly not possible to do so by the ordinary method, which -tries to shew in them a tendency to that preservation of society, which -is itself a mere means, but only by the method, by which in any case, -as will be urged, the individual ought to guide his judgment--namely, -by shewing their direct tendency to produce what is good in itself or -to prevent what is bad. - -The extreme improbability that any general rule with regard to the -utility of an action will be correct seems, in fact, to be the chief -principle which should be taken into account in discussing how the -individual should guide his choice. If we except those rules which are -both generally practised and strongly sanctioned among us, there seem -to be hardly any of such a kind that equally good arguments cannot be -found both for and against them. The most that can be said for the -contradictory principles which are urged by moralists of different -schools as universal duties, is, in general, that they point out -actions which, for persons of a particular character and in particular -circumstances, would and do lead to a balance of good. It is, no -doubt, possible that the particular dispositions and circumstances -which generally render certain kinds of action advisable, might to -some degree be formulated. But it is certain that this has never -yet been done; and it is important to notice that, even if it were -done, it would not give us, what moral laws are usually supposed to -be--rules which it would be desirable for every one, or even for most -people, to follow. Moralists commonly assume that, in the matter of -actions or habits of action, usually recognised as duties or virtues, -it is desirable that every one should be alike. Whereas it is certain -that, under actual circumstances, and possible that, even in a much -more ideal condition of things, the principle of division of labour, -according to special capacity, which is recognised in respect of -employments, would also give a better result in respect of virtues. - -It seems, therefore, that, in cases of doubt, instead of following -rules, of which he is unable to see the good effects in his particular -case, the individual should rather guide his choice by a direct -consideration of the intrinsic value or vileness of the effects -which his action may produce. Judgments of intrinsic value have this -superiority over judgments of means that, if once true, they are always -true; whereas what is a means to a good effect in one case, will not -be so in another. For this reason the department of Ethics, which it -would be most useful to elaborate for practical guidance, is that -which discusses what things have intrinsic value and in what degrees; -and this is precisely that department which has been most uniformly -neglected, in favour of attempts to formulate rules of conduct. - -We have, however, not only to consider the relative goodness of -different effects, but also the relative probability of their being -attained. A less good, that is more likely to be attained, is to be -preferred to a greater, that is less probable, if the difference in -probability is great enough to outweigh the difference in goodness. -And this fact seems to entitle us to assert the general truth of three -principles, which ordinary moral rules are apt to neglect. (1) That -a lesser good, for which any individual has a strong preference (if -only it be a good, and not an evil), is more likely to be a proper -object for him to aim at, than a greater one, which he is unable to -appreciate. For natural inclination renders it immensely more easy to -attain that for which such inclination is felt. (2) Since almost every -one has a much stronger preference for things which closely concern -himself, it will in general be right for a man to aim rather at goods -affecting himself and those in whom he has a strong personal interest, -than to attempt a more extended beneficence. Egoism is undoubtedly -superior to Altruism as a doctrine of means: in the immense majority of -cases the best thing we can do is to aim at securing some good in which -we are concerned, since for that very reason we are far more likely to -secure it. (3) Goods, which can be secured in a future so near as to be -called ‘the present,’ are in general to be preferred to those which, -being in a further future, are, for that reason, far less certain of -attainment. If we regard all that we do from the point of view of -its rightness, that is to say as a mere means to good, we are apt to -neglect one fact, at least, which is certain; namely, that a thing that -is really good in itself, if it exist now, has precisely the same value -as a thing of the same kind which may be caused to exist in the future. -Moreover moral rules, as has been said, are, in general, not directly -means to positive goods but to what is necessary for the existence of -positive goods; and so much of our labour must in any case be devoted -to securing the continuance of what is thus a mere means--the claims of -industry and attention to health determine the employment of so large -a part of our time, that, in cases where choice is open, the certain -attainment of a present good will in general have the strongest claims -upon us. If it were not so, the whole of life would be spent in merely -assuring its continuance; and, so far as the same rule were continued -in the future, that for the sake of which it is worth having, would -never exist at all. - - -=101.= (4) A fourth conclusion, which follows from the fact that what -is ‘right’ or what is our ‘duty’ must in any case be defined as what is -a means to good, is, as was pointed out above (§ 89), that the common -distinction between these and the ‘expedient’ or ‘useful,’ disappears. -Our ‘duty’ is merely that which will be a means to the best possible, -and the expedient, if it is really expedient, must be just the same. We -cannot distinguish them by saying that the former is something which -we ought to do, whereas of the latter we cannot say we ‘_ought_.’ In -short the two concepts are not, as is commonly assumed by all except -Utilitarian moralists, simple concepts ultimately distinct. There is -no such distinction in Ethics. The only fundamental distinction is -between what is good in itself and what is good as a means, the latter -of which implies the former. But it has been shewn that the distinction -between ‘duty’ and ‘expediency’ does not correspond to this: both -must be defined as means to good, though both _may also_ be ends in -themselves. The question remains, then: What is the distinction between -duty and expediency? - -One distinction to which these distinct words refer is plain -enough. Certain classes of action commonly excite the specifically -moral sentiments, whereas other classes do not. And the word -‘duty’ is commonly applied only to the class of actions which -excite moral approval, or of which the omission excites moral -disapproval--especially to the latter. Why this moral sentiment should -have become attached to some kinds of actions and not to others is -a question which can certainly not yet be answered; but it may be -observed that we have no reason to think that the actions to which -it was attached were or are, in all cases, such as aided or aid the -survival of a race: it was probably originally attached to many -religious rites and ceremonies which had not the smallest utility in -this respect. It appears, however, that, among us, the classes of -action to which it is attached also have two other characteristics in -enough cases to have influenced the meaning of the words ‘duty’ and -‘expediency.’ One of these is that ‘duties’ are, in general, actions -which a considerable number of individuals are strongly tempted to -omit. The second is that the omission of a ‘duty’ generally entails -consequences markedly disagreeable to _some one else_. The first of -these is a more universal characteristic than the second: since the -disagreeable effects on other people of the ‘self-regarding duties,’ -prudence and temperance, are not so marked as those on the future -of the agent himself; whereas the temptations to imprudence and -intemperance are very strong. Still, on the whole, the class of actions -called duties exhibit both characteristics: they are not only actions, -against the performance of which there are strong natural inclinations, -but also actions of which the most obvious effects, commonly considered -goods, are effects on other people. Expedient actions, on the other -hand, are actions to which strong natural inclinations prompt us -almost universally, and of which all the most obvious effects, commonly -considered good, are effects upon the agent. We may then roughly -distinguish ‘duties’ from expedient actions, as actions with regard to -which there is a moral sentiment, which we are often tempted to omit, -and of which the most obvious effects are effects upon others than the -agent. - -But it is to be noticed that none of these characteristics, by which -a ‘duty’ is distinguished from an expedient action, gives us any -reason to infer that the former class of actions are more useful than -the latter--that they tend to produce a greater balance of good. -Nor, when we ask the question, ‘Is this my duty?’ do we mean to ask -whether the action in question has these characteristics: we are asking -simply whether it will produce the best possible result on the whole. -And if we asked this question with regard to expedient actions, we -should quite as often have to answer it in the affirmative as when we -ask it with regard to actions which have the three characteristics -of ‘duties.’ It is true that when we ask the question, ‘Is this -expedient?’ we are asking a different question--namely, whether it will -have certain kinds of effect, with regard to which we do not enquire -whether they are good or not. Nevertheless, if it should be doubted -in any particular case whether these effects were good, this doubt is -understood as throwing doubt upon the action’s expediency: if we are -required to _prove_ an action’s expediency, we can only do so by asking -precisely the same question by which we should prove it a duty--namely, -‘Has it the best possible effects on the whole?’ - -Accordingly the question whether an action is a duty or merely -expedient, is one which has no bearing on the ethical question whether -we ought to do it. In the sense in which either duty or expediency -are taken as ultimate _reasons_ for doing an action, they are taken -in exactly the same sense: if I ask whether an action is _really_ my -duty or _really_ expedient, the predicate of which I question the -applicability to the action in question is precisely the same. In both -cases I am asking, ‘Is this event the best on the whole that I can -effect?’; and whether the event in question be some effect upon what -is _mine_ (as it usually is, where we talk of expediency) or some other -event (as is usual, where we talk of duty), this distinction has no -more relevance to my answer than the distinction between two different -effects on me or two different effects on others. The true distinction -between duties and expedient actions is not that the former are actions -which it is in any sense more useful or obligatory or better to -perform, but that they are actions which it is more useful to praise -and to enforce by sanctions, since they are actions which there is a -temptation to omit. - - -=102.= With regard to ‘interested’ actions, the case is somewhat -different. When we ask the question, ‘Is this really to my interest?’ -we appear to be asking exclusively whether its _effects upon me_ are -the best possible; and it may well happen that what will effect me in -the manner, which is really the best possible, will not produce the -best possible results on the whole. Accordingly _my true interest_ may -be different from the course which is really expedient and dutiful. To -assert that an action is ‘to my interest,’ is, indeed, as was pointed -out in Chap. III. (§§ 59-61), to assert that its effects are really -good. ‘My own good’ only denotes some event affecting me, which is good -absolutely and objectively; it is the thing, and not its goodness, -which is _mine_; everything must be either ‘a part of universal good’ -or else not good at all; there is no third alternative conception -‘good for me.’ But ‘my interest,’ though it must be something truly -good, is only one among possible good effects; and hence, by effecting -it, though we shall be doing _some_ good, we may be doing less good -on the whole, than if we had acted otherwise. Self-sacrifice may be a -real duty; just as the sacrifice of any single good, whether affecting -ourselves or others, may be necessary in order to obtain a better -total result. Hence the fact that an action is really to my interest, -can never be a sufficient reason for doing it: by shewing that it is -not a means to the best possible, we do not shew that it is not to my -interest, as we do shew that it is not expedient. Nevertheless there is -no necessary conflict between duty and interest: what is to my interest -may also be a means to the best possible. And the chief distinction -conveyed by the distinct words ‘duty’ and ‘interest’ seems to be not -this source of possible conflict, but the same which is conveyed by -the contrast between ‘duty’ and ‘expediency.’ By ‘interested’ actions -are _mainly_ meant those which, whether a means to the best possible -or not, are such as have their most obvious effects on the agent; -which he generally has no temptation to omit; and with regard to which -we feel no moral sentiment. That is to say, the distinction is not -primarily ethical. Here too ‘duties’ are not, in general, more useful -or obligatory than interested actions; they are only actions which it -is more useful to praise. - - -=103.= (5) A fifth conclusion, of some importance, in relation to -Practical Ethics concerns the manner in which ‘virtues’ are to be -judged. What is meant by calling a thing a ‘virtue’? - -There can be no doubt that Aristotle’s definition is right, in the -main, so far as he says that it is an ‘habitual disposition’ to -perform certain actions: this is one of the marks by which we should -distinguish a virtue from other things. But ‘virtue’ and ‘vice’ are -also ethical terms: that is to say, when we use them seriously, we mean -to convey praise by the one and dispraise by the other. And to praise -a thing is to assert either that it is good in itself or else that it -is a means to good. Are we then to include in our definition of virtue -that it must be a thing good in itself? - -Now it is certain that virtues are commonly regarded as good in -themselves. The feeling of moral approbation with which we generally -regard them partly consists in an attribution to them of intrinsic -value. Even a Hedonist, when he feels a moral sentiment towards -them, is regarding them as good-in-themselves; and Virtue has been -the chief competitor with Pleasure for the position of _sole_ good. -Nevertheless I do not think we can regard it as part of the definition -of virtue that it should be good in itself. For the name has so far -an independent meaning, that if in any particular case a disposition -commonly considered virtuous were proved not to be good in itself, we -should not think that a sufficient reason for saying that it _was_ not -a virtue but was only _thought_ to be so. The test for the ethical -connotation of virtue is the same as that for duty: What should we -require to be proved about a particular instance, in order to say -that the name was wrongly applied to it? And the test which is thus -applied both to virtues and duties, and considered to be final, is the -question: Is it a means to good? If it could be shewn of any particular -disposition, commonly considered virtuous, that it was generally -harmful, we should at once say: Then it is not really virtuous. -Accordingly a virtue may be defined as an habitual disposition to -perform certain actions, which generally produce the best possible -results. Nor is there any doubt as to the kind of actions which it is -‘virtuous’ habitually to perform. They are, in general, those which -are duties, with this modification that we also include those which -_would_ be duties, if only it were possible for people in general to -perform them. Accordingly with regard to virtues, the same conclusion -holds as with regard to duties. If they are really virtues they must be -generally good as means; nor do I wish to dispute that most virtues, -commonly considered as such, as well as most duties, really are means -to good. But it does not follow that they are a bit more useful than -those dispositions and inclinations which lead us to perform interested -actions. As duties from expedient actions, so virtues are distinguished -from other useful dispositions, not by any superior utility, but by the -fact that they are dispositions, which it is particularly useful to -praise and to sanction, because there are strong and common temptations -to neglect the actions to which they lead. - -Virtues, therefore, are habitual dispositions to perform actions which -are duties, or which would be duties if a volition were sufficient on -the part of most men to ensure their performance. And duties are a -particular class of those actions, of which the performance has, at -least generally, better total results than the omission. They are, that -is to say, actions generally good as means: but not all such actions -are duties; the name is confined to that particular class which it is -often difficult to perform, because there are strong temptations to the -contrary. It follows that in order to decide whether any particular -disposition or action is a virtue or a duty, we must face all the -difficulties enumerated in section (3) of this chapter. We shall -not be entitled to assert that any disposition or action is a virtue -or duty except as a result of an investigation, such as was there -described. We must be able to prove that the disposition or action in -question is generally better as a means than any alternatives possible -and likely to occur; and this we shall only be able to prove for -particular states of society: what is a virtue or a duty in one state -of society may not be so in another. - - -=104.= But there is another question with regard to virtues and duties -which must be settled by intuition alone--by the properly guarded -method which was explained in discussing Hedonism. This is the question -whether the dispositions and actions, commonly regarded (rightly or -not) as virtues or duties, are good in themselves; whether they have -intrinsic value. Virtue or the exercise of virtue has very commonly -been asserted by moralists to be either the sole good, or, at least, -the best of goods. Indeed, so far as moralists have discussed the -question what is good in itself at all, they have generally assumed -that it must be either virtue or pleasure. It would hardly have been -possible that such a gross difference of opinion should exist, or that -it should have been assumed the discussion _must_ be limited to two -such alternatives, if the meaning of the question had been clearly -apprehended. And we have already seen that the meaning of the question -has hardly ever been clearly apprehended. Almost all ethical writers -have committed the naturalistic fallacy--they have failed to perceive -that the notion of intrinsic value is simple and unique; and almost all -have failed, in consequence, to distinguish clearly between means and -end--they have discussed, as if it were simple and unambiguous, the -question, ‘What ought we to do?’ or ‘What ought to exist now?’ without -distinguishing whether the reason why a thing ought to be done or to -exist now, is that it is itself possessed of intrinsic value, or that -it is a means to what has intrinsic value. We shall, therefore, be -prepared to find that virtue has as little claim to be considered the -sole or chief good as pleasure; more especially after seeing that, so -far as definition goes, to call a thing a virtue is merely to declare -that it is a means to good. The advocates of virtue have, we shall see, -this superiority over the Hedonists, that inasmuch as virtues are very -complex mental facts, there are included in them many things which are -good in themselves and good in a much higher degree than pleasure. -The advocates of Hedonism, on the other hand, have the superiority -that their method emphasizes the distinction between means and ends; -although they have not apprehended the distinction clearly enough to -perceive that the special ethical predicate, which they assign to -pleasure as _not_ being a mere means, must also apply to many other -things. - - -=105.= With regard, then, to the intrinsic value of virtue, it may be -stated broadly: (1) that the majority of dispositions, which we call -by that name, and which really do conform to the definition, so far as -that they are dispositions generally valuable as means, at least in our -society, have no intrinsic value whatever; and (2) that no one element -which is contained in the minority, nor even all the different elements -put together, can without gross absurdity be regarded as the sole good. -As to the second point it may be observed that even those who hold the -view that the sole good is to be found in virtue, almost invariably -hold other views contradictory of this, owing chiefly to a failure to -analyse the meaning of ethical concepts. The most marked instance of -this inconsistency is to be found in the common Christian conception -that virtue, though the sole good, can yet be rewarded by something -other than virtue. Heaven is commonly considered as the reward of -virtue; and yet it is also commonly considered, that, in order to be -such a reward, it must contain some element, called happiness, which -is certainly not completely identical with the mere exercise of those -virtues which it rewards. But if so, then something which is not virtue -must be either good in itself or an element in what has most intrinsic -value. It is not commonly observed that if a thing is really to be a -reward, it must be something good in itself: it is absurd to talk of -rewarding a person by giving him something, which is less valuable than -what he already has or which has no value at all. Thus Kant’s view that -virtue renders us _worthy_ of happiness is in flagrant contradiction -with the view, which he implies and which is associated with his name, -that a Good Will is the only thing having intrinsic value. It does -not, indeed, entitle us to make the charge sometimes made, that Kant -is, inconsistently, an Eudaemonist or Hedonist: for it does not imply -that happiness is the sole good. But it does imply that the Good Will -is _not_ the sole good: that a state of things in which we are both -virtuous and happy is better in itself than one in which the happiness -is absent. - - -=106.= In order, however, justly to consider the claims of virtue to -intrinsic value, it is necessary to distinguish several very different -mental states, all of which fall under the general definition that they -are habitual dispositions to perform duties. We may thus distinguish -three very different states, all of which are liable to be confused -with one another, upon each of which different moral systems have laid -great stress, and for each of which the claim has been made that it -alone constitutes virtue, and, by implication, that it is the sole -good. We may first of all distinguish between (_a_) that permanent -characteristic of mind, which consists in the fact that the performance -of duty has become in the strict sense a habit, like many of the -operations performed in the putting on of clothes, and (_b_) that -permanent characteristic, which consists in the fact that what may be -called good motives habitually help to cause the performance of duties. -And in the second division we may distinguish between the habitual -tendency to be actuated by one motive, namely, the desire to do duty -for duty’s sake, and all other motives, such as love, benevolence, etc. -We thus get the three kinds of virtue, of which we are now to consider -the intrinsic value. - -(_a_) There is no doubt that a man’s character may be such that he -habitually performs certain duties, without the thought ever occurring -to him, when he wills them, either that they are duties or that any -good will result from them. Of such a man we cannot and do not refuse -to say that he possesses the virtue consisting in the disposition to -perform those duties. I, for instance, am honest in the sense that -I habitually abstain from any of the actions legally qualified as -thieving, even where some other persons would be strongly tempted to -commit them. It would be grossly contrary to common usage to deny -that, for this reason, I really have the virtue of honesty: it is -quite certain that I have an habitual disposition to perform a duty. -And that as many people as possible should have a like disposition -is, no doubt, of great utility: it is good as a means. Yet I may -safely assert that neither my various performances of this duty, nor -my disposition to perform them, have the smallest intrinsic value. -It is because the majority of instances of virtue seem to be of this -nature, that we may venture to assert that virtues have, in general, -no intrinsic value whatsoever. And there seems good reason to think -that the more generally they are of this nature the more useful they -are; since a great economy of labour is effected when a useful action -becomes habitual or instinctive. But to maintain that a virtue, which -includes no more than this, is good in itself is a gross absurdity. And -of this gross absurdity, it may be observed, the Ethics of Aristotle is -guilty. For his definition of virtue does not exclude a disposition to -perform actions in this way, whereas his descriptions of the particular -virtues plainly _include_ such actions: that an action, in order to -exhibit virtue, must be done τοῦ καλοῦ ἕνεκα is a qualification which -he allows often to drop out of sight. And, on the other hand, he seems -certainly to regard the exercise of _all_ virtues as an end in itself. -His treatment of Ethics is indeed, in the most important points, highly -unsystematic and confused, owing to his attempt to base it on the -naturalistic fallacy; for strictly we should be obliged by his words -to regard θεωρία as the _only_ thing good in itself, in which case -the goodness which he attributes to the practical virtues cannot be -intrinsic value; while on the other hand he does not seem to regard -it merely as utility, since he makes no attempt to shew that they are -means to θεωρία. But there seems no doubt that on the whole he regards -the exercise of the practical virtues as a good of the same kind as -(_i.e._ having intrinsic value), only in a less degree than, θεωρία; so -that he cannot avoid the charge that he recommends as having intrinsic -value, such instances of the exercise of virtue as we are at present -discussing--instances of a disposition to perform actions which, in -the modern phrase, have merely an ‘external rightness.’ That he is -right in applying the word ‘virtue’ to such a disposition cannot be -doubted. But the protest against the view that ‘external rightness’ is -sufficient to constitute either ‘duty’ or ‘virtue’--a protest which is -commonly, and with some justice, attributed as a merit to Christian -morals--seems, in the main, to be a mistaken way of pointing out an -important truth: namely, that where there is only ‘external rightness’ -there is certainly no intrinsic value. It is commonly assumed (though -wrongly) that to call a thing a virtue means that it has intrinsic -value: and on this assumption the view that virtue does not consist -in a mere disposition to do externally right actions does really -constitute an advance in ethical truth beyond the Ethics of Aristotle. -The inference that, if virtue includes in its meaning ‘good in itself,’ -then Aristotle’s definition of virtue is not adequate and expresses a -false ethical judgment, is perfectly correct: only the premiss that -virtue does include this in its meaning is mistaken. - - -=107.= (_b_) A man’s character may be such that, when he habitually -performs a particular duty, there is, in each case of his performance, -present in his mind, a love of some intrinsically good consequence -which he expects to produce by his action or a hatred of some -intrinsically evil consequence which he hopes to prevent by it. In -such a case this love or hatred will generally be part cause of his -action, and we may then call it one of his _motives_. Where such a -feeling as this is present habitually in the performance of duties, it -cannot be denied that the state of the man’s mind, in performing it, -contains something intrinsically good. Nor can it be denied that, where -a disposition to perform duties consists in the disposition to be moved -to them by such feelings, we call that disposition a virtue. Here, -therefore, we have instances of virtue, the exercise of which really -contains something that is good in itself. And, in general, we may say -that wherever a virtue does consist in a disposition to have certain -motives, the exercise of that virtue _may_ be intrinsically good; -although the degree of its goodness may vary indefinitely according to -the precise nature of the motives and their objects. In so far, then, -as Christianity tends to emphasize the importance of motives, of the -‘inward’ disposition with which a right action is done, we may say that -it has done a service to Ethics. But it should be noticed that, when -Christian Ethics, as represented by the New Testament, are praised for -this, two distinctions of the utmost importance, which they entirely -neglect, are very commonly overlooked. In the first place the New -Testament is largely occupied with continuing the tradition of the -Hebrew prophets, by recommending such virtues as ‘justice’ and ‘mercy’ -as against mere ritual observances; and, in so far as it does this, it -is recommending virtues which may be _merely_ good as means, exactly -like the Aristotelian virtues. This characteristic of its teaching must -therefore be rigorously distinguished from that which consists in its -enforcement of such a view as that to be angry without a cause is as -bad as actually to commit murder. And, in the second place, though the -New Testament does praise some things which are only good as means, and -others which are good in themselves, it entirely fails to recognise -this distinction. Though the state of the man who is angry may be -really as bad in itself as that of the murderer, and so far Christ -may be right, His language would lead us to suppose that it is _also_ -as bad in every way, that it _also causes_ as much evil: and this is -utterly false. In short, when Christian Ethics approves, it does not -distinguish whether its approval asserts ‘This is a means to good’ or -‘This is good in itself’; and hence it both praises things merely good -as means, as if they were good in themselves, and things merely good in -themselves as if they were also good as means. Moreover it should be -noticed, that if Christian Ethics does draw attention to those elements -in virtues which are good in themselves, it is by no means alone in -this. The Ethics of Plato are distinguished by upholding, far more -clearly and consistently than any other system, the view that intrinsic -value belongs exclusively to those states of mind which consist in love -of what is good or hatred of what is evil. - - -=108.= But (_c_) the Ethics of Christianity are distinguished from -those of Plato by emphasizing the value of one particular motive--that -which consists in the emotion excited by the idea, not of any -intrinsically good consequences of the action in question, nor even -of the action itself, but by that of its rightness. This idea of -abstract ‘rightness’ and the various degrees of the specific emotion -excited by it are what constitute the specifically ‘moral sentiment’ or -‘conscience.’ An action seems to be most properly termed ‘internally -right[23],’ solely in virtue of the fact that the agent has previously -regarded it as right: the idea of ‘rightness’ must have been present -to his mind, but need not necessarily have been among his motives. And -we mean by a ‘conscientious’ man, one who, when he deliberates, always -has this idea in his mind, and does not act until he believes that his -action is right. - - [23] This sense of the term must be carefully distinguished from - that in which the agent’s intention may be said to be ‘right,’ if - only the results he intended would have been the best possible. - -The presence of this idea and its action as a motive certainly seem -to have become more common objects of notice and commendation owing -to the influence of Christianity; but it is important to observe -that there is no ground for the view, which Kant implies, that it is -the _only_ motive which the New Testament regards as intrinsically -valuable. There seems little doubt that when Christ tells us to ‘Love -our neighbours as ourselves,’ He did not mean merely what Kant calls -‘practical love‘--beneficence of which the _sole_ motive is the idea of -its rightness, or the emotion caused by that idea. Among the ‘inward -dispositions’ of which the New Testament inculcates the value, there -are certainly included what Kant terms mere ‘natural inclinations,’ -such as pity, etc. - -But what are we to say of virtue, when it consists in a disposition to -be moved to the performance of duties by this idea? It seems difficult -to deny that the emotion excited by rightness as such has some -intrinsic value; and still more difficult to deny that its presence -may heighten the value of some wholes into which it enters. But, on -the other hand, it certainly has not more value than many of the -motives treated in our last section--emotions of love towards things -really good in themselves. And as for Kant’s implication that it is -the sole good[24], this is inconsistent with other of his own views. -For he certainly regards it as _better_ to perform the actions, to -which he maintains that it prompts us--namely, ‘material’ duties--than -to omit them. But, if better at all, then, these actions must be -better either in themselves or as a means. The former hypothesis would -directly contradict the statement that this motive was _sole_ good, -and the latter is excluded by Kant himself since he maintains that -no actions can _cause_ the existence of this motive. And it may also -be observed that the other claim which he makes for it, namely, that -it is _always_ good as a means, can also not be maintained. It is as -certain as anything can be that very harmful actions may be done from -conscientious motives; and that Conscience does not always tell us the -truth about what actions are right. Nor can it be maintained even that -it is _more_ useful than many other motives. All that can be admitted -is that it is one of the things which are generally useful. - - [24] Kant, so far as I know, never expressly states this view, - but it is implied _e.g._ in his argument against Heteronomy. - -What more I have to say with regard to those elements in some virtues -which are good in themselves, and with regard to their relative degrees -of excellence, as well as the proof that all of them together cannot be -the sole good, may be deferred to the next chapter. - - -=109.= The main points in this chapter, to which I desire to direct -attention, may be summarised as follows:--(1) I first pointed out how -the subject-matter with which it deals, namely, ethical judgments -on conduct, involves a question, utterly different in kind from the -two previously discussed, namely: (_a_) What is the nature of the -predicate peculiar to Ethics? and (_b_) What kinds of things themselves -possess this predicate? Practical Ethics asks, not ‘What ought to be?’ -but ‘What ought we to do?’; it asks what actions are _duties_, what -actions are _right_, and what _wrong_: and all these questions can -only be answered by shewing the relation of the actions in question, -as _causes_ or _necessary conditions_, to what is good in itself. The -enquiries of Practical Ethics thus fall entirely under the _third_ -division of ethical questions--questions which ask, ‘What is good as -a means?’ which is equivalent to ‘What is a means to good--what is -cause or necessary condition of things good in themselves?’ (86-88). -But (2) it asks this question, almost exclusively, with regard to -actions which it is possible for most men to perform, if only they -_will_ them; and with regard to these, it does not ask merely, which -among them will have _some_ good or bad result, but which, among all -the actions possible to volition at any moment, will produce the best -_total_ result. To assert that an action is a duty, is to assert that -it is such a possible action, which will _always_, in certain known -circumstances, produce better results than any other. It follows that -universal propositions of which duty is predicate, so far from being -self-evident, always require a proof, which it is beyond our present -means of knowledge ever to give (89-92). But (3) all that Ethics has -attempted or can attempt, is to shew that certain actions, possible by -volition, _generally_ produce better or worse total results than any -probable alternative: and it must obviously be very difficult to shew -this with regard to the total results even in a comparatively near -future; whereas that what has the best results in such a near future, -also has the best on the whole, is a point requiring an investigation -which it has not received. If it is true, and if, accordingly, we give -the name of ‘duty’ to actions which _generally_ produce better total -results in the near future than any possible alternative, it may be -possible to prove that a few of the commonest rules of duty are true, -but _only_ in certain conditions of society, which may be more or less -universally presented in history; and such a proof is only possible -_in some cases_ without a correct judgment of what things are good -or bad in themselves--a judgment which has never yet been offered by -ethical writers. With regard to actions of which the _general_ utility -is thus proved, the individual should _always_ perform them; but in -other cases, where rules are commonly offered, he should rather judge -of the probable results in his particular case, guided by a correct -conception of what things are intrinsically good or bad (93-100). -(4) In order that any action may be shewn to be a duty, it must be -shewn to fulfil the above conditions; but the actions commonly called -‘duties’ do not fulfil them to any greater extent than ‘expedient’ -or ‘interested’ actions: by calling them ‘duties’ we only mean that -they have, _in addition_, certain non-ethical predicates. Similarly by -‘virtue’ is mainly meant a permanent disposition to perform ‘duties’ -in this restricted sense: and accordingly a virtue, if it is really -a virtue, must be good _as a means_, in the sense that it fulfils the -above conditions; but it is not _better_ as a means than non-virtuous -dispositions; it generally has no value in itself; and, where it has, -it is far from being the sole good or the best of goods. Accordingly -‘virtue’ is not, as is commonly implied, an unique _ethical_ predicate -(101-109). - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE IDEAL. - - -=110.= The title of this chapter is ambiguous. When we call a state of -things ‘ideal’ we may mean three distinct things, which have only this -in common: that we always do mean to assert, of the state of things in -question, not only that it is good in itself, but that it is good in -itself in a much higher degree than many other things. The first of -these meanings of ‘ideal’ is (1) that to which the phrase ‘_The_ Ideal’ -is most properly confined. By this is meant the _best_ state of things -_conceivable_, the Summum Bonum or Absolute Good. It is in this sense -that a right conception of Heaven would be a right conception of the -Ideal: we mean by the Ideal a state of things which would be absolutely -perfect. But this conception may be quite clearly distinguished from a -second, namely, (2) that of the best _possible_ state of things in this -world. This second conception may be identified with that which has -frequently figured in philosophy as the ‘Human Good,’ or the _ultimate_ -end towards which our action should be directed. It is in this sense -that Utopias are said to be Ideals. The constructor of an Utopia may -suppose many things to be possible, which are in fact impossible; but -he always assumes that some things, at least, are rendered impossible -by natural laws, and hence his construction differs essentially -from one which may disregard _all_ natural laws, however certainly -established. At all events the question ‘What is the best state of -things which we could _possibly_ bring about?’ is quite distinct from -the question ‘What would be the best state of things conceivable?’ -But, thirdly, we may mean by calling a state of things ‘ideal’ merely -(3) that it is good in itself in a high degree. And it is obvious that -the question what things are ‘ideal’ in this sense is one which must -be answered before we can pretend to settle what is the Absolute or -the Human Good. It is with the Ideal, in this third sense, that this -chapter will be principally concerned. Its main object is to arrive -at some positive answer to the fundamental question of Ethics--the -question: ‘What things are goods or ends in themselves?’ To this -question we have hitherto obtained only a negative answer: the answer -that pleasure is certainly not the _sole_ good. - - -=111.= I have just said that it is upon a correct answer to this -question that correct answers to the two other questions, What is the -Absolute Good? and What is the Human Good? must depend; and, before -proceeding to discuss it, it may be well to point out the relation -which it has to these two questions. - -(1) It is just possible that the Absolute Good may be entirely -composed of qualities which we cannot even imagine. This is possible, -because, though we certainly do know a great many things that are -good-in-themselves, and good in a high degree, yet what is best does -not necessarily contain all the good things there are. That this is so -follows from the principle explained in Chap. I. (§§ 18-22), to which -it was there proposed that the name ‘principle of organic unities’ -should be confined. This principle is that the intrinsic value of a -whole is neither identical with nor proportional to the sum of the -values of its parts. It follows from this that, though in order to -obtain the greatest possible sum of values in its parts, the Ideal -would necessarily contain all the things which have intrinsic value in -any degree, yet the whole which contained all these parts might not be -so valuable as some other whole, from which certain positive goods were -omitted. But if a whole, which does not contain all positive goods, may -yet be better than a whole which does, it follows that the best whole -_may_ be one, which contains _none_ of the positive goods with which we -are acquainted. - -It is, therefore, _possible_ that we cannot discover what the Ideal -is. But it is plain that, though this possibility cannot be denied, -no one can have any right to assert that it is realised--that the -Ideal _is_ something unimaginable. We cannot judge of the comparative -values of things, unless the things we judge are before our minds. We -cannot, therefore, be entitled to assert that anything, which we cannot -imagine, would be better than some of the things which we can; although -we are also not entitled to deny the possibility that this may be the -case. Consequently our search for the Ideal must be limited to a search -for that one, among all the wholes composed of elements known to us, -which seems to be better than all the rest. We shall never be entitled -to assert that this whole is Perfection, but we shall be entitled to -assert that it is _better_ than any other which may be presented as a -rival. - -But, since anything which we can have any _reason_ to think ideal -must be composed of things that are known to us, it is plain that -a comparative valuation of these must be our chief instrument -for deciding what is ideal. The best ideal we can construct will -be that state of things which contains the greatest number of -things having positive value, and which contains nothing evil or -indifferent--_provided_ that the presence of none of these goods, -or the absence of things evil or indifferent, seems to diminish the -value of the whole. And, in fact, the chief defect of such attempts as -have been made by philosophers to construct an Ideal--to describe the -Kingdom of Heaven--seems to consist in the fact that they omit many -things of very great positive value, although it is plain that this -omission does _not_ enhance the value of the whole. Where this is the -case, it may be confidently asserted that the ideal proposed is not -ideal. And the review of positive goods, which I am about to undertake, -will, I hope, shew that no ideals yet proposed are satisfactory. Great -positive goods, it will appear, are so numerous, that any whole, -which shall contain them all, must be of vast complexity. And though -this fact renders it difficult, or, humanly speaking, impossible, to -decide what is The Ideal, what is the absolutely best state of things -imaginable, it is sufficient to condemn those Ideals, which are formed -by omission, without any visible gain in consequence of such omission. -Philosophers seem usually to have sought only for the _best_ of single -things; neglecting the fact that a whole composed of two great goods, -even though one of these be obviously inferior to the other, may yet be -often seen to be decidedly superior to either by itself. - -(2) On the other hand, Utopias--attempted descriptions of a Heaven -upon Earth--commonly suffer not only from this, but also from the -opposite defect. They are commonly constructed on the principle of -merely omitting the great positive evils, which exist at present, with -utterly inadequate regard to the goodness of what they retain: the -so-called goods, to which they have regard, are, for the most part, -things which are, at best, mere means to good--things, such as freedom, -_without_ which, possibly, nothing very good can exist in this world, -but which are of no value in themselves and are by no means certain -even to produce anything of value. It is, of course, necessary to the -purpose of their authors, whose object is merely to construct the -best that may be possible in this world, that they should include, -in the state of things which they describe, many things, which are -themselves indifferent, but which, according to natural laws, seem -to be absolutely necessary for the existence of anything which is -good. But, in fact, they are apt to include many things, of which -the necessity is by no means apparent, under the mistaken idea that -these things are goods-in-themselves, and not merely, here and now, -a means to good: while, on the other hand, they also omit from their -description great positive goods, of which the attainment seems to be -quite as possible as many of the changes which they recommend. That -is to say, conceptions of the Human Good commonly err, not only, like -those of the Absolute Good, in omitting some great goods, but also by -including things indifferent; and they both omit and include in cases -where the limitations of natural necessity, by the consideration of -which they are legitimately differentiated from conceptions of the -Absolute Good, will not justify the omission and inclusion. It is, in -fact, obvious that in order to decide correctly at what state of things -we ought to aim, we must not only consider what results it is possible -for us to obtain, but also which, among equally possible results, will -have the greatest value. And upon this second enquiry the comparative -valuation of known goods has a no less important bearing than upon the -investigation of the Absolute Good. - - -=112.= The method which must be employed in order to decide the -question ‘What things have intrinsic value, and in what degrees?’ -has already been explained in Chap. III. (§§ 55, 57). In order to -arrive at a correct decision on the first part of this question, it is -necessary to consider what things are such that, if they existed _by -themselves_, in absolute isolation, we should yet judge their existence -to be good; and, in order to decide upon the relative _degrees_ of -value of different things, we must similarly consider what comparative -value seems to attach to the isolated existence of each. By employing -this method, we shall guard against two errors, which seem to have -been the chief causes which have vitiated previous conclusions on the -subject. The first of these is (1) that which consists in supposing -that what seems absolutely necessary here and now, for the existence of -anything good--what we cannot do without--is therefore good in itself. -If we isolate such things, which are mere means to good, and suppose -a world in which they alone, and nothing but they, existed, their -intrinsic worthlessness becomes apparent. And, secondly, there is the -more subtle error (2) which consists in neglecting the principle of -organic unities. This error is committed, when it is supposed, that, -if one part of a whole has no intrinsic value, the value of the whole -must reside entirely in the other parts. It has, in this way, been -commonly supposed, that, if all valuable wholes could be seen to have -one and only one common property, the wholes must be valuable solely -_because_ they possess this property; and the illusion is greatly -strengthened, if the common property in question seems, considered -by itself, to have more value than the other parts of such wholes, -considered by themselves. But, if we consider the property in question, -_in isolation_, and then compare it with the whole, of which it forms -a part, it may become easily apparent that, existing by itself, the -property in question has not nearly so much value, as has the whole to -which it belongs. Thus, if we compare the value of a certain amount of -pleasure, _existing absolutely by itself_, with the value of certain -‘enjoyments,’ containing an equal amount of pleasure, it may become -apparent that the ‘enjoyment’ is much better than the pleasure, and -also, in some cases, much worse. In such a case it is plain that the -‘enjoyment’ does _not_ owe its value _solely_ to the pleasure it -contains, although it might easily have appeared to do so, when we -only considered the other constituents of the enjoyment, and seemed -to see that, without the pleasure, they would have had no value. It -is now apparent, on the contrary, that the whole ‘enjoyment’ owes its -value quite equally to the presence of the other constituents, _even -though_ it may be true that the pleasure is the only constituent having -any value by itself. And similarly, if we are told that all things -owe their value solely to the fact that they are ‘realisations of the -true self,’ we may easily refute this statement, by asking whether the -predicate that is meant by ‘realising the true self,’ supposing that it -could exist alone, would have any value whatsoever. Either the _thing_, -which does ‘realise the true self,’ has intrinsic value or it has not; -and if it has, then it certainly does not owe its value solely to the -fact that it realises the true self. - - -=113.= If, now, we use this method of absolute isolation, and guard -against these errors, it appears that the question we have to answer -is far less difficult than the controversies of Ethics might have led -us to expect. Indeed, once the meaning of the question is clearly -understood, the answer to it, in its main outlines, appears to be so -obvious, that it runs the risk of seeming to be a platitude. By far the -most valuable things, which we know or can imagine, are certain states -of consciousness, which may be roughly described as the pleasures of -human intercourse and the enjoyment of beautiful objects. No one, -probably, who has asked himself the question, has ever doubted that -personal affection and the appreciation of what is beautiful in Art -or Nature, are good in themselves; nor, if we consider strictly what -things are worth having _purely for their own sakes_, does it appear -probable that any one will think that anything else has _nearly_ so -great a value as the things which are included under these two heads. -I have myself urged in Chap. III. (§ 50) that the mere existence of -what is beautiful does appear to have _some_ intrinsic value; but I -regard it as indubitable that Prof. Sidgwick was so far right, in the -view there discussed, that such mere existence of what is beautiful -has value, so small as to be negligible, in comparison with that which -attaches to the _consciousness_ of beauty. This simple truth may, -indeed, be said to be universally recognised. What has _not_ been -recognised is that it is the ultimate and fundamental truth of Moral -Philosophy. That it is only for the sake of these things--in order that -as much of them as possible may at some time exist--that any one can -be justified in performing any public or private duty; that they are -the _raison d’être_ of virtue; that it is they--these complex wholes -_themselves_, and not any constituent or characteristic of them--that -form the rational ultimate end of human action and the sole criterion -of social progress: these appear to be truths which have been generally -overlooked. - -That they are truths--that personal affections and aesthetic enjoyments -include _all_ the greatest, and _by far_ the greatest, goods we can -imagine, will, I hope, appear more plainly in the course of that -analysis of them, to which I shall now proceed. All the things, which I -have meant to include under the above descriptions, are highly complex -_organic unities_; and in discussing the consequences, which follow -from this fact, and the elements of which they are composed, I may hope -at the same time both to confirm and to define my position. - - -=114.= I. I propose to begin by examining what I have called aesthetic -enjoyments, since the case of personal affections presents some -additional complications. It is, I think, universally admitted that the -proper appreciation of a beautiful object is a good thing in itself; -and my question is: What are the main elements included in such an -appreciation? - -(1) It is plain that in those instances of aesthetic appreciation, -which we think most valuable, there is included, not merely a bare -cognition of what is beautiful in the object, but also some kind of -feeling or emotion. It is not sufficient that a man should merely see -the beautiful qualities in a picture and know that they are beautiful, -in order that we may give his state of mind the highest praise. We -require that he should also _appreciate_ the beauty of that which he -sees and which he knows to be beautiful--that he should feel and see -_its beauty_. And by these expressions we certainly mean that he should -have an appropriate emotion towards the beautiful qualities which he -cognises. It is perhaps the case that all aesthetic emotions have some -common quality; but it is certain that differences in the emotion seem -to be appropriate to differences in the kind of beauty perceived: and -by saying that different emotions are _appropriate_ to different kinds -of beauty, we mean that the whole which is formed by the consciousness -of that kind of beauty _together with_ the emotion appropriate to it, -is better than if any other emotion had been felt in contemplating that -particular beautiful object. Accordingly we have a large variety of -different emotions, each of which is a necessary constituent in some -state of consciousness which we judge to be good. All of these emotions -are essential elements in great positive goods; they are _parts_ of -organic wholes, which have great intrinsic value. But it is important -to observe that these wholes are organic, and that, hence, it does not -follow that the emotion, _by itself_, would have any value whatsoever, -nor yet that, if it were directed to a different object, the whole thus -formed might not be positively bad. And, in fact, it seems to be the -case that if we distinguish the emotional element, in any aesthetic -appreciation, from the cognitive element, which accompanies it and -is, in fact, commonly thought of as a part of the emotion; and if -we consider what value this emotional element would have, _existing -by itself_, we can hardly think that it has any great value, even -if it has any at all. Whereas, if the same emotion be directed to a -different object, if, for instance, it is felt towards an object that -is positively ugly, the whole state of consciousness is certainly often -positively bad in a high degree. - - -=115.= (2) In the last paragraph I have pointed out the two facts, -that the presence of some emotion is necessary to give any very high -value to a state of aesthetic appreciation, and that, on the other -hand, this same emotion, in itself, may have little or no value: it -follows that these emotions give to the wholes of which they form a -part a value far greater than that which they themselves possess. -The same is obviously true of the cognitive element which must be -combined with these emotions in order to form these highly valuable -wholes; and the present paragraph will attempt to define what is meant -by this cognitive element, so far as to guard against a possible -misunderstanding. When we talk of seeing a beautiful object, or, more -generally, of the cognition or consciousness of a beautiful object, -we may mean by these expressions something which forms no part of -any valuable whole. There is an ambiguity in the use of the term -‘object,’ which has probably been responsible for as many enormous -errors in philosophy and psychology as any other single cause. This -ambiguity may easily be detected by considering the proposition, which, -though a contradiction in terms, is obviously true: That when a man -sees a beautiful picture, he may see nothing beautiful whatever. The -ambiguity consists in the fact that, by the ‘object’ of vision (or -cognition), may be meant _either_ the qualities actually seen _or_ all -the qualities possessed by the thing seen. Thus in our case: when it -is said that the picture is beautiful, it is meant that it contains -qualities which are beautiful; when it is said that the man sees the -picture, it is meant that he sees a great number of the qualities -contained in the picture; and when it is said that, nevertheless, -he sees nothing beautiful, it is meant that he does _not_ see those -qualities of the picture which are beautiful. When, therefore, I speak -of the cognition of a beautiful object, as an essential element in a -valuable aesthetic appreciation, I must be understood to mean only the -cognition of _the beautiful qualities_ possessed by that object, and -_not_ the cognition of other qualities of the object possessing them. -And this distinction must itself be carefully distinguished from the -other distinction expressed above by the distinct terms ‘seeing the -beauty of a thing’ and ‘seeing its beautiful qualities.’ By ‘seeing -the beauty of a thing’ we commonly mean the having an emotion towards -its beautiful qualities; whereas in the ‘seeing of its beautiful -qualities’ we do not include any emotion. By the cognitive element, -which is equally necessary with emotion to the existence of a valuable -appreciation, I mean merely the actual cognition or consciousness of -any or all of an object’s _beautiful qualities_--that is to say any or -all of those elements in the object which possess any positive beauty. -That such a cognitive element is essential to a valuable whole may be -easily seen, by asking: What value should we attribute to the proper -emotion excited by hearing Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, if that emotion -were entirely unaccompanied by any consciousness, either of the notes, -or of the melodic and harmonic relations between them? And that the -mere _hearing_ of the Symphony, even accompanied by the appropriate -emotion, is not sufficient, may be easily seen, if we consider what -would be the state of a man, who should hear all the notes, but should -_not_ be aware of any of those melodic and harmonic relations, which -are necessary to constitute the smallest beautiful elements in the -Symphony. - - -=116.= (3) Connected with the distinction just made between ‘object’ -in the sense of the qualities actually before the mind, and ‘object’ -in the sense of the whole thing which possesses the qualities actually -before the mind, is another distinction of the utmost importance for -a correct analysis of the constituents necessary to a valuable whole. -It is commonly and rightly thought that to see beauty in a thing which -has no beauty is in some way inferior to seeing beauty in that which -really has it. But under this single description of ‘seeing beauty -in that which has no beauty,’ two very different facts, and facts -of very different value, may be included. We may mean _either_ the -attribution to an object of really beautiful qualities which it does -not possess _or_ the feeling towards qualities, which the object does -possess but which are in reality not beautiful, an emotion which is -appropriate only to qualities really beautiful. Both these facts are -of very frequent occurrence; and in most instances of emotion both -no doubt occur together: but they are obviously quite distinct, and -the distinction is of the utmost importance for a correct estimate of -values. The former may be called an error of judgment, and the latter -an error of taste; but it is important to observe that the ‘error -of taste’ commonly involves a false judgment _of value_; whereas the -‘error of judgment’ is merely a false judgment _of fact_. - -Now the case which I have called an error of taste, namely, where the -actual qualities we admire (whether possessed by the ‘object’ or not) -are ugly, can in any case have no value, except such as may belong -to the emotion _by itself_; and in most, if not in all, cases it is -a considerable positive evil. In this sense, then, it is undoubtedly -right to think that seeing beauty in a thing which has no beauty is -inferior in value to seeing beauty where beauty really is. But the -other case is much more difficult. In this case there is present all -that I have hitherto mentioned as necessary to constitute a great -positive good: there is a cognition of qualities really beautiful, -together with an appropriate emotion towards these qualities. There -can, therefore, be no doubt that we have here a great positive good. -But there is present also something else; namely, a belief that these -beautiful qualities exist, and that they exist in a certain relation -to other things--namely, to some properties of the object to which -we attribute these qualities: and further the object of this belief -is false. And we may ask, with regard to the whole thus constituted, -whether the presence of the belief, and the fact that what is believed -is false, make any difference to its value? We thus get three different -cases of which it is very important to determine the relative values. -Where both the cognition of beautiful qualities and the appropriate -emotion are present we may _also_ have either, (1) a belief in the -existence of these qualities, of which the object, _i.e._ that they -exist, is true: or (2) a mere cognition, without belief, when it is -(_a_) true, (_b_) false, that the object of the cognition, _i.e._ the -beautiful qualities, exists: or (3) a belief in the existence of the -beautiful qualities, when they do not exist. The importance of these -cases arises from the fact that the second defines the pleasures of -imagination, including a great part of the appreciation of those -works of art which are _representative_; whereas the first contrasts -with these the appreciation of what is beautiful in Nature, and the -human affections. The third, on the other hand, is contrasted with -both, in that it is chiefly exemplified in what is called misdirected -affection; and it is possible also that the love of God, in the case of -a believer, should fall under this head. - - -=117.= Now all these three cases, as I have said, have something in -common, namely, that, in them all, we have a cognition of really -beautiful qualities together with an appropriate emotion towards -those qualities. I think, therefore, it cannot be doubted (nor is it -commonly doubted) that all three include great positive goods; they -are all things of which we feel convinced that they are worth having -for their own sakes. And I think that the value of the second, in -either of its two subdivisions, is precisely the same as the value -of the element common to all three. In other words, in the case of -purely imaginative appreciations we have merely the cognition of really -beautiful qualities together with the appropriate emotion; and the -question, whether the object cognised exists or not, seems here, where -there is no belief either in its existence or in its non-existence, to -make absolutely no difference to the value of the total state. But it -seems to me that the two other cases do differ in intrinsic value both -from this one and from one another, even though the object cognised and -the appropriate emotion should be identical in all three cases. I think -that the additional presence of a belief in the reality of the object -makes the total state much better, if the belief is true; and worse, -if the belief is false. In short, where there is belief, in the sense -in which we _do_ believe in the existence of Nature and horses, and do -_not_ believe in the existence of an ideal landscape and unicorns, the -_truth_ of what is believed does make a great difference to the value -of the organic whole. If this be the case, we shall have vindicated -the belief that _knowledge_, in the ordinary sense, as distinguished -on the one hand from belief in what is false and on the other from -the mere awareness of what is true, does contribute towards intrinsic -value--that, at least in some cases, its presence as a part makes a -whole more valuable than it could have been without. - -Now I think there can be no doubt that we do judge that there is -a difference of value, such as I have indicated, between the three -cases in question. We do think that the emotional contemplation of a -natural scene, supposing its qualities equally beautiful, is in some -way a better state of things than that of a painted landscape: we -think that the world would be improved if we could substitute for the -best works of representative art _real_ objects equally beautiful. And -similarly we regard a misdirected affection or admiration, even where -the error involved is a mere error of judgment and not an error of -taste, as in some way unfortunate. And further, those, at least, who -have a strong respect for truth, are inclined to think that a merely -poetical contemplation of the Kingdom of Heaven _would_ be superior -to that of the religious believer, _if_ it were the case that the -Kingdom of Heaven does not and will not really exist. Most persons, -on a sober, reflective judgment, would feel some hesitation even in -preferring the felicity of a madman, convinced that the world was -ideal, to the condition either of a poet imagining an ideal world, or -of themselves enjoying and appreciating the lesser goods which do and -will exist: But, in order to assure ourselves that these judgments are -really judgments of intrinsic value upon the question before us, and -to satisfy ourselves that they are correct, it is necessary clearly to -distinguish our question from two others which have a very important -bearing upon our total judgment of the cases in question. - - -=118.= In the first place (_a_) it is plain that, where we believe, the -question whether what we believe is true or false, will generally have -a most important bearing upon the value of our belief _as a means_. -Where we believe, we are apt to act upon our belief, in a way in which -we do not act upon our cognition of the events in a novel. The truth -of what we believe is, therefore, very important as preventing the -pains of disappointment and still more serious consequences. And it -might be thought that a misdirected attachment was unfortunate solely -for this reason: that it leads us to count upon results, which the -real nature of its object is not of a kind to ensure. So too the Love -of God, where, as usual, it includes the belief that he will annex to -certain actions consequences, either in this life or the next, which -the course of nature gives no reason to expect, may lead the believer -to perform actions of which the actual consequences, supposing no -such God to exist, may be much worse than he might otherwise have -effected: and it might be thought that this was the sole reason (as it -is a sufficient one) why we should hesitate to encourage the Love of -God, in the absence of any proof that he exists. And similarly it may -be thought that the only reason why beauty in Nature should be held -superior to an equally beautiful landscape or imagination, is that -its existence would ensure greater permanence and frequency in our -emotional contemplation of that beauty. It is, indeed, certain that -the chief importance of most _knowledge_--of the truth of most of the -things which we believe--does, in this world, consist in its extrinsic -advantages: it is immensely valuable _as a means_. - -And secondly, (_b_) it may be the case that the existence of that which -we contemplate is itself a great positive good, so that, for this -reason alone, the state of things described by saying, that the object -of our emotion really exists, would be intrinsically superior to that -in which it did not. This reason for superiority is undoubtedly of -great importance in the case of human affections, where the object of -our admiration is the mental qualities of an admirable person; for that -_two_ such admirable persons should exist is greatly better than that -there should be only one: and it would also discriminate the admiration -of inanimate nature from that of its representations in art, in so far -as we may allow a small intrinsic value to the existence of a beautiful -object, apart from any contemplation of it. But it is to be noticed -that this reason would not account for any difference in value between -the cases where the truth was believed and that in which it was merely -cognised, without either belief or disbelief. In other words, so far -as this reason goes, the difference between the two subdivisions of -our second class (that of imaginative contemplation) would be as great -as between our first class and the second subdivision of our second. -The superiority of the mere _cognition_ of a beautiful object, when -that object also happened to exist, over the same cognition when the -object did not exist, would, on this count, be as great as that of the -_knowledge_ of a beautiful object over the mere imagination of it. - - -=119.= These two reasons for discriminating between the value of the -three cases we are considering, must, I say, be carefully distinguished -from that, of which I am now questioning the validity, if we are to -obtain a correct answer concerning this latter. The question I am -putting is this: Whether the _whole_ constituted by the fact that -there is an emotional contemplation of a beautiful object, which -both is believed to be and is _real_, does not derive some of its -value from the fact that the object _is_ real? I am asking whether -the value of this whole, _as a whole_, is not greater than that of -those which differ from it, _either_ by the absence of belief, with -or without truth, _or_, belief being present, by the mere absence of -truth? I am not asking _either_ whether it is not superior to them as -a means (which it certainly is), _nor_ whether it may not contain a -more valuable _part_, namely, the existence of the object in question. -My question is solely whether the existence of its object does not -constitute an addition to the value of the whole, quite distinct from -the addition constituted by the fact that this whole does contain a -valuable part. - -If, now, we put this question, I cannot avoid thinking that it should -receive an affirmative answer. We can put it clearly by the method of -isolation; and the sole decision must rest with our reflective judgment -upon it, as thus clearly put. We can guard against the bias produced -by a consideration of value _as a means_ by supposing the case of an -illusion as complete and permanent as illusions in this world never can -be. We can imagine the case of a single person, enjoying throughout -eternity the contemplation of scenery as beautiful, and intercourse -with persons as admirable, as can be imagined; while yet the whole of -the objects of his cognition are absolutely unreal. I think we should -definitely pronounce the existence of a universe, which consisted -solely of such a person, to be _greatly_ inferior in value to one in -which the objects, in the existence of which he believes, did really -exist just as he believes them to do; and that it would be thus -inferior _not only_ because it would lack the goods which consist in -the existence of the objects in question, but _also_ merely because -his belief would be false. That it would be inferior _for this reason -alone_ follows if we admit, what also appears to me certain, that the -case of a person, merely imagining, without believing, the beautiful -objects in question, would, _although these objects really existed_, -be yet inferior to that of the person who also believed in their -existence. For here all the additional good, which consists in the -existence of the objects, is present, and yet there still seems to be -a great difference in value between this case and that in which their -existence is believed. But I think that my conclusion may perhaps be -exhibited in a more convincing light by the following considerations. -(1) It does not seem to me that the small degree of value which we may -allow to the existence of beautiful inanimate objects is nearly equal -in amount to the difference which I feel that there is between the -appreciation (accompanied by belief) of such objects, when they really -exist, and the purely imaginative appreciation of them when they do not -exist. This inequality is more difficult to verify where the object -is an admirable person, since a _great_ value must be allowed to his -existence. But yet I think it is not paradoxical to maintain that the -superiority of reciprocal affection, where both objects are worthy and -both exist, over an unreciprocated affection, where both are worthy -but one does not exist, does not lie solely in the fact that, in the -former case, we have two good things instead of one, but also in the -fact that each is such as the other believes him to be. (2) It seems to -me that the important contribution to value made by true belief may be -very plainly seen in the following case. Suppose that a worthy object -of affection does really exist and is believed to do so, but that there -enters into the case this error of fact, that the qualities loved, -though exactly like, are yet not the _same_ which really do exist. -This state of things is easily imagined, and I think we cannot avoid -pronouncing that, _although_ both persons here exist, it is yet not so -satisfactory as where the very person loved and believed to exist is -also the one which actually does exist. - - -=120.= If all this be so, we have, in this third section, added to our -two former results the third result that a true belief in the reality -of an object greatly increases the value of many valuable wholes. -Just as in sections (1) and (2) it was maintained that aesthetic and -affectionate emotions had little or no value apart from the cognition -of appropriate objects, and that the cognition of these objects had -little or no value apart from the appropriate emotion, so that the -whole, in which both were combined, had a value greatly in excess of -the sum of the values of its parts; so, according to this section, if -there be added to these wholes a true belief in the reality of the -object, the new whole thus formed has a value greatly in excess of the -sum obtained by adding the value of the true belief, considered in -itself, to that of our original wholes. This new case only differs from -the former in this, that, whereas the true belief, by itself, has quite -as little value as either of the two other constituents taken singly, -yet they, taken together, seem to form a whole of very great value, -whereas this is not the case with the two wholes which might be formed -by adding the true belief to either of the others. - -The importance of the result of this section seems to lie mainly in two -of its consequences. (1) That it affords some justification for the -immense intrinsic value, which seems to be commonly attributed to the -mere _knowledge_ of some truths, and which was expressly attributed -to some kinds of knowledge by Plato and Aristotle. Perfect knowledge -has indeed competed with perfect love for the position of Ideal. If -the results of this section are correct, it appears that knowledge, -though having little or no value by itself, is an absolutely essential -constituent in the highest goods, and contributes immensely to their -value. And it appears that this function may be performed not only -by that case of knowledge, which we have chiefly considered, namely, -knowledge of the reality of the beautiful object cognised, but also -by knowledge of the numerical identity of this object with that which -really exists, and by the knowledge that the existence of that object -is truly good. Indeed all knowledge, which is directly concerned with -the nature of the constituents of a beautiful object, would seem -capable of adding greatly to the value of the contemplation of that -object, although, by itself, such knowledge would have no value at -all.--And (2) The second important consequence, which follows from -this section, is that the presence of true belief may, in spite of a -great inferiority in the value of the emotion and the beauty of its -object, constitute with them a whole equal or superior in value to -wholes, in which the emotion and beauty are superior, but in which a -true belief is wanting or a false belief present. In this way we may -justify the attribution of equal or superior value to an appreciation -of an inferior real object, as compared with the appreciation of a -greatly superior object which is a mere creature of the imagination. -Thus a just appreciation of nature and of real persons may maintain its -equality with an equally just appreciation of the products of artistic -imagination, in spite of much greater beauty in the latter. And -similarly though God may be admitted to be a more perfect object than -any actual human being, the love of God may yet be inferior to human -love, _if_ God does not exist. - - -=121.= (4) In order to complete the discussion of this first class -of goods--goods which have an essential reference to _beautiful_ -objects--it would be necessary to attempt a classification and -comparative valuation of all the different forms of beauty, a task -which properly belongs to the study called Aesthetics. I do not, -however, propose to attempt any part of this task. It must only be -understood that I intend to include among the essential constituents of -the goods I have been discussing, every form and variety of beautiful -object, if only it be truly beautiful; and, _if_ this be understood, -I think it may be seen that the consensus of opinion with regard to -what is positively beautiful and what is positively ugly, and even with -regard to great differences in degree of beauty, is quite sufficient to -allow us a hope that we need not greatly err in our judgments of good -and evil. In anything which is thought beautiful by any considerable -number of persons, there is probably _some_ beautiful quality; and -differences of opinion seem to be far more often due to exclusive -attention, on the part of different persons, to different qualities -in the same object, than to the positive error of supposing a quality -that is ugly to be really beautiful. When an object, which some think -beautiful, is denied to be so by others, the truth is _usually_ that it -lacks some beautiful quality or is deformed by some ugly one, which -engage the exclusive attention of the critics. - -I may, however, state two general principles, closely connected with -the results of this chapter, the recognition of which would seem to -be of great importance for the investigation of what things are truly -beautiful. The first of these is (1) a definition of beauty, of what -is meant by saying that a thing is truly beautiful. The naturalistic -fallacy has been quite as commonly committed with regard to beauty -as with regard to good: its use has introduced as many errors into -Aesthetics as into Ethics. It has been even more commonly supposed that -the beautiful may be _defined_ as that which produces certain effects -upon our feelings; and the conclusion which follows from this--namely, -that judgments of taste are merely _subjective_--that precisely the -same thing may, according to circumstances, be _both_ beautiful _and_ -not beautiful--has very frequently been drawn. The conclusions of this -chapter suggest a definition of beauty, which may partially explain -and entirely remove the difficulties which have led to this error. It -appears probable that the beautiful should be _defined_ as that of -which the admiring contemplation is good in itself. That is to say: To -assert that a thing is beautiful is to assert that the cognition of it -is an essential element in one of the intrinsically valuable wholes -we have been discussing; so that the question, whether it is _truly_ -beautiful or not, depends upon the _objective_ question whether the -whole in question is or is not truly good, and does not depend upon -the question whether it would or would not excite particular feelings -in particular persons. This definition has the double recommendation -that it accounts both for the apparent connection between goodness -and beauty and for the no less apparent difference between these two -conceptions. It appears, at first sight, to be a strange coincidence, -that there should be two _different_ objective predicates of value, -‘good’ and ‘beautiful,’ which are nevertheless so related to one -another that whatever is beautiful is also good. But, if our definition -be correct, the strangeness disappears; since it leaves only one -_unanalysable_ predicate of value, namely ‘good,’ while ‘beautiful,’ -though not identical with, is to be defined by reference to this, -being thus, at the same time, different from and necessarily connected -with it. In short, on this view, to say that a thing is beautiful -is to say, not indeed that it is _itself_ good, but that it is a -necessary element in something which is: to prove that a thing is truly -beautiful is to prove that a whole, to which it bears a particular -relation as a part, is truly good. And in this way we should explain -the immense predominance, among objects commonly considered beautiful, -of _material_ objects--objects of the external senses; since these -objects, though themselves having, as has been said, little or no -intrinsic value, are yet essential constituents in the largest group of -wholes which have intrinsic value. These wholes themselves may be, and -are, also beautiful; but the comparative rarity, with which we regard -them as themselves _objects_ of contemplation, seems sufficient to -explain the association of beauty with external objects. - -And secondly (2) it is to be observed that beautiful objects are -themselves, for the most part, organic unities, in this sense, that -they are wholes of great complexity, such that the contemplation of -any part, by itself, may have no value, and yet that, unless the -contemplation of the whole includes the contemplation of that part, it -will lose in value. From this it follows that there can be no single -criterion of beauty. It will never be true to say: This object owes its -beauty _solely_ to the presence of this characteristic; nor yet that: -Wherever this characteristic is present, the object must be beautiful. -All that can be true is that certain objects are beautiful, _because_ -they have certain characteristics, in the sense that they would not -be beautiful _unless_ they had them. And it may be possible to find -that certain characteristics are more or less universally present in -all beautiful objects, and are, in this sense, more or less important -conditions of beauty. But it is important to observe that the very -qualities, which differentiate one beautiful object from all others, -are, if the object be truly beautiful, as _essential_ to its beauty, -as those which it has in common with ever so many others. The object -would no more have the beauty it has, without its specific qualities, -than without those that are generic; and the generic qualities, _by -themselves_, would fail, as completely, to give beauty, as those which -are specific. - - -=122.= II. It will be remembered that I began this survey of great -unmixed goods, by dividing all the greatest goods we know into the two -classes of aesthetic enjoyments, on the one hand, and the pleasures of -human intercourse or of personal affection, on the other. I postponed -the consideration of the latter on the ground that they presented -additional complications. In what this additional complication -consists, will now be evident; and I have already been obliged to -take account of it, in discussing the contribution to value made by -true belief. It consists in the fact that in the case of personal -affection, the object itself is not _merely_ beautiful, while possessed -of little or no intrinsic value, but is itself, in part at least, -of great intrinsic value. All the constituents which we have found -to be necessary to the most valuable aesthetic enjoyments, namely, -appropriate emotion, cognition of truly beautiful qualities, and true -belief, are equally necessary here; but here we have the additional -fact that the object must be not only truly beautiful, but also truly -good in a high degree. - -It is evident that this additional complication only occurs in so far -as there is included in the object of personal affection some of the -_mental_ qualities of the person towards whom the affection is felt. -And I think it may be admitted that, wherever the affection is most -valuable, the appreciation of mental qualities must form a large part -of it, and that the presence of this part makes the whole far more -valuable than it could have been without it. But it seems very doubtful -whether this appreciation, by itself, can possess as much value as the -whole in which it is combined with an appreciation of the appropriate -_corporeal_ expression of the mental qualities in question. It is -certain that in all actual cases of valuable affection, the bodily -expressions of character, whether by looks, by words, or by actions, do -form a part of the object towards which the affection is felt, and that -the fact of their inclusion appears to heighten the value of the whole -state. It is, indeed, very difficult to imagine what the cognition of -mental qualities _alone_, unaccompanied by _any_ corporeal expression, -would be like; and, in so far as we succeed in making this abstraction, -the whole considered certainly appears to have less value. I therefore -conclude that the importance of an admiration of admirable mental -qualities lies chiefly in the immense superiority of a whole, in which -it forms a part, to one in which it is absent, and not in any high -degree of intrinsic value which it possesses by itself. It even appears -to be doubtful, whether, in itself, it possesses so much value as the -appreciation of mere corporeal beauty undoubtedly does possess; that is -to say, whether the appreciation of what has great intrinsic value is -so valuable as the appreciation of what is merely beautiful. - -But further if we consider the nature of admirable mental qualities, -by themselves, it appears that a proper appreciation of them involves -a reference to purely material beauty in yet another way. Admirable -mental qualities do, if our previous conclusions are correct, consist -very largely in an emotional contemplation of beautiful objects; -and hence the appreciation of them will consist essentially in the -contemplation of such contemplation. It is true that the most valuable -appreciation of persons appears to be that which consists in the -appreciation of their appreciation of other persons: but even here a -reference to material beauty appears to be involved, _both_ in respect -of the fact that what is appreciated in the last instance may be the -contemplation of what is merely beautiful, _and_ in respect of the fact -that the most valuable appreciation of a person appears to _include_ -an appreciation of his corporeal expression. Though, therefore, we -may admit that the appreciation of a person’s attitude towards other -persons, or, to take one instance, the love of love, is far the most -valuable good we know, and far more valuable than the mere love of -beauty, yet we can only admit this if the first be understood to -_include_ the latter, in various degrees of directness. - -With regard to the question what _are_ the mental qualities of which -the cognition is essential to the value of human intercourse, it is -plain that they include, in the first place, all those varieties of -aesthetic appreciation, which formed our first class of goods. They -include, therefore, a great variety of different emotions, each of -which is appropriate to some different kind of beauty. But we must now -add to these the whole range of emotions, which are appropriate to -persons, and which are different from those which are appropriate to -mere corporeal beauty. It must also be remembered that just as these -emotions have little value in themselves, and as the state of mind in -which they exist may have its value greatly heightened, or may entirely -lose it and become positively evil in a great degree, according as the -cognitions accompanying the emotions are appropriate or inappropriate; -so too the appreciation of these emotions, though it may have some -value in itself, may yet form part of a whole which has far greater -value or no value at all, according as it is or is not accompanied by -a perception of the appropriateness of the emotions to their objects. -It is obvious, therefore, that the study of what is valuable in human -intercourse is a study of immense complexity; and that there may be -much human intercourse which has little or no value, or is positively -bad. Yet here too, as with the question what is beautiful, there seems -no reason to doubt that a reflective judgment will in the main decide -correctly both as to what are positive goods and even as to any _great_ -differences in value between these goods. In particular, it may be -remarked that the emotions, of which the contemplation is essential -to the greatest values, and which are also themselves appropriately -excited by such contemplation, appear to be those which are commonly -most highly prized under the name of affection. - - -=123.= I have now completed my examination into the nature of those -great positive goods, which do not appear to include among their -constituents anything positively evil or ugly, though they include -much which is in itself indifferent. And I wish to point out certain -conclusions which appear to follow, with regard to the nature of the -Summum Bonum, or that state of things which would be the most perfect -we can conceive. Those idealistic philosophers, whose views agree -most closely with those here advocated, in that they deny pleasure to -be the sole good and regard what is completely good as having some -complexity, have usually represented a purely spiritual state of -existence as the Ideal. Regarding matter as essentially imperfect, if -not positively evil, they have concluded that the total absence of -all material properties is necessary to a state of perfection. Now, -according to what has been said, this view would be correct so far -as it asserts that any great good must be _mental_, and so far as it -asserts that a purely material existence, _by itself_, can have little -or no value. The superiority of the spiritual over the material has, -in a sense, been amply vindicated. But it does not follow, from this -superiority, that a perfect state of things must be one, from which -all material properties are rigidly excluded: on the contrary, if our -conclusions are correct, it would seem to be the case that a state of -things, in which they are included, must be vastly better than any -conceivable state in which they were absent. In order to see that this -is so, the chief thing necessary to be considered is _exactly what it -is_ which we declare to be good when we declare that the appreciation -of beauty in Art and Nature is so. That this appreciation _is_ good, -the philosophers in question do not for the most part deny. But, if we -admit it, then we should remember Butler’s maxim that: Everything is -what it is, and not another thing. I have tried to shew, and I think -it is too evident to be disputed, that such appreciation is an organic -unity, a complex whole; and that, in its most undoubted instances, -part of what is included in this whole is _a cognition of material -qualities_, and particularly of a vast variety of what are called -_secondary_ qualities. If, then, it is _this_ whole, which we know to -be good, and not another thing, then we know that material qualities, -even though they be perfectly worthless in themselves, are yet -essential constituents of what is far from worthless. What we know to -be valuable is the apprehension of just these qualities, and not of any -others; and, if we propose to subtract them from it, then what we have -left is _not_ that which we know to have value, but something else. And -it must be noticed that this conclusion holds, even if my contention, -that a true belief in the existence of these qualities adds to the -value of the whole in which it is included, be disputed. We should -then, indeed, be entitled to assert that the _existence_ of a material -world was wholly immaterial to perfection; but the fact that what we -knew to be good was a cognition of _material qualities_ (though purely -imaginary), would still remain. It must, then, be admitted on pain of -self-contradiction--on pain of holding that things are not what they -are, but something else--that a world, from which material qualities -were wholly banished, would be a world which lacked many, if not all, -of those things, which we know most certainly to be great goods. That -it _might_ nevertheless be a far better world than one which retained -these goods, I have already admitted (§ 111 (1)). But in order to shew -that any such world _would_ be thus better, it would be necessary to -shew that the retention of these things, though good in themselves, -impaired, in a more than equal degree, the value of some whole, to -which they might belong; and the task of shewing this has certainly -never been attempted. Until it be performed, we are entitled to assert -that material qualities are a necessary constituent of the Ideal; -that, though something utterly unknown _might_ be better than any -world containing either them or any other good we know, yet we have no -reason to suppose that anything whatever would be better than a state -of things in which they were included. To deny and exclude matter, -is to deny and exclude the best we know. That a thing may retain its -value, while losing some of its qualities, is utterly untrue. All that -is true is that the changed thing may have more value than, or as much -value as, that of which the qualities have been lost. What I contend is -that nothing, which we _know_ to be good and which contains no material -qualities, has such great value that we can declare it, _by itself_, to -be superior to the whole which would be formed by the addition to it of -an appreciation of material qualities. That a _purely_ spiritual good -may be the _best_ of single things, I am not much concerned to dispute, -although, in what has been said with regard to the nature of personal -affection, I have given reasons for doubting it. But that by adding -to it some appreciation of material qualities, which, though perhaps -inferior by itself, is certainly a great positive good, we should -obtain a greater sum of value, which no corresponding decrease in the -value of the whole, as a whole, could counterbalance--this, I maintain, -we have certainly no reason to doubt. - - -=124.= In order to complete this discussion of the main principles -involved in the determination of intrinsic values, the chief remaining -topics, necessary to be treated, appear to be two. The first of these -is the nature of great intrinsic _evils_, including what I may call -_mixed_ evils; that is to say, those evil wholes, which nevertheless -contain, as essential elements, something positively good or beautiful. -And the second is the nature of what I may similarly call _mixed_ -goods; that is to say, those wholes, which, though intrinsically good -_as wholes_, nevertheless contain, as essential elements, something -positively evil or ugly. It will greatly facilitate this discussion, -if I may be understood throughout to use the terms ‘beautiful’ and -‘ugly,’ not necessarily with reference to things of the kind which -most naturally occur to us as instances of what is beautiful and ugly, -but in accordance with my own proposed definition of beauty. Thus I -shall use the word ‘beautiful’ to denote that of which the admiring -contemplation is good in itself; and ‘ugly’ to denote that of which the -admiring contemplation is evil in itself. - -I. With regard, then, to great positive evils, I think it is evident -that, if we take all due precautions to discover _precisely what_ those -things are, of which, _if they existed absolutely by themselves_, we -should judge the existence to be a great evil, we shall find most of -them to be organic unities of exactly the same nature as those which -are the greatest positive goods. That is to say, they are cognitions of -some object, accompanied by some emotion. Just as neither a cognition -nor an emotion, _by itself_, appeared capable of being greatly good, -so (with one exception), neither a cognition nor an emotion, _by -itself_, appears capable of being greatly evil. And just as a whole -formed of both, even without the addition of any other element, -appeared undoubtedly capable of being a great good, so such a whole, -_by itself_, appears capable of being a great evil. With regard to the -_third_ element, which was discussed as capable of adding greatly to -the value of a good, namely, _true belief_, it will appear that it has -different relations towards different kinds of evils. In some cases the -addition of true belief to a positive evil seems to constitute a far -worse evil; but in other cases it is not apparent that it makes any -difference. - -The greatest positive evils may be divided into the following three -classes. - - -=125.= (1) The first class consists of those evils, which seem always -to include an enjoyment or admiring contemplation of things which -are themselves either evil or ugly. That is to say these evils are -characterised by the fact that they include precisely the same emotion, -which is also essential to the greatest unmixed goods, from which they -are differentiated by the fact that this emotion is directed towards an -inappropriate object. In so far as this emotion is either a slight good -in itself or a slightly beautiful object, these evils would therefore -be cases of what I have called ‘mixed’ evils; but, as I have already -said, it seems very doubtful whether an emotion, completely isolated -from its object, has either value or beauty: it certainly has not much -of either. It is, however, important to observe that the very same -emotions, which are often loosely talked of as the greatest or the only -goods, may be essential constituents of the very worst wholes: that, -according to the nature of the cognition which accompanies them, they -may be conditions either of the greatest good, or of the greatest evil. - -In order to illustrate the nature of evils of this class, I may take -two instances--cruelty and lasciviousness. That these are great -intrinsic evils, we may, I think, easily assure ourselves, by imagining -the state of a man, whose mind is solely occupied by either of these -passions, in their worst form. If we then consider what judgment we -should pass upon a universe which consisted _solely_ of minds thus -occupied, without the smallest hope that there would ever exist in it -the smallest consciousness of any object other than those proper to -these passions, or any feeling directed to any such object, I think -we cannot avoid the conclusion that the existence of such a universe -would be a far worse evil than the existence of none at all. But, if -this be so, it follows that these two vicious states are not only, as -is commonly admitted, bad as means, but also bad in themselves.--And -that they involve in their nature that complication of elements, -which I have called a love of what is evil or ugly, is, I think, no -less plain. With regard to the pleasures of lust, the nature of the -cognition, by the presence of which they are to be defined, is somewhat -difficult to analyse. But it appears to include both cognitions of -organic sensations and perceptions of states of the body, of which -the enjoyment is certainly an evil in itself. So far as these are -concerned, lasciviousness would, then, include in its essence an -admiring contemplation of what is ugly. But certainly one of its -commonest ingredients, in its worst forms, is an enjoyment of the same -state of mind in other people: and in this case it would therefore also -include a love of what is evil. With regard to cruelty, it is easy -to see that an enjoyment of pain in other people is essential to it; -and, as we shall see, when we come to consider pain, this is certainly -a love of evil: while, in so far as it also includes a delight in -the bodily signs of agony, it would also comprehend a love of what -is ugly. In both cases, it should be observed, the evil of the state -is heightened not only by an increase in the evil or ugliness of the -object, but also by an increase in the enjoyment. - -It might be objected, in the case of cruelty, that our disapproval of -it, even in the isolated case supposed, where no considerations of -its badness as a means could influence us, may yet be really directed -to the pain of the persons, which it takes delight in contemplating. -This objection may be met, in the first place, by the remark that it -entirely fails to explain the judgment, which yet, I think, no one, on -reflection, will be able to avoid making, that even though the amount -of pain contemplated be the same, yet the greater the delight in its -contemplation, the worse the state of things. But it may also, I think, -be met by notice of a fact, which we were unable to urge in considering -the similar possibility with regard to goods--namely the possibility -that the reason why we attribute greater value to a worthy affection -for a _real_ person, is that we take into account the additional good -consisting in the existence of that person. We may I think urge, in -the case of cruelty, that its intrinsic odiousness is equally great, -whether the pain contemplated really exists or is purely imaginary. I, -at least, am unable to distinguish that, in this case, the presence -of _true belief_ makes any difference to the intrinsic value of the -whole considered, although it undoubtedly may make a great difference -to its value _as a means_. And so also with regard to other evils of -this class: I am unable to see that a true belief in the _existence_ -of their objects makes any difference in the degree of their positive -demerits. On the other hand, the presence of another class of beliefs -seems to make a considerable difference. When we enjoy what is evil -or ugly, in spite of our knowledge that it is so, the state of things -seems considerably worse than if we made no judgment at all as to the -object’s value. And the same seems also, strangely enough, to be the -case when we make a false judgment of value. When we admire what is -ugly or evil, believing that it is beautiful and good, this belief -seems also to enhance the intrinsic vileness of our condition. It must, -of course, be understood that, in both these cases, the judgment in -question is merely what I have called a judgment of taste; that is to -say, it is concerned with the worth of the qualities actually cognised -and not with the worth of the object, to which those qualities may be -rightly or wrongly attributed. - -Finally it should be mentioned that evils of this class, _beside_ that -emotional element (namely enjoyment and admiration) which they share -with great unmixed goods, appear always also to include some specific -emotion, which does not enter in the same way into the constitution -of any good. The presence of this specific emotion seems certainly -to enhance the badness of the whole, though it is not plain that, by -itself, it would be either evil or ugly. - - -=126.= (2) The second class of great evils are undoubtedly mixed -evils; but I treat them next, because, in a certain respect, they -appear to be the _converse_ of the class last considered. Just as it -is essential to this last class that they should include an emotion, -appropriate to the cognition of what is good or beautiful, but directed -to an inappropriate object; so to this second class it is essential -that they should include a cognition of what is good or beautiful, but -accompanied by an inappropriate emotion. In short, just as the last -class may be described as cases of the love of what is evil or ugly, so -this class may be described as cases of the hatred of what is good or -beautiful. - -With regard to these evils it should be remarked: First, that the vices -of hatred, envy and contempt, where these vices are evil in themselves, -appear to be instances of them; and that they are frequently -accompanied by evils of the first class, for example, where a delight -is felt in the pain of a good person. Where they are thus accompanied, -the whole thus formed is undoubtedly worse than if either existed -singly. - -And secondly: That in their case a true belief in the existence of the -good or beautiful object, which is hated, does appear to enhance the -badness of the whole, in which it is present. Undoubtedly also, as in -our first class, the presence of a true belief as to the _value_ of the -objects contemplated, increases the evil. But, contrary to what was the -case in our first class, a _false_ judgment of value appears to lessen -it. - - -=127.= (3) The third class of great positive evils appears to be the -class of _pains_. - -With regard to these it should first be remarked that, as in the case -of pleasure, it is not pain itself, but only the consciousness of pain, -towards which our judgments of value are directed. Just as in Chap. -III., it was said that pleasure, however intense, which no one felt, -would be no good at all; so it appears that pain, however intense, of -which there was no consciousness, would be no evil at all. - -It is, therefore, only the consciousness of intense pain, which can -be maintained to be a great evil. But that this, _by itself_, may be -a great evil, I cannot avoid thinking. The case of pain thus seems to -differ from that of pleasure: for the mere consciousness of pleasure, -however intense, does not, _by itself_, appear to be a _great_ good, -even if it has some slight intrinsic value. In short, pain (if we -understand by this expression, the consciousness of pain) appears to -be a far worse evil than pleasure is a good. But, if this be so, then -_pain_ must be admitted to be an exception from the rule which seems to -hold both of all _other_ great evils and of _all_ great goods: namely -that they are all organic unities to which _both_ a cognition of an -object _and_ an emotion directed towards that object are essential. In -the case of pain and of pain alone, it seems to be true that a mere -cognition, by itself, may be a great evil. It is, indeed, _an_ organic -unity, since it involves both the cognition and the object, neither of -which, by themselves, has either merit or demerit. But it is a less -complex organic unity than any other great evil and than any great -good, _both_ in respect of the fact that it does not involve, _beside_ -the cognition, an emotion directed towards its object, _and also_ in -respect of the fact that the _object_ may here be absolutely simple, -whereas in most, if not all, other cases, the object itself is highly -complex. - -This want of analogy between the relation of pain to intrinsic evil and -of pleasure to intrinsic good, seems also to be exhibited in a second -respect. Not only is it the case that consciousness of intense pain -is, by itself, a great evil, whereas consciousness of intense pleasure -is, by itself, no great good; but also the _converse_ difference -appears to hold of the contribution which they make to the value of -the whole, when they are combined respectively with another great evil -or with a great good. That is to say, the presence of pleasure (though -not in proportion to its intensity) does appear to enhance the value -of a whole, in which it is combined with any of the great unmixed -goods which we have considered: it might even be maintained that it -is _only_ wholes, in which _some_ pleasure is included, that possess -any great value: it is certain, at all events, that the presence of -pleasure makes a contribution to the value of good wholes greatly in -excess of its own intrinsic value. On the contrary, if a feeling of -pain be combined with any of the evil states of mind which we have been -considering, the difference which its presence makes to the value of -the whole, _as a whole_, seems to be rather for the better than the -worse: in any case, the only additional evil which it introduces, is -that which it, by itself, intrinsically constitutes. Thus, whereas pain -is _in itself_ a great evil, but makes no addition to the badness of a -whole, in which it is combined with some other bad thing, except that -which consists in its own intrinsic badness; pleasure, conversely, is -not _in itself_ a great good, but does make a great addition to the -goodness of a whole in which it is combined with a good thing, quite -apart from its own intrinsic value. - - -=128.= But finally, it must be insisted that pleasure and pain are -completely analogous in this: that we cannot assume either that the -presence of pleasure always makes a state of things better _on the -whole_, or that the presence of pain always makes it worse. This is the -truth which is most liable to be overlooked with regard to them; and -it is because this is true, that the common theory, that pleasure is -the only good and pain the only evil, has its grossest consequences in -misjudgments of value. Not only is the pleasantness of a state _not_ -in proportion to its intrinsic worth; it may even add positively to -its vileness. We do not think the successful hatred of a villain the -less vile and odious, because he takes the keenest delight in it; nor -is there the least need, in logic, why we should think so, apart from -an unintelligent prejudice in favour of pleasure. In fact it seems to -be the case that wherever pleasure is added to an evil state of either -of our first two classes, the whole thus formed is _always_ worse than -if no pleasure had been there. And similarly with regard to pain. If -pain be added to an evil state of either of our first two classes, the -whole thus formed is _always_ better, _as a whole_, than if no pain -had been there; though here, if the pain be too intense, since that -is a great evil, the state may not be better _on the whole_. It is in -this way that the theory of vindictive punishment may be vindicated. -The infliction of pain on a person whose state of mind is bad may, if -the pain be not too intense, create a state of things that is better -_on the whole_ than if the evil state of mind had existed unpunished. -Whether such a state of things can ever constitute a _positive_ good, -is another question. - - -=129.= II. The consideration of this other question belongs properly to -the second topic, which was reserved above for discussion namely the -topic of ‘mixed’ goods. ‘Mixed’ goods were defined above as things, -which, though positively good _as wholes_, nevertheless contain, as -essential elements, something intrinsically evil or ugly. And there -certainly seem to be such goods. But for the proper consideration -of them, it is necessary to take into account a new distinction the -distinction just expressed as being between the value which a thing -possesses ‘_as a whole_,’ and that which it possesses ‘_on the whole_.’ - -When ‘mixed’ goods were defined as things positively good _as wholes_, -the expression was ambiguous. It was meant that they were positively -good _on the whole_; but it must now be observed that the value which -a thing possesses _on the whole_ may be said to be equivalent to the -sum of the value which it possesses _as a whole_, _together with_ the -intrinsic values which may belong to any of its parts. In fact, by the -‘value which a thing possesses as a whole,’ there may be meant two -quite distinct things. There may be meant either (1) That value which -arises solely _from the combination_ of two or more things; or else (2) -The total value formed by the addition to (1) of any intrinsic values -which may belong to the things combined. The meaning of the distinction -may perhaps be most easily seen by considering the supposed case of -vindictive punishment. If it is true that the combined existence of two -evils may yet constitute a less evil than would be constituted by the -existence of either singly, it is plain that this can only be because -there arises from the combination a positive good which is greater than -the _difference_ between the sum of the two evils and the demerit of -either singly: this positive good would then be the value of the whole, -_as a whole_, in sense (1). Yet if this value be not so great a good -as the sum of the two evils is an evil, it is plain that the value of -the whole state of things will be a positive evil; and this value is -the value of the whole, _as a whole_, in sense (2). Whatever view may -be taken with regard to the particular case of vindictive punishment, -it is plain that we have here _two distinct things_, with regard to -_either_ of which a separate question may be asked in the case of every -organic unity. The first of these two things may be expressed as _the -difference_ between the value _of the whole thing_ and the sum of the -value of its parts. And it is plain that where the parts have little or -no intrinsic value (as in our first class of goods, §§ 114, 115), this -difference will be nearly or absolutely identical with the value of -the whole thing. The distinction, therefore, only becomes important in -the case of wholes, of which one or more parts have a great intrinsic -value, positive or negative. The first of these cases, that of a -whole, in which one part has a great _positive_ value, is exemplified -in our 2nd and 3rd classes of great unmixed goods (§§ 120, 122); and -similarly the Summum Bonum is a whole of which _many_ parts have a -great _positive_ value. Such cases, it may be observed, are also very -frequent and very important objects of Aesthetic judgment; since the -essential distinction between the ‘classical’ and the ‘romantic’ styles -consists in the fact that the former aims at obtaining the greatest -possible value for the whole, _as a whole_, in sense (1), whereas -the latter sacrifices this in order to obtain the greatest possible -value for some _part_, which is itself an organic unity. It follows -that we cannot declare either style to be necessarily superior, since -an equally good result _on the whole_, or ‘as a whole’ in sense (2), -may be obtained by either method; but the distinctively _aesthetic_ -temperament seems to be characterised by a tendency to prefer a good -result obtained by the classical, to an equally good result obtained by -the romantic method. - - -=130.= But what we have now to consider are cases of wholes, in which -one or more parts have a great _negative_ value--are great positive -evils. And first of all, we may take the _strongest_ cases, like that -of retributive punishment, in which we have a whole, exclusively -composed of two great positive evils--wickedness and pain. Can such a -whole ever be positively good _on the whole_? - -(1) I can see no reason to think that such wholes ever are positively -good _on the whole_. But from the fact that they may, nevertheless, be -less evils, than either of their parts taken singly, it follows that -they have a characteristic which is most important for the correct -decision of practical questions. It follows that, quite apart from -_consequences_ or any value which an evil may have as a mere means, -it may, _supposing_ one evil already exists, be worth while to create -another, since, by the mere creation of this second, there may be -constituted a whole less bad than if the original evil had been left -to exist by itself. And similarly, with regard to all the wholes which -I am about to consider, it must be remembered, that, even if they are -not goods _on the whole_, yet, where an evil already exists, as in this -world evils do exist, the existence of the other part of these wholes -will constitute a thing desirable _for its own sake_--that is to say, -not merely a means to future goods, but one of the _ends_ which must -be taken into account in estimating what that best possible state of -things is, to which every right action must be a means. - - -=131.= (2) But, as a matter of fact, I cannot avoid thinking that there -are wholes, containing something positively evil and ugly, which are, -nevertheless, great positive goods on the whole. Indeed, it appears -to be to this class that those instances of virtue, which contain -anything intrinsically good, chiefly belong. It need not, of course, -be denied that there is sometimes included in a virtuous disposition -more or less of those unmixed goods which were first discussed--that -is to say, a real love of what is good or beautiful. But the typical -and characteristic virtuous dispositions, so far as they are not -mere means, seem rather to be examples of mixed goods. We may take -as instances (_a_) Courage and Compassion, which seem to belong to -the second of the three classes of virtues distinguished in our last -chapter (§ 107); and (_b_) the specifically ‘moral’ sentiment, by -reference to which the third of those three classes was defined (§ 108). - -Courage and compassion, in so far as they contain an intrinsically -desirable state of mind, seem to involve essentially a cognition of -something evil or ugly. In the case of courage the object of the -cognition may be an evil of any of our three classes; in the case of -compassion, the proper object is pain. Both these virtues, accordingly, -must contain precisely the same cognitive element, which is also -essential to evils of class (1); and they are differentiated from these -by the fact that the emotion directed to these objects is, in their -case, an emotion of the same kind which was essential to evils of class -(2). In short, just as evils of class (2) seemed to consist in a hatred -of what was good or beautiful, and evils of class (1) in a love of what -was evil or ugly; so these virtues involve a _hatred_ of what is evil -or ugly. Both these virtues do, no doubt, also contain other elements, -and, among these, each contains its specific emotion; but that their -value does not depend solely upon these other elements, we may easily -assure ourselves, by considering what we should think of an attitude of -endurance or of defiant contempt toward an object intrinsically good -or beautiful, or of the state of a man whose mind was filled with pity -for the happiness of a worthy admiration. Yet pity for the undeserved -sufferings of others, endurance of pain to ourselves, and a defiant -hatred of evil dispositions in ourselves or in others, seem to be -undoubtedly admirable in themselves; and if so, there are admirable -things, which must be lost, if there were no cognition of evil. - -Similarly the specifically ‘moral’ sentiment, in all cases where it has -any considerable intrinsic value, appears to include a hatred of evils -of the first and second classes. It is true that the emotion is here -excited by the idea that an action is right or wrong; and hence the -object of the idea which excites it is generally not an intrinsic evil. -But, as far as I can discover, the emotion with which a conscientious -man views a real or imaginary right action, contains, as an essential -element, the same emotion with which he views a wrong one: it seems, -indeed, that this element is necessary to make his emotion specifically -_moral_. And the specifically moral emotion excited by the idea of a -wrong action, seems to me to contain essentially a more or less vague -cognition of the kind of intrinsic evils, which are usually caused -by wrong actions, whether they would or would not be caused by the -particular action in question. I am, in fact, unable to distinguish, in -its main features, the moral sentiment excited by the idea of rightness -and wrongness, wherever it is intense, from the total state constituted -by a cognition of something intrinsically evil together with the -emotion of hatred directed towards it. Nor need we be surprised that -this mental state should be the one chiefly associated with the idea -of rightness, if we reflect on the nature of those actions which are -most commonly recognised as duties. For by far the greater part of the -actions, of which we commonly think as duties, are _negative_: what we -feel to be our duty is to _abstain_ from some action to which a strong -natural impulse tempts us. And these wrong actions, in the avoidance -of which duty consists, are usually such as produce, very immediately, -some bad consequence in pain to others; while, in many prominent -instances, the inclination, which prompts us to them, is itself an -intrinsic evil, containing, as where the impulse is lust or cruelty, -an anticipatory enjoyment of something evil or ugly. That right action -does thus so frequently entail the suppression of some evil impulse, -is necessary to explain the plausibility of the view that virtue -_consists_ in the control of passion by reason. Accordingly, the truth -seems to be that, whenever a strong moral emotion is excited by the -idea of rightness, this emotion is accompanied by a vague cognition of -the kind of evils usually suppressed or avoided by the actions which -most frequently occur to us as instances of duty; and that the emotion -is directed towards this evil quality. We may, then, conclude that the -specific moral emotion owes almost all its intrinsic value to the fact -that it includes a cognition of evils accompanied by a hatred of them: -mere rightness, whether truly or untruly attributed to an action, seems -incapable of forming the object of an emotional contemplation, which -shall be any great good. - - -=132.= If this be so, then we have, in many prominent instances of -virtue, cases of a whole, greatly good in itself, which yet contains -the cognition of something, whereof the existence would be a great -evil: a great good is absolutely dependent for its value, upon its -inclusion of something evil or ugly, although it does not owe its -value _solely_ to this element in it. And, in the case of virtues, -this evil object does, in general, actually exist. But there seems no -reason to think that, when it does exist, the whole state of things -thus constituted is therefore the better _on the whole_. What seems -indubitable, is only that the feeling contemplation of an object, whose -existence _would_ be a great evil, or which is ugly, may be essential -to a valuable whole. We have another undoubted instance of this in the -appreciation of tragedy. But, in tragedy, the sufferings of Lear, and -the vice of Iago may be purely imaginary. And it seems certain that, -if they really existed, the evil thus existing, while it must detract -from the good consisting in a proper feeling towards them, will add -no positive value to that good great enough to counterbalance such a -loss. It does, indeed, seem that the existence of a true belief in the -object of these mixed goods does add _some_ value to the whole in which -it is combined with them: a conscious compassion for real suffering -seems to be better, _as a whole_, than a compassion for sufferings -merely imaginary; and this may well be the case, even though the evil -involved in the actual suffering makes the total state of things bad -_on the whole_. And it certainly seems to be true that a _false_ belief -in the actual existence of its object makes a worse mixed good than -if our state of mind were that with which we normally regard pure -fiction. Accordingly we may conclude that the only mixed goods, which -are positively good _on the whole_, are those in which the object is -something which _would_ be a great evil, if it existed, or which _is_ -ugly. - - -=133.= With regard, then, to those mixed goods, which consist in an -appropriate attitude of the mind towards things evil or ugly, and which -include among their number the greater part of such virtues as have any -intrinsic value whatever, the following three conclusions seem to be -those chiefly requiring to be emphasized:-- - -(1) There seems no reason to think that where the object is a thing -evil in itself, which _actually exists_, the total state of things is -ever positively _good on the whole_. The appropriate mental attitude -towards a really existing evil contains, of course, an element which -is absolutely identical with the same attitude towards the same evil, -where it is purely imaginary. And this element, which is common to -the two cases, may be a great positive good, on the whole. But there -seems no reason to doubt that, where the evil is _real_, the amount of -this real evil is always sufficient to reduce the total sum of value -to a negative quantity. Accordingly we have no reason to maintain the -paradox that an ideal world would be one in which vice and suffering -must exist in order that it may contain the goods consisting in the -appropriate emotion towards them. It is not a positive good that -suffering should exist, in order that we may compassionate it; or -wickedness, that we may hate it. There is no reason to think that any -actual evil whatsoever would be contained in the Ideal. It follows that -we cannot admit the actual validity of any of the arguments commonly -used in Theodicies; no such argument succeeds in justifying the fact -that there does exist even the smallest of the many evils which this -world contains. The most that can be said for such arguments is that, -when they make appeal to the principle of organic unity, their appeal -is valid _in principle_. It _might_ be the case that the existence of -evil was necessary, not merely as a means, but analytically, to the -existence of the greatest good. But we have no reason to think that -this _is_ the case in any instance whatsoever. - -But (2) there _is_ reason to think that the cognition of things evil -or ugly, which are purely imaginary, is essential to the Ideal. In this -case the burden of proof lies the other way. It cannot be doubted that -the appreciation of tragedy is a great positive good; and it seems -almost equally certain that the virtues of compassion, courage, and -self-control contain such goods. And to all these the cognition of -things which would be evil, if they existed, is analytically necessary. -Here then we have things of which the existence must add value to -any whole in which they are contained; nor is it possible to assure -ourselves that any whole, from which they were omitted, would thereby -gain more in its value _as a whole_, than it would lose by their -omission. We have no reason to think that any whole, which did not -contain them, would be so good _on the whole_ as some whole in which -they were obtained. The case for their inclusion in the Ideal is as -strong as that for the inclusion of material qualities (§ 123, above). -_Against_ the inclusion of these goods nothing can be urged except a -bare possibility. - -Finally (3) it is important to insist that, as was said above, these -mixed virtues have a great practical value, in addition to that which -they possess either in themselves or as mere means. Where evils do -exist, as in this world they do, the fact that they are known and -properly appreciated, constitutes a state of things having greater -value _as a whole_ even than the same appreciation of purely imaginary -evils. This state of things, it has been said, is never positively -good _on the whole_; but where the evil, which reduces its total value -to a negative quantity, already unavoidably exists, to obtain the -intrinsic value which belongs to it _as a whole_ will obviously produce -a better state of things than if the evil had existed by itself, -quite apart from the good element in it which is identical with the -appreciation of imaginary evils, and from any ulterior consequences -which its existence may bring about. The case is here the same as with -retributive punishment. Where an evil already exists, it is well that -it should be pitied or hated or endured, according to its nature; just -as it may be well that some evils should be punished. Of course, as in -all practical cases, it often happens that the attainment of this good -is incompatible with the attainment of another and a greater one. But -it is important to insist that we have here a real intrinsic value, -which must be taken into account in calculating that greatest possible -balance of intrinsic value, which it is always our duty to produce. - - -=134.= I have now completed such remarks as seemed most necessary to -be made concerning intrinsic values. It is obvious that for the proper -answering of this, the fundamental question of Ethics, there remains -a field of investigation as wide and as difficult, as was assigned -to Practical Ethics in my last chapter. There is as much to be said -concerning what results are intrinsically good, and in what degrees, -as concerning what results it is possible for us to bring about: both -questions demand, and will repay, an equally patient enquiry. Many of -the judgments, which I have made in this chapter, will, no doubt, seem -unduly arbitrary: it must be confessed that some of the attributions -of intrinsic value, which have seemed to me to be true, do not display -that symmetry and system which is wont to be required of philosophers. -But if this be urged as an objection, I may respectfully point out -that it is none. We have no title whatever to assume that the truth on -any subject-matter will display such symmetry as we desire to see--or -(to use the common vague phrase) that it will possess any particular -form of ‘unity.’ To search for ‘unity’ and ‘system,’ at the expense -of truth, is not, I take it, the proper business of philosophy, -however universally it may have been the practice of philosophers. -And that all truths about the Universe possess to one another all -the various relations, which may be meant by ‘unity,’ can only be -legitimately asserted, when we have carefully distinguished those -various relations and discovered what those truths are. In particular, -we can have no title to assert that ethical truths are ‘unified’ in -any particular manner, except in virtue of an enquiry conducted by -the method which I have endeavoured to follow and to illustrate. The -study of Ethics would, no doubt, be far more simple, and its results -far more ‘systematic,’ if, for instance, pain were an evil of exactly -the same magnitude as pleasure is a good; but we have no reason -whatever to assume that the Universe is such that ethical truths must -display this kind of symmetry: no argument against my conclusion, -that pleasure and pain do _not_ thus correspond, can have any weight -whatever, failing a careful examination of the instances which have -led me to form it. Nevertheless I am content that the results of this -chapter should be taken rather as illustrating the method which must -be pursued in answering the fundamental question of Ethics, and the -principles which must be observed, than as giving the correct answer -to that question. That things intrinsically good or bad are many and -various; that most of them are ‘organic unities,’ in the peculiar and -definite sense to which I have confined the term; and that our only -means of deciding upon their intrinsic value and its degree, is by -carefully distinguishing exactly what the thing is, about which we ask -the question, and then looking to see whether it has or has not the -unique predicate ‘good’ in any of its various degrees: these are the -conclusions, upon the truth of which I desire to insist. Similarly, in -my last chapter, with regard to the question ‘What ought we to do?’ -I have endeavoured rather to shew exactly what is the meaning of the -question, and what difficulties must consequently be faced in answering -it, than to prove that any particular answers are true. And that these -two questions, having precisely the nature which I have assigned to -them, are _the_ questions which it is the object of Ethics to answer, -may be regarded as the main result of the preceding chapters. These -are the questions which ethical philosophers have always been mainly -concerned to answer, although they have not recognised what their -question was--what predicate they were asserting to attach to things. -The practice of asking what things are virtues or duties, without -distinguishing what these terms mean; the practice of asking what ought -to be here and now, without distinguishing whether as means or end--for -its own sake or for that of its results; the search for one single -_criterion_ of right or wrong, without the recognition that in order -to discover a criterion we must first know what things _are_ right or -wrong; and the neglect of the principle of ‘organic unities’--these -sources of error have hitherto been almost universally prevalent in -Ethics. The conscious endeavour to avoid them all, and to apply to -all the ordinary objects of ethical judgment these two questions and -these only: Has it intrinsic value? and Is it a means to the best -possible?--this attempt, so far as I know, is entirely new; and its -results, when compared with those habitual to moral philosophers, are -certainly sufficiently surprising: that to Common Sense they will not -appear so strange, I venture to hope and believe. It is, I think, -much to be desired that the labour commonly devoted to answering such -questions as whether certain ‘ends’ are more or less ‘comprehensive’ -or more or less ‘consistent’ with one another--questions, which, even -if a precise meaning were given to them, are wholly irrelevant to the -proof of any ethical conclusion--should be diverted to the separate -investigation of these two clear problems. - - -=135.= The main object of this chapter has been to define roughly -the class of things, among which we may expect to find either great -intrinsic goods or great intrinsic evils; and particularly to point -out that there is a vast variety of such things, and that the simplest -of them are, with one exception, highly complex wholes, composed of -parts which have little or no value in themselves. All of them involve -consciousness of an object, which is itself usually highly complex, -and almost all involve also an emotional attitude towards this object; -but, though they thus have certain characteristics in common, the vast -variety of qualities in respect of which they differ from one another -are equally essential to their value: neither the generic character -of all, nor the specific character of each, is either greatly good -or greatly evil by itself; they owe their value or demerit, in each -case, to the presence of both. My discussion falls into three main -divisions, dealing respectively (1) with unmixed goods, (2) with evils, -and (3) with mixed goods. (1) Unmixed goods may all be said to consist -in the love of beautiful things or of good persons: but the number of -different goods of this kind is as great as that of beautiful objects, -and they are also differentiated from one another by the different -emotions appropriate to different objects. These goods are undoubtedly -good, even where the things or persons loved are imaginary; but it -was urged that, where the thing or person is real and is believed to -be so, these two facts together, when combined with the mere love of -the qualities in question, constitute a whole which is greatly better -than that mere love, having an additional value quite distinct from -that which belongs to the existence of the object, where that object -is a good person. Finally it was pointed out that the love of mental -qualities, by themselves, does not seem to be so great a good as that -of mental and material qualities together; and that, in any case, an -immense number of the best things are, or include, a love of material -qualities (113-123). (2) Great evils may be said to consist either -(_a_) in the love of what is evil or ugly, or (_b_) in the hatred of -what is good or beautiful, or (_c_) in the consciousness of pain. -Thus the consciousness of pain, if it be a great evil, is the only -exception to the rule that all great goods and great evils involve both -a cognition and an emotion directed towards its object (124-128). (3) -Mixed goods are those which include some element which is evil or ugly. -They may be said to consist either in hatred of what is ugly or of -evils of classes (_a_) and (_b_), or in compassion for pain. But where -they include an evil, which actually exists, its demerit seems to be -always great enough to outweigh the positive value which they possess -(129-133). - - - - -INDEX. - - - Aesthetic - enjoyments 189-202, 203 - judgment 215 - temperament 216 - - Aesthetics 200 - - Affection - beauty of 204-5 - misdirected 195, 198 - reciprocal 198 - value of 188-9, 203-5 - - Altruism 96-7, 167 - - Analytic judgments 7, 29, 33-4, 35, 220-1 - - Appreciation 189-90, 200, 204-5, 221 - - Approval 131 - - Approve 60 - - Approbation 171 - - Appropriate, inappropriate 192, 199, 204-5, 209, 211, 220 - defined 190 - - Aristotle 4 - definition of virtue 171 - valuation of virtues 176-7 - valuation of knowledge 199 - - Art - value of 188 - _representative_, value of 193, 195, 196, 200 - - Autonomy 127 - - - Bad 5, 27, 28, 95, 140, 143, 157, 178, 181, 188, 209, 210, 213, 214, - 216, 218 - - ‘Based on’ 38, 49, 54, 114, 115, 118, 120, 122, 144 - - Beauty - corporeal 203-4 - no criterion of 202 - definition of 201-2, 208 - mental 203-5 - ‘seeing’ of 190-1 - value of 28, 81-2, 83-5, 86, 94, 188-9, 201-2, 209, 211, 224 - - Being, dist. from existence 110-11 - - Belief, value of 193-200, 208, 210-11, 212, 219, 224-5 - - Benevolence, Sidgwick’s ‘principle of Rational’ 102-3 - - Bentham 145 - naturalistic fallacy 17-19 - quantity of pleasure 77-8 - - Bradley, F. H. - pleasure and desire 70 - theory of judgment 125 - - Butler, Bishop 86, 206 - - - Casuistry 4-5 - - Causal judgments - relation to Ethics 21-7, 36, 146-8, 149, 180 - - Causal relations 31-3, 34-6 - - Chastity 158 - - Classical style 215-16 - - Christ - on value of motives 178 - on love 179 - - Christian Ethics 178 - on ‘external’ rightness 177 - on ‘internal’ rightness 178-9 - on value of motives 177-9 - on value of virtue 174 - - Clifford, W. K. 40 - - Cognition - of evil 217-19 - dist. from knowledge 194 - relation to will and feeling 129-30, 133, 135-6, 141 - value of 85, 189-92, 194, 199, 208, 212, 224, 225 - - Commands, confused with moral laws 128-9, 141 - - Common sense 224 - on value of pleasure 86, 91-2, 94-5 - on duties 156-9 - - Compassion 217, 219, 220, 225 - - Conduct, relation of to Ethics 2-3, 146, 180 - - Conscience - defined 178 - not infallible 149, 180 - - Conscientiousness 218 - defined 179 - utility of 180 - - Contempt 211, 217 - - Corporeal beauty 203-4 - - Courage 217 - - Crimes 161 - - Criterion - of beauty 202 - evolution as 46, 50, 55-6 - of goodness 137-8 - pleasure as 91-2, 94-5, 108 - of right and wrong 223 - will as 137-8 - of truth 133 - - Cruelty 209-11, 218 - - - Darwin 47 - - Definition, nature of 6-9, 18-20 - - Desirable, meaning of 65-7, 73 - - Desire, cause and object of 68-70, 73-4 - - Duty - = cause of or means to good 24-5, 105, 146-8, 167, 180, 223 - fuller definitions of 148, 161, 180-1, 222 - incapable of being known 149-50, 181 - mainly negative 218 - object of _psychological_ intuition 148 - relations to expediency 167-70, 181 - interest 170-1, 181 - possibility 150-2 - rightness 148 - utility 146-7, 167-70 - virtue 172 - will 160, 161 - not self-evident 148, 181 - self-regarding 168 - - - Egoistic Hedonism 18 - - Egoism, as doctrine of end 18, 96-105, 109 - contradiction of 99, 101-5, 109 - relation to Hedonism 97-8 - relation to Naturalistic Hedonism 104-5 - Sidgwick’s ‘Rational’ 98-9, 102-4 - - Egoism, as doctrine of means 96-7, 105, 167 - - Emotion - aesthetic 190 - value of 189-92, 199, 203, 204-5, 208, 209, 211, 212, 217, 224, 225 - - Empirical 39, 111, 123 - - Empiricism 103, 124-5, 130 - - End = effect 32 - - End = good in itself 18, 24, 64-6, 72, 73, 79-81, 83, 85, 94-5, 184, - 216 - dist. from ‘good as means’ 24, 72, 74, 79-81, 89, 90, 94-5, 106-7, - 173-4, 178, 216, 223 - ‘ultimate’ 51, 83, 85, 96-7, 99-102, 183, 189 - ‘never justifies means’ 147, 163 - - End = object of desire 68, 70, 71, 72 - - Enjoyment 77, 96, 188, 208 - aesthetic 188-9, 203 - of evil and ugly 208-11, 218 - sexual 95 - - Envy 211 - - Epistemology 133, 140-1 - - Ethics - Evolutionistic 46, 50, 54, 58 - Metaphysical 39, 58, 113-15 - Naturalistic 39-41, 58, 59 - Practical 115-18, 140, 146, 149, 151, 154, 180, 222 - province of 1-6, 21, 24, 26-7, 36, 37, 77, 115, 118, 142-6, 184, - 222-4 - - Eudaemonist 175 - - Evil 153, 156, 158, 160, 186, 193, 205, 207-14, 224, 225 - mixed 208, 209, 211 - positive value of 216-22, 225 - - Evolution 46-8, 54-8 - - Evolutionistic 46, 50, 52, 54, 58 - - Existence - dist. from being 110-12 - judgments about 123-5 - relation to value 115-18, 118-22, 125-6, 194, 196, 197-9, 206, 210, - 216, 219, 220, 221, 225 - - Expediency 167-70, 181 - - - Feeling - supposed analogy to cognition 129-31, 141 - supposed bearing on Ethics 129-31, 141 - - Fiction 121-2 - - Freedom, value of 86, 186 - - Freedom (of Will) 127 - - - God 82, 102-4 - love of 113, 194, 195-6, 200 - - Good - indefinable 6-16, 41, 79, 110-11, 142-4 - = means to good 21, 24 - the Absolute 183, 184, 186 - the Human 183, 184, 186 - mixed and unmixed 208, 209, 214, 215, 217, 219-20, 224 - my own 97-9, 101, 170 - ‘private’ 99 - _the_ 8-9, 18 - ‘Universal’ 99-102 - Will 174-5, 179 _n._ 2, 180 - - Green, T. H. 139 - - Guyau, M. 46 - - - Habit 171, 175-6, 177 - - Hatred 211, 214 - of beautiful and good 211, 217, 225 - of evil and ugly 178, 217, 218, 220, 221, 225 - - Health 42-3, 65, 157, 167 - - Heaven 115, 174, 183, 185, 195 - upon Earth 186 - - Hedonism 39, 52, 59-63, 90-1, 96, 108-9, 174 - Egoistic 18 - Ethical 70, 144 - Intuitionistic 59, 74-6, 144 - Naturalistic 46, 50, 53, 54, 68, 104, 105 - Psychological 18, 68, 69, 70, 73 - Universalistic 103 - - Hegel 30, 34, 110 - - Heteronomous 127 - - Higher 48-9, 78 - - Hobbes 97 - - Honesty 175-6 - - Hypothetical laws 22, 155 - - - Ideal - three meanings of 183-4 - _the_ 183, 185, 205-7, 220-1 - - Idealistic 130, 205 - - Imagination, value of 193, 194, 196, 197, 210, 219, 220, 221, 224 - - Imperative 128 - - Industry 157, 167 - - Intention 179 _n._ 1 - - Interest 102 - meaning of 97-8, 106, 170-1 - dist. from ‘duty’ 170-1, 181 - - Intrinsic - evil 207, 213, 218, 224 - value 17, 21, 25-30, 36, 147, 173-7, 187, 189, 207, 214-16, 222-4 - - Intuition - = proposition incapable of proof 59, 77, 108 - in psychological sense 75, 79, 85, 92, 108, 144, 148-9, 173 - - Intuitionism - in Sidgwick’s sense 59, 76, 144 - in proper sense 106, 148 - - - Judgment - error of 192-3 - two types of ethical 21, 23-7, 115, 146, 148, 222, 224 - - Justice 178 - - Justify 97, 101, 147, 163 - - - Kant 110, 129 - ‘Copernican revolution’ 133 - value of Good Will 174-5, 179 _n._ 2, 180 - value of Happiness 174-5 - theory of judgment 125 - ‘Kingdom of Ends’ 113 - ‘practical love’ 179 - connection of ‘goodness’ with ‘will’ 126-8 - - Knowledge - involves truth of object 132, 134 - involves belief 194 - value of 82, 86, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 211, 221 - - - Lasciviousness 209-10 - - Law - ethical 155 - hypothetical 22, 155 - legal 126, 128 - moral 126-8, 146, 148, 160, 162, 165 - natural 26, 29, 57, 126, 183, 186 - scientific 22-3, 124, 155 - - Legal 126, 128 - - Leibniz 125 - - Life 15, 46, 50, 52, 156 - - Logical - dependence 61, 110, 118, 122, 139, 143-4 - fallacy 140-1 - - Love - Christ and Kant on 179 - of beautiful and good 177-9, 199, 204, 217, 224 - of evil and ugly 209, 210, 211, 217, 225 - - Lucian 45 - - Lust 209-10, 218 - - Lying 154 - - - Mackenzie, Prof. J. S. 114, 120 - - Material qualities, value of 204, 205-7, 221, 225 - - Matter, value of 205-7 - - Meaning, ‘to have no’ 31, 34-5 - - Means = cause or necessary condition 18, 21-3, 89, 180 - dist. from ‘part of organic whole’ 27, 29-30, 32, 220 - goodness as, dist. from intrinsic value 21, 24, 26, 27, 37, 72, 74, - 79-81, 89, 90, 94-5, 106-7, 115, 118, 173-4, 178, 187, 195-6, - 197-8, 216, 223 - ‘not justified by end’ 147, 163 - - Mental - beauty of 203-5, 225 - value of 205-7 - - Mercy 178 - - Metaphysical 39, 58, 110-15, 139-40 - - Method - of discovering intrinsic value 20, 36, 59-60, 64, 89, 91, 92, 93, 95, - 142-5, 173, 185-6, 187-8, 195, 197-8, 206-7, 209, 223 - of discovering value as means 22-3, 146, 148-54, 172-3 - - Mill, J. S. 145 - Hedonism 63-81, 108 - naturalistic fallacy 40, 66-7, 69, 72-3, 74, 104, 108 - Psychological Hedonism 68, 72, 73-4 - quality of pleasure 77-81, 108 - Utilitarianism 104-5 - - Moral - approbation 171 - law 126-8, 146, 148, 160, 162, 165 - obligation 128 - sentiment 168, 178, 217-19 - - Motive 67, 70, 177, 178-80 - - Murder 148, 151, 154, 156-7, 178 - - - Natural - laws 26, 29, 57, 126, 183, 186 - objects and properties 13-14, 39-41, 58, 110-11 - selection 47 - - Natural = normal 42-4, 58 - - Natural = necessary 44-5, 58 - - Naturalism 20, 40, 58, 144 - - Naturalistic - Ethics 39-41, 58, 59 - fallacy 10, 13-14, 18-20, 38-9, 48, 57, 58, 61, 64, 66-7, 69, 72-3, - 74, 104, 108, 114, 118, 124, 125, 139, 173, 176, 201 - Hedonism 46, 50, 53, 54, 68, 104, 105 - - Nature 40-1, 110, 111, 112 - - Nature, life according to 41-2, 113 - - Nature, value of 188, 193, 195, 200, 206 - - Necessity - analytic 22, 33-4, 35, 220, 221 - causal or natural 29, 31-2, 34, 186, 187 - - New Testament 177, 178, 179 - - - Object - of cognition 141, 191, 192, 193, 211 - of desire 68-70 - natural 13-14, 39-41, 58, 110-11 - - Objective 82, 201 - - Obligation - moral 103, 128, 147 - - Obligatory 25, 148, 170 - - Organic relation, unity, whole - common usage 30-6 - my own usage 27-31, 32-3, 36, 93, 96, 149, 184, 187, 189, 190, 202, - 206, 208, 212, 215, 220, 223 - - Ought - to aim at 24-6, 100 - to do 26, 105, 115, 116, 117, 127, 128, 140, 146, 148, 173, 180, 223 - to be or exist 17, 115, 118, 127, 128, 148, 173, 180, 223 - - - Pain 64, 65, 210, 212-4, 217, 222-3, 225 - - Particular 3-4 - - Perception 111, 112, 134, 136 - - Pessimism 51, 53, 156 - - Plato - on Egoism 98 - on goods 178 - on Hedonism 88 - on value of Knowledge 199 - on universal truths 111 - - Pleasure 12-13, 16 - consciousness of 87-91, 109, 212 - as criterion 91-2, 108 - and desire 68-71, 73-4 - and ‘pleasures’ 79 - ‘quality of’ 77-81 - value of 39, 46, 50-4, 59-66, 71-2, 74-5, 79-81, 83, 85-96, 144, - 146, 171, 173, 174, 188, 205, 212-14, 222-3 - - Pity 217, 221 - - Positive science 39 - - Possible action 150-1 - - Practical 216, 221 - Ethics 115-18, 140, 146, 149, 151, 154, 180, 222 - Philosophy 2 - - Practice 2, 20 - - Praise 171 - - Preference 77-9, 131 - - Promises 157 - - Property, respect of 157 - - Propositions, types of 123-6 - - Prove 11, 65, 66, 74, 75-7, 99, 112, 137, 141, 143, 145, 169, 181 - - Prudence 168 - ‘Maxim of’ 102-4 - - Psychological 11, 130, 140, 148 - Hedonism 18, 68, 69, 70, 73 - - Punishment 164 - retributive or vindictive 214, 215, 216, 221 - - - Reason 143-4 - - Representative art 193 - - Reward 174 - - Right 18, 24-5, 105, 146, 180, 216, 218, 223 - dist. from ‘duty’ 148 - relation to expediency 167 - externally 176-7 - internally 179 _n._ 1 - - Romantic style 215-16 - - Rousseau 42 - - - Sanctions 159, 164 - - Secondary qualities 206 - - Self-evidence 143, 144, 148, 181 - - Self-realisation 113, 114, 120, 188 - - Self-sacrifice 170 - - Sensation 134 - - Sensationalist 130 - - Sidgwick, Henry 145 - value of beauty 81-4, 85-7 - on Bentham 17-19 - rationality of Egoism 99-103 - ‘good’ unanalysable 17 - Hedonism 59, 63, 64, 81-7, 91-6, 108-9 - ‘method’ of Intuitionism 59, 92-4 - value of knowledge 82, 86 - neglects principle of organic wholes 93 - pleasure as criterion 91-2, 94-5 - quality of pleasure 77, 81 - value of unconscious 81-4 - - Sins 161 - - Spencer, Herbert 46, 48-58 - - Spinoza 110, 113 - - Spiritual, value of 205-6 - - Summum Bonum 183, 205 - - Stoics 41, 110 - - Synthetic 7, 58, 143 - - - Taste, error of 192-3, 211 - - Taylor, A. E. 60 - - Temperance 157, 168 - - Theodicies 220 - - Tragedy 219, 221 - - Truth - relation to existence 111, 124-5 - cognition 130, 132-4, 136, 141, 196 - knowledge 134, 194 - types of 111-12, 124-5 - value of 85-6, 193-200, 208, 210, 211, 212 - - Tyndall 40 - - - Ugly 208, 209-11, 214, 216-19, 221 - - Ultimate end 51, 83, 85, 96-7, 99-102, 183, 189 - - Unity 222 - organic, see ‘Organic’ - - Universal - Good 99-102 - truths 21-3, 27, 57, 111, 126, 154-5, 181 - - Universalistic Hedonism 103 - - Useful 106, 146, 167 - - Utilitarianism 63, 96, 99, 104-7, 109 - - Utopias 183, 186 - - - Value - intrinsic 17, 21, 25-30, 36, 147, 173-7, 187, 189, 207, 214-16, 222-4 - as means 21, 174, 195-6 - negative 215, 216 - - Vice 171, 209, 211 - - Virtue - definition of 171-3, 181, 223 - three kinds of 175 - mixed 221 - relation to ‘duty’ 172 - value of 83, 85, 86, 87, 173-80, 181-2, 217-19, 221-2 - - Volition - supposed coordination with cognition 129-30, 133, 135-6, 141 - supposed bearing on Ethics 130, 136, 141 - - - Whole - good as a 208, 214-16, 219, 221 - good on the 214-16, 219, 220, 221 - organic, see ‘Organic’ - - Wickedness 220 - - Will - as criterion of value 137-8 - relation to duty 160, 161, 180 - the Good 174-5, 179 _n._ 2, 180 - supposed analogy to cognition 129-30, 135-6 - supposed bearing on Ethics 126-7, 128-31, 135-9, 141 - - Wrong 180, 218, 223 - - - - - PRINTED IN ENGLAND BY J. B. PEACE, M.A. - AT THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Principia Ethica, by George Edward Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCIPIA ETHICA *** - -***** This file should be named 53430-0.txt or 53430-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/3/53430/ - -Produced by Josep Cols Canals, Ramon Pajares Box and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |