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THE THEOEY
OF GOOD AND EVIL
A TREATISE ON MORAL PHILOSOPHY
HASTINGS
D.LITT. (OXFORD), HON. D.C.L. (DURHAM)
FELLOW AND TUTOR OF NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD
VOLUME II
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1907
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OP OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH
NEW YORK AND TORONTO
THE 'THEORY OF GOOD AND EVIL
BOOK II
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIETY
CHAPTEK I
THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS
I
HAVING now sketched the outlines of a system of Ethics,
I propose in the present book to examine some of the objections
which have been or may be made to the positions heretofore
taken up, and to consider some points of view more or less
opposed to my own. In replying to the objections I hope I may
be able to elucidate and develope, perhaps in some ways to
qualify and to correct, the conclusions at which we have
hitherto arrived.
The first of the objections with which I shall have to deal
cpncerns what has often been called the hedonistic calculus.
It has been maintained in these pages that the criterion of an
action what, constitutes it a right Or wrong is its tendency to
promote for all mankind a greatest quantity of good on the
whole. This implies that ' good ' admits of being measured, and
that particular elements in that good are likewise capable of
being measured, and of being compared with one another in
respect of their ultimate value. This assumption involves the
assertion both that (i) each one of the various goods in which
the ideal human life consists Virtue, Knowledge, pleasure, &c.
is capable of quantity, so that I can prefer one course of action
to another because it will promote more Virtue or more pleasure
than another ; and (a) that a given quantity of one kind of good
can be quantitatively compared with another, at least to this
extent, that there is a meaning in asserting that a given quantity
R ASH D ALL II B
2 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
of Virtue is worth more or le&s than a given quantity of pleasure.
Both of these assumptions have been denied.
I shall deal first with the denial that even goods of the same
kind are capable of quantitative measurement. I hardly know
whether the question has ever been explicitly raised as to the
higher goods Morality, Culture and the like but the possibility
of quantitative measurement has certainly been explicitly denied
with regard to pleasure. That is the first question therefore
with which we shall have to deal.
The doctrine that pleasures cannot be summed, that there is
no meaning in the idea of a sum of pleasures and that conse-
quently the * hedonistic calculus ' is impossible and unintelligible,
has long been maintained by a certain section of anti-utilitarian
writers, among whom it will be enough to mention the late Prof.
T. H. Green and Mr. Bradley. It must be confessed, however,
that it is not very easy to extract from either of these writers
the exact grounds or even the precise meaning of their con-
tention. Prof. Mackenzie in his Manual of Ethics and his
Introduction to Social Philosophy has performed a real service
by putting the doctrine into a form in which it is more easy to
subject it to examination and criticism. In the present chapter,
however, I shall not confine myself to what Prof. Mackenzie has
advanced, as what appear to me the misconceptions which
underlie his reasoning are widely diffused, and seem often to be
assumed in the language of writers who have been less lucid and
less explicit. My object is rather to get to the bottom of the
misunderstanding than to criticize any particular writer; I do
not therefore wish to be understood to hold Prof. Mackenzie
responsible for every argument that I may criticize except where
I expressly quote him.
At this stage of our discussion I need hardly repeat that I am
not in the least interested in the defence either of the hedonisfic
Psychology or of hedonistic Utilitarianism, both of which I
entirely reject on much the same grounds as those which would
be assigned by the writers I am criticizing writers with some
of whom I should largely agree in their general view of Ethics.
This is particularly the case with regard to Prof. Mackenzie, who
is quite free from that sectarian prejudice against Casuistry and
Chap, i, i] CAN PLEASURES BE SUMMED? 3
that dislike to the scientific treatment of practical problems
which are characteristic of several writers by whom the incom-
mensurability of pleasures has been maintained. I agree with
him in holding that pleasure is part of the good, though not the
whole of it, as a good but not the good. It would seem prima
facie to follow that ceteris paribus the course of action which
promises more pleasure must be preferred to one that promises
less ; and that, to ascertain whether an action should bo done,
I must ideally add together the pleasures or amounts of pleasure
likely to be attained by it, and compare them with the pleasure
promised by the alternative course. But here we are met by
a denial that it is possible to sum pleasures at all.
It will be well to quote in full a few attempts to state the
ground of this doctrine,
(i) We will begin with a passage from Green's Prolegomena to
Ethic* : l A " Summum Bonum " consisting of a greatest possible
sum of pleasures is supposed to be definite and intelligible, because
every one knows what pleasure is. But in what sense does
every one know it? If only in the sense that every one can
imagine the renewal of some pleasure which he has enjoyed, it
may be pointed out that pleasures, not being enjoyable in a sum
to say nothing of a greatest possible sum cannot be imagined
in a sum either *. Though this remark, however, might be to
the purpose against a Hedonist who held that desire could only
be excited by imagined pleasure, and yet that a greatest sum of
pleasure was an object of desire, it is not to the purpose against
those who merely look on the greatest sum of pleasures as the
true criterion, without holding that desire is only excited by
imagination of pleasure. They will reply that, though we may
not be able, strictly speaking, to imagine a sum of pleasures,
every one knows what it is. Every one knows the difference
between enjoying a longer succession of pleasures and a shorter
one, a succession of more intense and a succession of less intense
1 It is difficult to reconcile this statement with the admission * that there
may be in fact such a thing as desire for a sum or contemplated series of
pleasures' (Prolegomena to Ethics, 222). All that Green seems anxious to
establish in this section is that without a permanent self there would be no
such desire.
B 2
4 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
pleasures, a succession of pleasures less interrupted by pain and
one more interrupted. In this sense every one knows the
difference between enjoying a larger sum of pleasures and en-
joying a smaller sum. He knows the difference also, between
a larger number of persons or sentient beings and a smaller one.
He attaches therefore a definite meaning to the enjoyment of
a greater nett amount of pleasure by a greater number of beings,
and has a definite criterion for distinguishing a better action
from a worse, in the tendency of the one, as compared with the
other, to produce a greater amount of pleasure to a greater
number of persons.
' The ability, however, to compare a larger sum of pleasure
with a smaller in the sense explained as we might compare
a longer time with a shorter is quite a different thing from
ability to conceive a greatest possible sum of pleasures, or to
attach any meaning to that phrase. It seems, indeed, to be in-
trinsically as unmeaning as it would be to speak of a greatest
possible quantity of time or space. The sum of pleasures plainly
admits of indefinite increase, with the continued existence of
sentient beings capable of pleasure. It is greater to-day than it
was yesterday, and, unless it has suddenly come to pass that
experiences of pain outnumber experiences of pleasure, it will be
greater to-morrow than it is to-day ; but it will never be
complete while sentient beings exist. To say that ultimate good
is a greatest possible sum of pleasures, strictly taken, is to say
that it is an end which for ever recedes; which is not only
unattainable but from the nature of the case can never be more
nearly approached ; and such an end clearly cannot serve the
purpose of a criterion, by enabling us to distinguish actions
which bring men nearer to it from those that do not. Are we
then, since the notion of a greatest possible sum of pleasures is
thus unavailable, to understand that in applying the Utilitarian
criterion we merely approve one action in comparison with
another, as tending to yield more pleasure to more beings
capable of pleasure, without reference to a " Summum Bonum "
or ideal of a perfect state of existence at all ? But without such
reference is there any meaning in approval or disapproval at all ?
It is intelligible that without such reference the larger sum of
Chap, i, i] GREEN'S OBJECTIONS 5
pleasures should be desired as against the less ; on supposition
of benevolent impulses, it is intelligible that the larger sum
should be desired by a man for others as well as for himself.
But the desire is one thing; the approval of it the judgement
" in a calm hour " that the desire or the action prompted by it is
reasonable is quite another thing. Without some ideal how-
ever indeterminate of a best state of existence, with the
attainment of which the approved motive or action may be
deemed compatible, the approval of it would seem impossible.
Utilitarians have therefore to consider whether they can employ
a criterion of action, as they do employ it, without some idea
of ultimate good ; and, since a greatest possible sum of pleasures
is a phrase to which no idea really corresponds, what is the
idea which really actuates them in the employment of their
criterion 1 /
It will be observed that Green's objection is chiefly (i) to the
idea of a greatest possible sum of pleasure and to the theory which
finds in such a sum its ideal of human good. He does not deny
that pleasures are capable of being summed, and that it is
possible to compare the amount of pleasure on the whole which
an action will bring with the probable results of another. Green,
therefore, is in no way responsible for the view of his disciple,
that even such a calculation is impossible. Of this view we
may take Prof. Mackenzie as the representative.
(2) Prof. Mackenzie writes : ' Pleasures cannot be Summed. It
follows from this that there cannot be any calculus of pleasures
i. e. that the values of pleasures cannot be quantitatively esti-
mated. For there can be no quantitative estimate of things that
are not homogeneous. But, indeed, even apart from this consider-
ation, there seems to be a certain confusion in the Hedonistic
idea that we ought to aim at a greatest sum of pleasures. If
pleasure is the one thing that is desirable, it is clear that a sum
of pleasures cannot be desirable ; for a sum of pleasures is not
pleasure. We are apt to think that a sum of pleasures is
pleasure, just as a sum of numbers is a number. But this is
evidently not the case. A sum of pleasures is not pleasure, any
more than a sum of men is a man. For pleasures, like men,
1 Prolegomena to Ethics, 358, 359.
6 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
cannot be added to one another. Consequently, if pleasure is
the only thing that is desirable, a sum of pleasures cannot
possibly be desirable. If the Hedonistic view were to be adopted,
we ought always to desire the greatest pleasure i.e. we ought
to aim at producing the most intense feeling of pleasure that it
is possible to reach in some one's consciousness. This would be
the highest aim. A sum of smaller pleasures in a number of
different people's consciousnesses, could not be preferable to this
because a sum of pleasures is not pleasure at all The reason
why this does not appear to be the case, is that we habitually
think of the desirable thing for man not as a feeling of pleasure
but as a' continuous state of happiness. But a continuous state
of happiness is not a mere feeling of pleasure. It has a certain
objective content. Now if we regard this content as the desir-
able thing, we do not regard the feeling of pleasure as the one
thing that is desirable ; i. e. we abandon Hedonism V
For purposes of criticism it will be convenient to break up
the position of my opponents into three assertions, all of which
seem to be implied by Prof. Mackenzie but of which the last
might possibly be maintained without the second, or the last two
without the first. I shall begin, that is to say, with the more
extreme position, and then go on to the more moderate forms
of the doctrine which I am criticizing. I may say at once that
it is the first two which I am chiefly concerned to deny : the
third seems to me to raise a more subtle and debatable question,
and (while I am prepared to defend my thesis on this point)
I attach little importance to it, and would particularly insist
that failure to establish my position thereon should not be held
in any way to invalidate my argument in relation to the other
two. The three positions which I dispute are these:
(i) That a sum of pleasures is not a possible object of desire.
(a) That while the proposition this pleasure is greater or
more pleasant than that has a meaning, the judgement is not
quantitative.
(3) That even if one pleasure or sum of pleasures can be said
to be greater in amount than another, numerical values cannot,
1 Manual of Ethics, 4th ed., pp. 229, 230. Cf. the same writer's Introduction
to Social Philosophy, 2nd ed., pp. 222-228.
Chap, i, ii] CAN A SUM OF PLEASURES BE DESIRED ? 7
with any meaning, be assigned to two pleasures or sums of
pleasure ; so that there can never be any meaning in the
assertion * this pleasure is twice as great as that. 1
I may add that for the present I am dealing with the com-
parison o*f pleasures of the same kind or quality. Afterwards
I shall have something to say as to the comparison of pleasures
which ' differ in kind/ Meanwhile, the fact that I am confining
myself to pleasures of the same kind may perhaps be my excuse
if I take my illustrations for the most part from pleasures of
a low type, such as those of eating and drinking. I do so simply
because what I contend for is most clearly seen in the case of
such pleasures. I make this remark to deprecate the wrath
of critics who, while apparently not averse to a good dinner,
seem to wish it to be understood that the pleasantness of the
meal is to them a contemptible not to say regrettable accident
involved in the pursuit of some higher end, the nature of which
they never seem able to indicate with any precision. I need
hardly say that I have no desire to emphasize the importance
of the element contributed to human Well-being by those
pleasures of eating and drinking to which the actual conventions
of the most refined societies give a greater prominence than
it is easy to justify. But however low we place them, and
however strictly we think they ought to be limited, it seems
impossible to justify any indulgence whatever in such things
which goes beyond the imperative requirements of health and
efficiency, unless we treat pleasure even such pleasure as
a good.
II
Firstly, then, it is asserted that a sum of pleasures is not
a possible object of desire.
This position would appear to be maintained upon one of two
possible grounds :
(a) It may be regarded as a corollary of the still more
paradoxical doctrine that we never desire pleasure at all. This
may mean that we never desire a pleasure, or that we never
desire pleasure in general but always a particular pleasure.
8 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
Some writers would seem to deny the possibility of desiring
either a pleasure or pleasure in general.
What lies at the bottom of these assertions seems to be the
undeniable fact that it is impossible to enjoy pleasure in general
or pleasure taken apart from everything else. Whatf we enjoy
is always a particular content a pleasant sound, a pleasant
sensation, a pleasant activity, a pleasant idea. A man whose
consciousness was at any single minute full of nothing but
pleasure would be an impossible variety of lunatic : for he would
have to admit that he was pleased at just nothing at all.
Pleasure apart from the pleasant something is of course a pure
abstraction. When a man is said to desire pleasure, it is meant
undoubtedly that he desires pleasant things, and further that he
desires them simply because they are pleasant. Is not this
a possible state of mind ? It would seeni that there are those
who would be prepared to deny even this who would say that
even a particular pleasure, i. e. (of course) a particular pleasant
content, is not a possible object of desire. Such a doctrine claims
the high authority of the Master of Balliol :
' Further, ivhen the desire of pleasure thus arises, it is in us
combined with a consciousness for which pleasure cannot be the
sole or the ultimate end, a consciousness to which, as universal,
pleasure is not an adequate end. This may be shown in various
ways, the most obvious of which is to point out that pleasure
must be had in some object, for which there is a desire inde-
pendently of the pleasure it brings V
Now I have already contended that many probably most
of our desires are not desires for pleasure but 'disinterested
desires' or 'desires for objects/ and that in all such cases
the satisfaction of the desire gives pleasure because the object
has been desired; it is not desired, or at all events it is not
desired solely, because it is calculated that the attainment of the
given object will bring with it pleasure, and more pleasure than
1 Caird, The Critical Philosophy of Kant, II, p. 229. Prof. Taylor defends
the to me still stranger idea that, though pleasure need not arise from the
fulfilment of desire, * neither worth nor goodness can properly be ascribed to
it unless it is felt to be the realisation, in however unexpected a way, of
some previously formed idea, the satisfaction of some previously experienced
craving ' (The Problem of Conduct, p. 327).
Chap, i, ii] PLEASURES CAN BE DESIRED 9
could be attained by the pursuit of any other object then within
reach. As to what is commonly known as the ' hysteron-proteron
of the hedonistic psychology ' I have already insisted as strongly
on it as I know how to do. But the question before us is not whether
other things can be desired besides pleasures, but whether pleasures
are or are not capable of being desired at all. Certainly I do not
believe that an angry man desires vengeance because he has calcu-
lated from his own experience or the recorded experience of
others that the pleasures of vengeance are the sweetest. Cer-
tainly there are cases where a man gratifies his anger or his
desire of vengeance with the certain knowledge that his act
will entail pains which no impartial calculation of pleasures
could possibly conclude to be outweighed by the pleasure of
satisfied anger or revenge. (We are obliged to use the language
of common life, though of course upon the assumptions of the
hedonistic psychology there could not really be such a thing
as anger or passion of any kind.) Unquestionably there are
cases where the uplifted arm would not be stayed by the most
demonstrated certainty of the greatest sum of pleasures that
earth has to offer. But is all this equally true of cases where
a man desires to eat or drink something which experience has
shown to be pleasant ? The contention we are examining would
seem to involve the assertion that, when a man who is not
thirsty or in quest of health drinks port, he is impelled by
a desire of port port as such, port for port's sake. The
niceness of the port is, it would seem to be hinted, a quite
irrelevant circumstance. What he wants is port because it
is port, not port because it is nice. If that were so, it would
seem that the uplifted glass would not be put down even if some
fellow-reveller warned the drinker, ' Don't drink this, it is beastly.'
If the desire for port were based upon some antecedent desire
other than desire for the pleasure of port-drinking, it would
seem that the warning must necessarily pass unheeded. It may
possibly be urged that what the man wants is both port and
nice port : but that of course is to admit the opponent's case ;
the desire for pleasant sensation is one of his desires : he does
desire pleasant sensation just because it is pleasant, whatever he
desires or does not desire besides.
TO THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
There can be no doubt that many even of what are called our
sensual pleasures are conditioned by the presence of some desire
which cannot be described as a desire for pleasure, or by some
want or appetite of a kind which it is better perhaps to distinguish
from the more rational class of ' disinterested desires/ There is
a pleasure in getting warm when I am cold, in eating when I am
hungry, and so on. But are all pleasures of sense of this kind ?
Such a contention seems to be opposed to the most familiar experi-
ence. I certainly often rise from my chair and stand before the
fire, though I am not in the least cold, simply because experience
has shown me that the practice is attended with pleasure. The
continental stove may more than satisfy our desire of warmth,
but Englishmen persist nevertheless in preferring their un-
economical open fires. The medical profession would be ruined
if there were no pleasure in eating after hunger is satisfied,
or if such pleasure could not become the object of desire. More-
over, the pleasure is in many cases quite independent of any
previous desire at all whether for that pleasure or for anything
else. Where the pleasure arises from the satisfaction of desire,
the pleasure cannot be felt when the desire is absent. If know-
ledge is forced on those who have no desire for knowledge,
its attainment is often found by no means conducive to pleasure.
But the teetotaler's appreciation of rum and milk might be by no
means lessened by the fact that the rum had been surreptitiously
introduced into the innocent beverage for which his soul had
craved. That the pleasures of smell and sight and hearing
are independent of previous desire attracted the especial notice
of Plato. And while this independence of previous desire is
characteristic of certain kinds of mere sensation, it is not limited
to sensual pleasures. It is especially, I think, characteristic
of the aesthetic pleasures. My appreciation of a landscape or
a picture is in no way diminished because it comes in my way
at a moment when I am thinking of something quite different,
And if it be said that it appeals to me only because it satisfies
a permanent desire for the beautiful which is capable of being
aroused by the presentation of that which will satisfy it, one
may ask, How in the first instance is the desire of beauty
aroused ? ' Is it normally the case that people are led to the
Chap, i, ii] DESIRE FOR PLEASURE IN GENERAL n
search for beauty by a craving for what they have never ex-
perienced as many both of the highest desires and of the lowest
appetites do undoubtedly exist before they have received any
satisfaction at all ? Is it not rather some new, some unsought
for, some wholly unanticipated experience of the pleasantness
of beholding beautiful things which first rouses the desire to see
more beautiful things ?
I cannot but think that few even of those who deny the
possibility of a 'sum of pleasures' will agree with Dr. Caird
in holding that even particular pleasures cannot be the object
of desire. But then it may be said : ' Yes, a pleasure may be
desired, but not pleasure a particular pleasure but not pleasure
in general.' I have already admitted that we can never desire
to enjoy pleasure alone ; the pleasure must always come from
some feeling, thought, or volition. So obvious a truism has
so far as I am aware, never been denied. But need we always
set our heart upon the enjoyment of some particular pleasant
thing? There is something in common between all the things
which give us pleasure : and that something is surely capable of
being made the object of pursuit. When a boy begins to smoke,
he is certainly not influenced by the desire of the characteristic
smoker's pleasure, which he has never enjoyed and will not enjoy,
very probably, for some time to come. There can be no image
before his mind of a definite pleasant content ; he does not know
what the smoker's pleasure is, but he knows what pleasure in
general is, and knows that he likes all kinds of pleasure. His
notion of pleasure is made up by abstraction from all the
pleasures he has ever enjoyed ; there is no image of any
particular pleasure before his mind. And, when he has gathered
from the relation of credible witnesses that smoking is a source
of pleasure, that is enough to set him in pursuit of it. If
a booth were set up in a fair with the announcement ' Pleasure
here 6cZ./ it is possible that it would not attract a large number
of sixpences because there might be doubts as to the probabilities
of the promised article being really supplied ; but it does seem
to me a strange position to deny the psychological possibility
of some one individual paying his sixpence, not (as it is very
likely some would do) for the pleasure of satisfying curiosity
12 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
but with the definite expectation of getting a fair sixpennyworth
of enjoyment, and a broad-minded indifference as to the par-
ticular species supplied so long of course as it was a pleasure
to him.
I feel some diffidence in attempting a solemn argument in
defence of a thesis which (with all respect for the eminent
persons who deny it) seems to me so obviously true ; and I
confess I find it difficult to understand what exactly it is that
is really meant to be denied when it is said that pleasure
cannot be an object of desire. Is it the obvious fact that what
we each care about is not all pleasure equally, but the particular
pleasures which appeal to us? That is quite true, but then
of course that which gives me no pleasure will not satisfy my
desire of pleasure ; nor shall I be much influenced by a desire for
the pleasures which, though they are pleasant, I care little about,
or which cannot be attained without sacrificing objects about
which I care more than for such pleasures perhaps more than
for any pleasure small or great. Or is it implied that, though
I do desire all pleasant things which really are pleasant to me,
I do not desire them in proportion to their pleasantness? I
agree, but that is only to say that I desire other things besides
pleasure, and moreover that (speaking generally) the pleasures
best worth having spring from the satisfaction of desires other
than the desire for pleasure. All that has been admitted. What
I contend for is that it is possible for a man to desire and that
all or almost all men do desire pleasant things simply because
they are pleasant, and that, ceteris pavibus (where no difference
of quality enters into the consideration and where no other desire
would be thwarted), they desire the pleasanter things more than
those that are less pleasant. That is what I understand to
be meant by the assertion that pleasure (and not merely par-
ticular pleasures) is a possible object of desire.
There is one more line of argument which I would briefly
suggest. Will those who deny that we desire pleasure, maintain
that we have no aversion to pain? Here it can hardly be
contended that it is merely certain particular psychical states
which merely happen to be painful which inspire aversion,
or that it is not the pain as such that we try to avoid, but
Chap, i, ii] WE AVOID ALL PAIN 13
merely the frustration of some other desire, of which pain is
a mere accidental accompaniment. It is, of course, often the
case that pain is the symptom of something organically wrong,
and again ^hat mental pains do largely result from the frustra-
tion of some desire. Bub there are many conditions of body
to which we should have no objection for any other reason
than that they happen to be painful. Who would care about
being told by a Physiologist that certain thrills are coursing
down his nerves, if they did not reveal themselves in painful
sensation : or that there was caries in his tooth, if he could
be sure that the tooth would never become either painful or
less useful? If you will insist on abstracting the content of
pain from the pain itself, it is surely the pain that we avoid,
not the content. We avoid pains, the content of which we know
nothing about. We do not think it necessary to try new pains
which we cannot without experience even picture to the im-
agination, under the expectation that, though other pains are
to be avoided, it might turn out that this pain was rather
desirable than otherwise. If we know that the psychical state
produced by such and such a bodily affection is painful, that
is quite enough for us. Unless they suppose the pain to be
a means to something other than itself or an inseparable element
in some other good, all rational men avoid it : and it will hardly
be denied that they avoid the severer pains more than the less
severe. All pains are to them an object of aversion, and objects
of aversion in proportion to their painfulness. That is what
is meant by saying that pain as such is an object of aversion.
I do not know that any one who admits that pain is an object
of aversion but still denies that pleasure is a possible object
of desire can be convicted of any actual logical inconsistency :
but the position is, to say the least of it, a singular one.
(6) But, as I have already indicated, there are writers whose
denial that pleasures can be summed or that a sum of pleasures
can be desired does not carry with it the assertion either that
pleasures are not possible objects of desire or even that pleasure in
general may not become the object of pursuit. Their objection to
a summation of pleasures rests upon other grounds ; and seems
for the most part (so far as I can gather) to be based upon the
14 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
very simple fact that we cannot enjoy a sum of pleasures all
at once that a sum of pleasures is not capable of existing
altogether at a given moment of time. Perhaps the best way
of dealing with this objection will be to point out that the
contention is as fatal to the existence of a desire for pleasure,
or even for one single definite pleasure, as to the desire for a sum
of pleasures. The briefest pleasure occupies a sensible time :
and there is no time that cannot conceivably be subdivided into
two halves. If, therefore, I cannot desire anything which I
cannot have all at once, I could not desire either pleasant
consciousness in general or any particular state of consciousness
which is pleasant. The argument in fact goes further than this :
it would prove not merely that pleasure cannot be desired, but
that there can be no such thing as pleasure, since an indivisible
point of pleasure could not be felt at all and therefore would not
be pleasure. If so, of course, cadit quaestio. But I must ask
to be excused from attempting the task of proving to the sceptic
that the word pleasure signifies something which has actual
existence \ Assuming that there is such a thing as pleasure,
it must (at least for human beings here and now) be in time :
and the time or the temporal state that is incapable of division
is not time or in time at all. We have heard, of course, of
the timeless self and its aspirations after a good which, though
it is not in time, is, it seems, to have a beginning, and to be
capable of being brought about by human acts which take place
within the time-series : but I am not aware that the supporters
of the timeless self have usually assigned to it a timeless pleasure 2 .
At all events, if any such thing there be, it must be something
quite different from what I and, I am persuaded, the majority
of my readers understand by the word. AH I understand
a sum of pleasures, every pleasure is really a sum of pleasures :
1 The reader may possibly demand at this point a definition. Something
will be said on this subject at the end of the next chapter. Here I will only
remark that most of the attempts at definition fail so grotesquely that I feel
little inclination to add to the number.
2 It is true that Dr. McTaggart has suggested the possibility for beings
in another state of a ' timeless pleasure,' but he does not regard such a
pleasure as possible in our present condition. As far as this life is con-
cerned, he admits the possibility of a ' sum of pleasures.'
Chap, i, ii] EVERY PLEASURE IS A SUM 15
it is impossible to desire pleasure at all without desiring a sum
of pleasures. What I understand by the assertion that I desire
a sum of pleasures is that I desire to enjoy pleasure as intense
as possible, and for as long as possible that I desire two
minutes' pleasure more than I desire one minute of the same
pleasure, and further that I regard the intensity of one pleasant
moment as something which can be equated with the duration
of another pleasant state ; so that, on comparing the duration and
intensity of pleasure which will be secured by one course of
conduct with the duration and intensity of pleasure which I may
win by another, I can pronounce which on the whole appears
to me to possess the greatest pleasure-value, and can (in so far
as I am in pursuit of pleasure to the disregard of other con-
siderations) determine my action by that judgement.
Professor Green's argument against the idea that something
which cannot be enjoyed all at once can be the swnmnm bonum
does not directly concern us here, but it seems to me open to
much the same objections as have been urged against the denial
that a sum of pleasures is a possible object of desire. His
argument seems to amount to the assertion that a sum of
pleasures cannot be made the object of pursuit because you
can never reach it, while a greatest possible sum of pleasures
is a contradiction in terms, since when you have enjoyed any
given amount of pleasure, it is always still possible to desire
more. I should myself be prepared to contend that any other
view of the ethical end is liable to the same objection, since
any good for man must be in time, and can never be seized
once for all as a Krf/jza t$ &ti\ I am not, however, arguing that
a sum of pleasures is the true ethical end, but only that it is
an intelligible object of pursuit. To aim at a greatest possible
sum of pleasures means to endeavour that as much pleasure
should be got into a given time as possible and that the time in
which we are enjoying pleasure should be as long as possible.
Nobody, I take it, has ever maintained the possibility of arriving
at a sum of pleasures in any other sense. The greater durability
of some sources of satisfaction as compared with others is no doubt
an important reason for the higher value we attribute to them, but
the consciousness which enjoys even the most spiritual good must
16 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
be in time ; the enjoyment of it can never be so far exhausted that
we can say that an addition to it would be no addition to the
good hitherto enjoyed. To argue that a sum of pleasures cannot
be the good because they cannot be enjoyed all at oroe is about
as reasonable as to argue that the virtues cannot be the good
because they cannot all be practised in an ' atomic now ' or even
during the same five minutes 1 .
Ill
(2) It is asserted that whereas the proposition ' this pleasure
is greater than that* has a meaning, the judgement is not
quantitative.
The idea that degree involves quantity has been pronounced
by Prof. Mackenzie a crude notion 2 ; but it is a crude notion
which has commended itself (unless I greatly misunderstand
them) to Kant, to Prof. Bosanquet 3 , and on the whole to Mr. Bradley.
I do not propose to discuss the matter more in detail as a matter
of pure Logic, but will simply refer to Mr. Bradley's very subtle
paper on the question : ' What do we mean by the intensity of
psychical states ? 4 ' I do not underrate the difficulty, insisted
upon by Mr. Bradley with his usual penetration, of saying
exactly what it is that there is more of in one psychical state
a state of pleasure or a state of heat than in another. But
Mr. Bradley, though his discussion is aporetic, seems to be
indisposed to deny that, however this question be answered,
1 ' So long as we exist in time, the supreme good, whatever it is perfec-
tion, self-realisation, the good will will have to manifest itself in a series
of states of consciousness ' (McTaggart, Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, p. 109).
* It will, I believe, be found . . . that, reasonably or unreasonably, we are con-
tinually making calculations of pleasures and pains, that they have an
indispensable place in every system of morality, and that any system which
substitutes perfection for pleasure as a criterion of moral action also in-
volves the addition and subtraction of other intensive quantities. If such
a process is unjustifiable, it is not hedonism only, but all ethics, which will
become unmeaning 1 (ib., p. in).
2 Social Philosophy, and ed., p. 230.
8 ' A quality that changes, and yet remains the same quality, has passed
into quantity * (Principles of Logic, I, p. 118).
4 Mind, N. S., Vol. IV (1895). Cf Ethical Studies, p. 107.
Chap, i, iii] DEGREE IMPLIES QUANTITY 17
the judgement is quantitative. And I find it difficult to
treat seriously the assertion to the contrary. We certainly
say : ' This is more pleasant than that V The position that
the word *more does not involve the idea of quantity is so
startling that I must excuse myself from further discussion
of it until it be developed in more detail than has yet been
the case. It is true that ' intensive quantity ' is not the same
thing as ' extensive quantity ' ; but if ' intensive quantity ' has
nothing in common with ' extensive quantity * why do Philosophy
and Common Sense alike call each of them * quantity ' ?
Whatever be thought of the logical doctrine that degree
does not involve quantity, it is enough for my present purpose
if it be admitted that one whole state of, consciousness of a
certain character is pronounced more pleasant than another,
provided it be conceded also: (a) that the total pleasure in
each case is made up of a number of successive moments;
(b) that a certain degree of intensity is actually judged to
be the equivalent of and may influence desire and volition
as the equivalent of a certain degree of duration : in other
words, that a man in pursuit of pleasure may choose, and may
judge it reasonable to choose, a less pleasure for a longer time
rather than an intenser pleasure for a shorter time ; (c) that
a whole pleasant state may be analysed into various distinguish-
able elements.
The first two of these propositions can hardly, as it seems
to me, be denied without going the length of saying that the
duration of a pleasure, if it only be intense enough, is a matter
of absolute indifference to us. And it has been contended by
1 That Mr. Bradley believes it possible to sum pleasures may, I think, be
inferred from his elaborate discussions as to whether, in the Absolute, there
is or is not a ' balance of pleasure/ Such passages as the following could
have no meaning if it were not possible to add pleasure and pain together,
arrive at their sum and subtract the pleasure from the pain or the pain from
the pleasure : ' We found that there is a balance of pleasure over and
above pain, and we know from experience that in a mixed state such a
balance may be pleasant. And we are sure that the Absolute possesses and
enjoys somehow this balance of pleasure. But to go further seems impossible .
Pleasure may conceivably be so supplemented and modified by addition, that
it does not remain precisely that which we call pleasure * (Appearance and
Reality, p. 534).
j8 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
Prof. Mackenzie that those who maintain the possibility of
adopting the hedonistic calculus as a guide in conduct are involved
in some such absurdity.
* But, it may be said, we can surely estimate pleasures at least
with reference to their duration. I may be aware that at each
of two successive moments I have a pleasure of approximately
the same degree ; and I may thus be entitled to say that the
pleasures of these two moments taken together are twice as
great as the pleasure of one of them alone would have been.
Surely i -f i = 2. Now, to this the obvious answer is that it is
indeed true that i + 1 = 2, but it is also true that i + I i = i.
When the second pleasure is added the first is taken away,
and there is only one left. If I have only one pleasure now,
I am none the richer for the fact that I had another before.
It is true that I may survey my life as a whole, and perceive
that I was pleased at so many different moments ; and it might
be an amiable hobby on my part to try to make the number of
pleasant moments as large as possible. But I should not be
any the better off for such an effort. At the present moment
I am just as happy as I am, and no happier: I am not also
as happy as I was, or as happy as I shall be. In the past, on
the other hand, I was as happy as I was ; and in the future
I shall be as happy as I shall be. Every moment stands on its
own basis ; and the number of moments makes no difference to
the happiness of life as a whole, because, according to such
a view, life is not a whole. " A short life and a merry one " is
as happy as a long one. A moment of blessedness ' [upon the
hypothesis that pleasures can be summed] * would be as good as
an eternity, because the eternity would only go on repeating the
blessedness and not increasing it V
I can only say that most of us would attach considerable
value to what Prof. Mackenzie dismisses with a contemptuous
' only/ If we could attain this moment of blessedness, that is
exactly what we should want that it should be repeated as
often as possible. There is no arguing about these matters of
psychological experience and ethical judgement. I can only say
that as a matter of fact I would not take the trouble to walk
1 Social Philosophy, pp. 231, 232.
Chap, i, iii] NO HUMAN GOOD TIMELESS 19
across the street to get a moment of blessedness if I were
assured that the blessedness would occupy my consciousness
only for ~^ of a second l . I will add once more a reminder
too of tea forgotten in the polemics of an ti- hedonists of the
parallel case of pain. Prof. James has somewhere remarked
that the utmost degree of torture of which human consciousness
is capable would be a matter of supreme indifference to him if he
could be assured that it would last only some intinitesimal time.
Would Prof. Mackenzie be prepared to say that, if condemned to
such a torture, it would be a matter of indifference to him how
long it went on ?
Now it is true that Prof. Mackenzie is here indulging in
what appears to him a reductio ad absurdum of the hedonistic
view of Ethics. But I fail to see how he can himself escape
adopting such a consequence as his own except by insisting that
the good, which is the true end of human life, is something out
of time altogether, a view which, however unintelligible, is open
to writers like Green who did not regard pleasure as a good
at all, but does not seem to be open to those who, like Prof.
Mackenzie, do regard pleasure as a good and part of the good.
There is just the same logical difficulty about any view which
admits pleasure to be a good at all. A pleasure, however brief,
can be enjoyed only while it is there : it can be enjoyed after-
wards only in so far as the recollection of the past pleasure
is itself a fresh pleasure. It is true that the possibility of
such recollection implies the belief in a continuous or permanent
self which is denied by such writers as Hume; but Hume's
view of the self is not involved in the recognition of the hedon-
istic calculus as a possible and (as far as it goes) a rational
proceeding. If pleasure be of any importance at all, it must
follow, it seems to me, that ceterix par'djus its importance must
be proportional to its duration. And, as I have already sug-
1 If what is wanted is a timeless ' blessedness,' though personally I attach no
meaning to such an expression, we may usefully remember Dr. McTaggart's
distinction: 'Absolute perfection the supreme good is not quantitative.
But we shall not reach absolute perfection by any action which we shall
have a chance of taking to-day or to-morrow. And of the degrees of per-
fection it is impossible to speak except quantitatively * (Studies in Hegelian
Cosmology, p. 113).
ao THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
gested, exactly the same line of objection may be taken to
regarding as the good any possible state of a conscious being
which is in time. If it may be argued that, supposing pleasure
to be the good, a moment of it ought to be as good as an
eternity, then why not a moment of holiness or a moment of
'Self -realization 1 ? If the ' self-realization ' which Prof. Mac-
kenzie wants is not in time at all, how can it be an object of
human effort ? If it is in time, would he not think a longer
duration of it better than a shorter ?
If then duration of pleasure is desired as well as intensity
of pleasure, will it be denied that, in choosing between two
pleasures (i. e. between the psychical consequences of alternative
acts of choice), we do balance duration against intensity, and
choose that which promises most pleasure on the whole the
discomforts of a four hours' passage on a good boat against
the horrors of two hours on a bad one, or (if income be severely
limited) the three hours of fierce delight (plus a certain amount
of retrospective pleasure afterwards) which five shillings will
buy at a theatre against the calmer but more prolonged enjoy-
ment of a five-shilling book ? This is all at bottom that is meant
by the much-decried idea of a hedonistic calculus all perhaps
that it is absolutely necessary to contend for. But there is,
as I have suggested, one point more not perhaps absolutely
essential to the idea, but usually implied in it, and it is this
probably which is most apt to be denied by the more moderate
of those who object to the expression ' sum of pleasures '
and that is the notion that the total whole of pleasant conscious-
'ness is made up of distinguishable elements. I say distin-
guishable, i.e. logically distinguishable, not capable of actual
separation. My consciousness at any given moment is no doubt
a whole which cannot be separated into parts like a material
object, but it in possible to distinguish in the total ' psychosis '
many different elements. Sometimes the elements are capable
of being distinguished even to the extent of retaining ap-
proximately when in combination the pleasurableness or pain-
fulness which they have when separate. Thus I may be
conscious at one and the same time of a pain in my toe,
another in my head, and a pleasant interest in the story that
Chap, i, iii] PLEASURES ARE COMMENSURABLE 21
I am reading. At other times, and this is generally the case,
no doubt, where no definitely localized pain enters into con-
sciousness, the elements seem so far fused together that it
is only by ,a considerable effort of reflection (aided by memories
which enable me to apply the method of difference or of con-
comitant variations) that I can distinguish how much of my
total pleasant state is due to the different elements. That
is the case, for instance, when I ask myself how much of
the general sense of exhilaration which I have experienced
at a pleasant party was due to the dinner, how much to the
champagne, how much to the company; or when I attempt
to say how much of my depression is due to biliousness and
how much to the disappointment or annoyance on which at
such seasons I may be apt to brood.
And yet, in spite of all the difficulties of such discrimination,
we do make such distinctions in reflecting upon past pleasures,
and we use the result of such experiences in guiding our choice
for the future. We have two invitations for the same night. We
might say to ourselves : * True, A's dinner will be less sumptuous
than JS's, but I like B's superior wine better than A's superior
cookery, and the conversation will be much better. Therefore
to B's I will go, and A's invitation I will decline/ It is true
of course and this seems to be the only serious difficulty in
treating such cases as a summation of pleasures that the
hedonistic value of a pleasure in combination with others may be
something quite different from its value when taken by itself,
or rather (since we never do enjoy an assignable pleasure
absolutely ' by itself ') when experienced in a different psychical
setting or context. The dinner which helps us to enjoy the
evening in pleasant company would simply bore the man who is
not a gourmand, if consumed in solitude or in the company
of dull persons. The values that we sum are altered by the
summing or rather by the combination. And this objection may
be treated as fatal to the whole idea of a 'sum of pleasures/
But after all it is not the values that they have in separation but
the values that they have as elements in the whole that we are
summing; though our experience of them in separation or in
other surroundings may be more or less of a help in estimating
22 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
how much they will contribute to our enjoyment of the total
consciousness into which they enter. It is true that my enjoy-
ment of a certain man's company may be either greater or less
when I meet him in a Swiss hotel than when I meet him in
a College common-room: but that does not prevent my ex-
perience of his society in Oxford leading me to think that
his presence will be a material addition to my enjoyment at
such and such a Swiss hotel and determining me to go there
in preference to one which I should otherwise have decidedly
preferred. It is then undeniable (as it seems to me) that we can
distinguish elements in a whole of pleasant consciousness. The
society of my friend and the enjoyment of Alpine scenery may
give me a total of pleasure both greater and different in kind
than I should derive from the two taken separately. But that
does not prevent my putting together in my mind the probable
enjoyment which I shall derive from the scenery and the prob-
able enjoyment which I shall derive from the company of my
friend, and recognizing that the two elements go to form a
whole of pleasure which is greater than either. If on comparing
any two whole psychoses I find that one would be preferable to
the other but would become less desirable when a certain assign-
able element is taken away, there is surely a real meaning in
saying that such a whole of pleasure is a sum of pleasures. No
doubt, as the Logicians remind us, the whole is something more
than the sum of its parts ; but the expressions ' whole ' and ' part '
have a real meaning for all that: the whole is the sum of its
parts, though it is something more. Or to take a more concrete
and material parallel, I may judge how many pailfuls of water
it will take to fill a cistern by adding together the capacity
of each pail, though I must not forget to allow for the con-
siderable quantity which will be lost in the process of adding
them together, or the quantity that will be added if it is raining.
IV
(3) There remains for discussion our third and last thesis:
that, though one pleasure may be greater than another, it can
never be described as twice as greatthat degrees of pleasure
cannot be numerically expressed.
Chap, i, iv] NUMERICAL MEASUREMENT 23
The question raised by this assertion is to my mind much
more difficult and debatable than any that we have so far
discussed, and the assertion that pleasures do admit of arith-
metical measurement is in no way necessary to justify us in
talking abdut a sum of pleasure or a hedonistic calculus. I hasten
to add that as a general rule our judgements about pleasure are
expressed in the form of ' more ' or ' less/ not of so many times
more or less. It is only in the simplest cases that we can
attempt to compare pleasures with so much nicety ; and, as such
judgements are of no practical use, we do not commonly make
them. Still, I am prepared to maintain that the judgement
' this pleasure is twice as great as that ' is not absolutely without
meaning. In the first place, it appears to me self-evident that
the value of a pleasure is dependent upon its duration, and that
two minutes of a given pleasure may be fairly said to be twice
as pleasant as one minute of it if it is really the same pleasure
and is not diminished by satiety. Further, if it be admitted
that we are in the habit of equating the intensity of pleasure
with a certain duration of it, it would seem possible to indicate
our sense of the comparative intensity of two pleasures by
expressing them (so to speak) in terms of duration. If it is
a matter of indifference to me whether I enjoy one minute
of one pleasure or two minutes of another, I may reasonably be
said to regard the one pleasure as twice as pleasant as the other l .
Even in far more complicated cases even in estimating the
extent to which various elements contribute to a total state
of continuous pleasure it does not seem to be meaningless
to express one's sense of the comparative value of the different
elements by assigning to them numerical values. In comparing
one friend's dinners with another's there would be nothing
unmeaning though for many practical reasons we rather avoid
such exact mensuration of pleasures in assigning so many
marks to the dinner, so many to the wine, so many to the
conversation with (if you like) a few plus or minus marks
for the arrangement of the table, the post-prandial music and
1 ' I feel no hesitation in affirming that the pleasure I get from a plate of
turtle-soup is more than twice the pleasure I get from a plate of pea-soup '
(McTaggait, I.e., p. 117).
24 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
so on. We might express our sense of the comparative enjoy-
ment afforded by the two entertainments and the extent to
which each element contributes to the total, by assigning marks
to each such element and then adding them together. I admit
that such numerical expressions would in general "be wholly
useless, but it would correctly express the sort of way in which
we do make up our minds between alternative courses by a
mental or ideal summation of the pleasure which we expect
to derive from them. When we have decided on which side the
balance lies, we usually stop, because when we have determined
that we are going to prefer A'n entertainment to J?'s, no purpose
is served by attempting to estimate or to express the degree
of our preference. As a general rule there would be no use
in such an attempt, but it is possible with a little ingenuity
to imagine circumstances in which it would be of use. If
a prize were offered to the host who would give us most pleasure
in the course of six entertainments with or without a certain
limit to the expense, the judges in such a competition would,
I imagine, have to record their impressions of each entertainment
in some such way very much as a man who is judging prize
poems might quite intelligibly (though I do not recommend the
method) arrive at his decision by assigning so many marks for
language, so many for ideas, so many for rhythm, and so on.
To avoid an irrelevant objection I admit at once that it is very
rarely only, perhaps, in regard to the choice of mere amusements,
and not always then that we do make our conduct depend
upon such purely hedonistic calculations, unmodified by other
considerations. But, if there seems to be something rather
tasteless and repellent about the analysis of these hedonistic
calculations for ourselves, we have constantly to make them for
others. A man who has determined to provide a school treat
for a number of children, and to devote thereto a definite sum of
money, aims, I suppose, at producing a maximum of pleasure ;
though I have heard a Moral Philosopher of some distinction
gravely express a doubt as to whether the good will could ever
express itself by giving pleasure to others. The giver of such a
treat knows that, if he provides fireworks, he must cut down the
prizes for races, that if he gives the children a better class
Chap, i, iv] ALLEGED PARALLEL OF HEAT 25
of cake he will not be able to give them sweets too, and so on.
If it helped him (and it is quite possible that it would help
an old Schoolmaster) to express the value of the pleasure which
each shilling expended in different ways would buy by assigning
marks to ach item and then totting them up, I do not see that
there would be anything essentially unmeaning or irrational
about his procedure. No doubt in such cases our estimates are
exceedingly rough, but that does not make it actually impossible
to express our judgement in numbers. It is far easier to say
that one flock of sheep is bigger than another than to say by
how many it is bigger, but that does not alter the fact that
if one flock is bigger than another, it is because it contains more
sheep. Our estimate is none the less quantitative because it
is vague l .
But I have not yet done justice to Prof. Mackenzie's strongest
argument. He tells us that the proposition 'this is twice as
pleasant as that/ is as unmeaning as the judgement ' this is
twice as hot as that/ Now it is to my mind undeniable that in
the case of sensible heat or of any other sensations which admit
of being arranged in a scale, quantitative measurement is essen-
tially impossible. But I contend that pleasure does not belong
to this category at all, and I will try to show why. The reason
why it is impossible to express degrees of sensible heat quantita-
tively is that there is no equivalence between the difference be-
tween any two degrees of sensible heat and the difference between
any two other degrees 2 . Let the line A Z represent the various
possible degrees of sensible heat ranging from a coldest A to
a hottest Z (of course I do not attempt to answer the physio-
logical question whether there is a minimum or maximum of
possible sensible heat).
A B C D E F Z.
The reason why I cannot mark off this line into degrees to which
I might assign numbers like the numbers which express the de-
1 Attempts have been made to show that such judgement may be only
qualitative (e. g. the unreflecting and unanalysed judgements of savages) ;
but they are not convincing.
9 It may be that for many practical purposes it may conveniently be
assumed that the degree of sensible heat will correspond to the degree of
the physical stimulus.
a6 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
grees of physical heat on a thermometer is that I cannot say that
D is as much hotter than C as F is hotter than X *. But in com-
paring pleasures I have no difficulty in doing this 3 . If I would as
1 This position is admirably defended by M. Bergson in his Essav sur les
donntes immtdiates de la Conscience (4 me ed., 1904), pp. 42 seq. I cannot,
however, follow him in his attempt to show that there is no meaning even
in saying that one psychical state is more intense than another that
psychical states differ only qualitatively, and that there is no such thing
as intensive quantity. Is it possible to deny that we can arrange feelings
of heat or sensations of blue in a scale entirely apart from the association of
these sensations with their physical causes ? M. Bergson demands what it
is of which there is more in one such state than another. No doubt this
' something more ' is something which cannot be isolated and experienced
by itself : we do not, in experiencing a sensation of dark blue, experience
a sensation of light blue -f another distinct sensation. That would no doubt
involve the fallacy of * mental chemistry.' But in denying that a sensation
of light blue has in it something in common with a sensation of dark blue,
he seems to fall into the fallacy of psychological Atomism. He does well to
insist on the uniqueness of all psychical experience. It is true that our
concept of blue is not any particular sensation with all its particularity,
and that each degree of a sensation has a quality of its own which cannot be
expressed quantitatively : but, unless conceptual thought could detect some-
thing common in various experiences of oneself or others, it would not only
be an inadequate representation of reality, but would have no resemblance
or correspondence to it whatever : it would be a mere delusion to suppose
that one mind could know anything whatever of another's mental state, or
even of its own past states. Surely psychical states may resemble each
other, and resemble in different degrees : M. Bergson would find it hard
to refute Mr. Bradley's doctrine that resemblance = identity -f difference.
Still more unsuccessful does M. Bergson seem to me in his attempt to show
that there is no quantity even in real ' duration ' (duration as it is actually
experienced). He is highly instructive in pointing out many mistakes
which have originated in the transference to Time of the characteristics of
Space : he is less convincing when he contends that Time and Space have
nothing whatever in common : and that the application of the idea of
Quantity to mental states arises not merely from a transference, but from an
illegitimate transference of spatial ideas to the case of time. But this ques-
tion is too large a one to be discussed here : suffice it to say that I admit it is
only because we estimate a certain duration of a pleasure to be of equal value
to a certain increase of intensity that we can intelligibly think of the
interval between a degree of pleasure A and a degree B as being as great as
that between B and C, and so speak of a greater or less sum of pleasure.
Those who deny this ought to follow M. Bergson in denying that we can
measure even the duration of pleasures.
8 Of course from the merely hedonistic point of view.
Chap, i, iv] ILLUSTRATIONS 37
soon have pleasure X raised to Fas pleasure C (lower down on the
scale) raised to D, then I can intelligibly say that the difference
between X and Y is equivalent to the difference between C and D.
To take a concrete case : if a bank clerk is offered an addition of
50 a year to his salary or a diminution of his day's work
by half an hour, and were, after consideration, conducted wholly
on hedonistic grounds, to say ' I really don't care/ we should be
entitled to say that the pleasure 'which he would obtain by the
expenditure of 50 made up of course by an addition of the
pleasure derived from so much better eating and drinking, so
many more nights at the theatre, or from so many more books
and a more enjoyable summer holiday was the equivalent of
the enjoyment which he would derive from 280 half-hours'
leisure. It may be said that after all we have here only quanti-
tative equality, not numerically defined inequality. But then
it might be argued that the enjoyment of say 280 half -hours'
leisure is made up of the pleasure derivable from the repetition
280 times of the enjoyment derivable from one half-hour's
leisure. The amount of pleasure derived from an extra half-
hour would of course in fact vary on different days ; but he
would expect a certain average of enjoyment on each day : and
it would therefore be quite intelligible to say that the pleasure
derived from 50 of additional income would be exactly 280
times the pleasure derivable on an average from half an hour's
additional leisure. Once again it must be admitted there seems
something rather childish in such calculations which are never
made in practice any more than we attempt to say by how
many grains one heap of sand is bigger than another. Never-
theless, I maintain that in such cases the judgement is quanti-
tative and might (so long as we confine ourselves to quite simple
cases) intelligibly be reduced to numbers T . The fact that we
can have a very decided and well-grounded opinion that one
total is larger than the other total, while any attempt to express
1 It may be suggested that in such calculations our thought becomes more
and more abstract, and BO leaves out elements of which in the concrete we
really take account. This to a certain extent I admit ; but then it must be
remembered that all thought is abstract, and so leaves out elements of
our actual perceptive experience.
28 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
our comparative estimate by numbers would be the wildest and
most unprofitable guess-work, does not affect the question. The
difficulties in the way of any exact mensuration of pleasures
seem to me to be practical rather than theoretical. r Some of
these difficulties are too obvious to mention, but there is one
which it may be well to notice, because it is, I believe, at the
bottom of many people's objection to the whole idea of a sum of
pleasures.
It is sometimes assumed that we cannot sum pleasure unless
we suppose pleasure to be made up of a number of isolated
pleasures, as though quantity were necessarily discrete. But
space and time and everything that occupies space and every-
thing that occupies time possess quantity, and yet space is not
made up of points or time of moments. Pleasure, like time and
space, is a continuum. In measuring things in space and time
we have recourse to arbitrarily chosen units. And, in so far
as we are taking account of the duration of pleasures merely,
the units of time are applicable also to the case of pleasures ;
there is nothing essentially unmeaning in applying these units
to the measurement of pleasures, and saying that a pleasure that
lasts an hour is four times as great as one that lasts only for
fifteen minutes. But such calculations are of little use to us,
because as a rule we cannot assume that the same feelings,
emotions, occupations or what not will continue to produce
pleasure at the same rate for long periods which they produce
for short periods. What interests us for five minutes would
bore us in an hour ; and conversely things which would interest
us if we had an hour to give to them would awaken no interest
in five minutes. There are books which we do not care to read
for less than an hour and others which we should not care to
read for so long. Duration, therefore, though an important
element in the mensuration of pleasures, does not often prac-
tically help us much to an accurate measurement, even where we
are dealing with the same external source of enjoyment: and,
when we turn to the intensity of pleasures, the want of any
satisfactory unit of pleasure is still more obvious. But the
Chap. i,v] PLEASURE A CONTINUUM 29
difficulty of saying how many units of pleasure there are in
a given lot or sum of pleasure does not prevent our arriving
at a mental estimate of its quantity and comparing it with the
quantity of other pleasures just as an ignorant savage engaging
to carry burdens across the Sahara may have very clear ideas
of magnitude and weight without any knowledge of inches or
pounds.
That we make such comparisons and pronounce which of two
stretches of consciousness is the more pleasant on the whole,
seems to be admitted by some who still object to the term * sum
of pleasures/ Such persons seem to mean that our estimate
of the total pleasure that we shall get from one course of action
as compared with what we shall get from another is arrived
at without any previous mental addition or summing of pleasures.
That we do not, as a rule, consciously divide up our prospective
pleasure into units, and then do a sum in arithmetic, I have
already admitted. But how we can arrive at an estimate of the
amount of a whole without putting together a number of parts
is to me unintelligible. When we are deciding in which of two
ways we shall spend a day or a month devoted to recreation,
do we not go over in imagination the various hours of the day or
the probable occupations of the various days in a month, as it
will be spent in each way, and make a rapid estimate (picturable
in imagination, though not actually reduced to terms of any
pleasure-unit) of the amount of pleasure which we shall get into
each portion of it (though no doubt the portions are not neces-
sarily marked oft* from each other by exact time-measurements),
and then think which total is the largest ? If any one tells me he
is not conscious of doing so, I should be quite prepared to admit
that he really makes such calculations in a less conscious and
deliberate way than I am at times conscious of doing myself.
Indeed, I believe that the disputes which have arisen on this
subject are very largely traceable to differences between the
mental habit of individuals ; but the idea of a quantity a quan-
tity occupying time which does not consist of parts, and is not
made up of the addition of parts, will remain to most minds
an unintelligible paradox. If it consists of parts, the parts must
surely all be looked at before we can pronounce upon the
30 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
pleasurableness of the whole. Whether we can take in the
whole quantity of pleasure by (as it were) a single mental
glance, or whether we mentally run over the parts in succession,
is a mere accidental difference of psychological habit, I am no
less summing the number of sheep in a flock when (as may be
done by an experienced shepherd) I pronounce how many they
are by a look at the whole flock together than when I have
laboriously to count them. Further, I am directly conscious
that in estimating the total of pleasure I take into account the
intensity of successive time-reaches as well as their duration ;
and this process can hardly be performed without thinking
of the successive portions of time. If the whole time is likely
to be equally pleasant, I may no doubt proceed at once to
multiply (so to speak) intensity by duration: if the successive
portions are likely to be very variable, I must surely think how
much pleasure or pain there will be in each before I can say
how much there will be in the whole. If such a process of
estimating a total quantity after estimating the constituent
quantities is not to be called addition and subtraction, I should
be grateful to any Logician who will tell me more precisely
what mental operation it is. At all events that is what I mean
by summing pleasures. If anybody means the same thing but
objects to the word, I can only say that I see no objection to
it except the fact that it has been used by Hedonists, and that
some people consider it necessary to object to everything which
has been said by Hedonists : but the question of the word is
of comparatively small importance. And if in the view of some
of my readers I have not succeeded in hitting the exact point of
their objection to the idea of a ' sum of pleasures/ I may bo
allowed to add that I have never yet met two persons who
are exactly agreed as to the grounds of their anathema. And
with some Philosophers, as with some Theologians, the anathema
is the great thing : the grounds of it matter less.
One more of these objections may, however, demand a
moment's notice. For some minds the objection to the notion
of a sum of pleasures seems based upon the alleged impossibility
of adding one man's pleasure to another's. It appears to be
denied that two people's pleasure is more than the like pleasure
Chap, i, vi] DIFFERENCES OF KIND 31
of one person. Of course it may be possible to find senses
in which this might be the case. In the mind of those who
make the objection, the summing of the pleasure of different
persons seems to carry with it some suggestion that pleasure
is a thing that can be actually separated from the consciousness
of the person enjoying it, divided into lots, and handed about
from one person to another. If any one has fallen into such
a confusion, I venture to submit that it is the people who object
to the mental addition of different people's pleasure, and not the
people who contend for its possibility. The objection seems,
in fact, to be little more than a question of words. The question
whether two people's pleasure is not twice the like pleasure
in one person's consciousness must depend on the purpose for
which the addition is to be used. The meaning which I attach
to the assertion is that I regard a certain amount of pleasure
in two persons as twice as important as the same amount in one ;
and ceteris jxiribus I regard it as a duty to promote more
pleasure than less pleasure. If this last proposition is to be
denied, we have arrived at an ultimate difference of ethical ideal :
if it be admitted, I do not see how duty is to be fulfilled without
mentally multiplying the amount of pleasure by the number of
persons enjoying that pleasure or (to avoid cavil) enjoying a like
amount of pleasure. If this is admitted, where is the objection
to the convenient phrase ' a sum of pleasure ' ?
VI
So far I have been dealing with the comparison of pleasures
which are the same in kind that is, as I understand it, in which
the greater or less pleasurableness of the two pleasures is the
only ground upon which we base our judgement as to their
comparative preferability. Is the case altered when one pleasure
is higher than another ? It is impossible to answer the question
without attempting to define what we mean by saying that one
pleasure is higher than another. I have already endeavoured to
show that, when we pronounce one pleasure higher than another,
we mean that, though both of them are pleasant it may be
equally pleasant the one is more valuable than the other for
some other reason than its pleasantness. What I prefer is really
3* THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
the superior moral or intellectual quality of the pleasant psychical
state, not its superior pleasantness. If I compare them simply
as pleasures, I make abstraction of all qualities in them except
their pleasantness. And pleasure in the strict s&nse of the
word the abstract quality of pleasantness can differ from
pleasure only in quantity, extensive or intensive. Hence it
appears that, strictly speaking, there is no difference in quality
between pleasures considered simply as such, though there may
be between pleasures in the popular sense of the word, i.e. there
may be difference in intrinsic value between two states of con-
sciousness equally pleasant. The distinction would be con-
veniently expressed by saying : ' Pleasure can be estimated only
quantitatively, but pleasures may differ in kind ' ; or, ' Pleasures
differ in kind, but not qua pleasures/ Some Philosophers who
are not Hedonists may be prepared to deny that any distinction
can be made between the value which things have as pleasure
and the value which they have on other grounds, and to contend
that our ethical judgement always refers simply to the ultimate
value of a certain state of consciousness. Such a contention
(to which I shall revert hereafter) would seem either ( i ) to bring
back Hedonism under another name, or (2) to get rid of the idea
of pleasure altogether. I am quite clear that in my own mind
I make a distinction between the pleasantness of things and their
value. As I understand the word * pleasure/ the less pleasant of
two states of consciousness sometimes presents itself to me as the
more valuable *.
When it is said (as it is by some, though I cannot point to
any published expression of that view) that pleasures differ
in kind qua pleasures, I do not know what can be meant by the
doctrine unless it be the undoubted and important fact that
the pleasurableness of a total state of mind is inseparably bound
up with the value that it has on other grounds. It is not a mere
accident that various states of mind to which we attribute higher
value than other states of mind on account of their intrinsic
worth do happen to be also pleasant. When I say that the con-
templation of beauty seems to be good as well as pleasant, while
the sensation derived from eating turtle-soup seems to me
1 See below, p. 50 seq.
Chap, i, v] PLEASURE IN ALL GOOD 33
pleasant but to possess a very low degree of goodness or ultimate
value, I do not first form an estimate of the value which looking
at the beautiful picture would have if it were not pleasant, and
then add tj it the additional value which it derives from being
also pleasant. The pleasantness of the aesthetic gratification
is an essential part of my conception of it. I do not know what
beauty would be like if it were not a source of pleasure, or
whether I should attribute any value to it at all if it were not
essentially pleasant ; and yet I am conscious that the pleasantness
is not the sole source or measure of the value that I attach to it.
All this seems to me perfectly true ; and it goes to show that com-
parison between very heterogeneous pleasures simply in respect
of their pleasantness is a very difficult and delicate proceeding.
Fortunately it is for the most part useless and unnecessary, but
not wholly so. It is often exceedingly difficult to say how much
of the value we attribute to some occupation springs from its
pleasantness, and how much from our sense of the value which
it has on other grounds ; and yet that is what we must do when
we compare a higher and a lower pleasure simply as pleasures.
And such comparisons, though difficult, can be made. I may
say to myself in a certain mood : ' I should get more pleasure
from going to this farce than I should from going to that
tragedy ' ; and yet I may say to myself : ' The tragedy is the
nobler and higher pleasure ; therefore to the tragedy I will go/
On the other hand, if I were thinking only of amusement, and
felt that in the circumstances it was right that I should think of
pure amusement rather than of culture and aesthetic gratification,
I might say : ' Though it is the lower pleasure, I will chocse
it/ I do not think it can be denied that we do not unfrequentiy
go through such a process sometimes for ourselves, more often
in choosing pleasures for others. We should prefer to take
a child to this elevating and aesthetic performance rather than to
that somewhat vulgar pantomime, provided he will get a fair
amount, though it may be a less amount, of pure amusement out
of the former. But will he ? We want to satisfy ourselves of
this before we decide against the pantomime. Life is full of such
problems, and however much we may insist on the difficulties oi
such comparisons, they have to be made and are made.
RABHDALL II J)
34 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
It is thus possible, though it is difficult, to compare hetero-
geneous pleasures simply in point of pleasantness. It is un-
necessary to insist further on the difficulty or to analyse its
causes more elaborately. But one very importaQt practical
consideration may be pointed out. It is difficult and frequently
undesirable to compare very heterogeneous alternative pleasures
simply from the point of view of their quantitative intensity
because to do so is to put oneself into a state of mind unfavour-
able to a due appreciation of the higher kind of pleasure even
as pleasure. I may enjoy (say) a sermon by a great preacher
and a light but amusing novel The pleasures are very different
pleasures ; but, as both are pleasures, it must, I should contend,
be possible to say which is the greater pleasure when there is
any very considerable difference in the pleasantness. I am
certainly conscious that I have derived more pleasure from some
sermons than from some novels, and equally so that I have
derived more pleasure from some novelists than from some
preachers. But, if I propose to make the question whether
I will go to church and hear the preacher or stay at home and
read such and such a novel turn wholly on the question which
will be most pleasant, if I deliberately put out of sight all the
considerations other than love of pleasure which may draw me
to the preacher's feet, I should be putting myself into a state of
mind in which I should be very likely greatly to underestimate
the amount of pleasure which I really should get, were I to
throw aside the book and go to church. Nay, more, supposing
me to decide for church on these grounds, and supposing this
voluntarily adopted mood to continue, I should be very likely
to miss the pleasure ; for the pleasure in this case arises largely
from the gratification of other desires than the desire for pleasure
or for such kinds of pleasure as are common to the preacher
and the novelist. These desires will ex hypothesi be in a state
of repression, whereas I shall have stimulated my appetite for
those pleasures which the novel would supply in greater
abundance than the sermon. Considerations like these may
show the inadvisability of frequently permitting ourselves to
make these purely hedonistic comparisons between very hetero-
geneous sources of enjoyment, but they do not disprove the
Chap, i, v] PLEASURE AND PREFERENCE 35
fact that the comparison can be, and in some cases must be,
made.
The higher pleasure is, I have suggested, a pleasure to which
we attribute value on other grounds than its mere pleasantness.
The problem of the commensurability of pleasures has led us up
to the more difficult and, ethically speaking, more important
problem of the commensurability of goods. I have tried to show
that it is possible to compare pleasures no matter how hetero-
geneous and to say which is pleasantest. But is it possible to
compare heterogeneous goods say, Virtue, Culture, and pleasure
and say which is best. It is possible, though it is not always
right, to aim at a greatest attainable quantum of pleasure : is it
possible to aim at the production of a greatest quantum of good?
That such is a possible aim certainly seems to be implied by
those who make the greatest good of society the criterion of
conduct (and there are few Moralists of any school who have
not used some such language), and yet refuse to interpret 'good'
in the hedonistic sense. With this larger problem we shall be
occupied in the following chapter.
But there is one last objection to the idea of a 'sum of
pleasures ' with which I will briefly deal before dismissing the
subject. It is admitted by some (though once more I have to
deal with a class of opponents whose modesty prevents them
putting their views into a form in which they can be criticized)
that we do * prefer one lot of pleasures to another ' ; but it is
said that we are not summing pleasures because the statement
* this amount of pleasure is greater than that ' is merely a state-
ment of our preference. We do not prefer the one alternative
to the other because it contains more pleasure ; it may be said to
give more pleasure simply because we prefer it.
I reply: (i) My preference is not the same thing as my
judgement that I shall get or have got more pleasure out of one
set of experiences than out of another ; for, though the expecta-
tion of pleasure may be the ground of my preference, I may
make my preference turn on other grounds and prefer one
course of action to another in spite of a clear judgement that
it will yield less pleasure.
(2) My preference lies in the present, whereas the pleasure
D 2
36 THE HEDONISTIC CALCULUS [Book II
lies in the past or the future. The present judgement is determined
by the past or the anticipated experience, not vice versa. My
preference for course A is based on my judgement that I shall
get more pleasure from it, but it is not the same thjng as that
judgement. For I may prefer course A under the expectation
that I shall get more pleasure from it than from course B, and
find by bitter experience that I do not get the pleasure. The
amount of pleasure which I shall actually get from an act of
choice is not created by the act of choice, and is quite independent
of my volition. It seems strange to find anti-hedonist and
anti-sensationalist Philosophers confusing the act of choice with
the judgement that it will be pleasant. If it be admitted that
the prospective pleasure in any case or to any degree whatever
influences our choice, we must make such judgements before we
choose ; and since any duration of pleasure is made up of
successive smaller durations, it is impossible to deny that the
Judgement as to its pleasurableness, and pro tanto its preferability,
must depend upon our judgement as to the pleasurableness of
these separate durations. How it is possible to be influenced by
these many distinct judgements without putting them together,
and how it is possible to put quantities together without a
' calculus/ the writers whom I have criticized have never
succeeded in explaining.
CHAPTER II
THE COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES
IN the last chapter I have endeavoured to defend the
possibility of a hedonistic calculus. I maintained that it is
psychologically possible to compare different lots of pleasure
and to say which, on the whole, duration and intensity being
both taken into account, is the greatest. If that be admitted,
the fashioning of life in such a way as to attain either for
oneself or for Society a greatest quantum of pleasure becomes
a possible and intelligible ideal. It is possible to aim con-
sistently at doing what will promote the greatest pleasure on
the whole. But we have already seen reason to reject such
a conception of the ethical end. The argument against Hedonism
need not be repeated. Suffice it once more to remind the reader
that, while I do regard pleasure as a good, I do not regard it as
the good. It seems to me perfectly clear that the moral con-
sciousness does pronounce some goods to be higher, or intrin-
sically more valuable than others ; and that at the head of these
goods comes Virtue, while many other things intellectual
cultivation and intellectual activity, aesthetic cultivation,
emotion of various kinds are also good and of more intrinsic
value than mere pleasure. It is true that pleasure is an element
in every state of consciousness to which we can assign ultimate
value. I can attach no meaning whatever to the proposition,
1 1 find this picture supremely beautiful, and yet it gives me no
pleasure to look at it.' Even with regard to Virtue, it is difficult
to answer the question whether I should judge Virtue to possess
value, if it gave me no sort of pleasure or satisfaction. The
belief in a priori judgements of value must not be interpreted
to mean that we can see what in detail is good for human beings
38 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
apart from the actual psychical and emotional constitution of
human nature. If a being could exist (the very supposition
doubtless involves an absurd abstraction) capable of appreciating
the idea of duty, capable of willing that duty, and yet for ever
by the very constitution of his nature incapable of deriving the
smallest amount of pleasure or satisfaction from the perform-
ance of duty by himself or another, I do not know that I should
attach any meaning to the assertion ' Virtue to such a being or
in such a being is a good/ Another person might no doubt
regard such a being's Virtue as a good, but then he would judge
also that the other person ought to derive pleasure or satis-
faction from his goodness : he would hold that it was a good
inasmuch as it ought to exist, but he would hardly think that
the man himself had attained even that good which consists in
being truly virtuous. Pleasure is an element in everything
to which we attach value : and yet we do not attach value to
consciousness in proportion to its pleasantness : pleasures differ
in kind or quality. And as I endeavoured to show in the last
chapter, this amounts to the assertion that something else in
consciousness possesses value besides its pleasantness : there are
other goods besides pleasure. On what principle then are we to
choose between these different kinds of good? It is to my
mind a perfectly clear deliverance of the moral consciousness,
that no action can be right except in so far as it tends to
produce a good, and that, when we have to choose between
goods, it is always right to choose the greater good. Such
a doctrine implies that goods of all kinds can be compared, that
we can place goods of all kinds on a single scale, and assign to
each its value relatively to the rest. The defence of this
assumption is the object of the present chapter.
In the first place I must begin by distinguishing between
t.ffit4liflfexGnt Souses in which it may be asserted that goods of
different kinds are commensurable.* ^ It may mean that a certain
amount of one good can be regarded as a sufficient and satis-
factory substitute for the other, so that, however much superior
Virtue may be to Culture, a sufficient amount of Culture could
be regarded as an entirely satisfactory compensation for the
absence of all Virtue that, given enough sensual pleasure, the
Chap, ii, i] SENSES OF COMMENSURABLE 39
absence of either Virtue or Culture would cease to be an object
of regret. If this were the only possible meaning of the com-
mensurability of heterogeneous goods, I should fully sympathize
with the assertion that the value of the higher goods (par-
ticularly of Virtue) is incommensurable with that of anything
else. But that is not the only possible meaning of our assertion.
It may mean only that, when we have to choose between
a higher and a lower good when we cannot have both we can
compare them, and pronounce that one possesses more value
than the other.
And this is the only possible interpretation of the formula
which is open to those who hold that no one of the competing
goods, not even Virtue, is by itself the good. The true good of
a human life does not consist either in Virtue only, or in know-
ledge only, or in pleasure only. I altogether decline to pronounce
cvdat/jLaw, or in the highest possible degree ' blessed/ a man who
has enjoyed twenty years of unbroken Virtue in a loathsome
dungeon, cut off from books or human society, and afflicted by
perpetual toothache or a succession of other tortures. Such
a man has not attained the true end of his being. He may be
much more blessed than the successful sinner, but his lot cannot
be pronounced a wholly desirable one ; he is blessed for his
goodness, but he is not altogether blessed. Equally little would
any abundance and variety of sensual pleasures make me
attach high value to the life of a stupid sensualist ; nor will any
amount of refinement or intellectual enjoyment induce me to
regard as supremely desirable the life of a Borgia or even
a Goethe. No -amount of one kind of good can compensate for
the absence or deficiency of the other. But when circumstances
make it impossible for me to secure for myself or for others all
these kinds of good, then I can and must decide which of them
I regard as best worth having ; and that implies that for the
purpose of choosing between them they are commensurable.
It is quite true, as will be indignantly protested in some
quarters, that each of these ' goods ' taken by itself is an abstrac-
tion. No one of them can exist wholly without the other, or at
least without the opposite of the other. Pleasure cannot exist
at least for a human being without some kind or measure of
40 COMMENSURAB1LITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
knowledge or intellectual activity. Knowledge can hardly be
supposed ever to be accompanied by no kind or sort of pleasure,
though the pleasure may in some cases be greatly outweighed
by attendant pains.
And, if you stripped off from a human being all activity of
thought (even that implied in the most mechanical occupation
or the most humdrum routine of duty), and all feeling of satis-
faction in one thing rather than another, it would be difficult to
see wherein the Virtue of such a being could consist. It is not
upon each one of these things taken by itself that we pronounce
our judgements of value, but upon each of them taken as an
element in a whole l . Our ideal of human life is not a certain
amount of the higher goods mechanically added on to a certain
amount of lower goods, but a connected whole in which each is
made different by its connexion with the others. It is not
Virtue -f knowledge -f pleasure that we desire for a man a
waking day, for instance, in which seven hours are devoted to
Virtue, six to knowledge, and four to pleasure but that he may
be virtuous and find pleasure in his virtuous activities ; that he
may study and derive pleasure from his studies ; that he may
enjoy the pleasures of eating and drinking, but enjoy them in
such a manner and degree as may be conducive to the 'develop-
ment of his higher nature, and consistent with the highest good
of his fellows. But, when through unfavourable circumstances
this ideal is not realizable, we can surely distinguish between
the various elements in a human life and form a judgement as
to which of them seems to be more important a large amount
of this, or a small amount of that. If we were not thus
1 It is equally true that we could not pronounce on their value as elements
in a whole unless we found a value at least in some one of them taken
separately, just as we could not find a picture beautiful unless blue, red, and
green were found beautiful in themselves, though the aesthetic value of the
colours may be enormously enhanced or (in the case of unpleasing contrast)
diminished by the combination. Just so pleasure is a good taken by itself,
but it may cease to be so if by its excess it spoils the true proportion of
higher and lower goods in our life. Mr. Moore's remark that the value of
two goods in combination may be very different from the combined value
of each taken separately (Principle* Ethica, p. 214) is a new and striking way
of stating a very old truth.
Chap.ii, iij HIGHER GOODS HAVE QUANTITY 41
capable of distinguishing between various elements in human
life 1 , all thinking or talking about the moral ideal, or indeed
about practical aims or objects of any kind, would be estopped.
And if, wjien we have distinguished them, we are not to say
which of them is best and to act upon our answer, there is an
end to the possibility of any -ethical system which admits that
the morality of an action depends upon its consequences. The
latter admission is now generally made by the most anti-
hedonistic writers. There is a general consensus that Ethics
must be 4 teleological,' though not hedonistic. And this admission
seems inevitably to carry with it the further concession that all
values must be, in the sense defined, commensurable. If the
morality of an act depends upon the value of all its consequences
taken together, we must be able to say which of two sets of
consequences possesses the more value ; and, if different kinds of
consequence are to have any weight assigned to them, we must
be able to attribute more or less weight to each of them. To
deny this seems to amount to the denial that there is any one
fixed and consistent meaning in the word ' value ' or ' worth ' or
' good/ and to make impossible any system of Ethics which is
based upon this conception.
II
The only way of escaping the admission that different kinds
of good are commensurable would be to assert that it is always
right to choose the highest. Now (if we assume that Virtue is
the highest of goods) this contention involves all the difficulties
of the formalistic Ethics (to use Prof. Paulsen's term) of Kant
and his stricter disciples. If nothing in the world possesses
value except the good will, we cut ourselves off from the possibility
of assigning a rational ground for regarding one volition as
better than another. To repeat once more the stock criticism,
1 It is true, of course, as has been admitted above, that we never get one
element tvholly apart from the other. The greediest bon-vivant, with his
attention wholly concentrated on his food, is thinking of something, and
the student absorbed in his books may be enjoying the carnal pleasure of
sitting in a comfortable chair, but we may make abstraction of these things
sufficiently to ask ' Which is best eating or study ? '
4* COMMENSUEABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
a will that wills nothing but itself has no content. The term
' right ' is meaningless except in reference to the good. The good
will may possess infinitely more value than any consequence that
it wills ; but, unless that consequence be good, the will cannot be
good either. Charity is no doubt better than the eating of food
by hungry persons, but unless that eating be good, there is no
reason for applying the word ' right ' or ' good ' to the charitable
act. To deny that anything possesses value but a good will
(which Kant after all did not do) is to deny that such a thing
as a good will is possible. The attempt may, indeed, be made
to escape the force of this criticism by pleading that it is only
where some lower good is incompatible with the higher that it
must be treated as possessing no value at all. But, in the first
place, it seems difficult to escape the admission that, even when
we assign some value to the lower and a value to the higher
which always overweighs any conceivable amount of the former,
we are in a sense treating them as commensurable: we do in
a sense measure the value of the one against the other, even
when we pronounce that their values are related as finite
quantities are related to infinity. But the question arises
whether we do always pronounce that the smallest quantity of
the higher is worth more than the largest quantity of the lower.
And here of course the appeal can only be to the actual moral
judgements of mankind.
. So long as I confine myself to my own Virtue, it seems clekr
that it can never be right for me to prefer any quantity of
a lower good to the doing of my own duty. And if goodness,
Morality, a rightly directed will, be the thing of highest value
in the world, I shall always be choosing the greatest good for
myself by doing my duty. If in any case it is right or reason-
able for me to choose a lower good rather than a higher one,
then eo ipso I shall not be violating my duty by pursuing it,
and therefore I shall not be postponing my own Morality to
anything which is not Morality. The principle that all values
are commensurable can never in practice bring the morality of
any individual into competition with any other good, so long as
his own voluntary acts alone are concerned. It can never compel
us to say, ' For an adequate quantity of some other good it is
Chap, ii, ii] MORALITY AND OTHER GOODS 43
reasonable for me to commit a sin.' So much results from a mere
analysis of the idea of duty.
But can we say that there are no cases in which we have, in
judging of the effect of our conduct upon others, to institute
comparisons between the intrinsic worth of goodness and the
intrinsic worth of other and lower goods knowledge, culture,
bodily pleasure, immunity from pain? Can we say that it is
always right to regard the very smallest amount of moral good
in that sense of moral good in which one man's goodness may be
increased and diminished by the act of another as preferable
to the utmost conceivable quantity of any lower good ? It seems
to me that to maintain that such is always our duty would
involve an austerity or rigorism by which few would even
pretend to guide their judgements of conduct outside the pages
of an ethical treatise. Take the case contemplated by Cardinal
Newman. Cardinal Newman, in defending himself against the
charge of depreciating Veracity because lying is only, according
to Roman Catholic Moral Theology, a venial sin, has laid it down
that it would be better for millions of the human race to expire
in extremest agony than for a single human soul to be guilty of
the slightest venial sin. Mr. Lecky has declined to endorse this
tremendous judgement l . And, I believe, few who in the least
realize the meaning of the words which they are using would do
so either. And what does this mean but that we judge that
a little Morality (so far as Morality may be the result of another's
conduct) possesses less value than an immense quantity of
pleasure or the prevention of a vast amount of pain that it is
from the point of view of Reason more important that so many
thousand people should not suffer torments than that one man
should not commit a small sin ?
It will perhaps be objected that such an alternative could
never be presented ; but such a contention would, it seems to me,
betray an extraordinary blindness to some of the most difficult
practical problems with which we are confronted every day of
our lives. I have a limited sum of money to spend on charity.
I believe that spiritual good can be promoted by efficient Curates,
that intellectual good can be promoted by education, and that
1 Hist, of European Momls (1877), I, p. HI.
44 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
pain can be saved by hospitals. Shall I give it to an Additional
Curates Society, or to education, or to a hospital ? I have a son
who wishes to enter the Civil Service of India. Shall I send
him to a ' crammer's/ which (in his particular case) may give him
the best chance of getting in, or to a Public School and University,
which will be best for his moral and intellectual well-being?
A problem more exactly resembling the hypothetical case pro-
pounded by Newman arises when some great material benefit can
only be obtained by the bribery of an official. Few people would
hesitate to bribe a Chinese Mandarin to be unfaithful to his
superiors, a traitor to his country, disloyal very possibly to his
own highest ideal (which may enjoin relentless hostility to
foreigners) in order to set free a score or so of Europeans who
would otherwise be exposed to torture and death. By such an
act a man would distinctly be causing a small amount of moral
evil in order to produce a large amount of hedonistic good.
Such an admission could only be escaped if we were to adopt
the extravagant position sometimes taken up by extreme Liber-
tarians the position that the virtue of one man can never be
increased or diminished by the action of another. The admission
that in some cases it is right to prefer a larger amount of lower
good to a smaller amount of a higher in no way involves, be it
observed, the principle ' to do a great right do a little wrong/
The individual must himself always do right : the moral evil
that he causes is not even a little wrong in him, if (as the view
I am defending maintains) it is right for him to cause in another
that little moral evil rather than be the cause of an immense
amount of undeserved physical suffering. And I fail to see how
moral judgements which would in practice be assented to and
acted upon by the holiest of mankind can be explained or
justified upon any other view.
There are, I must freely admit, very many more cases in
which I am certain that the accepted morality of our time and
country implies such a preference of much lower to a little
higher good than there are cases in which I am certain that
such a preference is really justifiable. We compel large masses
of young men to remain unmarried, well knowing the moral
consequences which are likely to ensue from such a state of
Chap, ii, ii] APPEAL TO ACTUAL JUDGEMENTS 45
things, because we hold that the country must be defended and
that it would be too expensive to allow all soldiers to marry.
We allow the children of the working classes to be withdrawn
from schopl at the age of twelve or thirteen, though no one
doubts that they would benefit morally and intellectually by
staying till sixteen, because we think it would be too great
a strain upon the resources of the country and of the individual
parents here, now, for the moment, under existing social and
economic conditions to compel them to keep their children at
school any longer. In other words, we hold the enjoyment of
luxuries by rich taxpayers, of Culture by the educated, of com-
forts by poor taxpayers, of the necessaries of life by poor parents
to be of more intrinsic importance than the higher moral and
intellectual advancement of the children. I need not pursue
such illustrations further. There is, in fact, no single expenditure
of money public or private upon material enjoyment which
goes beyond the bare necessaries of life which can justify itself
upon the theory that it is never right to promote lower good
when we could promote ever so little of some higher good l .
It is quite true, and it is important to remember, that the
opposition between higher and lower good is seldom so absolute
as has been here assumed. It is seldom, in such practical
problems, that all the higher good is on one side and all the
lower good on the other. When we insist that, given certain
circumstances, the claims of national defence must take pre-
cedence of education, and even of certain branches of personal
Morality (in so far as Morality can be promoted or hindered by
external influences), we may plead that we attach importance to
national defence, not only in the interests of commerce and
material well-being, but in the interests of national independence,
national character, and international Morality. When we refuse
1 * If we ask whether I ought always to choose to slightly elevate another
person's ideals, at the cost of great suffering to him, or if I ought always to
choose to slightly elevate my own ideals, at the cost of great suffering to
some one else, it becomes clear that happiness and development are ethi-
cally commensurable, and that we have no right to treat a loss of either as
ethically indifferent' (McTaggart, Studies in Hegelian Cosmology , p. 122). It
will be seen from what follows (p. 47) that it is only in a very restricted
sense that I should admit that the second possibility can ever arise.
46 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
to burden poor parents beyond a certain point for the education
of their children, it may be suggested that further pressure
would involve the semi-starvation of the children, which would
not be ultimately in the interests of their moral and intellectual
Well-being. And, more generally, we may contend that a certain
indulgence of the lower appetites and desires of human nature-
an indulgence going considerably beyond the paramount require-
ments of health is in average men more conducive to moral
Well-being than a semi- compulsory asceticism with the inevitable
reaction which such asceticism is apt to provoke. All this is
very true; but still we cannot, as it seems to me, avoid the
admission that in some cases the balance of moral good is on
one side, and that of lower good on the other. Give that bribe,
and the moral character of your Mandarin will have taken
a downward turn : withhold it and twenty European men, women,
and children will die in torture and dishonour. It is only
a fanatic to whom the small deterioration of one Mandarin, ex
hypbthesi not a character of the highest order, will seem a more
valuable end than the saving of twenty European lives with all
their possibilities of happiness. It may be said that there are
possibilities of goodness also. Then let us suppose that death
is unavoidable, and that it is only a question of torture. No
doubt the prevention of injustice may have good moral effects.
But all these are vague possibilities as contrasted with the
certain moral evil of corrupting the Mandarin with all the
incidental moral effects which that corruption may carry with
it. Our moral judgement is not really determined by these
speculative possibilities. We really think it more important to
spare so much suffering than to avoid the slight deterioration of
one Mandarin's character.
For the agent himself it can never, we have admitted, be right
to prefer his own lower to his own higher good, for the simple
reason that to do right is always his own highest good. And
yet, even in considering one's own moral good, there may be
cases in which it may be right, just in order to do one's duty, to
adopt a course of action which may be likely on the whole to
have an injurious effect on one's own character, in that sense of
character in which a man is made better or worse by influences
Chap, ii, iii] CULTURE AND PLEASURE 47
not under the immediate control of his own will. It may some-
times be right for a man to adopt a profession which in the long
run may have a lowering effect upon his ideals and upon his
conduct, in preference to one which would be likely to have
a more elevating influence; or in innumerable other ways to
face temptations which he does not know that he will always be
able to resist rather than to purchase his own moral purity at
the cost of other people's Well-being. Our own future Well-
being, in so far as it lies beyond our own immediate control, is
in the same position as other people's moral Well-being to be
weighed against the other kinds of good, and assigned a value
which, though enormously transcending that of lower goods,
cannot be held to be absolutely incommensurable with them.
But still, this admission does not involve any abandonment of
our previous contention that it can never be right for a man
to do an immediately wrong act for the sake of any other
advantage to himself or others. By choosing the greater good,
he has done his duty (even in choosing a course which may in
the long run react in some ways unfavourably upon his own
character), and by doing his duty he has chosen the greatest
good for himself. He would have become a worse man by
taking the opposite course. Paradox as it may seem, he would
have become a less moral man on the whole by attaching too
high a value to his own Morality. In reality he is only pre-
ferring one element in his own moral good to another a higher
element to a lower since the preference of the greatest good is
itself the highest Morality.
Ill
So far, we have been comparing the value of Morality or
character with that of all other goods. When we come to the
weighing of higher goods other than the highest of intellectual
and aesthetic goods for instance against the lower, there will be
perhaps less objection to admit that a small amount of the
higher may sometimes have to give way to a large amount of
the lower. At all events the task of showing that this is the
principle upon which ordinary good men act is here an easy one.
Some of the instances already given will serve to illustrate this
48 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
case also the sacrifice of education to health and comfort, the
spending of national money upon armies and guns instead of
Universities, libraries, and scientific expeditions, the cutting
down of the British Museum grant in the interest of ,the South
African War. However much we may regret and condemn the
indifference which our own Parliaments and Governments (more
than any other Parliaments and Governments in the civilized
world) show to such intellectual objects, few of us would be
prepared to push the expenditure of public moneys upon them
to a point which would on the material side lower the general
standard of comfort to the level of bare health and subsistence.
And here there will be little scruple in admitting that it is not
merely in conduct affecting others but in conduct affecting
primarily only ourselves that we act, and feel that we do right
in acting, upon the principle that the quantity as well as the
quality of various heterogeneous goods must be taken into
account in choosing between them. We feel that Art is higher
than comfort and good eating, but we do not feel bound to
lower our standard of comfort below a certain point in order to
buy books and pictures. We recognize that study is intrinsi-
cally more valuable than ordinary conversation, but we feel
justified in spending on the enjoyment of society a considerable
amount of time which might be spent upon study. We acknow-
ledge the claim of Culture, but we do not feel bound to pursue
Culture when it would interfere beyond a certain point with
health and comfort and the ordinary enjoyment of life an
enjoyment consisting in the following out of natural tastes and
inclinations which, however harmless, we cannot upon reflection
pronounce to have a very high intrinsic value. We may admit
on reflection that we do not care for and pursue our own
intellectual improvement as much as we ought to do ; but in our
most serious moments of self-examination we hold that it is
sometimes lawful to spend half an hour upon some lower amuse-
ment without proving that the giving up of that amusement
would injuriously affect our health or cause some other evil
than the mere loss of the amusement. In such cases there is,
indeed, no great disproportion between the amount of the higher
and of the lower goods. If we think of cases where the dis-
Chap, ii, iii] HETEROGENEOUS GOODS 49
proportion would be very great, the verdict of the practical
Reason will be still more unhesitating. If we had to weigh the
sufferings of some thousand tortured rabbits against the purely
intellectual t gain of some theoretically unimportant and prac-
tically unfruitful piece of scientific knowledge 1 , or a woman's
heart broken and her life wrecked against the scientific or
aesthetic advantage to a Philosopher or a Novelist in being
enabled the better to analyse the passion of love in cases like
these there will be little doubt what the verdict will be on tho
part of any person of common humanity not sophisticated by
the gospel of Self-realization.
All these judgements then imply that we do actually weigh
very heterogeneous goods against one another, and decide which
possesses most value, and in making that estimate we do take
into consideration the amount of the two kinds of good as well
as the quality. We do hold that a little of some higher good is
too dearly bought by a great sacrifice of some lower good, and, on
the other hand, that a very small quantity of one good is sometimes
worth a great deal of another. If a facetious opponent forthwith
challenges us to produce a graduated table of goods, a tariff by
reference to which we may at once say how much headache
ought to outweigh the Culture implied in the reading of
a Shakespearean play or the like, the answer is the one which
the opponent will probably urge against the whole scheme
that there are no means of measuring with exactitude such
things as Culture or Charity, and, again, that the value of
a 'good' is relative to many circumstances. The reading of
a play of Shakespeare may be an intellectual revolution the
beginning of a new intellectual and (it may be) moral life to
one man, while to another it will be of less value than the same
number of pages of Miss Marie Corelli. But, as I have so often had
occasion to point out, the impossibility of reducing to numerical
precision judgements of this kind does not imply that the judge-
ments are not made, or that they are not quantitative. It is
only in quite recent times that mechanical methods have been
invented for instituting exact comparisons between lights of
1 I have nothing to say against Vivisection duly regulated in the interests
of Humanity.
RA8UDALL II E
50 COMMENSURABIL1TY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
different strength l : yet, long before such methods were invented,
men judged that one light was stronger much stronger,
moderately stronger, or a little stronger than another light,
and acted on their judgements. A little ingenuity might
perhaps find cases in which we could with some meaning say
that one higher good possessed twice the intrinsic value
possessed by another. But I have admitted that even in com-
paring pleasures, and pleasures of the same order, such exact
measurements are rarely possible and never of use. It is
a characteristic of these higher goods that their value, or rather
the value of goods springing from the same objective source, varies
with circumstances more even than is the case with simple physical
pleasures and pains. And therefore here the attempt to find cases
in which such a mensuration might have a meaning is too far
removed from anything which actually takes place in our
practical life to be worth attempting, even by way of playfully
illustrating the quantitative character of these judgements.
IV
There is one really formidable objection to the position taken
up in this and the last chapter which I must attempt briefly to
meet. Among those who strongly hold that all goods can be
compared, that * value ' must always have the same meaning,
and that the true way of deciding between two alternative
courses of action is to ask, 'By doing which shall I produce
good of most value?' there are some who will object to the
distinction which has here been drawn between pleasure-value
and value of a higher kind. It has been assumed that we some-
times say, ' This course will produce the most pleasure, but the
pleasure is not sufficient to outweigh the evil of another kind
which is involved in it : the course which produces least pleasure
will produce most good/ But it may be urged that if we are
really to be faithful to our doctrine that all values are com-
parable, we must refuse to recognize more than one kind of value:
and that if we reject the doctrine that pleasure is the only
thing that has value, we cannot really compare states of con-
1 Even here the comparison is only made by the aid of an assumption
which perhaps cannot be strictly defended. Cf. above, p. 25.
Chap, ii, iv] PLEASURE AND VALUE 51
sciousness as pleasures, and then override that judgement by
a second valuation as goods. ' The ideal or rational standard of
comparison/ it may be urged, ' is the only one. Whether it is
pleasure oij Culture or Morality that we are comparing, all that
we can do is to say which appears to us to be worth most.'
I have some sympathy with the spirit in which this objection is
made. For I freely confess that I find it impossible either to
get hold of a satisfactory definition of pleasure or to distinguish
in any sharp or scientific way between pleasure- value and that
higher kind of value which, though doubtless normally accom-
panied by more or less pleasure, is not (for the developed moral
consciousness) measured in terms of pleasure. It would be easy
to show how wildly wide of the mark are most of the definitions
of pleasure which have been put forth by eminent authorities.
After each of them one exclaims, * Well, whatever I mean by
pleasure, it is certainly not that/ And yet I cannot readily
bring myself to believe that pleasure is simply a vox nihili ; for
nothing less than that would be the logical consequence of
saying, * Pleasure is neither identical with value nor one of the
things which possess value: we can compare values, but we
cannot compare pleasures/ It might be possible for an ascetic
to say, * I know what pleasure is, but it has no value' : but those
who hold the view which I am criticizing are not ascetics. They
do attribute value to pleasant things. The value of some things
is not measured by their pleasantness, but the value of other
things surely does cease to exist when they cease to be pleasant.
We must, therefore, be able to estimate their pleasantness before
we can pronounce upon their value, and compare that value with
the value of things which do not owe their value entirely to
their pleasantness. It has been fully and frankly admitted that
pleasure is an abstraction, that it is one particular aspect of
consciousness ; but it is not the only one. Now I do not think
it possible to define what this aspect is sufficiently to mark
it off with absolute precision from those other aspects which
we have in view in pronouncing upon the absolute or ultimate
value of some state of consciousness. And yet it is certain
that it does represent one of the aspects under which we are
practically in the habit of considering and valuing such states.
5* COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
I tremble at the thought of putting forth a new definition of
pleasure, and protest that what follows is not intended as such :
but I venture to suggest that, when we try to estimate the value
of a state of consciousness as pleasure, we are thinking of its
value simply as immediate feeling, abstracting as much as
possible from all reference to the other parts of our nature.
Our appreciation of the value of duty does not depend merely
upon the immediate feeling that accompanies the doing of duty : to
hold that is the ' moral sense ' view of the matter which (as Hume
has shown once for all), when fully thought out, ends in Hedon-
ism. It depends upon our appreciation of the relation between
this present consciousness of ours and our own past and future,
upon our consciousness of our relation as persons to other persons,
upon the presence of all sorts of desires and aspirations which go
beyond the moment beyond even our own consciousness at all.
The same may be applied in a modified degree to the value which
we find in intellectual or aesthetic cultivation. All these things
are put aside when we estimate our consciousness simply as
present feeling. This is most clearly seen in the case of those
conscious states which have no value except what they possess
simply as so much pleasant feeling. If we found that the
drinking of a certain liquid not required for purposes of health
was not satisfactory simply in and for itself, we should pronounce
it to have no value at all. It would be easy and tempting to
essay a definition of pleasure by making it consist in the
satisfaction of our lower as distinct from the satisfaction of our
higher desires. But this will not express what we really mean
by pleasure. For pleasure is clearly something which the lower
sources of satisfaction have in common with the higher. When
we compare the glow of satisfaction which sometimes attends
a conquest over temptation, we feel at once that the resulting
feeling has something in common with the state of mind into
which we are put on other occasions by a cup of tea.
It is this something which we seek to indicate by the term
pleasure. And yet I do not feel that the value of that good will
of ours is wholly dependent upon the satisfactoriness of the
present feeling, or of any future succession of such feelings.
Apart from that, we judge that the good will has value ; and 3
Chap, ii, iv] VALUE AND PLEASURE- VALUE 53
indeed, it is this recognition of its value which is the cause, or at
least one condition of the pleasure quite otherwise than in the
case of the tea ; there we cannot say what value it has till we
try it, and, if we do not like the feeling, it has no value at
all. To the man who desires goodness, or cares about doing his
duty, the doing of it must bring some pleasure, for there is
pleasure in the satisfaction of all desire; and it would be (as
I have admitted) meaningless to ask whether we should attach
value to Morality for a being who was for ever incapable of
feeling, or being brought to feel, any such satisfaction in good
conduct. But we can equally little assert that the value of the
good act depends upon the amount of the resulting pleasure.
For, while a good act must bring pleasure to him who has any
sense of its value, the amount of the pleasure is dependent upon
very many other things than the amount of the good will upon
health, temperament, spirits, surrounding circumstances of all
kinds. But these variations in the actual pleasantness of the
good will exercise no influence upon our estimate of the higher
value which goodness possesses as compared with the drinking
of good wine. And we judge that those who do not experience
this pleasantness at all, whatever other pleasures they enjoy, are
in a state of mind which we cannot wholly approve. They
ought to feel this pleasure. We hold that goodness has a
pleasure- value which may be compared with the pleasure- value
of champagne, which may sometimes exceed and sometimes fall
short of that value, but that it possesses besides a value of its
own which it does not share with the champagne. We are
brought back at last to the simple fact of consciousness. The
only way of defending the possibility of a judgement, or the
existence of a category, is to show that we do actually think in
that way ; and it is clear to me that each of the three attempts
(i) to analyse all value into pleasure- value, or (2) to merge
pleasure-value into value in general, or (3) to deny that some-
times we are driven to compare pleasure- value with some higher
kind of value fails to represent the actual verdict of our moral
consciousness.
If the view which we have taken of the relation in which the
idea of pleasure stands to the idea of value be well founded, it
54 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
will be obvious why, from the nature of the case, no very sharp
distinction can be drawn between them, Among the things to
which we attach value, some appeal so entirely to the higher or
rational part of our nature that, except for the bare fact that they
do satisfy desire, they seem to have nothing in common with the
lower. When a man does his duty at the cost of toil and suffer-
ing, it is so exclusively the higher part of his nature that impels
him to the sacrifice that we should feel it unnatural to say that
it is the pleasure to which he attaches so high a value. This
higher nature of his is, indeed, so closely connected with his
lower that it is impossible that the satisfaction of that higher
impulse can fail to excite some pleasant feeling, but it is not
valued simply as feeling. On the other hand, the mere * prick
of sense ' ceases to have value when it ceases to give pleasure.
The vast majority of those states of consciousness to which we
attach value are intermediate between the two cases. They
appeal to our higher and to our lower nature at the same time.
The performance of duty, even at the sacrifice of much that
under other circumstances would be valued, the activity of our
intellect in an interesting profession or an interesting study,
social intercourse with those whom we really care for all these
under favourable circumstances are accompanied by feeling of
a kind which has much in common with the feeling that one
gets from bathing or basking in the sunshine. They appeal to
the higher and to the lower part of our nature at one and the
same time. It would be ridiculous to talk as if we valued them
simply as pleasures; for, when, through unfavourable circum-
stances or interfering unpleasantness, they practically cease to
appeal to the lower nature at all, we value them still. It would
be equally impossible to pronounce that our judgement of their
value is wholly independent of that which they have in common
with the merely animal satisfactions. In these cases it is
practically impossible to say how much of the value is due to
one source and how much to the other. If we supposed the
lower side of this satisfactoriness progressively diminished, it
would be virtually impossible to say exactly when we had
reached the point at which we had ceased to prefer them as
pleasant states of mind, and begun to prefer them only fts states of
Chap, ii, iv] INDEFINITENESS OF PLEASURE 55
mind which we value apart from their pleasurableness. It is
only when we attempt by a deliberate effort of abstraction to
compare the higher and the lower from the same point of view
the point of view of immediate feeling that we do actually
distinguish between the value of our mental condition on the
whole arid its value as pleasure. And such efforts, being seldom
useful, are seldom made. It is only when the higher and the
lower elements of interest get violently separated when the
value which some object of desire has for us as rational and
reflecting beings gets very far removed from the value which it
has for us as sensitive beings 1 , that it becomes natural to say, * We
prefer this to that, but we do not prefer it simply as pleasure/
It is probable that in practice different people use this term
* pleasure' with considerable differences of meaning. Some
people, even among Philosophers, seem to be unable to dissociate
the term pleasure from bodily indulgences : while the existence of
high-minded Hedonists seems to show that others really use it
almost or entirely in the sense of ' intrinsically valuable con-
sciousness/
On the whole, then, it is clear to me that we cannot do without
this distinction between value and pleasure. To merge the idea
of value in that of pleasure practically involves all the fallacies
of Hedonism ; to merge the idea of pleasure in that of value
involves the refusal to distinguish different elements in the
supremely valuable kind of conscious life which the moral con-
sciousness undoubtedly does distinguish. Practically we cannot
get on without both the idea of value and that of pleasure. Yet
it may be admitted that the idea of value belongs to the
language of strict philosophical thought, the idea of pleasure
rather to the region of those popular conceptions which the
Philosopher must take account of, which he is bound to use
but which are from their very nature incapable of exact
definition, and which, therefore, must necessarily be used without
exact scientific precision. We want a term to express that in
value which is common to the higher and the lower of those
states of consciousness in which we recognize value : but, just
because higher and lower shade off into one another, pleasure
* Of ponrsp WP are never in realitv merely sensitive.
56 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
must needs shade off into something that is not pleasure, or at
all events not mere pleasure. We may speak of pleasure as the
value which feeling possesses simply as feeling ; yet, just because
feeling does not exist apart from the other elements in con-
sciousness, but is one aspect of an indivisible reality the think-
ing, feeling, willing self it is impossible sharply to distinguish
the value which we attach to consciousness simply as feeling
from the value which we attach to it because it satisfies our
rational nature : for the lower kind of satisfaction often
depends upon and arises from our consciousness of the highest
kind of value. Enthusiasm for an idea religious or other
may produce some of the emotional, even some of the
physical, effects of the keenest sensuous enjoyment. It will no
doubt be urged that Philosophy has nothing to do with such
a vague and indefinable conception ; but a Philosophy which
fails to take account of the vague and inadequate language in
which alone it is possible to express our moral experience
must be a Philosophy which deliberately refuses to deal with
one side and that the most important and fundamental side
of that spiritual experience in which Reality consists. It is all
very well to protest against abstractions, but without abstractions
there is no thought. A Philosophy that would avoid abstrac-
tions must be speechless : and the Moral Philosophy of some of
my friends would seem to be practically speechless, except in so
far as it indulges in splenetic outbursts of abuse or contempt
against those who humbly endeavour to put their ethical views
into intelligible words. It is right no doubt to protest against
' one-sided abstractions ' ; but every abstraction must be one-sided
while it is actually being made. The only way to neutralize the
abstraction involved in looking at one side of a thing apart from
the other side is to look at the other side also at another time.
I trust that in contending for the indispensability of the
distinction between the pleasure-aspect and other aspects of
consciousness, and in contending that both have value, though
one has a higher value than the other, I have not violated this
doubtless important principle. The ideal end of life does not
consist in a mere aggregate of goods piled together without
mutual influence or interaction upon one another. No one
Chap, ii, v] HAPPINESS AND PLEASURE 57
of them indeed can be enjoyed or can exist in absolute isolation
from the other. And yet the nature of this ideal can only be
indicated for thought and for language by describing it as a
whole made up of distinguishable elements a good made up of
an hierarchy ] or ascending scale of goods.
There is another concept which seems to demand a brief
treatment in this connexion that of happiness. If we repudiate
the hedonistic identification of pleasure and happiness, what
account, it may be asked, are we to give of the latter? If we
regard pleasure as part, though not the whole, of the life that has
supreme value, is not this last, it may be suggested, very much
what we mean by happiness ? If we attempt (apart altogether
from theory) to analyse what as a matter of fact we commonly
mean when we talk of happiness, the answer will, I think, be
something of this kind. Happiness represents satisfaction with
one's existence as a whole with the past and the future as well
as with the immediate present. Happiness certainly cannot be
identified with pleasure, not even with the higher or more
refined kinds of pleasure. It is possible to get an enormous
amount of pleasure into one's life of pleasures that are recog-
nized as having a value and even a high value and yet to be
on the whole unhappy through the presence of desires which
are unsatisfied, dissatisfaction with the past 2 , anxiety as to the
future, unfulfilled aspirations, baffled hopes and the like 3 . It
1 Cf. the great Theologian Albrecht Hitachi's conception of the King-
dom of God : * The task of the Kingdom of God . . . includes likewise all
labour in which our lordship over nature is exercised for the maintenance,
ordering, and furtherance even of the bodily side of human life. For unless
activities such as these are ultimately to end in anti-social egoism, or in a
materialistic overestimate of their immediate results, they must be judged
in the light of those ends which, in ascending series, represent the social,
spiritual, and moral ideal of man' (The Christian Doctrine of Justification and
Reconciliation, Eng. Trans., 1900, p. 612).
2 Thus St. Augustine holds that ' perfecta beatitudo ' is impossible in this
life on account of the moral failures of the past and the present.
8 This distinction between happiness and pleasure is no doubt present to
the minds of those who make the end of life to be satisfaction of a 'timeless
58 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
is possible to endure a considerable amount of hardship, of
positive pain both bodily and mental, and yet to be on the
whole happy ; though we should certainly say that the removal
or mitigation of those pains would add to the happiness even of
those who are most ' self-sufficient for happiness/
There is therefore a difference between happiness and pleasure.
And yet it is impossible without paradox to dissociate the idea
of happiness altogether from that of pleasure. A happy life
must include some pleasure : all happiness is pleasiirable, though
not all pleasure is happiness. The pleasure which is an essential
part of happiness is no doubt pleasure of the kind which is
most dependent upon the man himself and least dependent upon
circumstances the kind of pleasure which, as Aristotle con-
tended, the higher activities necessarily bring with them. But
happiness is by no means altogether independent of external cir-
cumstances : there must, as Aristotle puts it, be that unimpeded
exercise of the higher faculties which is very much dependent
upon circumstances. Happiness depends largely upon health,
upon suitable work, upon a congenial marriage : and these are
emphatically things which are not in our own power. It is true
that some kinds of ill health or of uncongenial environment are
in some men compatible with a considerable measure of happi-
ness; and the people who are most capable of such happiness
are, no doubt, on the whole the best men. But nobody would
self. 5 But, apart from other objections, happiness, though it is distinguished
from pleasure (a) by being commonly attributed only to some considerable
period of a man's life and (b) by involving the satisfaction of desires which
* look before and after,' the satisfaction of the more permanent and dominant
aims and desires of a man's life, is still emphatically something in time.
Some people, it is probable, would say that parts of their life have been
happy, other parts unhappy, and most people that some parts have been
more happy or less unhappy than others. The objections which I make below
to regarding even a sublimated happiness as the end may be urged also to the
attempt to make the end consist in satisfaction of any kind. It is true no
doubt that any experience which we pronounce valuable must give satis-
faction, but to make satisfaction the end almost inevitably suggests that things
are valuable in proportion as they satisfy this or that individual's actual
desires, irrespective of their nature, whereas in fact we feel that it is better
to be 'a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied ; better to be Socrates
dissatisfied, than a fool satisfied 1 (Utilitarianism, p. 14).
Chap, ii, v] HAPPINESS AND GOODNESS 59
contend, ( except when defending a thesis/ that those complaints
which bring extreme depression with them as a mere physiological
consequence are compatible with any high degree of happiness.
And there. are 'blows' public or private calamities, failures,
bereavements which make the recovery of happiness impossible
to most men ; nor can it be laid down as a general proposition
that all good men are happy. To say how far a bad man can
be happy would involve pushing the definition of an essentially
vague conception further than it is commonly pushed. We
should have to talk of different kinds or different senses of
happiness. The bad man is no doubt generally unhappy because
any better desires that he has are unsatisfied, and because very
often his desires and inclinations are of a kind that are incom-
patible with one another, so that one part or aspect of his
nature is always unsatisfied : his life has no wholeness or unity.
But this is not perhaps always the case: the bad man no
doubt cannot get the same happiness as the good man, but he
may get what he wants, and so may attain a kind of happiness.
At all events we may say that, though, on the whole, goodness
tends to make people happy (far more generally than it tends
to increase the sum of their pleasures), men are not happy in
proportion to their goodness. We cannot, therefore, without
using words in unusual and unnatural senses, so far sublimate
the idea of happiness as to identify it with the end of life in
general, with consciousness that has value, with Well-being. It
is a most important element no doubt in true Well-being
a far more important one than pleasure ; or (if we say that
happiness is a particular kind of pleasure) it is a far more
valuable kind of pleasure than any other, and far more
inseparable than most other pleasures from the goods to which
we ascribe the very highest value. And yet it is not by itself
the good. We cannot say that it actually includes all forms of
pleasure that are valuable, high intellectual or aesthetic develop-
ment or even goodness, though the most complete kind of
happiness may presuppose the last. Still less, when the good
is unattainable, can we say that, among goods or elements of the
good, happiness is always the one that possesses the most value,
or is the one to which all others should be sacrificed. The
60 COMMENSURABILITY OF ALL VALUES [Book II
noblest kinds of self-devotion do involve a real sacrifice not
merely of pleasure but of happiness.
Happiness has this much in common with the good that for
most of us it represents an ideal which we can hardly pay that we
have ever enjoyed in the undiluted and unruffled fullness which
we picture to ourselves as possible and desirable ; that we can only
form an ideal conception of it by putting together, amplifying,
idealizing moments or periods or elements of our actual ex-
perience, supposing them continuously prolonged, and leaving
out all that disturbed or qualified the joyous moments while
they were actually there. Perfect happiness is no doubt an
ideal, but it is a different ideal from that of perfect Well-being.
It is an ideal which, at least for people who have in their way
higher desires and aspirations, is closely connected with the
highest elements in life, but still it cannot safely be made the
sole and direct object of pursuit by each individual for himself.
Perfect Well-being would doubtless include perfect happiness,
but it would include much more than we ordinarily mean by
happiness. The idea of happiness can no more be dispensed
with in any concrete account of the ideal life than the idea of
pleasure, and can equally little be identified with that of value.
It is not the whole of the ideal life, but an element or an aspect
of it. The ideal life or the good is an ultimate conception
which does not admit of further definition, and the content of
which we can only express by enumerating the various elements
or aspects of it, and then explaining in what way they are to
be combined. Among these elements happiness and pleasure are
both included, but they are not the whole; though no doubt
the kind of happiness and the kind of pleasure which do
enter into the ideal life are inseparable from those other
elements of it which we call goodness or the good will, know-
ledge, thought, the contemplation of beauty, love of other
persons and of what is best in them.
CHAPTER III
SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE
AT this point it seems desirable to define further the attitude
towards two opposite views with regard to the end of human
life which is implied in the preceding chapters, although the
question has not yet been raised in its conventional form. On
the one hand we are met by a doctrine very fashionable in
philosophical circles which finds the key to all ethical problems
in that comfortable word ' self-realization ' ; on the other hand
we have a doctrine, hardly ever expressly adopted in modern
Europe as the basis of a Moral Philosophy, but prominent in
much of the popular religious teaching, and some of the highest
religious teaching, of our age the doctrine which resolves all
Morality into self-sacrifice.
With the psychological doctrine that some form of personal
good is the object of every desire (though that good need not be
pleasure) I have already dealt. It seems to be open to exactly
the same objections as those urged by its supporters against
psychological Hedonism, into a refined form of which the doc-
trine of self-realization shows a strong tendency to degenerate.
I shall here therefore confine myself to the purely ethical
aspect of this fascinating formula ' Self-realization is the end
of life/
In order to subject the doctrine to any profitable criticism, it
seems necessary to attempt the by no means easy task of dis-
tinguishing the various possible senses in which this watchword
seems to be used by its devotees. The formula would probably
have proved less attractive, had these various senses been distin-
guished by those to whom it presents itself as a ' short and easy
way ' out of all ethical perplexities.
62 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
(1) Firstly, then, we may suppose that the upholder of self-
realization means exactly what he says. If he does, it seems
easy to show that what he is committing himself to is mere
self-contradictory nonsense. To realize means to ^make real.
You cannot make real what is real already, and the self must
certainly be regarded as real before we are invited to set about
realizing it 1 . Nor is the task to which we are invited rendered
easier when we are assured that the self, which is to become
something that it was not, is out of time, and consequently (one
might have vSupposed) insusceptible of change.
(2) But of course it will be said that what is actually meant
by self-realization is the realization of some potentiality or
capacity of the self which is at present unrealized. In this
sense no doubt it is true enough that Morality must consist in
some kind of self-realization. But to say so is to say something
'generally admitted indeed but obscure' (o^oKoyov^vov n aAA'
a<ra</K9), as Aristotle would have put it. In this sense the
formula gives us just no information at all. Fpr whatever you
do or abstain from doing, if you only sit still or go to sleep,
you must still be realizing some one of your capacities : since
nobody can by any possibility do anything which he was
not first capable of doing. Morality is self-realization beyond
i doubt, but then so is immorality. 'JJhe precious formula leaves
out the whole differentia of Morality; and it is a differentia
presumably which we are in search of when we ask, * What is
Morality? ' and are solemnly told, * It is doing or being something
which you are capable of doing or being V
(3) It may be maintained that Morality is the realization of
all the capacities of human nature. But this is impossible, since
one capacity can only be realized by the non-realization or
sacrifice of some other capacity. There can be no self-realization
1 It is of course possible to hold that the self is not real in an ultimate
metaphysical sense, but in that sense it is hard to see how it can be
made more real than it is, unless * real ' is used as a mere synonym of
1 good.'
2 '" Self-realisation " has always impressed me as a conundrum rather
than as its solution 1 (Adamson, Development of Modern Philosophy, II,
p. 109).
Chap, iii, i] MEANINGS OF SELF-REALIZATION 63
without^self^sacrifice. The good man and the bad alike realize
one element or capacity of their nature, and sacrifice another.
The whole question is which capacity is to be realized and which
is to be sacrificed. And as to this our formula gives us just no
information.
(4) Or more vaguely self-realization may be interpreted to
mean an equal, all-round development of one's whole nature
physical, intellectual, emotional. To such a view I should object
that, interpreted strictly and literally, it is just as impractic-
able as the last. It is impossible for the most gifted person to
become a first-rate Musician without much less completely
realizing any capacity he has of becoming a first-rate Painter.
It is impossible to become really learned in one subject without
remaining ignorant of many others : impossible to develope one's
athletic capacities to the full without starving and stunting the
intellect, impossible (as a simple matter of Physiology) to carry
to its highest point the cultivation of one's intellectual faculties
without some sacrifice of physical efficiency. There is a similar
collision between the demands of intellectual cultivation and
those of practical work. Up to a certain point it is extremely
desirable no doubt that every man should seek to improve his
mind, and also to engage in some sort of practical, social activity.
There is no practical work, except that which is purely mechan-
ical, which will not be the better done for a little study of some
kind or other : and, even where a man's ordinary work in life
is most purely practical, he has, or ought to have, a life of
practical citizenship outside his daily task which will be enriched
and enlarged by some kind of intellectual cultivation. It is
scarcely possible to exaggerate the extent for instance to which
the efficiency of the clerical or of the scholastic profession
would be increased if every clergyman and every schoolmaster,
however much absorbed in the work of his profession, were to
devote a few hours a week to serious study. And equally
valuable to the intellectual man is a certain measure of practical
experience equally valuable, at least in many cases, even in the
interests of his purely intellectual work. Familiar illustrations
are to be found in the value to Hume of his diplomatic appoint-
ment, the value to Macaulay and Grote (as is acknowledged by
6 4 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
the critics of a nation which has little experience in free political
life) of their parliamentary careers, the value to Gibbon even
of a few months' home service in the Hampshire militia. And,
even in spheres of intellectual labour less connected with practice
than the writing of History, a literary life may gain some-
thing from more active occupations. Up to a certain point it is
no doubt desirable that a man should endeavour to develope
different sides of his nature : but that point is soon reached.
Beyond that point there must come the inevitable sacrifice of
body to mind or of mind to body, of learning or speculative
insight to practical efficiency or of practical efficiency to learning
or insight.
It is the same within the intellectual sphere itself. There too
the law of sacrifice prevails. Up to a certain point no doubt
the man who is a mere specialist will be a bad specialist, but
that point is soon reached. Charles Darwin found that the
cultivation of reasoning power and observation had extinguished
his once keen imagination and aesthetic sensibility. And yet
who would wish whether in the interests of the world or in the
interests of what was best worthy of development in Charles
Darwin's own nature that his work should have been spoiled
in order that one of the three hours which was the maximum
working day his health allowed should have been absorbed
by politics or philanthropy ? Who would decide that the origin
of species should have been undiscovered, in order that the
man who might have discovered it should retain the power
of enjoying Wordsworth ? This notion of an equal, all-round,
' harmonious ' development is thus a sheer impossibility, excluded
by the very constitution of human nature, and incompatible with
the welfare of human society. And, in so far as some approxima-
tion to such an ideal of life is possible, it involves a very
apotheosis of mediocrity, ineffectiveness, dilettantism.
And there is a more formidable objection to come. If the
ideal of self-realization is to be logically carried out, it .guiat
involve the cultivation of a man's capacity for what vulgar
prejudice calls immorality as well as of his capacity for Morality.
It is quite arbitrary to exclude certain kinds of activity as ' bad/
because what we are in search of was some definition of the good
Chap, iii, i] ALL-ROUND DEVELOPMENT 65
in conduct, and we were told that it was the development of all
his^capacities. Mr. Bradley would really appear not to shrink
from the full acceptance of this corollary :
'This double effort of the mind to enlarge by all means its
domain, to widen in every way both the world of knowledge and
the realm of practice, shows us merely two sides of that single
impulse to self-realization, which most of us are agreed to find
so mystical. But, mystical or intelligible, we must bow to its
sway, for escape is impossible V
( To widen in every direction the sphere of knowledge/ That
may, in the abstract, be accepted. It would perhaps be hyper-
critical to suggest that there are some things not worth knowing,
that it would be an unprofitable employment to count the grains of
sand upon the sea- shore, and that even the pursuit of knowledge
must be governed and controlled by a certain selection based
upon an ideal comparison of values, which is the work of the
practical Reason. And again it might be well to remember that
there are things of which (with Mill) we may say that ' it is
necessary to be aware of them ; but to live in their contempla-
tion makes it scarcely possible to keep up in oneself a high
tone of mind. The imagination and feelings become tuned
to a lower pitch; degrading instead of elevating associations
become connected with the daily objects and incidents of life,
and give their colour to the thoughts, just as associations of
sensuality do in those who indulge freely in that sort of con-
templations 2 ' a reminder which, in view of Mr. Bradley's plea
for the apparently unlimited ' freedom of Art/ might seem to
be not wholly irrelevant. But to ' widen in every direction the
sphere of practice ' ! In the name of common sense, would not
an occasional incursion into the higher branches of crime vary
the sameness of Virtue and the dull monotony of Goodness ?
Is not a life compounded of good and evil 'wider' than an
experience which includes only good ? Could the attempt to
widen ' in every direction ' the sphere of practice end otherwise
than in a prison or a lunatic asylum if not in both? A
German thinker has urged that the failure of most Moral
1 The Principles of Logic, p. 452.
2 Three Essays on Religion, p. 248.
(56 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
Philosophers may be set down to the fact that as a class,
they have been rather exceptionally respectable men : the Moral
Philosopher should have experience both of Virtue and of vice l .
If * wideness * is to be sole criterion of practice, one does not see
why this catholicity of experience should be confined to pro-
fessional Moral Philosophers 2 .
(5) One possible interpretation of our formula remains, gslf-
tioa may mean the realization of a man's highest capacities
.sacrifice of the lower. No doubt, in a sense every school
of Moral Philosophy which allows of the distinction between
a ' higher ' and a ' lower ' at all would admit that Morality does
mean the sacrifice of the lower to the higher though it might
be objected that this ideal, taken literally, is too ascetic : the
lower capacities of human nature have a certain value: they
ought to be realized to a certain extent to be subordinated, not
' sacrificed/ except in so far as their realization is inconsistent
with that of the higher. But then there is nothing of all this in
the word ' self-realization/ And even with the gloss that ' self-
realization' means realization of the 'true' or 'higher' self, it
tells us just nothing at all about the question what this true
1 See Simmel's article on ' Moral Deficiencies as determining Intellectual
Functions' in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. Ill, July, 1893, p. 490.
Of course I do not profess here to do full justice to the distinguished writer's
argument.
2 'The sinner realises capabilities in this broad sense as much as
the saint. I lay stress on this, because it is important to recognise that one
of the subtlest and deepest of the impulses that prompt intellectual natures
to vice is the desire for full and varied realisation of capabilities, for rich-
ness of experience, for fulness of life ' (Sidgwick, Ethics of Green, Spencer
and Martineau, p. 64).
In a recent article on 'Truth and Practice* (Mind, N. S. no. 51, 1904,
p 322) Mr. Bradley writes, ' I have of course not forgotten that there are
" developments " of human nature which are undesirable and vicious. Why
these are undesirable is a question which I cannot discuss here. The answer
in general is that such things not only are contrary to the interest of our
whole nature, but also are hostile to the realisation of that very side of it
to which they belong.' If Mr. Bradley had always remembered this and
iome other things which he says in this article, the above criticism would
have been unnecessary. A thinker who is so ready to find contradictions or
absurdities in other people should surely be a little more precise in his own
use of language.
Chap, iii, i] HIGHER AND LOWER SELF 67
self -realisation is. In fact the formula which is presented to us
as the key to the ethical problem of the end of life, turns out
on examination to mean merely ' The end of life is the end of
life/ No .doubt it has been said that every attempt to define
Morality must have the appearance of moving in a circle. In
a sense that may be the case. The moral cannot be defined
in terms of the non-moral. But then that is just what
our formula attempts to do, and that is just the source of its
futility. Moreover, when the word ' self-realization ' is presented
to us, not merely as an account of the end, but also as the
immediate criterion for the individual's conduct, it is open to
the objection that it says exactly nothing about the fundamental
question of Ethics the question of the relation of my end to
that of others.
(6) This last difficulty would be removed if, with Mr. Bradley
in one of his phases (a phase difficult to reconcile with the
definition given above), we contend that the_&elL which ie
realized in Morality, actually includes in itself all the selves in
wlioinj ,_feel au interest:
* If rny self which I aim at is the realization in me of a moral
world which is a system of selves, an organism in which I am a
member, and in whose life I live then I cannot aim at my OWE
well-being without aiming at that of others. The others are
not mere means to me, but are involved in my essence V
Now to the adoption of self-realization in this sense as an
answer to the ethical problem I should object (a) that the in-
terpretation is not the one which is naturally suggested by that
term. IJLtlie., end of life is (in part or in whole) to attain the
ends of others besides myself, that is a most important truth
which should surely be emphasized in any answer, however
summary, to the question, ' What is the end of life ? ' ; and not
left to be understood in a formula which takes no explicit account
of it. (b) We are as far off as ever from knowing what the
' realization ' of the other selves, which is included in the realiza-
tion of mine, really is. (c) The proposition that I cannot attain
my end without promoting the end of others is at all events
1 Ethical Studies, p. 105.
68 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
an intelligible proposition. Not so, I respectfully submit, the
proposition that ' others are involved in my essence V Such
an assertion seems to me to ignore the very essence of self-
hood, which excludes an absorption or inclusion in otjier selves,
however closely related to us. Of course, Mr. Bradley will reply
that we cannot distinguish a thing from its relations. And yet
Mr. Bradley has himself taught us no one more effectively
that there cannot be relations without something to relate. No
doubt a thing, which does not exist for itself, but only in and for
a mind, cannot even in thought be abstracted from its relations :
the thing is made what it is by its intelligible relations, if we
include in its relations the content which it has for a mind
other than itself. But this is not so with a self. Unquestion-
ably there can be no subject without an object ; the very nature
of a subject is constituted by its knowledge of such and such
objects. The objects that it knows are part of the self ; in the
view of a thorough-going Idealism, indeed, the subject and its
experiences make up one spiritual being. But, all the same, of
such a spiritual being it is not true that it is made what it
is by its relation to other spiritual beings in the same way as
a mere thing, which exists for others and not for itself, is made
what it is by its relations. The thing has no exse except to be
felt, thought, experienced ; the way it enters into the experience
of minds is the only sort of being it possesses. On the other
hand, the * esse f of the soul is to think, to feel, to experience.
This thinking, feeling, experiencing does undoubtedly include
relations to other selves ; but such relations are not the whole of
its being. The experiences of a soul may be like those of another
soul : they may be caused by and dependent upon the experiences
of another soul. But the experiences of one soul cannot be or
become identical with the experience of another soul : the content
of two consciousnesses may be the same the universal abstracted
from the particular, but not the reality 2 : neither, therefore, can
the good of one soul or self be the good of another, or be included
in or be part of the good of another. Hence, if we are to avoid
1 A position further developed in the Chapter on ' Good ' in Appearance
and Reality.
8 I have further discussed this matter below in Bk. Ill, chap. i.
Chap, iii, i] SELF CANNOT INCLUDE OTHERS 69
a mysticism which frankly takes leave of intelligibility, we
cannot include any realization of the capacities of others in our
conception of self-realization, however essential to such realiza-
tion the good of others may be. If all that is meant is that
other selves may be ends to me, not mere means, that is pre-
cisely the point which is usually disguised, if it is not denied, by
those who employ the formula * self-realization.' The tendency
of. the phrase is to represent all moral conduct as motived by
a jlesire for my own good, into which consideration of others
can only enter as means to the realization of my end. Even if
there be a more ultimate metaphysical sense in which my self
and others are really the same self, that is not in the sense with
which we have to do with selves in Ethics : in Ethics at least we
are concerned with the relations between a plurality <3f selves l .
Further defence of this last objection would carry us more
deeply into the metaphysical region than it would be in place
to go at present. But I trust that what has l>een said will be
enough to suggest that there is nothing to be gained by. the use
of this ambiguous, mysterious term. It tells us nothing im-
portant, nothing that could not be better expressed in some other
way. It is an attempt to evade the real problems of Morality
instead of answering them. That is sufficiently indicated by the
fact that it is equally popular with writers whose real ethical
ideals are as wide apart as the poles with the school of the late
Professor Green and with the school of Mr. Bradley, with those
whose ideal is austere to the point of Asceticism and with those
by whom a large part of what the plain man calls Morality is
regarded as an exploded superstition. For some people it has the
attraction of a vague, imposing technicality, acting like ' that
comfortable word Mesopotamia ' upon the mind of the pious old
woman. With others ijLls. a mere cover for a more or less
refined Hedonism ^ What they really mean is 'the end of life
1 * From " self-seeking " to disinterested benevolence there is no road, and
the apparent subsumption of both under a common name by the theory of
self-realisation, turns out at closer inspection to be little more than a piece
of verbal legerdemain ' (Taylor, The Problem of Conduct, p. 193).
2 I do not say that this is so with any English Philosopher of repute , but
bhe possibility of thus understanding the phrase accounts for the enthusiasm
Df some of its younger votaries.
70 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
is to have a good time/ but they do not quite like to say so
because there is a vulgar prejudice against that view; and
besides, in academic circles there is a general consensus that
Hedonism is unphilosophical. To minds of a highep order no
doubt the term appeals simply because it is a protest against the
practical exaggerations and the logical difficulties of the attempt
to exalt ' self -sacrifice 1 into an all-sufficing expression of the moral
ideal. The best way, therefore, of bringing out the truth
expressed as it seems to me, badly and cumbrously expressed
by the use of the term * self-realization ' will be to examine the
claims of the counter-ideal of self-sacrifice to sum up in itself
the essence of all Morality.
II
Why cannot the ideal of self-sacrifice be accepted as the last
word in Ethics ?
(1) For the same reason that we saw to be fatal to the
antagonistic formula of ' self-realization.' Just as there can be
no self-realization or (to use a term less open to objection) ' self-
development ' without self-sacrifice, so there _can be jjojself-
sacrific^ witliouk,&eUriaBali^jaition. In denying or sacrificing one
part or element or jcapacity of the self, a man is necessarily
asserting or developing another. Complete or absolute self-
sacrifice is possible only in the form of suicide, if even so ; for
after all suicide is always a kind of self-assertion, and often a
kind of selfishness. What-of course is meant by those who use
the term is that the highest self is to be asserted or developed,
and that the individual attains his true end by the sacrifice of
his lower inclinations or desires for the sake of other people.
To gain the lower life is to lose the higher : to lose the lower is
to gain the true life. That is the very essence of the highest
moral teaching that the world has known. But then the formula
'self-sacrifice' only expresses one half of that doctrine; and
the one-sided formula often leads to much one-sidedness and
exaggeration in ethical thought and even in practical Morality.
(2) It needs little reflection to show that sJlrsaGi?ific& 0* its
ooaoi #ke ia always irrational and immoral. It is the object for
which the sacrifice is made that gives it its moral value. Ijjig
Chap, iii, ii] IDEAL OF SELF-SACRIFICE 71
aiway*.SQme good of another or some higher gcxxTaf the indi-
viduaLthat is the object of legitimate self-sacrifice. On reflection
this would probably be admitted by the austerest of ascetics.
The fleshes to be subdued to the spirit that is the theory
of Asceticism. And to a large extent the fallacy of Asceticism
in its ordinary sense consists in a sheer psychological mistake
about the tendency of bodily austerities or privations to promote
a higher and more spiritual life. That long-continued hunger
will eventually lead men to see visions and dream dreams which,
in minds educated in a certain way, will assume a religious form,
is no doubt a psychological fact, which is of great importance
historically as supplying at least a partial explanation of the
practice of fasting as a religious rite. But (waiving the ques-
tion of the religious value of such psychical states or of the
less vivid ecstasies which may sometimes be produced by fasting
of a less extreme character) it is the testimony of countless
ascetics in all ages 1 that the more they scourged and tormented
themselves, stood up to their chins in swamps or rolled themselves
among thorns, the more gross became their sensual imaginings
the more clamorous and insistent their passions. In less extreme
cases it is probable that there has been an enormous exaggera-
tion of the spiritual value, for the great majority at least, oi
solitude, hardship, and privation. The tendency of such self-
conscious effort to crush the appetites is simply to concentrate
attention upon them. In general, a man's mind is not raised
above the level of the lower desires and animal inclinations bj
austerity, but by healthy preoccupation with social or intel-
lectual activity. Of course there may be room for Asceticism
by way of discipline. We may deny ourselves in things that dc
not matter in order to strengthen the will in resistance tc
inclination where it does matter, But it may be doubted
whether the self -consciousness attendant upon such self-inflicted
disciplinary privations at least in communities where they are
not recognized by social custom is not a grave objection to them.
The real needs of our fellow men afford the completest scope
1 Even to the attenuated fasts of modern times these remarks are not
wholly inapplicable. There is a sermon of Cardinal Newman on * -Fa sting a
Source of Trial/ Ought temptations to be artifically multiplied ?
73 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
for rational curtailment of the lower kinds of self-indulgence,
whether this takes the form of periodical abstinence, of habitual
moderation, or of self-denial in other things besides eating and
drinking.
But, whatever may be thought about the kind and degree of
self-denial which really promote the higher life, there will be
little quarrel with the general principle that sglj^sacrifice is not
the end, but a means to the good of others or to the higher good
qf the mail himself : and perhaps it will even be admitted that self-
denial for our own spiritual good is more likely to attain its end,
the more directly the indulgence which is surrendered stands in
the way of something higher for instance, by wasting time
or money which might be employed upon self-improvement or
social service. This will generally be conceded : and yet there
can be no doubt that in practice the greaching^of Asceticism has
a tendency to degenerate into the idea that self -inflicted pain
h&a ia ;& something intrinsically virtuous or meritorious and is
therefore well-pleasing to God, even when God is conceived of
as a righteous and loving Father. And at one point such a
notion may find formal defenders among Christian Theologians 9
There has been in various ages, if there does not now survive,
a widespread belief in the expiatory value of suffering. Such
a notion seems to be implied in the retributive theory of
punishment which has already been examined and rejected. If
punishment really does wipe out guilt or assert the Moral Law
or what not, there seems no reason why it should be confined
to. the case of legal offences or why it should not be self-inflicted ;
and it might even be contended plausibly enough that its ex-
piatory value need not be diminished when the penalty is paid
by some one other than the sufferer \ As I have already discussed
1 It is a deeply significant fact that, according to some authorities, the
original idea of ritual sacrifice was not expiation, but communion with the
Deity through participation in the common meal originally the blood of
the Totem-animal. The idea of expiation only came in because the natural
way of renewing the tie between the tribe and the god when it had been
weakened through an offence seemed to be a special repetition of the act by
which the blood-bond had been created and kept alive. Thus the idea of
expiation as the dominant idea in sacrifice represents a degradation of the
original conception. (See Robertson Smith's Chapter on ' Sacrifice ' in his
Chap, iii, ii] LIMITS TO SELF-SACRIFICE 73
what is virtually the same question in connexion with the theory
of punishment, I need only add that I can see no meaning in
expiation except the tendency of suffering (under certain con-
ditions) to. make the sufferer morally better. Even within the
limits of severely orthodox Theology much support might be
found for the proposition that the remission of sins necessarily
follows upon repentance, and that repentance ultimately means
change of will or character.
(3) Not only does a one-sided doctrine of self -sacrifice
exaggerate the value of thwarting lower desires as a means to
the gratification of the higher, but it errs by denying all value
to those lower goods the surrender of which it advocates. In
the first place it fails to appreciate the fact that desires other
than the pure impulse to do one's duty for its own sake have
a value of their own, and may become, when duly regulated,
the basis of the highest virtues : and that is the case not merely
with such purely intellectual impulses as the love of know-
ledge, but with many which, in themselves and apart from their
subordination to a higher purpose, are purely animal, and may
degenerate into the inspiring motives of crime and vice. The
raw material, so to speak, of Virtue and Vice are the same
i. e. desires which in themselves, abstracted from their relation
to the higher self, are not either moral or immoral but simply
non -moral 1 . Anger in some forms is the most an ti- social of all
passions : while indignation against vice is an essential element
in the ideal character. To hate the right things, to hate that
in persons which is worthy of hatred, is as essential an object
of all moral education as to love the right things, and to love
those possibilities of higher things which exist in the vilest. An
animal impulse is to many men the basis of the most powerful
temptation and of the highest affection that they ever know.
Religion of the Semites, p. 213 sq., and Jevons, History of Religion, p. 144 sq.)
Whatever may be thought of the chronological order of the ideas,
the corruption and degradation of Religion at every stage" of its develop-
ment is closely connected with the prominence of the idea* of expiation as
compared with that of communion or fellowship between the Deity and his
worshippers.
1 *E* rS>v avT&v KOI ftia TG>*> avr&v KOI ytWrni nava iiptrrj KOI <0eipeTcu. Aris-
totle, Eth, Nic. II. i. (p. 1103 &).
74 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
The gregarious instinct that prompts us to seek the society and
approval of our fellow-men is the most fruitful source of moral
failure when it attaches itself to narrow social circles and low
social ideals : duly developed in a certain direction and cultivated
in a certain way it blossoms into the ' enthusiasm of humanity/
The denial of this truth forms the great fallacy into which the
ascetics of all ages have fallen. The principle was inadequately
grasped by Plato, who, while recognizing the moral usefulness
of the combative instinct (TO 0v/xoei6^$) as the ally of Reason
against the lower passions, did not see that these too were
capable of being, and ought to be in various degrees, educated
and guided by Reason, instead of being merely crushed and
suppressed. It was ignored by Kant when he thought that
every wise man would fain be wholly free from desire. It was
ignored by the Stoics when they recommended the suppression
of emotion. It is the great glory of Aristotle, and of his dis-
ciples the mediaeval Schoolmen, to have grasped firmly the idea
that Reason should control, discipline, regulate the desires instead
of extinguishing them, and that rightly regulated desire is as
essential an element of the ideal character as the paramount
supremacy of Reason or Conscience l .
(4) In certain directions and to a certain extent, then, all
natural impulses are susceptible of being taken up into, and
actually transformed into, those more social tendencies of the self
the predominance of which is ordinarily spoken of as self-sacri-
fice. But, even where this is not the case, moral Reason does no<
seem to sanction the idea that these lower desires, or the good*
which are the objects of them, possess no intrinsic value at all
The ideal human life does demand a certain amount of these
1 This constitutes the real meaning and importance of the doctrine that
Virtue is a mean nepl nadrj KO\ irpd&is, a mean between the excess and defect
of each kind of feeling or acting, however inadequate such a doctrine may
be as a moral criterion. Aristotle's mistake was to give an exaggerated
prominence to one of the most important ways in which Reason regulates
the irdOr) and Trpnf etf, that of quantity ; this made it necessary to find two
vices between which to place each virtue. This can generally be done, but
not always. The inadequacy and unsatisfactoriness of Aristotle's list of
virtues arises largely from the necessity of excluding all virtues which cannot
conveniently be squeezed into the form of a mean between two vices
Chap, iii, ii] ASCETICISM 75
lower goods. The ideal human life is not a life of pain and want
and discomfort. The ascetic seldom suggests that we should
promote such a life for others. To be virtuous on the rack is
better thap^ to be vicious off' it ; but there is one thing that is
better than being virtuous on the rack, and that is to be virtuous
off it. c It is better ' (according to the admission of J. S. Mill)
'to be Socrates dissatisfied than to be a fool satisfied:' but there
is one thing that is better than either to be Socrates satisfied.
What is the relation of the higher and the lower goods, what
amount or degree of the lower is consistent with or most con-
ducive to the due predominance of the higher in human lives,
is a question about which men may reasonably differ, but it
must not be assumed that it is always the irreducible minimum.
And the true answer will of course be different for different
men. The great practical mistake of the more moderate ascetic
teaching has been to lay upon average men burdens too great for
them, to require a repression of natural instincts and desires which
in them (whatever be the case with exceptional natures) does not
promote the healthy development of character and the efficient
conduct of life. The necessity of exercise, amusement, society,
even in the interests of moral Well-being, is recognized by the
best religious Ethics of the present day as it has hardly been
recognized by the religious teaching of the past. This of course,
it may be said, implies merely the treatment of those lower
goods as means to a higher end : but it would be perhaps hard
to defend the place which the best men of our day would assign
to them in the life which they want to promote for the mass of
men without admitting that there are elements in the ideal life
elements possessing an independent, though subordinate, worth
of their own other than the cultivation of the good will, other
than socially useful activity or high intellectual cultivation. And
even for the best men it is hardly felt that it is wrong to eat or
drink more than is absolutely essential to health, to spend time
in conversation or light reading that might without mental
breakdown be devoted to work. Or, if for exceptional persons
it is felt that this indulgence of lower goods ought to be cut
down to the minimum point that is compatible with the maximum
of social efficiency, we should probably on reflection justify this
76 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
course, partly on the ground that such men will attain the
greatest good for them in exertions which go beyond the powers
of most ; and partly on the principle that, if for some persons
it is a duty to sacrifice much that is not normally inconsistent
with the predominance of the highest interests, the sacrifice is
demanded by the value of the other lives which are helped by
their exertions, without any disparagement or contempt for the
ordinary sources of healthy human enjoyment. The ascetic life
which is devoted to the procuring of an enjoyable life for others,
for the sake of that life, is no longer ascetic in principle.
(5) And that brings us to a last necessary qualification of the
one-sided ideal of self-sacrifice. Normally and in the abstract,
Reason does not demand that a man should give up any good of
his own except for the greater good of some one else. And, in
estimating the greatness of the good, we must of course not
include the good implied by the sacrifice itself. The test would
become nugatory if we held that the man who sacrifices himself
always gets the greater good, just because his act is one of self-
sacrifice. Speaking broadly and generally, Reason does not (as
it appears to me) hold that it is good to promote (say) the
comfort and convenience of another person by the sacrifice of
a much greater comfort and convenience of one's own. Of
course the .stronger altruistic impulses will tend to overleap this
restriction, to
reject the lore
Of nicely calculated less or more.
And there may be times and circumstances in which the calmest
reflection may discern such a beauty and propriety in the sacri-
fice that it will pronounce { good on the whole ' to result from
it, as when a mother, not grudgingly or of necessity but willingly
and spontaneously, gives up much more for her child than he
will gain by the sacrifice : but normally and apart from any
special circumstances or relations of the persons, I do not think
it can be said that we do on calm reflection approve the sacrifice
of more for less. If Sir Walter Raleigh's act in spreading his
cloak in the mud to make a dry place for Queen Elizabeth to
walk on be approved in spite of the fact that the gain to the
Queen was probably smaller than the damage to Sir Walter's
Chap, iii, ii] INCONSISTENCY OF ALTRUISM 77
cloak, it must be on account of the special relation in which
a Queen stands to her subject.
(6) The requirement of unlimited Altruism would involve
self -contradiction. If I judge that another's pleasure is a good
thing for me to promote I cannot logically deny that my own
pleasure is a good too a good intrinsically worthy of being
promoted. It cannot be right for me to spend my labour in
producing that which it is wrong for another to receive in
growing fruit, for instance, which it would be wicked for another
to eat. At some point or other enjoyment must begin: the
end of life cannot be a continual passing on of something to
another. It may be urged that the ideal is that I should be
producing something for another, and find my good in doing so:
while lie is working in turn for my good, and finds his good in
doing so. That is no doubt the true ideal a life in which
work for lower needs is elevated by becoming social or reciprocal,
enjoyment of lower goods consecrated by being shared. But
common sense will clearly set some limit to this exchange of
services : some things each of us does better for himself than
another can do them for him. The greater part of most ordinarily
good men's lives resists this sharp distinction into an egoistic and
an altruistic part : it is egoistic and altruistic at the same time.
But this very interchange of services, which is at the basis of
all social life, would be impossible if men would not consent to
be served as well as to serve. We may share enjoyment with
another, but not the enjoyment of the very same thing; two
people cannot possibly eat the same apple. If the apple is ever
to be eaten instead of being passed on, that implies a limit to
Altruism 1 . If it were never right for me to eat it, it would not
be right for me to encourage the egoism of my neighbour by
inviting him to do so.
So Long as we confine ourselves to the higher goods, the
limitation of altruistic self-sacrifice in the interests of personal
1 I am here thinking of the normal or average man. What is said about
limitations to self-sacrifice (and to Asceticism in so far as self-sacrifice involves
Ascfeticism) must be qualified by what is said below in the chapteron* Vocation.'
In particular cases much sacrifice may be right which would become irrational
if imposed upon all.
78 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
culture will readily be admitted. It will be conceded that
the whole energy of a community ought not to be absorbed
in the production of material goods ; nor can it well be conceived
of as being entirely absorbed in the work of mutual, edification,
in the direct improvement of each other's characters. What is
to be done then with the rest of it ? Various forms of intellectual
or aesthetic self-development and enjoyment seem to remain as
the only possible object of rational pursuit. No doubt most
intellectual activities are capable of assuming a social direction.
I can write books or compose poetry or research or play the
piano for the benefit of others, and not merely for my own
enjoyment. But then it cannot be right for me to play or com-
pose music which it would be sinful waste of time for another
to listen to. It is clear, therefore, that some portion of an
individual's time and energy may rightly be given to the enjoy-
ment of higher goods for their own sake without any further
social object.
With regard to lower goods, more scruple may be felt at the
employment of this argument. It may be said that there is
really no inconsistency in holding that it is always better to
surrender to another any lower object of enjoyment which is
not positively demanded by my own efficiency, and therefore,
ultimately, the good of others : for it is not because it is good
for another to enjoy himself that I think it right to make the
sacrifice, but because it is a charitable act and beneficial to my
character to give him that pleasure. But, onco agairi A if pleasure
is not to be thought of as a good, how can it be morally good to
spend time and labour in producing it ? And, if it is good for
another, it must be good up to whatever point, within whatever
limits for me also. The ideal of unlimited self-sacrifice involves
obvious and inevitable self-contradiction.
Ill
Considerations like these may easily be pushed to the point of
representing that the idea of self-sacrifice forms no essential
part of the true moral ideal. That ideal, it may be urged, is
always the subordination of the lower to the higher the
development of the different parts of the man's nature not,
Chap, iii, iii] MORALITY INVOLVES SACRIFICE 79
indeed, in all directions equally, but in the true order of their
relative worth or importance. And in this subordination there
need be nothing which can be properly called sacrifice at all
no sense of pain or contraction, no struggle or resistance to
inclination. For the good man will recognize in social service
the opportunity of developing his truest self. It will cost him
no pain to be temperate, to control his appetites, to be (within
reasonable limits) unselfish and hard-working : for he sees that
these things are for his own good. All his desires are so com-
pletely dominated and directed by Reason that he has no desire
for indulgences which would interfere with perfect intellectual
clearness and perfect control of appetite : he loves work, occupa-
tion in the service of the community, or some intellectual pursuit
for its own sake. This perfect 'harmony' between the various
elements of a man's nature, it may be urged, is the true ideal.
Self-sacrifice must be at most an incident of imperfect ' adjust-
ment ' between the individual and his environment. The require-
ment of it must belong to the imperfect Morality of youth ; to
the youth of the race, or at most to the defective organization
of human society. This line of thought is in various forms so
prevalent that, at the risk of some repetition, it may be worth
while to consider what amount of truth we can recognize in it.
Briefly I should reply that the kind of harmony which such
speculations bid us seek is rendered for ever impossible (i) by
the nature of man, (2) by the nature of things, (3) by the nature
of human society.
(i) The extinction of self-sacrifice, felt as such, is inconsistent
with the attainment of the highest character owing to the
constitution of human nature.
That Virtue cannot be attained without a struggle was
admitted even by Aristotle. But then to Aristotle the man was
not. good until the virtuQiwu-UwUttt^^ fully formed. He
assumed, .that the imperfectly virtuous acts by which the habit
of virtuous action was formed would be done from some non-
moral motive. How the repetition of a series of acts influenced
by ivholly non-moral motives would result in a habit of acting
frqm moral motives, of doing the virtuous act for its own sake,
is never satisfactorily explained; that is the great hiatus of
80 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
Aristotle's ethical system. So far is it from being true that
there is no moral value in the struggle against temptation
so long as the pleasantness of the pleasure renounced is felt,
that moral value seems to the modern mind to be at its maximum
in such struggles l . The amount of struggle which goes to the
formation of a virtuous character is no doubt very various. To
some men goodness seems more or less to come naturally ; to
others only after long and strenuous conflict. That natural
tendency to evil which Theologians have called 'original sin'
seems to be very unequally distributed ; and very unequal
in different men is the strength of those purely animal impulses
which, though in themselves not evil, do not at once submit
to rational control. The needful struggle is doubtless pro-
portionately unequal. But it is difficult- t^-8ee~4io:
some struggle a virtuous eh&r&eter eaB-be-logttiecl at all.
tainly, in the absence of temptation the character cannot fee
tested ; and until the character has been tested, there would
seem to be rather the potentiality of Virtue or character tk&*t
the actuality of it. The struggle need not be always kept up,
but it must have been gone through. Perhaps we may have
in this consideration some glimpse of a clue to the real meaning
of evil in a rationally governed Universe. But at all events,
confining ourselves to human life as we know it, we may
say that it is in and through the struggle that the good will
most emphatically asserts itself. In this sense at all events
Morality can never lose the aspect of self-sacrifice.
But is this alU When is this education of the character
to stop? Even Aristotle admitted that for the mass of men
the necessity of moral discipline, in the shape of Law, was
not confined to youth ; and that implies that for them at least
the desirable harmony could not be practically attained in
absolute perfection. It was probably the extreme moderation
of the demands which, under ordinary circumstances, Aristotle's
1 It is curious to find a writer so little prone to any form of Rigorism as
Simmel exaggerating this aspect of Morality so far as to maintain that
there is no merit except where the virtuous impulse has had to struggle
against another, and that the merit is proportionate to the effort (Einleitung,
T, p. 264*5.).
Chap, iii, iii] PERFECT HARMONY IMPOSSIBLE 8j
ethical code imposed upon the inclinations of a cultivated Greek
gentleman that prevented his recognizing that that desirable
condition in which nothing that waa wrong would ever present
itsalLaa4ll^aant was practically not attainable in this life even
by the best of men. This consideration will at least suggest
the practical danger of making * harmony ' the primary aim
of moral effort : the feeling of ' harmony ' in the self-satisfied
man of culture, like the 'peace' of conventional religionism,
is quite as likely in practice to be the outcome of a low ideal
as of a perfected * habit ' of Virtue. Still, it may be urged,
however far off and difficult of attainment it may be, ' harmony '
is the ideal : the feeling of struggle is always a note of imper-
fection. But is this always and necessarily so ?
Aristotle's account of the formation of the virtuous ' habit '
with the consequent disappearance of struggle is no doubt
a fairly accurate description of the inner life of the good
man under favourable circumstances, so long as we confine
ourselves to the very limited range of moral experience which
was probably present to Aristotle's mind. We should not think
highly of a man who continued to feel very painfully throughout
life the struggle to prevent the more violent explosions of
temper or to avoid grossly over-eating and over-drinking
himself. No doubt the effort to overcome the more vulgar
or animal temptations does normally become indefinitely easier
after a certain period of resistance. But does it always do so ?
And is not the extent to which it does so quite as much de-
pendent upon physiological constitution as upon character?
Can we say that a man's character is defective because a healthy
appetite would always prompt him to eat somewhat more than
a sedentary life or a weak digestion or a slender purse or the
claims of others may make it his duty to take? Is a man
intemperate because he could always enjoy one more glass of
wine or a better wine than it is right habitually to indulge
in ? No doubt in normal cases, where the mind is duly occupied
with higher interests, and where outward circumstances are
favourable, the struggle does become something which it sounds
a little ridiculous to call pain or sacrifice. But, however small,
the struggle is sufficient to prevent our talking of perfect
RASHDALT, II G
8a SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
harmony. It must be remembered, however, that there are
other passions against which in some men the struggle is longer
and fiercer; and then again we cannot limit our attention
to these grosser temptations. There are temptations which
are closely connected with the development of the higher part
of a man's nature. Every moral conquest brings subtler tempta-
tions with it spiritual pride, love of power, love of every-
thing good (other than the supreme good) above its true
value, at the wrong time, in the wrong place. It would
not be a note of perfection but of imperfection not to feel
temptations such as these. However attenuated in the higher
oharaciers^the struggle may become (though I am not sure that
it is in the highest characters that the struggle is mildest), $till
tb.e mere feeling that something which in not right would
be in itself very nice is enough to preclude the possibility of
absolutely unruffled ' harmony/ and to compel us to regard self-
sacrifice as a necessary element in all Morality as it exists under
present human conditions. And that brings me to my second point.
(2) The extinction of self-sacrifice is inconsistent with the
nature of things with the actual conditions of life on this planet.
Even Aristotle admitted that it was only under perfectly
favourable circumstances that the exercise of Virtue brought
with it complete and perfect eiSatfxoria. ' External supplies
to a greater or a lesser extent ' were necessary freedom from
pain and grave misfortune ; free scope for the energies and
activities, moral and intellectual, in the exercise of which true
happiness was to be found. And this was not all. There
was at least one virtue whose exercise was normally painful.
The courageous man would no doubt feel the joy of battle ;
he would feel pleasure at the accomplishment of his desire to do
brave deeds : but toil and wounds and death were not less
painful to him than to other men nay, more so, inasmuch as
it is to the best men that life is most desirable l . Now the
1 Aristotle, Eth. NIC. III. 9 ( p. 1117 1). The passage concludes : ot> bfj iv
and<rais ralf aptrats TO qdc'o? cixpyiiv \mdp\t ^ n\r)i> *'<' 8vov rot) rcXou? f 0a7rrercu.
The last words contain the truth which the psychological Hedonists and
the ' self-realizers ' exaggerate. They forget that this pleasure is often, as
Aristotle points out, very small in comparison with the surrounding pain.
Chap, iii, iii] 'EXTERNAL SUPPLIES' 83
absence of favourable circumstances, which from the point of
view of the affluent Greek gentleman might be fairly treated
as exceptional, is in truth with the mass of human beings
the normal state of things. What presented itself to Aristotle
as a somewhat anomalous characteristic of a particular virtue
is, to an age which recognizes social obligations in excess of
Aristotle's standard, the normal accompaniment at least of
the higher kinds of moral effort. The virtue no doubt brings
pleasure, but the circumstances of the struggle are painful.
Opposition, unpopularity, failure, ill health, boredom, monotony
these at the lowest (to say nothing of the graver ills of more
strenuous and heroic lives) good men must normally be prepared
to face in greater or less degree, and the acceptance of such
evils often the direct consequence of their goodness consti-
tutes self-sacrifice. The amount of such things which the good
man has to face varies no doubt enormously. A man is not
necessarily to be thought less good because the circumstances
of his life make the exercise of his capacities pleasant and
interesting to himself: but still in a rough way it is true
that what are in our view tlisi- _noblet .-qualities of human
ctuuaiiter less so no doubt in Aristotle's view, still less so
in that of modern paganizing Moralists have normally to
be exhibited in ways which involve a good deal that is un-
pleasant. And in the most fortunate lives the mere necessity
of working when one is tired would be enough to prevent
our taking the pleasantness of our activity as an all-sufficient
index of the degree to which a virtuous 'habit' has been
formed. Aristotle, it is probable, would hardly have recognized
under normal circumstances the necessity of a man working
when he would rather rest. It is doubtful whether even a
leading statesman in ancient Athens was required to pass many
more hours in an office than was agreeable and hygienic : and
as to theoretic activities, why should a Greek gentleman of
independent means (and no one else could be truly virtuous),
who studied, and researched, and talked for his own pleasure
and not for the sake of others, go on thinking or reading or
writing when he was tired 1 In Aristotle's view working when
one was tired might be left to slaves. By any one who is
84 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
not prepared to admit either that it is always right to stop
work when one is tired, or that physical weariness is a sign
of moral imperfection, the idea of the complete correspondence
between duty and inclination, even in the best men, must
be given up. And if so, we must look upon self -sacrifice as
no mere accidental, temporary, or occasional accompaniment
of Morality, but as a very important element in the normal
virtuous life. Inasmuch as it asserts this fact, the popular
tendency to identify Morality with self-sacrifice possesses far
more and far deeper truth than the ' self-realization ' doctrine
of our ethical exquisites.
(3) The attempt to banish self-sacrifice from the virtuous
life is inconsistent with the structure of human society.
The nature of man and of his material environment is such,
we have seen, that even the effort to develope his own highest
capacities cannot always, even in the best men, be altogether
free from painful struggle. Still more obvious and still more
serious is the collision between the claims of the individual and
the claims of his fellows. The fullest development of what
might (apart from such social considerations) be regarded as
the highest capacities of the individual is, not exceptionally
but normally, inconsistent with the development of those same
capacities in others. Both the material and the higher interests
of mankind constantly demand of the individual the sacrifice
of his personal culture and self-development physical, emo-
tional, and (in a sense) even moral, i. e. many sides of character
which it would in the abstract be good to cultivate. The fullest
development of the individual must be sacrificed in order that
there may be some development of other individuals. Or,
if we say that the social self which is cultivated by the
sacrifice of intellectual growth and emotional culture is after
all the highest self, still the sacrifice of lower capacities to
capacities in themselves good and noble must be made long
before the point at which it could be said that they positively
interfere with the higher, except in so far as their further
cultivation is incompatible with the highest principle of all
the principle of submission to that moral Reason which dictates
the subordination of the individual's good to the requirements
Chap, iv, iv] RECONCILIATION 85
of social Well-being. If that * harmony * or wholeness in the
moral life on which it is the fashion to insist means the
subordination of all other impulses to this, then indeed the
harmony is possible. If it is this self that is to be ' realized/
then indeed self-realization is possible, but such a self-realization
is necessarily also a limitation : it involves, that is to say, much
of what ordinary men call self-sacrifice sacrifice not merely of
the bad self but of much that is intrinsically good and noble l .
There is no realization of the ' self ' as a whole, or even of
the ' higher self as a whole: and, if that is so, it were best
surely to avoid putting forward the catch- word ' self-realization '
as the essential feature of the moral life.
IV
Arid yet, as I have already endeavoured to show, the ideal of
self-sacrifice, though it undoubtedly insists on what is from a
practical point of view a more important aspect of the moral
life than ' seJirJ^alizaiion/ is no less one-sided. It failalQ. ex-
press ,the fact that Morality is the individual's highest good
and Jgu-therefore not altogether sacrifice : and it fails to express
the truth that the i<igaL.life does include other elemental. besides
self-sacrificing social eefviee some of them elements of high
intrinsic worth. HOW T then are we to reconcile these two prin-
ciples ? The general line of the reconciliation cannot be doubtful
if there be any truth in the conclusions which we have tried to
establish. Reason clearly pronounces that even what would other-
wise be the highest good of the individual ought to give way to the
like good of others. If so, it is clear that individual self-develop-
ment 2 ought to bow to the claims of the like self-development
in others ; and from that it follows that the individual must find
hiSLQ.\Y n highest good in the cultivation of such capacities as can
1 * The hardest choice which Christian self-denial imposes is the pre-
ference of the work apparently most socially useful to the work apparently
most conducive to the agent's own scientific and aesthetic development 1
(Sidgwick, Ethics of GWH, p. 70).
2 In future I shall use this word alone, as it seems to me to express all
that there is of real meaning in * self-realization/ while free from some of
the objections that have been urged against that term, even as expressing a
one-sided aspect of Morality.
86 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
b^ subordinated to the supreme- requiremfints^rf social WeU*being,
The kind and the limits of this self-development and the self-
sacrifice which this principle will demand of the individual will
depend on the nature of his vocation. But, in vi^w of the
prominent place which this question has assumed in recent
ethical speculation, it will be well to develope a little further
our attitude towards it. Mr. Bradley has made the alleged
inconsistency between the claims of self-development or (as
he sometimes prefers to call it) self-assertion and self-sacrifice
into a ground for preferring an accusation of hopeless and
irresolvable internal contradiction or * dualism ' in the deliver-
ances of the practical Reason. Our moral ideas are therefore
doomed to go the way of the rest of human knowledge, and
are pronounced to belong to the region of mere ' Appearance/
not of true knowledge the knowledge of ( Reality.' A brief
examination of this thesis may serve to elucidate what has
already been said on this subject.
Here are Mr. Bradley 's words:
'I am far from suggesting that in morality we are forced
throughout to make a choice between such incompatible ideals.
For this is not the case, and, if it were so, life could hardly be
lived. To a very large extent by taking no thought about his
individual perfection, and by aiming at that which seems to
promise no personal advantage, a man secures his private welfare.
We may, perhaps, even say that in the main there is no collision
between self-sacrifice and self-assertion, and that on the whole
neither of these, in the proper sense, exists for morality. But,
while admitting or asserting to the full the general identity of
these aspects, I am here insisting on the fact of their partial
divergence. And that, at least in some respects and with some
persons, these two ideals seem hostile no sane observer can deny.
1 In other words we must admit that two great divergent
forms of moral goodness exist. In order to realize the idea of
a perfect self a man may have to choose between two partially
conflicting methods. Morality, in short, may dictate either self-
sacrifice or self-assertion, and it is important to clear our ideas
as to the meaning of each. A common mistake is to identify
the first with the living for others, and the second with living
Chap, iii, iv] MR. BRADLEY'S VIEW 87
for oneself. Virtue upon this view is social, either directly or
indirectly, either visibly or invisibly. The development of the
individual, that is, unless it reacts to increase the welfare of
society, can certainly not be moral. This doctrine I am still
forced to consider as a truth which has been exaggerated and
perverted into error. There are intellectual and other accom-
plishments, to which I at least cannot refuse the title of virtue.
But I cannot assume that, without exception, these must all
somehow add to what is called social welfare; nor, again, do
I see how to make a social organism the subject which directly
possesses them. But, if so, it is impossible for me to admit that
all virtue is essentially or primarily social. On the contrary, the
neglect of social good, for the sake of pursuing other ends, may
not only be moral self-assertion, but again, equally under other
conditions, it in ay be moral self -sacrifice. We can even say that
the living " for others," rather than living " for myself," may be
immoral and selfish.'
' The ends sought by self-assertion and self-sacrifice are, each
alike, unattainable. The individual never can in himself become
an harmonious system. And in the wider ideal to which he
devotes himself, no matter how thoroughly, he never can find
complete self-realization. For, even if we take that ideal to be
perfect and to be somehow completely fulfilled, yet, after all, he
himself is not totally absorbed in it. If his discordant element
is for faith swallowed up, yet faith, no less, means that a jarring
appearance remains. And, in the complete gift and dissipation
of his personality, he, as such, must vanish ; and, with that, the
good is, as such, transcended and submerged. This result is but
the conclusion with which our chapter began. Goodness is an
appearance, it is phenomenal, and therefore self-contradictory.
And therefore, as was the case with degrees of truth and reality,
it shows two forms of one standard which will not wholly
coincide. In the end/where every discord is brought to harmony,
every idea is also realized. But there, where nothing can be
lost, everything, by addition and by rearrangement, more or
less changes its character. And most emphatically no self-
88 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
assertion nor any self-sacrifice, nor any goodness or morality, has,
as such, any reality in the Absolute. Goodness is a subordinate
and, therefore, a self -contradictory aspect of the universe V
I must not now attempt to discuss as a whole the metaphysical
position of the most brilliant and original thinker of our time.
I venture only to make a few remarks exclusively upon the
ethical side of the difficulty here presented :
(i) I trust it will not be thought in any way disrespectful
to Mr. Bradley if I say that the whole of this charge of
* inconsistency ' in the deliverances of the Practical Reason seems
to me to turn upon a confusion between the idea of good and
the idea of right. ML. Pradlfiy.!. 54 doctrine is not merely that
each of these modes of action is good, but that they are equally
virtuous and right 2 . If Practical Reason really said that two
inconsistent courses of action were both right, its * dualism '
would no doubt be hopeless enough. But there is no incon-
sistency in raying that two things are both good, though (where
you cannot have both) it is right to choose that which is best
-4fld Practical Reason, as I hold, does not pronounce that
self-development and self-sacrifice are both right in all circum-
stances. It pronounces to my mind unequivocally that it is
always right to choose that which is from the universal point
of view the greatest of goods : and, though to determine what
is the greatest of goods constitutes the gravest of practical
difficulties, Reason is not essentially incapable of this task of
distinguishing the value of goods, and so of pronouncing which
of two courses is for a given individual under given circumstances
the one and only right course of action.
Therefore, if the question be put nakedly, * Which is to give
way self-assertion to self-sacrifice or self-sacrifice to self-
assertion when there is a collision between a smaller good of
mine and a larger good of my neighbours ? ' I have no hesitation
in saying that it is I and not Society that should be sacrificed.
Or, if it be said that this is begging the question whether my
intellectual cultivation may not be sometimes the greater good
of the two, I should contend that no self -development of mine can
1 Appearance and Reality, Ed. ii, pp. 415-420.
2 Ib., p. 418.
Ohap.iii,iv] ALLEGED DUALISM IN MORALITY 89
ever be so great a good as to justify me in pursuing it to the
total neglect of all social considerations. It has, indeed, to be
admitted that men's capacities are not equal ; and that unequal
capacity <J es > in the abstract, constitute unequal value. One
person may be entitled to more consideration than another ; and
it may be urged, as a speculative possibility, that there might be
a person of such exalted capacities that his intellectual well-
being might be held to justify an exclusive devotion to his own
improvement; but then I should hold (a) that even then the
subordination of his own self-development to that of his fellows
would always be demanded in the interest of his own highest
Well-being, for the man's capacity for love and social service is
higher than any intellectual capacity however exalted; and (b) that
practically there are no such monsters of intellectual superiority.
Even if it were suggested that the majority of his countrymen
were so much inferior to him that the claim of their development
could not practically count in comparison with his own, yet there
must be at least a minority whose capacities must be such as to
enter into some sort of comparison with his own. These at
least must be considered, nor should I for one admit that any
human beings were so low in the scale of creation as to be of no
importance at all, though undoubtedly they may be of smaller im-
portance than others. Practical Reason demands some measure of
self-sacrifice of the highest towards the lowest. To hold otherwise
would be to hold that they might lawfully be treated as mere
opyava instruments of the higher culture of their betters in
other words, be made their slaves *. Possibly, some of the apostles
of self-realization might not shrink from the conclusion that
this is (in principle) the true function of ' the lower classes '
in a modern society. At all events there is a very observable
tendency for a hyper-intellectual ideal in Ethics to associate
itself with anti-popular or reactionary political views.
(2) If as a matter of fact Society were so constituted that
1 This has been practically maintained by Nietzsche, who often says
straight out what some of our English self-realizers only hint. He carries
his principle out to its logical consequence, and appears to hold that the true
ultimate end is the enslavement of the whole world to a single purely
egoistic 4 Ubermensch.' Any one who is inclined to take Nietzsche seriously
should read the scathing criticism by Hartmann in Ethische Studien, pp. 34-69.
99 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book n
the cultivation of the higher intellectual or artistic capacities
really had no tendency to promote the good of any one but the
possessor of them, the position would be an awkward one. So
far as one can answer hypothetical and abstract questions which
postulate a human nature different from any we know, I should
be prepared to say, ' In that case, to the extent of the incom-
patibility between social and private good, the higher faculties
must remain uncultivated/ On that supposition intellectual
cultivation must simply be treated as we treat those lower goods
the enjoyment of which by one is normally inconsistent with
their enjoyment by another : each must take his just share and
no more. The share may vary with the individual's capacity,
but in no case can we rationally allow one man to ba treated as
an end only, while another is treated merely as a meaua -to-his
enjoyment. Even on this supposition, there would be no formal
'dualism' in the moral judgement: the ethical problem would
still be answered. But we should in that case have to admit
that some of the highest desires and impulses of our nature
would be divided against themselves ; that some of the highest
capacities in the race (and not only in the individual) would
have to go unrealized ; that some of the highest values in human
life would be known only, from the point of view of Ethics, as
values condemned on account of their conflict with yet higher
values. But, as a matter of fact, the true Well-being of human
society does riot demand this vast sacrifice of intellectual goods.
In a number of distinct ways the highest intellectual goods do
conduce to social Well-being, and so are not incompatible with the
attainment by the individual of that other and higher good
which lies in the subordination of self to others.
It will be unnecessary to dwell at length upon the high
intellectual qualities which are cultivated and exercised by
callings useful in the most commonplace sense of the word in
political life, in administration, in literature, in Physical Science
and its more advanced applications, in the professions, in the
mere giving of amusement. But it must not be forgotten that
in our view the true good of human society does not consist
either in mere ' edification ' or in the enjoyment of material good
things. The cultivation of the intellectual and artistic faculties
Chap, iii, iv] NO REAL SELF-CONTRADICTION 91
is itself part of the social end. Consequently, the man who in
any way communicates the results of his intellectual activity to
the world is thereby performing his share .of social service, and
the subordination of his own ends to those of others involved
in such communication will effect that reconciliation between
'self-assertion 1 ' and self-sacrifice which his own moral life
demands. And fortunately things are so constituted that the
development of the intellectual and aesthetic nature in the many
to that moderate pitch which seems alone to be practicable in
their case imperatively demands a much higher cultivation of
them in the few. The pleasure and the culture which the
average man derives from an occasional visit to a picture gallery,
and from the constant contemplation of good copies or less
valuable originals on private walls, is only possible if the Artist
is allowed to devote a laborious lifetime to the study and practice
of Art. The comparatively uneducated can only find intellectual
enjoyment if there is a leisured literary class to produce books
for them to read ; and the leisured literary class that produces
the books which such men actually read, if they are good of
their kind, is one which could not itself exist unless there were
a small class in which a still higher, or at least a less popular
and more specialized, culture or learning prevailed. The teacher
must know more than those whom he teaches ; the writer must
know more of his particular subject than the average reader;
the man of letters utilizes and absorbs the labours of numerous
specialists. The maintenance, in short, of a highly cultivated
class is an absolutely essential condition of healthy cultivated
life in the nation at large. And the study of History would
further seem to suggest that the connexion between intellectual
health on the one hand and social and moral Well-being on the
other is much closer than is sometimes supposed. The attempt
to substitute an ideal of pure Morality for an ideal of wider
human good, the attempt to confine culture within the limit
wherein it directly subserves personal goodness, is always
suicidal. The 'dark age* was an age of moral anarchy and
wickedness. The moral and religious progress of the twelfth
1 Mr. Bradley more often uses the word * self-assertion * than * self-realiza-
tion,' but he does not appear to attach importance to the distinction.
92 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
and thirteenth centuries was intimately connected with a great
intellectual revival. Moral progress is largely dependent on
intellectual progress, and it is impossible to determine in advance
what kinds of intellectual advance will react on ethical ideals
and ethical practice. But nothing can be further from my
intention than to rest the defence of intellectual pursuits upon
their moral influence in the narrow sense, i. e. their tendency to
promote for Society some good other than themselves. The
different elements in human Well-being can undoubtedly exist
to some extent apart. Intellectual development is none the less
a part of the true ideal for society or individual because it is
not the whole good or the highest good of human life. The
ideal which would pronounce moral a life of absolutely self-
centred culture or study is to my mind an irrational and immoral
one 1 . But the student even of the most ' useless ' branches of
knowledge can socialize and moralize his life by communicating
his discoveries or stimulating other students, even though the
gain to the world may be a purely intellectual gain, and though
the persons capable of directly and immediately benefiting by
his work may be counted on the fingers of one hand. It is no
paradox to say that there is nothing more useful to the world
than * useless ' knowledge.
In no case, then, can it be right for a man to disregard social
Well-being. In many cases a man's social duty may consist, so
far as is compatible with the ordinary duties of the man and the
citizen (themselves involving, of course, some measure of self-
sacrifice), for the most part in the highest intellectual self-develop-
ment. Even the man of genius must renounce that exceptional
license to be immoral which the ideal of self-realization sometimes
seems disposed to concede to him. And generally of course the
communication to the world of the results of his studies on which
I have insisted will take off something from the absolutely pos-
sible maximum of intellectual development something varying
1 Here for once (which ia very rarely the case) I prefer Mr. Bradley's
earlier to his later self: 'It is quite clear that if anybody wants to realize
himself as a perfect man without trying to be a perfect member of his
country and all his smaller communities, he makes what all sane persons
would admit to be a #reat mistake ' (Ethical Studies, p. 182).
Chap, iii, iv] SOCIETY AND CULTURE 93
from an occasional week spent in the sort of literary jpomposition
or proof-reading which does not promote intellectual advance-
ment to the self-sacrifice of the man who deliberately accepts a
far lower position than he might have achieved as a scholar
or a thinker to make himself an effective teacher or the
apostle of some unpopular cause. It is unnecessary to dwell
on the compensating gain which human interest and practical
sympathies bring to the student even within the intellectual
sphere itself. It is perhaps only in the region of the most purely
physical sciences that there is no such compensation, and in
the pursuit of these sciences complete detachment from all
human interests is for the most part avoided by the enormous
possibilities of conquest over Nature which they bring to the life
of man, and by the much greater opportunities of really adding
to the intellectual wealth of the world which are in this region
open to the most commonplace student than is the case in the
'humaner' studies. The student of many other subjects may be
weighed down by the consciousness that the world really wants
no more books of the kind that he can write ; but the world can
never know too many facts of physical Science or despise the
attempts at scientific explanation which lie within the reach of
every competent investigator.
Thus, when we turn from the individual to the society, there
is no ultimate collision between intellectual self-development and
that positive moral goodness of which self-sacrifice is the negative
side. For the individual there is no doubt a collision ; but the
problem which the collision raises is one which Reason is not in-
competent to solve. Reason recognizes that the direction and the
degree of each individual's capacities must be, if he wants to be
moral, limited by the equal value of the like capacity in others.
And, that being so, it follows that the highest life for the individual
isjQflJy attainable by that subordination of self to Society which
constitutes self-sacrifice. The measure and degree of that sacri-
fice must itself be determined by the requirements of social Well -
being. Each individual must develope the capacities which will
realize on the whole the good of greatest intrinsic worth *, having
1 To avoid repetition I ignore the question of distribution of good which
has already been dealt with in Book I, chap. viii.
94 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
regard to tfce fact that social good is best realized on the whole
by some specialization of social function. If there be any truth
in the theory of Vocation, Reason is not incompetent to determine
what, under a given set of circumstances, is the vocation of the
individual. The course dictated by that principle, the particular
balance between self -development and self-assertion which in each
case social Well-being demands, is the one and only course which
for that individual is right.
So far I have felt bound to deal with Mr. Bradley's indictment
against the Practical Reason. I have tried to show that Practical
Reason is never reduced to saying, ' Two inconsistent plans of life
are good, and I cannot decide which of them is the right one for
any individual at any one time to adopt/ If that be established,
that is as far as it is necessary to carry the discussion in any
ethical interest. Into the wider metaphysical implications of the
controversy it is not necessary to go at the present moment.
I need only remark that if the ethical question is not beyond the
capacities of the Practical Reason, any metaphysical conclusions
which may be based upon the assumption of its irreconcilable
dualism must so far be unfounded. If the position which I have
taken up be accepted, the allegation of self-contradiction in the
moral consciousness can only come to this -that there are many
things which would be good if the nature of things had only not
made their enjoyment incompatible with the enjoyment of still
better things. Under these cii'cumstances the question may be
raised, 'Are they really good?' How that question may be
answered is a matter of no directly ethical importance. The
only metaphysical consequence which might result from the
admission that one good is sometimes incompatible with another
would be the admission that it is possible to conceive of a better
world than actually exists. This is a position which it is no
doubt highly unphilosophical to adopt at a period when a ' cheap
and easy optimism* is regarded in many quarters as almost
essential to the philosophical character. But it is a position
with which few will quarrel except professed Philosophers,
But, once more, any ethical difficulties that there may be about
this collision between self-realization and self-assertion are
difficulties created for Ethics by Mr, Bradley's particular system
Chap, iii, v] CRITICISM OF PROFESSOR TAYLOR 95
of Metaphysic not difficulties created for Metaphysp by Ethics.
From the ethical point of view there is no difficulty about the
admission that goods are sometimes inconsistent with one
another. So long as it is admitted that it is possible to choose
the greatest good, and that such a choice and this only is
always right, there is no latent contradiction in our ethical
judgements : and, if that be admitted, one at least of the counts
in Mr. Bradley 's indictment against Reason is pronounced bad.
V
Since the greater part of this chapter was written Mr. Bradley 5 s
thesis has received an elaborate development at the hands of
Professor A. E. Taylor. My reply to Professor Taylor's argument
is substantially the same as that which I should make to
Mr. Bradley, with this addition, that in Professor Taylor's case
it is much more easy than in Mr. Bradley 's to reply to him out
of his own mouth. Mr. Bradley evidently does believe in the
* duality ' or internal contradiction of the Practical Reason, and
he docs not believe in either of his fundamentally opposed ethical
creeds overmuch. I do not mean, of course, that he is practi-
cally indifferent to ordinary moral interests, but he is not one of
those thinkers in whose speculative outlook confidence in the
dictates of the Practical Reason occupies a paramount position.
In Professor Taylor, however, the divorce between the man and
the philosopher is carried much further than with Mr. Bradley.
Professor Taylor as a man is evidently inclined to an enthusiastic
belief in the Practical Reason. So long as he confines himself
to the ethical point of view, he demonstrates with admirable
effect the unreality of the alleged ethical antinomy. He shows
nobody more conclusively that neither the ideal of self-realiza-
tion nor the ideal of absolute and exclusive self-sacrifice is
Morality as we know it. He is never tired of exhibiting
the fact that each of these ideals pushed to its logical extreme
would land us in what every unsophisticated Conscience
would pronounce to be hopelessly and irredeemably irrational
and immoral. The true moral ideal includes both elements:
a truly moral man will choose now one, now the other, whenever
96 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
(which, af ttr all, is the exception rather than the rule) * there is
a real necessity of choosing before them. If Professor Taylor has
not done much to analyse the principles upon which the moral
consciousness chooses between the two, he constantly assumes that
it is possible to choose, and that there is a right and a wrong
answer to the question. Some of the alleged contradictions find
admirable solutions in Professor Taylor's own pages. It is only
in exceptional cases that he even alleges that there is any real
difficulty in making a right choice; and the existence of such
difficult cases is no argument against the inherent capacity of
the moral consciousness or the validity of its decisions, any
more than the difficulty of discovering the laws of Nature, or
the existence of different opinions on historical problems, is an
argument against the validity of physical law or the existence
of objective historical truth. Sometimes, indeed, it seems difficult
to acquit Professor Taylor of failing to see (or perhaps of finding
it convenient to ignore) the difference between the claim of
validity for the moral judgement as such and the claim for
personal infallibility or omniscience on the part of the individual
Conscience. At all events it is only on the basis of such a con-
fusion that the existence of difficult questions of Casuistry on
which no wise or charitable man will care to pronounce with
much confidence still less to judge severely those who pronounce
otherwise can be regarded as the smallest argument for an
inherent and irremovable internal contradiction in the moral
consciousness itself.
VI
There is one other view connected with the collision between
self-development and self-sacrifice about which I should like to
add a word. It is sometimes assumed as a sort of postulate that
the good must be good not only for one but for all that there
can be no real discord between my good and another's. We
have already adopted many positions which preclude us from
1 ' There is probably no single virtue of all those recognised by popular
nomenclature which can be satisfactorily accounted for by either the require-
ments of full self-development or of social justice considered by themselves '
(The Problem of Conduct, p. 218).
Chap, iii, vi] INCOMPATIBLE GOODS 97
sharing that assumption. It is one which is hardly intelligible
except upon the assumption that the good, wilHr the -only*trne
good. If things like Elfiafii?rp *md-CWfrirft araadmitt&d to. be good,
the assertion that one man's pleasure or culture cannot be incon-
sistent with another's is clearly opposed to experience. To say
that, when the enjoyment of such things by the individual is in-
consistent with the good of another, it is not really good for the
former, implies that confusion between the idea of good and the
idea of right which lies at the root of so much chaos in more than
one system of Moral Philosophy. If the distinction between good
and right is to be kept up, it is clear that it is often right for the
individual to make a sacrifice which is not for his good in all
respects. Inasmuch as the doing right is for him the highest good,
he does promote his own highest good by the sacrifice : but to say
that it is not a sacrifice of good is to deny that the conception of
good is logically prior to that of right. I fail to see how any clear
ethical thinking is possible except upon the assumption that many
things are good which nevertheless the actual conditions of life
prevent our attaining, and that therefore the only possible object of
moral effort is to attain the greatest possible good not all conceiv-
able good. It may no doubt for some extra-ethical reason be held
that there is a sense in which, when the right course has been
chosen, we must assume not merely that the adoption of that
course is the greatest good attainable by the individual in the
given circumstances, but that all its consequences and concomi-
tants as well those in spite of which it is chosen as those
for which it is chosen are wholly good, and involve no evil at
all to any one. But that is a metaphysical theory with which
we are not now concerned : and it is so far from being a ne-
cessary postulate for Ethics that it may rather be pronounced
to be unethical or anti-ethical. There are many bad things in
the world besides bad voluntary actions; some of the conse-
quences of the best actions are consequences which our judge-
ments of value undoubtedly pronounce to be bad. If any one
pronounces that they arc nevertheless very good, that is an
assertion which cannot be made on ethical grounds ; it must
bo maintained on the basis of some Metaphysic (like that of
Mr. Bradley) which denies the ultimate validity of our moral
1U8HOALL II
98 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
judgements, not from the point of view of those who believe in
the validity of our practical judgements. To this subject I hope to
return in the chapter on * Metaphysic and Morals/ Meanwhile,
a word must be said about a form of this denial of* all collision
between my good and another which does rest apparently upon
purely ethical grounds 1 .
The assumption that what is good for one man must be good
for all has found its most explicit expression in that theory of
the 'common good' which plays so large a part in the ethical
teaching of Green and his followers. The phrase 'common
good ' is so loosely used by Green himself that it is sometimes
doubtful whether to him it always meant anything more
than ' the general good 2 ' ; but, in other passages and still
more as used by the disciples who have turned Green's vague
but stimulating Mysticism into hard arid rigid dogmas, it is
quite clear that the idea of the common good means some-
thing which is equally my good and that of every one else.
Nothing, it is assumed, can be moral which produces any evil
1 To meet an objection which would, I think, here be irrelevant, I may
say that I fully recognize that in strictness nothing can be good for one
person which is not a good absolutely, since the term could always imply
objectivity ; but, since nothing can (as it seems to me) be good but a state
of some consciousness, I think it would be pedantic to object to calling
a good state of a certain person's consciousness ' his good ' or a ' good for him,'
even where that good involves a greater evil in some other consciousness.
2 Sidgwick points out how far Green is from consistently maintaining
this idea of a 'common good. 1 After quoting Green's account of the just
man as one who ' will not promote his own wellbeing or that of one whom
he loves and likes ... at the cost of impeding in any way the wellbeing of
one who is nothing to him but a man, or whom he involuntarily dislikes, 1 he
remarks, * How, after writing this description of an ideally just man, Green
could possibly go on to say ( 232), that "the distinction of good for self
and good for others has never entered into that idea of a true good on
which moral judgments are founded," I cannot imagine ' (Ethics of Green,
p. 67). If Green were prepared to stick to the position that there is no
good but a good will, the contention that one man's good can never be in-
compatible with that of another might be plausibly (only plausibly) made,
but the extravagance of the position becomes glaring when (as he often
does) Green includes Art and Science in his conception of the end in spite
of his declaration that * the only good which is really common to all who
may pursue it, is that which consists in the universal will to be good*
(PwUgomena, 244).
Chap, iii, vi] HIGHER GOODS LESS EXCLUSIVE 99
at all for any living soul 1 . Now I readily admit and of
course from a practical point of view it is most important to
insist that it is a characteristic of the higher goods that they
are capable of being enjoyed by a larger number of persons
than the lower. In promoting knowledge I am not promoting
something which is necessarily my gain and another's loss.
I am exercising my faculties, attaining my good, getting my
enjoyment (or, as our friends will have it, * realizing' my
higher self) by the very same acts which are also adding to
the common intellectual wealth of the world. Knowledge is
not a thing which, like champagne or plum-pudding, becomes
less by being shared. My enjoyment of Shakespeare does not
diminish the amount of Shakespeare which there is to be en-
joyed by others : rather it has a tendency, so far as my
conduct has any effect on others, to stimulate, encourage, and
facilitate in them the reading and appreciation of Shakespeare.
No less clearly is that the case with a charitable action which
' blesses him who gives and him who takes.' This very simple
fact is, I take it, the real basis of the assumption that what
is good for me to do cannot be bad for another. But I would
observe that this is not universally the case even with the higher
goods. A picture can, it is true, be looked at by several people at
the same time, and by several hundred people one after the other,
in the course of a day. Practically, a Londoner can get a sight of
any particular picture in the National Gallery as often as he
wants to see it. But, if the passion for Art were equally dis-
tributed throughout the inhabitants of the Metropolis, if every
Londoner wanted to refresh his soul by gazing on a particular
Turner once a week, the crowding around that picture would
become highly inconvenient : the enjoyment of this privilege by
one certainly would be incompatible with its equal enjoyment
1 The assumption reminds me of the much-ridiculed doctrine of Mr. Herbert
Spencer that ' conduct which has any concomitant of pain, or any painful
consequence, is partially wrong ' (Data of Ethics, p. 261). The extrava-
gance is not really diminished when a similar assertion is made by those who
exclude pleasure from their idea of good. Many right acts the preaching
of really good sermons, for instance often do some moral harm to persons
to whom they do not happen to appeal.
H 2
ioo SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
by others. Even as matters actually stand, it is not the case that
the accumulation of pictures in Trafalgar Square is a ' common
good ' to the world in general. What is London's gain is cer-
tainly Italy's loss, and cannot, except in a very restricted sense,
be set down as Cornwall's gain. Still more easy is it to show
that the enjoyment of higher goods by one involves a loss of
lower goods by others. The Artists and the Connoisseurs eat
and drink a good deal, and the necessity of supporting them adds
to the toil and diminishes the profits or enjoyments of many
thousand working men. Doubtless the encouragement of Art
is good on the whole for the world, but it is not all gain. More-
over, it is important to remark that even in the typical case of
the charitable act which ' blesses him who gives and him who
takes,' the good of him who gives is not the same as that of him
who takes. The good Samaritan gets exercise for his Benevo-
lence, the man fallen among thieves gets the healing of wounds*
The Surgeon exercises his intellectual faculties and professional
skill ; his patients benefit by that skill, but what they get is
quite another good from his. This seems to make the term
* common good ' unsuitable. The end of Morality is a just dis-
tribution of goods, not the simultaneous enjoyment by all of one
and the same good.
In the case of those lower goods which nevertheless we have
agreed to call good, it is clear that the enjoyment of a good by one
is, not exceptionally but normally, incompatible with its enjoy-
ment by another. Two men cannot eat the same cake. We all
live at the expense of some one else's labour. No doubt it is
true that if we look at the whole effect upon Society at the
whole social system or reciprocal exchange of services which
Morality enjoins we may say that when two men treat each
other justly, the one gains as much in one way as he loses
in another. The ideal of human society is precisely a state of
things in which each contributes to the good of Society in one
way as much as he gets from Society in another, and so
constitutes that * kingdom of ends ' in which we have already
discovered the sanest and most workable of the Kantian for-
mulae. And it is naturally an element of this ideal that, as
far as possible, each should find his own pleasure in something
Chap, iii, vi] THE COMMON GOOD 101
which is as good for others as for himself. But this is only an
ideal, and the conditions of human life permit but a distant
approximation to it. The harmonizing of one man's interest
with that qf another must to a very great extent be effected
simply by the choice of the least evil an evil which really is
evil to some, though good for the whole.
I am not quite clear, however, whether in these somewhat
obvious reflections I am not really expressing what is meant by
many of those who profess the philosophy of the ' common
good/ If I am doing so, I can only submit that the phrase
' common good ' is badly chosen to express their meaning ; and
as used by some it certainly suggests the ideas which I have com-
bated. The doctrine of the ' common good/ strictly interpreted,
really implies Green's doctrine that nothing but the good will is
good at all (for only so can it soberly be asserted that goods
never collide with one another) a doctrine in which many of
those who inherit his phraseology decline to follow him. And
the position of Green on this matter is really open to the very
objection which he himself urged with so much force against
Kant the objection that it leaves the good will without content,
This position is merely disguised by talking about ' character '
or * perfection ' as the end instead of ' the good will.' If nothing
but the good will is good, there is no reason why one act of will
should be considered as better than another. And the good will
is the only good of one man which can never be actually incon-
sistent with the like good in another ; though after all it may be
doubted whether one man's good will is actually in itself the
good of another, and it is quite easy to imagine cases in which
one man's moral good could only be promoted by the neglect ol
another's.
In some of the writers with whom the ' common good ' theory
is popular, it is connected with a further metaphysical theory
the theory that not only the good but the self which is to be
realized is a common self common to each individual and to l the
Absolute ' so that in promoting his own true good the individual
is necessarily promoting the good of every other individual.
And it is further suggested at times that it is only upon this
assumption that there can be any logical basis for obedience to
102 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
the moral law. Altruism can only be justified by showing that
it is really Egoism l .
I have already touched on the metaphysical aspect of the
theory, and shall return to it hereafter. But even t if there be
a sense in which we may treat individual men and women as
being 'manifestations' or * appearances ' of an all-embracing
Absolute, Ethics surely has to do with the ' manifestations ' or
' appearances/ and not with the Unity. Ethics is concerned with
the relations of these apparently different and mutually exclusive
'appearances': and it is impossible to give any meaning to the
simplest ethical conceptions except upon the assumption that
I and my neighbour are (for ethical purposes) different persons,
and that my good is distinguishable from his good. I am told
to promote my neighbour's good because, since I and my neigh-
bour are really the same being, his good is really my good. But
I may quite reasonably reply that upon that supposition I have
only to promote my own good, and need not trouble about my
neighbour's, for in promoting my own good I must necessarily
be promoting his also. The theory can be used as a defence of
Egoism quite as reasonably as against it. Nor does the con-
sideration that I and my neighbour equally derive our being
from the same Absolute seem to me to constitute any ground or
basis for moral obligation which would not exist apart from that
supposition. If all that is meant by the theory is that when the
1 I have noticed above Mr. Bradley's use of this doctrine (Vol. I, p. 67), but
the most explicit formulation of the assumption which I have met with is to be
found in Bishop d 1 Arcy's Short Study of Ethics (pp. 102, 120 et passim). 'Why,*
he says (p. 143), ' should a man sacrifice his desires for the sake of a common
good ? The religious view of morality answers the question at once : Be-
cause all are one in God, and the common good is the true good of every
individual.' I should not deny the truth of the last proposition in a
certain sense, because my moral consciousness does judge that action for
the general good possesses value, but if my moral consciousness did not
so judge, Bishop d'Arcy's Metaphysic certainly would not convince me of
the duty. Would the Bishop (with Schopenhauer) hold that I must also im-
pute to myself (and to the Absolute) my neighbour's sins ? The last con-
tention would seem to be quite as reasonable as the former. Dr. d'Arcy,
being a Bishop, shrinks from pronouncing the absolute identity of every
individual (good or bad) with his neighbour and with God (and uses the
vague phrase 'one in God'), but his Logic requires the omission of the
1 one in. f
Chap, iii, vii] DISTINCTION OF SELVES 103
idea of objectivity inherent in the very nature of all moral
obligation is thought out to its logical consequences, it implies
Theism, that is a doctrine with which I fully sympathize, and
on which I hope hereafter to insist. But the idea of moral
obligation is no deduction from the idea of God, whether con-
ceived of in a purely theistic or in a more or less pantheistic
sense. Rather it is one of those immediate data of consciousness
from which the idea of God may be inferred. If the notion of
obligation or intrinsic validity or objectivity were not inherent
in the immediate affirmation of the moral consciousness, no
demonstration of the metaphysical unity of God and man or self
and neighbour could possibly put it there. If the practical
Reason did not recognize an intrinsic value in my neighbour's
personality, no demonstration as to the common metaphysical
origin and the actual identity of the two selves could possibly
convince me of such value. Ethical truths may, and, I believe,
do, contain metaphysical implications ; but no ethical truth can
possibly be deduced from or proved by any metaphysical con-
siderations which are not ethical. Ethical truth can rest upon
nothing whatever but the actual deliverances of the moral con-
sciousness. And the moral consciousness certainly knows nothing
of any metaphysical identity between myself and my neighbour.
On the contrary it assumes that we are two and not one. If in
any sense it is to be shown that we are one, that is a position
which must be established on grounds independent of Ethics.
VII
There is another conception of the ethical end which has
many analogies with the ideal of 'self-realization/ Professor
Simmel, the most brilliant of recent ethical writers, has attempted
to find an ethical criterion in the idea of a ' maximum of Energy '
(Thdtigkeit) 1 . It is not merely pleasure which gives life ita
value; a life in which there is much pain and much pleasure
would be positively better than one in which there is only
1 Einhitung, I, p. 371 sq. He wholly fails to show that in any natural sense
there is a greater * Quantum von Zwecksetzung ' (II, p. 359), or a ' Willens
maximum ' in good rather than in bad conduct.
104 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
pleasure. The most desirable kind of life is one in which there
are many ups and downs, plenty of excitement, many a ' crowded
hour of glorious life/ a maximum ' swing ' or oscillation between
the heights of exaltation and the depths of depression l . Now
in some ways it may be freely admitted that Simmel's ideal is
a great improvement upon the ideal of ' self-realization/ His
formula is far less of a mere form ; it is to some extent a concrete
ideal. And it emphasizes many points which we may recognize
as important aspects of a high ethical ideal. Unlike the ' self-
realization ' ideal, it is riot purely self-regarding : it is not only
for himself that the good man will promote a 'maximum of
activity/ but also for others ; and there is no confusion between
one's own good and that of otEers. Simmers ideal man will
promoteTTKeEin3 of life that has most value on the whole,
though in particular cases he may judge that an exciting career
for himself is really so good a thing that he may sacrifice to it
large masses (as it were) of inferior life. Moreover, the doctrine
exhibits impressively some of the differences which would exist
in detail between a hedonistic standard of Ethics resolutely
applied and one which recognizes other elements of value in
human life besides pleasure. As against the ideal of ' harmonious
development/ it insists that what is best in human life as we
know it is often a state of violent internal discord, of struggle
and unquiet, rather than of smug and contented spiritual self-
complacency. And again it is valuable as a reminder that we
cannotjinj/^^ maintain a sharp and rigid dis-
tinction between ends andjrneans ; the means are part of the end.
AlPethical thought becomes, indeed, impossible, unless we do
recognize a distinction between ends and means: it is because
the end has value that the means to it are justified. But
Moralists who have thoroughly grasped this doctrine are beset
by the temptation to suppose that the character of the means is
unimportant, and may be ignored in estimating the lightness or
wrongness of the act. All human activity does, indeed, consist
in the pursuit of ends, but the end is often in itself far less
valuable than the pursuit. Human life consists chiefly in the
1 ' , . . die Schwingungsweite zwischon der Lust und dem Schmerz eines
Lebens der GrOsse seiner Thfttigkeit proportional ist.' Einleitung, I, p. 388.
Chap, iii, vii] SIMMEL'S ETHICAL END 105
doing of things which are means to ends: the end must have
value, but whether it is worth pursuing or not must depend
very often upon the character of the activities which will lead
to that end. From one point of view such activities must be
looked upon as means ; from another they are part of the end.
That is obviously the case even from the hedonistic point of
view, as is seen most conspicuously in the case of games. ' Sport'
has been well defined as the overcoming of difficulties simply for
the sake of overcoming them : and from a non-hedonistic point
of view it must be still more emphatically recognized that the
activity which is involved in the pursuit of an end is often
something much higher and more valuable than the end that it
attains, as that end would be apart from the activity. Man does
not live by bread alone. His energies are largely absorbed in
the pursuit of bread, but the bread-winning is often a higher
and nobler thing than the bread. The true good of human life
(as we know it) does not consist in the pursuit of some end
which we first pursue and then enjoy at leisure, but in activities
which are constantly seeking to satisfy needs which, even if
satisfied, are only supplanted by fresh needs. Both the enjoy-
ment and the nobleness of life often lie in the pursuit. When
people have no unsatisfied needs, they can only give a value to
life by more or less successful efforts to invent new ones.
Simmers theory brings out, too, the fact that in detail the
duty of one man even, it may be said, the concrete ideal which
it is right for one man to pursue is not the same as that
of another. It insists on the need for varieties of individual
development and practical activity. All these elements of truth
we may freely recognize in SimmeFs formula, but when it is put
forward as an exclusive and adequate ideal, it is too hopelessly
vague to be worth serious examination. How can ' amount of
activity ' be measured ? I can, indeed, compare the value of the
very dissimilar activities ; I can even by a considerable effort of
abstraction estimate the amount of pleasure which there is in
each. But how am I to say whether there is a greater quantity
of activity in the most exciting kind of historical research or in
a steeplechase, in Philosophy or in football? So far as quan-
tities of activity can be estimated, no one probably ever crowded
io6 SELF-REALIZATION AND SELF-SACRIFICE [Book II
more of it into his own life or caused more of it in others than
Napoleon Buonaparte, but no one who attaches any meaning to
the idea of Morality can well recognize in Napoleon his
highest ethical ideal. Simmel's doctrine is one of those which
spring from the desire to invent new theses, without which it is
impossible to write sensational works on Moral Philosophy.
The airing of new ideas is often, no doubt, more exciting, more
full of activity (of Thatigkeit) than the elucidation, correction,
and harmonization of older and truer ones. Acts can only be con-
sidered right or wrong relatively to some end other than the acts
themselves, however true it may be that the will which wills that
good is a greater good than the good which it wills. Neither
'duty for duty's sake' nor 'activity for activity's sake' is a
rational ethical watchword, unless each is supplemented by the
doctrine that the end which duty aims at promoting must be
a good one, and that the ' activity ' which is a good must be
either part of the end which we pronounce good or a means to
it. Such formulae as ' activity for the sake of activity ' or ' self-
realization ' spring from an unwillingness to admit the simple,
ultimate, and unanalysable character of the idea of good, without
the admission of which there can be no such thing as Morality.
The contents of our moral consciousness cannot be translated or
paraphrased into any language which does not contain the word
1 good ' or its synonym.
Both the difficulties which have been raised as a ground for
accusing Morality of internal contradiction, and some of those
which lie at the root of Simmel's exaggerated theory of maximum
activity, are, we have seen reason to believe, met by the due
recognition of the fact that though duty is incumbent upon
every one, though the good of society is the end for all, that
good demands and includes a great variety of individual goods,
and that not all these goods can either be promoted or enjoyed
within the compass of a single life. This represents a side of
ethical truth which is generally expressed by the doctrine that
different men have different vocations a doctrine which will be
further examined and developed in the next chapter.
CHAPTER IV
VOCATION
I HAVE tried to establish the position that acts are virtuous
in so far as they tend to promote and to distribute justly
a Well-being which consists in various elements possessing
very different degrees of intrinsic value. The ideal life would
be a life into which the different elements of 'good' should
enter in the degree appropriate to their intrinsic worth; in
which, roughly speaking, intellectual should be subordinated to
moral well-being, while lower desires are indulged in such a way
and to such an extent as are most conducive to the due predomi-
nance of the higher ; or, more simply, in which every desire,
every element in consciousness is accorded the place which is
due to its own intrinsic worth. It might seem to follow that
the ideal of Morality in its narrower sense, the ideal aim of the
virtuous will, must be to realize these various * goods ' in propor-
tion to their relative importance for each and every human
being. But such an account of human duty takes no account of
the fact that for Society in general the highest amount of good
cannot be realized by each individual endeavouring to secure for
himself and to promote for every other all sorts of good. In no
one life is the gratification, in any high degree, of all even
among the better desires possible; while the very attempt to
gratify all equally makes impossible the attainment of any one
of the best kinds of life. And, again, from the point of view of
Society, a certain specialization of function, or what, looked at
from the economic point of view, is known as division of labour,
is equally imperative. Not only is it practically impossible for
the same individual in every case to devote his time and energy
to the promotion of highest . and higher and lowest goods in
io8 VOCATION [Book II
the proportion of their intrinsic worth, but even among goods of
the particular rank which it is his social function to promote, he
must devote himself to the promotion of some one particular
good, if a maximum return, so to speak, is to be, produced.
The labourer must devote the bulk of his time not merely to
producing food but to producing a particular kind of food.
And the conditions of human life are, unfortunately, such that
a very much larger proportion of the energies of most men
have to be devoted to producing the lower kind of goods than
to the production of the higher.
Moreover, this specialization of the good-producing energies
of each individual carries with it a further specialization of the
good which he must himself enjoy. For, though the abstraction
is useful and legitimate for some purposes, we cannot treat the
production of good as though it were really a totally distinct
thing from the enjoyment of good ; as though a man simply
produced by his social activity one sort of good, while the good
that he himself enjoys is something wholly distinct and separable
from it, something produced by other people for him, and given
to him in exchange for his services by the other members of his
society, just as the wages received by a husbandman are some-
thing quite distinct from the corn which he produces. We
have seen that a large part of the good which can be enjoyed in
human life consists precisely in these socially directed activities.
Both moral and intellectual goods are attained by contributing
in some special way to the good of Society. And, consequently, if
a man concentrates his energies on the production of some one
kind of good, that will largely determine the nature of the good
which he will enjoy, when good life comes to be looked at as the
individual's share in a social Well-being. The nature of his
contribution to social good must largely determine, so to speak,
the nature of his dividend. If a man's social function is to
plough the fields, that energy of ploughing will not be so much
energy taken off from the production of higher good and con-
centrated on the production of lower, but it will determine to a
large extent the nature of the Well-being that will fall to his
share ; for it is in and through this social function of ploughing
that he will attain that highest good which consists in the
Chap, iv, i] DUTIES RELATIVE TO VOCATION 109
direction of his will towards good, or, more simply, in the
performance of his duty. And, though in the particular case of
ploughing, the limitations which it sets to intellectual activity
are more conspicuous than the scope which it affords, it is none
the less true that even mechanical occupations involve some
intellectual activity. The ploughman, even when ploughing, is
at least doing something that cannot be done by a beast. He
will attain his highest good in ministering to the bodily wants
of others; while, though it is obviously desirable that the
ploughman should enjoy some of those higher goods of life
which have no special relation to his function, the kind and
amount of other goods higher and lower alike which will
fall to his lot must be largely such as are incidental to or com-
patible with the occupation of- ploughing. As compared with
the town workman in a factory for instance, the country
labourer enjoys a more varied and interesting occupation, an
occupation which brings with it a greater variety of mental
activities and a greater development of individual initiative,
the pleasures and the health that come from life in the open air,
the use of a less crowded house and a garden of his own; he
cannot enjoy the social and political life, the social interests
(outside his work) and the exciting amusements which partially
atone to the townsman for the squalor and discomfort of his
surroundings. Of course some of these limitations in either case
are due to defective and improvable social arrangements ; but it
is clear that in any society different individuals must enjoy, as
they promote, different kinds of good. Hence a large part of
human duty consists in acts which are not the duty of all men.
A large part of human duty consists in the duties of one's
* Vocation/
It is not only in the discharge of his formal social function, the
function which constitutes (as we say) his business or profession
or ' state of life/ that there must be some specialization. Even in
the kinds of good that it is not the business of any recognized
profession to promote, it is clearly desirable and necessary that
different men should contribute to social good in different ways.
In philanthropy, in social service, in the choice between different
modes of life, there is room for different vocations. An exhaustive
i io VOCATION [Book II
treatise on Casuistry would have to deal not merely with the
duties of different vocations, but also with the question, on what
principles a man should determine what is his social function,
whether in the way of formal or official calling, or in the
direction of his own voluntary energies within the limits
allowed by universally binding moral obligations and by those
which are incident to his profession or occupation. Moreover,
in resolving duty into an obligation to contribute to general
Well-being, it is not merely the kind but the amount of such
contribution that is undetermined. Here there is another group
of questions upon which Moral Philosophy ought to have some-
thing to say, if it is to aim at a complete analysis of the contents
of the moral consciousness. It must give some answer to the
question, ' What are to be the limits of the individual's self-
sacrifice ? ' And if there are limits which a man is not bound
to pass, the question may further be raised whether he is at
liberty, if he pleases, to do more ? If not, must we admit that
it is possible for a man to do more than his duty ? Can there
be works of Supererogation ?
II
There is yet another reason for devoting some special con-
sideration to this question of Vocation. In the question ( How
am I to know and recognize my Vocation ? ' we have a peculiarly
good illustration of the inadequacy of Intuitionism in any of its
various forms to formulate the procedure by which reasonable
men really do determine, and feel that they ought to determine,
their duty under particular circumstances. This difficulty is well
illustrated by the treatment of the subject by James Martineau,
a writer whose Intuitionism takes the form of a theory that a
man's duty is always that course of action to which he is
prompted by the highest motive, a motive which is recognized
as such by the immediate affirmation of Conscience. Let us see
how such a test would work as applied to this very important
duty that of choosing one's Vocation rightly.
Martineau's ethical criterion is thus formulated: * Every
action is RIGHT which, in presence of a lower principle, follows a
higher : every action is WRONG which, in presence of a higher
Chap, iv, ii] THEORY OF MARTINEAU in
principle, follows a lower V The moral order of precedence
among the possible principles or 'springs' of action is elabo-
rately determined by that writer, while immediately after the
table in which he sums up the results of this enquiry there
follows a section on the question, ' How far a Life must be
chosen among these/ Martineau here distinctly faces the
objection that it rests in great measure on our own action which
motives shall be presented to the mind and which shall not.
Unless the higher motive be actually present to the mind, the
action motived by the lower ' spring ' cannot, according to him,
be wrong. ' Ought we to content ourselves/ he asks, ' with
treating the springs of action as our data, with which we have
nothing to do but to wait till they are flung upon us by circum-
stance, and then to follow the best that turns up ? ' 2 The
objection could not be more aptly stated. Martineau meets it
by admitting that ' if there be at the command of our will, not
only the selection of the better side of an alternative, but also a
predetermination of what kind the alternative shall be, the
range of our duty will undoubtedly be extended to the creation
of a higher plane of circumstance, in addition to the higher
preference within it/ But on what principle is a man to make
his choice between the higher and the lower ' plane of circum-
stance ' ? How is he to recognize the higher plane ? From
Martineau's fundamental principle it would seem to follow that
a man is always bound to choose that ' plane of circumstance '
on which he will be likely to find the higher motives streaming
into his consciousness in the richest abundance and with the
greatest force. Martineau himself raises the question : * If com-
passion is always of higher obligation than the loce of gain or
family affection, how can a man ever be justified in quitting his
charities for his business or his home ? ' But to this question he
has supplied no adequate answer. The only way in which he
strives to beat down the difficulty which he has himself so
forcibly raised is by the contention that ' the limits . . . within
which the higher moral altitudes can be secured by voluntary
command of favouring circumstances are extremely narrow/
1 Types of Ethical Theory, 3rd ed., II, p. 270.
2 Ib., p. 267,
H2 VOCATION [Book II
This view he supports by insisting upon the undoubted fact that
a man cannot entirely alter his nature by artificial change of
environment, upon the moral advantage of the ' various clashing
of the involuntary and the voluntary/ upon the moral ill effects
of setting aside ' relations human and divine ' by the choice of
an apparently higher walk of life. Now, in the first place, I
remark that, in so far as a man deliberately turns a deaf ear to
the solicitation of a higher motive from regard to the considera-
tions insisted upon by Martineau, he is deserting the fundamental
principle of the system. In urging a man to repress his benevo-
lent aspirations for fear of the moral effects (social and personal)
of the neglect of family relations and the like, Martineau is
distinctly transferring the object of moral discrimination from
the motives to the consequences of the alternative courses of
action. He is deserting the Highest-motive criterion for the
principle (to use terms invented by Sidgwick) of individualistic
or of universaliatic Perfectionism, He bids the seeker after
moral truth in certain particular cases act upon the lower
in preference to the higher motive ; l and yet no adequate rules
are given for the discrimination of these exceptional cases. If
in one particular instance a man is permitted to disobey
Martineau's fundamental canon from fear of the moral ill
consequences which might subsequently ensue, how can he obey
it in any case in which he foreseen that the net moral results of
acting on the higher motive will be less satisfactory than those
which result from choosing the lower motive ? The method of
Ethics to which such a principle would lead would be a very
different one from the method of introspection into motives.
But we must return to Martineau's contention ' that the limits
within which the higher moral altitudes can be secured by a
voluntary command of favouring circumstances are extremely
narrow ' Here I venture very decidedly to join issue. It is
all very well to point to the moral failure of monastic systems,
and the danger of neglecting natural ' relations, human and
1 Types, II, p. 270. It might, indeed, be pleaded that the desire of doing
right as such is higher than the benevolent desire ; but Martineau does not
admit the existence of a desire to do the light thing in general, as distinct
from an impulse to satisfy some particular good desire.
Chap, iv, ii] CHOICE OF PROFESSION 113
divine '. But what relations does Martineau mean 1 It may be
true that a man cannot desert ' his business or his home for his
charities ' without neglecting ' relations human and divine/
when once he has got a business or a home. But it rested with
himself to create or not to create the business or the home in
the first instance. And on what principles is he to decide
whether to create them or not ? Practically, Martineau's advice
to any one in doubt as to the choice of an employment or
profession seems to be, ' Don't choose one at all/ ' Let him
accept his lot/ he tells us, ' and work its resources with willing
conscience, and he will emerge with no half-formed and crippled
character V This might be good advice to one born heir to an
estate or a great business; it would be intelligible advice
though there are cases in which its morality would be question-
able to a son brought up by an arbitrary father for a particular
profession ; but to the man who is really free to choose between
half a dozen different ' lots/ and in anxious doubt which of them
to adopt, the precept ' Accept your lot ' will seem but a mocking
echo of the problem that distracts him. If 'one's lot' means
one's actual profession, the advice is meaningless to the boy or
the man who has not entered upon any ; if ' one's lot ' means the
lot to which one is called, the precise difficulty lies in knowing
what that lot is. The maxim ' Perform the duties of your
vocation ' is of no use to a man grappling with the tremendous
problem to many a man the most difficult practical problem
which he ever has to face of finding out what his true voca-
tion is.
The duty of choosing a profession has been well called I
think by Sir John Seeley the most important of all duties, and
the same writer very reasonably complains of the almost total
neglect of this department of Ethics by Moralists. And the
neglect is not the least conspicuous in the writers who most
tend to limit the whole duty of man to the ' duties of one's
station.' ' My Station and its Duties ' is the title of the only
chapter of Ethical Studies in which Mr. Bradley faces the
question of the moral criterion. ' My station and duties ' is
the formula by which he seeks to answer that question ; and yet
1 Types, II, p. 270.
RA8BDALL II I
i J4 VOCATION [Book II
in the whole chapter there is not a word as to the principles
upon which a man's station must be chosen except what is
contained in the lines :
One place performs like any other place
The proper service every place on earth
Was framed to furnish man with 1 .
It should be observed that this question of choosing a pro-
fession is precisely one to which the ordinary objections to the
systematic treatment of questions of Casuistry do not apply at
all. Against such a treatment it may plausibly be urged in
ordinary cases that the decision, when the difficulty actually
arises, has to be taken without prolonged and self-conscious
deliberation ; that to deliberate in the face of an apparent duty
generally means to seek an excuse for evading it ; that there is
something morally unwholesome in elaborate introspection and
self-analysis, and still more in the anticipation of abnormal moral
perplexities, or even in dwelling upon them when they arise ;
and, finally, that the details of Morality as opposed to its general
principles do not admit of scientific adjustment : * the particulars
are matters of immediate perception,' as Aristotle puts it 2 . But
the choice of a profession is precisely a question which from the
nature of the case mutt be deliberated on, and about which, in
numerous instances, conscientious men do deliberate long and
anxiously. Here, if anywhere, it would appear reasonable to
expect that a system of Moral Philosophy might have some
guidance to offer to anxious seekers after Right. Even if the
scientific discussion of such a subject were of little direct use to
the doubting Conscience of the individual (as no doubt must
generally be the case with theoretical determinations of practical
questions), it might at least be expected to be of some value in
determining the advice which should be given to others upon
a subject upon which more than on any other moral question
men are wont at times to seek for counsel and advice. The
Moral Philosopher as such is no more capable of answering such
a question than any one else ; but he ought surely to be able to
point out the considerations upon which its solution turns, and
so to state the question in a manner in which it admits of an
1 Ethical Studies, p. 183. 2 aifftirjra yap ra Kaff f*aora.
Chap, iv, ii] THE HIGHEST MOTIVE TEST 115
answer. I need hardly say that in the present chapter I make
no pretension to contribute to the discussion of the subject any-
thing which would be likely to be of much value either to
enquirer QJ: adviser in such cases. I merely wish to point out
that the question of choosing a profession is a peculiarly good
test of any philosophical criterion of Morality, and to show that
Martineau's criterion is one which could not practically be
applied to its determination, or at least that the results of its
adoption would be such as would not commend themselves
to the practical moral judgement of thoughtful and reasonable
men.
It will be well perhaps, at this stage of my argument, to call
attention to the psychological grounds upon which Martineau
bases what I must respectfully call his evasion of this problem :
' The limits, however, within which the higher moral altitudes
can be secured by voluntary command of favouring circumstance
are extremely narrow. Go where we may, we carry the most
considerable portion of our environment with us in our own
constitution ; from whose propensioiis, passions, affections, it is
a vain attempt to fly. The attempt to wither them up and
suppress them by contradiction has ever been disastrous : they
can be counteracted and disarmed and taught obedience only by
Ereoccupation of mind and heart in other directions. Nothing
ut the enthusiasm of a new affection can silence the clamours of
one already there V
Martineau's treatment of the whole subject seems to have been
warped by the assumption that the only way in which a man
can attempt to raise himself to ' the higher moral altitudes by
the voluntary command of favouring circumstance ' is by ' going
out of the world ' in the monastic sense. He insists with much
force upon the folly of attempting to suppress the lower ' pro-
pensions, passions, and affections' by one tremendous sacrifice
of the external goods or surroundings which seem most obviously
to call them into activity. It is quite true that * it is a vain
attempt to fly' from one's natural ' propensions, passions, and
affections/ by change of external environment ; but it is entirely
possible to give a wholly new direction to them by such a change.
> Types, IT, p. 268.
I 2
ii6 VOCATION [Book II
It is precisely because ' the affections can be counteracted and
disarmed and taught obedience only by preoccupation of mind
and heart in other directions ' that the influence of environment
upon character is of such decisive importance. It is jjist because
' nothing but the enthusiasm of a new affection can silence the
clamours of one already there, 1 and because some occupations
are so much more favourable than others to the growth of ' new
affections ' of the right kind, that a man's character is so largely
determined by himself determined by himself, but determined
in ordinary cases once for all by the choice of his walk in life.
Without denying to every honourable and worthy calling
either its characteristic virtues or its characteristic vices, it is
surely undeniable that some professions are as a rule more
favourable to the development of character than others. It is
not to the purpose to allege that all callings are compatible with
the highest Morality. Exceptional men may lead exceptional
lives in any walk of life; the very obstacles to Virtue which
some careers present will become so many occasions for moral
achievement to those who are capable of triumphing over them.
But we are not dealing with exceptional men, but with ordinary
men, though (since ex hypothesi they are desirous of regulating
their choice on the highest principles) with ordinary good men.
And the characters of ordinary men are enormously moulded
by their environment by the nature of their work, by the
people with whom it will bring them into contact, and by the
nature of that contact. To such men when hesitating as to the
choice of a profession such alternatives as these are constantly
presenting themselves. A man hesitates between the profession
of a physician and that of an officer, more or less clearly fore-
seeing that if he becomes an officer there lies before him (in time
of peace) a life of idleness just disguised and sweetened by a
moderate quantity of routine work, a life of comfort and pleasure,
if not of luxury and self-indulgence, to say nothing of the actual
temptations naturally associated with such a life. Against this
there may seem to him (rightly or wrongly) little to be set except
the rare opportunities of heroism and patriotic service which may
from time to time present themselves in war. As a doctor there
lies before him a life of hard work and great usefulness a life in
Chap.iv, ii] MORAL EFFECTS OF PROFESSIONS 117
which there will be daily and hourly calls for the exercise of sym-
pathy, self-denial, and devotion. Or again, take the case of a man
hesitating between the life of a parish clergyman and some
commercial occupation. Of course the temptations of the
highest callings the degradation of the man who cannot in some
measure rise to the moral level which they demand are great in
proportion to the opportunities which they offer. But it will
hardly be denied that most men who have adopted the profession
of a parochial clergyman from not wholly unworthy motives
sometimes even that exception might be omitted are made
better by the demand which such work incessantly creates for
sympathy, for self -judgement, for moral effort, for charity in the
highest sense of the word. How constantly does one find the
highest qualities developed by a few years of serious clerical
work among the poor in a man who certainly showed no signs
of their possession as an undergraduate l ? Can it be doubted that
those virtues might very probably have remained, to say the
least of it, equally dormant and unobtrusive had he gone into
business ? It is not, however, necessary for my argument to
show that the actual moral performance of one profession is on
an average superior to that of another, though I should myself
have little doubt of the fact. The question is, whether some pro-
fessions do or do not make greater and more frequent demands than
others upon the higher ' springs of action ' and so create a ' higher
plane of circumstance/ Here I should have thought there could
not be room for the smallest doubt. Professions which bring
a man into contact with human suffering must surely more
frequently suggest benevolent impulses than those whose work
is done in the study or the office, whatever be the response
which is actually made to such higher suggestions. Professions
which offer opportunies for work not wholly dictated by personal
interest call for these higher motives more frequently than work
1 Of course, to other men the opposite choice might be morally the more
successful. I am assuming the case of the man who possesses in some measure
the particular capacities which clerical work might call out. It must be
remembered that I am myself contending that the character of the f springs
of action ' to which the work appeals is not the right principle on which to
base the choice of a profession.
Ji8 VOCATION [Book II
in which there is comparatively little room for any honesty
except the narrow honesty which is the best policy. Professions
which necessarily involve an attitude of antagonism to moral
evil must clearly be more likely to excite those sentiments of
compassion and reverence which Martineau places at the head
of his table of ' springs of action ' than professions in which the
existence of evil is either kept out of sight or has for the most
part to be accepted as a datum instead of being grappled with.
If that be so, I cannot see how, on his principle, a man to whom
the profession which will secure the presence of these higher
motives has once suggested itself, could ever be justified in adopt-
ing one which will place him on a lower ' plane of circumstance. 1
Whether he possesses the capacity or taste for the work, whether
it is probable that he will succeed in making as frequent response
to these higher springs as he might make to the good but inferior
springs of action suggested by work of a less morally exacting
kind, whether he will be more useful to Society by adopting the
calling which makes the greater demand upon the higher springs
all these are, as it seems to me, utilitarian considerations with
which the Intuitionist of the 'highest motive' school cannot
logically concern himself. Whether the moral value of the
motives immediately prompting a man to choose the one calling
or the other be considered, or whether we have recourse to
Martineau's supplementary rule of choosing the ' higher plane of
circumstance,' nothing could, as it seems to me, justify a man in
choosing what we may for the wake of convenience call the lower
profession in preference to the higher, but the fact that the
desire of adopting the latter had never occurred to him, or that
he had never had one moment's experience of those higher
desires which would be gratified by the adoption of the higher
profession. Exactly the same difficulties would arise if we
assigned a higher value than Dr. Martineau to the intellectual
and aesthetic impulses, and attempted to base the choice of a
profession upon the extent to which it would promote the man's
own self -development.
It must be remembered that the collision of motives respec-
tively impelling a man to the choice of two alternative walks of
life is not commonly limited to the collision between one higher
Chap. iv,ii] POSSIBILITY OF MIXED MOTIVES 119
motive and one good but somewhat lower motive. Martineau,
indeed, shows a disposition to deny the possibility of action
impelled by a mixture of motives ; but whatever be the case
with actions actually performed, there can surely be no doubt
that, so long as alternative courses are still in contemplation, it
seldom happens that the man is impelled to the one or other
course by one motive alone. This is eminently the case with
the choice of a profession. Sometimes, indeed, some of the
lowest inducements will persist in arraying themselves on the
side of the highest of all. What more common in religious
men than a coincidence between the * love of power or ambition '
(placed seventh on Dr. Martineau's list), or even ' love of gain/
and the promptings of ' compassion ' or ' reverence ' ? So again
in the familiar struggle between intellectual and philanthropic
impulses, the lowest desires of all will commonly take the side
of the former. ' Love of ease and sensual pleasure ' will ally
itself with ' love of culture ' in deterring a man from those
active professions to which he is prompted by 'generosity 5 and
' compassion ' in the present, and in which those motives of
action are likely to be most frequently called into activity in
the future. It must be remembered that where a higher desire
and the wish to provide for a future supply of such desires
point one way, and the lower desires the other, the higher
desire is by no means always a predominant, habitual, or over-
mastering desire. Where that is the case, it may be a man's
duty to adopt it irrespectively of inclination. The thought of
the higher vocation may, indeed, be a mere transient, inter-
mittent aspiration. The man may shrink from the higher
vocation (though willing to accept it if proved to be his duty)
with an aversion in which dislike of its hardships, felt incapacity
for its duties, and the overmastering attraction of some less
exalted though not unworthy passion or ambition will mingle
almost inextricably. Yet, if it be once admitted that the moral
value of the impelling motives must determine the choice, it
must follow that no man attracted to the army by 'love of
power or ambition ' could ever conscientiously devote himself to
that profession if a ' love of culture ' had once suggested to him
the thought of being an artist ; that no man who had ever felt
120 VOCATION [Book II
sincere compassion for the sorrows of the poor, and recognized
the supreme nobleness of philanthropic work, could ever devote
himself conscientiously to the cause of Science or learning ; that
no woman who had ever aspired after the usefulness of a hospital
nurse or a schoolmistress could ever conscientiously consent to
marry a squire or a man of business l .
In fact, since the profession to which a man is most strongly
attracted commonly presents itself to him in an agreeable light
i. e. as likely to satisfy some of his lower desires as well as one
or more of the higher ones it would scarcely be an exaggera-
tion to say that on Martineau's principles it will generally be a
man's duty, when hesitating between two or more professions, to
choose that which he dislikes most 2 . Such a preposterous con-
clusion would, of course, have been rejected by Martineau as
emphatically as it would by any other sensible man. Yet from
the perplexities and paradoxes which we have been considering
there seems to be no way of escape so long as we confine
ourselves to a purely subjective criterion, and refuse to consider
the consequences of our action upon social Well-being.
It is true, indeed, that Martineau might point to not a few
passages of his book where the calculation of consequences is
admitted to have a place in morals ; but the relation of the
1 The following words from a letter of Ruskin may illustrate the situation
I am contemplating : ' I am . . . tormented between the longing for rest and
lovely life and the sense of this terrific call of human crime for resistance
and human misery for help ' (Collingwood, Life and Work of John Buskin,
1893, II, p. 7). And yet it may be safely asserted that, even if we measured
its value solely by its effects upon the condition of the poor, Ruskin's
actual career accomplished far more than he would have done had he
turned his back upon Literature and Art and devoted his life to some
directly philanthropic cause : but such indirect social effects could not of
course be expected in all cases.
2 It is difficult to bring within Martineau's table some of the motives
which frequently have most weight in disposing a man to one or other
profession. Perhaps the strongest likings or dislikings for particular
callings commonly rest upon a love of society or of society of a particular
kind, or upon dislike of a particular kind of society. (By society I mean all
kinds of intercourse with one's fellow men.) It is hard to explain such
likings or dislikings by any of Martineau's ' springs,' whether taken singly
or in combination. The only love of pleasure which he recognizes is ' love
of sensual pleasure.'
Chap, iv, iii] THE UTILITARIAN TEST iai
' canon of consequences ' to the canon of motives is nowhere
adequately explained. In one passage 1 , indeed, it is admitted
that such a ' computation is already more or less involved in the
preference pf this or that spring of action ; for, in proportion as
the springs of action are self-conscious, they contemplate their
own effects, and judgement upon them is included in our judge-
ment of the disposition.' If this admission be pressed, it seems
to me to amount to the practical adoption of a consequential or
teleological criterion of the morality of at least all deliberate
actions. All action must affect some one, and if a man is
reflecting upon the course of conduct which it is right for him
to pursue, it must surely occur to him that the consequences of
one course of action will be more socially beneficial than those
of another. How, then, can he fail to be moved to the adoption
of that alternative by * Compassion ' ? And Compassion 2 in the
table before us takes precedence of all other springs of action
except * reverence/ Except, therefore, in so far as its dictates
may be modified by those of reverence, compassion seems to be
practically erected into the ethical criterion. This, however, is
not explicitly admitted by the f ramer of that table, and we are
obliged to assume that comparison of motives is meant to be his
working criterion.
III.
It may be urged that, however unsatisfactory Martineau's
criterion for the determination of cases of Conscience such as
these may be, no more satisfactory guidance is to be obtained
from any other. If we adopt tendency to promote social good
(however understood) as our test, is not the difficulty, it may be
asked, quite as great ? If a man's duty is to adopt the course of
conduct which produces the greatest amount of good on the
whole, how is it possible to set limits to the self-denial, the
asceticism, which such a principle of conduct seems to demand ?
How is it possible, except by a cynical or pessimistic disbelief in
the usefulness of all social or philanthropic effort, to justify the
1 Types, II, p. 255.
2 This is not a suitable word to denote the impulse to promote all kinds of
social good, but Martineau's list of motives supplies no other.
VOCATION [Book II
adoption of a less useful in preference to an intrinsically more
useful or laborious profession the expenditure of time upon
abstract thought or study which might be spent in teaching the
ignorant and brightening the lives of the wretched, the expendi-
ture of money upon the conventional comforts of a middle-class
home (to say nothing of the luxuries of ' the rich ') when it
might be spent upon hospitals and young men's clubs ?
I do not pretend to offer a complete solution of this most
difficult problem of practical Morality. I only wish to point out
that, on the theory which makes universal Well-being the
supreme end, it is not incapable of a solution which may com-
mend itself to ' common sense ' without in any way repressing
the highest moral aspirations. I propose to notice a few of the
more prominent of the considerations which must be taken into
account in a solution of this question, whether in its application
to the choice of a career or the choice of a mode of life in so far
as such a choice remains open to those who have already adopted
some recognized profession. However obvious they may seem
(as most of them certainly are), an attempt to enumerate them
will be the best way of illustrating the practical adaptability to
such cases of our method of ideal Utilitarianism.
(i) In the first place, there are those considerations of what I
have called ' moral prudence/ on which Dr. Martineau has as
I venture to think quite inconsistently with his main principle
sufficiently insisted. Before embarking under the influence of
some higher motive upon a course of action not required by
strict duty, which will require for its maintenance the continued
presence of such higher motives, a man should have a reasonable
prospect that the necessary inspiration will hereafter be forth-
coming ; otherwise the adoption of the higher course of life will
lead to a moral fall rather than to a moral advance. In such
cases the surrender to the ' higher motive ' will not be conducive
to the man's own moral Well-being on the whole, and therefore
not conducive to the good of Society. Of course this principle
will not hold where for some reason or other the course of action
to which man is called is one of plain duty. But if the true
canon of duty be, 'Act always on the highest motive/ it is
difficult to see how any aspiration after some more heroic or
Chap, iv, iii] EXCEPTIONAL VOCATIONS 123
more saintly walk could ever be rightly repressed from a fear of
its possible moral consequences. In that case the answer to
such fears would be, ' Better do right now, even if you will not
be able to Iwe up to the level of your present enthusiasm here-
after/ If, on the other hand, it be the duty of the individual
to realize the highest attainable moral and other good for
himself and others, he will recognize that, though the career of
a philanthropist may be higher than that (say) of an honest
lawyer, he will himself attain a higher moral level as a lawyer
than by the more imperfect fulfilment of a higher ideal.
(2) These considerations naturally lead us to the observation
that certain social functions require for their adequate fulfilment
that they should be done in a certain spirit. Such functions
demand the possession of certain qualities of mincl or heart or
character which cannot be summoned up at the command of the
will, and cannot be satisfactorily performed merely as a matter
of duty. Common sense agrees with Roman Catholic Moral
Theology in recognizing that it would be positively wrong for
any one to enter upon certain careers which make great demands
upon the moral nature, merely from a strong sense of duty,
when they have no ' internal vocation ' for them. The principle,
no doubt, requires to be extended to many careers beyond those
afforded by the priesthood and the religious orders, or the
modern equivalents of such orders ; and the true ultimate ground
of such a distinction must, from our point of view, be found in
the social advantages (moral and hedonistic) which flow from its
observance, and the social disadvantages which would be entailed
by its neglect. The average sister of mercy is, no doubt, a more
valuable member of Society than a Belgravian lady who is
somewhat above the average ; but a sister of mercy with no
natural love or instinct for her work, with no natural love for
the poor or the sick or the young to whom she ministered,
would be far less useful to Society than the Belgravian lady who
performs respectably the recognized duties of her station, even
though she may devote what must in the abstract be considered
a somewhat excessive amount of time to domestic trivialities
and social dissipation.
(3) While the principle just laid down applies pre-eminently
124 VOCATION [Book II
to certain special callings such as those of the artist, the scholar,
the man of letters, the clergyman, the teacher it applies in
a certain measure to all work which is capable of being liked at
all, or for which any special aptitude is possible. It is for the
general good that every man should do the work for which he is
most fitted ; and, as a general rule, a natural liking for the work
or kind of life adopted is one of the most important qualifi-
cations for it. There are, of course, obvious limitations to the
principle thus laid down. The highest tasks are necessarily
repulsive to the lower part of a man's nature. A due distinction
must be drawn between the kind of dislike which there is
a reasonable prospect of overcoming and the dislike which is
insurmountable ; and, again, between the dislike which interferes
with the due performance of the work and the dislike which
does not interfere with it. A surgeon who could not overcome
a physical squeainishness at the sight of blood would be more
useful to Society as a billiard-marker. On the other hand,
absolute callousness to human suffering, though it might increase
his love of his profession, would scarcely, I presume, be a qualifi-
cation for its duties.
(4) Regard must be paid not only to the effects of the indi-
vidual's conduct, but to the effect of the general adoption of
a like course of conduct on the part of others. Thus it would
not be socially desirable to encourage all high-minded men to
forsake the careers which seem from some points of view to
stand upon the lowest moral level. A life of money-making
(abstracted from the use which is to be made of the money
when accumulated) may from some points of view seem one to
which nobody could lawfully devote himself who had ever felt
an aspiration after some higher kind of work ; for, however
necessary to society may be the work of merchants and stock-
brokers, there would always (under existing conditions) be
forthcoming a sufficient supply of duly qualified persons who
would be attracted into these professions from purely mercenary
motives. Against this, however, must be set the demoralization
which would result to such classes or professions, and the conse-
quent injury to Society, if all men of high character were led to
avoid them. It may be questioned whether, upon this principle,
Chap, iv, iii] PERSONAL EXPENDITURE 125
it may not sometimes be a positive duty on the part of some
good people to continue in, if not to adopt, professions which
may be in various degrees unfavourable to the improvement of
their own personal character, or which at least involve much
that is disagreeable to what we may call their moral taste,
provided that they minister to legitimate social needs. The
most extreme ill effects of the adoption of a contrary prin-
ciple were experienced in the Middle Ages. The ' religious ' life
being assumed to be the highest of all careers, every man or
woman anxious about his or her soul was driven into a religious
house, unless, indeed, they were wealthy enough to found one.
The consequence was an appalling relaxation of the standard of
ordinary < secular ' morality a complete de-spiritual ization of
all ' secular ' life, including that of the secular priest. Even the
work of the pastor had to be abandoned to worldly men,
because it was not disagreeable enough to satisfy the religious
man's hankering after self-mortification.
(5) Similar considerations are applicable to the innumerable
difficulties which beset the Conscience of every man possessed
with something of the ' enthusiasm of humanity ' in the matter
of personal expenditure, conventional luxury, and so on. In the
first place, he will apply the principle of ' moral prudence ' to
the effects of his conduct upon himself and his capacity for
work. He will make recreation subordinate to work, social
pleasures to social usefulness, and so on. There is, however,
room for as many different vocations, so to speak, in respect of
the use that may be made of leisure hours as there is in the
choice of a life-work : and some of them are higher than others.
It is no doubt a morally higher thing to spend one's evenings
in teaching a night school than to spend them in amusement or
light reading. But if a man to whom some higher motive suggests
the idea of taking up with the former occupation feels that the
work would be excessively distasteful, and that as a consequence
he would be less capable of efficiently discharging his duties in
the day, and probably become irritable, discontented, and dys-
peptic, he will do much better to play whist of an evening
instead, even in the interests of his own moral Well-being. Still
more evidently will such a course be recommended when we
126 VOCATION [Book II
extend our view first to the direct effects of the two alternatives
on the happiness of others, and then to the effects which would
follow an extensive imitation of a conscientious but uncheerful
philanthropy. On Dr. Martineau's principle, it is difficult to see
how it is possible to justify a rich man under any circumstances
living the life of a country gentleman, even as such a life might
be lived under the inspiration of a ' social Conscience ' far above
the average, when once it has been suggested to him that he
might spend his fortune on some great work of social usefulness.
He would certainly be prompted to the last course by 'com-
passion' and deterred from it (among however many other
and better motives) by ' love of ease and sensual pleasure.' On
the other hand, when once the appeal is made to social Well-
being, a number of other important considerations suggest
themselves which may well justify a man who does not feel
strongly moved to make such a sacrifice in accepting the more
agreeable alternative. He will reflect that the habits of a class
cannot be suddenly changed, but that they may be gradually
modified. He will remember that certain kinds of work can
only be done in connexion with certain social positions : a hard-
working professional man may do much more work than a
resident squire, but he cannot do precisely the same work that
a good squire may do. He might therefore do more good by
setting an example of liberality, care for dependents, devotion to
public duties, and moderation in amusement and personal
expenditure, than by letting his country house and giving the
proceeds to public works or well-administered charities. He
will reflect that some forms of luxury have good social effects,
such as the encouragement of art and superior workmanship,
which ultimately benefit the community at large. He may feel
that it is better to indulge to some extent in forms of luxury
demanded by the customs of his class, but difficult to reconcile
with abstract ideas of Justice, such as good dinners, expensive
wines, a large house and numerous servants, rather than
abandon great opportunities of social or political influence and
usefulness.
It is not my intention here to discuss from a practical point
of view the extent to which this principle should be carried. It
Chap, iv, iii] STANDARDS OF COMFORT 127
is probable that, while the existence of different standards of
class expenditure and of considerable inequalities in the
expenditure of individuals is socially beneficial, a vast amount
of the coaventional expenditure of the rich and well-to-do
classes, in view of the surrounding sordid misery, is wholly
unjustifiable ; and that a still larger amount is only provisionally
and relatively justifiable, because under existing conditions the
non-conformity with established usage would on the whole, for
such and such persons and in such and such circumstances, be the
greater of two evils. But it is clear that very different standards
of expenditure must be admitted, unless we are to pronounce
many occupations or professions absolutely barred to persons
whose social Conscience has once been aroused. If a man cannot
justify to his Conscience the provision of champagne for his
guests, it is clear that diplomacy is an impossible profession for
him. If he cannot make up his mind to mess and contribute to
regimental amusements as other officers do, he cannot enter the
army; and in many other positions in life it is impossible to
escape the choice between total isolation with much loss not
only of pleasure but of influence and professional effectiveness
and acquiescence in some kinds of expenditure which we may
feel to involve a very unjust and socially inexpedient distribu-
tion of external goods. No doubt these 'necessities of one's
position ' should be duly weighed before the position which
necessitates them is accepted. In many cases they might con-
stitute a good reason for refusing to accept that position, and,
when it is accepted, the duty remains of reducing them within
reasonable limits; but I do not believe that it would be for
the general good, and therefore I do not believe that the
moral consciousness allows us to lay it down, that all positions
involving a high standard of personal expenditure should be
closed to any one whose eyes had once been opened to the
responsibilities of wealth.
I need hardly add that the other side of the matter the
enormous need for men who will adopt exceptional modes of
life, and devote themselves to public or philanthropic work in
ways which do demand exceptional self-sacrifice is an equally
important one, and that for men who feel that need strongly
VOCATION [Book II
and their capacity for meeting it, the exceptional sacrifice may
become the most imperative of duties. On this side of the
matter I shall have more to say hereafter.
(6) Another consideration which must be borne, in mind is
that, if Well-being or Good in general be the supreme end, my
good is a part of that end: and my happiness is a part of my
good, though not the whole of it. It ought not, therefore, to be
sacrificed to promote a less amount of it in others. And up to
a certain point the general Well-being is best promoted by the
principle that within the limitations demanded by strict duty
every one shall exercise a reasonable care for his own happiness,
and shall not make such complete sacrifices of material goods or
advantages as will (he being what he is) involve the destruction
of his tranquillity and contentment, although such sacrifices
might be compatible with happiness in better men. This prin-
ciple may be admitted even for the guidance of the individual
Conscience and still more when there is a question of incul-
cating such sacrifices on people in general without going the
length of saying, with the late Mr. Justice Stephen, that * human
nature is so constituted that nearly all our conduct, immensely
the greater part of it, is and ought to be regulated much more
by a regard to ourselves and to our own interests than by
a regard to other people and their interests V It is obvious that
the extent to which this principle can be admitted will be very
considerably narrowed by the acceptance of a non-hedonistic
interpretation of Good. As soon as Morality is recognized as an
end in itself and an essential part of true Well-being, it becomes
impossible to admit that a pursuit of his own happiness,
unmixed with and unregulated by a desire for other people's,
could ever be the vocation of any man, even if in his particular
case such a course of conduct should chance to be coincident
with that dictated by the public Well-being. The individual
should pursue his own Well-being as part of the general Well-
being, but he will recognize that his moral Well-being demands
a measure of self-sacrifice.
(7) The principle that the rationality of self-sacrifice logically
implies a limitation to self-sacrifice, may be used to justify not
1 In the Nineteenth Century, No. 118, p. 783.
Chap, iv, iii] NEED OF INEQUALITY 129
merely some enjoyment on the part of every individual, but
even a very unequal enjoyment on the part of some individuals.
In proportion as we hold that competition, the struggle to raise
the personal or family standard of comfort, the indulgence and
development of individual tastes and inclinations in ways which
involve considerable expenditure of wealth, the increase of
differentiation in modes of life, and the like are good for Society,
the individual must in some cases be justified in allowing himself
an amount of luxury and enjoyment which would not be possible
for all under the most ideal socialistic regime. It is possible
to admit that civilization and progress demand considerable
inequalities without accepting von Hartmann's doctrine that to
promote maximum inequality is necessarily and under all cir-
cumstances to promote true social progress. The principle must
be balanced by the complementary principle that such inequali-
ties of enjoyment have a tendency to increase beyond the point
which is socially expedient. To what extent this principle will
justify the individual in choosing the easier and more enjoyable
careers, and enjoying an exceptionally favourable social position
or exceptional good fortune, will depend partly upon the answer
he gives to a number of social and economic questions, and
partly upon his personal circumstances and disposition. It is
unnecessary to repeat once more that this consideration cannot
possibly justify any individual under any circumstances in being
merely an enjoyer of other men's labours. It may be good for
Society that the wages of different classes and individuals should
vary, even to a very large extent : it cannot possibly be to the
advantage of Society or to the moral advantage of any individual
that his wages should be wholly unearned.
(8) And, lastly, there is the fact that some kinds of work
which do not call into activity the very highest ' springs of
action' are as useful as, perhaps more useful than, those that
do : and that in reference to some of these kinds of work it is
even truer than of more distinctly spiritual kinds of work that
'the harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few/ In
England at least this is notably the case with all the higher
kinds of intellectual labour. I for one cannot assent to that
beatification of intellectual pursuits and even of the most
130 VOCATION [Book II
selfish forms of intellectual sybaritism which is not unknown
among persons of literary and speculative tastes, but a demon-
stration of the supreme social value of such work when it
really is work will be superfluous in the eyes of cmy one who
is at all likely to read this book. All history is against the
attempt to encourage intellectual Obscurantism in the interests
of a narrow moral or material Utilitarianism. All history testi-
fies to the intimate connexion, in the long run and within certain
limits, between moral and intellectual vitality. The darkness
of the dark ages was not merely intellectual darkness ; the
stagnation of China is not merely intellectual stagnation. And
if an appeal may plausibly be made to a few brilliant periods,
such as the Renaissance, as an exhibition of the possibility of
high intellectual development in combination with a low morale,
it must be remembered that the early phases of the Renaissance
were periods of high moral as well as intellectual enthusiasm,
and that the intellectual decay which set in so soon in those
countries where the Renaissance was not also a period of moral
and religious progress may be distinctly traced to the moral
corruption. High excellence in Art involves such a long period
of technical training that the greatest technical perfection of an
Art movement often comes long after the decline of the moral
and intellectual forces which produced it.
It is obvious that these reflections might be spun out indefi-
nitely. Enough, it is hoped, has been said to illustrate the kind
of guidance which may be afforded in the solution of such
problems of vocation by the adoption of a consequential but
non-hedonistic criterion of Morality.
IV
It will by this time have become evident that the course of
our argument has led us from the discussion of a particular
duty, that of choosing an occupation, into the discussion of a much
larger and more fundamental question of ethics the distinction
between Duty and the morally good, between what are sometimes
called duties of * perfect ' and those of * imperfect obligation/
the question whether there are or are not such things as ' works
of supererogation,' I have already contended that there are
Chap, iv, iv] WORKS OF SUPEREROGATION 131
cases where it is good for a man to contribute in certain ways to
the general good, though it would not be wrong for him to
refuse to contribute to it in those ways that there are cases
where a man may rightfully decline to perform socially bene-
ficial actions for the reason (among others) that he does not feel
a natural inclination or strong desire to perform them. On the
other hand, it has been assumed (as it must be assumed by every
system which recognizes moral obligation at all) that in some
cases no amount of disinclination, no consideration of the sacri-
fice involved, will justify a refusal to adopt the course of action
which will make the largest contribution to social good. But
how, it may be asked, can such a distinction be admitted without
involving ourselves in the jyrima facie immoral corollary that
a man can do more than his duty? I believe that we have
already by implication arrived at something like an answer to
the question. One course, and one only, can ever be a man's
duty ; but duty itself requires in certain cases that regard shall
be paid to the inner dispositions and inclinations of the indi-
vidual. It is always a man's duty to do what conduces most to
the general good ; but the general good itself demands that,
whereas some contributions to social good shall be required of
all men placed under the same external circumstances, in other
cases contributions differing both in kind and in amount shall
be demanded of different men. It will be well, however, to
dwell a little more at length upon the difficulty and importance
of the problem under discussion.
The case for and against works of supererogation shall be
stated by two modern French philosophers of the last genera-
tion, fimile Beaussire and Paul Janet. The contrast between
their views on this point is the more striking on account of
their general agreement in philosophic tendency. In the former
writer's works we find such utterances as these :
' Merit and virtue arise from accomplished duty, but in their
highest degrees they tend to pass the limits of duty : they rise
to the point of devotion. ... To surrender one's children to the
service of one's country, when she claims them in the name of the
law, is a duty of obligation (devoir de droit). To offer them for
it, when the law allows one to keep them, is a duty of virtue, or
133 VOCATION [Book II
rather an act of devotion which goes beyond duty. To withdraw
them from the legal obligation of a public education where one
sees a danger for their faith or for their morality, is perhaps
the most imperious of duties V
On the other hand, Janet, a typical representative of the
* spiritualistic ' Philosophy once dominant in France, writes as
follows :
* The distinction of two domains, the domain of good and
that of duty, would conduct us to the inadmissible supposition,
that between two actions, of which one would be manifestly
better than the other, the individual is at liberty to choose the
less good. From what source could this privilege be derived?
Is it not under another form that opinion of the Casuists so
severely condemned by Pascal and by Bossuet, the opinion, that
is to say, that between two probable opinions one is allowed to
choose the less probable ? * '
The writer then proceeds to explain the apparent collision
between the verdict of reflection and the verdict of what
Sidgwick would call ' common sense ' on this head by the
following considerations :
(a) The degree of self-sacrifice demanded for the performance
of a man's duty depends upon his circumstances, especially upon
his ' r61e * in society. When it is demanded either by that ' rdle '
or by the exceptional circumstances under which any man may
find himself placed, ' devotion ' becomes in the strictest sense
a duty. This is the principle on which I have myself insisted.
What I desiderate in Janet's admirable treatment of this sub-
ject is some discussion of the principles by which a man is
to determine his * rdle ' in society. A theory of duty requires
a theory of Vocation as its necessary complement.
(b) The highest degrees of moral perfection are not attainable
by all men. It is a duty to strive after the highest degree
of moral perfection that circumstances permit. ' No one is bound
to do what is impossible : all are bound to do what is possible/
(c) The popular distinction between duties and acts which it is
good to do but not wrong to omit, depends mainly upon a par-
ticular characteristic of the subject-matter or content of certain
duties, i. e. their indeterminateness.
1 Lea Principes de la Morale, pp. 169, 241. 2 La Morale, p. 227.
Chap, iv, iv] VIEW OF JANET 133
(d) The development of the moral consciousness in different
men being unequal, the same actions do not always suggest
themselves to all men; acts of extraordinary heroism, ideals
of extraordinary self-devotion, present themselves only to rare
and exceptionally endowed natures.
' Further, in so far as the idea of an action has not presented
itself to our minds, it is evident that it cannot be obligatory on
us; that ceases to be the case as soon as this idea has been
conceived by our consciousness. The action, once represented in
thought, presents itself to us with all the characteristics of duty ;
and we cannot refuse it without remorse V
Thus the popular distinction between duties and acts which
it is good to do is to a certain extent justified, while the immoral
deduction that it is possible to do more than one's duty, and
sometimes right to do less, is avoided. With this position
I should in the main agree. At the same time, I do not think
that Janet has quite got to the bottom of the difficulty. He is
no doubt right in holding that it is a duty to aim at doing
the utmost amount of good that lies in one's power : and there-
fore it is not possible for a man to do more than his duty.
Moreover, it is an essential characteristic of the moral law that
it should be (in the Kantian phrase) 'fit to serve for law universal/
i. e. that what is right for one must be right for every one else
in the same circumstances when they are really the same. But
it is perfectly consistent with this principle to include a man's
character, moral, emotional, and intellectual, among the ' circum-
stances ' or conditions upon which his duty in the particular case
depends. The neglect of this distinction between external and
what I may venture to call ' internal ' circumstances or conditions,
has been the main source of the vagueness and uncertainty
which has generally characterized the treatment of the distinction
between duties, and actions that it is good to do but not wrong
to omit. By Janet the principle of internal or subjective con-
ditions is to a certain extent recognized ; but the interpretation
which (here approximating to the position of Martineau) he
would give to the principle seems to me at once too wide and
too narrow. The only subjective circumstance, according to
1 La Morale, p. 232.
i 3 4 VOCATION [Book II
Janet, which could ever justify a man in omitting a good action
which it would have been good for another to perform seems to
be the circumstance that the good action did not happen to
occur to him. Similarly, according to Martineau, aji act done
from the highest motive actually present to the agent is always
right ; an act is never wrong unless a higher motive than that
which prompted his actual choice was present to the agent's
consciousness. Now. it seems to me that the practical maxims
of such a system would under certain circumstances fall very
much below, at other times rise too far above, what would
generally be recognized as the requirements of duty properly
understood. A crowd stands by while a child is drowned in
three feet of artificial water in a London park. Would it
altogether remove the moral disapprobation with which we
regard the act of one of the individuals concerned if he pleaded
that it never occurred to him to jump in and save the child ?
It seems to me that it is quite conceivable that to many persons
in that crowd the thought did not occur. But it surely shocks
all common sense to say that in that case they did not fail in
their duty. There are surely many cases in which a man is
ignorant of his duty, but in which we cannot deny that such and
such a course was his duty, whether he knew it or not. From
Martineau's point of view, indeed, such a statement would be an
absurdity : since his criterion of duty is wholly subjective, it is
impossible for a man to be ignorant of his duty. There is,
according to his view, no objective right or wrong in actions ;
only a higher and a lower. But Janet insists strongly on the
necessity of an objective criterion of Morality. It would seem,
therefore, that we must exclude from the internal conditions
that may vary the duty of two men placed in similar external
circumstances the want of knowledge of what the duty is as
well as the want of will to perform it, however much ignorance
may in some cases mitigate the culpability. In asking under
what subjective conditions A may be right in omitting an act
which it would have been right for B in like external circum-
stances to perform, we must exclude the absence of sufficient
devotion to duty on the part of A, or sufficient care to find out
what his duty is : when we ask what is A's duty, we assume
Chap, iv, iv] INCLINATION VARIES DUTY 135
that he is anxious to find out his duty and willing to do it when
found. But we may include in the internal conditions that vary
duty the presence or absence of all moral qualities which are not
under the immediate control of the will which may be more or
less cultivated, but which are not producible to order. Now,
there are some good actions which do and there are others which
do not require for their fulfilment moral qualities of this kind.
A man's duty under all circumstances is to do what is most
conducive to the general good: but, while the general good
demands that certain good things shall be done by all men
irrespective of their natural disposition and the degree of moral
perfection which they have attained, there are other good things
which the general good only demands that persons of a certain
disposition and moral character should perform. Thus the social
value of truth -speaking is not dependent upon the strength of
the agent's natural love of truth, or the degree of moral advance-
ment which he has attained in other respects. However
reluctantly he speak the truth, Society gets the same advantage ;
if he lies, the injury to Society is the same. The public Well-being
demands that all shall speak the truth. A man cannot therefore
plead that he has no vocation for contributing to social good
in that particular way : the general good demands that to this
rule of conduct there shall be no exceptions *. Indeed, the more
exceptional be the lie, the more harm it is likely to do. On the
other hand it is good for a rich man (with no obvious private
claims upon his purse) to sell all that he has, and to give the
whole of his time and money (in ways consistent with sound
economical principles) to the service of the poor. But this only
becomes a duty in persons endowed with a sufficient love of the
poor to do this not grudgingly or of necessity, and placed in
certain perhaps rather exceptional external circumstances. In
that sense it might even be called a work of supererogation,
though the term is on the whole an objectionable one : not only
is it not an action demanded by social Well-being of all men
placed in similar circumstances, but this is one of those cases in
1 I mean of course exceptions in favour of particular persona ; I recognize
the existence of exceptional cases when it is the duty of all not to speak the
truth.
136 VOCATION [Book II
which (as Janet says of the voluntary adoption of celibacy from
the highest motives) ' it is even evident that this state cannot be
chosen by some, except on condition of its not being chosen by
all V The good of Society demands that there should be different
vocations, some of them morally higher than others. A man can
never do more than his duty, or without sin do less when once
he knows what his duty is. But it is sometimes right, because
desirable in the highest interests of Society, that a man should
choose what must still be recognized as being from many points
of view the lower vocation. It is morally as well as socially
desirable that there should be a great liberty of choice as to the
particular way and as to the extent to which he will contribute
to social good ; but that liberty of choice is conditioned by the
duty and that the most imperative of all duties of adopting
the vocation to which upon a fair review of all circumstances,
internal and external, a man believes himself to be called. It is
conditioned also, I may add and this is a consideration which
would demand much fuller treatment were I writing primarily
with a practical object by the duty of moral progress; that is
to say, of gradually fitting himself (so far as the external con-
ditions of his life allow) for a higher degree of devotion to social
good than any to which, being what he is, he could at present
wisely aspire.
The general tendency of non-utilitarian Philosophy has been
either to assume that there is in all cases some one course of
action which all moral men placed under the same external
circumstances would recognize as their ' bounden duty/ or to find
in the mere definiteness or indefiniteness of the received rules of
conduct a sharp and fundamental distinction between ' duties '
and acts which it is good to perform if one likes between the
terms ' right ' and ' good ' in their application to actions. On the
other hand, it has been the tendency of Utilitarian Philosophy
to reduce all duties to a general obligation or encouragement of
a philanthropy the extent and limitations of which are usually
left undefined. By means of the principle of Vocation it is
possible to justify the popular distinction between duties and
charitable actions, without detracting either from the imperative-
1 IM Morale, p. 229.
Chap.iv,iv] PROTESTANTISM AND CATHOLICISM 137
ness of duty or from the claims of a more abounding charity,
and to find the basis of that distinction in the requirements of
social Well-being itself.
The positions at which I have arrived in the foregoing pages
may be summarized by the following definitions :
(1) It is always a man's duty to adopt the course of action
most conducive to the general Well-being. A man can never do
more than his duty, nor can he ever (when he knows his duty)
without sin do less.
(2) The name of absolute duties may be given to those rules
of conduct which the general Well-being requires to be observed
by all men under given external circumstances, irrespectively of
the subjective condition or character of the agent.
(3) Acts or omissions which the general good only requires
under certain internal circumstances or subjective conditions
may be termed duties of Vocation.
The question has been one of the traditional subjects of debate
between Protestant and Roman Catholic Theologians. Catholicism
has formally asserted, Protestantism has formally denied, the
possibility of ' works of Supererogation/ If we look to the
practical effects of the two one-sided doctrines, it would seem
that Protestantism has in its periods of austerity and enthusiasm
imposed upon all men a standard too rigid, too restrictive of
natural and innocent pleasure, to be attainable or morally
wholesome for the majority of men ; while in its periods of
dullness and spiritual lethargy it has reduced its moral ideal for
all men to one of mere respectability, and tended to discourage
acts or careers of exceptional self-denial and devotion. Catholi-
cism, on the other hand, has at no period of its history failed to
give all due encouragement to exceptional missions and high
religious or social enthusiasms * ; while it has at times relaxed
the minimum standard of Morality required as 'necessary to
salvation* to a dangerous and deplorable degree. A true and
1 It has of course too often sought to bring the ideals and the practice of
exceptional men into conformity with a single too narrow ecclesiastical type.
The result has been either rebellion and schism, or (as with St. Francis)
that the enthusiast's work was largely spoiled by the transformation which
ecclesiastical authority imposed upon it.
138 VOCATION [Book II
healthy view of the matter will combine the two one-sided
doctrines. With the Protestant it will insist on the necessity
of a high standard of social duty for all ; with the Catholic it
will encourage and find room for any amount of self-devotion
of self-devotion of a kind which really conduces to social Well-
being in those who find within themselves the capacity and the
call for such sacrifices.
V
The theory that there exists a certain sphere for the indulgence
of the individual's spontaneous impulses and aspirations seems
to me the germ of truth involved in the principle which in the
hands of Prof. Hoffding has been developed into a system which
may be called one of ' Optional Morality V He has rightly
insisted on the fact that duties in detail may be different for
different persons, and that the difference depends upon natural
character and not merely upon external position, but he leaves
out what appear to me to be the necessary qualifications of the
doctrine. Upon his view, it would appear that the requirements
of sexual Morality will be just what any one likes to make
them. Prof. Taylor has also rightly insisted upon the idea of
Vocation, but he seems to me to go much too far when he says
that such a problem as that of Isabella in Measure for Measure,
called upon to choose between her chastity and her brother's
life, is ' altogether a problem for the agent herself to decide, and
to decide by reference to her own personal feelings V It may
be quite true that ' what might in one woman be an act of heroic
self-sacrifice might in another be a cowardly desertion of duty ' ;
1 See his interesting and instructive article ('The Law of Relativity in
Ethics ') in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. I (Oct., 1890).
Prof. Simmel has also insisted much on the fact that the * ought* (sollen)
for one individual is quite different from that of another, a principle which
he pushes almost to the point of allowing the superior individual to dis-
regard the conditions of social Well-being, but at the same time he very
strongly insists that there can be only one duty for a given individual at a
given time and in given circumstances (Einleitung, II,p.39,&c.). All the writers
mentioned (Hflffding, Simmel, Taylor) seem to me to ignore the limitations
which must be put to the application of a principle very sound in itself.
2 The Problem of Conduct, p. 43.
Chap. iv,v] MEANING OF VOCATION 139
but that would be in all probability because of the partial
knowledge which each would possess of the circumstances and
consequences of her act, and of like acts, upon general Well-being ;
or because, .though the ideal of each might have much in it that
is valuable, one or both of them may have been more or less
imperfect and one-sided. The case seems to be by no means
a good example of a matter in which duty is really dependent
upon subjective inclination. I see no reason to doubt that the
ideal woman ideally informed of the situation would know
what to do under the circumstances; though, when considera-
tions are so evenly balanced, the external critic would do well
to respect, or at least to shrink from severely condemning, either
choice conscientiously made. But, though the instance seems to
be an unfortunate one, there can be no doubt that there are
other cases where the duty really is different for different people.
The best that is in one man is different from the best that is in
another, and in order that the best in each should be developed,
it is desirable not only that there should be limits to the extent
to which uniform rules of conduct should be externally imposed
by law or social pressure, but that, even from the point of view
of the highest Morality, it should be recognized that the duty
of the individual depends within certain limits upon his individual
tastes, inclinations, aspirations. The same considerations of
social Well-being which prescribe this liberty will prescribe also
its limits.
We have so far discussed the subject without reference to
those religious considerations which actually underlie the use
of the word Vocation to indicate those particular spheres of
social activity which are different for different individuals.
A fuller discussion of the relations between Religion and Morality
must for the present be postponed. Here it may be enough to
remark that the religious or teleological view of the world,
insisting on the idea that every human being is intended to
realize some end, and an end in some measure perhaps different
from that of every other individual, encourages the view that
the individual is within certain limits allowed a choice between
different kinds and different degrees of self-sacrifice ; but it will
emphasize also the fact that there is some one course of action,
140 VOCATION [Book II
if only he can find it out, which is the individual's duty ; and it
will encourage also the disposition to assume that a strong
prompting towards or aspiration after a particular kind of social
service constitutes a presumption that that particular kind of
social service is one to which the individual is really called
by God.
VI
This chapter may conclude with a brief reference to a rather
curious thesis of Professor Simmel 1 the doctrine that a man
ought to choose his social function in such a way as to utilize his
moral deficiencies in the public interest. I should quite admit
the principle as far as it goes. A man with a love of arbitrary
power might be well advised in making himself an Indian
civilian or a schoolmaster ; a man in whom the passion of
curiosity is strongly developed, a detective ; a man with a great
distaste for regular work might justify his existence as an
explorer ; and so on. On the other hand, a man exceptionally
sensitive to other people's sufferings would be disqualified for
the profession of a soldier or criminal judge, while he might
make a good clergyman. What I should not admit is that the
deficiencies would actually make him better in the work of his
profession, if they are really moral deficiencies and not merely
intellectual or emotional capacities which have a value in some
men but which it might not be desirable for every one to possess
in the same degree. The soldier will not be the worse soldier
for being tender-hearted if he has also a strong sense of duty
and a strong will, though a hard-hearted soldier will not be so
useless or pernicious as a hard-hearted doctor or clergyman.
The clergyman will be less valuable even as a clergyman if his
philanthropy overpowers zeal for righteousness or his sense of
Justice. What makes the man socially useful is not really the
absence of certain good qualities but the presence of certain
good qualities in spite of the absence of certain others. A
merely one-sided emotional development may from a rough
practical point of view seem a positive help to a man's usefulness
1 'Moral Deficiencies as determining Intellectual Functions,' in Inter-
national Journal of Ethics, Vol. Ill, 1892-3, p. 490 sq.
Chap.iv, vi] THEORY OF SIMMEL 141
in a particular position, because human nature is so constituted
that extreme and yet valuable developments of this kind are
frequently found in persons who lack the complementary quali-
ties (which* may be relatively unimportant for that particular
place in life) ; but still the man would be nearer the ideal if he
did combine both sides of character.
It might be possible, indeed, to contend that even the ideal
man's character (and not merely his conduct) must be to some
extent relative to his vocation. There is a sense, no doubt, in
which this is true. We might perhaps adequately recognize this
truth by saying that in the ideal man the qualities less required
by his special vocation would be there potentially, if not to any
great extent actually. The student cannot be so often under
the influence of strong social or humanitarian emotion as the
preacher of social reform or the worker in slums, but he may
be (though unfortunately he tends not to be) equally capable of
such emotions upon occasion, and just as ready to perform such
social or humanitarian duties as are actually duties for him.
And so he will not be the better student on account of any
defect which can strictly be called a moral defect. A strictly
moral defect would be, in fact, by definition, the absence of a
quality which ought to be present in some measure in all
men.
The question how far there is any single ideal of human
character is one which deserves a little further consideration 1 .
If by ' character ' we mean actual, developed tendencies to feel
and act in a certain way, it may be freely admitted not merely
that there is an ideal character appropriate to each particular
vocation or position in life, but that even within the ranks of
the same occupation, or in matters which have no special relation
to any particular mode of life, there is room for considerable
variety of character. The perfection of human society demands
the interaction of many different types of human excellence,
moral as well as intellectual. Some kinds of conduct are good
only in so far as they are exceptional, and would become socially
pernicious if they were practised too frequently or too exclu-
1 That there is such a single ideal has been denied by von Hartmann,
D. sittL Betvusstsein, p. 131.
14* VOCATION [Book II
sively ; and there are, as we have seen, certain departments of
conduct in which a certain type of conduct only becomes right,
as it is practically only possible, for persons of a certain tempera-
ment. There are duties peculiar to particular vocations that is
to say, not merely duties connected with particular offices or
professions or classes, but duties incumbent on individuals of
a certain temperament or certain capacities without being incum-
bent on all ; and there are divergent types of intellectual and
emotional constitution which qualify a man for one occupation
or mode of life rather than for another, and make it his duty to
adopt one rather than another. Within a certain range, Society
wants for its perfection men of very divergent qualities and
tendencies. Society requires born Radicals and born Conserva-
tives. That everybody should exhibit the ideal mean between
the two would not answer its purposes so well as a division of
labour between men of different temperaments. The ideal
' moderate ' in a state of society ripe for revolution would
be too moderate for a revolutionary, and too progressive for
a functionary. The moderate Liberal may have his place and
his work, but he cannot perform the function either of the
revolutionary or of the good Conservative who makes the best
of a bad system, or tries to mend it by unheroic improvements.
Both social functions are useful, but they cannot both be per-
formed by the same person ; the fact that a man performs one
makes it impossible that he should perform the other. A man
cannot be a religious or political reformer of the more thorough-
going kind and at the same time a guide of timid consciences
and a gradual improver of existing institutions. There is room
for a Luther, and there is room for an Erasmus ; but the same
person cannot undertake both r61es. No doubt a man more
reasonable than Luther and less timid than Erasmus might
conceivably have taken either line, though it would have been,
doubtless, the same with a difference ; but sooner or later there
must have come the alternative to break with the Roman
Church or not to break with it. Good might have been done by
either course, but not the same good ; and, though it is possible
to think of an ideal man who might have done more good than
either a Luther or an Erasmus, it is possible, also, that one task
Chap, iv, vi] PLURALITY OF IDEALS 143
was best done by a man of a vehement or violent temperament
and the other by a man of somewhat timid character.
All this may be fully and freely admitted * ; but there remains
a sense in which we may nevertheless speak of a single ideal of
human character, and cannot refuse to do so without contra-
dicting the most essential deliverances of the moral consciousness.
In no individual whatever, no matter how circumstanced, can
there be too great a devotion to duty or to the good, though that
devotion will show itself in different ways, varying not merely
with outward circumstances but with intellectual and emotional
constitution. Moreover, among the emotions, desires, or tenden-
cies to action which inspire men to promote the good, or which
are recognized by the moral consciousness as having an intrinsic
value of their own, there are some which, we feel, ought to exist
in all men, and without which no man can attain the ideal in any
position of life, though within certain limits the relative promi-
nence or strength of them may sometimes vary without making
one a better man than the other. But there are other desires,
emotions, and inclinations which may be pronounced good,
though in this or that individual they may be almost entirely
absent or undeveloped without his being on that account placed
on a lower level than those who have them. Under this head
will fall not merely purely intellectual or aesthetic tendencies,
but also many qualities which do in a sense belong to character,
though they are practically inseparable from certain intellectual
or aesthetic capacities. The capacity to produce or to ' under-
stand ' music is an intellectual gift which possesses value, but
the love of music is in a sense a quality of character. Still, it is
a quality of character which we do not recognize it as a duty for
all individuals in all circumstances to possess or to acquire, since
in some cases it either could not be acquired at all, or could only
1 To a large extent of course the one-sided man is only made more effective
by the moral and intellectual defects of other people ; in a more perfect
society there might be no need for such men. But I do not think we
could suppose the need for such one-sidedness altogether eliminated in
a society which should still be human. I am here speaking in a merely
popular way, and do not profess to draw a sharp distinction between a differ-
ence of qualities or ' characteristics ' and different degrees of development
of one and the same characteristic.
144 VOCATION [Book II
be acquired at the cost of certain other qualities of equal or
greater value both intrinsically and on account of their social
effects. In such cases we do not regard the man who possesses
these qualities as necessarily a better man than the man who
lacks them.
With regard to those qualities which are more closely con-
nected with the state of the will, and have a bearing upon the
performance of duties which are duties for every man, we
recognize a certain ideal scale of values. We pronounce that such
and such qualities are morally higher and better than certain
others ; but inasmuch as these qualities are not always under
the immediate control of the will, we do not say that a man has
necessarily failed in his duty because in his character this ideal
scale of relative prominence has not been reached. But still,
I think, we should recognize that, so long as we confine our-
selves to these more general and universal ingredients, so to
speak, of human character, there is an ideal balance of these
qualities which a man cannot fall short of without being a less
ideal man than he who exhibits it, though in one position the
higher qualities may be less frequently called into activity than
in others. For the man of higher nature it might be wrong to
accept positions in which these higher qualities would have
small opportunities for their due development and influence
upon Society. But the ideal man would not be actually dis-
qualified by the possession of these qualities for any position in
life whatever ; though, no doubt, in point of fact their presence
is often found to be accompanied by other qualities or defects of
quality which might make him less efficient in some positions
than a less good man. Not only could no man have too much
devotion to the good in general, but such qualities as love, truth-
fulness, purity, courage, and the like are qualities which no man
in any position could have too much of, or be deficient in
without falling proportionately below the true human ideal.
Without some measure of those qualities he could not have that
devotion to duty without which he could not be a good man at
all. And even with regard to their relative prominence there is
to some extent an ideal, and a man cannot fall short of the ideal
without being a man of lower character than the man who
Chap, iv, vi] DIFFERENT SENSES OF CHARACTER 145
approximates to it more nearly, though he may succeed in doing
his duty just because for a man of lower type duty may be
something different than for the man of higher type. Of these
universal qualities there can be no excess. A man could not be
too brave, so long as bravery means simply a willingness to face
danger when duty calls. On the other hand, there is a kind of
intrepidity, of positive delight in danger, which the ideal scholar
might well be without, but which might be an excellent quality
in a soldier. Nobody can be too charitable, i.e. too desirous to
do good to his fellows ; but the positive longing for disagreeable
kinds of service exhibited by a man of the St. Francis type,
though an excellent and beautiful thing, is not a necessary part
of the ideal character. It is a quality which makes an excellent
Friar, but would be a disqualification for the career of a states-
man or a scholar. We should wish all men to have as much
goodwill for their fellows as St. Francis of Assisi ; we should
not wish them all to have the same liking for disagreeable duties
or the same dislike of learning. All good men must have some
love of humanity, but a special liking for the young or for the
old, a desire to save one's country collectively or to save indi-
vidual souls, a special zeal for Temperance or for Justice or for
the relief of suffering these are qualities which may be present
in a high or a small degree without the man being any the
better or worse than other men somewhat differently constituted.
A certain respect for knowledge or beauty is a characteristic of
the ideal good man, as also is a disposition to subordinate them
to the more imperative claims of Justice and Humanity. In
so far as men of the philanthropic type altogether lack such
respect, it must be pronounced a moral defect, though not
a breach of duty or a sin; in so far as its relative non-
development is merely incidental to the strength of the humani-
tarian impulse and the demands of a particular occupation, the
man with this defect is not morally worse than the man who is
without it. Indifference to human suffering in an Artist is a defect
of character; the ideal Artist would possess the potentiality
of caring for human suffering, which on proper occasions would
be called into activity. But an Artist might be habitually occu-
pied with the pursuit of his Art, his mind might be habitually
146 VOCATION [Book II
occupied with dreams of beauty and his will absorbed in realizing
them, while he was comparatively seldom occupied with reflecting
on human suffering or with efforts to relieve it, without being in
any wise a worse man, or even representing a lower type of
humanity, than the ideal Philanthropist.
We may thus recognize three meanings in the term character
when used in this connexion: (i) Character in the narrower
sense means the degree of a man's devotion to the good in
general. In this sense the ideal is the same for all. To be less
devoted to the good must always mean to be lower man, while to
fall below that measure of devotion to good which is necessary
to the performance of the man's particular vocation is to fail in
duty. (2) By character may be meant the possession of those
emotions, desires, tendencies to action, likings and dislikings which
we always recognize as good (irrespectively of any particular
occupation or course of life), a measure of which is demanded by
the true moral ideal for all men, but which may be present in very
different proportions without occasioning failure in duty, and
sometimes even without placing the man on a higher or lower
moral level. (3) Character may be held to include those qualities,
desires, inclinations, likings and dislikings, or more specialized
applications and developments of the more universal qualities,
which, though they may be good in themselves, are incompatible
with others equally good, and which, therefore, we do not recog-
nize it as good for all men to possess in all circumstances. Here
even the total absence of some qualities which we cannot deny
to possess high value may be compatible with the highest moral
excellence in the ordinary sense of the word ; that is to say, we
recognize that the defect has nothing to do with the will, though
for particular persons it may, of course, be a duty to seek to
overcome the defect.
That these three kinds of excellence run into one another, that
a high development of each of them presupposes some develop-
ment of the others, and so on, I not only do not want to deny
but should strongly assert. Any more exact account of them
would involve elaborate psychological analysis for which this is
not the place. The sole purpose of this enumeration is to draw
a distinction between a sense in which there is only one moral
Chap. iv,vi] UNIVERSAL AND PARTICULAR IDEALS 147
ideal and a sense in which there are many, all of them excellent
but to a greater or less degree incompatible with one another.
That devotion to the good or to duty which is the crowning
excellence of all is one and the same, however diverse are the
particular forms in which it manifests itself ; and some other
qualities and characters are so closely connected with this
devotion to the good in all its forms that no one could be alto-
gether without them, or could depart from a certain ideal balance
or proportion between them, without falling below the highest
ideal of humanity, though it is passible to fall below the highest
ideal of humanity without actual sin or failure in duty. As the
qualities assume more and more specialized forms, have less and
less connexion with that devotion to the good in general which
is incumbent upon all, become more and more dependent upon
intellectual and purely emotional (as distinct from moral) char-
acteristics, have more and more special reference to particular
circumstances of life and the specialized activities which corre-
spond with them, absolute or relative failure in some of them
becomes more and more compatible with high excellence of the
man on the whole. In the human ideal there are universal
elements and particular elements ; the ideal man must be a good
man in general, but on the other hand there is no such thing as
goodness in general which does not express itself in one or more
alternative types or specialized kinds of good activity. In each
of these types some common characteristics can be discovered,
but also some elements peculiar to itself. Nay more, since both
the natural endowments and the external circumstances of each
man are in some degree unlike those of any other man, there is
even, we may say, an ideal for each particular individual.
To deny either of these sides of the truth leads to exaggera-
tion and one-sidedness. To make the degree of a man's devotion
to the good in general the only thing that is excellent in human
character is to set up an empty abstraction a universal with no
particulars, to make into our ideal a universal man who is not
and cannot be a real man at all, to forget that devotion to good
in general can only be realized by devotion to some particular
kind of good in detail. Or at best it is to substitute an abstract
sense of duty for the human affections and emotions which are
L a
148 VOCATION [Book II
really better motives of conduct than a sense of duty which is
without love. On the other hand to deny absolutely that there is
any such thing as a single ideal for Humanity is virtually to deny
the objectivity of our moral judgements, or at the very least to
deny the unique value of Morality in the stricter sense the
supreme value of the rightly directed will, and of those more
universal qualities of character without which there cannot be
a rightly directed will in any man or in any circumstances.
Since Morality means contribution to the true good of Society, a
defective devotion to that good, and the absence of qualities which
impel to the promotion of it, could not be positively demanded in
the interests of true Well-being, and therefore could not in any
individual, however circumstanced, constitute no moral defect^
Plato seems to have hit the essential truth in this matter when
he demanded Justice of all, and a certain measure of the other
Virtues, while he insisted that the same measure or development
of them was not demanded of all men. This principle of the
specialization of character corresponding to a specialization of
social function must be carried much further than he carried it
so far indeed that we may perhaps regard it as probable that
for each man there is an ideal which is not exactly the same as
any other man's ideal ; and for Justice, as the one indispensable
and dominant Virtue for all, we should perhaps substitute a love
which may assume very varied forms, but which will always be a
love of Humanity which is also love of all that is good as such.
CHAPTEE V
MORAL AUTHORITY AND MORAL AUTONOMY.
WE have hitherto conducted our enquiry as though each man
actually arrived at his moral judgements by the independent
workings of his own moral consciousness, thinking out each
problem as it arises de novo in complete independence of his
fellows and their moral judgements. Now it is obvious that this
representation entirely fails to correspond with the facts. Every
individual finds himself from the earliest dawn of moral con-
sciousness a member of a society in which there are established
rules of conduct, standards of praise and blame, social institutions,
accepted models, recognized ideals. And the morality of the
society has been most emphatically enforced upon the individual
by all kinds of social pressure, ranging from actual or threatened
punishment down to the most faintly indicated ' disapproval ' or
the mere withholding of positive commendation.
The beginning of the process by which the individual becomes
indoctrinated with the ideals of his society is of course to be
found in the earliest education of children. The Intuitionism
which supposed that the young child finds written upon his con-
sciousness a ready-made code of right and wrong, the whole
content of the Ten Commandments or of the Ethics of Aristotle
or of the Sermon on the Mount, is an Intuitionism which, in
so far as it ever existed outside the imagination of utilitarian
critics, is a thing of the past. Without entering upon the
difficult question how far moral ideals or predispositions towards
them are matters of actual inheritance, it may confidently be
denied that a child deserted in the woods and suckled by wolves
would have any moral ideas at all, or that an English child
brought up by savages would, on attaining the age of twenty-one,
find himself in possession of the same moral ideas as his father
and mother. Nobody attains to his moral ideas without moral
education, and this education is more or less continued through-
150 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
out life. The difference between an Englishman's moral ideas
and a Chinaman's is enormous. There is a difference even between
the moral ideas of European nations on much the same plane of
civilization. There are very few Englishmen, even among the
highly educated (on whom the pressure of the immediate environ-
ment is weakened by familiarity with a wider range of moral
ideas through literature, itself of course a kind of social influence),
who can suppose that their moral ideas on all points would be
exactly what they are, had they lived entirely among French-
men from their earliest years. And with the great majority of
men the influence of the immediate environment is paramount.
Their dominant or operative ideal (though there may be some
higher view of life which shares the secret homage of their
hearts) is to a greater or less extent the morality of their school,
their class, their social circle, their profession, their neighbour-
hood.
Now in the admission that people come by their moral ideals
through education there is nothing whatever to encourage moral
scepticism, to encourage the doubt whether Morality is after all
anything more than what other people de facto think about our
conduct, the doubt whether there is such a thing as an absolute
Morality discernible by Reason. The discovery that men's
moral ideas are in a sense the result of education is often in
actual fact a very fruitful source of moral scepticism, both in
theory and in practice, but some moral scepticism is a necessary
condition of moral progress. It was the discovery of the fact
that the morality of the Persians was not quite the same as that
of the Greeks, nor the ideal of Sparta precisely that of Athens,
which originated the crude scepticism of certain Sophists, and
the theory that Justice was a matter of convention, not of Nature
(j/o/ma>, not </w<m), with which Plato does battle in the Republic.
But after all the necessity of moral education supplies no more
reason for thinking that Morality is purely arbitrary than the
fact that Mathematics have to be taught is any reason for doubt-
ing the truth of that Science. I do not, of course, suggest that
the influence of education upon moral ideas is precisely the
same in kind or in degree as the influence of education upon the
development of mathematical capacity. The Science of Mathe-
Chap, v, i] INFLUENCE OF EDUCATION 151
matics was, indeed, slowly developed, and that not by experience
in the ordinary sense of the word, but by mere thinking out of
the consequences of very simple, self-evident truths ; but it has to
be laboriously communicated to each individual who wishes to
become a Mathematician. So far the parallel is complete. But,
although people do not become Mathematicians without teaching,
they do all ultimately come to have the same mathematical ideas
if they have any mathematical ideas at all. Some men are
incapable of coming to see mathematical truths, but they seldom
attempt (though I should imagine that such cases might be
found l ) deliberately and consciously to deny what have become
accepted truths of Mathematics. Yet, even in Mathematics, it is
the consensus of practically all persons endowed with adequate
mathematical capacity who have seriously applied their minds to
the subject, that causes that Science to be accepted as the type of
scientific certainty an explanation which, however, is not com-
plete without the addition that the tests of adequate capacity
and adequate study are here simple and unmistakable. But the
moment we leave pure Mathematics and the physical Sciences
which have reached a mathematical form, this consensus of the
competent begins to disappear. Even in the less advanced
branches of physical Science, and in the higher reaches even of
the most advanced, there is room for wide difference of opinion ;
and be it observed, this difference is partly due to purely
intellectual causes, to the different degrees of intellectual insight,
lucidity of mind, logical power, observation and judgement
possessed by different men, but only partly. Even here in a
region comparatively remote from the great practical interests
which inspire passion and distort judgement every one knows
to what an enormous extent men's opinions are liable to be
swayed by such influences as personal loyalty, personal anta-
gonism, fashion, party spirit, caprice, carelessness, laziness,
ambition, conceit. Still more obviously do those influences the
1 As for instance when Hobbes, finding * almost all geometers' against him
in his controversy with Wallis, declared that * either I alone am mad, or I
alone am not mad ; other alternative there is none, unless, perchance, some
one may say that we are all mad together ' (quoted by G. Groom Robertson
in Hobbes, FhiL Classics for Eng. Readers, p. 183).
15* AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
influence of the environment on the one hand and the ' personal
equation ' on the other mould men's views upon such matters as
speculative Philosophy, History, Social Science, Politics. And
yet, in these departments of knowledge nobody seriously doubts
that there is a truth to be found, and that it is discoverable by
a proper use of the intellectual faculties which we possess, or
supposes that there is any remedy for these defects of our
thinking, any infallible criterion by which to distinguish truth
from prejudice, except a further, more thorough, more conscien-
tious use of the very facilities whose limitations we acknowledge.
In so far as the differences of ethical opinion turn upon the
question of the right means to be adopted with a view to a given
end, this difference is of exactly the same kind as differences of
opinion on any matter of common life. The fact that people
at one time did not see the wrongness of indiscriminate charity
could hardly be supposed to weaken our confidence in the validity
of moral judgements, any more than the Science of Heat is dis-
credited by the fact that the steam engine is a modern invention.
But when we turn to the question of ends, there are special
reasons why in this matter, more than in many others, differences
of opinion should be peculiarly frequent and why one man's
opinion should be emphatically not as good as another's.
Although the power of judging of moral value is, I believe,
essentially an intellectual faculty, it is a highly special intel-
lectual faculty. Sensitiveness to the moral ugliness of drunken-
ness or impurity or appreciation of the moral beauty of un-
selfishness are qualities which vary in different individuals to
an enormous extent. And these differences of moral insight, like
the differences of aesthetic appreciation, by no means correspond
with differences of general intellectual capacity. Like the power
of musical appreciation, it appears to be almost wanting in some
individuals not destitute of high intellectual powers. Moreover,
intellectual as it is, its actual exercise is, as I have endeavoured
to show 1 , largely conditioned by the emotional capacity and the
emotional development of the individual. The judgement
* Suffering ought to be relieved ' might indeed be made on purely
intellectual grounds by one who had little or no sympathy with
1 Cf. above, Bk. I, ch. vi, p. 154 sq.
Chap, v, i] INDEPENDENCE IMPLIES EDUCATION 153
suffering. But in practice the clearness with which this truth
has beenseen,and the intensity of conviction with which it has been
accepted, depend at least as much upon the emotional as upon the
intellectual endowments of the race or the generation or the
individual. Moreover, to a great extent, our moral judgements
are judgements upon the intrinsic value of certain kinds of
feeling, and in these cases the judgement of value cannot be
made unless the feeling is actually felt, except so far as a man
may (on account of some inferred analogy with what he has
felt) judge that a certain feeling in another deserves respect, even
though he may not chance to experience it himself, or may condemn
it on account of its incompatibility with a feeling which he has
felt and values. Here again differences between the emotional
capacity of different individuals affect the value of their ethical
judgement. Not only do the indi viduaPs powers of correct ethical
judgement vary, but, except in those in whom this power is strong
and in the particular directions in which it is strong, these
judgements of value (like aesthetic judgements) are peculiarly
liable to be swayed by the judgements of others, and by the
influence of those emotions and associations through which the
judgements of others appeal to us. It should be observed that
some moral or aesthetic capacity is actually presupposed in this
sympathetic influence, and there are limits to the extent of such
influence. A man who really does not know what Beauty is, will
probably not be induced by the ipse dixit of the connoisseur to
grow enthusiastic, unless it be as a piece of conscious hypocrisy,
over the work of some fashionable school. It is the man of dim,
confused, undeveloped aesthetic perceptions, who will grow into
an admiration for what he is told to admire. He may be induced
to admire what is less worthy of admiration, and to depreciate
what is more worthy ; but he could not be induced to admire
that which possesses no merit or beauty whatever. He would be
imposed upon by a fairly good copy of an Old Master, but not
by an execrably bad one. It is just the same in the moral sphere :
only here the modifying influence of environment is multiplied
a thousand-fold by all the influences, the emotions (some of them
of high moral worth), even the moral principles which link us to
our fellow men.
154 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
There is another important difference between moral and other
judgements. Not only is the power of judging rightly as to
ultimate moral values dependent upon a faculty distinguishable
from a man's general intellectual capacity, but it is to a large
extent dependent upon the degree in which his will responds to
those judgements. That moral discernment is the outcome of
a habit of moral action was the theory of Aristotle. No doubt
it is much more possible than Aristotle supposed to judge well,
not merely about means but about moral ends or ideals, and to
act badly ; but it remains true that to a large extent the power
of moral intuition may be improved or impaired by our voluntary
conduct, and therefore the truth of men's moral judgements
depends not merely upon insight, but upon character. Here we
have an additional source of inequality in men's powers of dis-
cerning between right and wrong.
In view of all these facts, it must appear that the attempt on
the part of the individual to think out his moral code a priori,
in entire independence of his environment, is an impracticable one,
and one which would be disastrous, if it were practicable l . That
this is so with the great mass of men is sufficiently obvious.
They have not the knowledge, the experience, the leisure to trace
out all the advantages and disadvantages of conflicting courses
of action, whether in detailed circumstances or with regard to
general principles of conduct. They could not have become
moral beings at all without moral education ; and yet that moral
education has been gradually unfitting them for the impartial
exercise either of their ordinary understanding in dealing with
means or of their moral Reason in choosing ends. They can only
have learned to approve and disapprove by actually approving or
disapproving particular things, and such approval or disapproval
has been making it more and more difficult for them to approve
J Dr. McTaggart writes : * Nothing can be more important to me, in
respect of any branch of knowledge, than my own immediate certainties
about it. Nothing can be less important than the immediate certainties of
other people ' (Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, p. 72). But surely even in
other branches of knowledge than Ethics a man may have to rely on other
people's immediate certainties e.g. a dyer or a Physicist investigating the
cause of colour might well consult an Artist who would see shades of difference
in colour which he could not perceive himself.
Chap, v, i] NECESSITY OF PRIVATE JUDGEMENT 155
or disapprove something markedly different. Other men's moral
judgements, sympathetically appropriated by them, have given
a bias to their emotions, and the emotions have reacted upon
their judgement. It may be suggested that, on attaining years
of discretion, the individual would do well to emancipate himself
from the distorting influence of his social environment, and
school himself into thinking entirely for himself on moral
questions. And to some extent this is no doubt desirable ; but,
if it were done completely, the individual would be thereby
withdrawing himself from the school in which alone Virtue is
teachable. Once more the aesthetic analogy may help us. It is
only by studying great Masters that a man can himself become an
Artist ; and that study implies that he is submitting himself to
influences which are moulding his taste and judgement, which
are every moment limiting in certain directions his power of
impartially and independently judging between their ideals and
other ideals. And yet without such education he would never
acquire any power of independent judgement at all 1 .
1 Von Hartmann, with his accustomed ethical insight, recognizes that the
ordinary Morality of the average man is not and cannot be ' reine Autonomie
noch reine Heteronomie' but 'eine Konkurrenz beider,' and that in the
average individual intrinsic moral activity must necessarily present itself in
the form of an external rule which represents an autonomous Morality in the
community to which he belongs: such Morality is ' nur fiir das Individuum
als solches eine Heteronomie, aber fur das ganze Volk als Individuum hflherer
Ordnung betrachtet ist sie Autonomie, nanilich ein Integral aus alien auto-
noinsittlichen Individualwillensakten ' (Ethische Studien, pp. no, 114). At
the same time he strongly insists upon Autonomy as the ideal. In much that
is said in some quarters about Heteronomy and Autonomy there seems to be
a certain confusion between two senses of the word. A man's will may be
autonomous enough to satisfy Kant himself, although in some of the details
of Morality he defers to the judgement of others. Nobody but a lunatic
refuses to accept the judgement of others in matters of which he knows
nothing : and nobody can have an independent judgement in every depart-
ment of conduct. It is only when we come to the most general principles of
Morality that lack of Autonomy necessarily implies a low level of personal
Morality. A man is not the less moral because he allows Church or State
to decide for him the morality of marrying his deceased wife's sister ; though
he would be an undeveloped moral being if his respect for unselfishness were
wholly based upon authority. If this be denied, it can only be in the sense
that absolutely ideal Morality would imply an ideally complete intellectual
development.
156 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
Are we then to condemn the attempt to think for oneself in
moral matters ? Are we to say that a man must simply submit
himself wholly and unreservedly to the maxims, the traditions,
the ideals of the society in which he finds himself ? A moment's
reflection is enough to negative the suggestion. A principal
object of moral education is to form the habit of judging for
oneself. The ancient philosopher who most emphasized the
necessity of moral education by habituation insisted no leas
strongly that the moral education was not complete until the
man had come to see and appreciate for himself the reason,
the ground, the principle of the maxims which he at first
accepted on authority 1 . And if the man's moral education has
been a success, if he really has been taught to use his moral
Reason, it cannot invariably stop in its exercise at the exact
point which would prevent the deliverances of his own moral
consciousness coming into collision with those of his moral in-
structors. The majority of men, of course, are not likely to rise
on the whole far above the moral ideal of their society ; but, if
we do not confound Morality with the mere observance of a few
traditional, and for the most part negative, maxims of conduct, it
is clear that very ordinary men must have some moral originality
or individuality. A man who thought and felt with the majority
on every detail of life and conduct would be, as nearly as it is
possible to be, a man without a character. And it is precisely to
the men in whom moral education has been most successful, who
have absorbed most completely all that was best in the teaching
and example by which they were educated, that there are most
certain to come moments at which they are impelled to question
the teaching they have received ; and to apply the principles
which they have imbibed to the criticism of those principles them-
selves, or to carry them out into applications not dreamed of by
those from whom they learned them. Moral innovations of this
sort may of course take a great variety of forms. Sometimes
there will be a violent reaction against morals that have been
taught ; and yet the greatest of moral revolutionaries have owed
not less to their environment than the most rigid traditionalists.
The environment of Athens produced Socrates as much as it
1 Aristotle, Ethic. Nicomach., VI. 12 (p. 1144 a).
Uhap. v, ij AUTUJNUMY AND FKOUKESS 157
produced the Sophists. Ruskin appeared to his average con-
temporaries from one point of view as a dangerous reactionary,
from another as a dangerous revolutionary. And yet Ruskin
can easily be shown to owe as much to an early Victorian
education as Macaulay. The most violent reaction often owes
much to the ideas against which it reacts, and the reaction in
turn often contains within itself the germs of the most startling
revolutions. And in more ordinary cases moral improvement
takes place through the expansion, the development, the intensifi-
cation, the fresh application of principles already acknowledged,
the clearer vision of truths of which there have been already
at least many glimpses.
It is not necessary for our present purpose to analyse further
the nature of these new stages in moral progress. Sometimes
the innovation is a purely intellectual discovery, a recognition
that such and such a principle must necessarily lead to such
and such a consequence, or that such and such an end could
be best attained by some hitherto undreamed-of means ; some-
times it is an emendation of the fundamental axioms (so to
speak) of moral thought, as when the civic morality of the
Hellene or the tribal morality of the Jew is supplanted by
a comprehensive principle of universal Benevolence ; sometimes
it is some signal increase of the emotional intensity with which
a quite accepted principle is realized ; sometimes it is the revision
of the values recognized in ultimate ends or elements of Well-
being, as when it is seen that a stricter restraint of appetite
than pagan Ethics required is better worth having than its
indulgence, or that Christian Humility (properly understood) is
more beautiful than the self-assertion of Aristotle's jxeyaActyvxos.
To tie the individual down to absolute acquiescence in the judge-
ments of his predecessors or his contemporaries would be to put
a stop to the possibility of moral progress. To tell the man of
the least gifted moral nature that he is never to think for
himself about what he ought to do would be to doom him to
moral stagnation or sterility. Mr. Bradley (who seems rarely
to touch upon practical matters without violent and obvious
exaggeration) has laid it down that for a man ' to wish to be
better than the world is to be already on the threshold of
158 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
immorality 1 / It would be truer to say that the man who is
content to be as moral as his neighbours has already passed
considerably beyond that threshold. Would not any one who
really supposed that at all times ' wisdom and virtue consist in
living agreeably to the Ethos of one's country ' inevitably have
voted for the condemnation of Socrates, and have joined the
crowd which shouted ' Crucify him, crucify him ' ?
II
How, then, are we to adjust these two principles the prin-
ciple of moral authority and the principle of private judgement,
both in their way essential to a sound Morality in society and in
individuals? At the earlier stages of moral development the
question can never arise ; for to a large extent the influence of
the Authority is unconscious : to question it already implies the
first stage of emancipation. Authority achieves its most com-
plete success when it is no more felt as Authority than we are
directly aware of the pressure which the atmosphere is at every
moment exercising upon our bodies. But if we suppose a child
or a man who has arrived at the stage of intellectual and moral
development at which he is capable of asking, ' How far should
I obey Authority in Ethics ? ' we should have to say to him just
what we should have to say to a man who asked, ' How far am
I to rely upon Authority in matters of historical criticism or of
aesthetic judgement ? ' In the latter case, for instance, we should
tell him, * You must begin by accepting provisionally the judge-
ment of the best guide you can find. If you begin to paint
Nature without the assistance of those who have studied Nature
before you, it is unlikely that you will ever paint better than
some crude predecessor of Cimabue. On the other hand, if you
try to form your taste by studying all the pictures that you
1 Ethical Studies, p. 180. Elsewhere Mr. Bradley quotes with approval
Hegel's commendation of a purely particularistic morality (ib. p. 169) :
' Hence the wisest men of antiquity have given judgement that wisdom and
virtue consist in living agreeably to the Ethos of one's people.* This nearly
approaches the doctrine of Kirchmann (' Jedes Volk muss sein Sittliches fiir
ein Unbedingtes und Unveranderliches halten '\ against whom von Hartmann
polemizes as the typical representative of the * moral principle of Hetero-
nomy ' (Das sittliche Bewmstsein, p. 63).
Chap, v, ii] LIMITS OF AUTONOMY 159
come across without allowing your judgement to be warped by
the suggestion that you will probably find the best pictures in
the National Gallery, you would be in great danger of never
finding your way to Trafalgar Square at all. And even at
Trafalgar Square it is not every boy or man who would learn
to think the Old Masters better than an average English
Academician if he had never been told that they were generally
so considered. But it is in vain to suppose that in following
this course you will not have contracted a bias. The greatest of
the great Masters show the influence of their teachers. But in
course of time you will learn from your chosen guides them-
selves, in proportion as you have chosen them well and in
proportion as you are capable of learning it, how gradually to
correct that bias, and to judge for yourself what is beautiful.
You will give up your reliance upon Authority just where
and in so far as you see reason to suspect that your chosen
guides were wrong, and that you are more likely to be right/
There are, indeed, differences between Morality and other
matters which tend to increase the necessity of caution in
attempting to strike out a new line in practical Ethics.
I have already emphasized the much greater liability of moral
as compared with other judgements to be distorted by our
private passions and wishes ; and this is a consideration which
may recommend Green's useful maxim that, while a man may
not go far wrong in imposing on himself some new restraint
which is not generally recognized by his contemporaries, he
ought to hesitate very much longer before he allows himself
any indulgence which the accepted Morality condemns. Wo
must likewise bear in mind the very much greater importance
of such innovations in Morality as compared with judgements
on mere matters of opinion. The publication of a new theory
may aid the progress of Science even when it is ultimately
refuted ; the harm which may be done by a word lightly spoken
against accepted moral standards may be great, even when the
particular scruple which is derided may chance to be a baseless
one ; though we have also to remember the tendency which un-
necessary restrictions have to weaken men's respect for those
which are necessary, particularly when the unnecessary restraint
160 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
is no longer really approved by the consciences of those on whom
they are imposed. It is not every occasion on which we fail to see
the reason of some established rule, or even every occasion on which
we think we see a reason against it, that calls upon us to break
the commandment and teach men so l . Just the same considera-
tions which make it a duty in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred
to obey a law even if we think it pernicious may often make it
a duty to fall in with some social convention which we think
irrational. There are many matters in which it is of more impor-
tance that there should be a rule universally accepted and obeyed
than that the rule should be the best possible. This is, of course,
the case with the great mass of petty matters regulated by the
etiquette of Society, or the custom of nation or class, or, again,
with matters so fundamental that they can only be altered by a
legal or social revolution. Sometimes, even when we think the
rule pernicious, there may be many circumstances in which the evil
consequences of compliance are less than those of non-compliance.
We are bound, again, to take account of established moralities,
even when we ourselves feel it a duty to protest against them.
We may feel that the evil of gambling makes it desirable that
even moderate playing for money should be banished from
respectable society ; but, till the rule is established, we are not
justified in treating a man who breaks it as an offender against
acknowledged Morality or good manners. It is impossible to
define the degrees of clearness and conviction on our part which
will make it a duty to violate some established rule of our
society. It is only important to insist that the ultimate
standard of right and wrong should be the individual's own,
and that he should exercise his own moral judgement even when
he ultimately decides that respect for some authority compels him
1 Simmel, a by no means conservative Moralist, has pointed out how,
through association with acts really immoral, the doing of acts merely con-
ventionally wrong may produce upon the consciousness of the agent all the
effects of real wrongdoing and so lead to real moral deterioration (Einleitung,
II, p. 406 sq.). The fact may be used on both sides as a warning both
against lightly disturbing accepted rules of conduct, and against binding
unnecessary burdens upon Consciences which do not really acknowledge
their obligation, though they may not be sufficiently clear-sighted deliberately
to repudiate them.
Chap, v, iii] THE CONFLICT OF IDEALS 161
to act otherwise than he would do if he had no such authority
before his eyes. And that brings me to a consideration which
has hitherto been left out of account a consideration of vital im-
portance, which is, however, too generally neglected in discussions
as to the relation between the society and the individual in the
sphere of Ethics.
Ill
I have hitherto written as though each individual found
himself a member of a single homogeneous ' society ' confronted
with some one clearly defined, universally accepted moral code
or ideal, professed and more or less practised by every member
of that society (subject to modification only by his own personal
and individual aberrations), commended to his acceptance equally
in all its parts by the united weight of that society's authority,
and enforced upon him by its 'social sanctions/ In practice
we know that this is very partially the case. In a very primitive
tribe, or within the limits of an Indian caste, there may be some
approach to such a concentration of social Authority ; in such
societies there may be found a single standard of conduct,
unanimously accepted, and in its more important articles
enforced with such uniformity that transgression of established
custom is almost unknown. But such is not the case at any
more advanced stage of moral development. Least of all does
this representation correspond with the circumstances of any
modern man in any civilized modern community ; in any such
society there is not one moral ideal but many ideals, more or less
exalted, more or less conflicting. It is not merely that different
individuals have different ideals ; there is in truth no such
single ' society ' as is contemplated by the conventional way of
speaking. The individual is not a member of one ' society,'
but of a network of (if we may so say) interlacing ' societies/
each of which has its far more or less clearly defined and more
or less peremptorily enforced ideal. The schoolboy is a member
of one society called his family ; the adult outside world is for
him largely represented by his Schoolmaster ; through literature
he is brought into connexion not with one but with a number of
more or less harmonious, more or less discordant moral worlds ;
BA1HDALL II M
162 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
while he is also the member of a society with a quite distinct
ideal of its own, an ideal forced upon his attention with far
more peremptory insistence than either of the former i. e. the
society of his schoolfellows ; and even here there may be
a collision between the ideals of many conflicting sets or strata
of school society. These considerations are of importance for
our subject in several ways. On the one hand, it should be
observed that the environment which exercises the maximum of
social pressure upon the individual is generally the immediate
environment. Now the moral level of this environment may be
considerably below that of the surrounding society, and yet its
'sanctions' are enormously more powerful. The only public
opinion that matters much to an unmarried officer is that of
his mess, and there is no guarantee that the public opinion of
a mess will be up to the level even of that entirely vague
and indefinite ' public opinion* which is supposed to exist in
Society at large. Moreover, in certain particular points and
respects the public opinion of a man's immediate society is
nearly always paradoxical as it may appear below the level
of that of the surrounding society. For the public opinion of
each of the particular groups of which Society is composed is
likely to be weakest precisely on those points on which for that
particular group the temptation is strongest. The opinion of
the 'general public' on the subject of adulteration and tricks
of trade is sound enough; but what practically presents itself
as public opinion to the average grocer is the public opinion of
grocers, or at most of tradesmen at large. The general public
condemns in the clergy the practice of preaching sermons stolen
wholesale without acknowledgement, and taking credit for their
originality ; it is among the clergy that the condemnation of it,
though not non-existent, is least strong. In many cases the
public opinion of a man's own particular group is absolutely
opposed to the interests and to the public opinion of the wider
society around. It is probable, of course, that every member of
this smaller group is more or less aware of the wider opinion ;
and this wider public opinion will often present itself as an ideal
which his own higher self respects, however little he may seek
to live up to it. But still it is the lower and narrower ideal
Chap, v, iii] PUBLIC OPINION NOT SUPREME 163
that is most conspicuously illustrated by the conduct of a man's
' neighbours/ and to which the ' sanctions ' of public opinion
are for the most part attached. It is this fact which renders
so futile the Utilitarian attempt to find in public opinion a
' sanction ' which will identify the interest of the individual
with the interest of the whole, and which renders so deeply
immoral (if it is to be taken seriously) the teaching of ' ideal
Morality ' when it bids a man take as his ultimate moral
criterion the average practice of his neighbours not (be it
observed) the ideal of his neighbours, but their actual practice.
The truth is that Philosophers like Mr. Bradley habitually write
about Ethics as though the average man were perfectly moral, that
is to say the average man of the * respectable* classes, for they seem
usually to leave out of account the most numerous class of their
fellow citizens. It is the man who reads the Times or the
respectable shopkeeper who always does duty for ' the plain man '
in practical matters, though (in Mr. Bradley's own case) this
apotheosis of middle- class respectability jostles oddly enough
with pleas for very startling innovations or revisions in certain
departments of Morality. Now this way of representing the
moral life is not merely defective ; it betrays a want of sympathy
with all efforts after anything higher than the conventional ideal,
with all forms of moral enthusiasm, with all intenser forms of
moral life in every age with the more enthusiastic Christianity
of past or present, with the heroism of Russian revolutionaries,
with what is best in socialistic or labour movements nearer
home. It misrepresents and caricatures that moral life of the
average man which it affects to find so satisfactory. For
that average man is deeply conscious for the most part of a
higher ideal than that which is realized in his habitual conduct.
His conduct would fall below the level which it actually attains
if it were not for the partial and occasional influence of the ideal
with which his higher self identifies itself : and yet it is not the
strivings of the higher self so much as its defeats which most
obviously force themselves upon the notice of any one who is
prepared to take average practice as representative of the
average man's ideal and therefore of his own. The public
opinion of our neighbours is not the source of what is best in
M 2
1 64 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
the lives of most men: for those who are really struggling
towards the light * the world ' often becomes synonymous with
all that is evil. It is the public opinion of the immediate
environment which is practically most important to a man, and
that public opinion often assumes the form of persecution in its
dealings with the individual who aims at an ideal higher than
its own, all the more because it is secretly conscious that it is
higher and truer than its own *.
The average man is thus normally more or less conscious of,
and more or less influenced by, an ideal or ideals higher than
that of ' his neighbour's ' average performance. But it is none
the less important to remember that this ideal is as much a social
ideal as the other. The Conscience that accepts it, with whatever
degree of clearness and consistency whether as the deliberately
chosen rule of life, or with distant homage as an ideal almost
too high for daily practice, or with confused and intermittent
allegiance is not indeed the passive reflection of other people's
opinions which it is represented to be by those who insist most
upon the social origin of our moral ideals ; for (as we have seen)
it is only a consciousness that has in it some power of recogniz-
ing right and wrong for itself that is capable of education by
Society. But still it is a Conscience moulded and educated by
Society. Its ideal is for the most part though not without
more or less of modification through the independent exercise of
the individual's trained faculty of moral judgement an ideal built
up for it by a society, and received from a social environment.
But it is an ideal deliberately chosen and selected by the indivi-
dual from a number of competing social ideals. Take any person
whose actual conduct is in some particular markedly above the
level professed and the practice of his immediate surroundings
the schoolboy who stands out against the all but universal bad
custom sanctioned by the school opinion, the trader who is
impoverished by his honesty, the member of a worldly family
1 'Each little society, distinguished from the background of universal
humanity by reason of certain ideas and endeavours that are common to its
members, represents a social will, which has all the characteristics of an
independent reality, in that it operates as a self-active force both on the
individuals comprising it and on the regions of life above it* (Wundt, Ethics,
B. T., Ill, p. 36).
Chap, v, iii] SOCIAL ORIGIN OF IDEALS 165
who gives himself or herself to good works. In most cases you
could definitely tell where this apparently isolated individual
has got his ideal from. No doubt in many cases he has, in a
sense, got it from the very persons who commended it so little
by their habitual maxims or their usual practice. For mere
ordinary common sense may be sufficient to detect the inconsis-
tency of the schoolboy who is indignant enough against other
kinds of falsehood or deceit but introduces an illogical exception
in favour of ' cribbing ' : the dishonest trader has himself
denounced the corruption of government officials : the worldly
mother may herself have taught her children that it is good to be
charitable to the poor. But if there is really nothing in the
immediate environment to suggest the higher ideal, the social
source of the ideal could still in general be traced in the wider
environment. In most cases it could be discovered in an actual
personal or social influence a teacher, a friend, a social group, or
a ' movement ' with which the person has been in some kind of
contact, a book, a preacher, or the higher ideal to which the
dullest, the deadest, the most conventional worship bears witness.
Even where the individual seems most completely cut off from
the society in which the highest ideal is formally professed or
actively lived out, there is still through education or literature
some contact with a wider environment. The most 'secular 1
education can hardly keep the pupil in entire ignorance of a
literature that is steeped in Christian ideas: the most mun-
dane circles read newspapers which communicate a knowledge of
the existence of human suffering and of active efforts to relieve it.
The individual Conscience, however active, still almost in-
variably finds its highest ideal, or at least the suggestion of its
highest ideal, not in any actually new creation of its own, but
in an ideal already active in some other soul, more or less
realized in other lives, more or less accepted by some actual
society of human beings. If any doubt remain on this matter,
one may point to the fact that the most original moral
teachers nevertheless generally betray the source of their moral
inspiration. No doubt the very existence of an absolute moral
truth which human Reason has the faculty (more or less of it in
different individuals) of discerning for itself implies that those
j66 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
in whom the faculty is most active should exhibit some tendency
towards an approximation in quite independent moral judge-
ments. Nothing is more childish than to assume that every
coincidence between the teaching of early Christianity and some
other literature shows that one borrowed from the other. But
still in the emphasis which is laid on this or that aspect of
Morality, in the form which is given to their moral theory, in
the more subtle and delicate tones of character, the men of
highest moral genius and strongest moral faculty will still show
the influence of the social ideal by which their own moral
capacity has been evoked. To say nothing of the broad contrast
between Hellenic and modern civilization, the best men even
within the pale of civilized Christendom rarely fail to show
where they got their ideals. The ideals of the best Roman
Catholics and of the best Protestants approximate to each other
much more closely than those of the worst in each faith, but
they are never the same. The difference remains even where
the strictly theological side of Christianity has been abandoned.
Comte's ideal was Catholicism without Christianity : Carlyle's
was Puritanism without its Theology. The difference remains
even in the mast powerful, the most individual, the most erratic
of moral natures. The ideas of Count Tolstoi are steeped in a
Christianity which is palpably Eastern, ascetic, half Manichean.
IV
And yet all this talk about the social character of our moral
ideas and the social education of the moral conscientiousness
must not blind us to the fact that after all the sole ultimate
source of moral truth is the immediate affirmation of the
individual moral consciousness. No matter how widely diffused
a moral idea may have now become, it was once probably the
judgement of an individual at variance with the whole of bis
environment. No doubt when an idea is ' in the air ' as we say,
it seems to have occurred to a great many minds at once with-
out any one of them owing it to the others ; and, when that is so,
each of those minds must have been itself working (to whatever
extent it went beyond the accepted standard or the new sugges-
tion received from outside) independently of any other mind.
Chap, v, iv] MORAL CAPACITY UNEQUAL 167
But quite as often the individual was at first a vox clamantw in
deserto to the people immediately around him, though other
scattered individuals were at the same moment thinking much
the same thoughts. Minds may react on one another, but there
must be action first or there can be no reaction. No doubt some
great steps of moral progress do take place in a spontaneous,
collective way in which it is scarcely possible to trace the con-
tributions of individual minds. This is usually the case with
the later phases of great movements. But the greatest of all moral
revolutions have definitely originated with the conscious work
of an individual mind l , and at all events they originate with the
few, not with the many. It is of fundamental importance to
recognize the unequal distribution of moral capacity. The men
of moral genius are few, and yet it is to them that we owe what
now passes for the accepted moral code or ideal of Society. The
power of recognizing a moral truth when it is once pointed out
is much more widely diffused than the power of independently
discovering it, just as the power of recognizing and appreciating
good music is more widely diffused than the power of composing it.
And yet even this power of recognizing and appropriating moral
truth is by no means uniformly diffused. Some measure of it is
probably possessed by nearly every human being, though there
may conceivably be such a thing as actual moral insanity even
where there is no general insanity ; and there probably exist large
1 Wundt is one of the few formal writers on Ethics who, in talking
about 'society/ do not forget the 'enormous importance of leading minds,'
in the formation of the moral code. 'In the totality of psychical develop-
ment all individual wills have not the same importance. . . . Hence a theory
like Hegel's historical philosophy, which regards the social will as the sole
objective ethical force, and holds that the function of the individual will is
merely an unconscious partaking in and fulfilment of the social will, is
an exceedingly partial view of the truth. Such a theory is a complete
antithesis to the equally one-sided individualism of the preceding centuries *
(Ethics, E. T., Ill, pp. 34-5). So again : ' the majority of individual wills
represent the passive and receptive element ; the real force that occasions
every alteration and transformation [of social institutions] being exerted
by the leading minds. The original, creative intellectual power is thu
always the individual will* (ib., p. 36). All this is the more significant
inasmuch as Wundt goes to the verge of mysticism in recognizing the
'reality ' of the social will.
168 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
numbers of people in whom the capacity, though existing, has
never actually been awakened l . But the higher degrees of moral
susceptibility are the possession of the few. When an ideal or
a moral rule is said to be accepted by a society (in so far as any
beyond the most negative and elementary conditions of social
life ever are accepted by so heterogeneous a society as a modern
nation), it is accepted with infinitely various degrees of indepen-
dence and of intensity. It is often only the few whose moral
consciousness actually sees the truth of the ideal for itself ; the
many accept it on authority from the many, and this acceptance
may vary from a clear and whole-hearted recognition to a mere
reluctant acquiescence which commands obedience only in so far
as the rule or ideal is enforced by an adequate sanction.
This unequal distribution of moral faculty prevails as regards
all the various elements of which the moral faculty (in its wider
sense) is composed the purely intellectual power of applying
means to ends or of applying a principle to the particular case,
the power of discerning and realizing universal moral truths, the
capacity for pronouncing the judgement of comparative value in
the concrete case, the capacity for those various kinds of emotion
which are the condition of our passing those judgements. But
it is especially and pre-eminently in the power of comparing
the moral value of the various elements of our Well-being, and
most of all in duly appreciating the higher of those elements,
that this inequality is at its greatest. It is here that the
acquiescence of the many in the accepted moral standards is
most obviously due to the influence of Authority. The great
majority of men in a modern community really do believe not
very consciously or analytically, nor with very profound depth
of conviction or emotional fervour but still do see for them-
selves that it is good to promote the Well-being of Society, or at
all events to avoid what is grievously detrimental to it ; and
they have no difficulty in recognizing that Well-being includes
health and food, clothing, shelter and the like. But when
we come to the intrinsic value of intellectual goods, how
far can this be said to be actively recognized by the majority
1 Aristotle recognized the existence of men nfrrrjpupwoi npbs ap<rf)v (Eth.
Nfc. I. 9, p. 1099 b).
Chap, v, iv] INFLUENCE OF AUTHORITY 169
even of fairly educated persons? There is a more or less
distinct feeling that the more intellectual kinds of amuse-
ment are better than the coarser or more sensual perhaps not
much more. Certainly the idea of serious study (except when
directly ' useful ') is a common subject of open derision in much
society which is supposed to consist of educated men. Many of
our professional teachers are constantly enforcing the unimpor-
tance of intellectual culture in comparison with athletic exercises
and a certain boyishness of demeanour which they call manliness.
The judgement that study is good is one which is not actually
made except by a small number of intellectual persons, and not
by all of them. The influence of the minority which believes
in such things is (in many circles) only just sufficient to prevent
a life devoted to such pursuits (at least when unpaid) being
treated as positively immoral and this, perhaps, only because
* public opinion ' has hardly yet risen to the point of treating any
form of idle life as immoral. By the narrower religionists a life
of study is often explicitly condemned. When we come to
the intuitive judgements on which the duties of Purity and
strict Temperance are based, who shall say what proportion of
men really see for themselves the moral value of the good
implied, the moral worthlessness of the pleasures condemned?
And what proportion of those who acknowledge and who
practise these virtues would judge the same apart from the
influence of the authority by which they were commended ?
In the vast majority of cases in which these virtues are practised
there is, no doubt, a consciousness of the moral obligation which
goes far beyond mere submission to an externally imposed rule ;
in the vast majority of those who do not even aim at practising
these duties, and who would loudly protest to themselves and
to others that they ' see no harm ' in disobedience, there is
probably an uneasiness of Conscience which is much more than
a mere consciousness that their conduct would be condemned by
their stricter contemporaries. But it is probable, also, that in
these cases the dimmer intuitions of the many are in a peculiar
degree dependent for their own existence, and for the influence
which they exert upon conduct, upon the clearer and more
powerful intuitions of the few.
i;o AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
That the more obvious moral problems are already settled for
the individual by the accepted rules of his country, or class, or
profession, and that it is, as a rule, not wise for the average man
to transgress these universally accepted rules, will be generally
admitted by all but the very fanatics of moral 'Autonomy. 1
But it is often forgotten that it is only in the region of the most
elementary Morality that there is this universal consensus. It
is agreed that a man should earn his living if he has no c private
means ' ; that he should support his wife and children, and not
ill-treat them; that he should pay his debts, with a possible
exception in favour of persons of very exalted social rank ; that
he should keep the letter of the seventh commandment (some-
times with a similar reservation) ; that he should not tell any
lies or practise any dishonesties except those sanctioned by the
customs of his class or profession. That is almost as far as this
accepted morality of the community will carry him. But when
he gets beyond this, it is often assumed (so far as it is admitted
that any further morality is desirable, or even allowable) that
the individual who is anxious to do his duty should fall back
upon the unassisted deliverances of his own moral conscious-
ness. It is forgotten that, just as it is only by the ordinary
discipline of social life that the Conscience of the individual is
educated up to the low minimum standard which receives
a pretty general recognition, so it is only by a higher social
education by contact with characters, ideals, socially accepted
standards of a higher type that he can hope to carry his
own moral education further. The mere preaching of the rule
'Obey your Conscience/ as the whole duty of man, tends to
make men satisfied with their actual performance, and to
obscure the duty of educating the Conscience. It is often for-
gotten, even by people who are conscious of the existence of
a higher standard of conduct than their average performance,
and are not without desire to rise above it, that they are only
likely to come nearer to their own ideal by seeking to elevate
the ideal itself. For practical purposes, the process of educating
the will to more faithful obedience to Conscience, and that of
Chap, v, v] MORAL SELF-CULTURE 171
increasing the sensitiveness of Conscience itself, are, if not
actually identical, at least very closely connected. More than
this I must not say as to the practical importance of a due
recognition of the necessity of what we may call the higher
education of Conscience. I must be content with pointing out
certain corollaries in the region of strict ethical theory which
flow from what has been said as to the influence of Authority on
ethical ideals and ethical practice :
(i) There is a whole group of duties which hardly find a place
in most recognized classifications, the duties which may be com-
prehensively included under the duty of moral self-culture.
This will include the duty of doing all the things which the
individual has reason to believe (from his own experience or his
knowledge of other people's experience) will tend to elevate
his moral ideals, enlighten and strengthen his moral judgement,
cultivate and discipline the emotions in the way most favourable
to the growth of high ideals of his duty, and to the influence
of those ideals upon his will. For the believer in any form of
Religion, this duty will include worship of the kind dictated
by that faith, and all religious practices which really tend in
the direction indicated; for the non-believer they will include
whatever forms of self-examination, meditation or reflection,
instruction or association with persons influenced by the same
ideas and pursuing the same ideals as himself may have
been found morally beneficial by such persons. Some of the
forms of Comte's ritual may fairly excite a smile ; but he
ought not to be ridiculed for recognizing that disbelief in
Theology (whether well founded or otherwise) does not dispense
with the necessity of moral culture, and that such moral culture
must be essentially social. But I would not be supposed to be
merely pleading here for a recognition of the duty of going to
Church. The forms and instruments of moral self-culture must
vary enormously with time, place, circumstance, and individual
disposition, and in no case can the duty be considered to have
been exhaustively discharged by simply * going to Church/
valuable and important as that undoubtedly is to those who
share the beliefs which make it possible. The duty is only
a particular application of the principle that a man has not
i;a AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
performed his duty until he has considered and adopted the best
means of knowing his duty better, and of caring more intensely
to do it
(a) In considering any question of duty on which doubt may
have arisen, a man should give due weight to Authority ; but
the authority to which he should attach weight will not be the
authority of the majority, of ' public opinion ' (e. g. the Times
newspaper), or of his neighbours (i. e. the little circle of persons
by whom he happens to be surrounded), but the authority of the
best men and of the best circles, of the rules and maxims which
they have prescribed, of the ideals which have commanded and
still command the greatest weight and have inspired the noblest
action in such persons and circles. Aristotle was not wrong in
the weight which he attributed to the judgements of the Wise ;
he did not adequately emphasize the fact that when a man's
own moral judgement is clear and strong enough he ought
to defy the judgement even of the Wise, after he has
duly endeavoured to educate and instruct himself in their
school.
(3) Of course in the majority of cases at least where the
doubt relates to some question of moral principle as distinct
from a mere doubt about the wisdom, say, of some political
measure, or some technical matter on which he may avail himself
blindly of expert advice the individual, after availing him-
self of the instruction and advice of his authority, will come
to see for himself the truth of the rule or principle which
comes to him commended by the greater weight of moral
Authority, though he may not always be sure that he would
have found it out for himself, or have assented to it if it had
been propounded to him by an authority for which he felt no
reverence. But there are cases where it may be right for a man
to bow to moral Authority when he finds no clear answer to
problems in his own moral consciousness, or even when he feels
that his own judgement (in so far as he can isolate it from the
influence of his authority) would have been the other way.
Whether a man should act on his own view of right and wrong
against a consensus of the best men whom he knows will of course
depend (a) upon the clearness and strength of his own con-
Chap, v, v] LOGICAL BASIS OF AUTHORITY 173
viction, (6) upon the nature of the alternative before him. It
might often be right for a man to forgo an indulgence in which
he sees himself ' no harm ' in deference to Authority, where it
would not be right to take upon himself the responsibity of
what presents itself to his own mind as an act of injustice.
The logical basis of this submission to Authority in the more
strictly moral sphere is exactly the same as that upon which it
is reasonable to rely in any sphere of life upon the authority of
others, and it is needless to observe that nine-tenths of our
actions are in practice based upon knowledge which we accept
upon authority without being able to explain the grounds upon
which it rests. We act upon the judgement of the man who
seems to us most likely to know; and, when we are unable
directly to test the fact of a man's possessing the knowledge he
claims, we assume that the man who is most often right where
we can test his judgement will be right in similar questions
which our own insight or experience is insufficient to decide.
We have found that the judgement of the artistic expert has
proved right so far as we have been able to follow him ; we
think he is likely to be right even when we have not succeeded
in admiring what he admires. We know by the way he sings
and plays that another man's musical powers are much in advance
of ours ; we infer that he is likely to be right when he tells us that
we are singing out of tune, though we were unable ourselves to
perceive the fact. And so in the ethical sphere it would be quite
right for a man who saw no harm in occasional drunkenness to
defer to the consensus of persons whom he recognizes in other
ways as men of more delicate moral perceptions than himself l .
It can hardly be seriously doubted that most good acts of
most good men are done without deliberate and self-conscious
reflection on the reason why they are good. In most cases
their belief is really (as the outside observer can see) dictated by
Authority ; in some cases the agents are themselves well aware
1 A friend suggests that it is a mistake to assume that the ' most delicate '
conscience is always most likely to be right. I certainly do not mean that the
person who has most scruples is the most likely to be right : I should myself
regard the ultra-scrupulous person as one of the worst /ossible advisers in
some kinds of moral difficulty.
i 7 4 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
of the fact. They could give no reason why this or that act is
wrong except that it had always been thought so. As a rule,
of course, the same tradition, or habit, or example, or association
which psychologically explains their conduct causes them also
to think that their dislike of such and such an act is the result
of their own judgement. The more completely their moral con-
sciousness is moulded into accord with the ideal of their
authority, the less are they aware of its influence. But some-
times, in moments of reflection, a man must say to himself,
* I do not know any reason why this is wrong except that it is
forbidden by an authority which is likely to know better than
I do/ In some cases the considerations which make a particular
act detrimental to the general good are too complicated to be
intelligible to the unreflecting or uneducated. A great many
honest men, for instance, could give no adequate or coherent
answer to the question why it is wrong to steal. They would
entirely fail if they attempted to construct a clear and consistent
theory of Property. In other cases, where the question relates
to the goodness of the end, the individual must often either lack
the experience necessary to pronounce upon the matter, or be
unable to appreciate that the end is good, even when he knows
what it is. It is only by submission to Authority that a very
ignorant person can recognize that it is not a waste of time to
spend many hours a day in study ; and there are probably many
people besides children who would frankly confess that they
could not, if it were not forbidden by the Bible, or the Church,
or general opinion, ' see the harm ' of polygamy. Without some
measure of submission to Authority in moral matters Society
could not be kept together.
VI
I know that there are many persons to whom the very
suggestion that anybody is ever in his moral action to defer to
any external authority whatever will present itself as positively
immoral ; and who will be quite unable to dissociate the con-
trary thesis from the idea of ' Priestcraft ' or ' State Socialism '
(according as the Authority is ecclesiastical or secular), tyranny
over Consciences, ' spiritual bondage ' and the like. With a view
Chap, v, vi] EXPLANATIONS 1 75
to meet such objections it may be desirable to make a few
additional explanations and reservations :
1 i) It is a curious fact that the people who assert with peculiar,
if not exaggerated, emphasis the social origin of the individual Con-
science are often the people who most strongly repudiate the idea
of Authority in Ethics. Yet if a man is never to trust any other
moral consciousness than his own, he ought to distrust even his
own Conscience, which has been moulded by the moral conscious-
ness of other men. It is admitted that at least in the period of
early education a man must accept the undemonstrated assertions
of the wise the ipse dixit of parent or teacher. But can it be said
that a man's moral education is always complete because he has
attained the age of legal manhood ? Are not many people, in
the moral sphere, children throughout life, and are not the great
majority of us children in such matters in comparison with the
Saint or the Sage ?
(2) Even if it were admitted that the act done in obedience to
Authority has no moral value in itself, it has consequences ; and
the good man will wish to avoid the bad consequences to others
of his wrong acts, even if his own assisted judgement would have
failed to anticipate them. Everybody admits that it is right to
obey the Physician though we cannot understand the reasons for
his advice ; and it is surely not merely in technical matters that
one man's opinion is likely to be better than another's.
(3) But it is not true that there is no value in an act done
from respect for Authority. There will be a moral value in an
act motived by a desire to do the best, even though a man may
come to the conclusion that such and such an act is the best
merely because some one else thinks so. If this were not so, we
should have to deny all moral value to the acts of whole genera-
tions whose morality has been to an enormous extent based
upon obedience to a book or other authority believed to be
infallible *.
(4) It must be remembered that the man has already per-
formed an act of independent moral judgement in choosing his
authority, in so far as he has chosen it on truly ethical grounds.
1 Of course the submission, even when nominally absolute, has always in
practice had limits.
176 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
It was because such and such a man's character or the known
rules and actual practice of such and such a society or of such
and such a Religion appealed to himself as the noblest that was
within his ken that he placed himself under their guidance, even
when in detail he could not feel confident that they were right.
To choose one's moral authority wisely is at least the beginning of
wisdom in the moral sphere. Acceptance of an authority vaguely
discerned (or at first merely suspected) to be the highest this in
ultimate analysis would be found to be the real source of a large
part of the best conduct that the world has known, and must
still be more or less the case, though the guidance by Authority
naturally and rightly tends to diminish with the maturity of
individuals, classes, and races.
(5) The respect which the judgement of any ethical authority
ought to command must depend upon the extent to which it
rests upon really ethical grounds. If another man's advice to
me is itself dependent upon an authority which I do not respect,
the value of that advice disappears, however much better or wiser
I may know a particular adviser to be than myself. For
instance, the authority of a good man who may recommend such
and such a practice or rule of action is seriously weakened for
me if I discover that his judgement is so far enslaved to an
ecclesiastical system, accepted on non-ethical grounds, that a doubt
arises whether he recommends it as the result of his own moral
judgement or moral experience, or merely because he finds it
prescribed by the Fathers and Canons of the Church, which
a theory of the Church's infallibility compels him to accept:
while equally good men who have been brought up in a different
ecclesiastical tradition seem blind to the moral advantages of the
practice or the obligation of the rule.
(6) It is assumed throughout that our acceptance of Authority
does not, and never can, imply a total abdication of individual
judgement. Not even the most mechanical moral code could
possibly be lived out without the constant exercise of such judge-
ment, and a true moral ideal will emphatically condemn the
incessant dependence either upon some traditional body of
Authority or upon a living ' director.' Moreover in the last
resort, if only the ' voice within ' is clear and decided enough, it
Chap, v, vii] THE HISTORICAL RELIGIONS 177
is a duty to hearken to it, no matter what the weight of con-
trary Authority. It is only asserted that it is often right for
a man to act upon the intuitions of others when he has none
of his own, and sometimes even where his own contrary
intuitions are weak and confused. The extent to which confi-
dence in one's own ethical judgement should overrule any weight
of antagonistic authority is of course as little capable of exact
definition as any other ethical question which assumes the form
of a ' how much ' or a ' how far.'
VII
The aspects of ethical truth which we have been dwelling on
are, as it appears to me, of great importance in dealing with the
relation between Morality and Religion. That subject must
hereafter be considered more at length. But the view which we
have taken will help us to appreciate certain aspects of that rela-
tion as it has actually existed in History. It will enable us to
appreciate and to justify, at least on their purely ethical side,
two important elements in all the historical religions, and
especially in Christianity (i) the authority of exceptional
personalities ; (a) the authority of the religious community. It
is largely because these influences are so completely ignored in
the treatment of Morality by professed Philosophers that their
accounts of the moral life are often so widely removed from the
facts which History reveals.
If the moral consciousness is formed and moralized by the
social environment and particularly the influence of the persons
in whom the moral capacity of the human soul has reached its
highest development, if it is right that in all moral judgements
great weight should be accorded to the authority of the best
men, sometimes even in preference to the man's own spontaneous
ideas of right and wrong, when he finds them confused or defec-
tive, then we are able to justify the reverence with which the
highest ethical religions of the world have regarded the teaching
of their founders, and particularly the altogether unique
authority which Christian Theology has ascribed to the life,
teaching, and character of Jesus Christ, an authority which is
often recognized in practice by many who would refuse to accept
178 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
any theological formulation of it. There is no supersession or
surrender of a man's own moral judgement in ascribing this
position to Christ, if it is by the individual's own moral judge-
ment (seconded and confirmed by that of others in whose
moral insight he believes) that the moral value of the authority
is discerned.
But while the principles which have already been laid down
will fully justify such a submission to the authority of the moral
consciousness at its highest, it will also suggest the limits of such
submission. Even in respect of this highest kind of moral
Authority it is important to bear in mind the limitations within
which alone it can be morally healthful for individuals or for
communities to acquiesce in obedience to an external authority
in conduct. It is clear that such submission can only be morally
healthful when the authority is accepted, at least in part, upon
ethical grounds. When a certain stage of intellectual or moral
development has been reached, it may even be said that the
acceptance ought to be based solely upon an independent accept-
ance of the ethical ideal set up by the authority. For the
individual it may, indeed, be quite reasonable that, when a certain
moral Authority is once accepted on ethical grounds, respect
should be paid to it even in details which may not actually
commend themselves to the private judgement of the individual.
But this cannot well be permanently the case for the community,
or for that inner circle of ethical intelligence from which the
community really derives its highest ethical ideas. By the
community at large a moral authority can only be healthily
recognized because and in so far as the social consciousness
accepts and ratifies the ideal set before it by the authority.
To accept it beyond this point would put a stop to that indepen-
dent working of the moral consciousness upon which all ethical
progress is dependent. And that comes to very much the same
thing as saying that it is only in respect of the widest and most
fundamental ethical ideas that we can expect the judgements
of any ethical teacher permanently to commend themselves to
the world. Even for the individual the acceptance of moral
ideas or rules on authority must not and cannot preclude some
independent exercise of his own moral intelligence. For even
Chap, v, vii] AUTHORITY OF CHRIST 179
the most precise moral rules cannot be applied without such an
exercise of the independent value-judging faculty. A moral
rule may say ' be kind/ but a person whose reverence for kind-
ness was wholly based upon authority would be quite unable to
recognize what particular actions were kind. The results of
attempting to treat the ipse dixit of some moral code no matter
how true and venerable as a mere external authority to be
applied to the particular case after the manner of a parliamen-
tary Statute has been summed up in the adage that the devil
can quote Scripture to his purpose. But still more in the case of
the community it is clear that changing circumstances and events
are continually bringing about the need for fresh applications
and developments of existing moral rules, for the revision of old
applications of such rules, and for passing judgements upon wholly
new questions of Ethics upon which no rules at present exist.
The idea of a unique crisis or turning-point in the moral
history of mankind has nothing in it in the slightest degree incon-
sistent with a due recognition of the principle of development,
or even with the idea of perpetual progress in any sense in which
it is rational to cherish the hope of such progress. It will be
unnecessary to dwell upon the existence of certain unique crises
in the evolutionary history of the Universe. Such crises are
constituted by the beginning of organized life, still more em-
phatically by the beginnings of consciousness, and (though here
the crisis must be assigned to a definite era of considerable
duration rather than to a definite moment of time) to the first
beginnings of the moral life. It will perhaps be more to the
purpose if we point to analogous crises in the growth of the
Sciences. It is quite misleading to treat scientific progress as if
it consisted in the perpetual revision of traditional views, in the
constant giving up of old theories, and the acceptance of new
ones. There are discoveries in the Sciences which constitute
epochs, and which are practically final. That these discoveries
should always be open to criticism and be held liable to revision,
should any need for it present itself, goes without saying, but in
many cases there is no reason to apprehend that any such
necessity will occur: nor is it even considered desirable to
encourage the expectation that it will.
i8o AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
Copernicus, Newton, Darwin are the names which most con-
spicuously associate themselves with such epochs. After such
an epoch there is no going back. Mistakes in detail such heroes
of scientific achievement have made, but their main ideas have
not been revised ; there is no reason whatever for thinking that
they ever will be. Not only so, but such discoveries gradually
narrow the ground of possible fresh discovery. It may safely be
said that in the realm of Physics, for instance, there is no room for
any new discovery of the same magnitude with the discovery of
the Newtonian Laws. For all time Physics must be based on
the discovery for which Copernicus prepared the way, and which
Newton actually made. Equally little room is there, I imagine,
in Biology for a new idea which can be so new or revolutionary
as the idea of Darwin in its most general form, apart from the
details of his theory which are and may long be matter of dis-
pute. Such parallels may suggest the kind and measure of the
finality which may reasonably be expected in Ethica That such
a crisis in the spiritual history of mankind occurred in connexion
with the rise of the Christian Religion, is almost universally
admitted; and it is the general verdict of sober criticism that,
when all due allowance is made for the long evolution of ideas
which prepared the way for that crisis and for the existence of
a certain amount of development even in the earliest records of
its Founder's life, that crisis was chiefly due to the personality
of that Founder. Considering the enormous place in the entire
moral life of the world that is occupied by the idea of the
paramount authority of the teaching of Christ, it will not,
I trust, be thought an irrelevant digression in an ethical treatise
definitely to raise the question whether there is anything
opposed to a due recognition of the ideal of ethical Autonomy
in the recognition of a certain finality and completeness in the
' Christian ideal/
VIII
It is clear that in many senses of the word there can be no
finality in Ethics. The details of right conduct are obviously
relative to changing circumstances of time and place. So long
as we confine ourselves to means, every new piece of knowledge
Chap, v, viii] NECESSITY OF DEVELOPMENT 181
in the world alters the details of many duties. It became wrong
for a busy man to travel from London to Oxford by coach as
soon as a quicker way of reaching his destination was invented.
And discoveries as to the relation of means to ends discoveries
in Physiology, in Psychology, in Economics are continually
revolutionizing whole regions of duty. It is needless to give
illustrations of the way in which increased knowledge of
physical and social laws has modified our conception of our
duty to the poor, to the sick, to the insane, to children and the
like. And it is not only in respect of the means, but also in
respect of the end, that we must expect indefinite change and
development. If the view taken in these pages be well founded,
duty consists in promoting the true good of all human beings in
proportion to their intrinsic worth or capacity. But wherein
does that true good consist? At any given moment in the
history of the world the individual (in so far as he relies upon
his own judgement) must fix for himself the content of that good
by his own judgements of value. But, even if his intuitions of
value were incapable of improvement, his power of passing
such judgements would still be relative to his experience. He
can only estimate rightly the value of such things as he knows.
But human experience is constantly growing. In all departments
of human activity we are continually hearing of the new this or
the new that the new humour, the new Trade Unionism, the new
Art, the music of the future, and so on. Each of these new ideas
introduces fresh moral problems, which cannot possibly be
settled in detail by appealing to any existing canons, any more
than it would be possible to apply the old rules of tactics to the
altered conditions of modern warfare. It is not that any old
rule or principle has necessarily been found to be wrong, but
there is no rule at all which is applicable to the new case. The
most gifted moral nature cannot possibly say whether the listen-
ing to Wagner's music forms an element in true human good till
he has heard at least a little of it. The question must be
settled by a fresh exercise of the value-judging faculty. In
this way and in this sense our ideal of human life is constantly
growing and expanding in its actual content. The proposition
that it is good to be charitable remains as true as it ever was ;
1 82 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
bnt Charity must now mean promoting for our neighbours a
very different kind of life than any that could have been lived
in the Palestine of the Christian era.
Now, in view of these considerations, it is clear that it is only
in respect of the most general ethical principles that any finality
can be claimed for the Christian ideal. The law of Brother-
hood the supreme duty of promoting the true good for every
human being may, indeed, be treated as occupying in Ethics
very much the position which the law of universal gravitation
occupies in Physics. 1 The law must be accepted simply in the
last resort because it appeals to our Moral Reason, and only so
long as it does appeal to the Moral Reason of successive ages.
But it is as gratuitous to contemplate the coming of a time
when it shall be superseded as it would be to expect the advent
of a second Newton who will overthrow and supersede the dis-
coveries of the first. And yet, as we have seen, this law would
mean comparatively little for us apart from some idea of what
the good is. It would mean little to assert the finality of the
Christian ideal if we did not include in our conception of that
ideal some conception of what the good is that is to be promoted
for each individual soul. And for the central elements of Christ's
estimate of goods the supreme value of love, the superiority
of the spiritual to the sensual, the value of personal purity, the
subordination of sensuous gratification to higher things without
any ascetic condemnation of natural and healthy pleasure there
is every reason to expect as much permanence as for the law
of Brotherhood itself. But from the nature of the case it is
impossible to define more exactly the line which separates the
essential from the unessential, the permanent from the tem-
porary, the germ from the full-grown organism. Within the
limits thus indicated there is room for a very large development
in the moral ideal. The attitude of Christians towards intel-
lectual and aesthetic culture has, for instance, varied considerably
1 How far this idea can be found in other ethical systems earlier than, or
independent of Christianity, it is not necessary for us here to consider.
Broadly speaking, I believe the answer to be that it is to be found in other
ethical systems, but side by side with a great many ethical ideas which are
quite inconsistent with it.
Chap, v, viii] RITSCHLIANISM 183
at different times in the history of the Church. That develop-
ment has taken place in the past is a matter of history. That it
will take place, and ought to take place, in the future results
from all that has been said about the impossibility of detailed
finality in any ideal, the necessity for the constant exercise of
the value-judging consciousness, and the consequent need for
development in the ethical code. Only in so far as it is supple-
mented by this principle of development can we regard the
association of a moral ideal with a certain epoch and a single
great historical Personality in the past as morally healthful and
intellectually defensible. That Christianity accepts, and always
has accepted, this principle of development through its doctrine
of the Holy Spirit would be a leading topic in any reasoned
apologetic for Christianity as the absolute Religion.
The dominant school of liberal Christian Theology in Ger-
many the school which takes its name from Lotze's great
disciple and colleague, Ritschl rightly bases the claim of Christ
and of Christianity upon the permanent truth and unique value
of the ideal taught by Christ in work, act, and character 1 , as recog-
nized by the value -judgements of the individual moral conscious-
ness. That school, rightly to my mind, regards Christian dogma
as the progressive effort of the Christian consciousness to express
in the philosophical language of the time its sense of the supreme
and unique value to humanity of the moral and religious con-
sciousness of Christ, and makes its fidelity to that idea the
ultimate test of dogmatic truth. But unfortunately the
Ritschlians have exaggerated this ' Christo-centric ' tendency in
a way which is as inconsistent with historical facts as it is with
sound ethical theory. Their tendency to disparage Metaphysic,
whether in the form of modern Philosophy or of ancient dogma ;
their suicidal attempt to rest the truth not merely of Christianity
but of Theism wholly and solely upon the emotional experience
of the individual Christian soul ; their depreciation of all know-
ledge of God such as is derivable from philosophical reflection or
is contained in other historical Religions, it would be irrelevant
1 Including of course his religious consciousness, his sense of union with
the Father and his teaching about Him, of which it would here be out of
place to speak more in detail.
i8 4 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
here to criticize in detail. What it does concern us here to insist
upon is that an Ethic is fundamentally erroneous which refuses
to recognize the necessary and healthful interaction between the
moral consciousness of the individual and that of the community
the need for constant development in the ethical ideal, the
impossibility of a final or supreme ethical revelation which is
not also a continuous and progressive revelation. On ethical
grounds alone we may say that the doctrine of the Son requires,
as its indispensable complement, a doctrine of the Holy Ghost.
It must not be supposed that in asserting that the true ground
for the acceptance of the Christian ideal is the fact that it com-
mends itself to the moral consciousness we are in any way
disparaging the importance of the life and teaching of Christ in
the moral evolution of mankind, or the value of a knowledge of
that life and teaching to individuals and communities at the
present day. The Conscience of the average man is quite capable
of accepting ideals which he could never have thought out for
himself. The moral level once attained by a community can
only be kept up by the continued operation of the influences
which raised it to that level. It is true that ideas m&y some-
times live when their origin is forgotten. But even in the
region of Physical Science education consists largely in the
history of past discovery. And there is this difference between
scientific ideas and moral ones, that moral ideas and ideals are
far less separable from the personality of those who have
taught them. The strongest ethical influences are personal
influences. To say that the truth of the moral ideal presented
by the teaching of Christ must rest upon the appeal that it
makes to the moral consciousness of mankind is a very different
thing from saying that the influence which that ideal has exer-
cised and still exercises over the world has been or ever can be
separated from the influence exercised by the character and
personality of Jesus. It is as well established a fact of history
and of sober criticism that the Christian ideal, in the form in which
it would be recognized by any modern Christian, even if he be
a Ritschlian Theologian, does represent much ethical teaching not
explicitly to be found in the teaching of Christ, as that the develop-
ment has flowed from that moral new birth of the world which is
Chap, v, ix] AUTHORITY OF THE CHURCH 185
to be associated with his work. It is childish to dispute whether
the fountain-head or the stream be the more important to the
thirsty traveller ; nor need a due recognition of the fact that
the main stream of Christian ethical thought can be traced back
directly to the historical Christ prevent us from recognizing
that it has received not unimportant accessions by the way.
The very capacity for absorbing into itself what is most valuable
in ethical teaching outside itself constitutes one of the chief
qualifications of the Christian * deposit ' of ethical truth to be
the basis of a universal Ethic and a universal Religion.
IX
From the point of view here suggested, the notion of an
authority residing in the Christian community, so far from
being regarded as part of that ' Aberglaube ' which it is the
business of an emancipated Theology to sweep away, will pre-
sent itself as a vital condition of our being able to recognize in
any historical Religion a claim to finality and to universality.
The authority of the Church in ethical as in religious matters
means the authority of the Christian consciousness the growing
and expanding moral consciousness of those who in the full and
deliberate exercise of their own faculty of moral discernment
have recognized in the fundamental Christian ideas the highest
moral truth which the Spirit of God has revealed to the world.
What from the point of view of the individual is Authority
becomes, as I have already insisted, when looked upon from the
social point of view, liberty or Autonomy. The ideal purpose of
the visible Christian society is to serve as the organ of this
consciousness. The Church in its ultimate idea is a society for
the promotion of the highest ideal of life, under the guidance of
a true theory of the relation of man to God. All that has been
said about the existence of many conflicting social ideals, repre-
senting a variety of distinguishable though mutually interacting
* societies/ within each geographical or political * society ' tends to
emphasize the necessity for a society specially concerned with the
promotion of the highest life. That each and every one of the
societies commonly known as Churches have fallen very far short
of being adequate organs for this purpose is too obvious a propo-
1 86 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
sition to need historical justification. They have all been more
or less imperfect realizations of a high ideal. In dealing with
the State we have long found it possible to believe in the divine
right of Government without believing in the divine right of any
particular ruler or any particular constitution. We have found
it possible to recognize side by side a divine right of Govern-
ment and a divine right of Rebellion to recognize the duty of
the individual to submit himself to the society, and to recognize
none the less that that submission has limits. It is high time
that a similar mode of thinking were applied to the relations
between the individual and Society in all its forms and all its
organs and not least in that most important organ of all
(according to the true ideal of it) which we call the Church
or the Churches.
All that has hitherto been said as to the limit of the authority
which the society can claim over the individual needs to be
remembered and emphasized with peculiar distinctness in regard
to the religious society. A prejudice against the very word
Authority has sprung in part from its confusion, both by friend
and foe, with the totally different idea of Infallibility. All that has
been said about the right and the duty of individual judgement,
about the necessity for progress, of self-assertion in individuals
and in societies, about the process by which the moral discoveries
of the individual spirit are appropriated and enforced by the
community, constitutes a protest against that confusion. Some-
times the social consciousness itself is misrepresented by the
official organization whose function it is to serve as its expression :
sometimes it is the right and duty of the individual to rebel
against what really is for the moment the dominant ideal of his
society. But, all the same, we must recognize the idea of an
ethical authority residing in the society, and the need of a
definite organ or organs for the expression of that authority, as
a counterpoise and complement to the authority which is rightly
ascribed to the highest embodiments of the moral consciousness
in the past. For Christians the authority of the Church is
required as the necessary complement and development of the
unique and paramount authority which with ample justification
they have ascribed to its Founder.
Chap.v,ix] AUTHORITY IMPLIES AUTONOMY 187
The true ideal of human nature is undoubtedly the ideal which
has been expressed by the word Autonomy. The ideal is that
each individual should do what in the exercise of his own con-
sciousness he sees to be right. But the education of the moral
consciousness up to this level is only possible through the action
of a strong social Conscience, and the recognition of its authority
by the individual, up to the point at which his present knowledge,
experience, and ethical insight require its support. It is only
through the principle of Authority that the individual enters
into the accumulated ethical inheritance bequeathed to him by
the past. Apart from social education, each individual would
have to start at the level of the savage, and by his own unassisted
efforts he could scarcely avoid sinking even below that level.
It is the object of social education to quicken and develope the
individual's power of independent ethical thought and feeling to
an extent which shall make him not so much independent of
Authority as unconscious of its influence except in so far as he sees
the necessity for going beyond it. If in a sense the individual in
the course of his moral growth becomes less and less dependent
upon social Authority, in a sense he becomes more and more
identified with it. The commands to which he once submitted
as mere external commands now become to him the commands
of his own higher self : he who was the subject over against an
actual legislator now becomes himself the legislator as well as
the subject legislator for himself and, as a member of the
society, legislator for others. But this very growth of inde-
pendent ethical power will have fitted him and compelled him
to develope existing ideals further than they have been de-
veloped, and even to correct and contradict them when necessary.
Even to the last this ideal of Autonomy is one which no indi-
vidual can fully reach : in a sense it is one which he ought not
to reach. The limitations of his knowledge and experience,
sheer want of time for enquiry and reflection, the impossibility
of becoming an expert in a hundred different directions, must
compel him to take on trust the judgements of others as to
means, and to a large extent even as regards elements in a true
ideal of the good. He must continue, he ought to continue,
sensitive to the ethical ideas of the people about him, of the
i88 AUTHORITY AND AUTONOMY [Book II
society as a whole, and, above all, of the best people in it ; but he
ought also to criticize them and to react upon them. The attempt
to deny or ignore the principles of Authority in Ethics altogether
would mean moral anarchy : to prohibit the individual from
going beyond, and, if need be, rebelling against the accepted
moral standard, would mean ethical stagnation and abject
' heteronomy.' In truth the ideal of Authority and the ideal of
Autonomy both become absurd and self-contradictory if either
is pushed to the point of excluding the other. Reliance on
Authority can only justify itself by the assumption that there
exist individuals or societies which are ethically autonomous,
and there could be no Autonomy in the society if there were no
relatively autonomous individuals, or if they exercised no
authority over their fellows.
BOOK III
MAN AND THE UNIVERSE
CHAPTER I
METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY
THE relations of Moral Philosophy to Metaphysic may be
conveniently treated under three heads: the two subjects are
connected :
(i) Because any true and adequate account of the nature
of Morality must involve certain metaphysical postulates or
presuppositions.
(a) Because some of the conclusions of Metaphysic, even
though Morality might in a sense exist if they were not true, are
of high importance to Morality and seriously affect our attitude
towards it ; so that, if not postulates of any Morality whatever,
they are postulates of a rational and coherent ethical system.
(3) Because Moral Philosophy involves certain metaphysical
consequences, or supplies some of the data which it is the
business of Metaphysic to interpret.
Like every other branch of knowledge Moral Philosophy
implies or assumes certain ultimate conceptions which it is the
business of the Metaphysician to examine. But we do not
usually consider it necessary to begin the study of a Science by
an enquiry into its ultimate metaphysical implications. Mathe-
matical Science assumes that there are such things as space and
quantity, and that our ideas about their nature constitute in
some sense knowledge of Reality. Physics assume the existence
of matter and force : Psychology assumes the existence of mind
or consciousness. The ultimate meaning of all these conceptions
is matter of grave metaphysical controversy ; and yet the
190 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
Physicist at least, if not to the same extent the Psychologist,
is content to leave metaphysical controversy severely alone. In
the same way the ultimate nature of Morality and its relation to
other kinds or elements or aspects of Reality are questions
which open up the most momentous metaphysical issues. It
is no doubt possible simply to assume the existence of the moral
consciousness, and to analyse its contents. That is the task with
which for the most part we have so far been concerned, though
at times (as for instance in the chapter on Reason and Feeling)
it has been impossible altogether to maintain the attitude of
indifference to metaphysical problems. And that task repre-
sents, I believe, the primary aim of Moral Philosophy. That
it is a possible task, the object of a possible Science, is proved by
the existence of many books on the subject in which there is
hardly any explicit metaphysical discussion : while, even in
those writers who are most in the habit of insisting upon the
intimate relation between Moral Philosophy and Metaphysic,
we do not find as a rule that their arguments turn on any
metaphysical considerations so long as they are engaged on
the questions which have so far occupied our attention. Let
the question be * What is the moral criterion ? ', * Is pleasure
the chief good ? ', ' Is Casuistry possible ? ', ' Why is it a duty
to speak the truth ? ', or the like so long as they are dis-
cussing matters like these, we do not find that their arguments
turn upon any explicit metaphysical assumption : they are
arguments of precisely the same kind as those which are em-
ployed by writers combining the same ethical views with a
different metaphysical basis or by their opponents in support of
opposite ethical theories. Metaphysic does not contain in itself
the solution of any of these questions ; and it requires no meta-
physical knowledge to follow the arguments commonly employed
in discussing them. It is no doubt true that the views of such
writers as Kant or Green upon such questions imply certain
metaphysical presuppositions ; but only in the sense in which
every Science assumes metaphysical postulates. Morality, as
understood by them, would have no reality or validity if certain
metaphysical theories inconsistent with their own could be re-
garded as true. But then speculatively these writers would also
Chap. i,i] METAPHYSIC AND THE SCIENCES 191
hold that the same or certain other metaphysical positions are
inconsistent with the ascription of any objective significance to
the truths of Mathematics or Physical Science. In so far as such
writers have used metaphysical propositions for the determina-
tion of purely ethical questions, their Metaphysic has often proved
a source of error and confusion rather than of enlightenment,
as for instance when Green argues that pleasure being in time
cannot satisfy a self which is out of time. So long as the Moral
Philosopher confines himself to this analysis of the moral con-
sciousness, he is only forced to make metaphysical assumptions
in the sense in which the Mathematician makes metaphysical
assumptions in asserting that we know certain things about
space and quantity and number.
Are we then to say that the real connexion between Moral
Philosophy and Metaphysic is no more intimate than the con-
nexion between Metaphysic and any of the so-called * positive '
Sciences ? If such an assertion were well founded, it would
certainly imply that the majority of Moral Philosophers have
been the victims of some strange illusion or some extraordinary
accident. There are not unimportant Moral Philosophers who
have written practically nothing on Metaphysic, but theirs are
hardly the greatest names in the history of Moral Philosophy :
and there are few Metaphysicians who have not dealt with
Ethics in however incidental a fashion. The reason of this is
not far to seek. Speculatively, indeed, it is impossible to deny
a very close connexion between sound ideas on the subject-
matter of Metaphysics and sound ideas about the subject-matter
of Mathematics. Sensationalism, and perhaps some other forms
of Empiricism, deny all meaning or objective validity to those
necessities of thought with which Mathematics are concerned.
But practically we find that a man's views as a Metaphysician
exercise no influence upon his treatment of Mathematics.
Mathematicians of the most opposite views, or of no views
at all, about the ultimate nature of space and time are content to
assume the truth of the same axioms ; and the different sense in
which (if they are Metaphysicians at all) they interpret these
ultimate assumptions exercises no practical effect upon the con-
clusions which they reach as Mathematicians. It is the same
i 9 2 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
with the Physicist, and possibly even with the Biologist 1 , so
long as they really confine themselves to the subject-matter
of their respective Sciences. It ought theoretically to be the
same with the Psychologist, though in his case the isolation
of the psychological problem from the metaphysical involves
a degree of abstraction which in practice only a trained Meta-
physician, if any one, can keep up 2 , and which it is perhaps not
very desirable to keep up. Nobody in practice doubts that it is
shorter to go across the grass in a quadrangle than to walk
round two sides of it, no matter how sceptical or sensationalistic
may be his theory of space. No physical law is ever in practice
questioned on the ground of some idealistic or sceptical theory
about matter 3 ; nor does the most materialistic of psychologists
who has passed beyond the stage of elementary confusion ever
ignore in practice the difference between a wave of ether and
a perception of blue. In Ethics it is far otherwise. Particular
theories about the nature of knowledge, or of matter, or of mind
are constantly made into grounds for the denial of the Moralist's
primary assumption, the existence of the moral consciousness
and the validity of its dictates ; or at least for admitting them
only in a sense which revolutionizes the meaning of every proposi-
tion included in the Science itself. So long as he is content to
assume the reality and authority of the moral consciousness,
the Moral Philosopher can ignore Metaphysic ; but, if the reality
1 Here, indeed, at a certain point metaphysical differences (conscious or
unconscious) about the nature of Causality are likely to emerge, but they
need not emerge till an advanced stage has been reached in the study of
the subject.
2 The same remark may certainly be made with regard to some of the more
speculative questions to which the higher Physics lead up, but the ideal of the
two Sciences is that they should be as distinct as possible. The uncertainty
of division only exists when the Physicist's conclusions are speculative. So
long as that is the case, the Physicist is always liable to become, or to be
accused by the Metaphysician of having become, a Metaphysician without
knowing it. Physical facts, when once established, have simply to be
accepted by the Metaphysician. To interpret them in their relation to
other aspects of Reality is his business, and not that of the Physicist.
8 The tendency of Physicists to deny the possibility of an actio in distans
may perhaps be accounted for by the unrecognized influence of metaphysical
assumptions.
Chap, i, i] ETHICS AS A SPECIAL SCIENCE 193
of Morals or the validity of ethical truth be once brought into
question, the attack can only be met by a thorough-going enquiry
into the nature of Knowledge and of Reality ; we have to clear up
the relation between the particular sort or aspect of Reality
with which the Moralist deals and all Reality, between ethical
truth and truth in general. In practice it is hardly possible
to write many lines about some very fundamental questions
of Ethics from which some people would not dissent on meta-
physical grounds.
Each of the special Sciences deals with some particular aspect
of Reality taken in abstraction from the rest. In Moral Philo-
sophy, in so far as we are considering the nature of the moral
consciousness apart from other aspects of Being, we are still in
a sense abstract ; we are dealing with a departmental Science ;
but the discussion cannot practically proceed far without touch-
ing upon the most ultimate of all questions. We are dealing
with such a large and fundamental aspect of ultimate Reality
that it is practically impossible to deal with it thoroughly with-
out taking a very important step towards the determination
of our attitude towards Reality as a whole. It is impossible
that our views on the ultimate problems of Ethics should not be
influenced by our attitude towards Reality as a whole, or that
our view of Reality as a whole should not be influenced by our
attitude towards Morality. It is not from any doubt about the
importance to Ethics of certain metaphysical ideas that the
treatment of our subject was not preceded by an exhaustive
enquiry into the nature of Knowledge and Reality ; but rather
because it would have been extremely difficult to draw the line
between the specially ethical side of Metaphysics and the whole
of that Science. The metaphysical * prolegomena of Ethics ' tend
to become identical with the Science of Metaphysic itself, or
at least with the main outlines of it. All that can be attempted
here, consistently with the plan of this work, is to indicate,
without fully justifying, the metaphysical positions which in my
view are necessary either as presuppositions or as corollaries
of a reasonable system of Ethics.
RASHDALL II
194 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
II
The first point of contact between Ethics and Metaphysics
lies, as we have seen, in the fact that the former Science involves
certain metaphysical presuppositions. There are two directions
in which ethical conclusions such as those at which we have
arrived might be directly l impugned on metaphysical grounds.
The attack might be based upon a theory of the nature of
knowledge or upon a theory as to the nature of that self with
which in Morality we are concerned. It need hardly be said
that the two lines of objection are very closely connected. We
will look at the matter first from the epistemological point of
view.
The tendency of all theories which make experience the sole
source of knowledge is to undermine belief in that element
of our moral ideas which most obviously cannot be derived from
experience : and that is, if we are right, precisely the element
which constitutes the essence of Morality. By the doctrine that
all knowledge comes from experience is very likely to be meant
the doctrine that alMl]^3Y^reJJy_jg^^ JibouLJJiings^is^the
feelhjgsJJiat they give us : Empiricism does not perhaps in every
sense of the word necessarily involve Sensationalism, but the
historical ' school of Ejcgsrjence,' i n proportion to its thoroughness
and self-consistency, has tended to identify experience withjnere
sensation. Now if we know ultimately nothing but feeling, the
knowledge of right and wrong, so far as it is knowledge of any-
thing real, must also be based upon a kind of feeling, or rather,
it (like every other kind of knowledge) must be, at bottom,
nothing but a mode of feeling. The attempt may, indeed, be
made to show that moral approbation represents a specific
feeling different in kind from all other feelings: but the up-
holders of a ' Moral Sense ' wholly fail to show why this feeling,
however distinct, however much sui generis, should have any
better claim to be attended to than any other feelings. Of
course the constructive Moralist of the Moral Sense school 2
1 Later in the chapter I shall deal with the metaphysical or theological
questions which have an indirect bearing on their validity.
' 2 Such a man as Hutcheson. The ultimate meaning of Shaftesbury is more
ambiguous.
Chap, i, ii] CONNEXION WITH METAPHYSIC 195
really takes his subjective feeling of ' approbation ' to be an
index of some objective reality, but this is just what he has
no right to do so long as he attempts to analyse all knowledge
into mere feeling. Mere feeling can testify to nothing beyond
itself. Feeling g^ain e*m appeal only to him,, who feels jfr: the
Sensationalist cannot logically recognize any ideal of what men
ought to feel, whether this or that man actually feels it or not.
As long as feeling is treated simply as feeling, it is arbitrary to
assign to one feeling a higher value than another for any other-
reason than its actual intensity or the actual strength of the
impulse which it excites: all distinctions of quality between
feelings imply a reference to an ideal or rational standard which
mere feeling can neither set up nor acknowledge. The logical
Sensationalist must also be a Hedonist, and an egoistic Hedonist 1 .
He may (with Hume) recognize as a psychological fact that
in persons of a certain mental constitution the pleasures and
pains of others have a tendency to cause pleasure and pain
by sympathy : but this (as it is Hume's great merit to have
recognized) constitutes no reason for attending to these sympa-
thetic pleasures or pains, or allowing oneself to be influenced by
them beyond the point to which one is inclined to go by one's
natural taste for this particular source of pleasurable feeling.
The consistent Sensationalist can know nothing of an absolute
or objective Morality, of intrinsic value, of moral obligation. 2
Even if Empiricism does not take the form of pure Sensation-
alism even when it recognizes (that is to say) that knowledge
is something more than subjective feeling it still puts great
difficulties in the way of a constructive system of Ethics. So
long as Reality is supposed to reside in ' things ' conceived
1 It is, indeed, possible for the merely * naturalistic ' Moralist to avoid
Hedonism by defining the good as that which we actually desire, and
measuring the amount of the good by the strength of the desire, without
assuming that that something is always pleasure, but the distinction between
desire and feeling is a difficult one for the Sensationalist.
2 Strictly speaking, of course, even the calculating pursuit of a maximum
pleasure would be impossible if knowledge were mere sensation. I am
assuming that the Sensationalist does not see that his position is destructive
to the possibility of any knowledge whatever, even of what is necessary
in order to aim at a maximum of pleasure on the whole.
2
196 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
of as" having their nature altogether independently of our minds
or of any mind (even though it may be recognized that the
knowing mind must possess powers other than a mere capacity
for feeling), it remains difficult to recognize truth or validity
in a kind of knowledge for which obviously no such basis
can be found in ' external ' Nature. It may no doubt be
contended that the Empiricist is not necessarily a Materialist.
He may acknowledge the existence of mind and of mental states
in himself and others ; these are facts of experience no less than
outward ' things. 1 But if nothing is supposed to be knowable
about mind except { mental states ' known by immediate ex-
perience and abstracted from all reference to any Reality beyond
themselves, there is no possibility of comparing these * states'
with any ideal standard not given in experience, and the ' states
of mind ' tend to be valued merely in proportion to their ex-
perienced intensity, and that is very much the same thing
as valuing them merely as sources of pleasure or pain: and,
so far as this is the case, the Empiricist's position in regard
to Morality becomes identical with that of the Sensationalist.
Indeed, strictly speaking, so long as he really confines himself
to experience, the question of value cannot arise at all. The
Empiricist can know by experience whether things are pleasant :
he cannot attach any meaning to the assertion that pleasure
is a good unless he understands it to mean that people actually
do pursue pleasure. We have already seen that no accumulation
of experiences of pleasure and pain can give us the ultimate
major premiss which is implied by all Morality ; from * is ' to
' ought/ from existence to value, from the actual to the good,
there js no way by the road of ^experienced No doubt It is
possible to take up the position that this one particular kind of
knowledge has a different origin from that of any other know-
ledge: that other knowledge does, indeed, come only from
experience of external and material ' things/ but that in this
one function the human soul is in contact with a Reality which
is not material. And, in so far as the Empiricist passes into
the dualistic Realist in so far, that is, as he recognizes the
activity of the mind in knowledge and the reality of mind side
by side with that of matter the resulting Metaphysic ceases to
Chap. 4, ii] IDEALISM AND ETHICS 197
have any direct or immediate tendency to undermine the reality
and authority of a non-empirical l moral law, except in so far
as its inherent unsoundness may end in its own collapse, and so
in the collapse of any ethical superstructure which may be built
upon it. All that we can say is that the more moral judgements
are treated as a solitary exception to the rest of our knowledge,
the more difficulty there is in explaining their character and
justifying their validity ; and the more is suspicion apt to be
excited that, in assigning them an origin so different from that
of all other recognized knowledge, we are seeking to bolster
up a mysterious, 'mystical/ or unintelligible theory in some
practical interest.
The more fully it is recognized that in all knowledge even in
knowledge of the most ordinary matter of fact mind is active
or creative or constitutive of Reality and not merely a passive
recipient of impressions from the outside, the more fully it is
recognized that in knowledge the mind is building up or con-
tributing an essential factor to Reality, and not merely recognizing
a Reality which is what it is quite independently of itself or of any
other subject, so much the more intelligible does it become that
there should be a truth which has no external ' thing-in-itself '
corresponding to it, a knowledge which is not derived from mere
' sensible experience/ a Reality or aspect of Reality which cannot
be expressed in the language of merely physical Science or
of mere psychological experience. The bare supposition that
there is an ' external ' and independent thing behind our ideas
about the thing, that the 'active powers' of the mind merely
recognize what is already there ' in the thing/ independently of
such recognition by itself or any other mind, has no doubt by itself
nothing in it to provoke distrust of the conclusions to which the
Moralist may be led by an examination of the moral conscious-
ness. At the same time a position much more favourable to
a cordial acceptance of moral objectivity is reached when from
admitting the activity of mind in the recognition of the objects
1 Of course I do not mean to deny that all moral ideas, like all other
ideas, are derived from human ' experience ' if that word is used in a suffi-
ciently wide sense -to include the power of building up knowledge and
ideals which are something other than immediate presentation.
198 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
of our knowledge we pass on to the view that these objects exist
only for mind, and have no reality of their own apart from
mind. Hence the imperishable value of the Kantian analysis of
our knowledge, which shows that those special properties which
the plain man regards as constituting the very essence of the
' thing ' as it is apart from mind are really a creation of mind
and unintelligible apart from it that the ' oneness,' the
i substantiality/ the * causality/ the ' actuality/ the ' quantity/
which to common-sense seem wholly independent of mind, turn
out on reflection to be mental relations unintelligible and in-
conceivable except in reference to a knowing mind, so that the
things that we know have no independent existence apart from
our own or some other experience of them. It is true that Kant
acknowledged, like all Idealists, the necessity of sensible ex-
perience for the constitution of this phenomenal world : though,
unlike most of his successors, he assumed that the sensations
which (with the relations) go to constitute the world as we know
it are derived from an unknown and unknowable world of things
in themselves. But these spaceless and timeless ' things-in-
themselves ' of Kant have so little in common with the ordinary
man's idea of ' matter ' l that the practical effect of this modified
or 'critical' Idealism is for Morality much the same as that
of the more thorough-going Idealism which absolutely denies
the existence of ' things ' which are not either rnind or essentially
relative to mind. And when it is recognized that the very
' things ' which the plain man is apt to take as the absolute
antithesis of thought, the very ' matter ' beside which all mere
ereations of the] mind are apt to appear unreal and phantasmal,
&re nevertheless in a true sense the ' work of the mind/ the
difficulty disappears of realizing that moral judgements may be
none the less true and trustworthy, because they are not ' induc-
tions from experience/ or of discerning in the Moral Law a reality
or validity which is none the less real because it is ideal. Idealism
in Metaphysics, though not logically necessary to Idealism in
Ethics, is its natural support and ally. Such a Metaphysic
is, as leading up to the recognition of the activity of mind in
1 At certain moments Kant himself is disposed to identify the 'thing-in-
itself ' with God, or the world as it is for God.
Chap, i, iii] POSTULATES OF MORALITY 199
knowledge, the natural groundwork and basis of a Moral Philo-
sophy which is to be proof against sceptical objections. In
Ethics, as in many other branches of knowledge, the plain man
who is content to know particular things without knowing the
ultimate meaning and basis of knowledge itself, can get along
without any Metaphysic at all ; but when we are confronted
by difficulties or objections based upon a bad Metaphysic, the
only solution of them must be found in a better one. And,
when once the common-sense knowledge of Morality begins
to pass into a systematic study of Ethics, these objections are
likely to meet us very early and very persistently. There may
be a practical Morality, or even a more or less scientific attempt
to analyse and formulate practical Ethics, without Metaphysic,
but a purely ethical Science which attempts to avoid Metaphysic
must correspond very imperfectly with our idea of Philosophy.
A sound theory of Morality implies a sound theory of know-
ledge.
Ill
From another point of view our metaphysical difficulties may
take the form of doubts about the reality of that self which
is presupposed by every constructive Morality. And the answer to
those doubts must be the same which has to be made to empirical
theories of knowledge. To show that in talking about a self we
are talking about something real, we must begin by proving that
the existence of a continuous self is implied in all knowledge.
Knowledge comes to us piece by piece ; and, if we cannot treat
the successive moments of our conscious life as successive moments
of a continuously existing self, these successive experiences can
never be built up into a single world. Deny the reality of the
self, and you have no ground for believing in the existence of
a world which is only known on the assumption of that reality.
Or, from a slightly different point of view, we may urge that
objects are known to us only as the correlative of a subject ; at
least therefore we may contend that the subject is as real as the
object, even if we do not (with the thorough-going Idealist)
go on to infer that the object exists only in relation to, or
as the ' other ' of. a subject. Given the existence of a self which
200 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
cannot be broken up into a succession of isolated feelings or
ideas or psychical atoms of any kind, and which cannot be
treated as the mere attribute or accident of a material organism,
Morality becomes possible. The actions of the individual can be
treated as the work of a single self which has a definite character
of its own, a spiritual character which expresses itself in those
actions, and which is susceptible of spiritual changes and
amenable to spiritual influences.
And something more must be implied than simply the
existence of the self and its activity in knowledge. It is a pre-
supposition of all Morality that the self is the cause of its own
actions. In what sense precisely this must be asserted we shall
have to consider further in our chapter on Free-will. Meanwhile
I need only notice in passing that this postulate of Ethics is
implicitly or explicitly denied by two schools by the school
which regards the self as a mere accident or attribute or bye-
product of material processes (a view which cannot be further
discussed in this place), and by the school which so completely
merges Will in Reason and the individual Reason in the uni-
versal Reason that there ceases to be any difference between the
acts of the man and those events in Nature or those actions of
other men l for which no one dreams of holding the individual
himself to be in any sense ' responsible/ All alike natural
events, the actions popularly spoken of as those of other men,
1 This objection is not removed by the simple admission that the mind that
makes Reality is Will. Schopenhauer, while he avoids the mistake of identi-
fying the Absolute with Reason, destroys the ethical value of his position by
so completely identifying the individual with the universal Will that he*
regards the individual's sufferings as a just punishment for the original sin
committed by the universal unconscious Will in giving birth to consciousness
and so to the world, before he, the individual sufferer, was born a position
to which orthodox Theologians have sometimes approximated in their des-
perate attempts to justify immoral theories of Atonement. Schopenhauer
quotes with approbation Calderon's saying, that * the greatest crime of
man is that he ever was born * (The World as Will and Idea, trans, by Haldane
and Kemp, I, pp. 328, 458). Where a man is made in some transcendental
sense responsible for the sins which he did not commit, the practical effect
is to relieve him from responsibility for those which he did commit. Von
Hartmann has pointed out that Schopenhauer's acceptance of Kant's
'noumenal freedom' in Ethics implies the existence of an individual self
which is not recognized by his general Metaphysic.
Chap.i,iii] AN ACTIVE SELF 201
and his own individual actions become according to this view
mere happenings of which he is conscious but of which he is not
the cause, or of which he is only the cause in the sense in which he
may equally be called the cause of all other happenings in Nature.
By this school the most splendid compliments are indeed paid to
c the Ego/ The Ego makes * Nature/ but only in the sense that
it knows Nature in the sense, that is, that apart from know-
ledge there would be no Nature. The self makes Nature not
because it determines of what sort Nature shall be, but just
because it cannot help Nature being what it is. The very
identity of principle between God or the ' Universal Self -con-
sciousness ' and the individual self is made the ground for
despoiling the latter of any responsibility for its own actions
which it does not possess for the events of the world in general.
Nor can an illusory share in the responsibility for the Universe
and its history be regarded as any satisfactory equivalent for
the loss of any individual causality ; for, when we turn to the
relation between God and the world, we discover that that
relation too is resolved into a relation between the knowing
subject and the things which it knows. No Causality is recog-
nized in the Universe except the necessary connexion of thought
between phenomenal antecedent and phenomenal consequent,
Between the events of the world and the subject without
which it would not be, there is no relation of Causality at all,
God is the universal Thinker (if indeed He is not resolved intc
Thought without a Thinker), but He is not a Universal Wilier,
In the same way the actions which the individual self knows
are not in any case whatever the events which it causes, but just
the events which it cannot help. If Causality is recognized at
all in regard to human actions, it is recognized only in the same
sense in which Causality is recognized between one natural event
and another. The fact that the antecedents of human action are
facts of consciousness makes no difference to their essential
character. We have a 'psychological mechanism* instead of
a physical mechanism ; that is the only difference. It is not the
self (individual or universal) that is the cause of the action, but
an event in consciousness which is the cause of other events in
consciousness. The self does not cause these events, but simply
METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
looks on while they happen. Actions are regarded as causing
one another in just as mechanical a way as that in which the
movements of a billiard ball are determined by antecedent move-
ments. If the series of events which make up the conscious life
of the individual may in a sense be spoken of as a kind of self,
this is merely the so-called ' phenomenal self T ' ; quite a different
self from the self to which the categories of knowledge, and con-
sequently in some sense the existence of Nature itself, are attri-
buted. This phenomenal or empirical self is persistently degraded
to the level of a merely animal sensibility ; it is the tendency of the
school in question hardly to distinguish between the individual's
voluntary actions and events in unconscious nature. No doubt
the presentation to the self of the successive events which we
call human actions is necessary to their happening, but this self
is not individual but Universal, and the presence of this world-
making Self is only necessary to human actions in the same
sense in which it is necessary to other events in the world's
history. It causes neither the one nor the other.
How fatal are these ideas to the conception of duty, of moral
responsibility or imputability, of an objective moral law to which
the individual self is subject, need hardly be pointed out ; nor
will it have escaped the reader how nearly we have arrived by
a different route at the same position as that which is involved in
the theory of a purely materialistic Automatism according to
which spirits and spiritual or psychical states are never causes
but always effects the accidental bye-products or 'epipheno-
mena' of physical changes which determine one another (and
their psychical concomitants) in a purely mechanical manner.
Both theories refuse to attribute human actions to a self;
both attribute them to the Absolute or ultimate Reality. That
Reality may be differently conceived of by the two theories ; the
one may conceive of it materialistically, and the other spiritual-
istically ; but in either case we have no room for attributing the
causality of any human action to a real human self. And this
is exactly what the ethical point of view involves. In what
3 For the school in question tends to abolish the individual ' noumenal
self of Kant. It recognizes no * noumenal 1 self but the Universal Self-
consciousness.
Chap, i, iii] UNIVERSAL AND INDIVIDUAL SELF 203
relation the individual life and its activities may stand to the
Universal Will and its volitions, in what sense all the events of
Nature may be attributed to the Universal Self, what is the
relation between the Reason and the Will in the Universal Self
these are no doubt matters about which many questions may
be asked. But that in some intelligible sense, primarily and
immediately, actions may be attributed to the individual self
as their cause and are good or bad according as the self is good
or bad that is the starting-point and primary postulate of
Ethics. Wherein and in what sense this ethical point of view
may be regarded as ultimate, whether it is the truth and the
whole truth, or merely a truth which holds at a ' certain level of
thought,' are questions of which something will be said here-
after. But that these propositions possess objective truth, and
are not as a mere seeming which adequate philosophic insight
can reduce to a delusion, must be declared to be a primary and
absolutely essential presupposition of every system of Ethics
which can attribute any meaning to the word * ought/ And
the very fact that this assumption is a postulate of Ethics is by
itself a sufficient reason for declaring that it possesses meta-
physical truth. It is implied in the idea of Morality, and the
idea of Morality is a datum of the moral consciousness ; and the
data of consciousness are the only ground which we have for
believing anything at all. No doubt this, like all other im-
mediate data of consciousness, has to be harmonized and recon-
ciled with other data of consciousness, if it can be shown that
there is any prim a facie collision or irreconcilability between
them, but there is, to say the least of it, an enormous presump-
tion against any ' harmonization ' or ' conciliation ' which turns
such an ultimate datum of consciousness into a mere illusion.
To this subject we shall return hereafter: meanwhile I shall
merely insist that the existence of our moral ideas has as good a
right to be taken into consideration in the construction of our
ultimate theory of Universe as any other kind of fact. We must
not reject the deliverances of the moral Consciousness merely
because they are inconsistent with some metaphysical theory
which has been arrived at without taking those deliverances into
consideration.
204 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
It may be asked against precisely what school or what in-
dividual writers these criticisms are directed. I will not attempt
to discuss how far they are justly attributed to Hegel l . I will
only say that it is a point of view which is implied in at least
one interpretation of Hegel ; and that interpretation of Hegel is
precisely the one which has most powerfully influenced, to say
the least of it, those through whom Hegelian ways of thinking
have become common among English students of Ethics. To
say without qualification or reserve that the mode of thought
above indicated was that of Thomas Hill Green would be unfair
and one-sided. As a Moralist, no one recognized more earnestly
than Green the facts of moral responsibility and imputability ;
but that there is a logical hiatus between Green's ethical system
and the metaphysical system with which he sought to connect it
is coming to be very generally recognized both among those who
sympathize with, and by those who dissent from, Green's practical
attitude towards Morality 2 . If no individual self is recognized
except a merely phenomenal or psychological self, if the self
which is active in Morality is identical with the ' spiritual prin-
ciple not in time ' implied by all our knowledge, if this * principle
not in time ' is further identified with a Universal Self -conscious-
ness which is regarded as Reason and is denied Causality or
volition, it is difficult to see how Green can escape the conse-
quences which I have suggested. No doubt much is to be found
in Green's writings which is inconsistent with such a view. We
read much of the strivings of the self (presumably of the indivi-
dual self) after ' self-satisfaction/ of the self imputing to itself
its own actions, of God as a Mind which, though He does not act
or will or feel or love, has some vague and undefined connexion
with the moral law. But how a timeless self can find a satis-
1 If we substitute for a ' Universal Self-consciousness ' the idea of God
considered under the attribute of Thought, and recognize that (in his view)
the Thought manifests itself only in individual selves, it may be said fairly
to represent (as far as it goes) Spinoza's attitude toward Ethics. Here, as in
other matters, Spinoza held, with full and explicit consciousness, the view
of the world to which Hegelianism tends, but which the practical aims of
its exponents have often prevented their explicitly recognizing.
9 Green's ethical views are most fully expounded in his Prolegomena to
Ethics, 1883.
Chap, i, iii] THE EGO IN GEEEN 205
faction, not previously experienced, in human actions which
have a beginning in time ; how a self which is not differentiated
(except perhaps on the side of the animal organism) from the
Universal Self-consciousness can impute to itself its good or bad
acts without imputing them in exactly the same sense and
degree to the Universal Self-consciousness ; how any events at
all can be ' imputed ' to a self which thinks all things but origi-
nates nothing these are questions which it would be difficult to
answer in a satisfactory manner without glossing the text of
Green's writings altogether past recognition.
Many minds will no doubt regard a system of Moral Philo-
sophy as very incomplete which does not set out with a much
more detailed and elaborate analysis of the self than is to be
found in these pages. No doubt a Moral Philosopher may, if he
chooses, properly devote much more time than I have done either
to the metaphysical, or again to the psychological, treatment of
the self. I am far from depreciating the importance of either
sort of enquiry. I can only repeat that I have not gone into
greater detail because (a) it seemed to me that an elaborate and
detailed investigation of the nature of the self from a moral
point of view cannot easily be separated from the whole body
of metaphysical and psychological questions which can be raised
about the self; and (b) because I should contend that in the
whole of the preceding pages I have really been engaged in
examining the nature of the self, in so far as that nature is a
matter of directly ethical import. The conclusions to which we
have come have most important metaphysical consequences
consequences which it belongs to Metaphysic proper to develope
and trace out. But I do not consider that these conclusions are
prima facie inconsistent with any metaphysical theory about the
self which recognizes (a) that the self is a permanent reality ; (6) that
that reality is spiritual, in so far as it has a permanent life of its
own not identical with the changes of the material organism with
which it is (in whatever way) connected ; (c) that the acts of the
man really proceed from and express the nature or character of
the self *. I call the existence of such a self a primary postu-
late of Ethics, because without it we can recognize no meaning
1 This point will be dealt with more at length in the chapter on Free-will.
2c6 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
in the language which we are compelled at every moment to use
in all ethical discussion. It is the postulate without which we
cannot even set out on our ethical journey. Whether there are
any other postulates of Ethics ; whether, as we proceed with our
attempt to understand and systematize the facts of our moral
life and to co-ordinate them with other facts, we are not irre-
sistibly led on to make further metaphysical demands ; whether
there are not in this secondary sense some further ' postulates of
Ethics/ we must now proceed to enquire.
IV
We have seen that certain metaphysical presuppositions as to
the nature of knowledge and the nature of the self are necessary
to the very existence of an ethical system which can be regarded
as representing and justifying the deliverances of the moral
consciousness. When we have admitted that knowledge is not
mere subjective feeling or passive experience, that the self is as
real as or more real than any ' thing ' of which Physical Science
can tell us, and that the self causes certain events which are
commonly spoken of as its actions, then we are able to recognize
the reality of duty, of ideals, of a good which includes right
conduct. And prima facie it might appear that the truth and
validity of these ideals are independent of any particular con-
clusions as to the ultimate nature of things which go beyond
these simple presuppositions. The man who wishes to see any
meaning in the deliverances of his own moral consciousness and
to represent to himself the attempt to live up to the ideal
which they set before him as an intelligible and rational aim,
must assume this much about knowledge and about the self;
but it may possibly be contended that he need assume nothing
further about the ultimate nature of things, except that it is
a Universe, part of whose nature is to produce this moral con-
sciousness of his. And it is no doubt true that the Agnostic
(in Metaphysic or Theology) cannot be convicted of any positive
inconsistency, if he simply accepts the dictates of his moral con-
sciousness as final, and says : ' I know nothing as to the ultimate
source of these moral ideas, except that they come to me in the
same way as the rest of my knowledge, or anything as to the
Chap, i, iv] MORALITY AND AGNOSTICISM 207
ultimate outcome of this moral life which I feel to be incumbent
upon me. I simply know the meaning of the good, and that
it is right for me to aim at it, and that I can. to some extent,
bring it into existence by my voluntary action.' Psychologically
this attitude is a possible one. The term ' good ' or ' right ' does
not contain any explicit reference to any theological or meta-
physical theory of the Universe. The proposition that some
things are right, others wrong, is not in any sense an inference
or deduction from any such theory ; it is an immediate datum or
deliverance of consciousness. The truth is assented to, and acted
upon, by men of all religions or of none, by persons who hold
most dissimilar views as to the ultimate nature of the Universe,
and by men who profess to have no theory of the Universe at all.
And it is impossible to say that the words ' good ' and ' right '
have no meaning for such persons or an entirely different mean-
ing from what they have for the Metaphysician who refuses
to acquiesce in Agnosticism. In this sense it is of the highest
possible importance to recognize what is sometimes spoken of as
the ' independence of Morality/ But it remains a further ques-
tion whether the true meaning of Morality is capable of being
made explicit, and of being reconciled or harmonized with other
facts of our knowledge or experience without necessitating
the adoption of certain views concerning the ultimate nature
of things and the rejection of certain other views. If this should
turn out to be the case, Morality will be in exactly the same
position as any other part of our knowledge. So long as we
refuse to bring any piece of our knowledge or experience into
connexion with any other part of it, the particular piece of
knowledge cannot be shown to be either consistent or incon-
sistent with such other parts of our knowledge. So long as that
is the case, it may no doubt from a high metaphysical attitude
be maintained that this knowledge may not be altogether true,
since it may require to be corrected and limited in order to bring
it into harmony with other parts of our knowledge : for the only
test that we have of the validity of any part of our knowledge
is its capacity for being harmonized or co-ordinated with the rest
of it. But, from a rough practical point of view, it is possible to
be certain of the truth of Science without holding any meta-
ao8 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
physical position at all : and in that sense it is equally possible
to combine a strong conviction of the reality or objective validity
of moral distinctions with complete Agnosticism as to the general
nature of the Universe, though in practice Agnosticism is very
apt to involve negative assumptions the irreconcilability of which
with what is implied in the idea of moral obligation, can with diffi-
culty remain unrecognized. But after all the question remains
whether this refusal to bring one part of our knowledge into con-
nexion with the rest is a reasonable attitude of mind. It is always
easy to escape inconsistency by resolutely shutting our eyes to a
portion of the facts, by refusing to think or by arbitrarily stopping
the process of thought at some particular point l . When we ask
whether a certain intellectual attitude is ultimately reasonable,
we presuppose that we are making up our minds to look at the
whole of the facts. Agnosticism is not a reasonable attitude
of mind when it is possible to know. And the question arises
whether, when the attempt to harmonize and so to justify our
beliefs is honestly made, the man who wishes to defend and
rationalize his practical recognition of moral obligation may not
be forced into the alternative of giving up his ethical creed or of
giving up certain views of the Universe which reflection has
shown to be inconsistent with that creed.
Are there then any metaphysical positions about the ultimate
nature of things which logically exclude the idea of an objective
Moral Law ? Let us suppose, for instance, that, without giving
up that bare minimum of metaphysical belief about the self
which we have found to be absolutely presupposed in the very
idea of Morality, a man has nevertheless adopted a materialistic
1 The strongest assertion of the validity of the idea of duty that has ever
been made from an agnostic point of view is perhaps to be found in Huxley's
brilliant Romanes Lecture on Evolution and Ethics (Collected Essays, Vol. IX).
It is interesting to see how near the contention that Natural and Moral Law
have equal validity brings him to the admission that they have ultimately
a common source. What Huxley refuses to ask is whether the validity of
the Moral Law does not throw some light upon the nature of that Reality
which is revealed both by Physical Law and by Moral Law whether the
belief that we ought to resist the ' cosmic process ' and the impulse to act
upon that belief are not as much a product of the Cosmos, and a revelation
of its ultimate nature, as those physical and psychological tendencies which
Morality bids us resist.
Chap, i, iv] MORALITY AND NATURALISM 209
or naturalistic view of the world to this extent that he believes
that the origin of the self, and of the knowledge which resides in
the self, may actually be traced to certain material processes
of a Reality in which previously no mind resided except as
a 'promise and potency* of the future. Such a man is not,
indeed, technically in the most thorough-going sense of the word
a Materialist if he admits that after all a true view of the
Universe must include a recognition of the spiritual nature which
the Universe has ultimately, by whatever process, evolved. And
it is quite right to emphasize the difference between a position
of this kind and the old confused puzzle-headed Materialism which
was inclined to look on matter and motion as real things and on
thought, feeling (with perhaps some not very logical exception in
favour of pleasure and pain), emotion, aspiration, ideals as mere
arbitrary inventions or hallucinations. But, putting aside for
the present the purely metaphysical difficulties of such a position,
we have to ask how it must affect our attitude towards Morality.
So long as the ultimate reality of things is regarded as purely
material, so long as material process is regarded as the sole cause
or source or ground of mind and all its contents, there is always
the possibility of scepticism as to the knowledge of which this
material world has somehow delivered itself. Our knowledge
may be conceived of as representing, not the real truth of things,
but the way in which it is most conducive to the survival of the
race that we should think of them. Error and delusion may be
valuable elements in Evolution ; to a certain extent it is un-
deniable, from any metaphysical standpoint, that they have
actually been so. But on the naturalistic view of things the
doubt arises not merely whether this or that particular belief
of ours is a delusion, but whether human thought in general may
not wholly fail to correspond with Reality, whether thought
qua thought may not be a delusion, whether (to put it still more
paradoxically) the more rational a man's thought becomes, the
more faithfully the individual adheres to the canons of human
Reason, the wider may be the gulf between his thinking and
the facts. Arguments might no doubt be found for putting
away such an ' unmotived ' doubt as to the trustworthiness of
our knowledge about ordinary matters of fact its self-con-
RASHDALL II P
210 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
sistency, the constant correspondence of the predictions which it
makes with subsequent experience, the practical serviceableness
for the purposes of life of its assumed validity, and the useless-
ness of entertaining doubts as to, the trustworthiness of our
faculties which from the nature of the case can be neither con-
firmed nor refuted ; though after all such arguments at bottom
assume the validity of thought. But these considerations do not
apply in the same degree to moral knowledge. It is often possible
to explain in a sense this or that particular ethical belief by the
history of the race, the environment of the individual, and the
like. Such considerations do not shake belief in the ultimate
validity of moral distinctions for an Idealist who believes that the
Universe owes its very existence to the Mind which assures him
of these distinctions (though he is aware that the evolution of his
individual mind has been conditioned by physical processes and
social environment) ; but they wear a totally different aspect for
one who has no general a priori reason for assuming a corre-
spondence of thought with things *. The Idealist has every reason
for believing the ultimate moral ideas to be true that he has for
believing any other ideas to be true, though he realizes that he
does not know the whole truth, and that his knowledge of this or
ignorance of that element in the moral ideal (like his knowledge
or ignorance of ordinary scientific truth) is in part explicable by
the accident of antecedents or environment. But to the man
who regards all spiritual life as a mere inexplicable incident in
the career of a world which is essentially material (were it not
for the human and animal minds which it is known to have
produced) and as a whole essentially purposeless, there is no con-
clusive reason why all moral ideas the very conception of
1 value/ the very notion that one thing is intrinsically better
than another, the very conviction that there is something which
a man ought to do may not be merely some strange illusion due
1 I am quite alive to the difficulties involved in the 'correspondence
theory ' as to the nature of Truth, which have been brilliantly developed by
Mr. Joachim in his recent Essay on The Nature of Truth, and it is one which
no Idealist can well regard as the final and ultimate account of the matter,
but any discussion of such a question would be quite out of place in an
ethical treatise. Mr. Joachim would no doubt admit that we cannot help
employing such language in such a connexion as the present.
Chap. i,iv] OBJECTIVITY OF MORAL LAW
to the unaccountable freaks of a mindless process or to the
exigencies of natural selection. It cannot be said that a man
who allowed such doubts to shake or modify his allegiance to
the dictates of Morality, where they do not happen to coincide
with his actual desires or inclinations, would be doing anything
essentially unreasonable. Reasonable conduct would for him
mean merely ' conduct conformable to his own private reason ' :
intrinsically or absolutely reasonable or unreasonable conduct
could not exist in a world which was not itself the product
of Reason or governed by its dictates.
Another way of putting much the same difficulty is this. We
say that the Moral Law has a real existence, that there is
such a thing as an absolute Morality, that there is something
absolutely true or false in ethical judgements, whether we or
any number of human beings at any given time actually think
so or not. Such a belief is distinctly implied in what we mean
by Morality. The idea of such an unconditional, objectively
valid, Moral Law or ideal undoubtedly exists as a psychological
fact. The question before us is whether it is capable of theo-
retical justification. We must then face the question where such
an ideal exists, and what manner of existence we are to attribute
to it. Certainly it is to be found, wholly and completely, in no
individual human consciousness. Men actually think differently
about moral questions, and there is no empirical reason for sup-
posing that they will ever do otherwise. Where then and how
does the moral ideal really exist ? As regards matters of fact or
physical law, we have no difficulty in satisfying ourselves that
there is an objective reality which is what it is irrespectively of
our beliefs or disbeliefs about it. For the man who supposes
that objective reality resides in the things themselves, our ideas
about them are objectively true or false so far as they correspond
or fail to correspond with this real and independent archetype,
though he might be puzzled to give a metaphysical account
of the nature of this * correspondence ' between experience and
a Reality whose ease is something other than to be experienced.
In the physical region the existence of divergent ideas does not
throw doubt upon the existence of a reality independent of our
ideas. But in the case of moral ideals it is otherwise. On
212 METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
materialistic or naturalistic assumptions the moral ideal can
hardly be regarded as a real thing. Nor could it well be
regarded as a property of any real thing : it can be no more
than an aspiration, a product of the imagination, which may
be useful to stimulate effort in directions in which we happen to
want to move, but which cannot compel respect when we feel
no desire to act in conformity with it. An absolute Moral Law
or moral ideal cannot exist in material things. And it does not
(we have seen) exist in the mind of this or that individual.
Only if we believe in the existence of a Mind for which the true
moral ideal is already in some sense real, a Mind which is the
source of whatever is true in our own moral judgements, can we
rationally think of the moral ideal as no less real than the world
itself. Only so can we believe in an absolute standard of right
and wrong, which is as independent of this or that man's actual
ideas and actual desires as the facts of material nature. The
belief in God, though not (like the belief in a real and an active
self) a postulate of there being any such thing as Morality at all,
is the logical presupposition of an * objective ' or absolute Morality.
A moral ideal can exist nowhere and nohow but in a mind ; an
absolute moral ideal can exist only in a Mind from which all
Reality is derived *. Our moral ideal can only claim objective
validity in so far as it can rationally be regarded as the revela-
tion of a moral ideal eternally existing in the mind of God.
We may be able,perhaps,to give some meaning to Morality with-
out the postulate of God, but not its true or full meaning. If the
existence of God is not a postulate of all Morality, it is a postu-
late of a sound Morality ; for it is essential to that belief which
vaguely and implicitly underlies all moral beliefs, and which
forms the very heart of Morality in its highest, more developed,
more explicit forms. The truth that the moral ideal is what it
is whether we like it or not is the most essential element in what
the popular consciousness understands by * moral obligation/
Moral obligation means moral objectivity. That at least seems
to be implied in any legitimate use of the term : at least it im-
1 Or at least a mind by which all Reality is controlled. Want of space
forbids my discussing the ethical aspect of Pluralism or of a theory which
regards spirits other than God as having no beginning.
Chap, i, v] MORALITY AND THEISM 213
plies the existence of an absolute, objective moral ideal. And
such a belief we have seen imperatively to demand an explana-
tion of the Universe which shall be idealistic or at least spiritual-
istic, which shall recognize the existence of a Mind whose
thoughts are the standard of truth and falsehood alike in
Morality and in respect of all other existence. In other words,
objective Morality implies the belief in God. The belief in God,
if not so obviously and primarily a postulate of Morality as the
belief in a permanent spiritual and active self, is still a postulate
of a Morality which shall be able fully to satisfy the demands
of the moral consciousness. It may conveniently be called the
secondary postulate of Morality.
That belief in God involves something more than the belief
that there is a universal Mind for which and in which the moral
ideal exists. There can be no meaning in the idea of Morality for
a Being who is mere Thought and not Will. If human Morality is
a revelation, however imperfect, of the ultimate nature of Reality,
it must represent, not merely an ideal existing in and for the
Mind which is the ultimate source or ground of Reality, but also
the nature of the end towards which that Reality is moving.
The very idea of Morality implies action directed towards an
end which has value. If the value of 'good' has its counter-
part in the divine Mind, the course of events is itself governed
by the same Mind which is the source of our moral ideas, and
must be ultimately directed towards the end which the true moral
ideal, disclosed however imperfectly in the moral consciousness
of man, sets us up as the goal and canon of human conduct.
The Universe itself must have a purpose or rational end, a pur-
pose which commends itself as reasonable to the Mind which
wills it : and the nature of that end must be at least in part
disclosed by our moral judgements. What valid human judge-
ments pronounce to be good must be part of the divine end, and
the rest of that end must be such as could, consistently with the
principles governing these human judgements of value, be pro-
nounced good.
That an objectively valid Morality implies belief in the funda-
METAPHYSIC AND MORALITY [Book III
mental rationality of the Universe will no doubt be admitted by
some thinkers whose belief about its ultimate nature falls more
or less short of what is commonly understood by Theism, who
do not believe that Nature is (as a genuine Theist, like Lotze,
holds) an effect whose cause is God, or at least who decline to
think of that God as ' personal/ Intense belief in a rational
principle behind nature combined with much vagueness about
the personal, or even the self-conscious nature, of that principle
meets us already in the writings of Plato. And a similar vague-
ness, which might have been supposed to belong to a stage of
human thought in which the distinction between subject and
object, mind and matter, thought and will, was still imperfectly
grasped, has beset the path of philosophic thought in later times.
I have not space to defend the position here taken up, or to meet
the objections which will at once be raised in many quarters ;
but I will simply state that to my own mind the only form in
which belief in the rationality of the Universe is intelligible is
the form which ascribes the events of its history to a self-con-
scious rational Will directing itself towards an end which
presents itself to Him as absolutely good l . However inadequate
our conceptions of 'Will/ < Mind/ < Purpose/ ' Reason/ Personality/
may be to express the nature of such a Being, they are the best
we have. Thought does not become more adequate by becoming
vaguer. It is not the limitations inherent in human personality
that w 
