ULTIMATE GOOD
§ 1. At the outset of this treatise[300] I noticed that there are
two forms in which the object of ethical inquiry is considered; it
is sometimes regarded as a Rule or Rules of Conduct, ‘the Right,’
sometimes as an end or ends, ‘the Good.’ I pointed out that in the
moral consciousness of modern Europe the two notions are _prima facie_
distinct; since while it is commonly thought that the obligation
to obey moral rules is absolute, it is not commonly held that the
whole Good of man lies in such obedience; this view, we may say,
is--vaguely and respectfully but unmistakably--repudiated as a Stoical
paradox. The ultimate Good or Wellbeing of man is rather regarded as
an ulterior result, the connexion of which with his Right Conduct
is indeed commonly held to be certain, but is frequently conceived
as supernatural, and so beyond the range of independent ethical
speculation. But now, if the conclusions of the preceding chapters are
to be trusted, it would seem that the practical determination of Right
Conduct depends on the determination of Ultimate Good. For we have
seen (_a_) that most of the commonly received maxims of Duty--even of
those which at first sight appear absolute and independent--are found
when closely examined to contain an implicit subordination to the more
general principles of Prudence and Benevolence: and (_b_) that no
principles except these, and the formal principle of Justice or Equity
can be admitted as at once intuitively clear and certain; while, again,
these principles themselves, so far as they are self-evident, may be
stated as precepts to seek (1) one’s own good on the whole, repressing
all seductive impulses prompting to undue preference of particular
goods, and (2) others’ good no less than one’s own, repressing any
undue preference for one individual over another. Thus we are brought
round again to the old question with which ethical speculation in
Europe began, ‘What is the Ultimate Good for man?’--though not in the
egoistic form in which the old question was raised. When, however, we
examine the controversies to which this question originally led, we
see that the investigation which has brought us round to it has tended
definitely to exclude one of the answers which early moral reflection
was disposed to give to it. For to say that ‘General Good’ consists
solely in general Virtue,--if we mean by Virtue conformity to such
prescriptions and prohibitions as make up the main part of the morality
of Common Sense--would obviously involve us in a logical circle; since
we have seen that the exact determination of these prescriptions and
prohibitions must depend on the definition of this General Good.
Nor, I conceive, can this argument be evaded by adopting the view of
what I have called ‘Æsthetic Intuitionism’ and regarding Virtues as
excellences of conduct clearly discernible by trained insight, although
their nature does not admit of being stated in definite formulæ. For
our notions of special virtues do not really become more independent
by becoming more indefinite: they still contain, though perhaps more
latently, the same reference to ‘Good’ or ‘Wellbeing’ as an ultimate
standard. This appears clearly when we consider any virtue in relation
to the cognate vice--or at least _non-virtue_--into which it tends to
pass over when pushed to an extreme, or exhibited under inappropriate
conditions. For example, Common Sense may seem to regard Liberality,
Frugality, Courage, Placability, as intrinsically desirable: but
when we consider their relation respectively to Profusion, Meanness,
Foolhardiness, Weakness, we find that Common Sense draws the line
in each case not by immediate intuition, but by reference either to
some definite maxim of duty, or to the general notion of ‘Good’ or
Wellbeing: and similarly when we ask at what point Candour, Generosity,
Humility cease to be virtues by becoming ‘excessive.’ Other qualities
commonly admired, such as Energy, Zeal, Self-control, Thoughtfulness,
are obviously regarded as virtues only when they are directed to
good ends. In short, the only so-called Virtues which can be thought
to be essentially and always such, and incapable of excess, are such
qualities as Wisdom, Universal Benevolence, and (in a sense) Justice;
of which the notions manifestly involve this notion of Good, supposed
already determinate. Wisdom is insight into Good and the means to
Good; Benevolence is exhibited in the purposive actions called “doing
Good”: Justice (when regarded as essentially and always a Virtue) lies
in distributing Good (or evil) impartially according to right rules.
If then we are asked what is this Good which it is excellent to know,
to bestow on others, to distribute impartially, it would be obviously
absurd to reply that it is just this knowledge, these beneficent
purposes, this impartial distribution.
Nor, again, can I perceive that this difficulty is in any way met by
regarding Virtue as a quality of “character” rather than of “conduct,”
and expressing the moral law in the form, “Be this,” instead of the
form “Do this.”[301] From a practical point of view, indeed, I fully
recognise the importance of urging that men should aim at an ideal
of character, and consider action in its effects on character. But I
cannot infer from this that character and its elements--faculties,
habits, or dispositions of any kind--are the constituents of Ultimate
Good. It seems to me that the opposite is implied in the very
conception of a faculty or disposition; it can only be defined as a
tendency to act or feel in a certain way under certain conditions; and
such a tendency appears to me clearly not valuable in itself but for
the acts and feelings in which it takes effect, or for the ulterior
consequences of these,--which consequences, again, cannot be regarded
as Ultimate Good, so long as they are merely conceived as modifications
of faculties, dispositions, etc. When, therefore, I say that effects
on character are important, it is a summary way of saying that by the
laws of our mental constitution the present act or feeling is a cause
tending to modify importantly our acts and feelings in the indefinite
future: the comparatively permanent result supposed to be produced
in the mind or soul, being a tendency that will show itself in an
indefinite number of particular acts and feelings, may easily be more
important, in relation to the ultimate end, than a single act or the
transient feeling of a single moment: but its comparative permanence
appears to me no ground for regarding it as itself a constituent of
ultimate good.
§ 2. So far, however, I have been speaking only of particular virtues,
as exhibited in conduct judged to be objectively right: and it may be
argued that this is too external a view of the Virtue that claims to
constitute Ultimate Good. It may be said that the difficulty that I
have been urging vanishes if we penetrate beyond the particular virtues
to the root and essence of virtue in general,--the determination of
the will to do whatever is judged to be right and to aim at realising
whatever is judged to be best--; since this subjective rightness or
goodness of will, being independent of knowledge of what is objectively
right or good, is independent of that presupposition of Good as already
known and determined, which we have seen to be implied in the common
conceptions of virtue as manifested in outward acts. I admit that if
subjective rightness or goodness of Will is affirmed to be the Ultimate
Good, the affirmation does not exactly involve the logical difficulty
that I have been urging. None the less is it fundamentally opposed to
Common Sense; since the very notion of subjective rightness or goodness
of will implies an objective standard, which it directs us to seek, but
does not profess to supply. It would be a palpable and violent paradox
to set before the right-seeking mind no end except this right-seeking
itself, and to affirm this to be the sole Ultimate Good, denying
that any effects of right volition can be in themselves good, except
the subjective rightness of future volitions, whether of self or of
others. It is true that no rule can be recognised, by any reasonable
individual, as more authoritative than the rule of doing what he judges
to be right; for, in deliberating with a view to my own immediate
action, I cannot distinguish between doing what is objectively right,
and realising my own subjective conception of rightness. But we are
continually forced to make the distinction as regards the actions
of others and to judge that conduct may be objectively wrong though
subjectively right: and we continually judge conduct to be objectively
wrong because it tends to cause pain and loss of happiness to
others,--apart from any effect on the subjective rightness of their
volitions. It is as so judging that we commonly recognise the mischief
and danger of fanaticism:--meaning by a fanatic a man who resolutely
and unswervingly carries out his own conception of rightness, when it
is a plainly mistaken conception.
The same result may be reached even without supposing so palpable a
divorce between subjective and objective rightness of volition as
is implied in the notion of fanaticism. As I have already pointed
out,[302] though the ‘dictates of Reason’ are always to be obeyed, it
does not follow that ‘the dictation of Reason’--the predominance of
consciously moral over non-moral motives--is to be promoted without
limits; and indeed Common Sense appears to hold that some things
are likely to be better done, if they are done from other motives
than conscious obedience to practical Reason or Conscience. It thus
becomes a practical question how far the dictation of Reason, the
predominance of moral choice and moral effort in human life, is a
result to be aimed at: and the admission of this question implies that
conscious rightness of volition is not the sole ultimate good. On the
whole, then, we may conclude that neither (1) subjective rightness or
goodness of volition, as distinct from objective, nor (2) virtuous
character, except as manifested or realised in virtuous conduct, can be
regarded as constituting Ultimate Good: while, again, we are precluded
from identifying Ultimate Good with virtuous conduct, because our
conceptions of virtuous conduct, under the different heads or aspects
denoted by the names of the particular virtues, have been found to
presuppose the prior determination of the notion of Good--that Good
which virtuous conduct is conceived as producing or promoting or
rightly distributing.
And what has been said of Virtue, seems to me still more manifestly
true of the other talents, gifts, and graces which make up the common
notion of human excellence or Perfection. However immediately the
excellent quality of such gifts and skills may be recognised and
admired, reflection shows that they are only valuable on account of
the good or desirable conscious life in which they are or will be
actualised, or which will be somehow promoted by their exercise.
§ 3. Shall we then say that Ultimate Good is Good or Desirable
conscious or sentient Life--of which Virtuous action is one element,
but not the sole constituent? This seems in harmony with Common Sense;
and the fact that particular virtues and talents and gifts are largely
valued as means to ulterior good does not necessarily prevent us from
regarding their exercise as also an element of Ultimate Good: just as
the fact that physical action, nutrition, and repose, duly proportioned
and combined, are means to the maintenance of our animal life, does
not prevent us from regarding them as indispensable elements of such
life. Still it seems difficult to conceive any kind of activity or
process as both means and end, from precisely the same point of view
and in respect of precisely the same quality: and in both the cases
above mentioned it is, I think, easy to distinguish the aspect in
which the activities or processes in question are to be regarded as
means from that in which they are to be regarded as in themselves
good or desirable. Let us examine this first in the case of the
physical processes. It is in their purely physical aspect, as complex
processes of corporeal change, that they are means to the maintenance
of life: but so long as we confine our attention to their corporeal
aspect,--regarding them merely as complex movements of certain
particles of organised matter--it seems impossible to attribute to
these movements, considered in themselves, either goodness or badness.
I cannot conceive it to be an ultimate end of rational action to secure
that these complex movements should be of one kind rather than another,
or that they should be continued for a longer rather than a shorter
period. In short, if a certain quality of human Life is that which is
ultimately desirable, it must belong to human Life regarded on its
psychical side, or, briefly, Consciousness.
But again: it is not all life regarded on its psychical side which we
can judge to be ultimately desirable: since psychical life as known to
us includes pain as well as pleasure, and so far as it is painful it
is not desirable. I cannot therefore accept a view of the wellbeing or
welfare of human beings--as of other living things--which is suggested
by current zoological conceptions and apparently maintained with more
or less definiteness by influential writers; according to which, when
we attribute goodness or badness to the manner of existence of any
living organism, we should be understood to attribute to it a tendency
either (1) to self-preservation, or (2) to the preservation of the
community or race to which it belongs--so that what “Wellbeing” adds
to mere “Being” is just promise of future being. It appears to me that
this doctrine needs only to be distinctly contemplated in order to be
rejected. If all life were as little desirable as some portions of
it have been, in my own experience and in that (I believe) of all or
most men, I should judge all tendency to the preservation of it to be
unmitigatedly bad. Actually, no doubt, as we generally hold that human
life, even as now lived, has on the average, a balance of happiness,
we regard what is preservative of life as generally good, and what is
destructive of life as bad: and I quite admit that a most fundamentally
important part of the function of morality consists in maintaining such
habits and sentiments as are necessary to the continued existence,
in full numbers, of a society of human beings under their actual
conditions of life. But this is not because the mere existence of human
organisms, even if prolonged to eternity, appears to me in any way
desirable; it is only assumed to be so because it is supposed to be
accompanied by Consciousness on the whole desirable; it is therefore
this Desirable Consciousness which we must regard as ultimate Good.
In the same way, so far as we judge virtuous activity to be a part of
Ultimate Good, it is, I conceive, because the consciousness attending
it is judged to be in itself desirable for the virtuous agent; though
at the same time this consideration does not adequately represent the
importance of Virtue to human wellbeing, since we have to consider
its value as a means as well as its value as an end. We may make the
distinction clearer by considering whether Virtuous life would remain
on the whole good for the virtuous agent, if we suppose it combined
with extreme pain. The affirmative answer to this question was strongly
supported in Greek philosophical discussion: but it is a paradox from
which a modern thinker would recoil: he would hardly venture to assert
that the portion of life spent by a martyr in tortures was in itself
desirable,--though it might be his duty to suffer the pain with a view
to the good of others, and even his interest to suffer it with a view
to his own ultimate happiness.
§ 4. If then Ultimate Good can only be conceived as Desirable
Consciousness--including the Consciousness of Virtue as a part but only
as a part--are we to identify this notion with Happiness or Pleasure,
and say with the Utilitarians that General Good is general happiness?
Many would at this point of the discussion regard this conclusion as
inevitable: to say that all other things called good are only means to
the end of making conscious life better or more desirable, seems to
them the same as saying that they are means to the end of happiness.
But very important distinctions remain to be considered. According to
the view taken in a previous chapter,[303] in affirming Ultimate Good
to be Happiness or Pleasure, we imply (1) that nothing is desirable
except desirable feelings, and (2) that the desirability of each
feeling is only directly cognisable by the sentient individual at the
time of feeling it, and that therefore this particular judgment of the
sentient individual must be taken as final[304] on the question how far
each element of feeling has the quality of Ultimate Good. Now no one, I
conceive, would estimate in any other way the desirability of feeling
considered merely as feeling: but it may be urged that our conscious
experience includes besides Feelings, Cognitions and Volitions, and
that the desirability of these must be taken into account, and is not
to be estimated by the standard above stated. I think, however, that
when we reflect on a cognition as a transient fact of an individual’s
psychical experience,--distinguishing it on the one hand from the
feeling that normally accompanies it, and on the other hand from that
relation of the knowing mind to the object known which is implied
in the term “true” or “valid cognition”[305]--it is seen to be an
element of consciousness quite neutral in respect of desirability:
and the same may be said of Volitions, when we abstract from their
concomitant feelings, and their relation to an objective norm or ideal,
as well as from all their consequences. It is no doubt true that in
ordinary thought certain states of consciousness--such as Cognition
of Truth, Contemplation of Beauty, Volition to realise Freedom or
Virtue--are sometimes judged to be preferable on other grounds than
their pleasantness: but the general explanation of this seems to be
(as was suggested in Book ii. chap. ii. § 2) that what in such cases
we really prefer is not the present consciousness itself, but either
effects on future consciousness more or less distinctly foreseen, or
else something in the objective relations of the conscious being, not
strictly included in his present consciousness.
The second of these alternatives may perhaps be made clearer by some
illustrations. A man may prefer the mental state of apprehending truth
to the state of half-reliance on generally accredited fictions,[306]
while recognising that the former state may be more painful than
the latter, and independently of any effect which he expects either
state to have upon his subsequent consciousness. Here, on my view,
the real object of preference is not the consciousness of knowing
truth, considered merely as consciousness,--the element of pleasure
or satisfaction in this being more than outweighed by the concomitant
pain,--but the relation between the mind and something else, which, as
the very notion of ‘truth’ implies, is whatever it is independently of
our cognition of it, and which I therefore call objective. This may
become more clear if we imagine ourselves learning afterwards that
what we took for truth is not really such: for in this case we should
certainly feel that our preference had been mistaken; whereas if our
choice had really been between two elements of transient consciousness,
its reasonableness could not be affected by any subsequent discovery.
Similarly, a man may prefer freedom and penury to a life of luxurious
servitude, not because the pleasant consciousness of being free
outweighs in prospect all the comforts and securities that the
other life would afford, but because he has a predominant aversion
to that relation between his will and the will of another which we
call slavery: or, again, a philosopher may choose what he conceives
as ‘inner freedom’--the consistent self-determination of the
will--rather than the gratifications of appetite; though recognising
that the latter are more desirable, considered merely as transient
feelings. In either case, he will be led to regard his preference
as mistaken, if he be afterwards persuaded that his conception of
Freedom or self-determination was illusory; that we are all slaves of
circumstances, destiny, etc.
So again, the preference of conformity to Virtue, or contemplation
of Beauty, to a state of consciousness recognised as more pleasant
seems to depend on a belief that one’s conception of Virtue or Beauty
corresponds to an ideal to some extent objective and valid for all
minds. Apart from any consideration of future consequences, we should
generally agree that a man who sacrificed happiness to an erroneous
conception of Virtue or Beauty made a mistaken choice.
Still, it may be said that this is merely a question of definition:
that we may take ‘conscious life’ in a wide sense, so as to include
the objective relations of the conscious being implied in our notions
of Virtue, Truth, Beauty, Freedom; and that from this point of view
we may regard cognition of Truth, contemplation of Beauty, Free or
Virtuous action, as in some measure preferable alternatives to Pleasure
or Happiness--even though we admit that Happiness must be included
as a part of Ultimate Good. In this case the principle of Rational
Benevolence, which was stated in the last chapter as an indubitable
intuition of the practical Reason, would not direct us to the pursuit
of universal happiness alone, but of these “ideal goods” as well, as
ends ultimately desirable for mankind generally.
§ 5. I think, however, that this view ought not to commend itself to
the sober judgment of reflective persons. In order to show this, I
must ask the reader to use the same twofold procedure that I before
requested him to employ in considering the absolute and independent
validity of common moral precepts. I appeal firstly to his intuitive
judgment after due consideration of the question when fairly placed
before it: and secondly to a comprehensive comparison of the ordinary
judgments of mankind. As regards the first argument, to me at least
it seems clear after reflection that these objective relations of
the conscious subject, when distinguished from the consciousness
accompanying and resulting from them, are not ultimately and
intrinsically desirable; any more than material or other objects
are, when considered apart from any relation to conscious existence.
Admitting that we have actual experience of such preferences as have
just been described, of which the ultimate object is something that
is not merely consciousness: it still seems to me that when (to use
Butler’s phrase) we “sit down in a cool hour,” we can only justify to
ourselves the importance that we attach to any of these objects by
considering its conduciveness, in one way or another, to the happiness
of sentient beings.
The second argument, that refers to the common sense of mankind,
obviously cannot be made completely cogent; since, as above stated,
several cultivated persons do habitually judge that knowledge, art,
etc.--not to speak of Virtue--are ends independently of the pleasure
derived from them. But we may urge not only that all these elements
of “ideal good” are productive of pleasure in various ways; but also
that they seem to obtain the commendation of Common Sense, roughly
speaking, in proportion to the degree of this productiveness. This
seems obviously true of Beauty; and will hardly be denied in respect
of any kind of social ideal: it is paradoxical to maintain that any
degree of Freedom, or any form of social order, would still be commonly
regarded as desirable even if we were certain that it had no tendency
to promote the general happiness. The case of Knowledge is rather more
complex; but certainly Common Sense is most impressed with the value
of knowledge, when its ‘fruitfulness’ has been demonstrated. It is,
however, aware that experience has frequently shown how knowledge, long
fruitless, may become unexpectedly fruitful, and how light may be shed
on one part of the field of knowledge from another apparently remote:
and even if any particular branch of scientific pursuit could be shown
to be devoid of even this indirect utility, it would still deserve some
respect on utilitarian grounds; both as furnishing to the inquirer
the refined and innocent pleasures of curiosity, and because the
intellectual disposition which it exhibits and sustains is likely on
the whole to produce fruitful knowledge. Still in cases approximating
to this last, Common Sense is somewhat disposed to complain of the
misdirection of valuable effort; so that the meed of honour commonly
paid to Science seems to be graduated, though perhaps unconsciously,
by a tolerably exact utilitarian scale. Certainly the moment the
legitimacy of any branch of scientific inquiry is seriously disputed,
as in the recent case of vivisection, the controversy on both sides is
generally conducted on an avowedly utilitarian basis.
The case of Virtue requires special consideration: since the
encouragement in each other of virtuous impulses and dispositions is a
main aim of men’s ordinary moral discourse; so that even to raise the
question whether this encouragement can go too far has a paradoxical
air. Still, our experience includes rare and exceptional cases in which
the concentration of effort on the cultivation of virtue has seemed to
have effects adverse to general happiness, through being intensified
to the point of moral fanaticism, and so involving a neglect of other
conditions of happiness. If, then, we admit as actual or possible
such ‘infelicific’ effects of the cultivation of Virtue, I think we
shall also generally admit that, in the case supposed, conduciveness
to general happiness should be the criterion for deciding how far the
cultivation of Virtue should be carried.
At the same time it must be allowed that we find in Common Sense an
aversion to admit Happiness (when explained to mean a sum of pleasures)
to be the sole ultimate end and standard of right conduct. But this, I
think, can be fully accounted for by the following considerations.
I. The term Pleasure is not commonly used so as to include clearly
_all_ kinds of consciousness which we desire to retain or reproduce:
in ordinary usage it suggests too prominently the coarser and commoner
kinds of such feelings; and it is difficult even for those who are
trying to use it scientifically to free their minds altogether from the
associations of ordinary usage, and to mean by Pleasure only Desirable
Consciousness or Feeling of whatever kind. Again, our knowledge of
human life continually suggests to us instances of pleasures which will
inevitably involve as concomitant or consequent either a greater amount
of pain or a loss of more important pleasures: and we naturally shrink
from including even hypothetically in our conception of ultimate good
these--in Bentham’s phrase--“impure” pleasures; especially since we
have, in many cases, moral or æsthetic instincts warning us against
such pleasures.
II. We have seen[307] that many important pleasures can only be felt on
condition of our experiencing desires for other things than pleasure.
Thus the very acceptance of Pleasure as the ultimate end of conduct
involves the practical rule that it is not always to be made the
conscious end. Hence, even if we are considering merely the good of
one human being taken alone, excluding from our view all effects of
his conduct on others, still the reluctance of Common Sense to regard
pleasure as the sole thing ultimately desirable may be justified by
the consideration that human beings tend to be less happy if they are
exclusively occupied with the desire of personal happiness. _E.g._ (as
was before shown) we shall miss the valuable pleasures which attend the
exercise of the benevolent affections if we do not experience genuinely
disinterested impulses to procure happiness for others (which are, in
fact, implied in the notion of ‘benevolent affections’).
III. But again, I hold, as was expounded in the preceding chapter,
that disinterested benevolence is not only thus generally in harmony
with rational Self-love, but also in another sense and independently
rational: that is, Reason shows me that if my happiness is desirable
and a good, the equal happiness of any other person must be equally
desirable. Now, when Happiness is spoken of as the sole ultimate good
of man, the idea most commonly suggested is that each individual is to
seek his own happiness at the expense (if necessary) or, at any rate,
to the neglect of that of others: and this offends both our sympathetic
and our rational regard for others’ happiness. It is, in fact, rather
the end of Egoistic than of Universalistic Hedonism, to which Common
Sense feels an aversion. And certainly one’s individual happiness is,
in many respects, an unsatisfactory mark for one’s supreme aim, apart
from any direct collision into which the exclusive pursuit of it may
bring us with rational or sympathetic Benevolence. It does not possess
the characteristics which, as Aristotle says, we “divine” to belong
to Ultimate Good: being (so far, at least, as it can be empirically
foreseen) so narrow and limited, of such necessarily brief duration,
and so shifting and insecure while it lasts. But Universal Happiness,
desirable consciousness or feeling for the innumerable multitude of
sentient beings, present and to come, seems an End that satisfies
our imagination by its vastness, and sustains our resolution by its
comparative security.
It may, however, be said that if we require the individual to sacrifice
his own happiness to the greater happiness of others on the ground
that it is reasonable to do so, we really assign to the individual a
different ultimate end from that which we lay down as the ultimate
Good of the universe of sentient beings: since we direct him to take,
as ultimate, Happiness for the Universe, but Conformity to Reason
for himself. I admit the substantial truth of this statement, though
I should avoid the language as tending to obscure the distinction
before explained between “obeying the dictates” and “promoting the
dictation” of reason. But granting the alleged difference, I do not
see that it constitutes an argument against the view here maintained,
since the individual is essentially and fundamentally different from
the larger whole--the universe of sentient beings--of which he is
conscious of being a part; just because he has a known relation to
similar parts of the same whole, while the whole itself has no such
relation. I accordingly see no inconsistency in holding that while
it _would_ be reasonable for the aggregate of sentient beings, if it
could act collectively, to aim at its own happiness only as an ultimate
end--and would be reasonable for any individual to do the same, if he
were the only sentient being in the universe--it may yet be _actually_
reasonable for an individual to sacrifice his own Good or happiness for
the greater happiness of others.[308]
At the same time I admit that, in the earlier age of ethical thought
which Greek philosophy represents, men sometimes judged an act to be
‘good’ _for the agent_, even while recognising that its consequences
would be on the whole painful to him,--as (_e.g._) a heroic exchange
of a life full of happiness for a painful death at the call of duty.
I attribute this partly to a confusion of thought between what it
is reasonable for an individual to desire, when he considers his
own existence alone, and what he must recognise as reasonably to be
desired, when he takes the point of view of a larger whole: partly,
again, to a faith deeply rooted in the moral consciousness of mankind,
that there cannot be really and ultimately any conflict between the
two kinds of reasonableness.[309] But when ‘Reasonable Self-love’ has
been clearly distinguished from Conscience, as it is by Butler and
his followers, we find it is naturally understood to mean desire for
one’s own Happiness: so that in fact the interpretation of ‘one’s own
good,’ which was almost peculiar in ancient thought to the Cyrenaic
and Epicurean heresies, is adopted by some of the most orthodox of
modern moralists. Indeed it often does not seem to have occurred to
these latter that this notion can have any other interpretation.[310]
If, then, when any one hypothetically concentrates his attention on
himself, Good is naturally and almost inevitably conceived to be
Pleasure, we may reasonably conclude that the Good of any number of
similar beings, whatever their mutual relations may be, cannot be
essentially different in quality.
IV. But lastly, from the universal point of view no less than from
that of the individual, it seems true that Happiness is likely to be
better attained if the extent to which we set ourselves consciously to
aim at it be carefully restricted. And this not only because action is
likely to be more effective if our effort is temporarily concentrated
on the realisation of more limited ends--though this is no doubt an
important reason:--but also because the fullest development of happy
life for each individual seems to require that he should have other
external objects of interest besides the happiness of other conscious
beings. And thus we may conclude that the pursuit of the ideal objects
before mentioned, Virtue, Truth, Freedom, Beauty, etc., _for their
own sakes_, is indirectly and secondarily, though not primarily and
absolutely, rational; on account not only of the happiness that will
result from their attainment, but also of that which springs from their
disinterested pursuit. While yet if we ask for a final criterion of
the comparative value of the different objects of men’s enthusiastic
pursuit, and of the limits within which each may legitimately engross
the attention of mankind, we shall none the less conceive it to depend
upon the degree in which they respectively conduce to Happiness.
If, however, this view be rejected, it remains to consider whether we
can frame any other coherent account of Ultimate Good. If we are not
to systematise human activities by taking Universal Happiness as their
common end, on what other principles are we to systematise them? It
should be observed that these principles must not only enable us to
compare among themselves the values of the different non-hedonistic
ends which we have been considering, but must also provide a common
standard for comparing these values with that of Happiness; unless we
are prepared to adopt the paradoxical position of rejecting happiness
as absolutely valueless. For we have a practical need of determining
not only whether we should pursue Truth rather than Beauty, or
Freedom or some ideal constitution of society rather than either, or
perhaps desert all of these for the life of worship and religious
contemplation; but also how far we should follow any of these lines of
endeavour, when we foresee among its consequences the pains of human
or other sentient beings, or even the loss of pleasures that might
otherwise have been enjoyed by them.[311]
I have failed to find--and am unable to construct--any systematic
answer to this question that appears to me deserving of serious
consideration: and hence I am finally led to the conclusion (which
at the close of the last chapter seemed to be premature) that the
Intuitional method rigorously applied yields as its final result the
doctrine of pure Universalistic Hedonism,[312]--which it is convenient
to denote by the single word, Utilitarianism.
FOOTNOTES:
[300] See Book i. chap. i. § 2.
[301] Cf. Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, chap. iv. § 16.
[302] Chap. xi. § 3; see also chap. xii. § 3.
[303] Book ii. chap. ii.
[304] Final, that is, so far as the quality of the present feeling
is concerned. I have pointed out that so far as any estimate of the
desirability or pleasantness of a feeling involves comparison with
feelings only represented in idea, it is liable to be erroneous through
imperfections in the representation.
[305] The term “cognition” without qualification more often implies
what is signified by “true” or “valid”: but for the present purpose it
is necessary to eliminate this implication.
[306] Cf. Lecky, _History of European Morals_, pp. 52 _seqq._
[307] Book i. chap. iv.; cf. Book ii. chap. iii.
[308] I ought at the same time to say that I hold it no less reasonable
for an individual to take his own happiness as his ultimate end. This
“Dualism of the Practical Reason” will be further discussed in the
concluding chapter of the treatise.
[309] We may illustrate this double explanation by a reference to some
of Plato’s Dialogues, such as the _Gorgias_, where the ethical argument
has a singularly mixed effect on the mind. Partly, it seems to us more
or less dexterous sophistry, playing on a confusion of thought latent
in the common notion of good: partly a noble and stirring expression of
a profound moral faith.
[310] Cf. Stewart, _Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers_, Book
ii. chap. i.
[311] The controversy on vivisection, to which I referred just now,
affords a good illustration of the need that I am pointing out. I
do not observe that any one in this controversy has ventured on the
paradox that the pain of sentient beings is not _per se_ to be avoided.
[312] I have before noticed (Book ii. chap. iii. p. 134) the
metaphysical objection taken by certain writers to the view that
Happiness is Ultimate Good; on the ground that Happiness (= sum
of pleasures) can only be realised in successive parts, whereas a
“Chief Good” must be “something of which some being can be conceived
in possession”--something, that is, which he can have all at once.
On considering this objection it seemed to me that, in so far as
it is even plausible, its plausibility depends on the exact form
of the notion ‘a Chief Good’ (or ‘Summum Bonum’), which is perhaps
inappropriate as applied to Happiness. I have therefore in this chapter
used the notion of ‘Ultimate Good’: as I can see no shadow of reason
for affirming that that which is Good or Desirable _per se_, and not
as a means to some further end, must _necessarily_ be capable of being
possessed all at once. I can understand that a man may aspire after a
Good of this latter kind: but so long as Time is a necessary form of
human existence, it can hardly be surprising that human good should be
subject to the condition of being realised in successive parts.
BOOK IV
UTILITARIANISM
CHAPTER I
THE MEANING OF UTILITARIANISM
§ 1. The term Utilitarianism is, at the present day, in common use,
and is supposed to designate a doctrine or method with which we are
all familiar. But on closer examination, it appears to be applied to
several distinct theories, having no necessary connexion with one
another, and not even referring to the same subject-matter. It will
be well, therefore, to define, as carefully as possible, the doctrine
that is to be denoted by the term in the present Book: at the same time
distinguishing this from other doctrines to which usage would allow
the name to be applied, and indicating, so far as seems necessary, its
relation to these.
By Utilitarianism is here meant the ethical theory, that the conduct
which, under any given circumstances, is objectively right, is that
which will produce the greatest amount of happiness on the whole; that
is, taking into account all whose happiness is affected by the conduct.
It would tend to clearness if we might call this principle, and the
method based upon it, by some such name as “Universalistic Hedonism”:
and I have therefore sometimes ventured to use this term, in spite of
its cumbrousness.
The first doctrine from which it seems necessary to distinguish this,
is the Egoistic Hedonism expounded and discussed in Book ii. of this
treatise. The difference, however, between the propositions (1) that
each ought to seek his own happiness, and (2) that each ought to seek
the happiness of all, is so obvious and glaring, that instead of
dwelling upon it we seem rather called upon to explain how the two
ever came to be confounded, or in any way included under one notion.
This question and the general relation between the two doctrines were
briefly discussed in a former chapter.[313] Among other points it was
there noticed that the confusion between these two ethical theories was
partly assisted by the confusion with both of the psychological theory
that in voluntary actions every agent does, universally or normally,
seek his own individual happiness or pleasure. Now there seems to be no
_necessary_ connexion between this latter proposition and any ethical
theory: but in so far as there is a natural tendency to pass from
psychological to ethical Hedonism, the transition must be--at least
primarily--to the Egoistic phase of the latter. For clearly, from the
fact that every one actually does seek his own happiness we cannot
conclude, as an immediate and obvious inference, that he ought to seek
the happiness of other people.[314]
Nor, again, is Utilitarianism, as an ethical doctrine, necessarily
connected with the psychological theory that the moral sentiments are
derived, by “association of ideas” or otherwise, from experiences of
the non-moral pleasures and pains resulting to the agent or to others
from different kinds of conduct. An Intuitionist might accept this
theory, so far as it is capable of scientific proof, and still hold
that these moral sentiments, being found in our present consciousness
as independent impulses, ought to possess the authority that they
seem to claim over the more primary desires and aversions from which
they have sprung: and an Egoist on the other hand might fully admit
the altruistic element of the derivation, and still hold that these
and all other impulses (including even Universal Benevolence) are
properly under the rule of Rational Self-love: and that it is really
only reasonable to gratify them in so far as we may expect to find our
private happiness in such gratification. In short, what is often called
the “utilitarian” theory of the origin of the moral sentiments cannot
by itself provide a proof of the ethical doctrine to which I in this
treatise restrict the term Utilitarianism. I shall, however, hereafter
try to show that this psychological theory has an important though
subordinate place in the establishment of Ethical Utilitarianism.[315]
Finally, the doctrine that Universal Happiness is the ultimate
_standard_ must not be understood to imply that Universal Benevolence
is the only right or always best _motive_ of action. For, as we have
before observed, it is not necessary that the end which gives the
criterion of rightness should always be the end at which we consciously
aim: and if experience shows that the general happiness will be more
satisfactorily attained if men frequently act from other motives than
pure universal philanthropy, it is obvious that these other motives are
reasonably to be preferred on Utilitarian principles.
§ 2. Let us now examine the principle itself somewhat closer. I
have already attempted (Book ii. chap. i.) to render the notion of
Greatest Happiness as clear and definite as possible; and the results
there obtained are of course as applicable to the discussion of
Universalistic as to that of Egoistic Hedonism. We shall understand,
then, that by Greatest Happiness is meant the greatest possible surplus
of pleasure over pain, the pain being conceived as balanced against an
equal amount of pleasure, so that the two contrasted amounts annihilate
each other for purposes of ethical calculation. And of course, here
as before, the assumption is involved that all pleasures included in
our calculation are capable of being compared quantitatively with one
another and with all pains; that every such feeling has a certain
intensive quantity, positive or negative (or, perhaps, zero), in
respect of its desirableness, and that this quantity may be to some
extent known: so that each may be at least roughly weighed in ideal
scales against any other. This assumption is involved in the very
notion of Maximum Happiness; as the attempt to make ‘as great as
possible’ a sum of elements not quantitatively commensurable would be a
mathematical absurdity. Therefore whatever weight is to be attached to
the objections brought against this assumption (which was discussed in
chap. iii. of Book ii.) must of course tell against the present method.
We have next to consider who the “all” are, whose happiness is to be
taken into account. Are we to extend our concern to all the beings
capable of pleasure and pain whose feelings are affected by our
conduct? or are we to confine our view to human happiness? The former
view is the one adopted by Bentham and Mill, and (I believe) by the
Utilitarian school generally: and is obviously most in accordance with
the universality that is characteristic of their principle. It is the
Good _Universal_, interpreted and defined as ‘happiness’ or ‘pleasure,’
at which a Utilitarian considers it his duty to aim: and it seems
arbitrary and unreasonable to exclude from the end, as so conceived,
any pleasure of any sentient being.
It may be said that by giving this extension to the notion, we
considerably increase the scientific difficulties of the hedonistic
comparison, which have already been pointed out (Book ii. chap. iii.):
for if it be difficult to compare the pleasures and pains of other men
accurately with our own, a comparison of either with the pleasures and
pains of brutes is obviously still more obscure. Still, the difficulty
is at least not greater for Utilitarians than it is for any other
moralists who recoil from the paradox of disregarding altogether the
pleasures and pains of brutes. But even if we limit our attention to
human beings, the extent of the subjects of happiness is not yet quite
determinate. In the first place, it may be asked, How far we are to
consider the interests of posterity when they seem to conflict with
those of existing human beings? It seems, however, clear that the
time at which a man exists cannot affect the value of his happiness
from a universal point of view; and that the interests of posterity
must concern a Utilitarian as much as those of his contemporaries,
except in so far as the effect of his actions on posterity--and
even the existence of human beings to be affected--must necessarily
be more uncertain. But a further question arises when we consider
that we can to some extent influence the number of future human (or
sentient) beings. We have to ask how, on Utilitarian principles, this
influence is to be exercised. Here I shall assume that, for human
beings generally, life on the average yields a positive balance of
pleasure over pain. This has been denied by thoughtful persons: but
the denial seems to me clearly opposed to the common experience
of mankind, as expressed in their commonly accepted principles of
action. The great majority of men, in the great majority of conditions
under which human life is lived, certainly act as if death were one
of the worst of evils, for themselves and for those whom they love:
and the administration of criminal justice proceeds on a similar
assumption.[316]
Assuming, then, that the average happiness of human beings is a
positive quantity, it seems clear that, supposing the average happiness
enjoyed remains undiminished, Utilitarianism directs us to make the
number enjoying it as great as possible. But if we foresee as possible
that an increase in numbers will be accompanied by a decrease in
average happiness or _vice versa_, a point arises which has not only
never been formally noticed, but which seems to have been substantially
overlooked by many Utilitarians. For if we take Utilitarianism to
prescribe, as the ultimate end of action, happiness on the whole, and
not any individual’s happiness, unless considered as an element of the
whole, it would follow that, if the additional population enjoy on the
whole positive happiness, we ought to weigh the amount of happiness
gained by the extra number against the amount lost by the remainder.
So that, strictly conceived, the point up to which, on Utilitarian
principles, population ought to be encouraged to increase, is not that
at which average happiness is the greatest possible,--as appears to be
often assumed by political economists of the school of Malthus--but
that at which the product formed by multiplying the number of persons
living into the amount of average happiness reaches its maximum.
It may be well here to make a remark which has a wide application in
Utilitarian discussion. The conclusion just given wears a certain air
of absurdity to the view of Common Sense; because its show of exactness
is grotesquely incongruous with our consciousness of the inevitable
inexactness of all such calculations in actual practice. But, that
our practical Utilitarian reasonings must necessarily be rough, is
no reason for not making them as accurate as the case admits; and we
shall be more likely to succeed in this if we keep before our mind
as distinctly as possible the strict type of the calculation that
we should have to make, if all the relevant considerations could be
estimated with mathematical precision.
There is one more point that remains to be noticed. It is evident that
there may be many different ways of distributing the same quantum
of happiness among the same number of persons; in order, therefore,
that the Utilitarian criterion of right conduct may be as complete as
possible, we ought to know which of these ways is to be preferred.
This question is often ignored in expositions of Utilitarianism. It
has perhaps seemed somewhat idle, as suggesting a purely abstract and
theoretical perplexity, that could have no practical exemplification;
and no doubt, if all the consequences of actions were capable of
being estimated and summed up with mathematical precision, we should
probably never find the excess of pleasure over pain exactly equal
in the case of two competing alternatives of conduct. But the very
indefiniteness of all hedonistic calculations, which was sufficiently
shown in Book ii., renders it by no means unlikely that there may be no
_cognisable_ difference between the quantities of happiness involved
in two sets of consequences respectively; the more rough our estimates
necessarily are, the less likely we shall be to come to any clear
decision between two apparently balanced alternatives. In all such
cases, therefore, it becomes practically important to ask whether any
mode of distributing a given quantum of happiness is better than any
other. Now the Utilitarian formula seems to supply no answer to this
question: at least we have to supplement the principle of seeking the
greatest happiness on the whole by some principle of Just or Right
distribution of this happiness. The principle which most Utilitarians
have either tacitly or expressly adopted is that of pure equality--as
given in Bentham’s formula, “everybody to count for one, and nobody for
more than one.” And this principle seems the only one which does not
need a special justification; for, as we saw, it must be reasonable to
treat any one man in the same way as any other, if there be no reason
apparent for treating him differently.[317]
FOOTNOTES:
[313] Book i. chap. vi. It may be worth while to notice, that in Mill’s
well-known treatise on Utilitarianism this confusion, though expressly
deprecated, is to some extent encouraged by the author’s treatment of
the subject.
[314] I have already criticised (Book iii. chap. xiii.) the mode in
which Mill attempts to exhibit this inference.
[315] Cf. _post_, chap. iv.
[316] Those who held the opposite opinion appear generally to assume
that the appetites and desires which are the mainspring of ordinary
human action are in themselves painful: a view entirely contrary
to my own experience, and, I believe, to the common experience of
mankind. See chap. iv. § 2 of Book i. So far as their argument is not
a development of this psychological error, any plausibility it has
seems to me to be obtained by dwelling onesidedly on the annoyances
and disappointments undoubtedly incident to normal human life, and on
the exceptional sufferings of small minorities of the human race, or
perhaps of most men during small portions of their lives.
The reader who wishes to see the paradoxical results of pessimistic
utilitarianism seriously worked out by a thoughtful and suggestive
writer, may refer to Professor Macmillan’s book on the _Promotion
of General Happiness_ (Swan Sonnenschein and Co. 1890). The author
considers that “the philosophical world is pretty equally divided
between optimists and pessimists,” and his own judgment on the question
at issue between the two schools appears to be held in suspense.
[317] It should be observed that the question here is as to the
distribution of _Happiness_, not the _means of happiness_. If more
happiness on the whole is produced by giving the same means of
happiness to B rather than to A, it is an obvious and incontrovertible
deduction from the Utilitarian principle that it ought to be given to
B, whatever inequality in the distribution of the _means_ of happiness
this may involve.
CHAPTER II
THE PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM
In Book ii., where we discussed the method of Egoistic Hedonism, we did
not take occasion to examine any proof of its first principle: and in
the case of Universalistic Hedonism also, what primarily concerns us is
not how its principle is to be proved to those who do not accept it,
but what consequences are logically involved in its acceptance. At the
same time it is important to observe that the principle of aiming at
universal happiness is more generally felt to require some proof, or
at least (as Mill puts it) some “considerations determining the mind
to accept it,” than the principle of aiming at one’s own happiness.
From the point of view, indeed, of abstract philosophy, I do not see
why the Egoistic principle should pass unchallenged any more than the
Universalistic. I do not see why the axiom of Prudence should not be
questioned, when it conflicts with present inclination, on a ground
similar to that on which Egoists refuse to admit the axiom of Rational
Benevolence. If the Utilitarian has to answer the question, ‘Why should
I sacrifice my own happiness for the greater happiness of another?’ it
must surely be admissible to ask the Egoist, ‘Why should I sacrifice a
present pleasure for a greater one in the future? Why should I concern
myself about my own future feelings any more than about the feelings
of other persons?’ It undoubtedly seems to Common Sense paradoxical to
ask for a reason why one should seek one’s own happiness on the whole;
but I do not see how the demand can be repudiated as absurd by those
who adopt the views of the extreme empirical school of psychologists,
although those views are commonly supposed to have a close affinity
with Egoistic Hedonism. Grant that the Ego is merely a system of
coherent phenomena, that the permanent identical ‘I’ is not a fact
but a fiction, as Hume and his followers maintain; why, then, should
one part of the series of feelings into which the Ego is resolved be
concerned with another part of the same series, any more than with any
other series?
However, I will not press this question now; since I admit that
Common Sense does not think it worth while to supply the individual
with reasons for seeking his own interest.[318] Reasons for doing his
duty--according to the commonly accepted standard of duty--are not held
to be equally superfluous: indeed we find that utilitarian reasons
are continually given for one or other of the commonly received rules
of morality. Still the fact that certain rules are commonly received
as binding, though it does not establish their self-evidence, renders
it generally unnecessary to prove their authority to the Common Sense
that receives them: while for the same reason a Utilitarian who claims
to supersede them by a higher principle is naturally challenged, by
Intuitionists no less than by Egoists, to demonstrate the legitimacy
of his claim. To this challenge some Utilitarians would reply by
saying that it is impossible to “prove” a first principle; and this
is of course true, if by proof we mean a process which exhibits the
principle in question as an inference from premises upon which it
remains dependent for its certainty; for these premises, and not the
inference drawn from them, would then be the real first principles.
Nay, if Utilitarianism is to be _proved_ to a man who already holds
some other moral principles,--whether he be an Intuitional moralist,
who regards as final the principles of Truth, Justice, Obedience to
authority, Purity, etc., or an Egoist who regards his own interest as
the ultimately reasonable end of his conduct,--it would seem that the
process must be one which establishes a conclusion actually _superior_
in validity to the premises from which it starts. For the Utilitarian
prescriptions of duty are _prima facie_ in conflict, at certain points
and under certain circumstances, both with rules which the Intuitionist
regards as self-evident, and with the dictates of Rational Egoism; so
that Utilitarianism, if accepted at all, must be accepted as overruling
Intuitionism and Egoism. At the same time, if the other principles
are not throughout taken as valid, the so-called proof does not seem
to be addressed to the Intuitionist or Egoist at all. How shall we
deal with this dilemma? How is such a process--clearly different from
ordinary proof--possible or conceivable? Yet there certainly seems to
be a general demand for it. Perhaps we may say that what is needed is
a line of argument which on the one hand allows the validity, to a
certain extent, of the maxims already accepted, and on the other hand
shows them to be not absolutely valid, but needing to be controlled and
completed by some more comprehensive principle.
Such a line of argument, addressed to Egoism, was given in chap. xiii.
of the foregoing book. It should be observed that the applicability
of this argument depends on the manner in which the Egoistic first
principle is formulated. If the Egoist strictly confines himself
to stating his conviction that he ought to take his own happiness
or pleasure as his ultimate end, there seems no opening for any
line of reasoning to lead him to Universalistic Hedonism as a first
principle;[319] it cannot be proved that the difference between his
own happiness and another’s happiness is not _for him_ all-important.
In this case all that the Utilitarian can do is to effect as far as
possible a reconciliation between the two principles, by expounding to
the Egoist the _sanctions_ of rules deduced from the Universalistic
principle,--_i.e._ by pointing out the pleasures and pains that may
be expected to accrue to the Egoist himself from the observation and
violation respectively of such rules. It is obvious that such an
exposition has no tendency to make him accept the greatest happiness of
the greatest number as his ultimate end; but only as a means to the end
of his own happiness. It is therefore totally different from a _proof_
(as above explained) of Universalistic Hedonism. When, however, the
Egoist puts forward, implicitly or explicitly, the proposition that his
happiness or pleasure is Good, not only _for him_ but from the point
of view of the Universe,--as (_e.g._) by saying that ‘nature designed
him to seek his own happiness,’--it then becomes relevant to point out
to him that _his_ happiness cannot be a more important part of Good,
taken universally, than the equal happiness of any other person. And
thus, starting with his own principle, he may be brought to accept
Universal happiness or pleasure as that which is absolutely and without
qualification Good or Desirable: as an end, therefore, to which the
action of a reasonable agent as such ought to be directed.
This, it will be remembered, is the reasoning[320] that I used in chap.
xiii. of the preceding book in exhibiting the principle of Rational
Benevolence as one of the few Intuitions which stand the test of
rigorous criticism. It should be observed, however, that as addressed
to the Intuitionist, this reasoning only shows the Utilitarian first
principle to be _one_ moral axiom: it does not prove that it is
_sole_ or _supreme_. The premises with which the Intuitionist starts
commonly include other formulæ held as independent and self-evident.
Utilitarianism has therefore to exhibit itself in the twofold relation
above described, at once negative and positive, to these formulæ.
The Utilitarian must, in the first place, endeavour to show to the
Intuitionist that the principles of Truth, Justice,[2] etc. have only a
dependent and subordinate validity: arguing either that the principle
is really only affirmed by Common Sense as a general rule admitting
of exceptions and qualifications, as in the case of Truth, and that
we require some further principle for systematising these exceptions
and qualifications; or that the fundamental notion is vague and needs
further determination, as in the case of Justice;[321] and further,
that the different rules are liable to conflict with each other, and
that we require some higher principle to decide the issue thus raised;
and again, that the rules are differently formulated by different
persons, and that these differences admit of no Intuitional solution,
while they show the vagueness and ambiguity of the common moral
notions to which the Intuitionist appeals.
This part of the argument I have perhaps sufficiently developed in the
preceding book. It remains to supplement this line of reasoning by
developing the positive relation that exists between Utilitarianism
and the Morality of Common Sense: by showing how Utilitarianism
sustains the general validity of the current moral judgments, and
thus supplements the defects which reflection finds in the intuitive
recognition of their stringency; and at the same time affords a
principle of synthesis, and a method for binding the unconnected and
occasionally conflicting principles of common moral reasoning into
a complete and harmonious system. If systematic reflection upon the
morality of Common Sense thus exhibits the Utilitarian principle
as that to which Common Sense naturally appeals for that further
development of its system which this same reflection shows to be
necessary, the proof of Utilitarianism seems as complete as it can
be made. And since, further--apart from the question of proof--it is
important in considering the method of Utilitarianism to determine
exactly its relation to the commonly received rules of morality, it
will be proper to examine this relation at some length in the following
chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[318] The relation of Egoistic to Universalistic Hedonism is further
examined in the concluding chapter.
[319] It is to be observed that he may be led to it in other ways than
that of argument: _i.e._ by appeals to his sympathies, or to his moral
or quasi-moral sentiments.
[320] I ought to remind the reader that the argument in chap. xiii.
only leads to the first principle of Utilitarianism, if it be admitted
that Happiness is the only thing ultimately and intrinsically Good or
Desirable. I afterwards in chap. xiv. endeavoured to bring Common Sense
to this admission.
[321] That is, so far as we mean by Justice anything more than the
simple negation of arbitrary inequality.
CHAPTER III
RELATION OF UTILITARIANISM TO THE MORALITY OF COMMON SENSE
§ 1. It has been before observed (Book i. chap. vi.) that the two
sides of the double relation in which Utilitarianism stands to the
Morality of Common Sense have been respectively prominent at two
different periods in the history of English ethical thought. Since
Bentham we have been chiefly familiar with the negative or aggressive
aspect of the Utilitarian doctrine. But when Cumberland, replying to
Hobbes, put forward the general tendency of the received moral rules
to promote the “common Good[322] of all Rationals” his aim was simply
Conservative: it never occurs to him to consider whether these rules as
commonly formulated are in any way imperfect, and whether there are any
discrepancies between such common moral opinions and the conclusions
of Rational Benevolence. So in Shaftesbury’s system the “Moral” or
“Reflex Sense” is supposed to be always pleased with that “balance”
of the affections which tends to the good or happiness of the whole,
and displeased with the opposite. In Hume’s treatise this coincidence
is drawn out more in detail, and with a more definite assertion that
the perception of utility[323] (or the reverse) is in each case the
source of the moral likings (or aversions) which are excited in us
by different qualities of human character and conduct. And we may
observe that the most penetrating among Hume’s contemporary critics,
Adam Smith, admits unreservedly the objective coincidence of Rightness
or Approvedness and Utility: though he maintains, in opposition to
Hume, that “it is not the view of this utility or hurtfulness, which
is either the first or the principal source of our approbation or
disapprobation.” After stating Hume’s theory that “no qualities of
the mind are approved of as virtuous, but such as are useful or
agreeable either to the person himself or to others, and no qualities
are disapproved of as vicious but such as have a contrary tendency”;
he remarks that “Nature seems indeed to have so happily adjusted our
sentiments of approbation and disapprobation to the conveniency both of
the individual and of the society, that after the strictest examination
it will be found, I believe, that this is universally the case.”
And no one can read Hume’s _Inquiry into the First Principles of
Morals_ without being convinced of this at least, that if a list were
drawn up of the qualities of character and conduct that are directly or
indirectly productive of pleasure to ourselves or to others, it would
include all that are commonly known as virtues. Whatever be the origin
of our notion of moral goodness or excellence, there is no doubt that
“Utility” is a general characteristic of the dispositions to which we
apply it: and that, so far, the Morality of Common Sense may be truly
represented as at least unconsciously Utilitarian. But it may still be
objected, that this coincidence is merely general and qualitative, and
that it breaks down when we attempt to draw it out in detail, with the
quantitative precision which Bentham introduced into the discussion.
And no doubt there is a great difference between the assertion that
virtue is always productive of happiness, and the assertion that the
right action is under all circumstances that which will produce the
greatest possible happiness on the whole. But it must be borne in mind
that Utilitarianism is not concerned to prove the absolute coincidence
in results of the Intuitional and Utilitarian methods. Indeed, if it
could succeed in proving as much as this, its success would be almost
fatal to its practical claims; as the adoption of the Utilitarian
principle would then become a matter of complete indifference.
Utilitarians are rather called upon to show a natural transition from
the Morality of Common Sense to Utilitarianism, somewhat like the
transition in special branches of practice from trained instinct and
empirical rules to the technical method that embodies and applies the
conclusions of science: so that Utilitarianism may be presented as the
scientifically complete and systematically reflective form of that
regulation of conduct, which through the whole course of human history
has always tended substantially in the same direction. For this purpose
it is not necessary to prove that existing moral rules are _more_
conducive to the general happiness than any others: but only to point
out in each case some manifest felicific tendency which they possess.
Hume’s dissertation, however, incidentally exhibits much more than a
simple and general harmony between the moral sentiments with which we
commonly regard actions and their foreseen pleasurable and painful
consequences. And, in fact, the Utilitarian argument cannot be fairly
judged unless we take fully into account the cumulative force which
it derives from the complex character of the coincidence between
Utilitarianism and Common Sense.
It may be shown, I think, that the Utilitarian estimate of consequences
not only supports broadly the current moral rules, but also sustains
their generally received limitations and qualifications: that,
again, it explains anomalies in the Morality of Common Sense,
which from any other point of view must seem unsatisfactory to the
reflective intellect; and moreover, where the current formula is not
sufficiently precise for the guidance of conduct, while at the same
time difficulties and perplexities arise in the attempt to give it
additional precision, the Utilitarian method solves these difficulties
and perplexities in general accordance with the vague instincts of
Common Sense, and is naturally appealed to for such solution in
ordinary moral discussions. It may be shown further, that it not only
supports the generally received view of the relative importance of
different duties, but is also naturally called in as arbiter, where
rules commonly regarded as co-ordinate come into conflict: that, again,
when the same rule is interpreted somewhat differently by different
persons, each naturally supports his view by urging its Utility,
however strongly he may maintain the rule to be self-evident and
known _a priori_: that where we meet with marked diversity of moral
opinion on any point, in the same age and country, we commonly find
manifest and impressive utilitarian reasons on both sides: and that
finally the remarkable discrepancies found in comparing the moral
codes of different ages and countries are for the most part strikingly
correlated to differences in the effects of actions on happiness, or in
men’s foresight of, or concern for, such effects. Most of these points
are noticed by Hume, though in a somewhat casual and fragmentary way:
and many of them have been incidentally illustrated in the course of
the examination of Common Sense Morality, with which we were occupied
in the preceding Book. But considering the importance of the present
question, it may be well to exhibit in systematic detail the cumulative
argument which has just been summed up, even at the risk of repeating
to some extent the results previously given.
§ 2. We may begin by replying to an objection which is frequently
urged against Utilitarianism. How, it is asked, if the true ground
of the moral goodness or badness of actions lies in their utility or
the reverse, can we explain the broad distinction drawn by Common
Sense between the moral and other parts of our nature? Why is the
excellence of Virtue so strongly felt to be different in kind, not
merely from the excellence of a machine, or a fertile field, but also
from the physical beauties and aptitudes, the intellectual gifts and
talents of human beings. I should answer that--as was argued in an
earlier chapter (Book iii. chap. ii.)--qualities that are, in the
strictest sense of the term, Virtuous, are always such as we conceive
capable of being immediately realised by voluntary effort, at least
to some extent; so that the prominent obstacle to virtuous action is
absence of adequate motive. Hence we expect that the judgments of
moral goodness or badness, passed either by the agent himself or by
others, will--by the fresh motive which they supply on the side of
virtue--have an immediate practical effect in causing actions to be at
least externally virtuous: and the habitual consciousness of this will
account for almost any degree of difference between moral sentiments
and the pleasure and pain that we derive from the contemplation of
either extra-human or non-voluntary utilities and inutilities. To this,
however, it is replied, that among the tendencies to strictly voluntary
actions there are many not commonly regarded as virtuous, which are
yet not only useful but on the whole _more_ useful than many virtues.
“The selfish instinct that leads men to accumulate confers ultimately
more advantage on the world than the generous instinct that leads men
to give.... It is scarcely doubtful that a modest, diffident, and
retiring nature, distrustful of its own abilities, and shrinking with
humility from conflict, produces on the whole less benefit to the world
than the self-assertion of an audacious and arrogant nature, which is
impelled to every struggle, and develops every capacity. Gratitude has
no doubt done much to soften and sweeten the intercourse of life, but
the corresponding feeling of revenge was for centuries the one bulwark
against social anarchy, and is even now one of the chief restraints to
crime. On the great theatre of public life, especially in periods of
great convulsions where passions are fiercely roused, it is neither
the man of delicate scrupulosity and sincere impartiality, nor yet
the single-minded religious enthusiast, incapable of dissimulation or
procrastination, who confers most benefit on the world. It is much
rather the astute statesman, earnest about his ends, but unscrupulous
about his means, equally free from the trammels of conscience and
from the blindness of zeal, who governs because he partly yields to
the passions and the prejudices of his time. But ... it has scarcely
yet been contended that the delicate conscience which in these cases
impairs utility constitutes vice.”[324]
These objections are forcibly urged; but they appear to me not very
difficult to answer, it being always borne in mind that the present
argument does not aim at proving an exact coincidence between
Utilitarian inferences and the intuitions of Common Sense, but
rather seeks to represent the latter as inchoately and imperfectly
Utilitarian.
In the first place, we must carefully distinguish between the
recognition of goodness in dispositions, and the recognition of
rightness in conduct. An act that a Utilitarian must condemn as likely
to do more harm than good may yet show a disposition or tendency that
will on the whole produce more good than harm. This is eminently the
case with scrupulously conscientious acts. However true it may be
that unenlightened conscientiousness has impelled men to fanatical
cruelty, mistaken asceticism, and other infelicific conduct, I suppose
no Intuitionist would maintain that carefulness in conforming to
accepted moral rules has not, on the whole, a tendency to promote
happiness. It may be observed, however, that when we perceive the
effects of a disposition generally felicific to be in any particular
case adverse to happiness, we often apply to it, as so operating, some
term of condemnation: thus we speak, in the case above noticed, of
‘over-scrupulousness’ or ‘fanaticism.’ But in so far as we perceive
that the same disposition would generally produce good results,
it is not inconsistent still to regard it, abstracting from the
particular case, as a good element of character. Secondly, although,
in the view of a Utilitarian, only the useful is praiseworthy, he
is not bound to maintain that it is necessarily worthy of praise in
proportion as it is useful. From a Utilitarian point of view, as has
been before said, we must mean by calling a quality ‘deserving of
praise,’ that it is expedient to praise it, with a view to its future
production: accordingly, in distributing our praise of human qualities,
on utilitarian principles, we have to consider primarily not the
usefulness of the quality, but the usefulness of the praise: and it
is obviously not expedient to encourage by praise qualities which are
likely to be found in excess rather than in defect. Hence (_e.g._)
however necessary self-love or resentment may be to society, it is
quite in harmony with Utilitarianism that they should not be recognised
as virtues by Common Sense, in so far as it is reasonably thought that
they will always be found operating with at least sufficient intensity.
We find, however, that when self-love comes into conflict with impulses
seen to be on the whole pernicious, it is praised as Prudence: and
that when a man seems clearly deficient in resentment, he is censured
for tameness: though as malevolent impulses are much more obviously
productive of pain than pleasure, it is not unnatural that their
occasional utility should be somewhat overlooked. The case of Humility
and Diffidence may be treated in a somewhat similar way. As we saw[325]
it is only inadvertently that Common Sense praises the tendency to
underrate one’s own powers: on reflection it is generally admitted
that it cannot be good to be in error on this or any other point. But
the desires of Superiority and Esteem are so strong in most men, that
arrogance and self-assertion are both much commoner than the opposite
defects, and at the same time are faults peculiarly disagreeable to
others: so that humility gives us an agreeable surprise, and hence
Common Sense is easily led to overlook the more latent and remote bad
consequences of undue self-distrust.
We may observe further that the perplexity which we seemed to find in
the Morality of Common Sense, as to the relation of moral excellence
to moral effort, is satisfactorily explained and removed when we
adopt a Utilitarian point of view: for on the one hand it is easy to
see how certain acts--such as kind services--are likely to be more
felicific when performed without effort, and from other motives than
regard for duty: while on the other hand a person who in doing similar
acts achieves a triumph of duty over strong seductive inclinations,
exhibits thereby a character which we recognise as felicific in a
more general way, as tending to a general performance of duty in all
departments. So again, there is a simple and obvious utilitarian
solution of another difficulty which I noticed, as to the choice
between Subjective and Objective rightness in the exceptional case in
which alone the two can be presented as alternatives,--_i.e._ when we
are considering whether we shall influence another to act contrary to
his conviction as to what is right. A utilitarian would decide the
question by weighing the felicific consequences of the particular right
act against the infelicific results to be apprehended hereafter from
the moral deterioration of the person whose conscientious convictions
were overborne by other motives: unless the former effects were very
important he would reasonably regard the danger to character as the
greater: but if the other’s mistaken sense of duty threatened to cause
a grave disaster, he would not hesitate to overbear it by any motives
which it was in his power to apply. And in practice I think that the
Common Sense of mankind would come to similar conclusions by more vague
and semi-conscious reasoning of the same kind.
In order, however, to form a precise estimate of the extent to which
Utilitarianism agrees or disagrees with Common Sense, it seems best
to examine the more definite judgments of right and wrong in conduct,
under the particular heads represented by our common notions of
virtues and duties. I may begin by pointing out once more that so far
as any adequately precise definitions of these notions are found to
involve, implicitly or explicitly, the notion of ‘good’ or of ‘right’
supposed already determinate, they can afford no ground for opposing
a Utilitarian interpretation of these fundamental conceptions. For
example, we saw this to be the case with the chief of the intellectual
excellences discussed in Book iii. chap. iii. Wisdom, as commonly
conceived, is not exactly the faculty of choosing the right means to
the end of universal happiness; rather, as we saw, its notion involves
an uncritical synthesis of the different ends and principles that are
distinguished and separately examined in the present treatise. But if
its import is not distinctly Utilitarian, it is certainly not anything
else as distinct from Utilitarian: if we can only define it as the
faculty or habit of choosing the right or best means to the right or
best end, for that very reason our definition leaves it quite open to
us to give the notions ‘good’ and ‘right’ a Utilitarian import.
§ 3. Let us then examine first the group of virtues and duties discussed
in Book iii. chap. iv., under the head of Benevolence. As regards the
general conception of the duty, there is, I think, no divergence that
we need consider between the Intuitional and Utilitarian systems.
For though Benevolence would perhaps be more commonly defined as a
disposition to promote the Good of one’s fellow-creatures, rather than
their Happiness (as definitely understood by Utilitarians); still, as
the chief element in the common notion of good (besides happiness)
is moral good or Virtue,[326] if we can show that the other virtues
are--speaking broadly--all qualities conducive to the happiness of the
agent himself or of others, it is evident that Benevolence, whether it
prompts us to promote the virtue of others or their happiness, will
aim directly or indirectly at the Utilitarian end.[327]
Nor, further, does the comprehensive range which Utilitarians give to
Benevolence, in stating as their ultimate end the greatest happiness
of all sentient beings, seem to be really opposed to Common Sense;
for in so far as certain Intuitional moralists restrict the scope of
the direct duty of Benevolence to human beings, and regard our duties
to brute animals as merely indirect and derived “from the duty of
Self-culture,” they rather than their Utilitarian opponents appear
paradoxical. And if, in laying down that each agent is to consider all
other happiness as equally important with his own, Utilitarianism seems
to go beyond the standard of duty commonly prescribed under the head
of Benevolence, it yet can scarcely be said to conflict with Common
Sense on this point. For the practical application of this theoretical
impartiality of Utilitarianism is limited by several important
considerations. In the first place, generally speaking, each man is
better able to provide for his own happiness than for that of other
persons, from his more intimate knowledge of his own desires and needs,
and his greater opportunities of gratifying them. And besides, it is
under the stimulus of self-interest that the active energies of most
men are most easily and thoroughly drawn out: and if this were removed,
general happiness would be diminished by a serious loss of those means
of happiness which are obtained by labour; and also, to some extent,
by the diminution of the labour itself. For these reasons it would not
under actual circumstances promote the universal happiness if each man
were to concern himself with the happiness of others as much as with
his own. While if I consider the duty abstractly and ideally, even
Common Sense morality seems to bid me “love my neighbour as myself.”
It might indeed be plausibly objected, on the other hand, that under
the notions of Generosity, Self-sacrifice, etc., Common Sense praises
(though it does not prescribe as obligatory) a suppression of egoism
beyond what Utilitarianism approves: for we perhaps admire as virtuous
a man who gives up his own happiness for another’s sake, even when the
happiness that he confers is clearly less than that which he resigns,
so that there is a diminution of happiness on the whole. But (1) it
seems very doubtful whether we do altogether approve such conduct when
the disproportion between the sacrifice and the benefit is obvious
and striking: and (2) a spectator is often unable to judge whether
happiness is lost on the whole, as (_a_) he cannot tell how far he who
makes the sacrifice is compensated by sympathetic and moral pleasure,
and (_b_) the remoter felicific consequences flowing from the moral
effects of such a sacrifice on the agent and on others have to be taken
into account: while (3) even if there be a loss in the particular
case, still our admiration of self-sacrifice will admit of a certain
Utilitarian justification, because such conduct shows a disposition far
above the average in its general tendency to promote happiness, and it
is perhaps this disposition that we admire rather than the particular
act.
It has been said,[328] however, that the special claims and duties
belonging to special relations, by which each man is connected with
a few out of the whole number of human beings, are expressly ignored
by the rigid impartiality of the Utilitarian formula: and hence that,
though Utilitarianism and Common Sense may agree in the proposition
that all right action is conducive to the happiness of some one or
other, and so far beneficent, still they are irreconcileably divergent
on the radical question of the _distribution_ of beneficence.
Here, however, it seems that even fair-minded opponents have scarcely
understood the Utilitarian position. They have attacked Bentham’s
well-known formula, “every man to count for one, nobody for more than
one,” on the ground that the general happiness will be best attained by
inequality in the distribution of each one’s services. But so far as it
is clear that it will be best attained in this way, Utilitarianism will
necessarily prescribe this way of aiming at it; and Bentham’s dictum
must be understood merely as making the conception of the ultimate end
precise--laying down that one person’s happiness is to be counted for
as much as another’s (supposed equal in degree) as an element of the
general happiness--not as directly prescribing the rules of conduct
by which this end will be best attained. And the reasons why it is,
generally speaking, conducive to the general happiness that each
individual should distribute his beneficence in the channels marked out
by commonly recognised ties and claims, are tolerably obvious.
For first, in the chief relations discussed in chap. iv. of Book
iii.--the domestic, and those constituted by consanguinity,
friendship, previous kindnesses, and special needs,--the services
which Common Sense prescribes as duties are commonly prompted by
natural affection, while at the same time they tend to develop and
sustain such affection. Now the subsistence of benevolent affections
among human beings is itself an important means to the Utilitarian
end, because (as Shaftesbury and his followers forcibly urged) the
most intense and highly valued of our pleasures are derived from such
affections; for both the emotion itself is highly pleasurable, and it
imparts this quality to the activities which it prompts and sustains,
and the happiness thus produced is continually enhanced by the
sympathetic echo of the pleasures conferred on others. And again, where
genuine affection subsists, the practical objections to spontaneous
beneficence, which were before noticed, are much diminished in force.
For such affection tends to be reciprocated, and the kindnesses
which are its outcome and expression commonly win a requital of
affection: and in so far as this is the case, they have less tendency
to weaken the springs of activity in the person benefited; and may
even strengthen them by exciting other sources of energy than the
egoistic--personal affection, and gratitude, and the desire to deserve
love, and the desire to imitate beneficence. And hence it has been
often observed that the injurious effects of almsgiving are at least
much diminished if the alms are bestowed with unaffected sympathy
and kindliness, and in such a way as to elicit a genuine response of
gratitude. And further, the beneficence that springs from affection is
less likely to be frustrated from defect of knowledge: for not only are
we powerfully stimulated to study the real conditions of the happiness
of those whom we love, but also such study is rendered more effective
from the sympathy which naturally accompanies affection.
On these grounds the Utilitarian will evidently approve of the
cultivation of affection and the performance of affectionate services.
It may be said, however, that what we ought to approve is not so much
affection for special individuals, but rather a feeling more universal
in its scope--charity, philanthropy, or (as it has been called) the
‘Enthusiasm of Humanity.’ And certainly all special affections tend
occasionally to come into conflict with the principle of promoting the
general happiness: and Utilitarianism must therefore prescribe such a
culture of the feelings as will, so far as possible, counteract this
tendency. But it seems that most persons are only capable of strong
affections towards a few human beings in certain close relations,
especially the domestic: and that if these were suppressed, what they
would feel towards their fellow-creatures generally would be, as
Aristotle says, “but a watery kindness” and a very feeble counterpoise
to self-love: so that such specialised affections as the present
organisation of society normally produces afford the best means of
developing in most persons a more extended benevolence, to the degree
to which they are capable of feeling it. Besides, each person is for
the most part, from limitation either of power or knowledge, not in a
position to do much good to more than a very small number of persons;
it therefore seems, on this ground alone, desirable that his chief
benevolent impulses should be correspondingly limited.
And this leads us to consider, secondly, the reasons why, affection
apart, it is conducive to the general happiness that special claims
to services should be commonly recognised as attaching to special
relations; so as to modify that impartiality in the distribution
of beneficence which Utilitarianism _prima facie_ inculcates. For
clearness’ sake it seems best to take this argument separately,
though it cannot easily be divided from the former one, because the
services in question are often such as cannot so well be rendered
without affection. In such cases, as we saw,[329] Common Sense
regards the affection itself as a duty, in so far as it is capable
of being cultivated: but still prescribes the performance of the
services even if the affection be unhappily absent. Indeed we may
properly consider the services to which we are commonly prompted by
the domestic affections, and also those to which we are moved by
gratitude and pity, as an integral part of the system of mutual aid
by which the normal life and happiness of society is maintained,
under existing circumstances; being an indispensable supplement to
the still more essential services which are definitely prescribed by
Law, or rendered on commercial terms as a part of an express bargain.
As political economists have explained, the means of happiness are
immensely increased by that complex system of co-operation which has
been gradually organised among civilised men: and while it is thought
that under such a system it will be generally best on the whole to let
each individual exchange such services as he is disposed to render for
such return as he can obtain for them by free contract, still there
are many large exceptions to this general principle. Of these the most
important is constituted by the case of children. It is necessary for
the well-being of mankind that in each generation children should
be produced in adequate numbers, neither too many nor too few; and
that, as they cannot be left to provide for themselves, they should
be adequately nourished and protected during the period of infancy;
and further, that they should be carefully trained in good habits,
intellectual, moral, and physical: and it is commonly believed that the
best or even the only known means of attaining these ends in even a
tolerable degree is afforded by the existing institution of the Family,
resting as it does on a basis of legal and moral rules combined. For
Law fixes a minimum of mutual services and draws the broad outlines of
behaviour for the different members of the family, imposing[330] on the
parents lifelong union and complete mutual fidelity and the duty of
providing for their children the necessaries of life up to a certain
age; in return for which it gives them the control of their children
for the same period, and sometimes lays on the latter the burden of
supporting their parents when aged and destitute: so that Morality, in
inculcating a completer harmony of interests and an ampler interchange
of kindnesses, is merely filling in the outlines drawn by Law. We
found, however, in attempting to formulate the different domestic
duties as recognised by Common Sense, that there seemed to be in most
cases a large vague margin with respect to which general agreement
could not be affirmed, and which, in fact, forms an arena for continual
disputes. But we have now to observe that it is just this margin
which reveals most clearly the latent Utilitarianism of common moral
opinion: for when the question is once raised as to the precise mutual
duties (_e.g._) of husbands and wives, or of parents and children, each
disputant commonly supports his view by a forecast of the effects on
human happiness to be expected from the general establishment of any
proposed rule; this seems to be the standard to which the matter is, by
common consent, referred.
Similarly the claim to services that arises out of special need (which
natural sympathy moves us to recognise) may obviously be rested on an
utilitarian basis: indeed the proper fulfilment of this duty seems so
important to the well-being of society, that it has in modern civilised
communities generally been brought to some extent within the sphere of
Governmental action. We noticed that the main utilitarian reason why it
is not right for every rich man to distribute his superfluous wealth
among the poor, is that the happiness of all is on the whole most
promoted by maintaining in adults generally (except married women),
the expectation that each will be thrown on his own resources for the
supply of his own wants. But if I am made aware that, owing to a sudden
calamity that could not have been foreseen, another’s resources are
manifestly inadequate to protect him from pain or serious discomfort,
the case is altered; my theoretical obligation to consider his
happiness as much as my own becomes at once practical; and I am bound
to make as much effort to relieve him as will not entail a greater
loss of happiness to myself or others. If, however, the calamity is
one which might have been foreseen and averted by proper care, my duty
becomes more doubtful: for then by relieving him I seem to be in danger
of encouraging improvidence in others. In such a case a Utilitarian
has to weigh this indirect evil against the direct good of removing
pain and distress: and it is now more and more generally recognised
that the question of providing for the destitute has to be treated as
a utilitarian problem of which these are the elements,--whether we are
considering the minimum that should be secured to them by law, or the
proper supplementary action of private charity.
Poverty, however, is not the only case in which it is conducive to
the general happiness that one man should render unbought services to
another. In any condition or calling a man may find himself unable
to ward off some evil, or to realise some legitimate or worthy end,
without assistance of such kind as he cannot purchase on the ordinary
commercial terms;--assistance which, on the one hand, will have no bad
effect on the receiver, from the exceptional nature of the emergency,
while at the same time it may not be burdensome to the giver. Here,
again, some jurists have thought that where the service to be rendered
is great, and the burden of rendering it very slight, it might properly
be made matter of legal obligation: so that (_e.g._) if I could save
a man from drowning by merely holding out a hand, I should be legally
punishable if I omitted the act. But, however this may be, the moral
rule condemning the refusal of aid in such emergencies is obviously
conducive to the general happiness.
Further, besides these--so to say--_accidentally_ unbought services,
there are some for which there is normally no market-price; such as
counsel and assistance in the intimate perplexities of life, which one
is only willing to receive from genuine friends. It much promotes the
general happiness that such services should be generally rendered. On
this ground, as well as through the emotional pleasures which directly
spring from it, we perceive Friendship to be an important means to the
Utilitarian end. At the same time we feel that the charm of Friendship
is lost if the flow of emotion is not spontaneous and unforced. The
combination of these two views seems to be exactly represented by the
sympathy that is not quite admiration with which Common Sense regards
all close and strong affections; and the regret that is not quite
disapproval with which it contemplates their decay.
In all cases where it is conducive to the general happiness that
unbought services should be rendered, Gratitude (if we mean by this
a settled disposition to repay the benefit in whatever way one can
on a fitting opportunity) is enjoined by Utilitarianism no less than
by Common Sense; for experience would lead us to expect that no
kind of onerous services will be adequately rendered unless there
is a general disposition to requite them. In fact we may say that a
general understanding that all services which it is expedient that _A_
should render to _B_ will be in some way repaid by _B_, is a natural
supplement of the more definite contracts by which the main part of
the great social interchange of services is arranged. Indeed the
one kind of requital merges in the other, and no sharp line can be
drawn between the two: we cannot always say distinctly whether the
requital of a benefit is a pure act of gratitude or the fulfilment of
a tacit understanding.[331] There is, however, a certain difficulty in
this view of gratitude as analogous to the fulfilment of a bargain.
For it may be said that of the services peculiar to friendship
disinterestedness is an indispensable characteristic; and that in all
cases benefits conferred without expectation of reward have a peculiar
excellence, and are indeed peculiarly adapted to arouse gratitude;
but if they are conferred in expectation of such gratitude, they lose
this excellence; and yet, again, it would be very difficult to treat
as a friend one from whom gratitude was not expected. This seems,
at first sight, an inextricable entanglement: but here, as in other
cases, an apparent ethical contradiction is found to reduce itself to a
psychological complexity. For most of our actions are done from several
different motives, either coexisting or succeeding one another in rapid
alternation: thus a man may have a perfectly disinterested desire
to benefit another, and one which might possibly prevail over all
conflicting motives if all hope of requital were cut off, and yet it
may be well that this generous impulse should be sustained by a vague
trust that requital will not be withheld. And in fact the apparent
puzzle really affords another illustration of the latent Utilitarianism
of Common Sense. For, on the one hand, Utilitarianism prescribes that
we should render services whenever it is conducive to the general
happiness to do so, which may often be the case without taking into
account the gain to oneself which would result from their requital: and
on the other hand, since we may infer from the actual selfishness of
average men that such services would not be adequately rendered without
expectation of requital, it is also conducive to the general happiness
that men should recognise a moral obligation to repay them.
We have discussed only the most conspicuous of the duties of affection:
but it is probably obvious that similar reasonings would apply in the
case of the others.
In all such cases there are three distinct lines of argument which
tend to show that the commonly received view of special claims and
duties arising out of special relations, though _prima facie_ opposed
to the impartial universality of the Utilitarian principle, is really
maintained by a well-considered application of that principle.
First, morality is here in a manner protecting the normal channels
and courses of natural benevolent affections; and the development of
such affections is of the highest importance to human happiness, both
as a direct source of pleasure, and as an indispensable preparation
for a more enlarged “altruism.” And again, the mere fact that such
affections are normal, causes an expectation of the services that are
their natural expression; and the disappointment of such expectations
is inevitably painful. While finally, apart from these considerations,
we can show in each case strong utilitarian reasons why, generally
speaking, services should be rendered to the persons commonly
recognised as having such claims rather than to others.
We have to observe, in conclusion, that the difficulties which we found
in the way of determining by the Intuitional method the limits and the
relative importance of these duties are reduced in the Utilitarian
system, to difficulties of hedonistic comparison.[332] For each of the
preceding arguments has shown us different kinds of pleasures gained
and pains averted by the fulfilment of the claims in question. There
are, first, those which the service claimed would directly promote or
avert: secondly, there is the pain and secondary harm of disappointed
expectation, if the service be not rendered: thirdly, we have to reckon
the various pleasures connected with the exercise of natural benevolent
affections, especially when reciprocated, including the indirect
effects on the agent’s character of maintaining such affections. All
these different pleasures and pains combine differently, and with
almost infinite variation as circumstances vary, into utilitarian
reasons for each of the claims in question; none of these reasons being
absolute and conclusive, but each having its own weight, while liable
to be outweighed by others.
§ 4. I pass to consider another group of duties, often contrasted with
those of Benevolence, under the comprehensive notion of Justice.
“That Justice is useful to society,” says Hume, “it would be a
superfluous undertaking to prove”: what he endeavours to show at some
length is “that public utility is the _sole_ origin of Justice”: and
the same question of origin has occupied the chief attention of J.
S. Mill.[333] Here, however, we are not so much concerned with the
growth of the sentiment of Justice from experiences of utility, as
with the Utilitarian basis of the mature notion; while at the same
time if the analysis previously given be correct, the Justice that
is commonly demanded and inculcated is something more complex than
these writers have recognised. What Hume (_e.g._) means by Justice is
rather what I should call Order, understood in its widest sense: the
observance of the actual system of rules, whether strictly legal or
customary, which bind together the different members of any society
into an organic whole, checking malevolent or otherwise injurious
impulses, distributing the different objects of men’s clashing desires,
and exacting such positive services, customary or contractual, as are
commonly recognised as matters of debt. And though there have rarely
been wanting plausible empirical arguments for the revolutionary
paradox quoted by Plato, that “laws are imposed in the interest of
rulers,” it remains true that the general conduciveness to social
happiness of the habit of Order or Law-observance, is, as Hume says,
too obvious to need proof; indeed it is of such paramount importance
to a community, that even where particular laws are clearly injurious
it is usually expedient to observe them, apart from any penalty which
their breach might entail on the individual. We saw, however, that
Common Sense sometimes bids us refuse obedience to bad laws, because
“we ought to obey God rather than men” (though there seems to be no
clear intuition as to the kind or degree of badness that justifies
resistance); and further allows us, in special emergencies, to violate
rules generally good, for “necessity has no law,” and “salus populi
suprema lex.”
These and similar common opinions seem at least to suggest that
the limits of the duty of Law-observance are to be determined by
utilitarian considerations. While, again, the Utilitarian view gets
rid of the difficulties in which the attempt to define intuitively the
truly legitimate source of legislative authority involved us;[334]
at the same time that it justifies to some extent each of the
different views current as to the intrinsic legitimacy of governments.
For, on the one hand, it finds the moral basis of any established
political order primarily in its effects rather than its causes; so
that, generally speaking, obedience will seem due to any _de facto_
government that is not governing very badly. On the other hand, in
so far as laws originating in a particular way are likely to be (1)
better, or (2) more readily observed, it is a Utilitarian duty to aim
at introducing this mode of origination: and thus in a certain stage
of social development it may be right that (_e.g._) a ‘representative
system’ should be popularly demanded, or possibly (in extreme cases)
even introduced by force: while, again, there is expediency in
maintaining an ancient mode of legislation, because men readily obey
such: and loyalty to a dispossessed government may be on the whole
expedient, even at the cost of some temporary suffering and disorder,
in order that ambitious men may not find usurpation too easy. Here,
as elsewhere, Utilitarianism at once supports the different reasons
commonly put forward as absolute, and also brings them theoretically to
a common measure, so that in any particular case we have a principle of
decision between conflicting political arguments.
As was before said, this Law-observance, in so far at least as it
affects the interests of other individuals, is what we frequently
mean by Justice. It seems, however,[335] that the notion of Justice,
exhaustively analysed, includes several distinct elements combined in
a somewhat complex manner: we have to inquire, therefore, what latent
utilities are represented by each of these elements.
Now, first, a constant part of the notion, which appears in it even
when the Just is not distinguished from the Legal, is impartiality or
the negation of arbitrary inequality. This impartiality, as we saw[336]
(whether exhibited in the establishment or in the administration of
laws), is merely a special application of the wider maxim that it
cannot be right to treat two persons differently if their cases are
similar in all material circumstances. And Utilitarianism, as we saw,
admits this maxim no less than other systems of Ethics. At the same
time, this negative criterion is clearly inadequate for the complete
determination of what is just in laws, or in conduct generally; when we
have admitted this, it still remains to ask, “What are the inequalities
in laws, and in the distribution of pleasures and pains outside the
sphere of law, which are not arbitrary and unreasonable? and to what
general principles can they be reduced?”
Here in the first place we may explain, on utilitarian principles,
why apparently arbitrary inequality in a certain part of the conduct
of individuals[337] is not regarded as injustice or even--in some
cases--as in any way censurable. For freedom of action is an important
source of happiness to the agents, and a socially useful stimulus
to their energies: hence it is obviously expedient that a man’s
free choice in the distribution of wealth or kind services should
not be restrained by the fear of legal penalties, or even of social
disapprobation, beyond what the interests of others clearly require;
and therefore, when distinctly recognised claims are satisfied, it
is _pro tanto_ expedient that the mere preferences of an individual
should be treated by others as legitimate grounds for inequality in
the distribution of his property or services. Nay, as we have before
seen, it is within certain limits expedient that each individual should
practically regard his own unreasoned impulses as reasonable grounds of
action: as in the rendering of services prompted by such affections as
are normally and properly spontaneous and unforced.
Passing to consider the general principles upon which ‘just claims’ as
commonly recognised appear to be based, we notice that the grounds of a
number of such claims may be brought under the general head of ‘normal
expectations’; but that the stringency of such obligations varies
much in degree, according as the expectations are based upon definite
engagements, or on some vague mutual understanding, or are merely such
as an average man would form from past experience of the conduct of
other men. In these latter cases Common Sense appeared to be somewhat
perplexed as to the validity of the claims. But for the Utilitarian
the difficulty has ceased to exist. He will hold any disappointment
of expectations to be _pro tanto_ an evil, but a greater evil in
proportion to the previous security of the expectant individual, from
the greater shock thus given to his reliance on the conduct of his
fellow-men generally: and many times greater in proportion as the
expectation is generally recognised as normal and reasonable, as in
this case the shock extends to all who are in any way cognisant of his
disappointment. The importance to mankind of being able to rely on
each other’s actions is so great, that in ordinary cases of absolutely
definite engagements there is scarcely any advantage that can
counterbalance the harm done by violating them. Still, we found[338]
that several exceptions and qualifications to the rule of Good Faith
were more or less distinctly recognised by Common Sense: and most of
these have a utilitarian basis, which it does not need much penetration
to discern. To begin, we may notice that the superficial view of the
obligation of a promise which makes it depend on the assertion of the
promiser, and not, as Utilitarians hold, on the expectations produced
in the promisee, cannot fairly be attributed to Common Sense: which
certainly condemns a breach of promise much more strongly when others
have acted in reliance on it, than when its observance did not directly
concern others, so that its breach involves for them only the indirect
evil of a bad precedent,--as when a man breaks a pledge of total
abstinence. We see, again, how the utilitarian reasons for keeping a
promise are diminished by a material change of circumstances,[339] for
in that case the expectations disappointed by breaking it are at least
not those which the promise originally created. It is obvious, too,
that it is a disadvantage to the community that men should be able
to rely on the performance of promises procured by fraud or unlawful
force, so far as encouragement is thereby given to the use of fraud or
force for this end.[340] We saw, again,[341] that when the performance
would be injurious to the promisee, Common Sense is disposed to admit
that its obligation is superseded; and is at least doubtful whether the
promise should be kept, even when it is only the promiser who would
be injured, if the harm be extreme;--both which qualifications are in
harmony with Utilitarianism. And similarly for the other qualifications
and exceptions: they all turn out to be as clearly utilitarian, as the
general utility of keeping one’s word is plain and manifest.
But further, the expediency of satisfying normal expectations, even
when they are not based upon a definite contract, is undeniable; it
will clearly conduce to the tranquillity of social existence, and
to the settled and well-adjusted activity on which social happiness
greatly depends, that such expectations should be as little as possible
baulked. And here Utilitarianism relieves us of the difficulties which
beset the common view of just conduct as something absolutely precise
and definite. For in this vaguer region we cannot draw a sharp line
between valid and invalid claims; ‘injustice’ shades gradually off into
mere ‘hardship.’ Hence the Utilitarian view that the disappointment of
natural expectations is an evil, but an evil which must sometimes be
incurred for the sake of a greater good, is that to which Common Sense
is practically forced, though it is difficult to reconcile it with the
theoretical absoluteness of Justice in the Intuitional view of Morality.
The gain of recognising the relativity of this obligation will be still
more felt, when we consider what I distinguished as Ideal Justice, and
examine the general conceptions of this which we find expressed or
latent in current criticisms of the existing order of Society.
We have seen that there are two competing views of an ideally just
social order--or perhaps we may say two extreme types between which
the looser notions of ordinary men seem to fluctuate--which I called
respectively Individualistic and Socialistic. According to the former
view an ideal system of Law ought to aim at Freedom, or perfect mutual
non-interference of all the members of the community, as an absolute
end. Now the general utilitarian reasons for leaving each rational
adult free to seek happiness in his own way are obvious and striking:
for, generally speaking, each is best qualified to provide for his own
interests, since even when he does not know best what they are and how
to attain them, he is at any rate most keenly concerned for them: and
again, the consciousness of freedom and concomitant responsibility
increases the average effective activity of men: and besides, the
discomfort of constraint is directly an evil and _pro tanto_ to be
avoided. Still, we saw[342] that the attempt to construct a consistent
code of laws, taking Maximum Freedom (instead of Happiness) as an
absolute end, must lead to startling paradoxes and insoluble puzzles:
and in fact the practical interpretation of the notion ‘Freedom,’ and
the limits within which its realisation has been actually sought, have
always--even in the freest societies--been more or less consciously
determined by considerations of expediency. So that we may fairly say
that in so far as Common Sense has adopted the Individualistic ideal
in politics, it has always been as subordinate to and limited by the
Utilitarian first principle.[343]
It seems, however, that what we commonly demand or long for, under the
name of Ideal Justice, is not so much the realisation of Freedom, as
the distribution of good and evil according to Desert: indeed it is as
a means to this latter end that Freedom is often advocated; for it is
said that if we protect men completely from mutual interference, each
will reap the good and bad consequences of his own conduct, and so be
happy or unhappy in proportion to his deserts. In particular, it has
been widely held that if a free exchange of wealth and services is
allowed, each individual will obtain from society, in money or other
advantages, what his services are really worth. We saw, however, that
the price which an individual obtains under a system of perfect free
trade, for wealth or services exchanged by him, may for several reasons
be not proportioned to the social utility of what he exchanges: and
reflective Common Sense seems to admit this disproportion as to some
extent legitimate, under the influence of utilitarian considerations
correcting the unreflective utterances of moral sentiments.
To take a particular case: if a moral man were asked how far it is
right to take advantage in bargaining of another’s ignorance, probably
his first impulse would be to condemn such a procedure altogether.
But reflection, I think, would show him that such a censure would
be too sweeping: that it would be contrary to Common Sense to “blame
_A_ for having, in negotiating with a stranger _B_, taken advantage
of _B_’s ignorance of facts known to himself, provided that _A_’s
superior knowledge had been obtained by a legitimate use of diligence
and foresight, which _B_ might have used with equal success.... What
prevents us from censuring in this and similar cases is, I conceive,
a more or less conscious apprehension of the indefinite loss to the
wealth of the community that is likely to result from any effective
social restrictions on the free pursuit and exercise” of economic
knowledge. And for somewhat similar reasons of general expediency, if
the question be raised whether it is fair for a class of persons to
gain by the unfavourable economic situation of any class with which
they deal, Common Sense at least hesitates to censure such gains--at
any rate when such unfavourable situation is due “to the gradual action
of general causes, for the existence of which the persons who gain are
not specially responsible.”[344]
The general principle of ‘requiting good desert,’ so far as Common
Sense really accepts it as practically applicable to the relations of
men in society, is broadly in harmony with Utilitarianism; since we
obviously encourage the production of general happiness by rewarding
men for felicific conduct; only the Utilitarian scale of rewards will
not be determined entirely by the magnitude of the services performed,
but partly also by the difficulty of inducing men to perform them.
But this latter element seems to be always taken into account (though
perhaps unconsciously) by Common Sense: for, as we have been led to
notice,[345] we do not commonly recognise merit in right actions,
if they are such as men are naturally inclined to perform rather
too much than too little. Again, in cases where the Intuitional
principle that ill-desert lies in wrong intention conflicts with the
Utilitarian view of punishment as purely preventive, we find that in
the actual administration of criminal justice, Common Sense is forced,
however reluctantly, into practical agreement with Utilitarianism.
Thus after a civil war it demands the execution of the most purely
patriotic rebels; and after a railway accident it clamours for the
severe punishment of unintentional neglects, which, except for their
consequences, would have been regarded as very venial.
If, however, in any distribution of pleasures and privileges, or of
pains and burdens, considerations of desert do not properly come in
(_i.e._ if the good or evil to be distributed have no relation to any
conduct on the part of the persons who are to receive either)--or
if it is practically impossible to take such considerations into
account--then Common Sense seems to fall back on simple equality as
the principle of just apportionment.[346] And we have seen that the
Utilitarian, in the case supposed, will reasonably accept Equality
as the only mode of distribution that is not arbitrary; and it may
be observed that this mode of apportioning the means of happiness is
likely to produce more happiness on the whole, not only because men
have a disinterested aversion to unreason, but still more because they
have an aversion to any kind of inferiority to others (which is much
intensified when the inferiority seems unreasonable). This latter
feeling is so strong that it often prevails in spite of obvious claims
of desert; and it may even be sometimes expedient that it should so
prevail.
For, finally, it must be observed that Utilitarianism furnishes us
with a common standard to which the different elements included in
the notion of Justice may be reduced. Such a standard is imperatively
required: as these different elements are continually liable to
conflict with each other. The issue, for example, in practical
politics between Conservatives and Reformers often represents such a
conflict: the question is, whether we ought to do a certain violence to
expectations arising naturally out of the existing social order, with
the view of bringing about a distribution of the means of happiness
more in accordance with ideal justice. Here, if my analysis of the
common notion of Justice be sound, the attempt to extract from it a
clear decision of such an issue must necessarily fail: as the conflict
is, so to say, permanently latent in the very core of Common Sense. But
the Utilitarian will merely use this notion of Justice as a guide to
different kinds of utilities; and in so far as these are incompatible,
he will balance one set of advantages against the other, and decide
according to the preponderance.
§ 5. The duty of Truth-speaking is sometimes taken as a striking
instance of a moral rule not resting on a Utilitarian basis. But a
careful study of the qualifications with which the common opinion of
mankind actually inculcates this duty seems to lead us to an opposite
result: for not only is the general utility of truth-speaking so
manifest as to need no proof, but wherever this utility seems to be
absent, or outweighed by particular bad consequences, we find that
Common Sense at least hesitates to enforce the rule. For example, if
a man be pursuing criminal ends, it is _prima facie_ injurious to the
community that he should be aided in his pursuit by being able to rely
on the assertions of others. Here, then, deception is _prima facie_
legitimate as a protection against crime: though when we consider
the bad effects on habit, and through example, of even a single act
of unveracity, the case is seen to be, on Utilitarian principles,
doubtful: and this is just the view of Common Sense. Again, though it
is generally a man’s interest to know the truth, there are exceptional
cases in which it is injurious to him--as when an invalid hears bad
news--and here, too, Common Sense is disposed to suspend the rule.
Again, we found it difficult to define exactly wherein Veracity
consists; for we may either require truth in the spoken words, or in
the inferences which the speaker foresees will be drawn from them,
or in both. Perfect Candour, no doubt, would require it in both:
but in the various circumstances where this seems inexpedient, we
often find Common Sense at least half-willing to dispense with one
or other part of the double obligation. Thus we found a respectable
school of thinkers maintaining that a religious truth may properly be
communicated by means of a historical fiction: and, on the other hand,
the unsuitability of perfect frankness to our existing social relations
is recognised in the common rules of politeness, which impose on us
not unfrequently the necessity of suppressing truths and suggesting
falsehoods. I would not say that in any of these cases Common Sense
pronounces quite decidedly in favour of unveracity: but then neither
is Utilitarianism decided, as the utility of maintaining a general
habit of truth-speaking is so great, that it is not easy to prove it to
be clearly outweighed by even strong special reasons for violating the
rule.
Yet it may be worth while to point out how the different views as to
the legitimacy of Malevolent impulses, out of which we found it hard
to frame a consistent doctrine for Common Sense, exactly correspond
to different forecasts of the consequences of gratifying such
impulses. _Prima facie_, the desire to injure any one in particular
is inconsistent with a deliberate purpose of benefiting as much as
possible people in general; accordingly, we find that what I may
call Superficial Common Sense passes a sweeping condemnation on
such desires. But a study of the actual facts of society shows that
resentment plays an important part in that repression of injuries which
is necessary to social wellbeing; accordingly, the reflective moralist
shrinks from excluding it altogether. It is evident, however, that
personal ill-will is a very dangerous means to the general happiness:
for its direct end is the exact opposite of happiness; and though
the realisation of this end may in certain cases be the least of two
evils, still the impulse if encouraged is likely to prompt to the
infliction of pain beyond the limits of just punishment, and to have an
injurious reaction on the character of the angry person. Accordingly,
the moralist is disposed to prescribe that indignation be directed
always against acts, and not against persons; and if indignation so
restricted would be efficient in repressing injuries, this would seem
to be the state of mind most conducive to the general happiness. But it
is doubtful whether average human nature is capable of maintaining this
distinction, and whether, if it could be maintained, the more refined
aversion would by itself be sufficiently efficacious: accordingly,
Common Sense hesitates to condemn personal ill-will against
wrong-doers--even if it includes a desire of malevolent satisfaction.
Finally, it is easy to show that Temperance, Self-control, and what
are called the Self-regarding virtues generally, are ‘useful’ to the
individual who possesses them: and if it is not quite clear, in the
view of Common Sense, to what end that regulation and government of
appetites and passions, which moralists have so much inculcated and
admired, is to be directed; at least there seems no obstacle in the
way of our defining this end as Happiness. And even in the ascetic
extreme of Self-control, which has sometimes led to the repudiation
of sensual pleasures as radically bad, we may trace an unconscious
Utilitarianism. For the ascetic condemnation has always been chiefly
directed against those pleasures, in respect of which men are
especially liable to commit excesses dangerous to health; and free
indulgence in which, even when it keeps clear of injury to health,
is thought to interfere with the development of other faculties and
susceptibilities which are important sources of happiness.
§ 6. An apparent exception to this statement may seem to be constituted
in the case of the sexual appetite, by the regulation prescribed under
the notion of Purity or Chastity. And there is no doubt that under
this head we find condemned, with special vehemence and severity, acts
of which the immediate effect is pleasure not obviously outweighed by
subsequent pain. But a closer examination of this exception transforms
it into an important contribution to the present argument: as it
shows a specially complex and delicate correspondence between moral
sentiments and social utilities.
In the first place, the peculiar intensity and delicacy of the moral
sentiments that govern the relations of the sexes are thoroughly
justified by the vast importance to society of the end to which they
are obviously a means,--the maintenance, namely, of the permanent
unions which are held to be necessary for the proper rearing and
training of children. Hence the first and fundamental rule in this
department is that which directly secures conjugal fidelity: and the
utilitarian grounds for protecting marriage indirectly, by condemning
all extra-nuptial intercourse of the sexes, are obvious: for to remove
the moral censure that rests on such intercourse would seriously
diminish men’s motives for incurring the restraints and burdens which
marriage entails; and the youth of both sexes would form habits of
feeling and conduct tending to unfit them for marriage; and, if such
intercourse were fertile, it would be attended with that imperfect care
of the succeeding generation, which it seems the object of permanent
unions to prevent; while if it were sterile, the future of the human
race would, as far as we can see, be still more profoundly imperilled.
But, further, it is only on Utilitarian principles that we can account
for the anomalous difference which the morality of Common Sense has
always made between the two sexes as regards the simple offence of
unchastity. For the offence is commonly more deliberate in the man,
who has the additional guilt of soliciting and persuading the woman;
in the latter, again, it is far more often prompted by some motive
that we rank higher than mere lust: so that, according to the ordinary
canons of intuitional morality, it ought to be more severely condemned
in the man. The actual inversion of this result can only be justified
by taking into account the greater interest that society has in
maintaining a high standard of female chastity. For the degradation
of this standard must strike at the root of family life, by impairing
men’s security in the exercise of their parental affections: but there
is no corresponding consequence of male unchastity, which may therefore
prevail to a considerable extent without imperilling the very existence
of the family, though it impairs its wellbeing.