At the same time, the condemnation of unchastity in men by the common

moral sense of Christian countries at the present day, is sufficiently

clear and explicit: though we recognise the existence of a laxer

code--the morality, as it is called, of ‘the world’--which treats

it as indifferent, or very venial. But the very difference between

the two codes gives a kind of support to the present argument; as

it corresponds to easily explained differences of insight into the

consequences of maintaining certain moral sanctions. For partly,

it is thought by ‘men of the world’ that men cannot practically be

restrained from sexual indulgence, at least at the period of life when

the passions are strongest: and hence that it is expedient to tolerate

such kind and degree of illicit sexual intercourse as is not directly

dangerous to the wellbeing of families. Partly, again, it is maintained

by some, in bolder antagonism to Common Sense, that the existence of

a certain limited amount of such intercourse (with a special class of

women, carefully separated, as at present, from the rest of society)

is scarcely a real evil, and may even be a positive gain in respect

of general happiness; for continence is perhaps somewhat dangerous

to health, and in any case involves a loss of pleasure considerable

in intensity; while at the same time the maintenance of as numerous

a population as is desirable in an old society does not require

that more than a certain proportion of the women in each generation

should become mothers of families; and if some of the surplus make it

their profession to enter into casual and temporary sexual relations

with men, there is no necessity that their lives should compare

disadvantageously in respect of happiness with those of other women in

the less favoured classes of society.

This view has perhaps a superficial plausibility: but it ignores the

essential fact that it is only by the present severe enforcement

against unchaste women of the penalties of social contempt and

exclusion, resting on moral disapprobation, that the class of

courtesans is kept sufficiently separate from the rest of female

society to prevent the contagion of unchastity from spreading; and

that the illicit intercourse of the sexes is restrained within such

limits as not to interfere materially with the due development of the

race. This consideration is sufficient to decide a Utilitarian to

support generally the established rule against this kind of conduct,

and therefore to condemn violations of the rule as on the whole

infelicific, even though they may perhaps appear to have this quality

only in consequence of the moral censure attached to them.[347]

Further, the ‘man of the world’ ignores the vast importance to the

human race of maintaining that higher type of sexual relations which

is not, generally speaking, possible, except where a high value is set

upon chastity in both sexes. From this point of view the Virtue of

Purity may be regarded as providing a necessary shelter under which

that intense and elevated affection between the sexes, which is most

conducive both to the happiness of the individual and to the wellbeing

of the family, may grow and flourish.

And in this way we are able to explain what must have perplexed

many reflective minds in contemplating the common-sense regulation

of conduct under the head of Purity: viz. that on the one hand the

sentiment that supports these rules is very intense, so that the

subjective difference between right and wrong in this department is

marked with peculiar strength: while on the other hand it is found

impossible to give a clear definition of the conduct condemned under

this notion. For the impulse to be restrained is so powerful and so

sensitive to stimulants of all kinds, that, in order that the sentiment

of purity may adequately perform its protective function, it is

required to be very keen and vivid; and the aversion to impurity must

extend far beyond the acts that primarily need to be prohibited, and

include in its scope everything (in dress, language, social customs,

etc.) which may tend to excite lascivious ideas. At the same time it

is not necessary that the line between right and wrong in such matters

should be drawn with theoretical precision: it is sufficient for

practical purposes if the main central portion of the region of duty be

strongly illuminated, while the margin is left somewhat obscure. And,

in fact, the detailed regulations which it is important to society to

maintain depend so much upon habit and association of ideas, that they

must vary to a great extent from age to age and from country to country.

§ 7. The preceding survey has supplied us with several illustrations of

the manner in which Utilitarianism is normally introduced as a method

for deciding between different conflicting claims, in cases where

common sense leaves their relative importance obscure,--as (_e.g._)

between the different duties of the affections, and the different

principles which analysis shows to be involved in our common conception

of Justice--: and we have also noticed how, when a dispute is raised

as to the precise scope and definition of any current moral rule, the

effects of different acceptations of the rule on general happiness

or social wellbeing are commonly regarded as the ultimate grounds

on which the dispute is to be decided. In fact these two arguments

practically run into one; for it is generally a conflict between maxims

that impresses men with the need of giving each a precise definition.

It may be urged that the consequences to which reference is commonly

made in such cases are rather effects on ‘social wellbeing’ than on

‘general happiness’ as understood by Utilitarians; and that the two

notions ought not to be identified. I grant this: but in the last

chapter of the preceding Book I have tried to show that Common Sense

is unconsciously utilitarian in its practical determination of those

very elements in the notion of Ultimate Good or Wellbeing which at

first sight least admit of a hedonistic interpretation. We may now

observe that this hypothesis of ‘Unconscious Utilitarianism’ explains

the different relative importance attached to particular virtues by

different classes of human beings, and the different emphasis with

which the same virtue is inculcated on these different classes by

mankind generally. For such differences ordinarily correspond to

variations--real or apparent--in the Utilitarian importance of the

virtues under different circumstances. Thus we have noticed the greater

stress laid on chastity in women than in men: courage, on the other

hand, is more valued in the latter, as they are more called upon to

cope energetically with sudden and severe dangers. And for similar

reasons a soldier is expected to show a higher degree of courage than

(_e.g._) a priest. Again, though we esteem candour and scrupulous

sincerity in most persons, we scarcely look for them in a diplomatist

who has to conceal secrets, nor do we expect that a tradesman in

describing his goods should frankly point out their defects to his

customers.

Finally, when we compare the different moral codes of different ages

and countries, we see that the discrepancies among them correspond, at

least to a great extent, to differences either in the actual effects

of actions on happiness, or in the extent to which such effects are

generally foreseen--or regarded as important--by the men among whom

the codes are maintained. Several instances of this have already been

noticed: and the general fact, which has been much dwelt upon by

Utilitarian writers, is also admitted and even emphasised by their

opponents. Thus Dugald Stewart[348] lays stress on the extent to which

the moral judgments of mankind have been modified by “the diversity in

their physical circumstances,” the “unequal degrees of civilisation

which they have attained,” and “their unequal measures of knowledge

or of capacity.” He points out, for instance, that theft is regarded

as a very venial offence in the South Sea Islanders, because little

or no labour is there required to support life; that the lending of

money for interest is commonly reprehended in societies where commerce

is imperfectly developed, because the ‘usurer’ in such communities is

commonly in the odious position of wringing a gain out of the hard

necessities of his fellows; and that where the legal arrangements for

punishing crime are imperfect, private murder is either justified or

regarded very leniently. Many other examples might be added to these

if it were needful. But I conceive that few persons who have studied

the subject will deny that there is a certain degree of correlation

between the variations in the moral code from age to age, and the

variations in the real or perceived effects on general happiness of

actions prescribed or forbidden by the code. And in proportion as the

apprehension of consequences becomes more comprehensive and exact,

we may trace not only change in the moral code handed down from age

to age, but progress in the direction of a closer approximation to

a perfectly enlightened Utilitarianism. Only we must distinctly

notice another important factor in the progress, which Stewart has

not mentioned: the extension, namely, of the capacity for sympathy

in an average member of the community. The imperfection of earlier

moral codes is at least as much due to defectiveness of sympathy as

of intelligence; often, no doubt, the ruder man did not perceive the

effects of his conduct on others; but often, again, he perceived them

more or less, but felt little or no concern about them. Thus it happens

that changes in the conscience of a community often correspond to

changes in the extent and degree of the sensitiveness of an average

member of it to the feelings of others. Of this the moral development

historically worked out under the influence of Christianity affords

familiar illustrations.[349]

I am not maintaining that this correlation between the development of

current morality and the changes in the consequences of conduct as

sympathetically forecast, is perfect and exact. On the contrary,--as I

shall have occasion to point out in the next chapter--the history of

morality shows us many evidences of what, from the Utilitarian point

of view, appear to be partial aberrations of the moral sense. But

even in these instances we can often discover a germ of unconscious

Utilitarianism; the aberration is often only an exaggeration of an

obviously useful sentiment, or the extension of it by mistaken analogy

to cases to which it does not properly apply, or perhaps the survival

of a sentiment which once was useful but has now ceased to be so.

Further, it must be observed that I have carefully abstained from

asserting that the perception of the rightness of any kind of

conduct has always--or even ordinarily--been derived by conscious

inference from a perception of consequent advantages. This hypothesis

is naturally suggested by such a survey as the preceding; but the

evidence of history hardly seems to me to support it: since, as we

retrace the development of ethical thought, the Utilitarian basis of

current morality, which I have endeavoured to exhibit in the present

chapter, seems to be rather less than more distinctly apprehended by

the common moral consciousness. Thus (_e.g._) Aristotle sees that

the sphere of the Virtue of Courage (ἀνδρεία), as recognised

by the Common Sense of Greece, is restricted to dangers in war: and

we can now explain this limitation by a reference to the utilitarian

importance of this kind of courage, at a period of history when the

individual’s happiness was bound up more completely than it now is with

the welfare of his state, while the very existence of the latter was

more frequently imperilled by hostile invasions: but this explanation

lies quite beyond the range of Aristotle’s own reflection. The origin

of our moral notions and sentiments lies hid in those obscure regions

of hypothetical history where conjecture has free scope: but we do

not find that, as our retrospect approaches the borders of this

realm, the conscious connexion in men’s minds between accepted moral

rules and foreseen effects on general happiness becomes more clearly

traceable. The admiration felt by early man for beauties or excellences

of character seems to have been as direct and unreflective as his

admiration of any other beauty: and the stringency of law and custom in

primitive times presents itself as sanctioned by the evils which divine

displeasure will supernaturally inflict on their violators, rather than

by even a rude and vague forecast of the natural bad consequences of

non-observance. It is therefore not as the mode of regulating conduct

with which mankind began, but rather as that to which we can now see

that human development has been always tending, as the adult and not

the germinal form of Morality, that Utilitarianism may most reasonably

claim the acceptance of Common Sense.

* * * * *

[350]If we consider the relation of Ethics to Politics from a

Utilitarian point of view, the question, what rules of conduct for the

governed should be fixed by legislators and applied by judges, will be

determined by the same kind of forecast of consequences as will be used

in settling all questions of private morality: we shall endeavour to

estimate and balance against each other the effects of such rules on

the general happiness. In so far, however, as we divide the Utilitarian

theory of private conduct from that of legislation, and ask which is

prior, the answer would seem to be different in respect of different

parts of the legal code.

1. To a great extent the rules laid down in a utilitarian code of law

will be such as any man sincerely desirous of promoting the general

happiness would generally endeavour to observe, even if they were not

legally binding. Of this kind is the rule of not inflicting any bodily

harm or gratuitous annoyance on any one, except in self-defence or

as retribution for wrong; the rule of not interfering with another’s

pursuit of the means of happiness, or with his enjoyment of wealth

acquired by his own labour or the free consent of others; the rule

of fulfilling all engagements freely entered into with any one,--at

any rate unless the fulfilment were harmful to others, or much more

harmful to oneself than beneficial to him, or unless there were good

grounds for supposing that the other party would not perform his share

of a bilateral contract--; and the rule of supporting one’s children

while helpless, and one’s parents if decrepit, and of educating one’s

children suitably to their future life. As regards such rules as these,

Utilitarian Ethics seems independent of Politics, and naturally prior

to it; we first consider what conduct is right for private individuals,

and then to how much of this they can advantageously be compelled by

legal penalties.

2. There are other rules again which it is clearly for the general

happiness to observe, if only their observance is enforced on others;

_e.g._ abstinence from personal retaliation of injuries, and a more

general and unhesitating fulfilment of contracts than would perhaps be

expedient if they were not legally enforced.

3. But again, in the complete determination of the mutual claims

of members of society to services and forbearances, there are many

points on which the utilitarian theory of right private conduct apart

from law would lead to a considerable variety of conclusions, from

the great difference in the force of the relevant considerations

under different circumstances; while at the same time uniformity is

either indispensable, to prevent disputes and disappointments, or at

least highly desirable, in order to maintain effectively such rules

of conduct as are _generally_--though not _universally_--expedient.

Under this head would come the exacter definition of the limits of

appropriation,--_e.g._ as regards property in literary compositions and

technical inventions,--and a large part of the law of inheritance, and

of the law regulating the family relations. In such cases, in so far as

they are capable of being theoretically determined, Utilitarian Ethics

seems to blend with Utilitarian Politics in a rather complicated way;

since we cannot determine the right conduct for a private individual in

any particular case, without first considering what rule (if any) it

would be on the whole expedient to maintain, in the society of which

he is a member, by legal penalties, as well as by the weaker and less

definite sanctions of moral opinion. This problem, moreover, in any

concrete case is necessarily further complicated by the consideration

of the delicate mutual relations of Positive Law and Positive

Morality--as we may call the actual moral opinions generally held in a

given society at a given time. For on the one hand it is dangerous in

legislation to advance beyond Positive Morality, by prohibiting actions

(or inactions) that are generally approved or tolerated; on the other

hand, up to the point at which this danger becomes serious, legislation

is a most effective instrument for modifying or intensifying public

opinion, in the direction in which it is desirable that it should

progress. Leaving this difficult question of social dynamics, we may

say that normally in a well-organised society the most important and

indispensable rules of social behaviour will be legally enforced and

the less important left to be maintained by Positive Morality. Law will

constitute, as it were, the skeleton of social order, clothed upon by

the flesh and blood of Morality.

FOOTNOTES:

[322] It ought to be observed that Cumberland does not adopt a

hedonistic interpretation of Good. Still, I have followed Hallam in

regarding him as the founder of English Utilitarianism: since it seems

to have been by a gradual and half-unconscious process that ‘Good’ came

to have the definitely hedonistic meaning which it has implicitly in

Shaftesbury’s system, and explicitly in that of Hume.

[323] I should point out that Hume uses “utility” in a narrower sense

than that which Bentham gave it, and one more in accordance with the

usage of ordinary language. He distinguishes the “useful” from the

“immediately agreeable”: so that while recognising “utility” as the

main ground of our moral approbation of the more important virtues,

he holds that there are other elements of personal merit which we

approve because they are “immediately agreeable,” either to the person

possessed of them or to others. It appears, however, more convenient

to use the word in the wider sense in which it has been current since

Bentham.

[324] Lecky, _Hist. of Eur. Mor._ chap. i, pp. 37, 40 _seqq_. (13th

impression).

[325] Book iii. chap. x.

[326] Book iii. chap. iv. § 1.

[327] It will be seen that I do not here assume in their full breadth

the conclusions of chap. xiv. of the preceding Book.

[328] Cf. J. Grote, _An Examination of the Utilitarian Philosophy_,

chap. v.

[329] Book iii. chap. iv. § 1.

[330] Strictly speaking, of course, the Law of modern states does not

enforce this, but only refuses to recognise connubial contracts of any

other kind: but the social effect is substantially the same.

[331] Sometimes such unbargained requital is even legally obligatory:

as when children are bound to repay the care spent on them by

supporting their parents in decrepitude.

[332] Further discussion of the method of dealing with these

difficulties, in their utilitarian form, will be found in the two

following chapters.

[333] _Utilitarianism_, chap. v.

[334] Cf. Book iii. chap. vi. §§ 2, 3.

[335] Cf. Book iii. chap. v.

[336] Book iii. chap. xiii. § 3.

[337] Cf. _ante_, p. 268 note.

[338] Book iii. chap. vi.

[339] Cf. _ante_, Book iii. chap. vi. § 8.

[340] In the case of force, however, there is the counterbalancing

consideration that the unlawful aggressor may be led to inflict worse

injury on his victim, if he is unable to rely on the latter’s promise.

[341] Cf. Book iii. chap. vi. § 8.

[342] Book iii. chap. v. § 4.

[343] In another work (_Principles of Political Economy_, Book iii.

chap. ii.) I have tried to show that complete _laisser faire_, in the

organisation of industry, tends in various ways to fall short of the

most economic production of wealth.

[344] The quotations are from my _Principles of Political Economy_,

Book iii. chap. ix.; where these questions are discussed at somewhat

greater length.

[345] Cf. _ante_, § 2, and Book iii. chap. ii. § 1.

[346] I have before observed that it is quite in harmony with

Utilitarian principles to recognise a sphere of private conduct within

which each individual may distribute his wealth and kind services as

unequally as he chooses, without incurring censure as unjust.

[347] It is obvious that so long as the social sanction is enforced,

the lives of the women against whom society thus issues its ban

must tend to be unhappy from disorder and shame, and the source of

unhappiness to others; and also that the breach by men of a recognised

and necessary moral rule must tend to have injurious effects on their

moral habits generally.

[348] _Active and Moral Powers_, Book ii. chap. iii.

[349] Among definite changes in the current morality of the Græco-Roman

civilised world, which are to be attributed mainly if not entirely to

the extension and intensification of sympathy due to Christianity,

the following may be especially noted: (1) the severe condemnation

and final suppression of the practice of exposing infants; (2)

effective abhorrence of the barbarism of gladiatorial combats; (3)

immediate moral mitigation of slavery, and a strong encouragement of

emancipation; (4) great extension of the eleemosynary provision made

for the sick and poor.

[350] This passage, which in the second and subsequent editions

occurred in chap. ii. of Book i., was omitted by Professor Sidgwick

from that chapter in the sixth edition, with the intention of

incorporating it in Book iv., which he did not live to revise.

CHAPTER IV

THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM

§ 1. If the view maintained in the preceding chapter as to the general

Utilitarian basis of the Morality of Common Sense may be regarded as

sufficiently established, we are now in a position to consider more

closely to what method of determining right conduct the acceptance

of Utilitarianism will practically lead. The most obvious method, of

course, is that of Empirical Hedonism, discussed in Book ii. chap.

iii.; according to which we have in each case to compare all the

pleasures and pains that can be foreseen as probable results of the

different alternatives of conduct presented to us, and to adopt the

alternative which seems likely to lead to the greatest happiness on the

whole.

In Book ii., however, it appeared that even the more restricted

application of this method, which we there had to consider, was

involved in much perplexity and uncertainty. Even when an individual is

only occupied in forecasting his own pleasures, it seems difficult or

impossible for him to avoid errors of considerable magnitude; whether

in accurately comparing the pleasantness of his own past feelings, as

represented in memory, or in appropriating the experience of others,

or in arguing from the past to the future. And these difficulties

are obviously much increased when we have to take into account all

the effects of our actions on all the sentient beings who may be

affected by them. At the same time, in Book ii. we could not find any

satisfactory substitute for this method of empirical comparison. It

did not appear reasonable to take refuge in the uncriticised beliefs

of men in general as to the sources of happiness: indeed, it seemed

impossible to extract any adequately clear and definite _consensus_

of opinion from the confused and varying utterances of Common Sense on

this subject. Nor again could it be shown that the individual would be

more likely to attain the greatest happiness open to him by practically

confining his efforts to the realisation of any scientifically

ascertainable physical or psychical conditions of happiness: nor did

it seem possible to infer on empirical grounds that the desired result

would be secured by conformity to the accepted principles of morality.

But when we consider these latter in relation, not to the happiness of

the individual, but to that of human (or sentient) beings generally,

it is clear from the preceding chapter that the question of harmony

between Hedonism and Intuitionism presents _prima facie_ an entirely

different aspect. Indeed from the considerations that we have just

surveyed it is but a short and easy step to the conclusion that in the

Morality of Common Sense we have ready to hand a body of Utilitarian

doctrine; that the “rules of morality for the multitude” are to be

regarded as “positive beliefs of mankind as to the effects of actions

on their happiness,”[351] so that the apparent first principles of

Common Sense may be accepted as the “middle axioms” of Utilitarian

method; direct reference being only made to utilitarian considerations,

in order to settle points upon which the verdict of Common Sense is

found to be obscure and conflicting. On this view the traditional

controversy between the advocates of Virtue and the advocates of

Happiness would seem to be at length harmoniously settled.

And the arguments for this view which have been already put forward

certainly receive support from the hypothesis, now widely accepted,

that the moral sentiments are ultimately derived, by a complex and

gradual process, from experiences of pleasure and pain. The hypothesis,

in a summary form, would seem to be this; (1) in the experience of

each member of the human community the pain or alarm caused to him by

actions of himself and of others tends by association to excite in

him a dislike of such actions, and a similar though feebler effect is

produced by his perception of pain or danger caused to others with

whom he is connected by blood, or by community of interest, or any

special tie of sympathy: (2) experience also tends more indirectly

to produce in him sentiments restraining him from actions painful or

alarming to others, through his dread of their resentment and its

consequences,--especially dread of his chief’s anger, and, where

religious influence has become strong, of the anger of supernatural

beings: (3) with these latter feelings blends a sympathetic aversion

to the pain of other men generally, which--at first comparatively

feeble--tends to grow in force as morality develops. In the same way

experiences of pleasure and gratitude, and desire of the goodwill of

others and its consequences, tend to produce liking for actions that

are perceived to cause pleasure to self or to others. The similar

aversions and likings that are thus produced in the majority of the

members of any society, through the general similarity of their natures

and conditions, tend to become more similar through communication

and imitation,--the desire of each to retain the goodwill of others

operating to repress individual divergencies. Thus common likings for

conduct that affects pleasurably the community generally or some part

of it, and common dislikes for conduct causing pain and alarm, come

to be gradually developed; they are transmitted from generation to

generation, partly perhaps by physical inheritance, but chiefly by

tradition from parents to children, and imitation of adults by the

young; in this way their origin becomes obscured, and they finally

appear as what are called the moral sentiments. This theory does not,

in my view, account adequately for the actual results of the faculty

of moral judgment and reasoning, so far as I can examine them by

reflection on my own moral consciousness: for this, as I have before

said, does not yield any apparent intuitions that stand the test of

rigorous examination except such as, from their abstract and general

character, have no cognisable relation to particular experiences of

any kind.[352] But that the theory gives a partially true explanation

of the historical origin of particular moral sentiments and habits and

commonly accepted rules, I see no reason to doubt; and thus regarded

it seems to supplement the arguments of the preceding chapter that

tend to exhibit the morality of common sense as unconsciously or

‘instinctively’ utilitarian.

But it is one thing to hold that the current morality expresses,

partly consciously but to a larger extent unconsciously, the results

of human experience as to the effects of actions: it is quite another

thing to accept this morality _en bloc_, so far as it is clear and

definite, as the best guidance we can get to the attainment of maximum

general happiness. However attractive this simple reconciliation

of Intuitional and Utilitarian methods may be, it is not, I think,

really warranted by the evidence. In the first place, I hold that in a

complete view of the development of the moral sense a more prominent

place should be given to the effect of sympathy with the impulses that

prompt to actions, as well as with the feelings that result from them.

It may be observed that Adam Smith[353] assigns to this operation

of sympathy,--the echo (as it were) of each agent’s passion in the

breast of unconcerned spectators,--the first place in determining our

approval and disapproval of actions[354]; sympathy with the effect of

conduct on others he treats as a merely secondary factor, correcting

and qualifying the former. Without going so far as this, I think that

there are certainly many cases where the resulting moral consciousness

would seem to indicate a balance or compromise between the two kinds of

sympathy; and the compromise may easily be many degrees removed from

the rule which Utilitarianism would prescribe. For though the passions

and other active impulses are doubtless themselves influenced, no

less than the moral sentiments, by experiences of pleasure and pain;

still this influence is not sufficient to make them at all trustworthy

guides to general, any more than to individual, happiness--as some

of our moral sentiments themselves emphatically announce. But even

if we consider our common moral sentiments as entirely due--directly

or indirectly--to the accumulated and transmitted experiences of

primary and sympathetic pains and pleasures; it is obvious that the

degree of accuracy with which sentiments thus produced will guide us

to the promotion of general happiness must largely depend upon the

degree of accuracy with which the whole sum of pleasurable and painful

consequences, resulting from any course of action, has been represented

in the consciousness of an average member of the community. And it is

seen at a glance that this representation has always been liable to

errors of great magnitude, from causes that were partly noticed in the

previous chapter, when we were considering the progress of morality. We

have to allow, first, for limitation of sympathy; since in every age

and country the sympathy of an average man with other sentient beings,

and even his egoistic regard for their likings and aversions, has been

much more limited than the influence of his actions on the feelings of

others. We must allow further for limitation of intelligence: for in

all ages ordinary men have had a very inadequate knowledge of natural

sequences; so that such indirect consequences of conduct as have been

felt have been frequently traced to wrong causes, and been met by wrong

moral remedies, owing to imperfect apprehension of the relation of

means to ends. Again, where the habit of obedience to authority and

respect for rank has become strong, we must allow for the possibly

perverting influence of a desire to win the favour or avert the anger

of superiors. And similarly we must allow again for the influences of

false religions; and also for the possibility that the sensibilities of

religious teachers have influenced the code of duty accepted by their

followers, in points where these sensibilities were not normal and

representative, but exceptional and idiosyncratic.[355]

On the other hand, we must suppose that these deflecting influences

have been more or less limited and counteracted by the struggle for

existence in past ages among different human races and communities;

since, so far as any moral habit or sentiment was unfavourable to the

preservation of the social organism, it would be a disadvantage in

the struggle for existence, and would therefore tend to perish with

the community that adhered to it. But we have no reason to suppose

that this force would be adequate to keep positive morality always

in conformity with a Utilitarian ideal. For (1) imperfect morality

would be only one disadvantage among many, and not, I conceive, the

most important, unless the imperfection were extreme,--especially

in the earlier stages of social and moral development, in which the

struggle for existence was most operative: and (2) a morality perfectly

preservative of a human community might still be imperfectly felicific,

and so require considerable improvement from a Utilitarian point of

view.[356] Further, analogy would lead us to expect that however

completely adapted the moral instincts of a community may be at some

particular time to its conditions of existence, any rapid change of

circumstances would tend to derange the adaptation, from survival of

instincts formerly useful, which through this change become useless or

pernicious. And indeed, apart from any apparent changes in external

circumstances, it might result from the operation of some law of human

development, that the most completely organised experience of human

happiness in the past would guide us but imperfectly to the right

means of making it a maximum in the future. For example, a slight

decrease in the average strength of some common impulse might render

the traditional rules and sentiments, that regulate this impulse,

infelicific on the whole. And if, when we turn from these abstract

considerations to history, and examine the actual morality of other

ages and countries, we undoubtedly find that, considered as an

instrument for producing general happiness, it continually seems to

exhibit palpable imperfections,--there is surely a strong presumption

that there are similar imperfections to be discovered in our own moral

code, though habit and familiarity prevent them from being obvious.

Finally, we must not overlook the fact that the divergences which we

find when we compare the moralities of different ages and countries,

exist to some extent side by side in the morality of any one society at

any given time. It has already been observed that whenever divergent

opinions are entertained by a minority so large, that we cannot fairly

regard the dogma of the majority as the plain utterance of Common

Sense, an appeal is necessarily made to some higher principle, and

very commonly to Utilitarianism. But a smaller minority than this,

particularly if composed of persons of enlightenment and special

acquaintance with the effects of the conduct judged, may reasonably

inspire us with distrust of Common Sense: just as in the more technical

parts of practice we prefer the judgment of a few trained experts

to the instincts of the vulgar. Yet again, a contemplation of these

divergent codes and their relation to the different circumstances in

which men live, suggests that Common-Sense morality is really only

adapted for ordinary men in ordinary circumstances--although it may

still be expedient that these ordinary persons should regard it as

absolutely and universally prescribed, since any other view of it may

dangerously weaken its hold over their minds. So far as this is the

case we must use the Utilitarian method to ascertain how far persons

in special circumstances require a morality more specially adapted to

them than Common Sense is willing to concede: and also how far men of

peculiar physical or mental constitution ought to be exempted from

ordinary rules, as has sometimes been claimed for men of genius, or

men of intensely emotional nature, or men gifted with more than usual

prudence and self-control.

Further, it is important to notice, that besides the large amount

of divergence that exists between the moral instincts of different

classes and individuals, there is often a palpable discrepancy

between the moral instincts of any class or individual, and such

Utilitarian reasonings as their untrained intellects are in the

habit of conducting. There are many things in conduct which many

people think right but not expedient, or at least which they would

not think expedient if they had not first judged them to be right;

in so far as they reason from experience only, their conclusions as

to what conduces to the general happiness are opposed to their moral

intuitions. It may be said that this results generally from a hasty and

superficial consideration of expediency; and that the discrepancy would

disappear after a deeper and completer examination of the consequences

of actions. And I do not deny that this would often turn out to be the

case: but as we cannot tell _a priori_ how far it would be so, this

only constitutes a further argument for a comprehensive and systematic

application of a purely Utilitarian method.

We must conclude, then, that we cannot take the moral rules of Common

Sense as expressing the _consensus_ of competent judges, up to the

present time, as to the kind of conduct which is likely to produce

the greatest amount of happiness on the whole. It would rather seem

that it is the unavoidable duty of a systematic Utilitarianism to make

a thorough revision of these rules, in order to ascertain how far

the causes previously enumerated (and perhaps others) have actually

operated to produce a divergence between Common Sense and a perfectly

Utilitarian code of morality.

§ 2. But in thus stating the problem we are assuming that the latter

term of this comparison can be satisfactorily defined and sufficiently

developed; that we can frame with adequate precision a system of rules,

constituting the true moral code for human beings as deduced from

Utilitarian principles. And this seems to have been commonly assumed

by the school whose method we are now examining. But when we set

ourselves in earnest to the construction of such a system, we find it

beset with serious difficulties. For, passing over the uncertainties

involved in hedonistic comparison generally, let us suppose that

the _quantum_ of happiness that will result from the establishment

of any plan of behaviour among human beings can be ascertained with

sufficient exactness for practical purposes--even when the plan is as

yet constructed in imagination alone. It still has to be asked, What

is the nature of the human being for whom we are to construct this

hypothetical scheme of conduct? For humanity is not something that

exhibits the same properties always and everywhere: whether we consider

the intellect of man or his feelings, or his physical condition and

circumstances, we find them so different in different ages and

countries, that it seems _prima facie_ absurd to lay down a set of

ideal Utilitarian rules for mankind generally. It may be said that

these differences after all relate chiefly to details; and that there

is in any case sufficient uniformity in the nature and circumstances of

human life always and everywhere to render possible an outline scheme

of ideal behaviour for mankind at large. But it must be answered, that

it is with details that we are now principally concerned; for the

previous discussion has sufficiently shown that the conduct approved by

Common Sense has a _general_ resemblance to that which Utilitarianism

would prescribe; but we wish to ascertain more exactly how far the

resemblance extends, and with what delicacy and precision the current

moral rules are adapted to the actual needs and conditions of human

life.

Suppose, then, that we contract the scope of investigation, and only

endeavour to ascertain the rules appropriate to men as we know them,

in our own age and country. We are immediately met with a dilemma:

the men whom we know are beings who accept more or less definitely a

certain moral code: if we take them as they are in this respect, we can

hardly at the same time conceive them as beings for whom a code is yet

to be constructed _de novo_: if, on the other hand, we take an actual

man--let us say, an average Englishman--and abstract his morality,

what remains is an entity so purely hypothetical, that it is not clear

what practical purpose can be served by constructing a system of moral

rules for the community of such beings. Could we indeed assume that

the scientific deduction of such a system would ensure its general

acceptance; could we reasonably expect to convert all mankind at once

to Utilitarian principles, or even all educated and reflective mankind,

so that all preachers and teachers should take universal happiness as

the goal of their efforts as unquestioningly as physicians take the

health of the individual body; and could we be sure that men’s moral

habits and sentiments would adjust themselves at once and without

any waste of force to these changed rules:--then perhaps in framing

the Utilitarian code we might fairly leave existing morality out of

account. But I cannot think that we are warranted in making these

suppositions; I think we have to take the moral habits, impulses, and

tastes of men as a material given us to work upon no less than the rest

of their nature, and as something which, as it only partly results

from reasoning in the past, so can only be partially modified by any

reasoning which we can now apply to it. It seems therefore clear that

the solution of the hypothetical Utilitarian problem of constructing an

ideal morality for men conceived to be in other respects as experience

shows them to be, but with their actual morality abstracted, will not

give us the result which we practically require.

It will perhaps be said, “No doubt such an ideal Utilitarian morality

can only be gradually, and perhaps after all imperfectly, introduced;

but still it will be useful to work it out as a pattern to which

we may approximate.” But, in the first place, it may not be really

possible to approximate to it: since any particular existing moral

rule, though not the ideally best even for such beings as existing

men under the existing circumstances, may yet be the best that they

can be got to obey: so that it would be futile to propose any other,

or even harmful, as it might tend to impair old moral habits without

effectively replacing them by new ones. And secondly, the endeavour

gradually to approximate to a morality constructed on the supposition

that the non-moral part of existing human nature remains unchanged, may

lead us wrong: because the state of men’s knowledge and intellectual

faculties, and the range of their sympathies, and the direction and

strength of their prevailing impulses, and their relations to the

external world and to each other, are continually being altered,

and such alteration is to some extent under our control and may be

felicific in a high degree: and any material modifications in important

elements and conditions of human life may require corresponding

changes in established moral rules and sentiments, in order that the

greatest possible happiness may be attained by the human being whose

life is thus modified. In short, the construction of a Utilitarian

code, regarded as an ideal towards which we are to progress, is met by

a second dilemma:--The nature of man and the conditions of his life

cannot usefully be assumed to be constant, unless we are confining our

attention to the present or proximate future; while again, if we are

considering them in the present or proximate future, we must take into

account men’s actual moral habits and sentiments, as a part of their

nature not materially more modifiable than the rest.

Nor, again, can I agree with Mr. Spencer[357] in thinking that it is

possible to solve the problems of practical ethics by constructing

the final perfect form of society, towards which the process of human

history is tending; and determining the rules of mutual behaviour which

ought to be, and will be, observed by the members of this perfect

society. For, firstly, granting that we can conceive as possible a

human community which is from a utilitarian point of view perfect; and

granting also Mr. Spencer’s definition of this perfection--viz. that

the voluntary actions of all the members cause “pleasure unalloyed

by pain anywhere” to all who are affected by them[358]--; it still

seems to me quite impossible to forecast the natures and relations

of the persons composing such a community, with sufficient clearness

and certainty to enable us to define even in outline their moral

code. And secondly, even if it were otherwise, even if we could

construct scientifically Mr. Spencer’s ideal morality, I do not think

such a construction would be of much avail in solving the practical

problems of actual humanity. For a society in which--to take one point

only--there is no such thing as punishment, is necessarily a society

with its essential structure so unlike our own, that it would be idle

to attempt any close imitation of its rules of behaviour. It might

possibly be best for us to conform approximately to some of these

rules; but this we could only know by examining each particular rule

in detail; we could have no general grounds for concluding that it

would be best for us to conform to them as far as possible. For even

supposing that this ideal society is ultimately to be realised, it

must at any rate be separated from us by a considerable interval of

evolution; hence it is not unlikely that the best way of progressing

towards it will be some other than the apparently directest way, and

that we shall reach it more easily if we begin by moving away from it.

Whether this is so or not, and to what extent, can only be known by

carefully examining the effects of conduct on actual human beings, and

inferring its probable effects on the human beings whom we may expect

to exist in the proximate future.

§ 3. Other thinkers of the evolutionist school suggest that the

difficulties of Utilitarian method might be avoided, in a way more

simple than Mr. Spencer’s, by adopting, as the _practically_ ultimate

end and criterion of morality, “health” or “efficiency” of the social

organism, instead of happiness. This view is maintained, for instance,

in Mr. Leslie Stephen’s _Science of Ethics_;[359] and deserves careful

examination. As I understand Mr. Stephen, he means by “health” that

state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under the

conditions of its existence, as they are known or capable of being

predicted; and he means the same by “efficiency”;--since the work for

which, in his view, the social organism has to be “efficient” is simply

the work of living, the function of “going on.” I say this because

“efficiency” might be understood to imply some ‘task of humanity’

which the social organism has to execute, beyond the task of merely

living; and similarly “health” might be taken to mean a state tending

to the preservation not of existence merely, but of _desirable_

existence--desirability being interpreted in some non-hedonistic

manner: and in this case an examination of either term would lead us

again over the ground traversed in the discussion on Ultimate Good (in

chap. xiv. of the preceding Book).[360] But I do not understand that

any such implications were in Mr. Stephen’s mind; and they certainly

would not be in harmony with the general drift of his argument. The

question, therefore, is whether, if General Happiness be admitted to

be the really ultimate end in a system of morality, it is nevertheless

reasonable to take Preservation of the social organism as the

practically ultimate “scientific criterion” of moral rules.

My reasons for answering this question in the negative are two-fold.

In the first place I know no adequate grounds for supposing that if we

aim exclusively at the preservation of the social organism we shall

secure the maximum attainable happiness of its individual members:

indeed, so far as I know, of two social states which equally tend

to be preserved one may be indefinitely happier than the other. As

has been before observed[361] a large part of the pleasures which

cultivated persons value most highly--æsthetic pleasures--are derived

from acts and processes that have no material tendency to preserve

the individual’s life:[362] and the statement remains true if we

substitute the social organism for the individual. And I may add that

much refined morality is concerned with the prevention of pains which

have no demonstrable tendency to the destruction of the individual

or of society. Hence, while I quite admit that the maintenance of

preservative habits and sentiments is the most indispensable function

of utilitarian morality--and perhaps almost its sole function in

the earlier stages of moral development, when to live at all was

a difficult task for human communities--I do not therefore think

it reasonable that we should be content with the mere securing of

existence for humanity generally, and should confine our efforts to

promoting the increase of this security, instead of seeking to make the

secured existence more desirable.

But, secondly, I do not see on what grounds Mr. Stephen holds that the

criterion of ‘tendency to the preservation of the social organism’

is necessarily capable of being applied with greater precision than

that of ‘tendency to general happiness,’ even so far as the two

ends are coincident: and that the former “satisfies the conditions

of a scientific criterion.” I should admit that this would probably

be the case, if the Sociology that we know were a science actually

constructed, and not merely the sketch of a possible future science:

but Mr. Stephen has himself told us that sociology at present “consists

of nothing more than a collection of unverified guesses and vague

generalisations, disguised under a more or less pretentious apparatus

of quasi-scientific terminology.” This language is stronger than I

should have ventured to use; but I agree generally with the view that

it expresses; and it appears to me difficult for a writer who holds

this view to maintain that the conception of “social health,” regarded

as a criterion and standard of right conduct, is in any important

degree more “scientific” than the conception of “general happiness.”

Holding this estimate of the present condition of Sociology, I consider

that, from the utilitarian point of view, there are equally decisive

reasons against the adoption of any such notion as “development” of

the social organism--instead of mere preservation--as the practically

ultimate end and criterion of morality. On the one hand, if by

“development” is meant an increase in “efficiency” or preservative

qualities, this notion is only an optimistic specialisation of that

just discussed (involving the--I fear--unwarranted assumption that the

social organism tends to become continually more efficient); so that

no fresh arguments need be urged against it. If, however, something

different is meant by development--as (_e.g._) a disciple of Mr.

Spencer might mean an increase in “definite coherent heterogeneity,”

whether or not such increase was preservative--then I know no

scientific grounds for concluding that we shall best promote general

happiness by concentrating our efforts on the attainment of this

increase. I do not affirm it to be impossible that every increase in

the definite coherent heterogeneity of a society of human beings may

be accompanied or followed by an increase in the aggregate happiness

of the members of the society: but I do not perceive that Mr. Spencer,

or any one else, has even attempted to furnish the kind of proof which

this proposition requires.[363]

To sum up: I hold that the utilitarian, in the existing state of our

knowledge, cannot possibly construct a morality _de novo_ either for

man as he is (abstracting his morality), or for man as he ought to

be and will be. He must start, speaking broadly, with the existing

social order, and the existing morality as a part of that order: and in

deciding the question whether any divergence from this code is to be

recommended, must consider chiefly the immediate consequences of such

divergence, upon a society in which such a code is conceived generally

to subsist. No doubt a thoughtful and well-instructed Utilitarian

may see dimly a certain way ahead, and his attitude towards existing

morality may be to some extent modified by what he sees. He may discern

in the future certain evils impending, which can only be effectually

warded off by the adoption of new and more stringent views of duty in

certain departments: while, on the other hand, he may see a prospect

of social changes which will render a relaxation of other parts of the

moral code expedient or inevitable. But if he keeps within the limits

that separate scientific prevision from fanciful Utopian conjecture,

the form of society to which his practical conclusions relate will be

one varying but little from the actual, with its actually established

code of moral rules and customary judgments concerning virtue and vice.

FOOTNOTES:

[351] Cf. J. S. Mill, _Utilitarianism_, chap. ii. Mill, however, only

affirms that the “rules of morality for the multitude” are to be

accepted by the philosopher provisionally, until he has got something

better.

[352] I refer to the abstract principles of Prudence, Justice, and

Rational Benevolence as defined in chap. xiii. of the preceding Book.

[353] _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, Book i.

[354] This operation of sympathy is strikingly illustrated in the penal

codes of primitive communities, both by the mildness of the punishments

inflicted for homicide, and by the startling differences between the

penalties allotted to the same crime according as the criminal was

taken in the act or not. “It is curious to observe,” says Sir H. Maine

(_Ancient Law_, chap. x.), “how completely the men of primitive times

were persuaded that the impulses of the injured person were the proper

measure of the vengeance he was entitled to exact, and how literally

they imitated the probable rise and fall of his passions in fixing the

scale of punishment.” And even in more civilised societies there is a

very common feeling of uncertainty as to the propriety of inflicting

punishment for crimes committed long ago, which seems traceable to the

same source.

[355] No doubt this influence is confined within strict limits:

no authority can permanently impose on men regulations flagrantly

infelicific: and the most practically originative of religious teachers

have produced their effect chiefly by giving new force and vividness to

sentiments already existing (and recognised as properly authoritive) in

the society upon which they acted. Still, it might have made a great

difference to the human race if (_e.g._) Mohammed had been fond of

wine, and indifferent to women.

[356] On this point I shall have occasion to speak further in the next

section.

[357] I refer especially to the views put forward by Mr. Spencer in the

concluding chapters of his _Data of Ethics_.

[358] This definition, however, does not seem to me admissible, from

a utilitarian point of view: since a society in this sense perfect

might not realise the maximum of possible happiness; it might still be

capable of a material increase of happiness through pleasures involving

a slight alloy of pain, such as Mr. Spencer’s view of perfection would

exclude.

[359] See especially chap. ix. Pars. 12-15.

[360] It is obvious that if ‘desirability,’ in the above definition,

were interpreted hedonistically, the term “health” would merely give us

a new name for the general problem of utilitarian morality; not a new

suggestion for its solution. I ought to say that the notions of “social

welfare” or “wellbeing” are elsewhere used by Mr. Stephen, in the place

of those here quoted, but I do not think that he means by them any more

than what I understand him to mean by “health” or “efficiency”--_i.e._

that state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under

the conditions of its existence.

[361] Book ii. chap. vi. § 3.

[362] I do not mean to assert that ‘play’ in some form is not necessary

for physical health: but there is a long step from the encouragement of

play, so far as salutary, to the promotion of social culture.

[363] It may be observed that the increased heterogeneity which the

development of modern industry has brought with it, in the form of a

specialisation of industrial functions which tends to render the lives

of individual workers narrow and monotonous, has usually been regarded

by philanthropists as seriously infelicific; and as needing to be

counteracted by a general diffusion of the intellectual culture now

enjoyed by the few--which, if realised, would tend _pro tanto_ to make

the lives of different classes in the community _less_ heterogeneous.

CHAPTER V

THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM--_Continued_

§ 1. If, then, we are to regard the morality of Common Sense as a

machinery of rules, habits, and sentiments, roughly and generally but

not precisely or completely adapted to the production of the greatest

possible happiness for sentient beings generally; and if, on the other

hand, we have to accept it as the actually established machinery for

attaining this end, which we cannot replace at once by any other, but

can only gradually modify; it remains to consider the practical effects

of the complex and balanced relation in which a scientific Utilitarian

thus seems to stand to the Positive Morality of his age and country.

Generally speaking, he will clearly conform to it, and endeavour

to promote its development in others. For, though the imperfection

that we find in all the actual conditions of human existence--we may

even say in the universe at large as judged from a human point of

view--is ultimately found even in Morality itself, in so far as this

is contemplated as Positive; still, practically, we are much less

concerned with correcting and improving than we are with realising and

enforcing it. The Utilitarian must repudiate altogether that temper

of rebellion against the established morality, as something purely

external and conventional, into which the reflective mind is always

apt to fall when it is first convinced that the established rules

are not intrinsically reasonable. He must, of course, also repudiate

as superstitious that awe of it as an absolute or Divine Code which

Intuitional moralists inculcate.[364] Still, he will naturally

contemplate it with reverence and wonder, as a marvellous product of

nature, the result of long centuries of growth, showing in many parts

the same fine adaptation of means to complex exigencies as the most

elaborate structures of physical organisms exhibit: he will handle

it with respectful delicacy as a mechanism, constructed of the fluid

element of opinions and dispositions, by the indispensable aid of which

the actual _quantum_ of human happiness is continually being produced;

a mechanism which no ‘politicians or philosophers’ could create, yet

without which the harder and coarser machinery of Positive Law could

not be permanently maintained, and the life of man would become--as

Hobbes forcibly expresses it--“solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and

short.”

Still, as this actual moral order is admittedly imperfect, it will

be the Utilitarian’s duty to aid in improving it; just as the most

orderly, law-abiding member of a modern civilised society includes

the reform of laws in his conception of political duty. We have

therefore to consider by what method he will ascertain the particular

modifications of positive morality which it would be practically

expedient to attempt to introduce, at any given time and place. Here

our investigation seems, after all, to leave Empirical Hedonism as

the only method ordinarily applicable for the ultimate decision of

such problems--at least until the science of Sociology shall have been

really constructed. I do not mean that the rudiments of Sociological

knowledge which we now possess are of no practical value: for certainly

changes in morality might be suggested--and have actually been proposed

by persons seriously concerned to benefit their fellow-creatures--which

even our present imperfect knowledge would lead us to regard as

dangerous to the very existence of the social organism. But such

changes for the most part involve changes in positive law as well:

since most of the rules of which the observance is fundamentally

important for the preservation of an organised community are either

directly or indirectly maintained by legal sanctions: and it would

be going too far beyond the line which, in my view, separates ethics

from politics, to discuss changes of this kind in the present book.

The rules with which we have primarily to deal, in considering the

utilitarian method of determining private duty, are rules supported by

merely moral sanctions; and the question of maintaining or modifying

such rules concerns, for the most part, the well-being rather than the

very existence of human society. The consideration of this question,

therefore, from a utilitarian point of view, resolves itself into a

comparison between the total amounts of pleasure and pain that may

be expected to result respectively from maintaining any given rule

as at present established, and from endeavouring to introduce that

which is proposed in its stead. That this comparison must generally

be of a rough and uncertain kind, we have already seen; and it is

highly important to bear this in mind; but yet we seem unable to

find any substitute for it. It is not meant, of course, that each

individual is left to his own unassisted judgment in dealing with

such questions: there is a mass of traditional experience, which each

individual imbibes orally or from books, as to the effects of conduct

upon happiness; but the great formulæ in which this experience is

transmitted are, for the most part, so indefinite, the proper range

of their application so uncertain, and the observation and induction

on which they are founded so uncritical, that they stand in continual

need of further empirical verification; especially as regards their

applicability to any particular case.

It is perhaps not surprising that some thinkers[365] of the Utilitarian

school should consider that the task of hedonistic calculation which

is thus set before the utilitarian moralist is too extensive: and

should propose to simplify it by marking off a “large sphere of

individual option and self-guidance,” to which “ethical dictation”

does not apply. I should quite admit that it is clearly expedient to

draw a dividing line of this kind: but it appears to me that there

is no simple general method of drawing it; that it can only be drawn

by careful utilitarian calculation applied with varying results to

the various relations and circumstances of human life. To attempt the

required division by means of any such general formula as that ‘the

individual is not responsible to society for that part of his conduct

which concerns himself alone and others only with their free and

undeceived consent’[366] seems to me practically futile: since, owing

to the complex enlacements of interest and sympathy that connect the

members of a civilised community, almost any material loss of happiness

by any one individual is likely to affect some others without their

consent to some not inconsiderable extent. And I do not see how it is

from a utilitarian point of view justifiable to say broadly with J.

S. Mill that such secondary injury to others, if merely “constructive

or presumptive,” is to be disregarded in view of the advantages of

allowing free development to individuality; for if the injury feared is

great, and the presumption that it will occur is shown by experience

to be strong, the definite risk of evil from the withdrawal of the

moral sanction must, I conceive, outweigh the indefinite possibility

of loss through the repression of individuality in one particular

direction.[367] But further: even supposing that we could mark off

the “sphere of individual option and self-guidance” by some simple

and sweeping formula, still within this sphere the individual, if he

wishes to guide himself reasonably on utilitarian principles, must take

some account of all important effects of his actions on the happiness

of others; and if he does this methodically, he must, I conceive,

use the empirical method which we have examined in Book ii. And--to

prevent any undue alarm at this prospect--we may observe that every

sensible man is commonly supposed to determine at least a large part

of his conduct by what is substantially this method; it is assumed

that, within the limits which morality lays down, he will try to get

as much happiness as he can for himself and for other human beings,

according to the relations in which they stand to him, by combining in

some way his own experience with that of other men as to the felicific

and infelicific effects of actions. And it is actually in this way that

each man usually deliberates (_e.g._) what profession to choose for

himself, or what mode of education for his children, whether to aim

at marriage or remain single, whether to settle in town or country,

in England or abroad, etc. No doubt there are, as we saw,[368] other

ends besides Happiness, such as Knowledge, Beauty, etc., commonly

recognised as unquestionably desirable, and therefore largely pursued

without consideration of ulterior consequences: but when the pursuit of

any of these ends involves an apparent sacrifice of happiness in other

ways, the practical question whether under these circumstances such

pursuit ought to be maintained or abandoned seems always decided by an

application, however rough, of the method of pure empirical Hedonism.

And in saying that this must be the method of the Utilitarian moralist,

I only mean that no other can normally be applied in reducing to a

common measure the diverse elements of the problems with which he

has to deal. Of course, in determining the nature and importance

of each of these diverse considerations, the utilitarian art of

morality will lay various sciences under contribution. Thus, for

example, it will learn from Political Economy what effects a general

censure of usurers, or the ordinary commendation of liberality in

almsgiving, is likely to have on the wealth of the community; it will

learn from the physiologist the probable consequences to health of a

general abstinence from alcoholic liquors or any other restraint on

appetite proposed in the name of Temperance; it will learn from the

experts in any science how far knowledge is likely to be promoted by

investigations offensive to any prevalent moral or religious sentiment.

But how far the increase of wealth or of knowledge, or even the

improvement of health, should under any circumstances be subordinated

to other considerations, I know no scientific method of determining

other than that of empirical Hedonism. Nor, as I have said, does it

seem to me that any other method has ever been applied or sought by the

common sense of mankind, for regulating the pursuit of what our older

moralists called ‘Natural Good,’--_i.e._ of all that is intrinsically

desirable _except_ Virtue or Morality, within the limits fixed by the

latter; the Utilitarian here only performs somewhat more consistently

and systematically than ordinary men the reasoning processes which

are commonly admitted to be appropriate to the questions that this

pursuit raises. His distinctive characteristic, as a Utilitarian, is

that he has to apply the same method to the criticism and correction of

the limiting morality itself. The particulars of this criticism will

obviously vary almost indefinitely with the variations in human nature

and circumstances: I here only propose to discuss the general points of

view which a Utilitarian critic must take, in order that no important

class of relevant considerations may be omitted.

§ 2. Let us first recall the distinction previously noticed[369]

between duty as commonly conceived,--that to which a man is bound

or obliged--, and praiseworthy or excellent conduct; since, in

considering the relation of Utilitarianism to the moral judgments

of Common Sense, it will be convenient to begin with the former

element of current morality, as the more important and indispensable;

_i.e._ with the _ensemble_ of rules imposed by common opinion in any

society, which form a kind of unwritten legislation, supplementary

to Law proper, and enforced by the penalties of social disfavour and

contempt. This legislation, as it does not emanate from a definite

body of persons acting in a corporate capacity, cannot be altered

by any formal deliberations and resolutions of the persons on whose

_consensus_ it rests; any change in it must therefore result from

the private action of individuals, whether determined by Utilitarian

considerations or otherwise. As we shall presently see, the practical

Utilitarian problem is liable to be complicated by the conflict and

divergence which is found to some extent in all societies between the

moral opinions of different sections of the community: but it will

be convenient to confine our attention in the first instance to the

case of rules of duty clearly supported by ‘common consent.’ Let us

suppose then that after considering the consequences of any such rule,

a Utilitarian comes to the conclusion that a different rule would be

more conducive to the general happiness, if similarly established in

a society remaining in other respects the same as at present--or in

one slightly different (in so far as our forecast of social changes

can be made sufficiently clear to furnish any basis for practice). And

first we will suppose that this new rule differs from the old one not

only positively but negatively; that it does not merely go beyond and

include it, but actually conflicts with it. Before he can decide that

it is right for him (_i.e._ conducive to the general happiness) to

support the new rule against the old, by example and precept, he ought

to estimate the force of certain disadvantages necessarily attendant

upon such innovations, which may conveniently be arranged under the

following heads.

In the first place, as his own happiness and that of others connected

with him form a part of the universal end at which he aims, he must

consider the importance to himself and them of the penalties of social

disapprobation which he will incur: taking into account, besides

the immediate pain of this disapprobation, its indirect effect in

diminishing his power of serving society and promoting the general

happiness in other ways. The prospect of such pain and loss is, of

course, not decisive against the innovation; since it must to some

extent be regarded as the regular price that has to be paid for the

advantage of this kind of reform in current morality. But here, as in

many Utilitarian calculations, everything depends on the quantity of

the effects produced; which in the case supposed may vary very much,

from slight distrust and disfavour to severe condemnation and social

exclusion. It often seems that by attempting change prematurely an

innovator may incur the severest form of the moral penalty, whereas if

he had waited a few years he would have been let off with the mildest.

For the hold which a moral rule has over the general mind commonly

begins to decay from the time that it is seen to be opposed to the

calculations of expediency: and it may be better for the community as

well as for the individual that it should not be openly attacked, until

this process of decay has reached a certain point.

It is, however, of more importance to point out certain general reasons

for doubting whether an apparent improvement will really have a

beneficial effect on others. It is possible that the new rule, though

it would be more felicific than the old one, if it could get itself

equally established, may be not so likely to be adopted, or if adopted,

not so likely to be obeyed, by the mass of the community in which it is

proposed to innovate. It may be too subtle and refined, or too complex

and elaborate: it may require a greater intellectual development, or

a higher degree of self-control, than is to be found in an average

member of the community, or an exceptional quality or balance of

feelings. Nor can it be said in reply, that by the hypothesis the

innovator’s example must be good to whatever extent it operates, since

_pro tanto_ it tends to substitute a better rule for a worse. For

experience seems to show that an example of this kind is more likely

to be potent negatively than positively; that here, as elsewhere in

human affairs, it is easier to pull down than to build up; easier to

weaken or destroy the restraining force that a moral rule, habitually

and generally obeyed, has over men’s minds, than to substitute for it a

new restraining habit, not similarly sustained by tradition and custom.

Hence the effect of an example intrinsically good may be on the whole

bad, because its destructive operation proves to be more vigorous than

its constructive. And again, such destructive effect must be considered

not only in respect of the particular rule violated, but of all other

rules. For just as the breaking of any positive law has an inevitable

tendency to encourage lawlessness generally, so the violation of any

generally recognised moral rule seems to give a certain aid to the

forces that are always tending towards moral anarchy in any society.

Nor must we neglect the reaction which any breach with customary

morality will have on the agent’s own mind. For the regulative habits

and sentiments which each man has received by inheritance or training

constitute an important force impelling his will, in the main, to

conduct such as his reason would dictate; a natural auxiliary, as it

were, to Reason in its conflict with seductive passions and appetites;

and it may be practically dangerous to impair the strength of these

auxiliaries. On the other hand, it would seem that the habit of acting

rationally is the best of all habits, and that it ought to be the aim

of a reasonable being to bring all his impulses and sentiments into

more and more perfect harmony with Reason. And indeed when a man has

earnestly accepted any moral principle, those of his pre-existing

regulative habits and sentiments that are not in harmony with this

principle tend naturally to decay and disappear; and it would perhaps

be scarcely worth while to take them into account, except for the

support that they derive from the sympathy of others.

But this last is a consideration of great importance. For the moral

impulses of each individual commonly draw a large part of their

effective force from the sympathy of other human beings. I do

not merely mean that the pleasures and pains which each derives

sympathetically from the moral likings and aversions of others are

important as motives to felicific conduct no less than as elements of

the individual’s happiness: I mean further that the direct sympathetic

echo in each man of the judgments and sentiments of others concerning

conduct sustains his own similar judgments and sentiments. Through this

twofold operation of sympathy it becomes practically much easier for

most men to conform to a moral rule established in the society to which

they belong than to one made by themselves. And any act by which a man

weakens the effect on himself of this general moral sympathy tends _pro

tanto_ to make the performance of duty more difficult for him. On the

other hand, we have to take into account--besides the intrinsic gain

of the particular change--the general advantage of offering to mankind

a striking example of consistent Utilitarianism; since, in this case

as in others, a man gives a stronger proof of genuine conviction by

conduct in opposition to public opinion than he can by conformity.

In order, however, that this effect may be produced, it is almost

necessary that the non-conformity should not promote the innovator’s

personal convenience; for in that case it will almost certainly be

attributed to egoistic motives, however plausible the Utilitarian

deduction of its rightness may seem.

The exact force of these various considerations will differ

indefinitely in different cases; and it does not seem profitable to

attempt any general estimate of them: but on the whole, it would

seem that the general arguments which we have noticed constitute

an important rational check upon such Utilitarian innovations on

Common-Sense morality as are of the negative or destructive kind.

If now we consider such innovations as are merely positive and

supplementary, and consist in adding a new rule to those already

established by Common Sense; it will appear that there is really no

collision of methods, so far as the Utilitarian’s own observance of

the new rule is concerned. For, as every such rule is, _ex hypothesi_,

believed by him to be conducive to the common good, he is merely giving

a special and stricter interpretation to the general duty of Universal

Benevolence, where Common Sense leaves it loose and indeterminate.

Hence the restraining considerations above enumerated do not apply

to this case. And whatever it is right for him to do himself, it is

obviously right for him to approve and recommend to other persons in

similar circumstances. But it is a different question whether he ought

to seek to impose his new rule on others, by express condemnation of

all who are not prepared to adopt it; as this involves not only the

immediate evil of the annoyance given to others, but also the further

danger of weakening the general good effect of his moral example,

through the reaction provoked by this aggressive attitude. On this

point his decision will largely depend on the prospect, as far as

he can estimate it, that his innovation will meet with support and

sympathy from others.

It should be observed, however, that a great part of the reform in

popular morality, which a consistent Utilitarian will try to introduce,

will probably lie not so much in establishing new rules (whether

conflicting with the old or merely supplementary) as in enforcing

old ones. For there is always a considerable part of morality in the

condition of receiving formal respect and acceptance, while yet it is

not really sustained by any effective force of public opinion: and the

difference between the moralities of any two societies is often more

strikingly exhibited in the different emphasis attached to various

portions of the moral code in each, than in disagreement as to the

rules which the code should include. In the case we are considering,

it is chiefly conduct which shows a want of comprehensive sympathy or

of public spirit, to which the Utilitarian will desire to attach a

severer condemnation than is at present directed against it. There is

much conduct of this sort, of which the immediate effect is to give

obvious pleasure to individuals, while the far greater amount of harm

that it more remotely and indirectly causes is but dimly recognised by

Common Sense. Such conduct, therefore, even when it is allowed to be

wrong, is very mildly treated by common opinion; especially when it is

prompted by some impulse not self-regarding. Still, in all such cases,

we do not require the promulgation of any new moral doctrine, but

merely a bracing and sharpening of the moral sentiments of society, to

bring them into harmony with the greater comprehensiveness of view and

the more impartial concern for human happiness which characterise the

Utilitarian system.

§ 3. We have hitherto supposed that the innovator is endeavouring

to introduce a new rule of conduct, not for himself only, but for

others also, as more conducive to the general happiness than the

rule recognised by Common Sense. It may perhaps be thought that this

is not the issue most commonly raised between Utilitarianism and

Common Sense: but rather whether exceptions should be allowed to

rules which both sides accept as generally valid. For no one doubts

that it is, _generally speaking_, conducive to the common happiness

that men should be veracious, faithful to promises, obedient to

law, disposed to satisfy the normal expectations of others, having

their malevolent impulses and their sensual appetites under strict

control: but it is thought that an exclusive regard to pleasurable and

painful consequences would frequently admit exceptions to rules which

Common Sense imposes as absolute. It should, however, be observed

that the admission of an exception on general grounds is merely the

establishment of a more complex and delicate rule, instead of one that

is broader and simpler; for if it is conducive to the general good

that such an exception be admitted in one case, it will be equally

so in all similar cases. Suppose (_e.g._) that a Utilitarian thinks

it on general grounds right to answer falsely a question as to the

manner in which he has voted at a political election where the voting

is by secret ballot. His reasons will probably be that the Utilitarian

prohibition of falsehood is based on (1) the harm done by misleading

particular individuals, and (2) the tendency of false statements to

diminish the mutual confidence that men ought to have in each other’s

assertions: and that in this exceptional case it is (1) expedient that

the questioner should be misled; while (2), in so far as the falsehood

tends to produce a general distrust of all assertions as to the manner

in which a man has voted, it only furthers the end for which voting

has been made secret. It is evident, that if these reasons are valid

for any person, they are valid for all persons; in fact, that they

establish the expediency of a new general rule in respect of truth

and falsehood, more complicated than the old one; a rule which the

Utilitarian, as such, should desire to be universally obeyed.

There are, of course, some kinds of moral innovation which, from

the nature of the case, are not likely to occur frequently; as

where Utilitarian reasoning leads a man to take part in a political

revolution, or to support a public measure in opposition to what Common

Sense regards as Justice or Good Faith. Still, in such cases a rational

Utilitarian will usually proceed on general principles, which he would

desire all persons in similar circumstances to carry into effect.

We have, however, to consider another kind of exceptions, differing

fundamentally from this, which Utilitarianism seems to admit; where

the agent does not think it expedient that the rule on which he

himself acts should be universally adopted, and yet maintains that his

individual act is right, as producing a greater balance of pleasure

over pain than any other conduct open to him would produce.

Now we cannot fairly argue that, because a large aggregate of acts

would cause more harm than good, therefore any single act of the kind

will produce this effect. It may even be a straining of language to

say that it has a _tendency_ to produce it: no one (_e.g._) would

say that because an army walking over a bridge would break it down,

therefore the crossing of a single traveller has a tendency to

destroy it. And just as a prudent physician in giving rules of diet

recommends an occasional deviation from them, as more conducive to the

health of the body than absolute regularity; so there may be rules

of social behaviour of which the general observance is necessary

to the well-being of the community, while yet a certain amount of

non-observance is rather advantageous than otherwise.

Here, however, we seem brought into conflict with Kant’s fundamental

principle, that a right action must be one of which the agent

could “will the maxim to be law universal.”[370] But, as was

before[371] noticed in the particular case of veracity, we must

admit an application of this principle, which importantly modifies

its practical force: we must admit the case where the belief that

the action in question will not be widely imitated is an essential

qualification of the maxim which the Kantian principle is applied

to test. For this principle,--at least so far as I have accepted it

as self-evident--means no more than that an act, if right for any

individual, must be right on general grounds, and therefore for some

_class_ of persons; it therefore cannot prevent us from defining this

class by the above-mentioned characteristic of believing that the act

will remain an exceptional one. Of course if this belief turns out

to be erroneous, serious harm may possibly result; but this is no

more than may be said of many other Utilitarian deductions. Nor is

it difficult to find instances of conduct which Common Sense holds

to be legitimate solely on the ground that we have no fear of its

being too widely imitated. Take, for example, the case of Celibacy.

A universal refusal to propagate the human species would be the

greatest of conceivable crimes from a Utilitarian point of view;--that

is, according to the commonly accepted belief in the superiority of

human happiness to that of other animals;--and hence the principle in

question, applied without the qualification above given, would make

it a crime in any one to choose celibacy as the state most conducive

to his own happiness. But Common Sense (in the present age at least)

regards such preference as within the limits of right conduct; because

there is no fear that population will not be sufficiently kept up, as

in fact the tendency to propagate is thought to exist rather in excess

than otherwise.

In this case it is a non-moral impulse on the average strength of

which we think we may reckon: but there does not appear to be any

formal or universal reason why the same procedure should not be applied

by Utilitarians to an actually existing moral sentiment. The result

would be a discrepancy of a peculiar kind between Utilitarianism and

Common-Sense morality; as the very firmness with which the latter

is established would be the Utilitarian ground for relieving the

individual of its obligations. We are supposed to see that general

happiness will be enhanced (just as the excellence of a metrical

composition is) by a slight admixture of irregularity along with

a general observance of received rules; and hence to justify the

irregular conduct of a few individuals, on the ground that the supply

of regular conduct from other members of the community may reasonably

be expected to be adequate.

It does not seem to me that this reasoning can be shown to be

necessarily unsound, as applied to human society as at present

constituted: but the cases in which it could really be thought to be

applicable, by any one sincerely desirous of promoting the general

happiness, must certainly be rare. For it should be observed that

it makes a fundamental difference whether the sentiment in mankind

generally, on which we rely to sustain sufficiently a general rule

while admitting exceptions thereto, is moral or non-moral; because a

moral sentiment is inseparable from the conviction that the conduct to

which it prompts is objectively right--_i.e._ right whether or not it

is thought or felt to be so--for oneself and all similar persons in

similar circumstances; it cannot therefore coexist with approval of the

contrary conduct in any one case, unless this case is distinguished by

some material difference other than the mere non-existence in the agent

of the ordinary moral sentiment against his conduct. Thus, assuming

that general unveracity and general celibacy would both be evils of

the worst kind, we may still all regard it as legitimate for men in

general to remain celibate if they like, on account of the strength of

the natural sentiments prompting to marriage, because the existence

of these sentiments in ordinary human beings is not affected by the

universal recognition of the legitimacy of celibacy: but we cannot

similarly all regard it as legitimate for men to tell lies if they

like, however strong the actually existing sentiment against lying

may be, because as soon as this legitimacy is generally recognised

the sentiment must be expected to decay and vanish. If therefore we

were all enlightened Utilitarians, it would be impossible for any one

to justify himself in making false statements while admitting it to

be inexpedient for persons similarly conditioned to make them; as he

would have no ground for believing that persons similarly conditioned

would act differently from himself. The case, no doubt, is different in

society as actually constituted; it is conceivable that the practically

effective morality in such a society, resting on a basis independent

of utilitarian or any other reasonings, may not be materially affected

by the particular act or expressed opinion of a particular individual:

but the circumstances are, I conceive, very rare, in which a really

conscientious person could feel so sure of this as to conclude that

by approving a particular violation of a rule, of which the _general_

(though not _universal_) observance is plainly expedient, he will not

probably do harm on the whole. Especially as all the objections to

innovation, noticed in the previous section, apply with increased

force if the innovator does not even claim to be introducing a new and

better general rule.

It appears to me, therefore, that the cases in which practical doubts

are likely to arise, as to whether exceptions should be permitted from

ordinary rules on Utilitarian principles, will mostly be those which I

discussed in the first paragraph of this section: where the exceptions

are not claimed for a few individuals, on the mere ground of their

probable fewness, but either for persons generally under exceptional

circumstances, or for a class of persons defined by exceptional

qualities of intellect, temperament, or character. In such cases the

Utilitarian may have no doubt that in a community consisting generally

of enlightened Utilitarians, these grounds for exceptional ethical

treatment would be regarded as valid; still he may, as I have said,

doubt whether the more refined and complicated rule which recognises

such exceptions is adapted for the community in which he is actually

living; and whether the attempt to introduce it is not likely to do

more harm by weakening current morality than good by improving its

quality. Supposing such a doubt to arise, either in a case of this

kind, or in one of the rare cases discussed in the preceding paragraph,

it becomes necessary that the Utilitarian should consider carefully the

extent to which his advice or example are likely to influence persons

to whom they would be dangerous: and it is evident that the result

of this consideration may depend largely on the degree of publicity

which he gives to either advice or example. Thus, on Utilitarian

principles, it may be right to do and privately recommend, under

certain circumstances, what it would not be right to advocate openly;

it may be right to teach openly to one set of persons what it would

be wrong to teach to others; it may be conceivably right to do, if it

can be done with comparative secrecy, what it would be wrong to do in

the face of the world; and even, if perfect secrecy can be reasonably

expected, what it would be wrong to recommend by private advice or

example. These conclusions are all of a paradoxical character:[372]

there is no doubt that the moral consciousness of a plain man broadly

repudiates the general notion of an esoteric morality, differing from

that popularly taught; and it would be commonly agreed that an action

which would be bad if done openly is not rendered good by secrecy. We

may observe, however, that there are strong utilitarian reasons for

maintaining generally this latter common opinion; for it is obviously

advantageous, generally speaking, that acts which it is expedient to

repress by social disapprobation should become known, as otherwise the

disapprobation cannot operate; so that it seems inexpedient to support

by any moral encouragement the natural disposition of men in general

to conceal their wrong doings; besides that the concealment would in

most cases have importantly injurious effects on the agent’s habits of

veracity. Thus the Utilitarian conclusion, carefully stated, would seem

to be this; that the opinion that secrecy may render an action right

which would not otherwise be so should itself be kept comparatively

secret; and similarly it seems expedient that the doctrine that

esoteric morality is expedient should itself be kept esoteric. Or if

this concealment be difficult to maintain, it may be desirable that

Common Sense should repudiate the doctrines which it is expedient to

confine to an enlightened few. And thus a Utilitarian may reasonably

desire, on Utilitarian principles, that some of his conclusions should

be rejected by mankind generally; or even that the vulgar should

keep aloof from his system as a whole, in so far as the inevitable

indefiniteness and complexity of its calculations render it likely to

lead to bad results in their hands.

Of course, as I have said, in an ideal community of enlightened

Utilitarians this swarm of perplexities and paradoxes would vanish;

as in such a society no one can have any ground for believing that

other persons will act on moral principles different from those

which he adopts. And any enlightened Utilitarian must of course

desire this consummation; as all conflict of moral opinion must _pro

tanto_ be regarded as an evil, as tending to impair the force of

morality generally in its resistance to seductive impulses. Still

such conflict may be a necessary evil in the actual condition of

civilised communities, in which there are so many different degrees of

intellectual and moral development.

We have thus been led to the discussion of the question which we

reserved in the last section; viz. how Utilitarianism should deal

with the fact of divergent moral opinions held simultaneously by

different members of the same society. For it has become plain that

though two different kinds of conduct cannot both be right under the

same circumstances, two contradictory opinions as to the rightness of

conduct may possibly both be expedient; it may conduce most to the

general happiness that _A_ should do a certain act, and at the same

time that _B_, _C_, _D_ should blame it. The Utilitarian of course

cannot really join in the disapproval, but he may think it expedient

to leave it unshaken; and at the same time may think it right, if

placed in the supposed circumstances, to do the act that is generally

disapproved. And so generally it may be best on the whole that there

should be conflicting codes of morality in a given society at a

certain stage of its development. And, as I have already hinted, the

same general reasoning, from the probable origin of the moral sense

and its flexible adjustment to the varying conditions of human life,

which furnished a presumption that Common-Sense morality is roughly

coincident with the Utilitarian code proper for men as now constituted,

may be applied in favour of these divergent codes also: it may be said

that these, too, form part of the complex adjustment of man to his

circumstances, and that they are needed to supplement and qualify the

morality of Common Sense.

However paradoxical this doctrine may appear, we can find cases where

it seems to be implicitly accepted by Common Sense; or at least

where it is required to make Common Sense consistent with itself.

Let us consider, for example, the common moral judgments concerning

rebellions. It is commonly thought, on the one hand, that these abrupt

breaches of order are sometimes morally necessary; and, on the other

hand, that they ought always to be vigorously resisted, and in case

of failure punished by extreme penalties inflicted at least on the

ring-leaders; for otherwise they would be attempted under circumstances

where there was no sufficient justification for them: but it seems

evident that, in the actual condition of men’s moral sentiments, this

vigorous repression requires the support of a strong body of opinion

condemning the rebels as wrong, and not merely as mistaken in their

calculations of the chances of success. For similar reasons it may

possibly be expedient on the whole that certain special relaxations

of certain moral rules should continue to exist in certain professions

and sections of society, while at the same time they continue to be

disapproved by the rest of the society. The evils, however, which must

spring from this permanent conflict of opinion are so grave, that an

enlightened Utilitarian will probably in most cases attempt to remove

it; by either openly maintaining the need of a relaxation of the

ordinary moral rule under the special circumstances in question; or,

on the other hand, endeavouring to get the ordinary rule recognised

and enforced by all conscientious persons in that section of society

where its breach has become habitual. And of these two courses it seems

likely that he will in most cases adopt the latter; since such rules

are most commonly found on examination to have been relaxed rather for

the convenience of individuals, than in the interest of the community

at large.

§ 4. Finally, let us consider the general relation of Utilitarianism to

that part of common morality which extends beyond the range of strict

duty; that is, to the Ideal of character and conduct which in any

community at any given time is commonly admired and praised as the sum

of Excellences or Perfections. To begin, it must be allowed that this

distinction between Excellence and Strict Duty does not seem properly

admissible in Utilitarianism--except so far as some excellences are

only partially and indirectly within the control of the will, and we

require to distinguish the realisation of these in conduct from the

performance of Duty proper, which is always something that _can_ be

done at any moment. For a Utilitarian must hold that it is always wrong

for a man knowingly to do anything other than what he believes to be

most conducive to Universal Happiness. Still, it seems practically

expedient,--and therefore indirectly reasonable on Utilitarian

principles,--to retain, in judging even the strictly voluntary conduct

of others, the distinction between a part that is praiseworthy and

admirable and a part that is merely right: because it is natural to us

to compare any individual’s character or conduct, not with our highest

ideal--Utilitarian or otherwise--but with a certain average standard

and to admire what rises above the standard; and it seems ultimately

conducive to the general happiness that such natural sentiments of

admiration should be encouraged and developed. For human nature seems

to require the double stimulus of praise and blame from others, in

order to the best performance of duty that it can at present attain:

so that the ‘social sanction’ would be less effective if it became

purely penal. Indeed, since the pains of remorse and disapprobation

are in themselves to be avoided, it is plain that the Utilitarian

construction of a Jural morality is essentially self-limiting; that is,

it prescribes its own avoidance of any department of conduct in which

the addition that can be made to happiness through the enforcement of

rules sustained by social penalties appears doubtful or inconsiderable.

In such departments, however, the æsthetic phase of morality may still

reasonably find a place; we may properly admire and praise where it

would be inexpedient to judge and condemn. We may conclude, then,

that it is reasonable for a Utilitarian to praise any conduct more

felicific in its tendency than what an average man would do under the

given circumstances:--being aware of course that the limit down to

which praise worthiness extends must be relative to the particular

state of moral progress reached by mankind generally in his age and

country; and that it is desirable to make continual efforts to elevate

this standard. Similarly, the Utilitarian will praise the Dispositions

or permanent qualities of character of which felicific conduct is

conceived to be the result, and the Motives that are conceived to

prompt to it when it would be a clear gain to the general happiness

that these should become more frequent: and, as we have seen,[373] he

may without inconsistency admire the Disposition or Motive if it is

of a kind which it is generally desirable to encourage, even while he

disapproves of the conduct to which it has led in any particular case.

Passing now to compare the contents of the Utilitarian Ideal of

character with the virtues and other excellences recognised by Common

Sense, we may observe, first, that general coincidence between the

two on which Hume and others have insisted. No quality has ever been

praised as excellent by mankind generally which cannot be shown to have

some marked felicific effect, and to be within proper limits obviously

conducive to the general happiness. Still, it does not follow that

such qualities are always fostered and encouraged by society in the

proportion which a Utilitarian would desire: in fact, it is a common

observation to make, in contemplating the morality of societies other

than our own, that some useful qualities are unduly neglected, while

others are over-prized and even admired when they exist in such excess

as to become, on the whole, infelicific. The consistent Utilitarian

may therefore find it necessary to rectify the prevalent moral ideal

in important particulars. And here it scarcely seems that he will find

any such Utilitarian restrictions on innovation, as appeared to exist

in the case of commonly received rules of duty. For the Common-Sense

notions of the different excellences of conduct (considered as

extending beyond the range of strict duty) are generally so vague as to

offer at least no definite resistance to a Utilitarian interpretation

of their scope: by teaching and acting upon such an interpretation a

man is in no danger of being brought into infelicific discord with

Common Sense: especially since the ideal of moral excellence seems

to vary within the limits of the same community to a much greater

extent than the code of strict duty. For example, a man who in an age

when excessive asceticism is praised, sets an example of enjoying

harmless bodily pleasures, or who in circles where useless daring is

admired, prefers to exhibit and commend caution and discretion, at the

worst misses some praise that he might otherwise have earned, and is

thought a little dull or unaspiring: he does not come into any patent

conflict with common opinion. Perhaps we may say generally that an

enlightened Utilitarian is likely to lay less stress on the cultivation

of those negative virtues, tendencies to restrict and refrain, which

are prominent in the Common-Sense ideal of character; and to set more

value in comparison on those qualities of mind which are the direct

source of positive pleasure to the agent or to others--some of which

Common Sense scarcely recognises as excellences: still, he will not

carry this innovation to such a pitch as to incur general condemnation.

For no enlightened Utilitarian can ignore the fundamental importance

of the restrictive and repressive virtues, or think that they are

sufficiently developed in ordinary men at the present time, so that

they may properly be excluded from moral admiration; though he may hold

that they have been too prominent, to the neglect of other valuable

qualities, in the common conception of moral Perfection. Nay, we may

even venture to say that, under most circumstances, a man who earnestly

and successfully endeavours to realise the Utilitarian Ideal, however

he may deviate from the commonly-received type of a perfect character,

is likely to win sufficient recognition and praise from Common Sense.

For, whether it be true or not that the whole of morality has sprung

from the root of sympathy, it is certain that self-love and sympathy

combined are sufficiently strong in average men to dispose them to

grateful admiration of any exceptional efforts to promote the common

good, even though these efforts may take a somewhat novel form. To any

exhibition of more extended sympathy or more fervent public spirit

than is ordinarily shown, and any attempt to develop these equalities

in others, Common Sense is rarely unresponsive; provided, of course,

that these impulses are accompanied with adequate knowledge of actual

circumstances and insight into the relation of means to ends, and that

they do not run counter to any recognised rules of duty.[374] And

it seems to be principally in this direction that the recent spread

of Utilitarianism has positively modified the ideal of our society,

and is likely to modify it further in the future. Hence the stress

which Utilitarians are apt to lay on social and political activity

of all kinds, and the tendency which Utilitarian ethics have always

shown to pass over into politics. For one who values conduct in

proportion to its felicific consequences, will naturally set a higher

estimate on effective beneficence in public affairs than on the purest

manifestation of virtue in the details of private life: while on the

other hand an Intuitionist (though no doubt vaguely recognising that a

man ought to do all the good he can in public affairs) still commonly

holds that virtue may be as fully and as admirably exhibited on a small

as on a large scale. A sincere Utilitarian, therefore, is likely to be

an eager politician: but on what principles his political action ought

to be determined, it scarcely lies within the scope of this treatise to

investigate.

FOOTNOTES:

[364] I do not mean that this sentiment is in my view incompatible

with Utilitarianism; I mean that it must not attach itself to any

subordinate rules of conduct, but only to the supreme principle of

acting with impartial concern for all elements of general happiness.

[365] For example, Mr. Bain in _Mind_ (Jan. 1883, pp. 48, 49).

[366] This sentence is not an exact quotation, but a summary of

the doctrine set forth by J. S. Mill in his treatise _On Liberty_

(Introduction).

[367] See Mill _On Liberty_, chap. iv. It may be observed that Mill’s

doctrine is certainly opposed to common sense: since (_e.g._) it would

exclude from censure almost all forms of sexual immorality committed by

unmarried and independent adults.

[368] Cf. Book iii. chap. xiv.

[369] Cf. especially Book iii. chap. ii.

[370] Cf. Book iii. chap. i. and chap. xiii.

[371] Book iii. chap. vii. § 3.

[372] In particular cases, however, they seem to be admitted by Common

Sense to a certain extent. For example, it would be commonly thought

wrong to express in public speeches disturbing religious or political

opinions which may be legitimately published in books.

[373] Cf. chap. iii. § 2 of this Book.

[374] We have seen that a Utilitarian may sometimes have to override

these rules; but then the case falls under the head discussed in the

previous section.

CONCLUDING CHAPTER

THE MUTUAL RELATIONS OF THE THREE METHODS

§ 1. In the greater part of the treatise of which the final chapter

has now been reached, we have been employed in examining three methods

of determining right conduct, which are for the most part found more

or less vaguely combined in the practical reasonings of ordinary men,

but which it has been my aim to develop as separately as possible.

A complete synthesis of these different methods is not attempted in

the present work: at the same time it would hardly be satisfactory to

conclude the analysis of them without some discussion of their mutual

relations. Indeed we have already found it expedient to do this to a

considerable extent, in the course of our examination of the separate

methods. Thus, in the present and preceding Books we have directly

or indirectly gone through a pretty full examination of the mutual

relations of the Intuitional and Utilitarian methods. We have found

that the common antithesis between Intuitionists and Utilitarians must

be entirely discarded: since such abstract moral principles as we can

admit to be really self-evident are not only not incompatible with

a Utilitarian system, but even seem required to furnish a rational

basis for such a system. Thus we have seen that the essence of Justice

or Equity (in so far as it is clear and certain), is that different

individuals are not to be treated differently, except on grounds of

universal application; and that such grounds, again, are supplied by

the principle of Universal Benevolence, that sets before each man the

happiness of all others as an object of pursuit no less worthy than

his own; while other time-honoured virtues seem to be fitly explained

as special manifestations of impartial benevolence under various

circumstances of human life, or else as habits and dispositions

indispensable to the maintenance of prudent or beneficent behaviour

under the seductive force of various non-rational impulses. And

although there are other rules which our common moral sense when first

interrogated seems to enunciate as absolutely binding; it has appeared

that careful and systematic reflection on this very Common Sense, as

expressed in the habitual moral judgments of ordinary men, results in

exhibiting the real subordination of these rules to the fundamental

principles above given. Then, further, this method of systematising

particular virtues and duties receives very strong support from a

comparative study of the history of morality; as the variations in the

moral codes of different societies at different stages correspond, in a

great measure, to differences in the actual or believed tendencies of

certain kinds of conduct to promote the general happiness of different

portions of the human race: while, again, the most probable conjectures

as to the pre-historic condition and original derivation of the moral

faculty seem to be entirely in harmony with this view. No doubt, even

if this synthesis of methods be completely accepted, there will remain

some discrepancy in details between our particular moral sentiments

and unreasoned judgments on the one hand, and the apparent results of

special utilitarian calculations on the other; and we may often have

some practical difficulty in balancing the latter against the more

general utilitarian reasons for obeying the former: but there seems

to be no longer any theoretical perplexity as to the principles for

determining social duty.

It remains for us to consider the relation of the two species of

Hedonism which we have distinguished as Universalistic and Egoistic.

In chap. ii. of this Book we have discussed the rational process

(called by a stretch of language ‘proof’) by which one who holds it

reasonable to aim at his own greatest happiness may be determined to

take Universal Happiness instead, as his ultimate standard of right

conduct. We have seen, however, that the application of this process

requires that the Egoist should affirm, implicitly or explicitly, that

his own greatest happiness is not merely the rational ultimate end for

himself, but a part of Universal Good: and he may avoid the proof of

Utilitarianism by declining to affirm this. It would be contrary to

Common Sense to deny that the distinction between any one individual

and any other is real and fundamental, and that consequently “I” am

concerned with the quality of my existence as an individual in a sense,

fundamentally important, in which I am not concerned with the quality

of the existence of other individuals: and this being so, I do not

see how it can be proved that this distinction is not to be taken as

fundamental in determining the ultimate end of rational action for an

individual. And it may be observed that most Utilitarians, however

anxious they have been to convince men of the reasonableness of aiming

at happiness generally, have not commonly sought to attain this result

by any logical transition from the Egoistic to the Universalistic

principle. They have relied almost entirely on the Sanctions of

Utilitarian rules; that is, on the pleasures gained or pains avoided

by the individual conforming to them. Indeed, if an Egoist remains

impervious to what we have called Proof, the only way of rationally

inducing him to aim at the happiness of all, is to show him that his

own greatest happiness can be best attained by so doing. And further,

even if a man admits the self-evidence of the principle of Rational

Benevolence, he may still hold that his own happiness is an end which

it is irrational for him to sacrifice to any other; and that therefore

a harmony between the maxim of Prudence and the maxim of Rational

Benevolence must be somehow demonstrated, if morality is to be made

completely rational. This latter view, indeed (as I have before said),

appears to me, on the whole, the view of Common Sense: and it is that

which I myself hold. It thus becomes needful to examine how far and in

what way the required demonstration can be effected.

§ 2. Now, in so far as Utilitarian morality coincides with that

of Common Sense--as we have seen that it does in the main--this

investigation has been partly performed in chap. v. of Book ii. It

there appeared that while in any tolerable state of society the

performance of duties towards others and the exercise of social virtues

seem _generally_ likely to coincide with the attainment of the greatest

possible happiness in the long run for the virtuous agent, still the

_universality_ and _completeness_ of this coincidence are at least

incapable of empirical proof: and that, indeed, the more carefully

we analyse and estimate the different sanctions--Legal, Social, and

Conscientious--considered as operating under the actual conditions of

human life, the more difficult it seems to believe that they can be

always adequate to produce this coincidence. The natural effect of this

argument upon a convinced Utilitarian is merely to make him anxious to

alter the actual conditions of human life: and it would certainly be a

most valuable contribution to the actual happiness of mankind, if we

could so improve the adjustment of the machine of Law in any society,

and so stimulate and direct the common awards of praise and blame, and

so develop and train the moral sense of the members of the community,

as to render it clearly prudent for every individual to promote as much

as possible the general good. However, we are not now considering what

a consistent Utilitarian will try to effect for the future, but what

a consistent Egoist is to do in the present. And it must be admitted

that, as things are, whatever difference exists between Utilitarian

morality and that of Common Sense is of such a kind as to render the

coincidence with Egoism still more improbable in the case of the

former. For we have seen that Utilitarianism is more rigid than Common

Sense in exacting the sacrifice of the agent’s private interests where

they are incompatible with the greatest happiness of the greatest

number: and of course in so far as the Utilitarian’s principles bring

him into conflict with any of the commonly accepted rules of morality,

the whole force of the Social Sanction operates to deter him from what

he conceives to be his duty.

§ 3. There are, however, writers of the Utilitarian school[375] who

seem to maintain or imply, that by due contemplation of the paramount

importance of Sympathy as an element of human happiness we shall be led

to see the coincidence of the good of each with the good of all. In

opposing this view, I am as far as possible from any wish to depreciate

the value of sympathy as a source of happiness even to human beings as

at present constituted. Indeed I am of opinion that its pleasures and

pains really constitute a great part of that internal reward of social

virtue, and punishment of social misconduct, which in Book ii. chap.

v. I roughly set down as due to the moral sentiments. For, in fact,

though I can to some extent distinguish sympathetic from strictly moral

feelings in introspective analysis of my own consciousness, I cannot

say precisely in what proportion these two elements are combined. For

instance: I seem able to distinguish the “sense of the ignobility

of Egoism” of which I have before spoken--which, in my view, is the

normal emotional concomitant or expression of the moral intuition

that the Good of the whole is reasonably to be preferred to the Good

of a part--from the jar of sympathetic discomfort which attends the

conscious choice of my own pleasure at the expense of pain or loss to

others; but I find it impossible to determine what force the former

sentiment would have if actually separated from the latter, and I am

inclined to think that the two kinds of feeling are very variously

combined in different individuals. Perhaps, indeed, we may trace a

general law of variation in the relative proportion of these two

elements as exhibited in the development of the moral consciousness

both in the race and in individuals; for it seems that at a certain

stage of this development the mind is more susceptible to emotions

connected with abstract moral ideas and rules presented as absolute;

while after emerging from this stage and before entering it the

feelings that belong to personal relations are stronger.[376] Certainly

in a Utilitarian’s mind sympathy tends to become a prominent element

of all instinctive moral feelings that refer to social conduct; as in

his view the rational basis of the moral impulse must ultimately lie

in some pleasure won or pain saved for himself or for others; so that

he never has to sacrifice himself to an Impersonal Law, but always

for some being or beings with whom he has at least some degree of

fellow-feeling.

But besides admitting the actual importance of sympathetic pleasures

to the majority of mankind, I should go further and maintain that,

on empirical grounds alone, enlightened self-interest would direct

most men to foster and develop their sympathetic susceptibilities to

a greater extent than is now commonly attained. The effectiveness

of Butler’s famous argument against the vulgar antithesis between

Self-love and Benevolence is undeniable: and it seems scarcely

extravagant to say that, amid all the profuse waste of the means of

happiness which men commit, there is no imprudence more flagrant than

that of Selfishness in the ordinary sense of the term,--that excessive

concentration of attention on the individual’s own happiness which

renders it impossible for him to feel any strong interest in the

pleasures and pains of others. The perpetual prominence of self that

hence results tends to deprive all enjoyments of their keenness and

zest, and produce rapid satiety and _ennui_: the selfish man misses

the sense of elevation and enlargement given by wide interests; he

misses the more secure and serene satisfaction that attends continually

on activities directed towards ends more stable in prospect than an

individual’s happiness can be; he misses the peculiar rich sweetness,

depending upon a sort of complex reverberation of sympathy, which is

always found in services rendered to those whom we love and who are

grateful. He is made to feel in a thousand various ways, according to

the degree of refinement which his nature has attained, the discord

between the rhythms of his own life and of that larger life of which

his own is but an insignificant fraction.

But allowing[377] all this, it yet seems to me as certain as any

conclusion arrived at by hedonistic comparison can be, that the

utmost development of sympathy, intensive and extensive, which is now

possible to any but a very few exceptional persons, would not cause a

perfect coincidence between Utilitarian duty and self-interest. Here

it seems to me that what was said in Book ii. chap. v. § 4, to show

the insufficiency of the Conscientious Sanction, applies equally,

_mutatis mutandis_, to Sympathy. Suppose a man finds that a regard for

the general good--Utilitarian Duty--demands from him a sacrifice, or

extreme risk, of life. There are perhaps one or two human beings so

dear to him that the remainder of a life saved by sacrificing their

happiness to his own would be worthless to him from an egoistic point

of view. But it is doubtful whether many men, “sitting down in a cool

hour” to make the estimate, would affirm even this: and of course that

particular portion of the general happiness, for which one is called

upon to sacrifice one’s own, may easily be the happiness of persons

not especially dear to one. But again, from this normal limitation of

our keenest and strongest sympathy to a very small circle of human

beings, it results that the very development of sympathy may operate

to increase the weight thrown into the scale against Utilitarian duty.

There are very few persons, however strongly and widely sympathetic,

who are so constituted as to feel for the pleasures and pains of

mankind generally a degree of sympathy at all commensurate with their

concern for wife or children, or lover, or intimate friend: and if

any training of the affections is at present possible which would

materially alter this proportion in the general distribution of our

sympathy, it scarcely seems that such a training is to be recommended

as on the whole felicific.[378] And thus when Utilitarian Duty calls on

us to sacrifice not only our own pleasures but the happiness of those

we love to the general good, the very sanction on which Utilitarianism

most relies must act powerfully in opposition to its precepts.

But even apart from these exceptional cases--which are yet sufficient

to decide the abstract question--it seems that the course of conduct

by which a man would most fully reap the rewards of sympathy (so far

as they are empirically ascertainable) will often be very different

from that to which a sincere desire to promote the general happiness

would direct him. For the relief of distress and calamity is an

important part of Utilitarian duty: but as the state of the person

relieved is on the whole painful, it would appear that sympathy under

these circumstances must be a source of pain rather than pleasure, in

proportion to its intensity. It is probably true, as a general rule,

that in the relief of distress other elements of the complex pleasure

of benevolence decidedly outweigh this sympathetic pain:--for the

effusion of pity is itself pleasurable, and we commonly feel more

keenly that amelioration of the sufferer’s state which is due to our

exertions than we do his pain otherwise caused, and there is further

the pleasure that we derive from his gratitude, and the pleasure that

is the normal reflex of activity directed under a strong impulse

towards a permanently valued end. Still, when the distress is bitter

and continued, and such as we can only partially mitigate by all our

efforts, the philanthropist’s sympathetic discomfort must necessarily

be considerable; and the work of combating misery, though not devoid

of elevated happiness, will be much less happy on the whole than many

other forms of activity; while yet it may be to just this work that

Duty seems to summon us. Or again, a man may find that he can best

promote the general happiness by working in comparative solitude for

ends that he never hopes to see realised, or by working chiefly among

and for persons for whom he cannot feel much affection, or by doing

what must alienate or grieve those whom he loves best, or must make it

necessary for him to dispense with the most intimate of human ties. In

short, there seem to be numberless ways in which the dictates of that

Rational Benevolence, which as a Utilitarian he is bound absolutely

to obey, may conflict with that indulgence of kind affections which

Shaftesbury and his followers so persuasively exhibit as its own reward.

§ 4. It seems, then, that we must conclude, from the arguments given

in Book ii. chap. v., supplemented by the discussion in the preceding

section, that the inseparable connexion between Utilitarian Duty and

the greatest happiness of the individual who conforms to it cannot be

satisfactorily demonstrated on empirical grounds. Hence another section

of the Utilitarian school has preferred to throw the weight of Duty on

the Religious Sanction: and this procedure has been partly adopted

by some of those who have chiefly dwelt on sympathy as a motive. From

this point of view the Utilitarian Code is conceived as the Law of God,

who is to be regarded as having commanded men to promote the general

happiness, and as having announced an intention of rewarding those who

obey His commands and punishing the disobedient. It is clear that if we

feel convinced that an Omnipotent Being has, in whatever way, signified

such commands and announcements, a rational egoist can want no further

inducement to frame his life on Utilitarian principles. It only remains

to consider how this conviction is attained. This is commonly thought

to be either by supernatural Revelation, or by the natural exercise of

Reason, or in both ways. As regards the former it is to be observed

that--with a few exceptions--the moralists who hold that God has

disclosed His law either to special individuals in past ages who have

left a written record of what was revealed to them, or to a permanent

succession of persons appointed in a particular manner, or to religious

persons generally in some supernatural way, do not consider that it is

the Utilitarian Code that has thus been revealed, but rather the rules

of Common-Sense morality with some special modifications and additions.

Still, as Mill has urged, in so far as Utilitarianism is more rigorous

than Common Sense in exacting the sacrifice of the individual’s

happiness to that of mankind generally, it is strictly in accordance

with the most characteristic teaching of Christianity. It seems,

however, unnecessary to discuss the precise relation of different

Revelational Codes to Utilitarianism, as it would be going beyond our

province to investigate the grounds on which a Divine origin has been

attributed to them.

In so far, however, as a knowledge of God’s law is believed to be

attainable by the Reason, Ethics and Theology seem to be so closely

connected that we cannot sharply separate their provinces. For, as we

saw,[379] it has been widely maintained, that the relation of moral

rules to a Divine Lawgiver is implicitly cognised in the act of thought

by which we discern these rules to be binding. And no doubt the terms

(such as ‘moral obligation’), which we commonly use in speaking of

these rules, are naturally suggestive of Legal Sanctions and so of

a Sovereign by whom these are announced and enforced. Indeed many

thinkers since Locke have refused to admit any other meaning in the

terms Right, Duty, etc., except that of a rule imposed by a lawgiver.

This view, however, seems opposed to Common Sense; as may be, perhaps,

most easily shown[380] by pointing out that the Divine Lawgiver is

Himself conceived as a Moral Agent; _i.e._ as prescribing what is

right, and designing what is good. It is clear that in this conception

at least the notions ‘right’ and ‘good’ are used absolutely, without

any reference to a superior lawgiver; and that they are here used in a

sense not essentially different from that which they ordinarily bear

seems to be affirmed by the _consensus_ of religious persons. Still,

though Common Sense does not regard moral rules as being _merely_

the mandates of an Omnipotent Being who will reward and punish men

according as they obey or violate them; it certainly holds that this

is a true though partial view of them, and perhaps that it may be

intuitively apprehended. If then reflection leads us to conclude that

the particular moral principles of Common Sense are to be systematised

as subordinate to that pre-eminently certain and irrefragable intuition

which stands as the first principle of Utilitarianism; then, of course,

it will be the Utilitarian Code to which we shall believe the Divine

Sanctions to be attached.

Or, again, we may argue thus. If--as all theologians agree--we are to

conceive God as acting for some end, we must conceive that end to be

Universal Good, and, if Utilitarians are right, Universal Happiness:

and we cannot suppose that in a world morally governed it can be

prudent for any man to act in conscious opposition to what we believe

to be the Divine Design. Hence if in any case after calculating the

consequences of two alternatives of conduct we choose that which seems

likely to be less conducive to Happiness generally, we shall be acting

in a manner for which we cannot but expect to suffer.

To this it has been objected, that observation of the actual world

shows us that the happiness of sentient beings is so imperfectly

attained in it, and with so large an intermixture of pain and misery,

that we cannot really conceive Universal Happiness to be God’s end,

unless we admit that He is not Omnipotent. And no doubt the assertion

that God is omnipotent will require to be understood with some

limitation; but perhaps with no greater limitation than has always been

implicitly admitted by thoughtful theologians. For these seem always to

have allowed that some things are impossible to God: as, for example,

to change the past. And perhaps if our knowledge of the Universe were

complete, we might discern the _quantum_ of happiness ultimately

attained in it to be as great as could be attained without the

accomplishment of what we should then see to be just as inconceivable

and absurd as changing the past. This, however, is a view which it

belongs rather to the theologian to develop. I should rather urge that

there does not seem to be any other of the ordinary interpretations

of Good according to which it would appear to be more completely

realised in the actual universe. For the wonderful perfections of work

that we admire in the physical world are yet everywhere mingled with

imperfection, and subject to destruction and decay: and similarly in

the world of human conduct Virtue is at least as much balanced by Vice

as Happiness is by misery.[381] So that, if the ethical reasoning that

led us to interpret Ultimate Good as Happiness is sound, there seems no

argument from Natural Theology to set against it.