What then is the source of the motives towards Beneficence? How do the ideas of acts, having the good of our fellows for their end, become Affections and Motives? In the first place, we have associations of pleasure with all the pleasurable feelings of fellow-creatures, and hence, with such acts of ours as yield them pleasure. In the second place, those are the acts for procuring to ourselves the favourable Disposition of our Fellow-men, so that we have farther associations of the pleasures flowing from such favourable dispositions. Thus, by the union of two sets of influences—two streams of association—the Idea of our beneficent acts becomes a pleasurable idea, that is, an Affection, and, being connected with actions of ours, is also a Motive. Such is the genesis of Beneficent or Disinterested impulses.

We have next a class of associations with other men's performance of the several virtues. The Prudence and the Fortitude of others are directly beneficial to them, and indirectly beneficial to us; and with both these consequences we have necessarily agreeable associations. The Justice and the Beneficence of other men are so directly beneficial to the objects of them, that it is impossible for us not to have pleasurable associations with acts of Justice and Beneficence, first as concerns ourselves in particular, and next as concerns the acts generally. Hence, therefore, the rise of Affections and Motives in favour of these two virtues. As there is nothing so deeply interesting to me as that the acts of men, regarding myself immediately, should be acts of Justice and Beneficence, and the acts regarding themselves immediately, acts of Prudence and Fortitude; it follows that I have an interest in all such acts of my own as operate to cause those acts in others. By similar acts of our own, by the manifestation of dispositions to perform those acts, we obtain their reciprocal performance by others. There is thus a highly complex, concurring stimulus to acts of virtue,—a large aggregate of influences of association, the power at bottom being still our own pleasurable and painful sensations. We must add the ascription of Praise, an influence remarkable for its wide propagation and great efficacy over men's minds, and no less remarkable as a proof of the range of the associating principle, especially in its character of Fame, which, in the case of future fame, is a purely ideal or associated delight. Equally, if not more, striking are the illustrations from Dispraise. The associations of Disgrace, even when not sufficient to restrain the performance of acts abhorred by mankind, are able to produce the horrors of Remorse, the most intense of human sufferings. The love of praise leads by one step to the love of Praiseworthiness; the dread of blame, to the dread of Blameworthiness.

Of these various Motives, the most constant in operation, and the most in use in moral training, are Praise and Blame. It is the sensibility to Praise and Blame—the joyful feelings associated with the one, and the dread associated with the other—that gives effect to POPULAR OPINION, or the POPULAR SANCTION, and, with reference to men generally, the MORAL SANCTION.

The other motives to virtue, namely, the association of our own acts of Justice and Beneficence, as cause, with other men's as effects, are subject to strong counteraction, for we can rarely perform such acts without sacrifice to ourselves. Still, there is in all men a certain surplus of motive from this cause, just as there is a surplus from the association of acts of ours, hostile to other men, with a return of hostility on their part.

The best names for the aggregate Affection, Motive, and Disposition in this important region of conduct, are Moral Approbation and Disapprobation. The terms Moral Sense, Sense of Right and Wrong, Love of Virtue and Hatred of Vice, are not equally appropriate. Virtue and Morality are other synonyms.

In the work entitled, 'A Fragment on Mackintosh,' there are afforded farther illustrations of the author's derivation of the Moral Sentiment, together with an exposition and defence of Utility as the standard, in which his views are substantially at one with Bentham. Two or three references will be sufficient.

In the statement of the questions in dispute in Morals, he objects to the words 'test' and 'criterion,' as expressing the standard. He considers it a mistake to designate as a 'test' what is the thing itself; the test of Morality is Morality. Properly, the thing testing is one thing; the thing tested another thing. The same objection would apply to the use of the word Standard; so that the only form of the first question of Ethics would be, What is morality? What does it consist in? [The remark is just, but somewhat hypercritical. The illustration from Chemical testing is not true in fact; the test of gold is some essential attribute of gold, as its weight. And when we wish to determine as to a certain act, whether it is a moral act, we compare it with what we deem the essential quality of moral acts—Utility, our Moral Instinct, &c.—and the operation is not improperly called testing the act. Since, therefore, whatever we agree upon as the essence of morality, must be practically used by us as a test, criterion, or standard, there cannot be much harm in calling this essential quality the standard, although the designation is to a certain extent figurative.]

The author has some additional remarks on the derivation of our Disinterested feelings: he reiterates the position expressed in the 'Analysis,' that although we have feelings directly tending to the good of others, they are nevertheless the growth of feelings that are rooted in self. That feelings should be detached from their original root is a well known phenomenon of the mind.

His illustrations of Utility are a valuable contribution to the defence of that doctrine. He replies to most of the common objections. Mackintosh had urged that the reference to Utility would be made a dangerous pretext for allowing exceptions to common rules. Mill expounds at length (p. 246) the formation of moral rules, and retorts that there are rules expressly formed to make exceptions to other rules, as justice before generosity, charity begins at home, &c.

He animadverts with great severity on Mackintosh's doctrines, as to the delight of virtue for its own sake, and the special contact of moral feelings with the will. Allowance being made for the great difference in the way that the two writers express themselves, they are at one in maintaining Utility to be the ultimate standard, and in regarding Conscience as a derived faculty of the mind.

The author's handling of Ethics does not extend beyond the first and second topics—the STANDARD and the FACULTY. His Standard is Utility. The Faculty is based on our Pleasures and Pains, with which there are multiplied associations. Disinterested Sentiment is a real fact, but has its origin in our own proper pleasures and pains.

Mill considers that the existing moral rules are all based on our estimate, correct or incorrect, of Utility.

JOHN AUSTIN. [1790-1859.]

Austin, in his Lectures on 'The Province of Jurisprudence determined,' has discussed the leading questions of Ethics. We give an abstract of the Ethical part.

LECTURE I. Law, in its largest meaning, and omitting metaphorical applications, embraces Laws set by God to his creatures, and Laws set by man to man. Of the laws set by man to man, some are established by political superiors, or by persons exercising government in nations or political societies. This is law in the usual sense of the word, forming the subject of Jurisprudence. The author terms it Positive Law. There is another class of laws not set by political superiors in that capacity. Yet some of these are properly termed laws, although others are only so by a close Analogy. There is no name for the laws proper, but to the others are applied such names as 'moral rules,' 'the moral law,' 'general or public opinion,' 'the law of honour or of fashion.' The author proposes for these laws the name positive morality. The laws now enumerated differ in many important respects, but agree in this—that all of them are set by intelligent and rational beings to intelligent and rational beings. There is a figurative application of the word 'law,' to the uniformities of the natural world, through which, the field of jurisprudence and morals has been deluged with muddy speculation.

Laws properly so called are commands. A command is the signification of a desire or wish, accompanied with the power and the purpose to inflict evil if that desire is not complied with. The person so desired is bound or obliged, or placed under a duty, to obey. Refusal is disobedience, or violation of duty. The evil to be inflicted is called a sanction, or an enforcement of obedience; the term punishment expresses one class of sanctions.

The term sanction is improperly applied to a Reward. We cannot say that an action is commanded, or that obedience is constrained or enforced by the offer of a reward. Again, when a reward is offered, a right and not an obligation is created: the imperative function passes to the party receiving the reward. In short, it is only by conditional evil, that duties are sanctioned or enforced.

The correct meaning of superior and inferior is determined by command and obedience.

LECTURE II. The Divine Laws are the known commands of the Deity, enforced by the evils that we may suffer here or hereafter for breaking them. Some of these laws are revealed, others unrevealed. Paley and others have proved that it was not the purpose of Revelation to disclose the whole of our duties; the Light of Nature is an additional source. But how are we to interpret this Light of Nature?

The various hypotheses for resolving this question may be reduced to two: (1) an Innate Sentiment, called a Moral Sense, Common Sense, Practical Reason, &c.; and (2) the Theory of Utility.

The author avows his adherence to the theory of Utility, which he connects with the Divine Benevolence in the manner of Bentham. God designs the happiness of sentient beings. Some actions forward that purpose, others frustrate it. The first, God has enjoined; the second, He has forbidden. Knowing, therefore, the tendency of any action, we know the Divine command with respect to it.

The tendency of an action is all its consequences near and remote, certain and probable, direct and collateral. A petty theft, or the evasion of a trifling tax, may be insignificant, or even good, in the direct and immediate consequences; but before the full tendency can be weighed, we must resolve the question:—What would be the probable effect on the general happiness or good, if similar acts, or omissions, were general or frequent?

When the theory of Utility is correctly stated, the current objections are easily refuted. As viewed by the author, Utility is not the fountain or source of our duties; this must be commands and sanctions. But it is the index of the will of the law-giver, who is presumed to have for his chief end the happiness or good of mankind.

The most specious objection to Utility is the supposed necessity of going through a calculation of the consequences of every act that we have to perform, an operation often beyond our power, and likely to be abused to forward our private wishes. To this, the author replies first, that supposing utility our only index, we must make the best of it. Of course, if we were endowed with a moral sense, a special organ for ascertaining our duties, the attempt to displace that invincible consciousness, and to thrust the principle of utility into the vacant seat, would be impossible and absurd.

According to the theory of Utility, our conduct would conform to rules inferred from the tendencies of actions, but would not be determined by a direct resort to the principle of general utility. Utility would be the ultimate, not the immediate test. To preface each act or forbearance by a conjecture and comparison of consequences were both superfluous and mischievous:—superfluous, inasmuch as the result is already embodied in a known rule; and mischievous, inasmuch as the process, if performed on the spur of the occasion, would probably be faulty.

With the rules are associated sentiments, the result of the Divine, or other, command to obey the rules. It is a gross and flagrant error to talk of substituting calculation for sentiment; this is to oppose the rudder to the sail. Sentiment without calculation were capricious; calculation without sentiment is inert.

There are cases where the specific consequences of an action are so momentous as to overbear the rule; for example, resistance to a bad government, which the author calls an anomalous question, to be tried not by the rule, but by a direct resort to the ultimate or presiding-principle, and by a separate calculation of good and evil. Such was the political emergency of the Commonwealth, and the American revolution. It would have been well, the author thinks, if utility had been the sole guide in both cases.

There is a second objection to Utility, more perplexing to deal with. How can we know fully and correctly all the consequences of actions? The answer is that Ethics, as a science of observation and induction, has been formed, through a long succession of ages, by many and separate contributions from many and separate discoverers. Like all other sciences, it is progressive, although unfortunately, subject to special drawbacks. The men that have enquired, or affected to enquire, into Ethics, have rarely been impartial; they have laboured under prejudices or sinister interests; and have been the advocates of foregone conclusions. There is not on this subject a concurrence or agreement of numerous and impartial enquirers. Indeed, many of the legal and moral rules of the most civilized communities arose in the infancy of the human mind, partly from caprices of the fancy (nearly omnipotent with barbarians), and partly from an imperfect apprehension of general utility, the result of a narrow experience. Thus the diffusion and the advancement of ethical truth encounter great and peculiar obstacles, only to be removed by a better general education extended to the mass of the people. It is desirable that the community should be indoctrinated with sound views of property, and with the dependence of wealth, upon the true principle of population, discovered by Malthus, all which they are competent to understand.

The author refers to Paley's Moral Philosophy as an example of the perverting tendency of narrow and domineering interests in the domain of ethics. With many commendable points, there is, in that work, much ignoble truckling to the dominant and influential few, and a deal of shabby sophistry in defending abuses that the few were interested in upholding.

As a farther answer to the second objection, he remarks, that it applies to every theory of ethics that supposes our duties to be set by the Deity. Christianity itself is defective, considered as a system of rules for tho guidance of human conduct.

He then turns to the alternative of a Moral Sense. This involves two assumptions.

First, Certain sentiments, or feelings of approbation or disapprobation, accompany our conceptions of certain human actions. These feelings are neither the result of our reflection on the tendencies of actions, nor the result of education; the sentiments would follow the conception, although we had neither adverted to the good or evil tendency of the actions, nor become aware of the opinions of others regarding them. This theory denies that the sentiments known to exist can be produced by education. We approve and disapprove of actions we know not why.

The author adapts Paley's supposition of the savage, in order to express strongly what the moral sense implies. But we will confine ourselves to his reasonings. Is there, he asks, any evidence of our being gifted with such feelings? The very putting of such a question would seem a sufficient proof that we are not so endowed. There ought to be no more doubt about them, than about hunger or thirst.

It is alleged in their favour that our judgments of rectitude and depravity are immediate and voluntary. The reply is that sentiments begotten by association are no less prompt and involuntary than our instincts. Our response to a money gain, or a money loss, is as prompt as our compliance with the primitive appetites of the system. We begin by loving knowledge as a means to ends; but, in time, the end is inseparably associated with the instrument. So a moral sentiment dictated by utility, if often exercised, would be rapid and direct in its operation.

It is farther alleged, as a proof of the innate character of the moral judgments, that the moral sentiments of all men are precisely alike. The argument may be put thus:—No opinion or sentiment resulting from observation and induction is held or felt by all mankind: Observation and induction, as applied to the same subject, lead different men to different conclusions. Now, the judgments passed internally on the rectitude or pravity of actions, or the moral sentiments, are precisely alike with all men. Therefore, our moral sentiments are not the result of our inductions of the tendencies of actions; nor were they derived from others, and impressed by authority and example. Consequently, the moral sentiments are instinctive, or ultimate and inscrutable facts.

To refute such an argument is superfluous; it is based on a groundless assertion. The moral sentiments of men have differed to infinity. With regard to a few classes of actions, the moral judgments of most, though not of all, men have been alike. With regard to others, they have differed, through every shade or degree, from slight diversity to direct opposition.

But this is exactly what we should expect on the principle of utility. With regard to some actions, the dictates of utility are the same at all times and places, and are so obvious as hardly to admit of mistake or doubt. On the other hand, men's positions in different ages and nations are in many respects widely different; so that what was useful there and then is useless or pernicious here and now. Moreover, since human tastes are various, and human reason is fallible, men's moral sentiments often widely differ in the same positions.

He next alludes to some prevailing misconceptions in regard to utility. One is the confusion of the test with the motive. The general good is the test, or rather the index to the ultimate measure or test, the Divine commands; but it is not in all, or even in most cases, the motive or inducement.

The principle of utility does not demand that we shall always or habitually attend to the general good; although it does demand that we shall not pursue our own particular good by means that are inconsistent with that paramount object. It permits the pursuit of our own pleasures as pleasure. Even as regards the good of others, it commonly requires us to be governed by partial, rather than by general benevolence; by the narrower circle of family and friends rather than by the larger humanity that embraces mankind. It requires us to act where we act with the utmost effect; that is, within the sphere best known to us. The limitations to this principle, the adjustment of the selfish to the social motives, of partial sympathy to general benevolence, belong to the detail of ethics.

The second misconception of Utility is to confound it with a particular hypothesis concerning the Origin of Benevolence, commonly styled the selfish system. Hartley and some others having affirmed that benevolence is not an ultimate fact, but an emanation from self-love, through the association of ideas, it has been fancied that these writers dispute the existence of disinterested benevolence or sympathy. Now, the selfish system, in its literal import, is flatly inconsistent with obvious facts, but this is not the system contended for by the writers in question. Still, this distortion has been laid hold of by the opponents of utility, and maintained to be a necessary part of that system; hence the supporters of utility are styled 'selfish, sordid, and cold-blooded calculators.' But, as already said, the theory of utility is not a theory of motives; it holds equally good whether benevolence be what it is called, or merely a provident regard to self: whether it be a simple fact, or engendered by association on self-regard. Paley mixed up Utility with self-regarding motives; but his theory of these is miserably shallow and defective, and amounted to a denial of genuine benevolence or sympathy.

Austin's Fifth LECTURE is devoted to a full elucidation of the meanings of Law. He had, at the outset, made the distinction between Laws properly so called, and Laws improperly so called. Of the second class, some are closely allied to Laws proper, possessing in fact their main or essential attributes; others are laws only by metaphor. Laws proper, and those closely allied to them among laws proper, are divisible into three classes. The first are the Divine Law or Laws. The second is named Positive Law or Positive Laws; and corresponds with Legislation. The third he calls Positive Morality, or positive moral rules; it is the same as Morals or Ethics.

Reverting to the definition of Law, he gives the following three essentials:—1. Every law is a command, and emanates from a determinate source or another. 2. Every sanction is an eventual evil annexed to a command. 3. Every duty supposes a command whereby it is created. Now, tried by these tests, the laws of God are laws proper; so are positive laws, by which are meant laws established by monarchs as supreme political superiors, by subordinate political superiors, and by subjects, as private persons, in pursuance of legal rights.

But as regards Positive Morality, or moral rules, some have so far the essentials of an imperative law or rule, that they are rules set by men to men. But they are not set by men as political superiors, nor by men as private persons, in pursuance of legal rights; in this respect they differ from positive laws, they are not clothed with legal sanctions.

The most important department of positive morality includes the laws set or imposed by general opinion, as for example the laws of honour, and of fashion. Now these are not laws in the strict meaning of the word, because the authors are an indeterminate or uncertain aggregate of persons. Still, they have the closest alliance with Laws proper, seeing that being armed with a sanction, they impose a duty. The persons obnoxious to the sanction generally do or forbear the acts enjoined or forbidden; which is all that can happen under the highest type of law.

The author then refers to Locke's division of law, which, although faulty in the analysis, and inaptly expressed, tallies in the main with what he has laid down.

Of Metaphorical or figurative laws, the most usual is that suggested by the fact of uniformity, which is one of the ordinary consequences of a law proper. Such are the laws of nature, or the uniformities of co-existence and succession in natural phenomena.

Another metaphorical extension is to a model or pattern, because a law presents something as a guide to human conduct. In this sense, a man may set a law to himself, meaning a plan or model, and not a law in the proper sense of a command. So a rule of art is devoid of a sanction, and therefore of the idea of duty.

A confusion of ideas also exists as to the meaning of a sanction. Bentham styles the evils arising in the course of nature physical sanctions, as if the omission to guard against fire were a sin or an immorality, punished by the destruction of one's house. But although this is an evil happening to a rational being, and brought on by a voluntary act or omission, it is not the result of a law in the proper sense of the term. What is produced naturally, says Locke, is produced without the intervention of a law.

Austin is thus seen to be one of the most strenuous advocates of Utility as the Standard, and is distinguished for the lucidity of his exposition, and the force of his replies to the objections made against it.

He is also the best expounder of the relationship of Morality to Law.

WILLIAM WHEWELL. [1794-1866.]

Dr. Whewell's chief Ethical works are, 'Elements of Morality, including Polity,' and 'Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England.'

We may refer for his views to either work. The following abstract is taken from the latest (4th) edition of his Elements (1864).

In the Preface he indicates the general scope of the work. Morality has its root in the Common Nature of Man; a scheme of Morality must conform to the Common Sense of mankind, in so far as that is consistent with itself. Now, this Common Sense of Mankind has in every age led to two seemingly opposite schemes of Morality, the one making Virtue, and the other making Pleasure, the rule of action. On the one side, men urge the claims of Rectitude, Duty, Conscience, the Moral Faculty; on the other, they declare Utility, Expediency, Interest, Enjoyment, to be the proper guides.

Both systems are liable to objections. Against the scheme of Pleasure, it is urged that we never, in fact, identify virtue as merely useful. Against the scheme of Virtue, it is maintained that virtue is a matter of opinion, and that Conscience varies in different ages, countries, and persons. It is necessary that a scheme of Morality should surmount both classes of objections; and the author therefore attempts a reconciliation of the two opposing theories.

He prepares the way by asking, whether there are any actions, or qualities of actions, universally approved; and whether there are any moral rules accepted by the Common Sense of mankind as universally valid? The reply is that there are such, as, for example, the virtues termed Veracity, Justice, Benevolence. He does not enquire why these are approved; he accepts the fact of the approval, and considers that here we have the basis of a Moral System, not liable to either of the opposing objections above recited.

He supposes, however, that the alleged agreement may be challenged, first, as not existing; and next, as insufficient to reason from.

1. It may be maintained that the excellence of the three virtues named is not universally assented to; departures from them being allowed both in practice and in theory. The answer is, that the principles may be admitted, although the interpretation varies. Men allow Fidelity and Kindness to be virtues, although in an early stage of moral progress they do not make the application beyond their own friends; it is only at an advanced stage that they include enemies. The Romans at first held stranger and enemy to be synonymous; but afterwards they applauded the sentiment of the poet, homo sum, &c. Moral principles must be what we approve of, when we speak in the name of the whole human species.

2. It may be said that such principles are too vague and loose to reason from. A verbal agreement in employing the terms truthful, just, humane, does not prove a real agreement as to the actions; and the particulars must be held as explaining the generalities.

The author holds this objection to be erroneous; and the scheme of his work is intended to meet it. He proceeds as follows:—

He allows that we must fix what is meant by right, which carries with it the meaning of Virtue and of Duty. Now, in saying an action is right, there is this idea conveyed, namely, that we render such a reason for it, as shall be paramount to all other considerations. Right must be the Supreme Rule. How then are we to arrive at this rule?

The supreme rule is the authority over all the faculties and impulses; and is made up of the partial rules according to the separate faculties, powers, and impulses. We are to look, in the first instance, to the several faculties or departments of the mind; for, in connexion with each of these, we shall find an irresistible propriety inherent in the very nature of the faculty.

For example, man lives in the society of fellow-men; his actions derive their meaning from this position. He has the faculty of Speech, whereby his actions are connected with other men. Now, as man is under a supreme moral rule, [this the author appears to assume in the very act of proving it], there must be a rule of right as regards the use of Speech; which rule can be no other than truth and falsehood. In other words, veracity is a virtue.

Again, man, as a social being, has to divide with others the possession of the world, in other words, to possess Property; whence there must be a rule of Property, that is, each man is to have his own. Whence Justice is seen to be a virtue.

The author thinks himself at one with the common notions of mankind in pronouncing that the Faculty of Speech, the Desire of Possessions, and the Affections, are properly regulated, not by any extraneous purposes or ends to be served by them, but by Veracity, Justice, and Humanity, respectively.

He explains his position farther, by professing to follow Butler in the doctrine that, through the mere contemplation of our human faculties and springs of action, we can discern certain relations which must exist among them by the necessity of man's moral being. Butler maintains that, by merely comparing appetite with conscience as springs of action, we see conscience is superior and ought to rule; and Whewell conceives this to be self-evident, and expresses it by stating that the Lower parts of our nature are to be governed by the Higher. Men being considered as social beings, capable of mutual understanding through speech, it is self-evident that their rule must include veracity. In like manner, it is self-evident from the same consideration of social relationship, that each man should abstain from violence and anger towards others, that is, love his fellow men.

Remarking on the plea of the utilitarian, that truth may be justified by the intolerable consequences of its habitual violation, he urges that this is no reason against its being intuitively perceived; just as the axioms of geometry, although intuitively felt, are confirmed by showing the incongruities following on their denial. He repeats the common allegation in favour of a priori principles generally, that no consideration of evil consequences would give the sense of universality of obligation attaching to the fundamental moral maxims; and endeavours to show that his favourite antithesis of Idea and Fact conciliates the internal essence and the external conditions of morality. The Idea is invariable and universal; the Fact, or outward circumstances, may vary historically and geographically. Morality must in some measure be dependent on Law, but yet there is an Idea of Justice above law.

It very naturally occurred to many readers of Whewell's scheme, that in so far as he endeavours to give any reason for the foundations of morality, he runs in a vicious circle. He proposes to establish his supreme universal rule, by showing it to be only a summing up of certain rules swaying the several portions or departments of our nature—Veracity, Justice, &c., while, in considering the obligation of these rules, he assumes that man is a moral being, which is another way of saying that he is to be under a supreme moral rule. In his latest edition, the author has replied to this charge, but so briefly as to cast no new light on his position. He only repeats that the Supreme rule of Human Action is given by the constitution and conditions of human nature. His ethical principle may be not unfairly expressed by saying, that he recognizes a certain intrinsic fitness in exercising the organ of speech according to its social uses, that is, in promoting a right understanding among men; and so with Justice, as the fitness of property, and Humanity, as the fitness of the Affections. This fitness is intuitively felt. Human happiness is admitted to be a consequence of these rules; but happiness is not a sufficient end in itself; morality is also an end in itself. Human happiness is not to be conceived or admitted, except as containing a moral element; in addition to the direct gratifications of human life, we must include the delight of virtue. [How men can be compelled to postpone their pleasurable sense of the good things of life, till they have contracted a delight in virtue for its own sake, the author does not say. It has been the great object of moralists in all ages, to impart by education such a state of mind as to spoil the common gratifications, if they are viciously procured; the comparatively little success of the endeavour, shows that nature has done little to favour it.]

The foregoing is an abstract of the Introduction to the 4th Edition of the Elements of Morality. We shall present the author's views respecting the other questions of Morality in the form of the usual summary.

I.—As regards the Standard, enough has been already indicated.

II.—The Psychology of the Moral Faculty is given by Whewell as part of a classification of our Active Powers, or, as he calls them, Springs of Action. These are: I.—The Appetites or Bodily Desires, as Hunger and Thirst, and the desires of whatever things have been found to gratify the senses. II.—The Affections, which are directed to persons; they fall under the two heads Love and Anger. III.—The Mental Desires, having for their objects certain abstractions. They are the desire of Safety, including Security and Liberty; the desire of Having, or Property; the desire of Society in all its forms—Family Society and Civil Society, under which is included the need of Mutual Understanding; the desire of Superiority; and the Desire of Knowledge. IV.—The Moral Sentiments. Our judgment of actions as right or wrong is accompanied by certain Affections or Sentiments, named Approbation and Disapprobation, Indignation and Esteem; these are the Moral Sentiments. V.—The Reflex Sentiments, namely, the desires of being Loved, of Esteem or Admiration, of our own Approval; and generally all springs of action designated by the word self—for example, self-love.

With regard to the Moral Sentiment, or Conscience, in particular, the author's resolution of Morality into Moral Rules, necessarily supposes an exercise of the Reason, together with the Affections above described. He expressly mentions 'the Practical Reason, which guides us in applying Rules to our actions, and in discerning the consequences of actions.' He does not allow Individual Conscience as an ultimate or supreme authority, but requires it to be conformed to the Supreme Moral Rules, arrived at in the manner above described.

On the subject of Disinterestedness, he maintains a modification of Paley's selfish theory. He allows that some persons are so far disinterested as to be capable of benevolence and self-sacrifice, without any motive of reward or punishment; but 'to require that all persons should be such, would be not only to require what we certainly shall not find, but to put the requirements of our Morality in a shape in which it cannot convince men.' Accordingly, like Paley, he places the doctrine that 'to promote the happiness of others will lead to our own happiness,' exclusively on the ground of Religion. He honours the principle that 'virtue is happiness,' but prefers for mankind generally the form, 'virtue is the way to happiness.' In short, he places no reliance on the purely Disinterested impulses of mankind, although he admits the existence of such.

III.—He discusses the Summum Bonum, or Happiness, only with reference to his Ethical theory. The attaining of the objects of our desires yields Enjoyment or Pleasure, which cannot be the supreme end of life, being distinguished from, and opposed to, Duty. Happiness is Pleasure and Duty combined and harmonized by Wisdom. 'As moral beings, our Happiness must be found in our Moral Progress, and in the consequences of our Moral Progress; we must be happy by being virtuous.'

He complains of the moralists that reduce virtue to Happiness (in the sense of human pleasure), that they fail to provide a measure of happiness, or to resolve it into definite elements; and again urges the impossibility of calculating the whole consequences of an action upon human happiness.

IV.—With respect to the Moral Code, Whewell's arrangement is interwoven with his derivation of moral rules. He enumerates five Cardinal Virtues as the substance of morality:—BENEVOLENCE, which gives expansion to our Love; JUSTICE, as prescribing the measure of our Mental Desires; TRUTH, the law of Speech in connexion with its purpose; PURITY, the control of the Bodily Appetites; and ORDER (obedience to the Laws), which engages the Reason in the consideration of Rules and Laws for defining Virtue and Vice. Thus the five leading branches of virtue have a certain parallelism to the five chief classes of motives—Bodily Appetites, Mental Desires, Love and its opposite, the need of a Mutual Understanding, and Reason.

As already seen, he considers it possible to derive every one of these virtues from the consideration of man's situation with reference to each:—Benevolence, or Humanity, from our social relationship; Justice, from the nature of Property; Truth, from, the employment of Language for mutual Understanding; Purity, from considering the lower parts of our nature (the Appetites) as governed by the higher; and Order, from the relation of Governor and Governed. By a self-evident, intuitive, irresistible consideration of the circumstances of the case, we are led to these several virtues in the detail, and their sum is the Supreme Rule of Life.

Not content with these five express moral principles, he considers that the Supreme Law requires, as adjuncts, two other virtues; to these he gives the names EARNESTNESS, or Zeal, and MORAL PURPOSE, meaning that everything whatsoever should be done for moral ends.

V.—The relation of Ethics to Politics in Whewell's system is one of intimacy, and yet of independence. The Laws of States supply the materials of human action, by defining property, &c., for the time being; to which definitions morality must correspond. On the other hand, morality supplies the Idea, or ideal, of Justice, to which the Laws of Society should progressively conform themselves. The Legislator and the Jurist must adapt their legislation to the point of view of the Moralist; and the moralist, while enjoining obedience to their dictates, should endeavour to correct the inequalities produced by laws, and should urge the improvement of Law, to make it conformable to morality. The Moral is in this way contrasted with the Jural, a useful word of the author's coining. He devotes a separate Book, entitled 'Rights and Obligations,' to the foundations of Jurisprudence. He makes a five-fold division of Rights, grounded on his classification of the Springs of Human Action; Rights of Personal Security, Property, Contract, Marriage, Government; and justifies this division as against others proposed by jurists.

VI.—He introduces the Morality of Religion as a supplement to the Morality of Reason. The separation of the two, he remarks, 'enables us to trace the results of the moral guidance of human Reason consistently and continuously, while we still retain a due sense of the superior authority of Religion.' As regards the foundations of Natural and Revealed Religion, he adopts the line of argument most usual with English Theologians.

JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER. [1808-64.]

In his 'Lectures on Greek Philosophy' (Remains, Vol. I.), Ferrier has indicated his views on the leading Ethical controversies.

These will appear, if we select his conclusions, on the three following points:—The Moral Sense, the nature of Sympathy, and the Summum Bonum.

1. He considers that the Sophists first distinctly broached the question—What is man by nature, and what is he by convention or fashion?

'This prime question of moral philosophy, as I have called it, is no easy one to answer, for it is no easy matter to effect the discrimination out of which the answer must proceed. It is a question, perhaps, to which no complete, but only an approximate, answer can be returned. One common mistake is to ascribe more to the natural man than properly belongs to him, to ascribe to him attributes and endowments which belong only to the social and artificial man. Some writers—Hutcheson, for example, and he is followed by many others—are of opinion that man naturally has a conscience or moral sense which discriminates between right and wrong, just as he has naturally a sense of taste, which distinguishes between sweet and bitter, and a sense of sight, which discriminates between red and blue, or a sentient organism, which distinguishes between pleasure and pain. That man has by nature, and from the first, the possibility of attaining to a conscience is not to be denied. That lie has within him by birthright something out of which conscience is developed, I firmly believe; and what this is I shall endeavour by-and-by to show when I come to speak of Sokrates and his philosophy as opposed to the doctrines of the Sophists. But that the man is furnished by nature with a conscience ready-made, just as he is furnished with a ready-made sensational apparatus, this is a doctrine in which I have no faith, and which I regard as altogether erroneous. It arises out of the disposition to attribute more to the natural man than properly belongs to him. The other error into which inquirers are apt to fall in making a discrimination between what man is by nature, and what he is by convention, is the opposite of the one just mentioned. They sometimes attribute to the natural man less than properly belongs to him. And this, I think, was the error into which the Sophists were betrayed. They fall into it inadvertently, and not with any design of embracing or promulgating erroneous opinions.'

2. With reference to SYMPATHY, he differs from Adam Smith's view, that it is a native and original affection of the heart, like hunger and thirst. Mere feeling, he contends, can never take a man out of self. It is thought that overleaps this boundary; not the feeling of sensation, but the thought of one's self and one's sensations, gives the ground and the condition of sympathy. Sympathy has self-consciousness for its foundation. Very young children have little sympathy, because in them the idea of self is but feebly developed.

3. In his chapter on the Cynic and Cyrenaic schools, he discusses at length the summum bonum, or Happiness, and, by implication, the Ethical end, or Standard. He considers that men have to keep in view two ends; the one the maintenance of their own nature, as rational and thinking beings; the other their happiness or pleasure. He will not allow that we are to do right at all hazards, irrespective of utility; yet he considers that there is something defective in the scheme that sets aside virtue as the good, and enthrones happiness in its place. He sums up as follows:—

'We thus see that a complete body of ethics should embrace two codes, two systems of rules, the one of which we may call the fundamental or antecedent, or under-ground ethics, as underlying the other; and the other of which we may call the upper or subsequent, or above-ground ethics, as resting on, and modified by the former. The under-ground ethics would inculcate on man the necessity of being what he truly is, namely, a creature of reason and of thought; in short, the necessity of being a man, and of preserving to himself this status. Here the end is virtue, that is, the life and health of the soul, and nothing but this. The above-ground ethics would inculcate on man the necessity of being a happy man.

It is not enough for man to be; he must, moreover, if possible, be happy. The fundamental ethics look merely to his being, i.e., his being rational; the upper ethics look principally to his being happy, but they are bound to take care that in all his happiness he does nothing to violate his rationality, the health and virtue of the soul.'

HENRY LONGUEVILLE/MANSEL.

Mr. Mansel, in his 'Metaphysics,' has examined the question of a moral standard, and the nature of the moral faculty, accepting, with slight and unimportant modifications, the current theory of a moral sense.

1. The Moral Faculty. That the conceptions of right and wrong are sui generis, is proved (1) by the fact that in all languages there are distinct terms for 'right' and 'agreeable;' (2) by the testimony of consciousness; and (3) by the mutual inconsistencies of the antagonists of a moral sense. The moral faculty is not identical with Reason; for the understanding contributes to truth only one of its elements, namely, the concept; in addition, the concept must agree with the fact as presented in intuition. The moral sense is usually supposed to involve the perception of qualities only in so far as they are pleasing or displeasing. To this representation Mr. Mansel objects. In an act of moral consciousness two things are involved: a perception or judgment, and a sentiment or feeling. But the judgment itself may be farther divided into two parts: 'the one, an individual fact, presented now and here; the other, a general law, valid always and everywhere.' This is the distinction between presentative and representative Knowledge. In every act of consciousness there is some individual fact presented, and an operation of the understanding. 'A conscious act of pure moral sense, like a conscious act of pure physical sense, if it ever takes place at all, takes place at a time of which we have no remembrance, and of which we can give no account.' The intuitive element may be called conscience; the representing element is the understanding. On another point he differs from the ordinary theory. It is commonly said that we immediately perceive the moral character of acts, whether by ourselves or by others. But this would implicate two facts, neither of which we can be conscious of: (1) a law binding on a certain person, and (2) his conduct as agreeing or disagreeing with that law. Now, I can infer the existence of such a law only by representing his mind as constituted like my own. We can, in fact, immediately perceive moral qualities only in our own actions.

2. The Moral Standard. This is treated as a branch of Ontology, and designated the 'Real in morality,' He declares that Kant's notion of an absolute moral law, binding by its inherent power over the mind, is a mere fiction. The difference between inclination and the moral imperative is merely a difference between lower and higher pleasure. The moral law can have no authority unless imposed by a superior, as a law emanating from a lawgiver. If man is not accountable to some higher being, there is no distinction between duty and pleasure. The standard of right and wrong is the moral nature (not the arbitrary will) of God.[25] Now, as we cannot know God—an infinite being,—so we have but a relative conception of morality. We may have lower and higher ideas of duty. Morality therefore admits of progress. But no advance in morality contradicts the principles previously acknowledged, however it may vary the acts whereby those principles are carried out. And each advance takes its place in the mind, not as a question to be supported by argument, but as an axiom to be intuitively admitted. Each principle appears true and irreversible so far as it goes, but it is liable to be merged in a more comprehensive formula. It is an error of philosophers to imagine that they have an absolute standard of morals, and thereupon to set out a priori the criterion of a possibly true revelation. Kant said that the revealed commands of God could have no religious value, unless approved by the moral reason; and Fichte held that no true revelation could contain any intimation of future rewards and punishments, or any moral rule not deducible from the principles of the practical reason. But revelation has enlightened the practical reason, as by the maxim—to love God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thyself—a maxim, says Mr. Mansel, that philosophy in vain toiled after, and subsequently borrowed without acknowledgment.

JOHN STUART MILL.

Mr. J.S. Mill examines the basis of Ethics in a small work entitled Utilitarianism.

After a chapter of General Remarks, he proposes (Chapter II.) to enquire, What Utilitarianism is? This creed holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain, and the privation of pleasure. The things included under pleasure and pain may require farther explanation; but this does not affect the general theory. To the accusation that pleasure is a mean and grovelling object of pursuit, the answer is, that human beings are capable of pleasures that are not grovelling. It is compatible with utility to recognize some kinds of pleasure as more valuable than others. There are pleasures that, irrespective of amount, are held by all persons that have experienced them to be preferable to others. Few human beings would consent to become beasts, or fools, or base, in consideration of a greater allowance of pleasure. Inseparable from the estimate of pleasure is a sense of dignity, which determines a preference among enjoyments.

But this distinction in kind is not essential to the justification of the standard of Utility. That standard is not the agent's own greatest happiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether. However little the higher virtues might contribute to one's own happiness, there can be no doubt that the world in general gains by them.

Another objection to the doctrine is, that happiness is a thing unattainable, and that no one has a right to it. Not only can men do without happiness, but renunciation is the first condition of all nobleness of character.

In reply, the author remarks that, supposing happiness impossible, the prevention of unhappiness might still be an object, which is a mode of Utility. But the alleged impossibility of happiness is either a verbal quibble or an exaggeration. No one contends for a life of sustained rapture; occasional moments of such, in an existence of few and transitory pains, many and various pleasures, with a predominance of the active over the passive, and moderate expectations on the whole, constitute a life worthy to be called happiness. Numbers of mankind have been satisfied with much less. There are two great factors of enjoyment—tranquillity and excitement. With the one, little pleasure will suffice; with the other, considerable pain can be endured. It does not appear impossible to secure both in alternation. The principal defect in persons of fortunate lot is to care for nobody but themselves; this curtails the excitements of life, and makes everything dwindle as the end approaches. Another circumstance rendering life unsatisfactory is the want of mental cultivation, by which men are deprived of the inexhaustible pleasures of knowledge, not merely in the shape of science, but as practice and fine art. It is not at all difficult to indicate sources of happiness; the main stress of the problem lies in the contest with the positive evils of life, the great sources of physical and of mental suffering—indigence, disease, and the unkindness, worthlessness, or premature loss of objects of affection. Poverty and Disease may be contracted in dimensions; and even vicissitudes of fortune are not wholly beyond control.

It is unquestionably possible to do without happiness. This is the lot of the greater part of mankind, and is often voluntarily chosen by the hero or the martyr. But self-sacrifice is not its own end; it must be made to earn for others immunity from sacrifice. It must be a very imperfect state of the world's arrangements that requires any one to serve the happiness of others by the absolute sacrifice of their own; yet undoubtedly while the world is in that imperfect state, the readiness to make such a sacrifice is the highest virtue that can be found in man. Nay, farther, the conscious ability to do without happiness, in such a condition of the world, is the best prospect of realizing such happiness as is attainable. Meanwhile, self-devotion belongs as much to the Utilitarian as to the Stoic or the Transcendentalist; with the reservation that a sacrifice not tending to increase the sum of happiness is to be held as wasted. The golden rule, do as you would be done by, is the ideal perfection of utilitarian morality. The means of approaching this ideal are, first, that laws and society should endeavour to place the interest of the individual in harmony with the interest of the whole; and, secondly, that education and opinion should establish in the mind of each individual an indissoluble association between his own good and the good of the whole.

The system of Utility is objected to, on another side, as being too high for humanity; men cannot be perpetually acting with a view to the general interests of society. But this is to mistake the meaning of a standard, and to confound the rule of action with the motive. Ethics tells us what are our duties, or by what test we are to know them; but no system of ethics requires that the motive of every action should be a feeling of duty; our actions are rightly done provided only duty does not condemn them. The great majority of actions have nothing to do with the good of the world—they end with the individual; it happens to few persons, and that rarely, to be public benefactors. Private utility is in the mass of cases all that we have to attend to. As regards abstinences, indeed, it would be unworthy of an intelligent agent not to be aware that the action is one that, if practised generally, would be generally injurious, and to not feel a sense of obligation on that ground; but such an amount of regard for the general interest is required under every system of morals.

It is farther alleged against Utility, that it renders men cold and unsympathizing, chills the moral feelings towards individuals, and regards only the dry consequences of actions, without reference to the moral qualities of the agent. The author replies that Utility, like any other system, admits that a right action does not necessarily indicate a virtuous character. Still, he contends, in the long run, the best proof of a good character is good actions. If the objection means that utilitarians do not lay sufficient stress on the beauties of character, he replies that this is the accident of persons cultivating their moral feelings more than their sympathies and artistic perceptions, and may occur under every view of the foundation of morals.

The next objection considered is that Utility is a godless doctrine. The answer is, that whoever believes in the perfect goodness and wisdom of God, necessarily believes that whatever he has thought fit to reveal on the subject of morals must fulfil the requirements of utility in a supreme degree.

Again, Utility is stigmatized as an immoral doctrine, by carrying out Expediency in opposition to Principle. But the Expedient in this sense means what is expedient for the agent himself, and, instead of being the same thing with the useful, is a branch of the hurtful. It would often be expedient to tell a lie, but so momentous and so widely extended are the utilities of truth, that veracity is a rule of transcendent expediency. Yet all moralists admit exceptions to it, solely on account of the manifest inexpediency of observing it on certain occasions.

The author does not omit to notice the usual charge that it is impossible to make a calculation of consequences previous to every action, which is as much as to say that no one can be under the guidance of Christianity, because there is not time, on the occasion of doing anything, to read through the Old and New Testaments. The real answer is (substantially the same as Austin's) that there has been ample time during the past duration of the species. Mankind have all that time been learning by experience the consequences of actions; on that experience they have founded both their prudence and their morality. It is an inference from the principle of utility, which regards morals as a practical art, that moral rules are improvable; but there exists under the ultimate principle a number of intermediate generalizations, applicable at once to the emergencies of human conduct. Nobody argues that navigation is not founded on astronomy, because sailors cannot wait to calculate the Nautical Almanack.

As to the stock argument, that people will pervert utility for their private ends, Mr. Mill challenges the production of any ethical creed where this may not happen. The fault is due, not to the origin of the rules, but to the complicated nature of human affairs, and the necessity of allowing a certain latitude, under the moral responsibility of the agent, for accommodation to circumstances. And in cases of conflict, utility is a better guide than anything found in systems whose moral laws claim independent authority.

Chapter III. considers the ULTIMATE SANCTION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY.

It is a proper question with regard to a supposed moral standard,—What is its sanction? what is the source of its obligation? wherein lies its binding force? The customary morality is consecrated by education and opinion, and seems to be obligatory in itself; but to present, as the source of obligation, some general principle, not surrounded by the halo of consecration, seems a paradox; the superstructure seems to stand better without such a foundation. This difficulty belongs to every attempt to reduce morality to first principles, unless it should happen that the principle chosen has as much sacredness as any of its applications.

Utility has, or might have, all the sanctions attaching to any other system of morals. Those sanctions are either External or Internal. The External are the hope of favour and the fear of displeasure (1) from our fellow-creatures, or (2) from the Ruler of the Universe, along with any sympathy or affection for them, or love and awe of Him, inclining us apart from selfish motives. There is no reason why these motives should not attach themselves to utilitarian morality.

The Internal Sanction, under every standard of duty, is of one uniform character—a feeling in our own mind; a pain, more or less intense, attendant on violation of duty, which in properly cultivated moral natures rises, in the more serious cases, into shrinking from it as an impossibility. This feeling, when disinterested, and connecting itself with the pure idea of duty, is the essence of Conscience; a complex phenomenon, involving associations from sympathy, from love, and still more from fear; from the recollections of childhood, and of all our past life; from self-esteem, desire of the esteem of others, and occasionally even self-abasement. This extreme complication is an obstacle to our supposing that it can attach to other objects than what are found at present to excite it. The binding force, however, is the mass of feeling to be broken through in order to violate our standard of right, and which, if we do violate that standard, will have to be afterwards encountered as remorse.

Thus, apart from external sanctions, the ultimate sanction, under Utility, is the same as for other standards, namely, the conscientious feelings of mankind. If there be anything innate in conscience, there is nothing more likely than that it should be a regard to the pleasures and pains of others. If so, the intuitive ethics would be the same as the utilitarian; and it is admitted on all hands that a large portion of morality turns upon what is due to the interests of fellow-creatures.

On the other hand, if, as the author believes, the moral feelings are not innate, they are not for that reason less natural. It is natural to man to speak, to reason, to cultivate the ground, to build cities, though these are acquired faculties. So the moral faculty, if not a part of our nature, is a natural outgrowth of it; capable, in a certain small degree, of springing up spontaneously, and of being brought to a high pitch by means of cultivation. It is also susceptible, by the use of the external sanctions and the force of early impressions, of being cultivated in almost any direction, and of being perverted to absurdity and mischief.

The basis of natural sentiment capable of supporting the utilitarian morality is to be found in the social feelings of mankind. The social state is so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man, that he can hardly conceive himself otherwise than as a member of society; and as civilization advances, this association becomes more firmly riveted. All strengthening of social ties, and all healthy growth of society, give to each individual a stronger personal interest in consulting the welfare of others. Each comes, as though instinctively, to be conscious of himself as a being that of course pays regard to others. There is the strongest motive in each person to manifest this sentiment, and, even if he should not feel it strongly himself, to cherish it in everybody else. The smallest germs of the feeling are thus laid hold of, and nourished by the contagion of sympathy and the influences of education; and by the powerful agency of the external sanctions there is woven around it a complete web of corroborative association. In an improving state of society, the influences are on the increase that generate in each individual a feeling of unity with all the rest; which, if perfect, would make him never think of anything for self, if they also were not included. Suppose, now, that this feeling of unity were taught as a religion, and that the whole force of education, of institutions, and of opinion, were directed to make every person grow up surrounded with the profession and the practice of it; can there be any doubt as to the sufficiency of the ultimate sanction for the Happiness morality?

Even in our present low state of advancement, the deeply-rooted conception that each individual has of himself as a social being tends to make him wish to be in harmony with his fellow-creatures. The feeling may be, in most persons, inferior in strength to the selfish feelings, and may be altogether wanting; but to such as possess it, it has all the characters of a natural feeling, and one that they would not desire to be without.

Chapter IV. is OF WHAT SORT OF PROOF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY is susceptible. Questions about ends are questions as to what things are desirable. According to the theory of Utility, happiness is desirable as an end; all other things are desirable as means. What is the proof of this doctrine?

As the proof, that the sun is visible, is that people actually see it, so the proof that happiness is desirable, is that people do actually desire it. No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable, beyond the fact that each one desires their own happiness.

But granting that people desire happiness as one of their ends of conduct, do they never desire anything else? To all appearance they do; they desire virtue, and the absence of vice, no less surely than pleasure and the absence of pain. Hence the opponents of utility consider themselves entitled to infer that happiness is not the standard of moral approbation and disapprobation.

But the utilitarians do not deny that virtue is a thing to be desired. The very reverse. They maintain that it is to be desired, and that for itself. Although considering that what makes virtue is the tendency to promote happiness, yet they hold that the mind is not in a right state, not in a state conformable to Utility, not in the state conducive to the general happiness, unless it has adopted this essential instrumentality so warmly as to love it for its own sake. It is necessary to the carrying out of utility that certain things, originally of the nature of means, should come by association to be a part of the final end. Thus health is but a means, and yet we cherish it as strongly as we do any of the ultimate pleasures and pains. So virtue is not originally an end, but it is capable of becoming so; it is to be desired and cherished not solely as a means to happiness, but as a part of happiness.

The notorious instance of money exemplifies this operation. The same may be said of power and fame; although these are ends as well as means. We should be but ill provided with happiness, were it not for this provision of nature, whereby, things, originally indifferent, but conducive to the satisfaction of our primitive desires, become in themselves sources of pleasure, of even greater value than the primitive pleasures, both in permanency and in the extent of their occupation of our life. Virtue is originally valuable as bringing pleasure and avoiding pain; but by association it may be felt as a good in itself, and be desired as intensely as any other good; with this superiority over money, power, or fame, that it makes the individual a blessing to society, while these others may make him a curse.

With the allowance thus made for the effect of association, the author considers it proved that there is in reality nothing desired except happiness. Whatever is desired otherwise than as a means to some end beyond itself, and ultimately to happiness, is not desired for itself till it has become such. Human nature is so constituted, he thinks, that we desire nothing but what is either a part of happiness or a means of happiness; and no other proof is required that these are the only things desirable. Whether this psychological assertion be correct, must be determined by the self-consciousness and observation of the most practised observers of human nature.

It may be alleged that, although desire always tends to happiness, yet Will, as shown by actual conduct, is different from desire. We persist in a course of action long after the original desire has faded. But this is merely an instance of that familiar fact, the power of habit, and is nowise confined to the virtuous actions. Will is amenable to habit; we may will from habit what we no longer desire for itself, or desire only because we will it. But the will is the child of desire, and passes out of the dominion of its parent only to come under the sway of habit. What is the result of habit may not be intrinsically good; we might think it better for virtue that habit did not come in, were it not that the other influences are not sufficiently to be depended on for unerring constancy, until they have acquired this farther support.

Chapter V. is ON THE CONNEXION BETWEEN JUSTICE AND UTILITY.

The strongest obstacle to the doctrine of Utility has been drawn from the Idea of Justice. The rapid perception and the powerful sentiment connected with the Just, seem to show it as generically distinct from every variety of the Expedient.

To see whether the sense of justice can be explained on grounds of Utility, the author begins by surveying in the concrete the things usually denominated just. In the first place, it is commonly considered unjust to deprive any one of their personal liberty, or property, or anything secured to them by law: in other words, it is unjust to violate any one's legal rights. Secondly, The legal rights of a man may be such as ought not to have belonged to him; that is, the law conferring those rights may be a bad law. When a law is bad, opinions will differ as to the justice or injustice of infringing it; some think that no law should be disobeyed by the individual citizen; others hold that it is just to resist unjust laws. It is thus admitted by all that there is such a thing as moral right, the refusal of which is injustice. Thirdly, it is considered just that each person should receive what he deserves (whether good or evil). And a person is understood to deserve good if he does right, evil if he does wrong; and in particular to deserve good in return for good, and evil in return for evil. Fourthly, it is unjust to break faith, to violate an engagement, or disappoint expectations knowingly and voluntarily raised. Like other obligations, this is not absolute, but may be overruled by some still stronger demand of justice on the other side. Fifthly, it is inconsistent with justice to be partial; to show favour or preference in matters where favour does not apply. We are expected in certain cases to prefer our friends to strangers; but a tribunal is bound to the strictest impartiality; rewards and punishments should be administered impartially; so likewise the patronage of important public offices. Nearly allied to impartiality is the idea of equality. The justice of giving equal protection to the rights of all is maintained even when the rights themselves are very unequal, as in slavery and in the system of ranks or castes. There are the greatest differences as to what is equality in the distribution of the produce of labour; some thinking that all should receive alike; others that the neediest should receive most; others that the distribution should be according to labour or services.

To get a clue to the common idea running through all these meanings, the author refers to the etymology of the word, which, in most languages, points to something ordained by law. Even although there be many things considered just, that we do not usually enforce by law, yet in these cases it would give us pleasure if law could be brought to bear upon offenders. When we think a person bound in justice to do a thing, we should like to see him punished for not doing it; we lament the obstacles that may be in the way, and strive to make amends by a strong expression of our own opinion. The idea of legal constraint is thus the generating idea of justice throughout all its transformations.

The real turning point between morality and simple expediency is contained in the penal sanction. Duty is what we may exact of a person; there may be reasons why we do not exact it, but the person himself would not be entitled to complain if we did so. Expediency, on the other hand, points to things that we may wish people to do, may praise them for doing, and despise them for not doing, while we do not consider it proper to bring in the aid of punishment.

There enters farther into the idea of Justice what has been expressed by the ill-chosen phrase, 'perfect obligation,' meaning that the duty involves a moral right on the part of some definite person, as in the case of a debt; an imperfect obligation is exemplified by charity, which gives no legal claim to any one recipient. Every such right is a case of Justice, and not of Beneficence.

The Idea of Justice is thus shown to be grounded in Law; and the next question is, does the strong feeling or sentiment of Justice grow out of considerations of utility? Mr. Mill conceives that though the notion of expediency or utility does not give birth to the sentiment, it gives birth to what is moral in it.

The two essentials of justice are (1) the desire to punish some one, and (2) the notion or belief that harm has been done to some definite individual or individuals. Now, it appears to the author that the desire to punish is a spontaneous outgrowth of two sentiments, both natural, and, it may be, instinctive; the impulse of self-defence, and the feeling of sympathy. We naturally resent, repel, and retaliate, any harm done to ourselves and to any one that engages our sympathies. There is nothing moral in mere resentment; the moral part is the subordination of it to our social regards. We are moral beings, in proportion as we restrain our private resentment whenever it conflicts with the interests of society. All moralists agree with Kant in saying that no act is right that could not be adopted as a law by all rational beings (that is, consistently with the well-being of society).

There is in Justice a rule of conduct, and a right on the part of some one, which right ought to be enforced by society. If it is asked why society ought to enforce the right, there is no answer but the general utility. If that expression seem feeble and inadequate to account for the energy of retaliation inspired by injustice, the author asks us to advert to the extraordinarily important and impressive kind of utility that is concerned. The interest involved is security, to every one's feelings the most vital of all interests. All other earthly benefits needed by one person are not needed by another; and many of them can, if necessary, be cheerfully foregone, or replaced by something else; but security no human being can possibly do without; on it we depend for all our immunity from evil, and for the whole value of all and every good, beyond the passing moment. Now, this most indispensable of all necessaries, after physical nutriment, cannot be had unless the machinery for providing it is kept unintermittedly in active play. Our notion, therefore, of the claim we have on our fellow-creatures to join in making safe for us the very groundwork of our existence, gathers feelings around it so much more intense than those concerned in any of the more common cases of utility, that the difference in degree (as is often the case in psychology) becomes a real difference in kind. The claim assumes that character of absoluteness, that apparent infinity, and incommensurability with all other considerations, which constitute the distinction between the feeling of right and wrong, and that of ordinary expediency and inexpediency.

Having presented his own analysis of the sentiment of Justice, the author proceeds to examine the intuitive theory. The charge is constantly brought against Utility, that it is an uncertain standard, differently interpreted by each person. The only safety, it is pretended, is found in the immutable, ineffaceable, and unmistakeable dictates of Justice, carrying their evidence in themselves, and independent of the fluctuations of opinions. But so far is this from being the fact, that there is as much difference of opinion, and as much discussion, about what is just, as about what is useful to society.

To take a few instances. On the question of Punishment, some hold it unjust to punish any one by way of example, or for any end but the good of the sufferer. Others maintain that the good of the society is the only admissible end of punishment. Robert Owen affirms that punishment altogether is unjust, and that we should deal with crime only through education. Now, without an appeal to expediency, it is impossible to arbitrate among these conflicting views; each one has a maxim of justice on its side. Then as to the apportioning of punishments to offences. The rule that recommends itself to the primitive sentiment of justice is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; a rule formally abandoned in European countries, although not without its hold upon the popular mind. With many, the test of justice, in penal infliction, is that it should be proportioned to the offence; while others maintain that it is just to inflict only such an amount of punishment as will deter from the commission of the offence.

Besides the differences of opinion already alluded to, as to the payment of labour, how many, and irreconcileable, are the standards of justice appealed to on the matter of taxation? One opinion is, that taxes should be in proportion to pecuniary means; others think the wealthy should pay a higher proportion. In point of natural justice, a case might be made out for disregarding means, and taking the same sum from each, as the privileges are equally bestowed: yet from feelings of humanity and social expediency no one advocates that view. So that there is no mode of extricating the question but the utilitarian.

To sum up. The great distinction between, the Just and the Expedient is the distinction between the essentials of well-being—the moral rules forbidding mankind to hurt one another—and the rules that only point out the best mode of managing some department of human affairs. It is in the higher moralities of protection from harm that each individual has the greatest stake; and they are the moralities that compose the obligations of justice. It is on account of these that punishment, or retribution of evil for evil, is universally included in the idea. For the carrying out of the process of retaliation, certain maxims are necessary as instruments or as checks to abuse; as that involuntary acts are not punishable; that no one shall be condemned unheard; that punishment should be proportioned to the offence. Impartiality, the first of judicial virtues, is necessary to the fulfilment of the other conditions of justice: while from the highest form of doing to each according to their deserts, it is the abstract standard of social and distributive justice; and is in this sense a direct emanation from the first principle of morals, the principle of the greatest Happiness. All social inequalities that have ceased to be considered as expedient, assume the character, not of simple inexpediency, but of injustice.

Besides the 'Utilitarianism,' Mr. Mill's chief Ethical dissertations are his review of Whewell's Moral Treatises (Dissertations and Discussions, Vol. II.), and parts of his Essay on Liberty. By collecting his views generally under the usual heads, we shall find a place for some points additional to what are given in the foregoing abstract.

I.—Enough has been stated as to his Ethical Standard, the Principle of Utility.

II.—We have seen his Psychological explanation of the Moral Faculty, as a growth from certain elementary feelings of the mind.

He has also discussed extensively the Freedom of the Will, maintaining the strict causation of human actions, and refuting the supposed fatalistic tendency of the doctrine.

He believes, as we have seen, in Disinterested impulses, but traces them to a purely self-regarding origin.

III.—He does not give any formal dissertation on Human Happiness, but indicates many of its important conditions, as in the remarks cited above, p. 702. In the chapter of the work on 'Liberty,' entitled Individuality, he illustrates the great importance of special tastes, and urges the full right of each person to the indulgence of these in every case where they do not directly injure others. He reclaims against the social tyranny prevailing on such points as dress, personal habits, and eccentricities.

IV.—As regards the Moral Code, he would repeal the legal and moral rule that makes marriage irrevocable. He would also abolish all restraints on freedom of thought, and on Individuality of conduct, qualified as above stated.

He would impose two new moral restraints. He considers that every parent should be bound to provide a suitable education for his own children. Farther, for any one to bring into the world human beings without the means of supporting them, or, in an over-peopled country, to produce children in such number as to depress the reward of labour by competition, he regards as serious offences.

SAMUEL BAILEY.

Mr. Samuel Bailey devotes the last four in his Third Series of 'Letters on the Philosophy of the Human Mind,' to the subject of the Moral Sentiments, or the feelings inspired in us by human conduct. He first sets down five facts in the human constitution, in which moral phenomena originate—

1. Man is susceptible of pleasure and pain of various kinds and degrees.

2. He likes and dislikes respectively the causes of them.

3. He desires to reciprocate pleasure and pain received, when intentionally given by other sentient beings.

4. He himself expects such reciprocation from his fellows, coveting it in the one case, and shunning it in the other.

5. He feels, under certain circumstances, more or less sympathy with the pleasures and pains given to others, accompanied by a proportionate desire that those affections should be reciprocated to the givers.

These rudimentary affections, states and operations of consciousness [he is careful to note that, besides feelings, intellectual conditions and processes are involved in them] are found more or less developed in all, or nearly all the human race. In support of the limitation now made, he adduces what are given as authentic accounts of savages devoid of all gratitude and fellow-feeling; and then goes on to trace the nature and development of moral sentiment from the rudimentary powers and susceptibilities mentioned, in those that do possess them. In doing so, he follows the convenient mode of speech that takes actions for the objects that excite the susceptibilities, although, in reality, the objects are no other than human beings acting in particular ways.

The feelings he supposes to be modified in manner or degree, according as actions are (1) done by ourselves to others, or (2) done to others by others, or (3) done to others by ourselves; i.e., according as we ourselves are the subjects, the spectators, or doers of them.

First, then, he considers our feelings in regard to actions done to us by others, and the more carefully, because these lie at the foundation of the rest. When a fellow-creature intentionally contributes to our pleasure, we feel the pleasure; we feel a liking to the person intentionally conferring it, and we feel an inclination to give him pleasure in return. The two last feelings—liking and inclination to reciprocate, constitute the simplest form of moral approbation; in the contrary case, dislike and resentment give the rudimentary form of moral disapprobation. It is enough to excite the feelings, that the actions are merely thought to be done by the person. They are moral sentiments, even although it could be supposed that there were no other kinds of actions in the world except actions done to ourselves; but they are moral sentiments in the purely selfish form. That, for moral sentiment, mere liking and disliking must be combined with the desire to reciprocate good and evil, appears on a comparison of our different feelings towards animate and inanimate causes of pleasure and pain; there being towards inanimate objects no desire of reciprocation. To a first objection, that the violent sentiments, arising upon actions done to ourselves, should not get the temperate designation of moral approbation and disapprobation, he replies, that such extremes as the passions of gratitude and resentment must yet be identified in their origin with our cooler feelings, when we are mere spectators or actors. A second objection, that the epithet moral is inapplicable to sentiments involving purely personal feeling, and destitute of sympathy, he answers, by remarking that the word moral, in philosophy, should not eulogistically be opposed to immoral, but should be held as neutral, and to mean 'relating to conduct, whatever that conduct may be.' He closes the first head with the observation, that in savage life the violent desire of reciprocation is best seen; generally, however, as he gives instances to show, in the form of revenge and reciprocation of evil.

In the second place, he considers our feelings when we are spectators of actions done to others by others. These form the largest class of actions, but to us they have a meaning, for the most part at least, only as they have an analogy to actions done to ourselves. The variety of the resulting feelings, generally less intense than when we are the subjects of the actions, is illustrated first by supposing the persons affected to be those we love; in this case, the feelings are analogous to those already mentioned, and they may be even more intense than when we ourselves are personally affected. If those affected are indifferent to us, our feelings are less intense, but we are still led to feel as before, from a natural sympathy with other men's pains and pleasures—always supposing the sympathy is not (as often happens) otherwise counteracted or superseded; and also from the influence of association, if that, too, happen not to be countervailed. Of sympathy for human beings in general, he remarks that a certain measure of civilization seems required to bring it properly out, and he cites instances to prove how much it is wanting in savages. In a third case, where the persons affected are supposed to be those we hate, we are displeased when they are made to rejoice, and pleased when they suffer, unless we are overcome by our habitual associations with good and evil actions. Such associations weigh least with rude and savage peoples, but even the most civilized nations disregard them in times of war.

He takes up, in the third place, actions done by ourselves to others. Here, when the action is beneficent, the peculiarity is that an expectation of receiving good in return from our neighbours takes the place of a desire to reciprocate; we consider ourselves the proper object of grateful thoughts, &c., on the part both of receiver and of spectators. We are affected with the gratification of a benevolent desire, with self-complacency, and with undefined hopes. When we have inflicted injury, there is the expectation of evil, and a combination of feelings summed up in the word Remorse. But Remorse, like other sentiments, may fail in the absence of cultivation of mind or under special circumstances.

Having considered the three different kinds of actions separately, he next remarks that the sentiment prevailing in each case must be liable to a reflex influence from the other cases, whereby it will be strengthened or intensified; thus we come to associate certain intensities of moral sentiment with certain kinds of action, by whomsoever or to whomsoever performed. He also notes, that in the first and third cases, as well as in the second, there is a variation of the sentiment, according as the parties affected are friends, neutrals, or enemies. Finally, a peculiar and important modification of the sentiments results from the outward manifestations of them called forth from the persons directly or indirectly affected by actions. Such are looks, gestures, tones, words, or actions, being all efforts to gratify the natural desire of reciprocating pleasure or pain. Of these the most notable are the verbal manifestations, as they are mostly irrepressible, and can alone always be resorted to. While relieving the feelings, they can also become a most powerful, as they are often the only, instrument of reward and punishment. Their power of giving to moral sentiments greater precision, and of acting upon conduct like authoritative precepts, is seen in greatest force when they proceed from, bodies of men, whether they are regarded as signs of material consequences or not. He ends this part of the subject by defending, with Butler, the place of resentment in the moral constitution.

He proceeds to inquire how it is that not only the perfection of moral sentiment that would apportion more approbation and disapprobation according to the real tendencies of actions, is not attained, but men's moral feelings are not seldom in extreme contrariety with the real effects of human conduct. First, he finds that men, from partial views, or momentarily, or from caprice, may bestow their sentiments altogether at variance with the real consequences of actions. Next there is the difficulty, or even impossibility, of calculating all the consequences far and near; whence human conduct is liable to be appreciated on whimsical grounds or on no discernible grounds at all, and errors in moral sentiment arise, which it takes increased knowledge to get rid of. In the third place, it is a fact that our moral sentiments are to a very great extent derived from tradition, while the approbation and disapprobation may have originally been wrongly applied. The force of tradition he illustrates by supposing the case of a patriarchal family, and he cannot too strongly represent its strength in overcoming or at least struggling against natural feeling. The authoritative precept of a superior may also make actions be approved or disapproved, not because they are directly perceived or even traditionally held to be beneficial or injurious, but solely because they are commanded or prohibited. Lastly, he dwells upon the influence of superstition in perverting moral sentiment, finding, however, that it operates most strongly in the way of creating false virtues and false vices and crimes.