Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, "Equation" to "Ethics" (part 5)

A similar criticism might fairly be passed upon the majority of philosophers who approach ethics from the standpoint of evolution. Sir Leslie Stephen, for instance, wishes to substitute the conception of “social health” for that of universal happiness, and considers that the conditions of social health are to be discovered by an examination of the “social organism” or of “social tissue,” the laws of which can be studied apart from those laws by which the individuals composing society regulate their conduct. “The social evolution means the evolution of a strong social tissue; the best type is the type implied by the strongest tissue.” But on the important question as to what constitutes the strongest social tissue, or to what extent the analogy between society as at present constituted and organic life is really applicable, we are left without certain guidance. The fact is that with few exceptions evolutionary moral philosophers evade the choice between alternatives which is always presented to them. They begin, for the most part, with a belief that in ethics as in other departments of human knowledge “the more developed must be interpreted by the less developed”—though frequently in the sequel complexity or posteriority of development is erected as a standard by means of which to judge the process of development itself. They are not content to write a history of moral development, applying to it the principles by which Darwinians seek to explain the development of animal life. But the search of origins frequently leads them into theories of the nature of that moral conduct whose origin they are anxious to find quite at variance with current and accepted beliefs concerning its nature. The discovery of the so-called evolution of morality out of non-moral conditions is very frequently an unconscious subterfuge by which the evolutionist hides the fact that he is making a priori judgments upon the value of the moral concepts held to be evolved. To accept such theories of the origin of morality would carry with it the conviction that what we took for “moral” conduct was in reality something very different, and has been so throughout its history. The legitimate inference which should follow would be the denial of the validity of those moral laws which have hitherto been regarded as absolute in character, and the substitution for all customary moral terms of an entirely new set based upon biological considerations. But it is precisely this, the only logical inference, which most evolutionary philosophers are unwilling to draw. They cannot give up their belief in customary morality. Professor Huxley maintained, for example, in a famous lecture that “the ethical progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in running away from it, but in combating it” (Romanes Lecture, ad fin.). And very frequently arguments are adduced by evolutionists to prove that men’s belief in the absolute character of moral precepts is one of the necessary means adopted by nature to carry out her designs for the social welfare of mankind. Yet the other alternative, to which such reasoning points, they are reluctant to accept. For the belief that moral obligation is absolute in character, that it is alike impossible to explain its origin and transcend its laws, would make the search for a scientific criterion of conduct to be deduced from the laws of life and conditions of existence meaningless, if not absurd.

Perhaps the one European thinker who has carried evolutionary principles in ethics to their logical conclusion is Friedrich Nietzsche. Almost any system of morality or immorality might find some justification in Nietzsche’s writings, which are extraordinarily chaotic and full of the wildest exaggerations. Yet it has been a true instinct which has led popular opinion as testified to by current literature to find in Nietzsche the most orthodox exponent of Darwinian ideas in their application to ethics. For he saw clearly that to be successful evolutionary ethics must involve the “transvaluation of all values,” the “demoralization” of all ordinary current morality. He accepted frankly the glorification of brute strength, superior cunning and all the qualities necessary for success in the struggle for existence, to which the ethics of evolution necessarily tend. He proclaimed himself, before everything else, a physiologist, and looked to physiology to provide the ultimate standard for everything that has value; and though his own ethical code necessarily involves the disappearance of sympathy, love, toleration and all existing altruistic emotions, he yet in a sense finds room for them in such altruistic self-sacrifice as prepares the way for the higher man of the future. Thus, after a fashion, he is able to reconcile the conflicting claims of egoism and altruism and succeed where most apostles of evolution fail. The Christian virtues, sympathy for the weak, the suffering, &c., represent a necessary stage to be passed through in the evolution of the Übermensch, i.e. the stage when the weak and suffering combine in revolt against the strong. They are to be superseded, not so much because all social virtues are to be scorned and rejected, as because in their effects, i.e. in their tendency to perpetuate and prolong the existence of the weak and those who are least well equipped and endowed by nature, they are anti-social in character and inimical to the survival of the strongest and most vigorous type of humanity. Consequently Nietzsche in effect maintains the following paradoxical position: he explains the existence of altruism upon egoistical principles; he advocates the total abolition of all altruism by carrying these same egoistical principles to their logical conclusion; he nevertheless appeals to that moral instinct which makes men ready to sacrifice their own narrow personal interests to the higher good of society—an instinct profoundly altruistic in character—as the ultimate justification of the ethics he enunciates. Such a position is a reductio ad absurdum of the attempt to transcend the ultimate character of those intuitions and feelings which prompt men to benevolence. Thus, though incidentally there is much to be learned from Nietzsche, especially from his criticism of the ethics of pessimism, or from the strictures he passes upon the negative morality of extreme asceticism or quietism, his system inevitably provides its own refutation. For no philosophy which travesties the real course of history and distorts the moral facts is likely to commend itself to the sober judgment of mankind however brilliant be its exposition or ingenious its arguments. Finally, the conceptions of strength, power and masterfulness by which Nietzsche attempts to determine his own moral ideal, become, when examined, as relative and unsatisfactory as other criteria of moral action said to be deduced from evolutionary principles. Men desire strength or power not as ends but as means to ends beyond them; Nietzsche is most convincing when the Übermensch is left undefined. Imagined as ideal man, i.e. as morality depicts him, he becomes intelligible; imagined as Nietzsche describes him he reels back into the beast, and that distinction which chiefly separates man from the animal world out of which he has emerged, viz. his unique power of self-consciousness and self-criticism, is obliterated.

It was upon this crucial difficulty, i.e. the transition in the evolution of morality from the stage of purely animal and unconscious action to specifically human action,—i.e. action directed by self-conscious and purposive intelligence to an end conceived as good,—that the polemic of T.H. Green and his idealistic followers fastened. And it is perhaps unfortunate that metaphysical doctrines enunciated chiefly for the purposes of criticism not in themselves vitally necessary to the theory of morality propounded should have been regarded as the main contribution to ethical theory of idealist writers, and as such treated severely by hostile critics. Green’s principal objection to evolutionary moral philosophy is contained in the argument that no merely “natural” explanation of the facts of morality is conceivable. The knowing consciousness,—i.e. so far as conduct is concerned the moral consciousness,—can never become an object of knowledge in the sense in which natural phenomena are objects of scientific knowledge. For such knowledge implies the existence of a knowing consciousness as a relating and uniting intelligence capable of distinguishing itself from the objects to which it relates. And more particularly the existence of the moral consciousness implies “the transition from mere want to consciousness of wanted object, from impulse to satisfy the want to effort for the realization of the wanted objects, implies the presence of the want to a subject which distinguishes itself from it.” Consequently the facts of moral development imply with the emergence of human consciousness the appearance of something qualitatively different from the facts with which physiology for instance deals, imply a stratum as it were in development which no examination of animal tissues, no calculation of consequences with regard to the preservation of the species can ever satisfactorily explain. However far back we go in the history of humanity, if the presence of consciousness be admitted at all, it will be necessary to admit also the presence to consciousness of an ideal which can be accepted or rejected, of a power of looking before and after, and aiming at a future which is not yet fully realized. But unfortunately the temporary exigencies of criticism made it necessary for Green to emphasize the metaphysic of the self, i.e. to insist upon the necessity of a critical examination of the pre-requisites of any form of self-consciousness and especially of the knowing consciousness, to such an extent that critics have lost sight of the real dependence of his metaphysic upon the direct evidence of the moral consciousness. The philosophic value, the sincerity, the breadth and depth of his treatment of moral facts and institutions have been fully recognized. What has not been adequately realized is that the metaphysical basis of his system of ethics—the argument, for example, contained in the introduction to the Prolegomena—is unfairly treated if divorced from his treatment of morals as a whole, and that it can be justly estimated only if interpreted as much as the conclusion as the starting-point of moral theory. The doctrine of the eternity of the self, for instance, against which much criticism (e.g. Taylor, The Problem of Conduct, chap. ii.) has been directed, though it is chiefly expressed in the language of epistemology, has its roots nevertheless in the direct testimony of moral experience. For morality implies a power in the individual of rising above the interests of his own narrower self and identifying himself in the pursuit of a universal good with the true interests of all other selves. Similarly the conception of the self as a moral unity arises naturally out of the impossibility of finding the summum bonum in a succession of transient states of consciousness such as hedonism for example postulates. Good as a true universal can only be realized by a true self, and both imply a principle of unity not wholly expressible in terms of the particulars which it unifies. But whether the idealistic interpretation of the nature of universal good be the true one, i.e. whether we are justified in identifying that self-consciousness which is capable of grasping the principle of unity with the principle of unity which it grasps is a metaphysical and theistic problem comparatively irrelevant to Green’s moral theory. It would be quite possible to accept his criticisms of naturalism and hedonism while rejecting many of the metaphysical inferences which he draws. A somewhat similar answer might be returned to those critics who find Green’s use of the term “self-realization” or “self-development” as characteristic of the moral ideal unsatisfactory. It is quite easy to exhibit the futility of such a conception if understood formally for the practical purposes of moral philosophy. If the phrase be understood to mean the realization of some capacities of the self it does not appear to discriminate sufficiently between the good and bad capacities; while the realization under present conditions of all the capacities of a self is impossible. And to aim so far as is possible at all-round development would again ignore the distinction between vice and virtue. But used in the sense in which Green habitually uses it self-realization implies, as he puts it, the fulfilment by the good man of his rational capacity or the idea of a best that is in time, i.e. the distinction between the good and the bad self is never ignored, but is the fundamental assumption of his theory. And if it be urged that the expression is in any case tautological, i.e. that the good is defined in terms of self-realization and self-realization in terms of the good, it may be doubted whether any rational system of ethics can avoid a similar imputation. Green would admit that in a certain sense the conception of “good” is indefinable, i.e. that it can only be recognized in the particulars of conduct of which it is the universal form. Only, therefore, to those philosophers who believe in the existence of a criterion of morality, i.e. a universal test such as that of pleasure, happiness and the like, by which we can judge of the worth of actions, will Green’s position seem absurd; since, on the contrary, such conceptions as those of “self-development” or “self-realization” seem to have a definite and positive value if they call attention to the metaphysical implications of morality and accurately characterize the moral facts. What ambiguity they possess arises from the ambiguity of morality itself. For moral progress consists in the actualization of what is already potentially in existence. The striking merit of Green’s moral philosophy is that the idealism which he advocates is rooted and grounded in moral habits and institutions: and the metaphysic in which it culminates is based upon principles already implicitly recognized by the moral consciousness of the ordinary man. Nothing could be farther from Green’s teaching than the belief that constructive metaphysics could, unaided by the intuitions of the moral consciousness, discover laws for the regulation of conduct.

But although Green’s loyalty to the primary facts of the moral consciousness prevented him from constructing a rationalistic system of morals based solely upon the conclusions of metaphysics, it was perhaps inevitable that the revival of interest in metaphysics so prominent in his own speculations should lead to a more daring criticism of ethical first principles in other writers. Bradley’s Ethical Studies had presented with great brilliancy an idealist theory of morality not very far removed from that of Green’s Prolegomena. But the publication of Appearance and Reality by the same author marked a great advance in philosophical criticism of ethical postulates, and a growing dissatisfaction with current reconciliations between moral first principles and the conclusions of metaphysics. Appearance and Reality was not primarily concerned with morals, yet it inevitably led to certain conclusions affecting conduct, and it was no very long time before these conclusions were elaborated in detail. Professor A.E. Taylor’s Problem of Conduct (1901) is one of the most noteworthy and independent contributions to Moral Philosophy published in recent years. But it nevertheless follows in the main Bradley’s line of criticism and may therefore be regarded as representative of his school. There are two principal positions in Professor Taylor’s work:—(1) a refusal to base ethics upon metaphysics, and (2) the discovery of an irreconcilable dualism in the nature of morality which takes many shapes, but may be summarized roughly as consisting in an ultimate opposition between egoism and altruism. With regard to the first of these Taylor says (op. cit. p. 4) that his object is to show that “ethics is as independent of metaphysical speculation for its principles and methods as any of the so-called ‘natural sciences’; that its real basis must be sought not in philosophical theories about the nature of the Absolute or the ultimate constitution of the Universe, but in the empirical facts of human life as they are revealed to us in our concrete everyday experience of the world and mankind, and sifted and systematized by the sciences of psychology and sociology.... Ethics should be regarded as a purely ‘positive’ or ‘experimental’ and not as a ‘speculative’ science.” With regard to the second position one quotation will suffice (op. cit. p. 183). “Altruism and egoism are divergent developments from the common psychological root of primitive ethical sentiment. Both developments are alike unavoidable, and each is ultimately irreconcilable with the other. Neither egoism nor altruism can be made the sole basis of moral theory without mutilation of the facts, nor can any higher category be discovered by the aid of which their rival claims may be finally adjusted.”

Professor Taylor expounds these two theories with great brilliance of argument and much ingenuity, yet neither of them will perhaps carry complete conviction to the minds of the majority of his critics. It is curious, in the first place, to find the independence of moral philosophy upon metaphysics supported by metaphysical arguments. For whatever may be the real character of the interrelation of moral and metaphysical first principles it is obvious that Taylor’s own dissatisfaction with current moral principles arises from an inability to believe in their ultimate rationality, i.e. a belief that they are untenable from the standpoint of ultimate metaphysics; and perhaps the most interesting portion of his book is the chapter entitled “Beyond Good and Bad,” in which the highest and final form of the ethical consciousness of mankind is subjected to searching criticism. But further, it is becoming increasingly apparent that psychology (upon which Taylor would base morality) itself involves metaphysical assumptions; its position in fact cannot be stated except as a metaphysical position, whether that of subjective idealism or any other. And the need which most philosophers have felt for some philosophical foundation for morality arises, not from any desire to subordinate moral insight to speculative theory, but because the moral facts themselves are inexplicable except in the light of first principles which metaphysics alone can criticize.

Taylor himself attempts to find the roots of ethics in the moral sentiments of mankind, the moral sentiments being primarily feelings or emotions, though they imply and result in judgments of approval and disapproval upon conduct. But it may be doubted whether he succeeds in clearly distinguishing ethical feelings from ethical judgments, and if they are to be treated as synonymous it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that the implications of moral “judgment” must involve a reference to metaphysics.

Moreover, it is obvious that a great part of Taylor’s quarrel with current moral ideals arises from the fact that they do not commend themselves to the moral judgment, i.e. from the standpoint of real goodness they are unsatisfactory, being tainted with evil. Hence it appears difficult to reconcile what is in effect a belief in the validity of the judgments of the moral consciousness with a belief that the real source and justification of that consciousness are to be found in the very sentiments and vague mass of floating feelings upon which it pronounces. Scepticism seems to be the only possible result of such a position. Taylor’s polemic against metaphysical systems of ethics is based throughout upon an alleged discrepancy and separation between the facts of moral “experience,” the judgments of the moral consciousness, and theories as to the nature of these which the philosophers whom he attacks would by no means accept. There is no doubt a distinction between morality as a form of consciousness and reflection upon that morality. But such a distinction neither corresponds to, nor testifies to, the existence of a distinction between morality as “experience” and morality as “theory” or “idea.”

Taylor is more persuasive when he is developing his second main thesis—that of the alleged existence of an ultimate dualism in the nature of morality. His accounts of the genesis of the conceptions of obligation and responsibility as of most of the ultimate conceptions with which moral philosophy deals will be accepted or rejected to the extent to which the main contention concerning the psychological basis of ethics commends itself to the reader. But in his exposition of the fundamental contradiction involved in morality elaborated with much care and illustrative argument he appeals for the most part to facts familiar to the unphilosophical moral consciousness. He begins by finding an ultimate opposition between the instincts of self-assertion and instincts which secure the production and protection of the coming generation even in the infra-ethical world with which biology deals. He traces this opposition into the forms in which it appears in the social life of mankind (as, e.g., in the difficulty of reconciling the conflicting claims of individual self-development and self-culture and social service), and finds “a hidden root of insincerity and hypocrisy beneath all morality” (p. 243), inasmuch as it is not possible to pursue any one type of ideal without some departure from singleness of purpose. And he finds all the conceptions by which men have hoped to reconcile admitted antagonisms and divergencies between moral ideals claiming to be ultimate and authoritative alike unsatisfactory (p. 285). Progress is illusory; there is no satisfactory goal to which moral development inevitably tends; religion in which some take refuge when distressed by the inexplicable contradictions of moral conduct itself “contains and rests upon an element of make believe” (p. 489).

With Taylor’s presentation of the difficulties with which morality is expected to grapple probably few would be found seriously to disagree, though they might consider it unduly pessimistic. But when he turns what is in effect a statement of certain forms of moral difficulty into an attack upon the logical and coherent character of morality itself, he is not so likely to command assent. For the difficulty all men meet with in realizing goodness, or in being moral, is not in itself evidence of an inherent contradiction in the nature of goodness as such. And what perhaps would first strike an unprejudiced critic in Taylor’s examples of conflicting ideals or antagonistic yet ultimate moral judgments would be the perception that they are not necessarily moral ideas or judgments at all, and hence necessarily not ultimate.

The claims of self-culture and of social service may when considered in the abstract or in some hypothetical case appear antagonistic and irreconcilable. But when they present themselves to the individual moral consciousness it may be safely asserted (1) that there can be only one moral choice possible, i.e. that their opposition (where they are opposed) involves no conflict of duties; and (2) that whichever ideal is in the end preferred, opportunities will nevertheless be provided within its realization for the concurrent realization of activities and capacities ordinarily associated with the ideal alleged to be contradictory. For just as there is no self-realization which does not involve self-sacrifice, so there is no room for that species of egoism within the confines of morality which is incompatible with social service.

It will be clear from the foregoing account of Taylor’s work that the tendency of his thought, as of that of Bradley, is by no means directed to the confirmation or re-establishment of those principles of conduct recognized by the ordinary moral consciousness. Psychology or metaphysics tend in their systems to usurp the place of authority formerly assigned to ethics proper.

It would be true on the whole to assert that evolutionary systems of ethics such as those of Herbert Spencer, Sir Leslie Stephen or Professor S. Alexander (Moral Order and Progress, 1899), together with the metaphysical theories of morals of which T.H. Green and Bradley and Taylor are the chief representatives, have dominated the field of ethical speculation since 1870. Nevertheless it is only necessary to mention such a work as Martineau’s Types of Ethical Theory to dispel the notion that the type of moral philosophy most characteristically English, i.e. consisting in the patient analysis of the form and nature of the moral consciousness itself, has given way or is likely to give way to more ambitious and constructive efforts. Martineau’s chief endeavour was, as he himself says, to interpret, to vindicate, and to systematize the moral sentiments, and if the actual exhibition of what is involved, e.g., in moral choice is the vindication of morality Martineau may be said to have been successful. It is with his interpretation and systematization of the moral sentiments that most of Martineau’s critics have found fault. It is impossible, e.g., to accept his ordered hierarchy of “springs of action” without perceiving that the real principle upon which they can be arranged in order at all must depend upon considerations of circumstances and consequences, of stations and duties, with which a strict intuitionalism such as that of Martineau would have no dealing. Similarly the notion of Conscience as a special faculty giving its pronouncements immediately and without reflection cannot be maintained in the face of modern psychological analysis and is untrue to the nature of moral judgment itself. And Martineau is curiously unsympathetic to the universal and social aspect of morality with which evolutionary and idealist moral philosophers are so largely occupied. Nevertheless there have been few moral philosophers who have, apart from the idiosyncrasies of their special prepossessions, set forth with clearer insight or with greater nobility of language the essential nature of the moral consciousness.

Equal in importance to Martineau’s work is Professor Sidgwick’s Methods of Ethics which appeared in 1874. The two works are alike in loftiness of outlook and in the fact that they are devoted to the re-examination of the nature of the moral consciousness to the exclusion of alien branches of inquiry. In most other respects they differ. Martineau is much more in sympathy with idealism than Sidgwick, whose work consists in a restatement from a novel and independent standpoint of the Utilitarian position. And Sidgwick has been far more successful than any other moral philosopher with the exception of T.H. Green and Bradley in founding a school of thought. Many of his most acute critics would be the first to admit how much they owe to his teaching. Chief among the more recent of these is G.E. Moore, whose book Principia Ethica is an important original contribution to ethical thought. And although Dr Hastings Rashdall (The Theory of Good and Evil Oxford, 1907) is not in agreement with Sidgwick’s own particular type of hedonistic theory in his own philosophical position, he occupies a point of view somewhat similar to that of Sidgwick’s main attitude of Rational Utilitarianism. Rashdall’s two volumes exhibit also a welcome return on the part of English thought to the proper business of the moral philosopher—the examination of the nature of moral conduct. Other works, such as Professor L.T. Hobhouse’s Morals in Evolution or Professor E.A. Westermarck’s Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, testify to a continued interest in the history of morality and in the anthropological inquiries with which moral philosophy is closely connected.

Much that is of importance for moral philosophy has recently been written upon problems that more properly belong to the philosophy of religion and the theory of knowledge. J.F. M‘Taggart’s Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, and his later work, Some Dogmas of Religion, contain interesting contributions to the theory of pleasure and of the problem of free will and determinism. A notable instance of this tendency is seen in the developments of the theory of pragmatism (q.v.), for which F.C.S. Schiller has proposed the general term “humanism.” Such aspects as concern ethics include, for example, the limited indeterminism involved in the theory, the attitude of the religious consciousness expressed by William James (Will to Believe and Pragmatism), and the pragmatic conception of the good. And the widespread interest in social problems has produced a revival of speculation concerning questions partly political and party ethical in character, e.g. the nature of justice. Finally it has become apparent that many problems hitherto left for political economy to solve belong more properly to the moralist, if not to the moral philosopher, and it may be confidently expected that with the increased complexity of social life and the disappearance of many sanctions of morality hitherto regarded as inviolable, the future will bring a renewed and practical interest in the theory of conduct likely to lead to fresh developments in ethical speculation.

Bibliography.—The literature of the subject is so large in all languages that only a small selection can be given here. For further works reference may be made to subsidiary articles. See also Baldwin’s Dict. of Philos. and Psychol. vol. iii. (1905), pp. 812 foll. (bibliography).

I. Historical.—Sir L. Stephen, History of English Thought in the 18th Century (1876, 3rd ed. 1892); W.E.H. Lecky, History of European Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne (1869, many editions); works of Ed. Zeller (q.v.); G.H. Lewes, History of Philosophy (1880); W. Gass, Geschichte der christlichen Ethik (1881); A.W. Benn, The Greek Philosophers (1882); F. Jödl, Geschichte der Ethik in der neueren Philos. (2 vols., 1882-1889); L. Schmidt, Ethik der alten Griechen (1882); E. Howley, The Old Morality traced Historically (1885); J. Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory (Oxford, 1885, 3rd ed. 1891); Th. Ziegler, Gesch. d. christl. Ethik (1886); Ch. Letourneaux, L’Évolution de la morale (1887); K. Köstlin, Gesch. der Ethik (1887); C.E. Luthardt, Die antike Ethik in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (1887), and Hist. of Christian Ethics (1888); C.M. Williams, A Review of the Systems of Ethics founded on the Theory of Evolution (1893); J. Watson, Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer (1895); L.A. Selby-Bigge, British Moralists (1897); R. Mackintosh, From Comte to Benjamin Kidd (1899); S. Patten, The Development of English Thought (1899); A.B. Bruce, The Moral Order of the World in Ancient and Modern Thought (1899); Sir L. Stephen, The English Utilitarians (1901); Henry Sidgwick, Outlines of the History of Ethics (5th ed., 1902); Paul Janet, History of the Problems of Philosophy (1902-1903), Eng. trans. Ada Monahan, vol. ii. “Ethics”; W.R. Sorley, Recent Tendencies in Ethics (1904).

II. Constructive and Critical.—Besides the works mentioned above the following may be mentioned:—J.M. Guyau, La Morale anglaise (1879), Éducation et hérédité (1889; Eng. trans. Greenstreet, with introd. by G.F. Stout, 1891), Esquisse d’une morale sans obligation ni sanction (Eng. trans., 1898); G.H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind (1879); Sir L. Stephen, Science of Ethics (1882); P. Janet, The Theory of Morals (Eng. trans., 1884); W.R. Sorley, On the Ethics of Naturalism (1885); W.L. Courtney, Constructive Ethics (1886); Wilson and Fowler, Principles of Morals (1886); H. Höffding, Ethik (1888), Psychologie (1882, 1892; trans. Lowndes, 1892); W. Wundt, Ethik (1886; trans. Titchener and others, 1897); F. Paulsen, Ethik (1889, 1893; trans. Thilly, 1899); H. Sidgwick, Method of Ethics (1890); J.T. Bixby, The Crisis in Morals: An Examination of Rational Ethics (1891); J. Seth, Freedom an Ethical Postulate (1891); J.H. Muirhead, Elements of Ethics (1892); G. Simnel, Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft (1892, 1893); T. Ziegler, Social Ethics (1892); T.H. Huxley, Evolution and Ethics (1893); W. Knight, The Christian Ethic (1893); J.S. Mackenzie, Manual of Ethics (1893); F. Ryland, Ethics (1893); J. Seth, A Study of Ethical Principles (1894, 6th ed. 1902); C.F. D’Arcy, Short Study of Ethics (1895); J.H. Hyslop, The Elements of Ethics (1895); J. Kidd, Morality and Religion (1895); Sir L. Stephen, Social Rights and Duties (1896); J.M. Baldwin, Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental Development (1897); Th. Ribot, Psychology of Emotions (1897); A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, Man’s Place in the Cosmos (1897); H.R. Marshall, Instinct and Reason (1898); W. Wallace, Natural Theology and Ethics (1898); F. Paulsen, Partei-politik und Moral (1900); A.E. Taylor, Problem of Conduct (1901); G.T. Ladd, Philosophy of Conduct (1902); H. Sidgwick, Ethics of Green, Spencer, Martineau (1902); D. Irons, Study in Psychology of Ethics (1903); G.E. Moore, Principia Ethica (1903); R. Eucken, Geistige Strömungen der Gegenwart (1904), and other works (see Eucken, Rudolf); works of A. Fouillée (q.v.); G. Santayana, Life of Reason (1905); E.A. Westermarck, Origin and Development of Moral Ideas (1906); George Gore, Scientific Basis of Morality (1899), and New Scientific Basis of Morality (1906), containing an interesting if unconvincing attempt to explain ethics on purely physical principles.

(H. H. W.)

This well-known phrase was originally attributed to the Pythagoreans.

It is highly characteristic of Platonism that the issue in this dialogue, as originally stated, is between virtue and vice, whereas, without any avowed change of ground, the issue ultimately discussed is between the philosophic life and the life of vulgar ambition or sensual enjoyment.

This cardinal term is commonly translated “happiness”; and it must be allowed that it is the most natural term for what we (in English) agree to call “our being’s end and aim.” But happiness so definitely signifies a state of feeling that it will not admit the interpretation that Aristotle (as well as Plato and the Stoics) expressly gives to εὐδαιμονία; the confusion is best avoided by rendering the word by the less familiar “well-being.”

Aristotle follows Plato and Socrates in identifying the notions of καλός (“fair,” “beautiful”) and ἀγαθός (“good”) in their application to conduct. We may observe, however, that while the latter term is used to denote the virtuous man, and (in the neuter) equivalent to End generally, the former is rather chosen to express the quality of virtuous acts which in any particular case is the end of the virtuous agent. Aristotle no doubt faithfully represents the common sense of Greece in considering that, in so far as virtue is in itself good to the virtuous agent, it belongs to that species of good which we distinguish as beautiful. In later Greek philosophy the term καλόν (“honestum”) became still more technical in the signification of “morally good.”

The above account is considerably expanded in H. Sidgwick’s Hist. of Ethics (5th ed., 1902), pp. 59-70.

There is a certain difficulty in discussing Aristotle’s views on the subject of practical wisdom, and the relation of the intellect to moral action, since it is most probable that the only accounts that we have of these views are not part of the genuine writings of Aristotle. Still books vi. and vii. of the Nicomachean Ethics contain no doubt as pure Aristotelian doctrine as a disciple could give, and appear to supply a sufficient foundation for the general criticism expressed in the text.

It has been suggestively said that Cynicism was to Stoicism what monasticism was to early Christianity. The analogy, however, must not be pressed too far, since orthodox Stoics do not ever seem to have regarded Cynicism as the more perfect way.

The Stoics were not quite agreed as to the immutability of virtue, but they were agreed that, when once possessed, it could only be lost through the loss of reason itself.

Hence some members of the school, without rejecting the definition of virtue = knowledge, also defined it as “strength and force.”

It is apparently in view of this union in reason of rational beings that friends are allowed to be “external goods” to the sage, and that the possession of good children is also counted a good.

The Stoics seem to have varied in their view of “good repute,” εὐδοξία; at first, when the school was more under the influence of Cynicism, they professed an outward as well as an inward indifference to it; ultimately they conceded the point to common sense, and included it among προηγμένα.

It is noted of him that he did not disdain the co-operation either of women or of slaves in his philosophical labours.

The last charge of Epicurus to his disciples is said to have been, τῶν δογμάτων μεμνῆσθαι.

Epictetus.

Marcus Aurelius.

E.g. Justin Martyr, Origen, Tertullian, Cyprian.

Citra sanguinis effusionem.

To show the crudity of the notion of redemption in early Christianity, it is sufficient to mention that many fathers represent Christ’s ransom as having been paid to the devil; sometimes adding that by the concealment of Christ’s divinity under the veil of humanity a certain deceit was (fairly) practised on the great deceiver.

It is to be observed that Augustine prefers to use “freedom” not for the power of willing either good or evil, but the power of willing good. The highest freedom, in his view, excludes the possibility of willing evil.

Cicero’s works are unimportant in the history of ancient ethics, as their philosophical matter was entirely borrowed from Greek treatises now lost; but the influence exercised by them (especially by the De officiis) over medieval and even modern readers was very considerable.

Abelard afterwards retracted this view, at least in its extreme form; and in fact does not seem to have been fully conscious of the difference between (1) unfulfilled intention to do an act objectively right, and (2) intention to do what is merely believed by the agent to be right.

He was condemned by two synods, in 1121 and 1140.

Synderesis (Gr. συντήρησις, from συντηρεῖν, to watch closely, observe) is used in this sense in Jerome (Com. in Ezek. i. 4-10).

The refusal of the council of Constance to condemn Jean Petit’s advocacy of assassination is a striking example of this weakness. Cf. Milman, Lat. Christ. book xiii. c. 9.

As the chief English casuists we may mention Perkins, Hall, Sanderson, as well as the more eminent Jeremy Taylor, whose Ductor dubitantium appeared in 1660.

This influence was not exercised in the region of ethics. Bacon’s brief outline of moral philosophy (in the Advancement of Learning, ii. 20-22) is highly pregnant and suggestive. But Bacon’s great task of reforming scientific method was one which, as he conceived it, left morals on one side; he never made any serious effort to reduce his ethical views to a coherent system, methodically reasoned on an independent basis. The outline given in the Advancement was never filled in, and does not seem to have had any effect on the subsequent course of ethical speculation.

He even identifies the desire with the pleasure, apparently regarding the stir of appetite and that of fruition as two parts of the same “motion.”

In spite of Hobbes’s uncompromising egoism, there is a noticeable discrepancy between his theory of the ends that men naturally seek and his standard for determining their natural rights. This latter is never Pleasure simply, but always Preservation—though on occasion he enlarges the notion of “preservation” into “preservation of life so as not to be weary of it.” His view seems to be that in a state of nature most men will fight, rob, &c., “for delectation merely” or “for glory,” and that hence all men must be allowed an indefinite right to fight, rob, &c., “for preservation.”

It should be noticed, however, that it is only in his treatment of Equity and Benevolence that he really follows out the mathematical analogy (cf. Sidgwick’s History of Ethics, 5th ed., pp. 180-181).

It should be observed that, while Clarke is sincerely anxious to prove that most principles are binding independently of Divine appointment, he is no less concerned to show that morality requires the practical support of revealed religion.

Three classes of impulses are thus distinguished by Shaftesbury:—(1) “Natural Affections,” (2) “Self-affections,” and (3) “Un-natural Affections.” Their characteristics are further considered in the History of Ethics, p. 186 seq.

In a remarkable passage near the close of his eleventh sermon Butler seems even to allow that conscience would have to give way to self-love, if it were possible (which it is not) that the two should come into ultimate and irreconcilable conflict.

It is worth noticing that Hutcheson’s express definition of the object of self-love includes “perfection” as well as “happiness”; but in the working out of his system he considers private good exclusively as happiness or pleasure.

Hume’s ethical view was finally stated in his Inquiry into the Principles of Morals (1751), which is at once more popular and more purely utilitarian than his earlier work.

Hume remarks that in some cases, by “association of ideas,” the rule by which we praise and blame is extended beyond the principle of utility from which it arises; but he allows much less scope to this explanation in his second treatise than in his first.

In earlier editions of the Inquiry Hume expressly included all approved qualities under the general notion of “virtue.” In later editions he avoided this strain on usage by substituting or adding “merit” in several passages—allowing that some of the laudable qualities which he mentions would be more commonly called “talents,” but still maintaining that “there is little distinction made in our internal estimation” of “virtues” and “talents.”

It is to be observed that whereas Price and Stewart (after Butler) identify the object of self-love with happiness or pleasure, Reid conceives this “good” more vaguely as including perfection and happiness; though he sometimes uses “good” and happiness as convertible terms, and seems practically to have the latter in view in all that he says of self-love.

E.g. Reid proposes to apply this principle in favour of monogamy, arguing from the proportion of males and females born; without explaining why, if the intention of nature hence inferred excludes occasional polygamy, it does not also exclude occasional celibacy.

We may observe that some recent writers, who would generally be included in this school, avoid in various ways the difficulty of constructing a code of external conduct. Sometimes they consider moral intuition as determining the comparative excellence of conflicting motives (James Martineau), or the comparative quality of pleasures chosen (Laurie), which seems to be the same view in a hedonistic garb; others hold that what is intuitively perceived is the rightness or wrongness of individual acts—a view which obviously renders ethical reasoning practically superfluous.

The originality—such as it is—of Paley’s system (as of Bentham’s) lies in its method of working out details rather than in its principles of construction. Paley expressly acknowledges his obligations to the original and suggestive, though diffuse and whimsical, work of Abraham Tucker (Light of Nature Pursued, 1768-1774). In this treatise, as in Paley’s, we find “every man’s own satisfaction, the spring that actuates all his motives,” connected with “general good, the root whereout all our rules of conduct and sentiments of honour are to branch,” by means of natural theology demonstrating the “unniggardly goodness of the author of nature.” Tucker is also careful to explain that satisfaction or pleasure is “one and the same in kind, however much it may vary in degree, ... whether a man is pleased with hearing music, seeing prospects, tasting dainties, performing laudable actions, or making agreeable reflections,” and again that by “general good” he means “quantity of happiness,” to which “every pleasure that we do to our neighbour is an addition.” There is, however, in Tucker’s theological link between private and general happiness a peculiar ingenuity which Paley’s common sense has avoided. He argues that men having no free will have really no desert; therefore the divine equity must ultimately distribute happiness in equal shares to all; therefore I must ultimately increase my own happiness most by conduct that adds most to the general fund which Providence administers.

But in fact the outline of Paley’s utilitarianism is to be found a generation earlier—in Gay’s dissertation prefixed to Law’s edition of King’s Origin of Evil—as the following extracts will show:—“The idea of virtue is the conformity to a rule of life, directing the actions of all rational creatures with respect to each other’s happiness; to which every one is always obliged.... Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting something in order to be happy.... Full and complete obligation which will extend to all cases can only be that arising from the authority of God.... The will of God [so far as it directs behaviour to others] is the immediate rule or criterion of virtue ... but it is evident from the nature of God that he could have no other design in creating mankind than their happiness; and therefore he wills their happiness; therefore that my behaviour so far as it may be a means to the happiness of mankind should be such; so this happiness of mankind may be said to be the criterion of virtue once removed.”

The same dissertation also contains the germ of Hartley’s system, as we shall presently notice.

It must be allowed that Paley’s application of this argument is somewhat loosely reasoned, and does not sufficiently distinguish the consequence of a single act of beneficent manslaughter from the consequences of a general permission to commit such acts.

This list gives twelve out of the fourteen classes in which Bentham arranges the springs of action, omitting the religious sanction (mentioned afterwards), and the pleasures and pains of self-interest, which include all the other classes except sympathy and antipathy.

In the Deontology published by Bowring from MSS. left after Bentham’s death, the coincidence is asserted to be complete.

It should be observed that Austin, after Bentham, more frequently uses the term “moral” to connote what he more distinctly calls “positive morality,” the code of rules supported by common opinion in any society.

In the before-mentioned dissertation. Cf. note 2 to p. 835. Hartley refers to this treatise as having supplied the starting-point for his own system.

It should be noticed that Hartley’s sensationalism is far from leading him to exalt the corporeal pleasures. On the contrary, he tries to prove elaborately that they (as well as the pleasures of imagination, ambition, self-interest) cannot be made an object of primary pursuit without a loss of happiness on the whole—one of his arguments being that these pleasures occur earlier in time, and “that which is prior in the order of nature is always less perfect than that which is posterior.”

It may be observed that in the view of Kant and others (2) and (3) are somewhat confusingly blended.

Singularly enough, the English writer who approaches most nearly to Kant on this point is the utilitarian Godwin, in his Political Justice. In Godwin’s view, reason is the proper motive to acts conducive to general happiness: reason shows me that the happiness of a number of other men is of more value than my own; and the perception of this truth affords me at least some inducement to prefer the former to the latter. And supposing it to be replied that the motive is really the moral uneasiness involved in choosing the selfish alternative, Godwin answers that this uneasiness, though a “constant step” in the process of volition, is a merely “accidental” step—“I feel pain in the neglect of an act of benevolence, because benevolence is judged by me to be conduct which it becomes me to adopt.”

In Kantism, as we have partly seen, the most important ontological beliefs—in God, freedom and immortality of the soul—are based on necessities of ethical thought. In Fichte’s system the connexion of ethics and metaphysics is still more intimate; indeed, we may compare it in this respect to Platonism; as Plato blends the most fundamental notions of each of these studies in the one idea of good, so Fichte blends them in the one idea free-will. “Freedom,” in his view, is at once the foundation of all being and the end of all moral action. In the systems of Schelling and Hegel ethics falls again into a subordinate place; indeed, the ethical view of the former is rather suggested than completely developed. Neither Fichte nor Schelling has exercised more than the faintest and most indirect influence on ethical philosophy in England; it therefore seems best to leave the ethical doctrines of each to be explained in connexion with the rest of his system.

Cf. A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, The Philosophical Radicals. Martineau’s Philosophy, p. 92.