and better, the highest benefits they will seek to confer upon
others will be those which they desire for themselves-namely,
those modes of life which ennoble and exalt humanity, and which
discipline and strengthen the highest faculties, at whatever cost
of toil and suffering. It is no doubt impertinent bigotry 'to
inveigh against the doctrine of Utility as a godless doctrine.'
Nevertheless there seems no warrant for the belief that God
desires above all things the happiness of his creatures, and that
this was his purpose in their creation.'* So far as we may presume
the purpose of creation from all that science can discover or
suggest, it would rather seem that the development, improve-
ment, and elevation of the faculties of terrestrial beings is the
plan apparent on the face of nature. It is not indeed easy to
see how in the happiest conceivable world there could be any
schooling or developing of some of the noblest faculties, or any
practice of some of the noblest virtues. Heroism, self-sacrifice,
and compassion, imply the existence of pain and suffering. And
the growth of intelligence brings with it cares, anxieties, and
sorrows, which never disturb the happiness of the thoughtless
animals.

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?

Every step in the progress of civilization has by no means been attended by an increase of human happiness; yet the step was a thing desirable in itself, irrespective of ultimate ends. The 'merry England,' of which it pleases the laudator temporis acti to speak, is, no doubt, in a great measure, an historical fallacy; yet an England of Miltons and Hampdens, if ever so grave and sad, were better than an England of Falstaffs, if ever so merry on cakes and ale. And if the good man would not choose the lower and more animal life, however pleasant, either for himself or for mankind, does it not seem that the summum bonum and the aim and end of virtue is what disciplines and ennobles humanity, and elevates it more and more above the condition of the brute, rather than what may serve to annihilate most pains and provide most pleasures? Is not the progressive improvement of living creatures the best purpose the world seems to contain or disclose?

* Utilitarianism, p. 301.

IT

The chief quality in the character of virtue is, in truth, not usefulness, but excellence, rarity, nobleness. If all men were benevolent, and equally so, benevolence would not be thought of as a virtue. The pecuniary value of things in the market depends, not on their utility, but on their comparative scarcity, difficulty of attainment, and superiority; and so the moral worth of actions and qualities is estimated by their rare and peculiar merit and extraordinary dignity and sublimity, rather than their pleasure-giving effects. What we most admire in man is what sets him above the brute; and what we most admire and approve in men is ascent above their fellow-men in intellectual and moral rank; and these sentiments of admiration and esteem supply ample motives to sacrifice pleasure to improvement, and tend to make the standard or criterion of virtue the tendency to elevate and ennoble human nature rather than to promote the happiness of human life; so that, for example, in our dealings with inferior races, such as those of Africa and Polynesia, we might be influenced by other and higher considerations of their advantage than their ease and enjoyment.

In a noble passage, Mr. Mill observes that all the grand sources of human suffering are, in a great degree-many of them almost entirely-conquerable by human care and effort; and though the removal is grievously slow-though a long succession of generations will perish in the breach before the conquest is completed, and this world becomes all that, if will and knowledge were not wanting, it might easily be made-yet every mind sufficiently intelligent and generous to bear a part in the endeavour, will draw a noble enjoyment from the contest itself, which he would not for any bribe, in the form of selfish indulgence, consent to be without.' Whether such a contest could afford what may fairly be called enjoyment to all competent to take part in it, might be doubted; and still more doubtful is it whether, from less arduous and less philanthropic occupations, most men might not derive more pleasure in their day. Yet the contest may be good, in a sense appreciable to our present moral sentiments, even for those to whom it brings little but care and sorrow and broken health, and loss of ease and rest. It may, too, be better towards the true advantage of the human

race that such a contest should take place than that it should have been altogether unnecessary. Life is neither a pleasure nor a pain, but a serious business, which it is our duty to carry through, and terminate with honour.' Such was the serious and solemn theory of life which commended itself to the judgment of M. de Tocqueville; and whoever accepts it for himself must repudiate also for others the theory, that earthly happiness is the goal of human effort. But different theories of life must, in this world of mystery and doubt, present themselves to different minds, and the just weight to be attached to earthly happiness can be determined by no human measure. It is in itself a good, but not the sole good. And, in truth, it seems that, as on the one hand the moral sense is not a single sentiment, but a plurality of affections, emotions, and ideas, of different complexion in different ages and different men, so there is no sole and universal criterion either of virtuous actions or of human good. We love, approve, admire, respect, and venerate different qualities respectively; and virtue is, in short, not an abstract name of a single attribute, but a noun of multitude, which includes not only the useful and the loveable, but the exalted, the excellent, the noble, and the sublime, and the beautiful to the eye of the soul. All virtue aims, indeed, at human good; but human good seems manifold. It is innocent pleasure and innocent escape from pain, but it is also improvement; it is enjoyment, but it is also discipline, energy, and action. And, if a conflict should arise between the two, if the progressive should become less happy than the stationary state, the virtuous man may be expected to make the choice of Hercules both for himself and for others. The great changes which have taken place, however, in the moral sentiments of successive generations of mankind, and in their estimates of the worth of qualities and actions, might in reason warn us from attempting to fix for ever the standard and ideal of virtue, or to determine the aims of life for all future generations. It was held in ancient Rome, that valour is the chiefest virtue,' and humanity would then have been held nearly akin to vice. So it seems not for us to make certain that our present theories of the right and good are not dwarfed by the imperfection of our sentiments and our know

E

ledge. For this reason alone the claims of Utilitarianism to be received as 'a comprehensive formula, including all things. which are in themselves good,' would seem open to question. The moral progress of mankind is in itself a good, which makes the final determination of the summum bonum improbable; and it is too in itself a good which is probably better than happiness.

V.

THE WEALTH OF NATIONS AND THE SLAVE

POWER.

(Macmillan's Magazine, February, 1863.)

It has long been a prevalent notion, that Political Economy is a series of deductions from the principle of selfishness or private interest alone. The common desire of men to grow rich by the shortest and easiest methods-to obtain every gratification with the smallest sacrifice on their own part, has been supposed to be all that the political economist desires to have granted in theory, or to see regulating in practice the transactions of the world, to insure its material prosperity. A late eminent writer has described as follows the doctrine of Adam Smith, in the Wealth of Nations: He everywhere assumes that the great moving power of all men, all interests, and all classes in all ages and in all countries, is selfishness. He represents men as pursuing wealth for sordid objects, and for the narrowest personal pleasures. The fundamental assumption of his work is that each man follows his own interest, or what he deems to be his interest. And one of the peculiar features of his book is to show that, considering society as a whole, it nearly always happens that men, in promoting their own, will unintentionally promote the interest of others.'*

But, in truth, the acquisitive and selfish propensities of mankind, their anxiety to get as much as possible of everything they like, and to give as little as possible in return, are in their very nature principles of aggression and injury instead of

Buckle's History of Civilization, vol. ii.