be made of presentative cognitions and six of representative. These are susceptible of very minute subdivisions.

As far back as the eleventh century the Schoolmen observed a distinction to which, though its consequence was overlooked for a period, philosophy has returned and upon which as fundamental and indispensable the science of knowledge grounds itself-the distinction between the knowledge of a thing present as it is present (cognitio rei praesentis ut praesens est) and the knowledge of a thing not as it is present (cognitio rei non ut praesens est); a distinction so important that, in the language of Sir William Hamilton, without it "the whole philosophy of knowledge must remain involved in ambiguities". DANIEL GREENLEAF THOMPSON.

The Philosophy of Ethics.-I'desire to explain very concisely two points in my article in the January number of MIND, on which I seem to have been misunderstood.

The first point relates to the distinction between desiring an object and regarding it as an end of action. My critic in the Spectator, January 12th, appears to think that I hold these operations to be the same, and very naturally takes exception to a doctrine which must spread confusion through every part of Ethics. But in doing so he mistakes my meaning. Without asserting that it is possible to desire an object and not at the same time to "posit it" as an end of action (a nice point in psychology, with which I do not meddle), I state confidently that the two acts are altogether different; as will at once become obvious to any one who doubts it, if he will consider that we may desire an object intensely, and yet put it very low down in the scale of ultimate ends, while on the other hand we may put it very high up in that scale-even at the very top-and desire it very faintly, or not desire it at all. This is, of course, the explanation of the fact that we so often know the good and do the evil. Our desire for a lower object overcomes what we call our better judgment,” i.c., our judgment that some incompatible object is preferable to it.

I may point out that no writer can be clear or consistent in his statements on these subjects, except (so to speak) by the help of his reader. The problem is to describe moral or ethical judgment without using the word "ought," a word which of course necessarily begs the whole question. In doing so it is absolutely requisite to use such words as "desire" and " prefer," but these words are ambiguous. "Desire" may mean "wish for "-may be the genus of which "appetite" is one species-and in that sense, in which I use it here, must be most carefully distinguished from "the regarding an object as an end of action". But it may also, without doing any violence to common usage, be used in this latter sense; so that a writer is almost forced by the poverty of technical language to use the same word for two things, which it is absolutely necessary for him to keep altogether distinct in his own mind and in that of his readers. The second point I wish to touch upon refers to my classification of ethical maxims or propositions into moral and non-moral or im

moral ones; and I am asked whether it would be proper, in virtue of this classification, to use the word "ought" when speaking of the second or non-moral and immoral group. To put the question in a concrete form-would it be correct, on my theory, to say of a man so filled with resentment that revenge is to him the highest ultimate end, that he ought to revenge himself on his enemy?

I reply that the question cannot be answered without some preliminary explanation. For the person who puts the question may mean three things by the word "ought," and may be in search therefore of three different pieces of information. (1) He may want to know whether revenge is in accordance with the recognised moral laws of the community: and the answer to this question (if he happens to be living in England in the nineteenth century) is in the negative. (2) He may want to know whether revenge is consistent with the moral laws which I, the person to whom he puts the question, recognise as binding: and in this case, as it happens, the answer is also in the negative. Or (3) he may want to know whether the proposition prescribing revenge stands in the same ethical relation to the injured man, as the propositions prescribing benevolence (for example) do to the philanthropist to whom the happiness of others is the highest end in itself; and this question I answer in the affirmative; while I further add that the benevolent man can state no reason for his benevolence which the revengeful man cannot parallel with an exactly similar and equally philosophic reason for his revenge.

ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR.

Ethics and Psychogony.-The world has no doubt become rather weary of the doctrine of Evolution, and inclined to rebel against its pretensions to revolutionise mental and moral science. When the first shock of a new revelation is over, reaction is sure to follow; and I believe that one of the reasons why Mr. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics was so warmly welcomed, apart from its intrinsic merits, was the relief that men felt at getting back into the old paths of self-introspection and common sense, and their pleasure at seeing Evolutionism boldly sent about its business as a mere intruder whose information was not asked

or in any way relevant. No doubt in the Second Edition this has been a good deal altered; the author having, as he tells us in his preface, been led to attach somewhat more importance to the theory of Evolution than formerly: but he still seems to hold that if "men do not now normally desire pleasure"-" to say in answer that all men once desired pleasure is from an Ethical point of view irrelevant." It would seem therefore that although he now to some extent admits Psychology to Ethics he would still exclude Psychogony from both.

A still stronger expression of the same view is propounded in Mr. Balfour's article in the last number of MIND. Having distinguished between causes which produce and grounds which justify a belief, and assigned the first to Psychology and the second to Philosophy, he says that with regard to ultimate beliefs, of which the differentia is "that there are no grounds for believing them at all," the business of

Philosophy is not to account for or prove them, but simply to disengage them and exhibit them in systematic order. Applying this to the Philosophy of Ethics, and remarking that ethical propositions differ from scientific as not stating facts but duties, he concludes that the ultimate principles of Ethics are sui generis, prescribing certain ends as ends-in-themselves, and that "the origin of an ultimate Ethical belief never can affect its validity". The functions of a moralist are therefore not to account for the origin of these ultimate beliefs, or to prove them, or "to justify the judgments which declare which of two final ends is to be preferred," but simply to clear up these ends and judgments and apply them.

Now whether the nature of moral obligation be a problem of Ethics or of Psychology is a mere question of names, (though surely it is hardly questionable that Ethics means more than Casuistry, and includes an inquiry into the connotation' as well as the 'denotation' of virtue): but when it is said that "the origin of an ultimate ethical belief can never affect its validity," that is a statement of fact, and a statement which I venture to controvert. I think I can best put my argument in the shape of illustrations.

Suppose a creditor, having after long balancing of accounts arrived at the sum due to him and entered the result in his ledger, came to be cross-examined some years afterwards as to the class of items included in this balance and the principle on which it was made, and that he had then forgotten all about it, even the very fact that he had made it. Suppose now that there was handed to him the paper on which his previous calculations were written, showing all the items which he had added and subtracted, and a total result corresponding to that entered in the ledger; would this paper be or be not useful to 'assist his memory,' and if his recollection had gone beyond recovery, would it or would it not (supposing its genuineness proved) be relevant to the inquiry what was represented by the entry in the ledger? Or suppose a mathematician of authority had worked out an intricate formula and published it, and that this was afterwards found in a certain instance to produce an anomalous result; suppose on this that a friend could find his manuscript calculations showing that the result depended on limitations and conditions which he had omitted to express in it, and which explained the anomaly in the particular instance: would this be irrelevant? If the evidence were excluded, it would be sure to be thought that he had other grounds for his result which were unknown, and which if known might very likely be convincing; and we should thus be reduced simply to a balance of authority without the power of verification.

But Mr. Balfour will perhaps object that these are instances of a belief not 'ultimate' but only derivative. I might answer-That is the very question at issue: till the entry in the ledger and the published formula were explained, they were ultimate: they were shown to be derivative only by being derived, and this is just what we propose to do with Ethical formula'. But let me take another example. No one can deny that the sensation of hearing is 'ultimate'. Does Mr.

Balfour insist that Acoustics shall deal only with sounds as heard and refuse all information as to vibrations? If so, does he remember that by the theory of vibrations various sensations of hearing have been predicted, as for instance the combination of two sounds to produce silence? Or would he say that a man has not a better knowledge of music if he understands the physical conditions of harmony and timbre, or the mathematical relations of the musical scale? Or take a kindred science to Ethics. There are many maxims or formulæ which may be called 'ultimate principles' of British Politics, and there are 'legal maxims' which may be called 'ultimate principles' of British Law. But would Mr. Balfour say that the meaning or purview of these, or even of an Act of Parliament, which is an ultimate principle' in writing, can be accurately known without a consideration. of the constitutional and legal history of England? If so, how does he account for the prejudice against doctrinaire statesmanship, and the shudder which an Englishman feels at any 'theory' of Politics? And if Politics is clearly not bound down to a number of 'ultimate principles,' why should Ethics be so bound?

Speaking generally, I contend that in order to understand the meaning and limits of any proposition it is necessary to know the grounds of that proposition; and that if no grounds for it are now apparent, as Mr. Balfour holds to be the case with ultimate beliefs,' the only chance is to ascertain if possible what were the grounds on which the proposition was first believed-in other words to examine its origin. Of course a proposition believed at first on grounds either bad or insufficient to justify it in its full acceptation may afterwards be justified on good and sufficient grounds; but if no new grounds are discovered, it retains only what validity was given it by the old. If these be forgotten, so that the belief comes under the definition of an 'ultimate belief,' and all evidence to refresh the memory is to be rejected as 'irrelevant,' man simply becomes chained down to any illogical belief which his ancestors may have acquired, and the very fact of its being illogical is that which makes him unable to get rid of it, for being a fallacy 'there are no grounds for believing it at all,' hence it is an ultimate belief' and no spuriousness of origin can affect its validity. We have it now,' as Mr. Sidgwick would say, 'what does it matter how we got it?' I on the contrary contend that the existence of a belief is no proof of its truth, unless (and I make the exception only for the sake of argument) it cannot be shown how the belief could have arisen otherwise than on the assumption of its truth. If it can be accounted for as a natural product, but a fallacy, that disposes of any evidence drawn from the fact of its existence.

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To apply this to Ethics. Let us grant that there are certain 'ultimate ethical beliefs or propositions' of which the differentia is the word 'ought,' and for which no reason or ground can now be given by Introspection :-let us also grant that the problem of Ethics is not the definition of Virtue, but the enumeration of virtues. Now I allege that by going back to the time when these beliefs first appeared, I can show that the meaning of 'ought' was derived from

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certain simpler elements of anticipations of pleasures and pains, and that I can ascertain the grounds on which the propositions in question were first believed and stated: I further say that as no other grounds can now be given for them, these original grounds must be taken to be the only measure of the validity, intent, and extent of the propositions in question I therefore argue that it is only by reference to these original grounds that the man who has to apply these propositions, namely the moralist, can guide himself, and I conclude that knowledge of the origin of moral judgments is of primary importance to Ethics. As one cannot truly understand the character of an individual man without having watched its growth or being told his history, so it is impossible to appreciate the moral nature of mankind, or reconcile its dicta, unless we study it not anatomically only, but physiologically, by retracing the steps of its development. Or to take Mr. Sidgwick's instance: I admit, not indeed in his words that 'men do not now normally desire pleasure alone but other things such as virtue', but in what I conceive to be the correct expression of the fact, that men do not now normally take pleasure in sensual gratification alone, but in other things also such as virtue. But I say that, if I can prove that the pleasure we now take in virtue originally came from and now represents the pleasure which virtuous action produced, I add a valuable piece of information to the man who is inquiring what is the nature of virtue; for surely, if I show that moral 'good' was made out of pleasures, I thereby disprove the theory that it contains anything else, just as if I show that water is made out of oxygen and hydrogen only, I disprove the theory that it contains carbon. I do not of course argue that in mental chemistry the compound is the exact sum of the components; but only that there is nothing more in the compound than in the components. By habit part of the components may disappear from consciousness, but no new element can be added. The motive to action need not contain all its original constituents, but it must represent them, and can be nothing but pleasure of some kind.

In Mr. Edgeworth's interesting essay on New and Old Methods of Ethics, noticed in the last number of MIND, the author suggests an "eirenicon" between Mr. Sidgwick's view and my own, namely that "non-hedonistic preference is ancestral habit". I fear I cannot accept this. For I do not admit that "habit is an exception to or a modification of the general hedonistic rule": so far as there is any preference or motive at all for an habitual action, I hold that preference or motive to be hedonistic; the only difference being that the pleasure habitually produced by the action is associated with the action itself, so that the action itself becomes an object of desire apart from its consequences. The same thing I hold to be true with regard to the emotions and affections, for not only do I say with Mr. Edgeworth, that these emotions and affections are "generated by association with" (or rather of) "experienced pleasure" and pain; but I add that being thus conglomerations of ideal pleasures and pains, they are themselves pleasurable or painful, and thus, as sources of action, are no exception