sufferer.

And now what objection have we to urge against a system of moral philosophy
so beneficent, so enlightened, so ideal, and at the same time so
practical,--so Christian, as we may say without exaggeration,--and which
has the further advantage of resting morality on a principle intelligible
to all capacities? Have we not found that which Socrates and Plato 'grew
old in seeking'? Are we not desirous of happiness, at any rate for
ourselves and our friends, if not for all mankind? If, as is natural, we
begin by thinking of ourselves first, we are easily led on to think of
others; for we cannot help acknowledging that what is right for us is the
right and inheritance of others. We feel the advantage of an abstract
principle wide enough and strong enough to override all the particularisms
of mankind; which acknowledges a universal good, truth, right; which is
capable of inspiring men like a passion, and is the symbol of a cause for
which they are ready to contend to their life's end.

And if we test this principle by the lives of its professors, it would
certainly appear inferior to none as a rule of action. From the days of
Eudoxus (Arist. Ethics) and Epicurus to our own, the votaries of pleasure
have gained belief for their principles by their practice. Two of the
noblest and most disinterested men who have lived in this century, Bentham
and J. S. Mill, whose lives were a long devotion to the service of their
fellows, have been among the most enthusiastic supporters of utility; while
among their contemporaries, some who were of a more mystical turn of mind,
have ended rather in aspiration than in action, and have been found unequal
to the duties of life. Looking back on them now that they are removed from
the scene, we feel that mankind has been the better for them. The world
was against them while they lived; but this is rather a reason for admiring
than for depreciating them. Nor can any one doubt that the influence of