But even then such a view cannot be maintained in the light of the facts without exposing the nature of good and bad to a falsification which involves a form of subjectivism similar to that formerly committed by Protagoras respecting the notions of truth and falsehood. Just as, according to this subjectivist in the sphere of the judgment, man is the measure of all things, and often what is true for one, may at the same time be false for another—so the advocates of the view that only the good can be loved, only the bad hated, are really compelled to assume that, in this sphere, each is himself the measure of all things; for the good, in that it is good; for the bad, that it is bad; so that often something is, in itself and at the same time, both good and bad: good in itself, in the case of all who love it for its own sake; bad in itself, in the case of all who hate it for its own sake. This is absurd, and the subjectivistic falsification of the notion of the good is to be rejected equally with the subjectivistic falsification of the notions of truth and existence by Protagoras, but with this difference: that the subjectivistic error in the sphere of what is rightly pleasing and displeasing takes root more easily and infects most ethical systems even to-day. Some, as recently, Sigwart (Vorfragen der Ethik, p. 6), confess it openly; others fall into this error without themselves becoming clearly conscious of the subjectivistic character of their view.[A]
[A] Those especially who teach that generally speaking the knowledge, pleasure, and perfection of each individual is, for him, good, their opposites bad, and that all else is in itself indifferent, will perhaps protest against my classing them among the subjectivists. It might even seem on a superficial survey, that they have set up a doctrine of the good equally valid for all. But on a more careful examination we find that this teaching does not even in a single instance, hold one and the same object to be good universally. For example, my own knowledge is, according to this view, for me worthy of love; for every one else indifferent in itself, while the knowledge of another individual is in itself for me indifferent. It is curious to observe theistic thinkers, as often happens, setting up a subjectivistic view respecting the good, valid of all mortal loving and willing, while, at the same time assuming that God, without respect of person, estimates every perfection by a kind of objective standard. This exception with regard to the loving and willing of God and the notion of Him as eternal Judge is then meant to render harmless in respect of its practical consequences, the egoism which such a principle implies.
Of the celebrated controversy between Bossuet and Fenelon it may be said that the great bishop of Meaux advocated a kind of subjectivism. Fenelon’s theses, though he advocated a system of morality neither ignoble nor unchristian, were finally condemned by the Church of Rome, though it did not go so far as to reject his teaching as heretical. Otherwise one would really be compelled to condemn also those fine glowing lines attributed by many to St. Theresa, that in a very imperfect Latin translation have found their way into many Catholic prayer-books which is much more than their escaping the ecclesiastical censor. I give them translated directly from the Spanish:
Nicht Hoffnung auf des Himmels sel’ge Freuden
Hat Dir, mein Gott, zum Dienste mich verbunden.
Nicht Furcht, die ich vor ew’gem Graus empfunden,
Hat mich bewegt der Sünder Pfad zu meiden.
Du Herr bewegst mich, mich bewegt Dein Leiden.
Dein Anblick in den letzten, bangen Stunden.
Der Geisseln Wuth. Dein Haupt von Dorn umwunden.
Dein schweres Kreuz und—ach!—Dein bittres Scheiden.
Herr, Du bewegest mich mit solchem Triebe,
Das ich Dich liebte, wär’ kein Himmel offen.
Dich fürchtete, wenn auch kein Abgrund schreckte;
Nichts kannst Du geben, was mir Liebe weckte;
Denn würd’ ich auch nicht, wie ich hoffe, hoffen,
Ich würde dennoch lieben, wie ich liebe.”
The teaching of Thomas Aquinas has often been so represented as though it were pure subjectivism. It is true that much of his teaching sounds quite subjectivistic (cf. e.g. Summ. theol. 1a. q. 80, art. 1, especially the objections and replies as well as the passages in which he declares that the happiness of each is the highest and final end, asserting even of the saints in heaven that each rightly desires more his own blessedness than the blessedness of all others). Along with these, however, are to be found statements in which he soars above this subjectivistic view as, for example, when he declares (as Plato and Aristotle before him and Descartes and Leibnitz after) that everything which exists is good as such, not good merely as a means but also—a point which pure subjectivists (as recently Sigwart, Vorfr. d. Ethik, p. 6) expressly deny—good in itself, and again, when he affirms that in case any one—an impossible case—had at any time to choose between his own eternal ruin and an injury to the Divine love, the right course would be to prefer his own eternal unhappiness.
There the moral feeling of western Christendom touches the feeling of the heathen Hindu, as is shown in a somewhat strange story of a maiden who renounces her own everlasting blessedness for the salvation of the rest of the world; as also that of a positivist thinker like Mill when he declares sooner than bow in prayer before a being not truly good, “to hell he will go.” I knew a Catholic priest who, on account of this utterance of Mill’s, voted for him at the parliamentary election.
Whoever, as I have said, has once accepted the view that nothing can please except in so far as it is really good, nothing displease, except in so far as it is really bad, is on a way which, if consistently followed, must lead him to subjectivism. This is evident as soon as it is admitted (and at first sight, it is true, it may be denied) that opposite tastes, here desire, there dislike, may be associated with the same sense phenomenon. One might, in defence, argue that here, in spite of the similarity of the external stimulus the corresponding subjective idea may have an essentially different content. But such a view refutes itself in those cases where we ourselves repeatedly experience the same phenomenon, and, in consequence of a further development in age or by reason of a changed habit (cf. text 25, p. 16) thereby experience a different feeling, dislike for desire, or desire for dislike. There remains, then, no doubt, that as a fact the feelings may take an opposed attitude towards the same phenomenon: and again, in the case where ideas instinctively repel us, while at the same time arousing within us a pleasure of a higher kind (cf. note 32, p. 92), what has been said is also clearly evident.