How are we to know what is right and wrong, and what
are our motives for approving and disapproving the good and the bad?
Fitzjames uses phrases, especially in his letters, where he is not
arguing against an adversary, which appear to be inconsistent, if not
with utilitarianism, at least with the morality of mere expediency. Lord
Lytton, some time after this, wrote to him about his book, and he
replies to the question, 'What is a good man?'--'a man so constituted
that the pleasure of doing a noble thing and the pain of doing a base
thing are to him the greatest of pleasures and pains.' He was fond, too,
of quoting, with admiration, Kant's famous saying about the sublimity of
the moral law and the starry heavens. The doctrine of the 'categorical
imperative' would express his feelings more accurately than Bentham's
formulae. But his reasoning was different. He declares himself to be a
utilitarian in the sense that, according to him, morality must be built
upon experience. 'The rightness of an action,' he concludes, 'depends
ultimately upon the conclusions at which men may arrive as to matters of
fact.'[150] This, again, means that the criterion is the effect of
conduct upon happiness. Here, however, we have the old difficulty that
the estimate of happiness varies widely. Fitzjames accepts this view to
some extent. Happiness has no one definite meaning, although he admits,
in point of fact, there is sufficient resemblance between men to enable
them to form such morality as actually exists.

But is such morality satisfactory? Can it, for example, give sufficient
reasons for self-sacrifice--that is, neglect of my own happiness?
Self-sacrifice, he replies, in a strict sense, is impossible; for it
could only mean acting in opposition to our own motives of whatever
kind--which is an absurdity.[151] But among real motives he admits
benevolence, public spirit, and so forth, and fully agrees that they are
constantly strong enough to overpower purely self-regarding motives. So
far, it follows, the action of such motives may be legitimately assumed
by utilitarians. He is, therefore, not an 'egoistic' utilitarian. He
thinks, as he says in a letter referring to his book, that he is 'as
humane and public-spirited as his neighbours.' A man must be a wretched
being who does not care more for many things outside his household than
for his own immediate pains and pleasures. Had he been called upon to
risk health or life for any public obje