also recognise as a psychological fact the possibility of its being, to the individual, a good in itself, without looking to any end beyond it; and hold, that the mind is not in a right state, not in a state conformable to Utility, not in the state most conducive to the general happiness, unless it does love virtue in this manner—­as a thing desirable in itself, even although, in the individual instance, it should not produce those other desirable consequences which it tends to produce, and on account of which it is held to be virtue.  This opinion is not, in the smallest degree, a departure from the Happiness principle.  The ingredients of happiness are very various, and each of them is desirable in itself, and not merely when considered as swelling an aggregate.  The principle of utility does not mean that any given pleasure, as music, for instance, or any given exemption from pain, as for example health, are to be looked upon as means to a collective something termed happiness, and to be desired on that account.  They are desired and desirable in and for themselves; besides being means, they are a part of the end.  Virtue, according to the utilitarian doctrine, is not naturally and originally part of the end, but it is capable of becoming so; and in those who love it disinterestedly it has become so, and is desired and cherished, not as a means to happiness, but as a part of their happiness.

To illustrate this farther, we may remember that virtue is not the only thing, originally a means, and which if it were not a means to anything else, would be and remain indifferent, but which by association with what it is a means to, comes to be desired for itself, and that too with the utmost intensity.  What, for example, shall we say of the love of money?  There is nothing originally more desirable about money than about any heap of glittering pebbles.  Its worth is solely that of the things which it will buy; the desires for other things than itself, which it is a means of gratifying.  Yet the love of money is not only one of the strongest moving forces of human life, but money is, in many cases, desired in and for itself; the desire to possess it is often stronger than the desire to use it, and goes on increasing when all the desires which point to ends beyond it, to be compassed by it, are falling off.  It may be then said truly, that money is desired not for the sake of an end, but as part of the end.  From being a means to happiness, it has come to be itself a principal ingredient of the individual’s conception of happiness.  The same may be said of the majority of the great objects of human life—­power, for example, or fame; except that to each of these there is a certain amount of immediate pleasure annexed, which has at least the semblance of being naturally inherent in them; a thing which cannot be said of money.  Still, however, the strongest natural attraction, both of power and of fame, is the immense aid they give to the attainment of our other wishes;