the edifice of physical science is really constructed of conclusions logically inferred from self-evident premises, may reasonably demand that any practical judgments claiming philosophic certainty should be based on an equally firm foundation.  If, on the other hand, we find that in our supposed knowledge of the world of nature propositions are commonly taken to be universally true, which yet seem to rest on no other grounds than that we have a strong disposition to accept them, and that they are indispensable to the systematic coherence of our beliefs,—­it will be more difficult to reject a similarly supported assumption in ethics, without opening the door to universal scepticism” (’Methods of Ethics,’ 6th ed., pp. 506, 507).]

But while this question of egoism and altruism has thus been recognised as a possible source of perplexity, affecting the ethical standard itself, both egoists and orthodox utilitarians have commonly agreed—­though for different reasons—­to insist that morality means the same for them both, and to hold with Epicurus that “we cannot lead a life of pleasure which is not also a life of prudence, honour, and justice.”  It is only in quite recent days that a thoroughgoing attempt has been made to revalue all the old standards of morality.  And the attempt is made from a point of view which is certainly not altruistic.  The Utilitarian writers of last generation, if they admitted the conflict of egoism and altruism, weighted every consideration on the side of altruism.  They emphasised therefore the agreement between their own utilitarian doctrine and the Christian morality in which altruism is fundamental.  On the other hand, the more recent tendency to which I refer emphasises and exalts the egoistic side, and thus accentuates the difference between the new moral code—­if we may call it moral—­and the Christian morality.

The boldest and most brilliant exponent of this tendency is Friedrich Nietzsche[1], already the object of a cult in Germany, and an author to be reckoned with as one of the new forces in European thought.  It is true that some of the most characteristic products of his genius are closely akin to the insanity which clouded his later years.  Yet it is impossible to read his writings without recognising his penetrating insight as well as his abundance of virile passion.  Besides, in spite of all his extravagances—­or, perhaps, because of them—­he is symptomatic of certain tendencies of the age.  Nietzsche’s demand is for nothing less than a revision of the whole moral code and a reversal of its most characteristic provisions.  And he has the rare distinction of being a writer on morality who disclaims the title of ‘moralist.’

[Footnote 1:  Friedrich Nietzsche, the son of a clergyman, was born in Saxony in 1844.  In 1869 he became Professor of Classical Philology in Basel, and held this post for ten years, though his work was interrupted by ill-health for a long period.  His first book was published in 1871; the preface to the last was dated “on the 30th of September 1888, the day on which the first book of the Transvaluation of all Values was completed.”  He became hopelessly insane in 1889, and died in 1900.  The reader will find a luminous estimate of his work in the essay on “The Life and Opinions of Friedrich Nietzsche” in Pringle-Pattison’s ‘Man’s Place in the Cosmos,’ 2nd ed., 1902.]