phenomenon as it actually exists, the simple fact is in general all
encrusted over with collateral associations, derived from sympathy, from
love, and still more from fear; from all the forms of religious feeling;
from the recollections of childhood and of all our past life; from
self-esteem, desire of the esteem of others, and occasionally even
self-abasement. This extreme complication is, I apprehend, the origin of
the sort of mystical character which, by a tendency of the human mind of
which there are many other examples, is apt to be attributed to the idea
of moral obligation, and which leads people to believe that the idea
cannot possibly attach itself to any other objects than those which, by
a supposed mysterious law, are found in our present experience to excite
it. Its binding force, however, consists in the existence of a mass of
feeling which must be broken through in order to do what violates our
standard of right, and which, if we do nevertheless violate that
standard, will probably have to be encountered afterwards in the form of
remorse. Whatever theory we have of the nature or origin of conscience,
this is what essentially constitutes it.

The ultimate sanction, therefore, of all morality (external motives
apart) being a subjective feeling in our own minds, I see nothing
embarrassing to those whose standard is utility, in the question, what
is the sanction of that particular standard? We may answer, the same as
of all other moral standards--the conscientious feelings of mankind.
Undoubtedly this sanction has no binding efficacy on those who do not
possess the feelings it appeals to; but neither will these persons be
more obedient to any other moral principle than to the utilitarian one.
On them morality of any kind has no hold but through the external
sanctions. Meanwhile the feelings exist, a feet in human nature, the
reality of which, and the great power with which they are capable of
acting on those in whom they have been duly cultivated, are proved by