The Nature of Goodness | Page 4

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work effectively, then we know that a good knife is at work. Or,
looking at the matter from another point of view, whenever the handle
of the knife neatly fits the hand, following its lines and presenting no
obstruction, so that it is a pleasure to use it, we may say that in these
respects also the knife is a good knife. That is, the knife becomes good

through adaptation to its work, an adaptation realized in its cleavage of
the wood and in its conformity to the hand. Its goodness always has
reference to something outside itself, and is measured by its
performance of an external task. A similar goodness is also found in
persons. When we call the President of the United States good, we
mean that he adapts himself easily and efficiently to the needs of his
people. He detects those needs before others fully feel them, is
sagacious in devices for meeting them, and powerful in carrying out his
patriotic purposes through whatever selfish opposition. The President's
goodness, like the knife's, refers to qualities within him only so far as
these are adjusted to that which lies beyond.
Or take something not so palpable. What glorious weather! When we
woke this morning, drew aside our curtains and looked out, we said "It
is a good day!" And of what qualities of the day were we thinking? We
meant, I suppose, that the day was well fitted to its various purposes.
Intending to go to our office, we saw there was nothing to hinder our
doing so. We knew that the streets would be clear, people in amiable
mood, business and social duties would move forward easily. Health
itself is promoted by such sunshine. In fact, whatever our plans, in
calling the day a good day we meant to speak of it as excellently
adapted to something outside itself.
This signification of goodness is lucidly put in the remark of
Shakespeare's Portia, "Nothing I see is good without respect." We must
have some respect or end in mind in reference to which the goodness is
reckoned. Good always means good for. That little preposition cannot
be absent from our minds, though it need not audibly be uttered. The
knife is good for cutting, the day for business, the President for the
blind needs of his country. Omit the _for_, and goodness ceases. To be
bad or good implies external reference. To be good means to further
something, to be an efficient means; and the end to be furthered must
be already in mind before the word good is spoken.
The respects or ends in reference to which goodness is calculated are
often, it is true, obscure and difficult to seize if one is unfamiliar with
the currents of men's thoughts. I sometimes hear the question asked
about a merchant, "Is he good?"--a question natural enough in churches
and Sunday-schools, but one which sounds rather queer on "'change."
But those who ask it have a special respect in mind. I believe they

mean, "Will the man meet his notes?" In their mode of thinking a
merchant is of consequence only in financial life. When they have
learned whether he is capable of performing his functions there, they go
no farther. He may be the most vicious of men or a veritable saint. It
will make no difference in inducing commercial associates to call him
good. For them the word indicates solely responsibility for business
paper.
A usage more curious still occurs in the nursery. There when the
question is asked, "Has the baby been good?" one discovers by degrees
that the anxious mother wishes to know if it has been crying or quiet.
This elementary life has as yet not acquired positive standards of
measurement. It must be reckoned in negative terms, failure to disturb.
Heaven knows it does not always attain to this. But it is its utmost
virtue, quietude.
In short, whenever we inspect the usage of the word good, we always
find behind it an implication of some end to be reached. Good is a
relative term, signifying promotive of, conducive to. The good is the
useful, and it must be useful for something. Silent or spoken, it is the
mental reference to something else which puts all meaning into it. So
Hamlet says, "There's nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it
so." If I have in mind A as an end sought, then X is good. But if B is
the end, X is bad. X has no goodness or badness of its own. No new
quality is added to an object or act when it becomes good.

IV
But this result is disappointing, not to say paradoxical. To call a thing
good only with reference to what lies outside itself would