For if the moment
anything becomes good it refers all its goodness to something beyond
its own walls, should we ever be able to discover an object endowed
with goodness at all? The knife is good in reference to the stick of
wood; the wood, in reference to the table; the table, in reference to
the writing; the writing, in reference to a reader's eyes; his eyes,
in reference to supporting his family--where shall we ever stop? We
can never catch up with goodness. It is always promising to disclose
itself a little way beyond, and then evading us, slipping from under
our fingers just when we are about to touch it. This meaning of
goodness is self-contradictory.
And it is also too large. It includes more to goodness than properly
belongs there. If we call everything good which is good _for_,
everything which shows adaptation to an end, then we shall be obliged
to count a multitude of matters good which we are accustomed to think
of as evil. Filth will be good, for it promotes fevers as nothing else
does. Earthquakes are good, for shaking down houses. It is inapposite
to urge that we do not want fevers or shaken houses. Wishes are
provided no place in our meaning of good. Goodness merely assists,
promotes, is conducive to any result whatever. It marks the functional
character, without regard to the desirability of that which the
function effects.
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