A look at another peculiarity of the ethical universe, as we find it, will still further show us the philosopher's perplexities. As a purely theoretic problem, namely, the casuistic question would hardly ever come up at all. If the ethical philosopher were only asking after the best _imaginable_ system of goods he would indeed have an easy task; for all demands as {202} such are _primâ facie_ respectable, and the best simply imaginary world would be one in which _every_ demand was gratified as soon as made. Such a world would, however, have to have a physical constitution entirely different from that of the one which we inhabit. It would need not only a space, but a time, 'of _n_-dimensions,' to include all the acts and experiences incompatible with one another here below, which would then go on in conjunction,--such as spending our money, yet growing rich; taking our holiday, yet getting ahead with our work; shooting and fishing, yet doing no hurt to the beasts; gaining no end of experience, yet keeping our youthful freshness of heart; and the like. There can be no question that such a system of things, however brought about, would be the absolutely ideal system; and that if a philosopher could create universes _à priori_, and provide all the mechanical conditions, that is the sort of universe which he should unhesitatingly create. But this world of ours is made on an entirely different pattern, and the casuistic question here is most tragically practical. The actually possible in this world is vastly narrower than all that is demanded; and there is always a _pinch_ between the ideal and the actual which can only be got through by leaving part of the ideal behind. There is hardly a good which we can imagine except as competing for the possession of the same bit of space and time with some other imagined good. Every end of desire that presents itself appears exclusive of some other end of desire. Shall a man drink and smoke, _or_ keep his nerves in condition?--he cannot do both. Shall he follow his fancy for Amelia, _or_ for Henrietta?--both cannot be the choice of his heart. Shall he have the {203} dear old Republican party, _or_ a spirit of unsophistication in public affairs?--he cannot have both, etc. So that the ethical philosopher's demand for the right scale of subordination in ideals is the fruit of an altogether practical need. Some part of the ideal must be butchered, and he needs to know which part. It is a tragic situation, and no mere speculative conundrum, with which he has to deal.