\C>1\ 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Interlibrary \Smc 
 
 Due 
 
 
 ^APR 6 
 
 1981F. < 
 
 
 
 AC ^ 
 
 ^ 'Kiy^'S^ 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN 
 
 U. S. A. 
 
 cSf 
 
 NO. 23233 
 
 BJ1011 ^SkVasT'^ """"' 
 
 V.2 
 
 The science of ethics. 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 031 045 135 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031045135 
 
THE 
 
 Science of Ethics 
 
 REV. MICHAEL CRONIN, M.A, U.D. 
 
 Professor of Ethics and Politics 
 
 University College, Dublin 
 National University of Ireland 
 
 VOLUME II 
 SPECIAL ETHICS 
 
 PRINTED IN IRELAND 
 
 NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS 
 L ^9" 
 
B-3 o<oO 
 
 First Edition ... ... 191 7 
 
 Second „ ... ... 1922 
 
 .i.l .III 53 0.' 
 
 Y s\ h r. i? ' . ! 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 
 Dn Natural Religion (pp. 1-46) — 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Definition ........ 
 
 I 
 
 Nature ........ 
 
 3 
 
 Presuppositions of religion 
 
 5 
 
 How ordinary men may know of God's 
 
 J 
 
 existence by natural reason . 
 
 6 
 
 Necessity and ground of religion . 
 
 II 
 
 Objections . . 
 
 12 
 
 Erroneous theories of Kant and others . 
 
 13 
 
 The acts of religion ..... 
 
 15 
 
 Vices opposed to religion .... 
 
 20 
 
 Superstition . . . 
 
 20 
 
 Irreligion ...... 
 
 22 
 
 Man's duty of loving God .... 
 
 23 
 
 Appendix — 
 
 
 The primitive races and natural religion 
 
 31 
 
 The alleged pre-reUgious period 
 
 32 
 
 
 40 
 
 Monotheism — the earliest stage in histon 
 
 f 
 
 of religion .... 
 
 ■ 43 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A Man's Duties Concerning Himself and some of 
 HIS Duties towards Others (pp. 47-79)— 
 Our duties towards ourselyes . . . . 48 
 
 On Suicide . . . . . . .52 
 
 On the indirect compassing of one's own death 56 
 
IV 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 A Man's Duties — continued 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Our duties towards ourselves — continued 
 
 
 On Temperance ..... 
 
 • 59 
 
 Law of temperance , . , 
 
 
 . 60 
 
 in eating and drinking 
 
 
 . 60 
 
 in regard to sex 
 
 
 . 63 
 
 Some duties towards others. 
 
 
 . 66 
 
 Charity ... v , , ■, • 
 
 
 . 66 
 
 Speaking the truth 
 
 
 . 69 
 
 Mental restrictions ) . 
 
 
 • 77 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 
 Our Duties towards Others, continued — 
 
 On 
 
 Justice (pp. 80-112) — 
 
 
 General Observations . . . _ . 
 
 . 80 
 
 Commutative Justice — ^its ground 
 
 . 81 
 
 —its end . 
 
 . 84 
 
 Whether it is lawful to kill animals 
 
 . 86 
 
 Personal injuries ..... 
 
 • 93 
 
 Whether criminals may be put to death 
 
 • 93 
 
 Whether an innocent man may be put to de 
 
 ath 96 
 
 Killing in self-defence .... 
 
 . 97 
 
 Accidental killing .... 
 
 . 103 
 
 Duelling .... 
 
 . 105 
 
 Injures to liberty . . 
 
 . log 
 
 Injuries to honour, reputation, friendship . 
 
 . no 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 On Private Ownership and on Communism (pp. 113- 
 
 149)— ' 
 
 Definition of private ownership , . . .113 
 
 Kinds of private ownership . . . .114 
 
 Grounds of private ownership ... . 115 
 
 The individual interest . . . 118 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 V 
 
 On Private Owubrship^— continued 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The family interest 
 
 . 122 
 
 The general interest . . .• 
 
 . 126 
 
 Duties attaching to ownership 
 
 • 133 
 
 The natural titles of ownersh.p . 
 
 . . 136 
 
 Occupancy . 
 
 • . ' 137 
 
 Labour . ... 
 
 • 143 
 
 • Gift 
 
 • 144 
 
 Bequest . . 
 
 • 145 
 
 Intestate succession 
 
 . : 146 
 
 Certain civil titles of ownership — 
 
 !'■ 
 
 Prescription 
 
 • • 147 
 
 Accretion . 
 
 ■ 149 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 
 Socialism (pp, 150-184)— 
 
 
 
 . 150 
 
 History of modern socialism 
 
 ., 152 
 
 Karl Marx . .... 
 
 . . 156 
 
 Syndicalism . 
 
 . . ' 160 
 
 Grounds of Socialism . . . . 
 
 . 160 
 
 The materialistic view of history . 
 
 . 162 
 
 Supposed law of concentration in capi 
 
 tal . 163 
 
 Smaller industries not disappearing 
 
 . 163 
 
 No tendency to unlimited concentra- 
 tion in large industries , . . .174 
 
 Such concentration as exists is not in 
 direction of socialism . . i, . 186 
 
 CHAPTER Vr 
 
 Grounds of Socialism, continued — (pp. , 185-235)— 
 
 The surplus-value of labour ^ , . 185 
 
 Manual labour not the only factor in pro- 
 duction — importance; of industrial abiUty 187 
 
VI 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Grounds of Socialism— co«/j«Mci 
 
 The surplus-value of labour — continued 
 
 A third factor in production — the natural 
 
 sources 
 Some difficulties answered . 
 Crises ...... 
 
 Are they necessary under capitalism 
 
 Causes of crises 
 Are they possible under socialism . 
 The exploitation of labour . 
 The reserve-army of labour 
 The ' iron-law ' of wages 
 
 Recent modifications of the ' iron law 
 
 PAGE 
 
 194 
 199 
 201 
 203 
 204 
 209 
 214 
 217 
 220 
 223 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Present Wages and Socialist Incomes Compared 
 (pp. 225-252)— 
 Explanation of problem — position of wage-earners 
 Division of national income in 1904-5 . 
 
 Summary of result ..... 
 Incomes under socialism . . 
 
 Difficulty — the theory that under socialism 
 absolute loss is impossible .... 
 
 221 
 228 
 232 
 235 
 
 248 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Remaining Defects of Socialism — Summary of Case 
 against Socialism (pp. 253-297) — 
 Effect of Socialism on — 
 Public as producers 
 Public as buyers .... 
 .Resumption of arguments against socialism 
 Financial impossibility of sociaUsm 
 Socialism opposed to human welfare 
 
 Socialism and the individual interest 
 
 254 
 257 
 260 
 260 
 ^61 
 265 
 
CONTENTS vii 
 
 Remaining Defects— coniwMerf page 
 
 Socialism opposed to human welfare — continued 
 
 Socialism and the family interest . 268 
 
 Socialism and the general interest . 271 
 
 Limits of lawful nationalisation . . . . 275 
 
 Appendix A — 
 
 Nationalisation of the land .... 280 
 The systems of private ownership in land 280 
 Whether land can be privately owned . 281 
 Necessity of private ownership in land . 282. 
 Inefficacy of propo'sed methods for 
 
 eliminating private ownership . . 284; 
 Inefficacy of methods for administering the 
 land under socialism .... 286- 
 Appendix B — 
 
 Nationalisation of the coal-mines . . 289. 
 
 Appendix C — 
 
 Nationalisation of unearned increment in 
 
 building-sites 290 
 
 Appendix D — 
 
 Theory of primitive communism in land . 291 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 On Contracts (pp. 298-312) — 
 Definition . . . . 
 Consent . . 
 
 Effect of error on consent 
 ,, fear „ 
 
 Object of contract 
 The contracting parties 
 Kinds of contract 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 278 
 299 
 3or 
 
 305 
 306- 
 
 3091 
 309 
 
 Some Particular Contracts fpp. 313-353) — 
 
 Promise ........ 313 
 
 Gift . 314 
 
vm 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Some Particular Cohtracts— continued 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Buying and selling 3i5 
 
 Obligations of sel] 
 
 er . 
 
 
 
 
 • 315 
 
 The just price 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 316 
 
 Auction sales 
 
 
 
 
 
 320 
 
 Monopolies 
 
 
 
 
 
 325 
 
 Contracts of chance 
 
 
 
 
 
 326 
 
 Bailments 
 
 
 
 
 
 328 
 
 Loan of money 
 
 
 
 
 
 32S 
 
 Just rate of interest 
 
 
 
 
 333 
 
 The wages-contract 
 
 
 
 
 334 
 
 Its nature 
 
 
 
 
 335 
 
 The minimum just wage 
 
 
 
 343 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 
 
 
 
 The wages-contract, continued — On Strikes (pp. 354- 
 
 371)— 
 
 Definition and kinds of strikes .... 354 
 
 Morality of strikes .• 355 
 
 The simple or direct strike .... 356 
 
 Conditions of a just strike . . . 360 
 
 The trades-union executives . . . 363 
 
 The sympathetic strike .... 364 
 
 The general strike ..... 369 
 
 The remedy ....... 370 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 On Injustice in regard to Property and on 
 Restitution (pp. 372-84) — 
 SteaUng .... 
 Duty of restitution 
 
 Possession mala fide 
 Possession bona fide 
 Doubtful ownership 
 
 374 
 377 
 377 
 379 
 380 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 IX 
 
 On Injustice in regard to Property— 
 
 continued 
 
 page 
 
 Damage 380 
 
 Duty of restitution ...... 383 
 
 Co-operation 383 
 
 
 The Family and Marriage (pp. 385-41^) — 
 
 Definition of society 385 
 
 Kinds of society 
 
 
 
 . 387 
 
 The family .... 
 
 
 
 388 
 
 Marriage . . . . . 
 
 
 
 389 
 
 Ends of marriage . 
 
 
 
 390 
 
 Necessity of marriage . 
 
 
 
 392 
 
 Causes or springs of marriage 
 
 
 
 400 
 
 Positivist opinions . 
 
 
 
 402 
 
 Theory of primitive promiscuity 
 
 
 
 404 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The Attributes of Marriage (pp. 415-460) — 
 
 Primary and secondary laws . . . < 415 
 
 Unity of marriage 
 
 
 
 419 
 
 Monogyny versus Polygyny . 
 
 
 
 419 
 
 Monandry versus Polyandry . 
 
 
 
 425 
 
 Indissolubility of marriage . 
 
 
 
 429 
 
 By the primary principles of natural law 
 marriage must endure untU the family is 
 fuUy reared 
 By the secondary principles of natural law 
 marriage is absolutely indissoluble, lasting 
 to the end of life 
 Case of infertility 
 The natural impediments . 
 Consanguinity 
 
 Parent and child marriages 
 Bi other and sister marriages 
 
 430 
 
 435 
 441 
 442 
 443 
 444 
 4^7 
 
X THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The Attributes of Marriage — continued ' page 
 Consan guinity — continued 
 
 The remote degrees . . 4 ^j 9 
 
 Endogamy and exogamy . . . 451 
 Appendix — historical 
 
 Polygyny : Polyandry : Indissolubility . 455 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 The State — Its Nature, Origin and End (pp. 461- 
 
 
 503)— 
 
 
 Definition 
 
 . 461 
 
 Origin 
 
 462 
 
 The State — a natural institution . 
 
 471 
 
 End of State 
 
 472 
 
 On governmental interference 
 
 ^77 
 
 in regard to marriage 
 
 479 
 
 education . 
 
 486 
 
 Appendix— 
 
 
 The Social Contract Theory . 
 
 491 
 
 Theory of Hobbes, Kant, etc. 
 
 491 
 
 Theory of Suarez and Card. Bellarmine 
 
 499 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 
 The State — its parts (pp. 504-556) — 
 
 
 The people 
 
 504 
 
 On nationalities ..... 
 
 507 
 
 Territory . . . 
 
 513 
 
 Authority of State ..... 
 
 515 
 
 Grounds of poKtical authority 
 
 515 
 
 Titles „ „ 
 
 517 
 
 Popular election . . 
 
 519 
 
 Possession 
 
 519 
 
 Conquest ..... 
 
 521 
 
 Prescription . . . . 
 
 532 
 
 Popular consent . 
 
 532 
 
 Exclusive ability to gcfvem . ' . 
 
 537 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 xi 
 
 The State — its parts — continued page 
 
 Consequences of authority . . ' . . 538 
 
 Rebellion 
 
 
 
 540 
 
 Attributes of authority 
 
 
 . 
 
 544 
 
 Unity . 
 
 
 
 
 544 
 
 Sovereignty . 
 
 
 
 
 545 
 
 Conception of 
 
 
 
 
 545 
 
 Content of 
 
 
 
 
 548 
 
 Necessity of . 
 
 
 
 
 551 
 
 Seat ol . 
 
 
 
 553 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 The Forms of State— Constitutions (pp. 557-598) — 
 
 Classification of forms 
 
 • 557 
 
 Unitary and federal States . 
 
 
 
 563 
 
 Confederations and aUiances 
 
 
 
 565 
 
 Constitutions .... 
 
 
 
 567 
 
 Definition .... 
 
 
 
 567 
 
 Kinds .... 
 
 
 
 568 
 
 Monarchy ..... 
 
 
 
 570 
 
 Aristocracy .... 
 
 
 
 574 
 
 Democracy .... 
 
 
 
 575 
 
 Swiss referendum and initiative 
 
 
 
 576 
 
 The best State .... 
 
 
 
 584 
 
 Appendix— 
 
 Prerogative of EngHsh monarch 
 
 
 
 592 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 The Fdnctions of Sovereignty (pp. 599-632) — 
 
 Legislation .... 
 
 
 
 599 
 
 Relation of civil to natural law 
 
 
 
 599 
 
 Organ of legislation 
 
 
 
 600 
 
 The party system 
 
 
 
 601 
 
 The dual-party system . 
 
 
 
 604 
 
 The two-chamber system 
 
 
 
 606 
 
 The case of dead-lock . 
 
 
 
 609 
 
 The executive .... 
 
 
 
 610 
 
xu 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The Functions of Sovereignty— cow^mwe^i 
 The judicial function . 
 Duties of judges . 
 
 „ advocates 
 Trial by jury 
 Separation of the powers 
 
 Effects of over-separation 
 Parliamentary government 
 Cabinet government . 
 The administrative courts 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 International Law (pp. 633-679) — 
 Subjects of international law 
 Kinds of ., ,, 
 
 Nature of 
 
 The natural precepts of international law 
 Justice. .... 
 Charity .... 
 
 Principle of non-intervention 
 Treaties ...... 
 
 War 
 
 Definition ..... 
 Kinds ..... 
 
 Lawful war always defensive 
 Killing in war is indirect 
 Combatants and non-combatants . 
 Air-raids and sinking of merchant ships 
 • Reprisals ..... 
 
 Conditions of just war . 
 Close of war . . . 
 
 PAGE 
 614 
 614 
 616 
 617 
 618 
 623 
 626 
 628 
 630 
 
 633 
 635 
 636 
 630 
 647 
 654 
 655 
 657 
 663 
 663 
 663 
 664 
 
 666 
 669 
 672 
 
 673 
 674 
 677 
 
 APPENDICES 
 
 The Financial Impossibility of Socialism 
 Argument Drawn from Laws of Patents and Copy- 
 eight in Favour of the Gradual Socialisation of 
 Capital . . . . . . ., 
 
 Natural and Revealed Religion . 
 
 681 
 
 682 
 684 
 
THE 
 
 SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION 
 
 DEFINITION 
 
 By religion * is meant the worship of God, the supreme 
 origin, cause, and ruler of the world. Natural religion 
 is the worship of God as determined by reason alone : 
 or, more fully, it is that body of religious truths and 
 the duties resulting from them which our reason 
 makes known to us without revelation. 
 
 * The derivation of the word is uncertain. Some derive it from 
 relegere, a reiterated reading of or thinking upon the things of God ; 
 some from re-eligere or the constant choice of God ; others from 
 re-ligare, i.e., a continued binding of the soul to, or union with God. 
 Mr. Westermarck derives the word from re-ligare, but considers that 
 it arose out of the practice common to certain savage races of binding 
 sacred things in cloths or rags. 
 
 Our definition given in the text, which is evidently based upon the 
 essentials of religion in its highest form — monotheism, at once suggests 
 the diffi ulty that many of the lower forms of religion were true at 
 least in part, and therefore that they ought to find a place in our 
 definition of religion. It will be found, however, that the essentials 
 of these primitive forms are preserved in our definition of religion, a 
 proof of which is that our definition, as will presently be seen, is in 
 almost all respects the same definition that is adopted by those who 
 attempt to define religion by abstracting from the various primitive 
 religions their common content (see p. lo). In any case, in defining 
 religion according to its highest form, which is monotheism, we are 
 only following the analogy of the various sciences which in defining 
 their terms make use only of the developed conceptions of science, 
 ignoring all discarded ideas and beliefs as either inadequate or untrue. 
 The primitive religions have disappeared. They have been finally 
 repudiated by civilised men. Polytheism is not the accepted doctrine 
 of any developed people to-day. In this fact alone, apart altogether 
 from what is revealed by a critical examination of these primitive 
 religions taken in themselves, we find ample evidence of their untruth 
 
 VOL. II — I I 
 
2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Our duties towards God are of two kinds, those de- 
 pending on charity and those depending on justice. By 
 charity we are bound to the love of God our final end. 
 Justice prescribes the rendering to God of all the worship 
 due to God as the first cause, as creator and sovereign 
 ruler of the world, from whom we have received our 
 being, and on whom we are totally dependent in every 
 need of existence and of life. By charity we are bound 
 to God as one with us, all love being based on the unity 
 of the thing loved with the lover.* As a part of justice 
 religion defines our duties to God as distinct from us, 
 and God's rights as against us. As a part of charity 
 religion binds the soul to God, its highest good, as a 
 virtue of justice religion consists in the payment to 
 God of what we owe Him, and thus getting out of His 
 debt. 
 
 Now in a wide sense f religion may be regarded as 
 comprising all of our duties to God, those of charity and 
 those of justice. But in its stricter sense it is confined 
 to the worship of God as defined by justice alone. It is 
 as a part of justice that we shall consider natural Religion 
 in the present chapter : at the end of our discussion, 
 
 or their inadequacy, and, therefore, we are justified in defining religion 
 according to the form which it attains in its highest development. 
 " He," says Eucken ("The Truth of Religion," p. i) " who wishes to 
 ascertain the intrinsic truth of religion need neither trace its blurred 
 beginnings in time nor pursue its slow ascent, but may take his stand 
 upon the summit of its development." It is, however, our intention 
 in the present chapter, and so far as the purpose of this work permits, 
 to give ample consideration to these primitive religions. 
 
 * See Vol. I. p. 320. 
 
 ■f It is in this broad sense that St. Thomas uses the word in S. 
 Theol,, II. II. Q. LXXI. art i, where he speaks of religious worship 
 as due to God, " cui principaliter alligari debemus tamquam inde- 
 ficienti principio : ad quem etiam nostra electio assidue dirigi debet, 
 sicut in ultimum finem." He defines religion in its more precise sense 
 as a part of justice in the third article of the same question where he 
 writes : "ad religionem pertinet exhibere reverentiam uni Deo 
 secundum unam rationem ; in quantum scilicet est primum principium 
 creationis et gubernationis rerum " ; and again in the first article of 
 the same question — " dominium convenit Deo secundum propriam et 
 singularem quandam rationem ; quia scilicet ipse omnia fecit ; et 
 quia summum in omnibus rebus obtinet principatum ; et ideo specialis 
 ratio servitutis ei debetur, et talis servitus nomine latriae designatur." 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 3 
 
 however, will be added a brief consideration of man's 
 duty to God as grounded on charity.* 
 
 THE NATURE OF RELIGION 
 
 The definition which we have just given will enable 
 us to distinguish three elements that go to make up the 
 complete notion of religion, viz. the object, the motive, 
 and the act of religion. 
 
 The object of religion is God. All religious honour is 
 paid to Him, and finally rests in Him. Now there are 
 some creatures who stand in very close and intimate 
 relationship with God, who are His special friends, to 
 whom it is given in an especial way to reflect His glory, 
 who also by Divine appointment occupy an intermediate 
 position between God and man, sometimes acting as 
 intercessors for man, and sometimes as God's special 
 representatives and emissaries. To these also religious 
 honour is given of a secondary kind and in a secondary 
 and dependent way only. They are honoured, not for 
 themselves, but merely as God's friends and representa- 
 tives. The first and final object of all religious honour 
 is God. 
 
 The motive of religious worship is man's indebtedness 
 to, and dependence on, the Supreme Being. Our in- 
 debtedness to, and dependence on God are of the most 
 complete and absolute kind. First, He is our creator, our 
 first cause, the ultimate principle of our being. From 
 Him we have received all that we are and have. More- 
 over, as our creator He is also the sustainer of our 
 existence. Without His helping hand we should dis- 
 solve into the nothingness out of which we came. In 
 Him, therefore, we live and move and have our being. 
 Secondly, God is the supreme ruler of the universe. 
 
 * A difference between religion as a part of justice and religion as 
 a part of charity that follows from the fundamental difference given 
 in the text is that religion as a part of justice relates to the things to 
 be done in order to satisfy our indebtedness to God ; charity relates 
 to God Himself immediately and directly. 
 
4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 From Him proceed all the laws, physical and moral, by 
 which the world (and man in particular) is directed 
 to its end. He, therefore, is supreme lord and master, 
 and in Him is the fullness of power and authority in 
 regard to all creatures. We are, therefore, in a position 
 of absolute dependence on God, dependent on His good- 
 ness for what we are and have, and dependent upon 
 His authority as supreme ruler of the universe. The 
 virtue of religion, as a part of justice, consists in the 
 acknowledgment of this condition of dependence and 
 in paying off our debt to the Divine goodness, in so far 
 as in us lies, by acts of religion. 
 
 The act of religion is worship. As we have seen, our 
 indebtedness to God is of a very special kind, and 
 worship is the act whereby we acknowledge this special 
 indebtedness. Just as there are special acts whereby 
 a child acknowledges its own position of subjection and 
 the father's position of authority, and other acts whereby 
 the supremacy of a monarch is acknowledged, so also 
 there must be special acknowledgment of our indebted- 
 ness to, and dependence on, God ; and the act whereby 
 we acknowledge this special indebtedness is worship.* 
 Love and reverence may be paid to creatures : worship 
 is given to God alone. We love a person for the goodness 
 that is in him ; we reverence those who excel in good- 
 ness ; but worship is extended only to the infinite and 
 incommunicable excellence of the Supreme Being. 
 
 We should, of course, in acknowledging our relation to 
 God, express not only our own condition of dependence, 
 but also the special excellence of God, His greatness, 
 independence, and majesty, as compared with us. But 
 these are the opposing terms of the one relation, and, 
 therefore, they are expressed by the same act. " By 
 one and the same act," writes St. Thomas, " we acknow- 
 ledge the excellence of God (the act of homage— cm/^ms) 
 and our condition of subjection (servitus) ; and worship 
 
 * S. Theol., 11., II., LXXXI., 4. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 5 
 
 is due on both accounts." * But justice regards not 
 so much the excellence of the giver, as ^le indebtedness 
 of him who receives ; and, therefore, religion as a part 
 of justice will primarily regard and be based upon the 
 indebtedness and dependence of the creature in regard 
 to God. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 This being the nature of religion, it follows that any 
 supposed forms of worship which fail to fulfil the con- 
 ditions we have enumerated are not to be regarded- as 
 religions in the true sense or even as parts of the true 
 religion. What are sometimes spoken of as nature- 
 worship, soul-worship or animism, fetish-worship, are 
 not real religions but shadows only, or spurious imita- 
 tions of religion. The feelings that animate these so- 
 called forms of worship may, indeed, present certain 
 analogies to the religious feeling, just as the fear of a 
 man presents analogies to our fear of God. But just as 
 the fear of a man has not in it even the first beginnings 
 of religious worship, this latter being proper to God 
 alone, so also there is only one kind of worship which 
 is really religious, viz. the worship of the true God. 
 The rest is false religion, superstition, or, as we have 
 said, the shadow of religion only. What these spurious 
 religions are, and what is their relation to the worship 
 of the true God, and how they originated, are questions 
 of great importance ; they will be considered in a later 
 portion of the present chapter. 
 
 THE PRESUPPOSITIONS OF RELIGION 
 
 Without a knowledge of God there could be no re- 
 ligion. We cannot worship that which we do not know. 
 This knowledge and the divine truths to which it relates 
 
 * II., II., Q. LXXXI., Art. 3. 
 
6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 are spoken of as the presuppositions of religion. These 
 presuppositions we now proceed to define. 
 
 (i) In the first place we must know that God exists. 
 A man could not worship that which is either known to 
 be non-existent or the existence of which is doubtful. 
 Religion is the giving up of one's whole heart and soul 
 to God, and only he who knows and believes that God 
 exists is capable of such an act. Two conclusions follow 
 — first, that since religious worship is a duty, it is our 
 duty also to know God ; secondly, that wherever re- 
 ligion exists or has existed, there God either is known or 
 has been known — His name either is, or once was, upon 
 the lips and in the hearts of the people. Now a know- 
 ledge of God's existence may be acquired in either of 
 two ways — either by revelation or by the use of our 
 natural reason. It is the second kind of knowledge, 
 that, viz. which is acquired by our natural reason, that 
 forms the first and chief presupposition of natural 
 religion. 
 
 How ordinary men may know of God's existence by natural 
 reason alone. 
 
 A problem of great interest and importance here suggests 
 itself. Since religion in some form has always existed 
 amongst men, and since religion is the possession not merely 
 of men who are scientifically equipped for the pursuit of 
 difficult reasoning, but of ordinary men also, the question 
 arises how it is possible for the ordinary mind, without the 
 aid of revelation, to come to a knowledge of God's existence. 
 It should of course be remembered, in considering a question 
 of this kind, that for his knowledge the individual is very 
 rarely left to his own resources, that he has always access to, 
 and is, in a sense, necessarily the recipient of the conclusions 
 yielded by the combined thinking of the race or tribe to 
 which he belongs, that most races, even those least learned 
 and civilised, have their special thinkers and teachers, and 
 that to these also the individual can have recourse on problems 
 whose full solution he might regard as exceeding his own 
 individual capacities. The form, therefore, in which our 
 present problem presents itself is whether there are any 
 proofs available for God's existence which he within the 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 7 
 
 mental compass of any ordinary individual who cared not 
 only to use his own powers of observation and reasoning but 
 also to avail himself of such intellectual aids as are ordinarily 
 afforded to the individual by his social environment, even 
 amongst the least civilised races ? 
 
 Our answer (which must be exceedingly brief in form, 
 this question being rather one for the science of Natural 
 Theology than for Ethics) is that there are many ways in 
 which a knowledge of God could be brought home even to 
 the ordinary uneducated mind by reason alone and without 
 the aid of revelation, (a) In the first place the plainest and 
 most unthinking man must realise that the world has a 
 cause. That events are produced by causes is a proposition 
 which no ordinary intellect would think of rejecting. The 
 category of cause is as simple and necessary as the category 
 of being itself. Kant and Hume may raise certain meta- 
 physical objections to causality, but these objections would 
 not occur to, or, if they occurred to, would certainly have 
 no weight with ordinary minds. To the plain man it is an 
 obvious truth that the things that he sees around him have 
 not brought themselves into existence, that he himself has 
 not caused his own existence, that his parents are not the 
 full cause of his life since there is so much in the body and 
 mind of man which they do not understand and which they 
 could not possibly contrive, that they themselves are caused 
 by some one outside of themselves, etc. His mind thus 
 naturally travels up to the thought of One who has made 
 all things, the founder and creator of the universe.* (b) 
 Secondly, to the ordinary mind the evidences from design 
 are not only most intelligible but most convincing also. 
 The general order of the world suggests the thought of a 
 mind over-shadowing and over-ruling all ; the element of 
 design evident in every living thing, in the aptitude of every 
 organ for the performance of its own functions, and in the 
 sum of the organs for providing for all the necessities of our 
 
 • Judging from the attestation of those who have had most 
 opportunity of examining and analysing the beliefs of early man, this 
 line of reasoning is not merely to be regarded as a possible ground for 
 his religion — it seems to have been actually also the ground of his 
 beliefs. Ed B. Tylor attests that the religious beliefs of the savage 
 races were due not to " spontaneous fancy " but to the " reasonable 
 inference that effects are due to causes." And Mr. J. Buchan in his 
 interesting work, " The First Things," quotes a series of answers 
 given to him by savages as to the ground of their religious belief. In 
 every case their belief was found to be based ultimately on what to 
 them was the obvious necessity for a first cause of all things. 
 
8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 life,* this probably more than any other consideration, not 
 only brings the ordinary mind to a knowledge of the Creator, 
 but brings men also into close touch with God as the supreme 
 ruler, as one who cares for and superintends the things of 
 this world, is kind and bountiful to His creatures, and desires 
 their happiness, (c) Again, though, as we saw in an earUer 
 chapter in this work, I the mere existence of a distinction 
 between good and evil and the recognition of this distinction 
 by conscience is not itself a proof of God's existence, yet the 
 conviction of reason that good action calls naturally for 
 reward, that evil action renders a man liable to punishment, 
 that somehow and somewhere the wrongs of this world will 
 have to be righted, that compensation is to be had for pain 
 and suffering unjustly bofne, in general terms, that the world 
 is a reasonable world, which it would not be if the tyrant 
 and the robber and the murderer had not awaiting him some 
 retribution for his evil life, all this brings back the mind and 
 heart of man to the thought of a moral governor, of One 
 who will bring all things to a good end, who has pity for 
 suffering, and will defend the noble, the just, the pure, and 
 the truthful, and equalise the losses of virtue with gains a 
 hundredfold. It would, indeed, be difficult to put this 
 argument into a form that would completely satisfy the 
 logician and the sceptic, but it is an argument which makes 
 a powerful appeal both to the ordinary and the educated 
 mind. Our reason revolts at the idea of wrongs for ever 
 unrighted. It is satisfied and tranquiUised at the thought 
 of One who is empowered to bring to actual effect those 
 compensations without which the world and hfe would be 
 not only bitter but unbearable, (d) Finally, the heart of 
 man opens at the thought of One who will bring perfect 
 happiness to man J or who will supply the conditions under 
 which such happiness is attainable. Why this burning desire 
 for happiness arising out of the very nature of the human 
 heart, this longing which no finite thing can satisfy, if perfect 
 happiness is nowhere obtainable ? Without God man is 
 an unintelUgible riddle ; through the thought of God the 
 
 * For instance, the fact that animals and men are provided so 
 fully with the organs necessary for the reception, mastication and 
 digestion of food, evidently with a view to the maintenance of life. 
 
 t Vol. I., p. 472. 
 
 } This argument is quite distinct from that just given. The 
 present argument does not suppose the existence of injustice, tyranny, 
 and other evils. It is an argument that would hold even in a perfect 
 world. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 9 
 
 whole world, and in particular the world of man, comes to 
 have a meaning, and becomes rational and intelligible. 
 
 In these several ways the thought of the ordinary man 
 and even of primitive man rises easily to the conception of 
 God, the creator and ruler of the universe. The arguments 
 we have quoted are not all that are available for the existence 
 of God. They are only the arguments that appeal to ordinary 
 uneducated minds. As they stand they are not even correct 
 but require to be modified in many ways in order to be 
 brought up to the standard of strict scientific proof. But 
 they are accurate in the main, and they make instant appeal 
 to the humble and uncritical mind not hindered in its natural 
 operation by vanity and prejudice.* 
 
 (2) Religious worship is the acknowledgment of man's 
 absolute dependence on God and of God's supreme 
 mastership and authority over man. This dependence 
 is grounded on the fact that God is the first cause of 
 all things, that all that we are and have are from Him, 
 and, therefore, this truth that God is the first cause 
 and creator of the world is another necessary presup- 
 position of all religion. For most minds, however, this 
 second presupposition is contained in or is itself a pre- 
 supposition of the first, since for most minds the argu- 
 ment based on the necessity of a first cause is itself the 
 clearest and most potent proof of God's existence. 
 
 (3) We honour and reverence that which is possessed 
 of excellence of any kind. Now worship is honour of 
 the highest and fullest 'kind. It is honour without 
 limitation and so it can only be paid to One who has in 
 Him the fullness of excellence. Religion, therefore, sup- 
 poses not merely the existence of God, but the existence 
 
 * It is in determining the attributes of the Deity that the primitive 
 mind should almost of necessity go astray. The Deity might present 
 itself as a living being but corporeal, or as a spirit with some material 
 attributes. It is impossible to think that the savage mind could 
 without revelation come to a perfect conception of the attributes of 
 the Supreme Being. But it is to be remembered that these errors 
 of the savage, even though important and far-reaching, do not 
 necessarily deprive his religion of all value as a mode of acknowledging 
 the Divine excellence and man's indebtedness to God — the first cause 
 and ruler of the world. 
 
10 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of a God of infinite majesty and goodness. Nor is it 
 difficult even for tlie ordinary mind to come by this 
 idea of the infinite excellence of God. For a Being who 
 is the first cause of all must have in Him all possible 
 excellences, since it is from Him that all excellences 
 proceed. 
 
 (4) Religious worship would not be paid to a being 
 who stood out of all relation to the universe, who had 
 no care for it, and no desire for worship and love. In 
 other words religion presupposes not merely the existence 
 of a supreme cause but also of a supreme moral governor 
 of the world, of One who not only has a right to expect 
 but actually does also expect reverence and homlage 
 from men, who demands obedience to the laws of nature 
 which are His creation, and who will reward the ob- 
 servance of those laws and punish their violation. This 
 presupposition, however, is, like the second, for many 
 minds a part of or at the root of the first, since for many 
 minds it is an essential part of the proof of God's ex- 
 istence.* 
 
 • It will be found that all these presuppositions are present even 
 in the lowest forms of primitive religion. Naturally, the character 
 under which the Divinity is viewed in the different religions varies 
 with the form of the religion. The polytheistic religions, for instance, 
 acknowledge the excellence of various gods and man's dependence on 
 them — monotheism the excellence of the Supreme Being. Again, in 
 some the excellence most emphasised is that of power, in others 
 bountifulness, in others holiness. But in all we find recognised the 
 existence of a Divinity, His excellence, man's dependence on the 
 Divinity, and some sort of intimate relation of the Divinity with the 
 Universe. This is most easily seen by examining those definitions of 
 religion which have been formed by various writers in order to express 
 the characteristics common to all religions. Morris Jastrow ("The 
 Study of Religion," p. 171), for instance, explains these common 
 elementsjin all forms of religion as the recognising of a power or powers 
 superior to us and beyond our control, the feeling of dependence 
 on this power, and entering into relations with it ; Ladd (" The 
 Philosophy of Religion," p. 89) mentions the following : a belief in 
 invisible superhuman powers, a feeling of dependence, a sense of 
 responsibility to those powers. J. G. Fiazer (" The Golden Bough," 
 I. 63) and Tiele (" Elements of the Science of Religion," II. 194I give 
 the same conditions in other forms. 
 
 We think it ri^ ht to explain that worship may still be true religious 
 worship even though it is the power of God and not His goodness in 
 the sense of His bountifulness that is most emphasised. The power 
 of God is to be regarded as a Divine excellence iust like His bountiful- 
 
NATURAL RELIGION it 
 
 THE NECESSITY AND GROUND OF RELIGION 
 
 That God exists and is known to exist, that He is 
 the first cause of the universe, that He is infinitely 
 perfect and is the supreme moral governor are, as we 
 have seen, necessary presuppositions of religion, in the 
 sense that no form of worship can, be regarded as a 
 religion without them. But these truths are also the 
 grounds on which religion is based and they demonstrate 
 its necessity. For, once it has been proved, as it is 
 proved in Natural Theology, on the ground of clear 
 established fact,* that God exists, is infinite, and is the 
 creator of the world, etc., it then becomes our clear duty 
 to acknowledge God, His power and goodness, and to 
 offer Him the special homage due to His position and 
 His greatness. Thus : 
 
 (a) God, being the first cause of the world, we depend 
 on Him for all that we are and have. As our creator 
 God possesses a full and special right of ownership over 
 man, stronger and clearer than any other ownership 
 known to the world. And being our owner He is our 
 supreme lord and master, and His supremacy must be 
 recognised and acknowledged by. special acts of homage 
 not given to any other being. This special homage is 
 the homage rendered in religious worship. 
 
 (b) God is not only the first cause of the world but 
 He is a Being of infinite majesty and excellence. God's 
 majesty and excellence are not only greater and grander 
 than the excellence of any creature : they are different 
 in kind : they transcend all other excellences : they 
 
 ness and His beauty. Writers, therefore, are not justified in claiming 
 that the religious rites of certain primitive races were not religious in 
 the proper sense because "it is strength rather than goodness that 
 primitive man admires, worships, fears" — {See A. H. Sayce, "The 
 Religions of Ancient Egypt and Babylonia.") 
 
 * Other than the existence of religion. You could not argue that 
 religion presupposes the existence of God, that, therefore, since religion 
 exists, God exists, and that consequently religion is necessary. The 
 argument would be a vicious circle. The facts alluded to in the text 
 are those facts enumerated in Natural Theology which form the 
 starting point of our proofs of God's existence. See S. Theol. Pars 
 Prima, II. 3. 
 
12 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 are the cause and source of all. And, therefore, to God 
 we owe special acts of homage and reverence different 
 from those offered to any creature. 
 
 (c) God is not only the owner and founder of the 
 universe : He is its supreme ruler and governor. From 
 Him proceed all the laws, physical and moral, by which 
 are determined the being, the structures, the needs, and 
 requirements of all things, and also the courses, move- 
 ments, actions proper to their nature. Every natural 
 law, physical and moral, comes directly from God ; 
 human laws have all their authority ultimately from 
 Him. If, therefore, special honour must be paid to kings 
 because of their special function and prerogative as 
 ruler, to God must be paid the highest and profoundest 
 homage of which the mind and heart of men are capable 
 — a homage reserved for Him alone, and befitting in so 
 far as anything in or from us can be said to befit His 
 greatness. 
 
 Objections. 
 
 (i) It is impossible that our acts should ever befit the 
 Divine Majesty. Anything that man can do in God's honour 
 falls short of what is due to God. 
 
 Reply. — ^The highest of human acts would indeed be 
 utterly unworthy of God were it not for the Divine con- 
 descension which recognises man's impotence to do more 
 than the things lying within the scope of his human faculties, 
 and at the same time is willing to accept his homage, not 
 for what it is in itself, but for what a true child of God would 
 wish it to be, i.e., something worthy of the Divine Majesty.* 
 The value of our acts, says St. Thomas, is to be computed 
 not from what they are in themselves but " secundum 
 quamdam considerationem humanae facultatis et divinae 
 acceptionis." f 
 
 (2) Since God is infinite He has in Himself all that is 
 noble and excellent and desirable, and, therefore, our worship 
 can add nothing to His greatness. The homage of the 
 
 * " Never anything can be amiss 
 
 When simpleness and duty tender it." 
 
 — (Midsummer Night s Dream) 
 t II II. , LXXXX. 5, ad. 3. . 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 13 
 
 creature would, therefore, seem to be useless and out of 
 place. 
 
 Reply. — («) Our duty to God is measured not by what our 
 acts confer on God but by what we owe Him. And we owe 
 Him the fullest reverence and allegiance. The child gives 
 to its father in token of love many things that the father 
 does not require. The subject in token of allegiance presents 
 his sovereign with things that a sovereign possesses a hundred- 
 fold, {b) Even if no glory were conferred on God by our 
 actions, yet to worship and love God is to confer a perfection 
 on ourselves, (c) Though by our actions we add nothing to 
 the intrinsic greatness of the Supreme Being, yet our worship 
 does increase His external glory. 
 
 Two Erroneous Theories. 
 
 (i) The considerations put forward in the present section 
 to establish the necessity and assign the grounds of religion 
 serve to bring into clear relief a great and important truth, 
 viz. that religion is a special virtue, and that there exists 
 a particular and special duty of the religious worship of 
 God. Now, in a remarkable work, entitled, " Religion within 
 the Limits of Reason," * Kant makes himself responsible 
 for the theory that religion consists wholly and exclusively 
 in the leading of a good life, in preserving one's self free from 
 stain, in doing our ordinary duty for duty's sake. In other 
 words there is, according to this writer, no special virtue of 
 religion outside of and distinct from the other moral virtues, 
 and man is under no special obligation of worshipping the 
 Divinity. The same theory is commonly defended by 
 ordinary men, as a justification for their neglect of all religious 
 practices. To lead a good life, they say, is religion enough 
 for me. God cannot be displeased with me as long as I 
 observe the ordinary moral laws. 
 
 Now such an expression of opinion is not only false and 
 without foundation of any kind in reason, but is also a 
 grave insult to God and a denial of His sovereign rights. 
 Children should not only observe the commands of their 
 parents and refrain from offending them, but they should 
 render to their parents special love and reverence. A loyal 
 subject, particularly one who has access to his sovereign, 
 not only refrains from disobeying the king's commands, 
 but also renders him special homage, befitting the rank 
 and majesty of a sovereign ruler. To come into the presence 
 
 * part IV, ch. 6. 
 
14 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of a monarch, and to decline to pay him any marks of special 
 reverence on the ground that observance of his laws is all 
 that a monarch may justly claim of his subject, would be a 
 grave insult, and a positive irreverence to the person of the 
 monarch and to his position. But Almighty God holds a 
 position raised far above that of any earthly monarch, and 
 His dignity and excellence transcend the excellence of 
 saints and angels and " thrones and dominations." And, 
 therefore, we owe Him special homage and reverence such 
 as no creature may claim or accept even if offered by us. 
 It is true that the acts of the other virtues such as temperance, 
 benevolence, purity of hea.rt, fall under the control of rehgion 
 and if done out of a reUgious motive may be made into 
 reHgious acts [commanded acts of rehgion). But rehgion has 
 its own special acts {elicited acts) just hke the other virtues, 
 and to dechne to observe the special duties imposed by 
 religion is to decline to acknowledge God's special greatness 
 and His special claims upon His creatures. " God's do- 
 minion," writes St. Thomas,* " is of a proper and special 
 nature, for He has made all things, and is the supreme ruler 
 . of all, and, therefore. He has a right to special worship." 
 
 (2) Another erroneous view may usefully be examined 
 here. We have seen that religion supposes and is based 
 upon our knowledge of God, upon the clear apprehension 
 that God exists, that He is a Being of transcendant excellence, 
 etc. Intellectual certitude and clear intellectual knowledge 
 of a real Divinity beyond us are the first presupposition and 
 the chief ground of all religious worship. 
 
 Now there are writers who have tried to show that religion 
 is based not on the clear knowledge of a hving God, but on 
 feeling, the feeling of some vague unreality felt as lying 
 outside of the known world, but suggested to our imagina- 
 tions by association with the thought of the known world. f 
 This finite world, it is said, suggests to our imaginations 
 an infinite world or the illimitable ; time suggests the time- 
 less, space the spaceless. In this way we come to think of 
 something mysterious, unapproachable, awful, majestic ; 
 and it is this thought that elicits in us the act of religious 
 reverence and worship. 
 
 • S. Theol. II 11^., Q. LXXXI., Art. i. 
 
 t The theory is taught in one form or another by various wellr 
 known philoi^ophers, e.g. Schleiermacher, Max Muller, Von Hartmann. 
 The various forms of the tlieory can be seen in such works as E. S. 
 Waterhouse's " Modern Theories of Religion," and Caldecott's 
 " Philosophy of Religion." 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 15 
 
 But how foreign all this is to the real character of religious 
 worship may easily be shown. Religious worship has in it 
 just those elements that are present in the*thought of a 
 child about its father, of a loyal subject about his sovereign, 
 but magnified, enriched, transformed so as to befit and 
 express the special excellence and greatness of the Divine 
 Majesty. It includes love, honour, adoration, sorrow at 
 goodness offended, hope in the Divine greatness and con- 
 descension, desire for the fuller glory of God amongst men, 
 and everything else that comes of sonship, loyalty, and 
 devotion to One who is worthy of every honour. We could 
 not love a mere shadowy vacuity ; we could not honour an 
 abstraction, an unreahty, however immense and undefined ; 
 we could not imagine a mere abstraction offended, or pleased, 
 or bountiful, or wise, or patient, or issuing commands, or 
 accepting and expecting honour or love from men, all of 
 which belongs to the very essence of religious worship. The 
 theory, therefore, that religion is based, not on the clear 
 intellectual knowledge of God, but on the feeling of the 
 unlimited, deprives religion of everything that the world 
 from the beginning has regarded as essential to its substance. 
 
 THE ACTS OF RELIGION 
 
 We have to distinguish between commanded and 
 elicited acts of religion. Religion may prompt us to, 
 or command, any virtuous act. It may urge us to love 
 our parents, to be patient, benevolent, temperate. 
 These are spoken of as commanded acts of religion. 
 But just as the virtues of temperance and benevolence 
 have their own special acts, so there are certain acts 
 proper to the virtue of religion also, acts to which we 
 are urged by this virtue alone. They are called elicited 
 acts of the virtue of religion. It is these elicited acts 
 that form the special object of the present discussion. 
 
 Again, acts of religion are either internal or external 
 according as they are acts of mind only, or involve the 
 use of the bodily faculties and organs also, like speech 
 and movement. Religion is primarily internal, an act 
 of the mind ; first, because it is mind that makes an 
 act human and purposeful, and, secondly, because it is 
 
i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 through the mind that we are capable of conceiving and 
 addressing the Divinity. But external acts are also 
 necessary. The external act is always secondary, that 
 is, it has a value only as connected with the internal 
 act. But it has its proper place in all religious worship, 
 and for the following reasons :^- 
 
 (i) External acts are the natural supplement of 
 internal thought and desire. It is quite natural for 
 man to express his inner thought and emotion by out- 
 ward signs. Men are not minds only : they are made 
 up of soul and body, and even our most abstract thought 
 is naturally accompanied by external movement. If, 
 therefore, there is question of expressing one's self to 
 God it is right that all a man's expressive power both 
 of soul and body should be utilised in the act. The 
 man whose heart is full of the love of God would compel, 
 if he could, not only his own tongue but the whole 
 earth also to recite God's praises. 
 
 (2) We belong to God not in soul only but in our 
 bodies also ; and hence, in as much as our bodily 
 members can unite with mind in reciting God's praises, 
 they ought to be used to this end. 
 
 (3) External worship is necessary to internal. By 
 our bodily acts we not only express but also concentrate 
 and intensify the inner act of mind. " Worship," says 
 Father Rickaby, " mostly of the silent sort, worship 
 that finds no expression in word or gesture — worship 
 away from pealing organs and chants of praise, or the 
 simpler music of the human voice, where no hands are 
 uplifted, nor tongue loosened, nor posture of reverence 
 assumed, becomes with most mortals a vague, aimless 
 reverie, a course of distraction, dreaminess, and vacancy 
 of mind, no more worth than the meditations of the 
 Lancashire stone-breaker who was asked what he thought 
 of during his work — ' Mostly nowt.' " 
 
 (4) Men are by nature social. It is natural to them 
 to communicate their thoughts to one another in regard 
 to the things of common interest and also to unite in 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 17 
 
 common action for the realisation of those interests. 
 The people come together to celebrate a victory. To- 
 gether they greet the heroes of the baittle-field, cheer 
 for them, pay tribute to them. Together also they 
 throng to hail and honour their sovereign. Now God 
 is the common Father and Sovereign of men. It is, 
 therefore, natural that they should worship Him to- 
 gether, that not only should their hearts be raised to Him 
 individually, but also that they should sing His praises 
 in chorus. And since it is through external acts that 
 men communicate with one another and act in concert, 
 so external acts are necessary for the fullness of religious 
 worship * 
 
 In all this reasoning, however, it is supposed that the 
 external act is such as befits the holiness and sacredness 
 of religious worship. To be suitable for religious worship 
 it should fulfil three conditions. First, it should be 
 united to and inspired by inner reverence — external 
 sacrifice for instance without inner reverence is not only 
 not religious, it is an insult to God. Secondly, it should 
 be such an act as is, considering both the requirements 
 of nature and also human understandings and con- 
 ventions, capable of expressing the interior act to which 
 it is joined. Thirdly, there should be nothing disgraceful 
 or ludicrous in an outward act which is to form part of 
 the Divine service. All these conditions are expressed 
 by St. Thomas when he says that the reason why the 
 externals of idolatry provoked the just derision even of 
 a pagan like Seneca was because men used outward 
 actions in religious services, not as signs of, or as helps to, 
 inner reverence, but as things of value in themselves 
 even though divorced from inner worship, and also because 
 the external acts in which they sought to honour God 
 
 * It is sometimes objected that the external act taken by itself is a 
 mere material, mechanical movement — whereas worship should be 
 human and deliberate. The answer is that when the external act 
 is joined to, is controlled by and forms one whole action with the 
 internal, it is not mechanical but human and personal and free. 
 
 VOL. II — 2 
 
i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 were empty and meaningless and often positively dis- 
 graceful.* 
 
 We now proceed to enumerate in a very general way 
 the acts which are included in latria or religious worship. 
 They are, as we have already shown, internal acts which 
 are principal, and external acts which are secondary 
 and subordinate. 
 
 The internal acts to which our relation to God naturally 
 prompts us are devotion, or the dedicating of one's mind 
 and heart to God, and prayer, by which we confess our 
 dependence on God and ask Him for what we need. 
 
 On the external side it is possible to express ourselves 
 to God in many ways. The first great central act of 
 religion is adoration, in which both mind and body bend 
 low before the greatness of God in acknowledgment of 
 the infinite majesty and our total dependence. Then 
 there are vocal prayer, beseeching God with tongue as 
 well as heart for aid, the oath, in which God's veracity 
 is invoked in confirmation of the truth of our words, 
 thus testifying to God's supreme and unfailing truthful- 
 ness, the vow, by which something is promised in a most 
 sacred manner to God and, therefore, devoted to His 
 service, I 
 
 * II., 11=., LXXXI. 7 ad 3. 
 
 t St. Thomas explains that to perform a virtuous action under 
 vow is better than to perform it without the obligation of a vow : 
 and for three reasons, first, because a virtuous act done under vow is 
 done from the highest virtue and the highest motive, i.e. religion, 
 e.g. an act of temperance done under vow is not only an act of tem- 
 perance but an act of religion in its special and proper sense : secondly, 
 the man who not only performs a virtuous act but vows it, places 
 under subjection to God not only his act but his power to act, for by 
 his vow he surrenders up his power of acting otherwise ; he is, there- 
 fore, in the position of a man who gives to another not merely the 
 fruits of the tree but the tree itself, the power to act being the source 
 and root of each particular action : thirdly', it is more virtuous to 
 perform a good act with a fixed and undeviating will than with a 
 vacillating will. Under the vow the determination of our wills is 
 fixed and final, for by the vow we put ourselves under the gravest of 
 obligations to do the good act. Weaknesses and temptations will 
 always arise to prevent the doing of good. The vow forestalls these 
 weaknesses, and secures the performance of some virtuous and noble 
 work. The vow is the burning of the boats behind one in the fight 
 for God's honour and for the victory of good over evil in our own lives. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 19 
 
 Now, just as many acts of homage paid to a king are 
 also used to reverence lesser dignitaries, so^ of the external 
 acts just mentioned, some are used not only in our rela- 
 tions with God, but also in our dealings with other 
 persons, e.g. raising the hands, bowing the head. Even, 
 however, in the case of these acts it is always understood 
 that any signs of reverence shown by man to God are 
 always meant to signify more than the same things when 
 used in respect to men. 
 
 But there is one special external act used to typify 
 our attitude towards God which has always been re- 
 served for Divine worship alone, not only amongst 
 civilised but among uncivilised peoples also, and which 
 forms the most distinctive of all the external acts of 
 religion, viz. the act of sacrifice. " Sacrifice," says 
 Reinach, " is the crucial part of all cults, the essential 
 bond between man and the Deity." In a wide sense 
 sacrifice means any voluntary offering made to God, 
 but in its strict sense it means an act whereby some 
 material .thing of value is offered to God and destroyed, 
 disrupted, or altered in some way, in token of God's 
 supreme ownership over it and over all things.* Now, 
 the act of sacrifice understood in this latter sense ex- 
 presses in a manner possible to no other act God's 
 supremacy over the whole world, and our complete 
 dependence on God. God has not only given form to 
 the world as men bestow a form on marble and bronze, 
 but He has created it out of nothing, and, therefore. 
 He possesses the fullest ownership over all things. By 
 offering to God some external object of value, in the way 
 described, we acknowledge God's supreme ownership in 
 the fullest way possible to man, since, in the first place, 
 we thereby cancel our own ownership over it ; secondly, 
 we render human ownership of it, so far as can be, im- 
 possible ; and, thirdly, the object sacrificed is offered to 
 God as His absolute property. 
 
 * Sacrifice is intimately connected with the act of adoration. It 
 is an effect and a sign of the heart's adoration. 
 
20 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 THE VICES OPPOSED TO RELIGION 
 
 All vices are indirectly and remotely sins against 
 religion, for all sins dishonour God. But there are vices 
 and sins which offend against this virtue of religion in a 
 most special and formal way, in the same way that 
 intemperate acts violate the virtue of temperance, and 
 robbery violates justice. These vices may be divided 
 under two general headings — (i) superstition (2) irre- 
 ligion. 
 
 (i) Superstition. 
 
 Superstition is any wrong or perverted form of worship. 
 It has always in it the element of Divine worship, but 
 that element is either wrongly used or wrongly directed. 
 It includes two classes of acts : («) the unworthy worship 
 of God, i.e. worshipping Him in a false or absurd manner, 
 for instance, singing profane songs or expecting things 
 from God which ought not to be expected ; (&) giving 
 to other beings the worship that belongs to Gpd alone, 
 of which category of sin the three following are signal 
 examples : — spaying divine worship to another person or 
 thing, i.e. idolatry : foretelling future events by means 
 not naturally destined to make the future known, as 
 in cutting cards, in which act we either assume divine 
 powers to ourselves or attribute them to the means 
 used, i.e. the cards : magic {i.e. attempting, without 
 the help of God, to realise effects that lie completely 
 out of man's power and can be realised by God alone) 
 in which act again we give to some other being honour 
 and acknowledgment that are due only to God. 
 
 St. Thomas Aquinas takes a broad and very sensible 
 view of the moral character of certain of those practices 
 which are usually spoken of as superstitious. Many 
 strange effects, he tells us, may be produced by the invo- 
 cation of demons, and such practices are always and 
 obviously sinful in themselves no matter what the 
 circumstances. But sometimes, he explains, strange 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 21 
 
 effects can be produced without the conscious invocation 
 of demons by the employment of what are apparently 
 quite natural agencies, e.g. cutting cards and the use 
 of certain herbs for curing. Are these practices lawful 
 or are they to be avoided as superstitious ? We shall 
 answer in St. Thomas' own words — " whenever agencies 
 are employed to produce particular effects some enquiry 
 should be made as to whether the agencies employed 
 are naturally capable of producing these effects. If 
 they are, there is nothing illicit in their use ; for there 
 is nothing wrong in utilising causes to produce their 
 proper (natural) effects. But if it should appear that 
 the effects produced are such that the agencies in question 
 could not naturally produce them, then it is evident 
 that these agencies (which we are using) are not really 
 the cause of the effects produced, and that some other 
 power (is producing these effects and) is using what is 
 apparently the agency as a mere outward sign (the real 
 agent and true causal agency being hidden from us). 
 Such effects are wrought in conjunction with some 
 demoniacal power." St. Thomas, however, immediately 
 raises the practical difficulty— how are we to know 
 whether the agency that we are using is not capable 
 naturally of producing the effects in question ? It is 
 exceedingly difficult, he explains, merely by examining 
 a natural object to determine what effects it is able to 
 produce. What, asks St. Thomas, could be more 
 mysterious and unexpected than the power of a magnet 
 to attract iron. Merely by examining the* structure of 
 the magnet one could never be led to expect that it 
 possesses such a property. And, in the same way, may 
 it not be that the natural agencies 'employed in these 
 supposed questionable acts are really capable of producing 
 the mysterious effects referred to without the aid of 
 spirits ? Again St. Thomas answers in a broad and 
 sensible way : if it seems to your reason, he writes, 
 that the effects in question could be produced by the 
 agency in question, i.e. the agency which you yourself 
 
22 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 are using, if the disproportion between the two is not 
 perfectly manifest, then there is nothing illicit in using 
 the agency in question. But if it is manifest to human 
 reason that there is no proportion, that the agency in 
 question could not possibly produce the effect in question, 
 e.g. attempting to foretell the future by looking at 
 certain figures, then your act is certainly superstitious 
 and illicit. St. Thomas in this answer simply assumes 
 that men are possessed of some judgment, of some 
 sense of proportion, that with the aid of common sense 
 and science we should be able to determine that some 
 properties do not belong to certain bodies. Obviously, 
 however, he allows for a large margin of speculation in 
 which certainty is not attainable, in which properties 
 which we regard as not natural may still be real and 
 natural, and may one day become established scientific 
 facts ; and within that sphere he is content merely to 
 warn us that all is not certain, and that until certainty 
 becomes possible there is danger. 
 
 (2) Irreligion. 
 
 In superstition there is always, as we said, some 
 element of Divine worship, but spoiled in some way or 
 wrongly directed. Irreligion is marked by the privation 
 of worship where worship should have a place. It 
 consists in positive irreverence towards the Divinity, or 
 in the doing of acts which are contrary to worship. Any 
 irreligious treatment of God, e.g. contempt of God, 
 daring Him, blaspheming, i.e. wishing evil to God, 
 comes under the head of irreligion ; also irreverence 
 towards things dedicated to God, which irreverence 
 may take the form of sacrilege or simony. 
 
 All the foregoing acts contained imder the two cate- 
 gories of superstition and irreligion are directly and 
 formally opposed to the virtue of religion, the object 
 of which is to give due honour to God, 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 23 
 
 ON man's duty of loving god 
 
 Religion, as we saw, in its strict sejise means the 
 worship of God as defined by justice. In a broad sense 
 it includes also our duties to God, as defined by charity, 
 i.e. our duty to love God our final perfection and end. 
 Before bringing this chapter to a close we wish to say 
 a few words on this duty of loving God. We will sketch 
 briefly the grounds and nature of this obligation in so 
 far as they are defined by natural law, and in so far as 
 they depend on the essential relations of Creator and 
 creature, making abstraction of special benefits con- 
 ferred in particular cases which give rise to special 
 duties of gratitude and affection. 
 
 We must recall to the reader's memory the division * 
 of love into love of desire (amor concupiscentiae) and 
 love of benevolence or friendship (amor amicitiae) because 
 we are bound to love God with both kinds of love ; 
 but the nature of these two as well as the principles in 
 which they issue are very different. 
 
 We may be permitted to quote the following passage 
 from St. Thomas Aquinas f : — 
 
 " As the philosopher says, ' to love is to wish good to 
 another ' ; so, therefore, the movement of love tends to two 
 objects, to the good which one wishes for a person, either one's 
 self or another ; and to the person for whom one wishes the 
 good. Towards the good then which one wishes for some 
 one the love of desire is entertained : but towards the person 
 for whom one wishes that good there is entertained the 
 love of friendship. 
 
 " What is loved with the love of friendship is loved abso- 
 lutely and by itself ; but what is loved with a love of desire 
 is not loved absolutely and by itself but is loved for another. 
 
 " The love wherewith an object is loved that good may 
 accrue to it is loved absolutely, but the love wherewith a 
 thing is loved that it may be the good of another is love in a 
 restricted sense." 
 
 * Vol. I. p. 319. 
 
 t S. Theol., I. II. Q.XXV., Art. 4 — translated by Father Rickaby, 
 S.J. 
 
24 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 From this it is clear that there are two ways in which 
 we can love God. We can love God as good to ourselves, 
 as an end to be enjoyed by us, as a good for us. In 
 that case we love God as means to ourselves only. It 
 is the love of desire. Or we can love or wish good to 
 God for His own sake. That is the love ,of friendship. 
 The first is a very imperfect form of love in comparison 
 with the second. But man has a duty, not in revealed 
 religion only but also in natural law, of loving God with 
 both kinds of love. 
 
 I. God ought to be loved for our own sake. 
 
 There is a natural obligation to love God with the 
 love of desire, of loving Him as our greatest good, as 
 affording us happiness, as perfecting us fully, and in this 
 respect He is to be loved more than any other object. 
 This is clear from the fact that God is man's final natural 
 end. As we saw, only the Infinite good can fill up man's 
 capacity for desire, and, therefore, God is the final end 
 of human life. It follows from this that He ought to 
 be loved above all other ends because all other ends 
 ought to be subordinated to our last end. 
 
 We may add, too, that as " in the arts * there is no 
 limit to the pursuit of their several ends, for they aim at 
 accomplishing their ends to the uttermost," so man 
 ought to aim at this, his last end, with an energy limited 
 by his psychological capacity only. Man ought, then, 
 to love God as his last end more than he loves any other 
 object and with all his strength. 
 
 II. God ought to be loved for His own sake and not 
 merely for the sake of man. 
 
 That God should be loved for His own sake and not 
 merely for the sake of another, even of ourselves, is 
 evident from an enumeration of the ways in which it 
 is possible to love a thing for the sake of another. 
 
 * Aristotle, Politics, I. g. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 25 
 
 We may love anything for the sake of another in four 
 ways according to each of the four causes,* " By way 
 of final cause, as we love medicine for the sake of health ; 
 by way of formal cause, as we love a man for the sake 
 of his virtue . . . : by way of evident cause as we love 
 certain persons because they are the children of such a 
 father : by way of disposition or material cause as we 
 love a thing by virtue of something disposing us to 
 love it, for example, love on account of benefits received, 
 though once we have begun to love we do not love our 
 friend on account of those benefits but on account of 
 his virtue. 
 
 Now in the first three ways God is not to be loved 
 for anything else but for His own sake. For, He is 
 not ordained to another as to an end, being the last 
 end of all : nor is He good by means of anything else. 
 His substance being His goodness : nor is goodness in 
 Him derived from any other, but from Him to all others. 
 In the fourth way God can be loved by reason of some- 
 thing else, i.e. the benefits we have received from Him, 
 etc.," but these things should lead us on to love Him 
 for Himself. 
 
 It is clear then from these arguments which show 
 forth the great distinctive perfection of God, that God 
 is worthy of love for His own sake and not merely for 
 the sake of another, and that we do not carry out our 
 duty of loving God if we do not give Him a personal 
 love of friendship for His own sake. Man ought also 
 manifestly to love God with a higher love of friendship 
 than he bears to any other friend, since God infinitely 
 transcends every possible friend in every lovable quality. 
 But all this will be made clearer and more compelling 
 by our reasoning in the next section. 
 
 III. Man ought to love God more than he loves himself. 
 It was shown in the last paragraph that man owes 
 
 * S. Theol., II. II. Q. XXXVII., Art. 3 
 
26 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 God a love of friendship greater than he gives to any 
 other person. But in the present thesis we go beyond 
 this, and declare that a man must love God not only 
 above all other persons but above oneself. We here 
 reach the critical point in our discussion. It would 
 seem to be psychologically impossible to love God above 
 oneself, for love, as we have already fully shown,* is 
 based on the union of the thing loved with the person 
 loving, and a man is more one with himself than he is 
 with God who is wholly distinct from man. We saw 
 that friendship proper is not entertained towards one- 
 self, but something greater than friendship, because 
 friendship imports union, whereas the relation of a 
 man to himself is unity which goes beyond union with 
 another. Also, as unity is the principle of union, so 
 the love wherewith one loves oneself is the principle and 
 root of friendship ; for our friendship for others con- 
 sists in wishing good to them as we wish it to ourselves, 
 but in a lesser degree, in proportion as they are removed 
 by differences from unity with oneself. All this was 
 shown in our general dissertation on the ground of friend- 
 ship. What would seem to follow is that one may love 
 friends, and God most of all ; but, as they all fall short 
 of that unity with one which each has to himself, the 
 love for them, which is based on union with another, 
 and which starts from it, must necessarily be less than 
 the love of each for himself. The highest expression 
 of such love would be dimidium animae, other persons 
 being always the lesser half of ourselves. And in this 
 respect it is no use to say that God is the infinite good 
 and, so, more loveworthy than oneself. This is quite 
 true, but it ignores the principle on which human love 
 is based, viz. love of self, and of others in so far as they 
 are one with this self. We may call this principle a 
 limitation, an impotence of our will ; but it is part of 
 our nature and governs all our acts. Men are not ex- 
 pected to love men who are better than themselves 
 * Sf^ Vol. I. p. 319, 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 27 
 
 more than they love themselves, and so it might not be 
 surprising if it turned out that man's nature was so 
 constituted that he had to love himself mofe than God 
 whom he nevertheless confessed to be infinitely above 
 him. He might even find a motive for humility in such 
 natural baseness. Indeed, there were writers in the 
 Middle Ages alluded to by St. Thomas * who were so 
 impressed by this difficulty that they frankly declared 
 that the love of God above oneself was wholly impossible. 
 
 We now go on to treat of this difficulty, and we shall 
 draw our chief proof of the duty of loving God above 
 all, even above oneself, from the consideration and 
 solution of it. 
 
 The love of friendship is based on union with the lover. 
 Our fellow-men have a certain union with us in race 
 and nature, and we love them for this : but they fall 
 away in many ways from unity with us. For in us there 
 are many things that are not in them, and by which we 
 are divided from them ; and, therefore, since what we 
 love in ourselves is only partially existent in our fellows, 
 we love them only partially or in a lesser degree than 
 we love ourselves. What we love in ourselves is not 
 in them : but if it were we should love them as much 
 as we love ourselves. We should, of course, still be 
 distinct from them numero and in substance, but our 
 perfections and theirs would be the same specie : and, 
 therefore, our reason fixing upon this identity would 
 at once make it psychologically possible to love them 
 as much as ourselves, and would impose this love upon 
 us as a natural duty. 
 
 Now God is distinct from us numero and in substance, 
 but the perfections that are in us are in Him also, and, 
 therefore, it is possible to love Him with the love of 
 friendship. But God has all that is in us and more, 
 all that we love in ourselves but in a higher degree, and, 
 therefore, following out the principle of love already put 
 forward, we ought to love God as much as ourselves 
 
 f " S. Theol." I. Q. LX., Art. 5, 
 
28 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and more.* Indeed, since every good that is in us is 
 also in Him, and sublimated and raised to infinite ex- 
 cellence, there is no limit to the greatness of the love 
 which a man who really loved himself will give to God. 
 A friend is an alter ego, but lesser : God is an alter ego, 
 but greater, and,, therefore, lovable above the ego. This 
 reason at once dissolves the difficulty and shows that 
 though we ought to love ourselves above all creatures 
 we should love God above ourselves. 
 
 Our relation to God as an object of love may also be 
 viewed in another way which confirms the conclusion 
 now reached. God not only has in Him all the good 
 possessed by us, but His excellence is the cause of all 
 the good that is in us. Now, when what we love de- 
 pends wholly and absolutely on any cause, we love that 
 cause principally, because the loss of the cause would 
 be to us a worse and more radical evil than the mere 
 loss of the loved effect. Therefore, a man ought to love 
 God more than he loves himself. 
 
 Again, God is the essential and infinite goodness, of 
 which every other particle of existing goodness is a 
 participation. Each one's self is such a particle. And 
 if such a small part of what is found in God fires us with 
 love, a fortiori, we ought naturally to be carried away 
 with affection for God, the essential and infinite good. 
 
 Finally, God being the infinite good and the end of 
 man, we are related to Him as part to whole. Now 
 every part, as a part, naturally loves the common good 
 more than its own particular good, in the sense that it 
 refers and ordains its own good to that of the whole. 
 The hand, as St. Thomas says, will automatically expose 
 itself to a blow in order to save the whole body. This 
 implies that our own good and welfare should be sub- 
 jected and referred to God, that the personal love of 
 
 * We should, therefore, not only love God as our end, the attain- 
 ment of whom will give us complete happiness, which is the love of 
 desire only, but we should direct all our happiness, even the final happi- 
 ness of attaining God, to the Divine glory. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 29 
 
 God is the final act to which all other love, even that 
 of ourselves, ought to be ordained. 
 
 IV. The love of God is the highest and best of moral 
 ads* 
 
 In the first place this act is better than any act of 
 intellect for it is an act of the will engaged on the highest 
 and noblest of objects. The intellect is a higher faculty 
 than the will : but certain acts of will are higher than 
 corresponding acts of intellect. As the intellect acts 
 by taking objects into itself, the nobility of the operation 
 depends on the intellect. But the will acts by tending 
 to its object and, therefore, the nobility of the operation 
 is measured by the object. Now, in the case of objects 
 inferior to the soul, acts of intellect are higher than those 
 of will, since these objects are elevated by being taken 
 into the soul : but for a similar reason in respect of 
 objects that are superior to the soul the act of the will 
 is better, f Therefore an act of will loving God is better 
 than any intellectual act. It is also better than any 
 other will-act, for its object is the highest and most 
 noble of all. 
 
 And not only is the love of God for His own sake 
 better than all other acts, but it is the most unselfish of 
 all. Bishop Butler spoke of even the love of God as 
 selfish — a long-sighted selfishness. In a sense this would 
 be true of a love of God that mainly centred in the 
 happiness which the attaining of God would afford the 
 creature. But it is not true of the love of God for His 
 own sake, which is man's highest act, the crown and 
 perfection of all his best work. Kant also considered 
 that the love of God was selfish, that all love was selfish. 
 The only purely unselfish act of which man is capable, 
 
 * This question does not concern the problem whether the attain- 
 ment of the ultimate end is an act of intellect or of will. The present 
 question is — which is our highest moral act ? 
 
 t " S. Theol." II. II., Q. XXIII. Art. 6, ad. i. 
 
30 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 he maintained, and, therefore, the only truly moral act 
 is the doing of one's duty out of respect for duty. And 
 that such an act is most unselfish no one will deny. It 
 is not, however, more unselfish than the love of God for 
 His own sake alone. But in point of nobility and per- 
 fection who would compare them ? The one act con- 
 cerns a pure abstraction, a principle, a skeleton of 
 reality : the other concerns the living God, in whom is 
 every perfection, in whom every abstraction has its 
 living source, every principle its living ground, and in 
 whom is the fullness of all being, of all reality. 
 
 The love of God being the highest moral act of man, 
 it follows that all other virtues without this love of 
 God must be imperfect ; for all virtues presuppose a 
 will fixed and set in the true end of man, and being our 
 highest object He is also our true end. On the other 
 hand, where charity is present all other virtues acquire 
 a merit and a value above that which is proper to them- 
 selves, since acts that are ordained to a higher end than 
 that which is proper to them acquire a new excellence 
 from this end. 
 
 Again, charity being our highest moral act, our moral 
 perfection lies principally in this act of the love of God. 
 But not in it alone. The love of God does not super- 
 sede other human interests : it simply rules them to a 
 higher end, raises them to a higher level. But whereas 
 the love of God is capable of infinite growth, our other 
 affections are limited in their capacity for expansion, 
 it being a rule, as Aristotle says, of all arts and sciences 
 in so far as they are practical, that, whereas the use of 
 the means is limited, the end may always be sought to 
 the uttermost. And so, though human interests are 
 not excluded by, on the contrary, though they may 
 advance along with charity, the wings of charit}- soon 
 leave them far behind, so that in one who is fired with 
 the love of God, other love, though present, will, in 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 31 
 
 comparison with charity, become steadily weaker. In 
 one that loves God above all things all oth^r affections 
 must gradually lose in power and prominence, taking 
 up less and less of the soul's interest and attention. 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 The Primitive Races and Natural Religion 
 
 It win be well before closing the present chapter to consider 
 briefly two questions of great historical importance in con- 
 nection with the subject of natural religion. One is whether 
 a pre-religious period ever obtained in the life of the human 
 race — a period when man had not yet begun to think of 
 God or of anything beyond this world, not a brief period 
 such as on any theory of the origin of reUgion would be 
 required whilst the problems of religion were taking shape 
 and the human mind was preparing itself for their solution, 
 but a lengthened period such as is in general required for large 
 evolutionary changes — the hypothesis of a pre-religious 
 period being altogether a part of the evolutionist theory 
 as applied to rehgion. The second question is whether there 
 is any solid foundation for those many theories which ex- 
 plain religion as nothing more than an extension of, a 
 development from nature-worship, magic, animism, fetishism, 
 or some other production of the untutored imagination of 
 the savage races. Having examined two of these theories, 
 we shall then briefly consider the evolutionist view, which 
 represents monotheism as the last stage in the ascending 
 series of the 'consecutive religious positions occupied by 
 the race of man in its growth upwards from savagery to 
 civilisation. 
 
 Before, however, considering these questions we think it 
 well to remark that whatever may be the answer to them, ' 
 whether primitive man possessed or did not possess a rehgion, 
 whether his religion sprang or did not spring out of nature- 
 worship, and whether fetishism and polytheism did or did 
 not precede monotheism in time, these things in no way 
 affect the question of the validity of monotheism taken in 
 itself, and in no way lessen the claims of rehgion on the minds 
 
32 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of civilised men to-day. In science we do not allow the 
 errors of one period to militate against the general body of 
 scientific truth accepted in the next. So also the true re- 
 ligion must still be regarded as having a claim on our ac- 
 ceptance, whatever may have been the errors of primitive 
 man. 
 
 I. — ^The Alleged Pre-Religious Period 
 
 It is now a good many years since the first appearance 
 of Lord Avebury's remarkable work on the " Origin of 
 Civihsation," wherein, with great show of scholarship, that 
 writer expounded and developed his celebrated theory of a 
 pre-religious period in human development — a view which 
 was based almost wholly on the supposition that to-day 
 many savage races are without rehgion, and that the nearer 
 we get down to the primitive stock the more numerous be- 
 come the cases of reUgionless peoples. Since, he argues, these 
 present-day lower savage races are all instances of arrested 
 development it must needs follow that at least their mental 
 condition is similar in all essential respects to the mental 
 condition of their remote ancestors, and therefore, inasmuch 
 as these present-day representatives of the early races are 
 without religion, the primitive stock must also have been 
 without rehgion. To-day, it is contended, whole races or 
 tribes are in the pre-religious period. Originally this pre- 
 rehgious condition was the condition not of certain peoples 
 only but of the whole human race. 
 
 Criticism. 
 
 (i) Lord Avebury's theory, although it still has its ad- 
 herents, may nevertheless be regarded as steadily losing 
 ground in recent years amongst enquirers of almost every 
 school of thought. The facts of history to which Lord Ave- 
 bury made appeal, and which have been more closely 
 scrutinised in recent times than was possible when Lord 
 Avebury first adopted his theory, will not bear the inter- 
 pretation then put upon them. 
 
 "There is not the same necessity now," writes Prof. 
 Ladd,* "as that which formerly existed for defending 
 the historical truthfulness of this assumption " (viz. that 
 as far back as investigation has been able to bring us there 
 is no trace of a people without religion.) 
 
 * " Philosophy of Religion," I. 120. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 33 
 
 And again, " it is scarcely too much to say that at 
 present all the witnesses on whom Lubbock relied have 
 been shown to have been misled, either by«haste, incom- 
 petence, or prejudice." * 
 
 "Religion," writes De la Saussaye,f "is the specific 
 and common property of all mankind." 
 
 " We find," writes Andrew Lang, J " no race Whose mind 
 as to faith is a tabula rasa." 
 
 " All savages," writes C. H. Brown, § " and half-civilised 
 peoples are intensely rehgious." 
 
 " Hitherto," writes Gustav Roskoff,|| " no primitive 
 people has been discovered devoid of all trace of religion." 
 
 " Whether," says Max Miiller,^ " we descend to the 
 lowest roots of our intellectual growth or ascend to the 
 loftiest heights of modern speculation, everywhere we find 
 religion as a power that conquers, and conquers even those 
 who think that they have conquered it." 
 
 These testimonies, taken at random from the works of 
 modern writers of high authority, are evidence at least of 
 this, that, even though an isolated people, here and there, 
 may have lost its rehgion, no large part of the savage world 
 is without a religion in the sense of never having had any ; 
 and since on the hypothesis of our opponents the savage 
 
 * In addition to these three sources of error others also should be 
 mentioned, e.g. [a) the fact that the true religious beliefs of the savage 
 races are rarely revealed to any others than the initiated of their own 
 tribe. Savage beliefs, writes H. C. Brown (" Bases of Religion," p. 7) 
 contain many " esoteric doctrines designed for the initiated alone . . . 
 who are sworn to secrecy. Outside this kernel an exoteric form for 
 the benefit of the uninitiated is usually put forth that shadows in 
 gross, ambiguous, and misleading terms these inner truths." (i) Even 
 Tylor is constrained to recognise that many investigators seem hardly 
 to have been willing to accept anything short of the established theology 
 as in any sense a religion, (c) Many writers, like Lord Avebury, while 
 acknowledging the existence of the externals of religion still deny to 
 the rites of certain savage peoples the character of a true religion 
 because of the apparent want of a true religious inner motive, magical 
 incantation (a non-religious motive) often, we are informed, taking 
 the place of propitiation or petition which are the proper acts of 
 religion. We can only say that it is exceedingly difficult to discern 
 the inner motives of races so different from ourselves in their whole 
 mentality. Certainly the difference between incantation and petition 
 is not always clearly discernible. 
 
 t " Manual of the Science of Religion," p. 14. 
 
 J " The Making of Religion." 
 
 I " The Bases of Religion, " p. 2. 
 
 il " Das Religionswesen der Rohesten Naturvolker," p. 178. 
 
 ^ " Lectures on the Origin of Religion," p. 5. 
 
34 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 races are instances of arrested development and are now in 
 the same position approximately as their prehistoric ancestors, 
 these testimonies are proof also that it is not lawful hghtly to 
 assume that the primitive races passed necessarily through a 
 long period of unreligion before the concept of God arose in 
 their minds. 
 
 (2) We believe, however, that, essential as it is to produce 
 testimonies of the kind iust given lest the opinions of men 
 Hke Lord Avebury might be regarded as incontestable or at 
 least as unquestioned, what is much more important is that 
 the reader should be given instances of races which were once 
 almost universally regarded as without religion, and which, 
 as the methods of investigation improved, were found to be 
 possessed, behind all the paraphernalia of their very material 
 and often grotesque ritual, of a religion that was not only to 
 some extent spiritual and elevated, but often even mono- 
 theistic. "We shall here consider a few such instances. 
 
 (a) THE NORTH CENTRAL AUSTRALIANS 
 
 Until quite recently this race was deemed universally, 
 mainly on the strength of the testimony of Messrs. Spencer 
 and Gillen,* to be not only wholly without religion but to 
 be still actually in the pre-religious stage — the stage which 
 precedes the appearance of religion. Now it is exceedingly 
 doubtful whether these people have not at present a re- 
 ligion as genuine and good as that of other Australian 
 races. But, whether they have or not, it is now becoming 
 increasingly certain that at one time they were possessed 
 not only of a religion but of a religion which was genuinely 
 monotheistic. The parts of our proof for this proposition 
 may first be given separately and then presented as one 
 complete argument. Firsf, on the admission of Messrs. 
 Spencer and Gillen themselves, there is one exception to 
 their statement that the North Central tribes are without 
 reUgion, viz. the Kaitish tribe. Not only is this people 
 possessed of a religion but their religion is monotheistic. 
 They worship a Supreme Being under the name Atnatu. j 
 Secondly, many other North Central tribes teach the boys 
 undergoing the initiation ceremonies that the All-Father 
 of whom they have been hearing from their parents is a 
 mythical personage invented for the amusement and 
 
 • In their work on the " Northern Tribes of Central Australia." 
 f Spencer and Gillen explain that Atnatu is not regarded as a 
 moral ruler in the sense of rewarding good and punishing evil. This 
 piay or may not be true : but Atnatu is at least the Supreme Being, 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 35 
 
 comfort of women and children. There is still, therefore, 
 amongst these particular tribes a monotheistic religion 
 which is handed down, even now, from parent to child, 
 but which for some reason or other * is now being ousted 
 from the peoples' hearts and understandings. Thirdly, 
 according to Mr. Howitt,f the South Eastern tribes, which 
 formerly were united with the North Central, and which, 
 as Mr. Lang J has shown, are more primitive than the 
 latter tribe, still retain their monotheistic religion, ac- 
 knowledging a Supreme Being under various names and 
 images. 
 
 The argument, therefore, afforded in the present case 
 by the study of Comparative Religion is as follows : there 
 is still amongst the North Central tribes of Australia one 
 undoubtedly monotheistic tribe ; others are plainly en- 
 deavouring to discourage the traditional monotheism which, 
 however, is still being handed down from mother to child 
 in spite of the tribal prohibition ; and the more primitive 
 South Eastern tribes, which once were one with the North 
 Central, still preserve their monotheistic beliefs. The only 
 conclusion possible would seem to be that if the North 
 Central Australians are now without religion (a supposition 
 which is not at all to be regarded as certain) this defect 
 is to be attributed not to their being in the pre-religious 
 stage, as our opponents suppose, but to the fact that they 
 
 * The conception of God has probably suffered much and become 
 itself unacceptable to the men of these tribes on account of the absurd 
 myths and legends that have gathered round it. The savage mind is 
 most prolific in the creation of myths and legends. 
 
 t " The Native Tribes of S.E. Australia," p. 507. Mr. Howitt 
 endeavours to show that in spite of their belief in a Supreme Being-, 
 these people are not really religious on account of the human way in 
 which the Supreme Being is conceived by them. He is supposed 
 to have the shape, the passions, the weaknesses of men. Now such 
 a form of argument is quite unsound for (i) it is natural for savages 
 to imagine their God in human shape as we have already seen, p. g 
 (2) These anthropomorphic representations belong as a rule to the 
 mythical side only of these ancient religions. They are not part of 
 the real doctrine of their religion. We admit, however, that it is 
 often not easy to distinguish doctrine from myth. (3) Howitt 
 himself admits that many S.E. tribes regard their Supreme Being- as 
 invisible and as producing all things, which is very far removed from 
 anthropomorphism. (4) Howitt makes the naive confession that under 
 favourable conditions their present beliefs might have developed into 
 a genuine religion. It is hard to see how such an assertion could be 
 so confidently made unless the beliefs and practices of these peoples 
 had already in them some element of religion. 
 
 J " The Primitive and the Advanced in Totemism." Journal of 
 Anthrop. Inst., 1905. 
 
36 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 , have lost an inheritance which once was theirs, viz. their 
 behef in an AU-Father— the title by which the Supreme 
 Being is most familiarly known amongst these simple 
 peoples. " Since," writes Mr. Jevons, " the appearance 
 of Mr. Howitt's work the evidence that the ideas of the 
 Northern tribes are the result of degradation, and are a 
 degradation from the South Eastern tribes' behef in an 
 AU-Father, has been decisive on the point." 
 
 (6) SOME AFRICAN TRIBES 
 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer and Lord Avebury describe many 
 of the African races as without rehgion. The Hottentots, 
 for instance. Lord Avebury assures us, show no sign of 
 rehgious worship and particularly no sign of the worship 
 of a Supreme Being, his chief argument being that in the 
 pubhc life of the people such worship finds no place.* 
 Now we can only express surprise that Lord Avebury 
 would, with the results of recent investigations before him, 
 make himself responsible for the assertion that where the 
 worship of the Supreme Being forms no part of the public 
 religion of a people. His existence is not acknowledged by 
 them nor His rights recognised. No part of the life and 
 customs of the savage races has been more clearly estab- 
 lished than the unwiUingness evinced by some of these 
 peoples to attempt to propitiate by worship a Being whom 
 they regard as supremely good and just, and whose 
 rulings, therefore, they look on as so perfect as not to be 
 in need of change, particularly at the instance of mere 
 human beings. The lower deities, on the contrary, the 
 attendant spirits, they wiU freely propitiate. 
 
 But Lord Avebury's opinion as to the religionless con- 
 dition of the African tribes has been disproved utterly by 
 the experience of those who have lived amongst and, 
 therefore, were in a position to understand these African 
 races. Mgr. Le Roy who lived amongst the Bantu peoples 
 of Mid-Africa for twenty years, and who was admitted by 
 some of them to witness many of their most sacred rites, 
 thus describes the rehgion of these peoples : f " We have 
 seen that the Hottentots have neither temples nor figures. 
 But frequently we find amongst them as well as among the 
 ' San ' certain consecrated places which they never pass 
 without leaving some small offering, accompanying their 
 
 * " Marriage Totemism and Religion," p. 197 
 t " La Religion des Primitifs," p. 318. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 37 
 
 act with an invocation. ... In all the encampments of 
 the A-Koa and Beku. ... I have found a belief in God 
 set forth in clear and Uving light." He ttien goes on to 
 describe a conversation with one of this poor tribe who 
 explained to him, in a manner that would not be unworthy 
 of a Christian beUever, the tribal belief in the Supreme 
 God the ruler of the world, one who wiU bring the good to 
 rest and condemn the wicked to torments. 
 
 And Le Roy's testimony is borne out by innumerable 
 others. " There is no need," wrote Livingstone, " of 
 beginning to tell the most degraded people of the South of 
 the existence of God or of a future life, both these facts 
 being universally admitted." Dr. Hahn, too, in his most 
 interesting work on the Hottentot tribes,* attests to the 
 beUef of these people in a Supreme Being, the cause and 
 ruler of the world. A recent testimony is that of J. H. 
 West Sheane, F.R.G.S. (native commissioner).! " As with 
 the Bantu J faiths," he writes, " so with the Avemba 
 reUgion, they acknowledge a Supreme Being, Leza, who is 
 above the tutelary spirits of the land. ... He is the 
 judge of the dead, and conderons thieves, adulterers and 
 murderers . . . there is no special worship of Leza, for 
 he is to be approached only by appeasing the inferior 
 spirits who act as intercessors. But, in blessing, the 
 parent beseeches Leza to protect his child," etc. 
 
 (c) THE " GODLESS " ANDAMAN ISLANDERS AND OTHER 
 PYGMY RACES 
 
 For long the Andamanese were regarded as an indis- 
 putable instance of a people without religion. They are 
 in many ways hke beasts, wrote Lubbock, with no idea of 
 higher beings, and no religion. Yet when the Andaman 
 Islanders came to be studied in situ, as A. Lang remarks, 
 by an educated Englishman, Mr. Man, who knew their 
 language and lived with them for eleven years, they were 
 found to be possessed not only of religion but of a high 
 form of monotheism. Their Supreme Being (Puluga), 
 though imaged in material colours, and surrounded by 
 myth such as the savage imagination cannot fail to weave 
 around aU invisible or transcendent things, is nevertheless 
 
 * " Tsuni-||Goam the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi," i.e. of 
 the Hottentots. 
 
 t In Journal of Anthrop. Inst., 1906. 
 
 J These Bantu peoples extend across the South Mid-Continent of 
 Africa from one coast to the other. 
 
38 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 clearly and forcibly and logically conceived. Though like 
 fire, yet, He is "invisible," was "never born," is "immortal"; 
 by Him all things were " created," except the powers of 
 evil : He " knows the thoughts of the heart," is " angered 
 by sin," is " pitiful to those in distress," is the " judge of 
 souls. . . ." * 
 
 Much light has of late been thrown upon the present 
 discussion by the comparative study of the Andamanese 
 beliefs with those of the other peoples which, together 
 with the Andamanese, make up the interesting group known 
 as the Pygmy races. The Pygmy races, if not, as many 
 authorities insist, the oldest, are certainly amongst the 
 oldest and most primitive of the races now existing. 
 Putting aside some doubtful peoples, and certain other 
 peoples of mixed blood, we find included in the Pygmy 
 group five principal races f — the Central African Pygmies, 
 the Bushmen, the Aeta of the Phillippines, the Andamanese, 
 and the Semang tribe of the Malay Peninsula. Though 
 now so widely scattered over the earth, it is believed by 
 scientists that all these races were originally one. What 
 is of interest for our present discussion is that they are 
 all monotheistic in religion.]: In spite of the develop- 
 ment of absurd myth and the anthropomorphisms that 
 accompany it, these poor peoples hold fast by their belief 
 in the Supreme God. Strange to relate, also, they all, in 
 one form or another, practise what is probably the oldest 
 of all species of sacrifice, that, viz. of the first fruits. 
 Probably the most interesting of all these races is the 
 Semang of the Malay Peninsula, the most remote and 
 primitive of men, the least affected by the presence near 
 them of other peoples and beliefs. They believe in one 
 Supreme God, who existed before the creation, who is 
 
 * Mr. Man's exposure of an ancient and perhaps not creditably 
 maintained tradition in regard to this poor people did not, as might 
 be expected, escape the censure of his opponents. His article (in 
 Journal of Anthrop. Inst., 1882-3) was criticised in " Folk-Lore," 
 September, 1909, by Mr. A. R. Brown with much vehemence ; and 
 the controversy that followed between Mr. Brown on the one side, 
 and Schmidt and Lang on the other, in the pages of " Man " (1910) 
 is of great interest. Mr. Brown's arguments are not only fully met, 
 but shown to confirm Mr. Man's views in an able work by P. W. 
 Schmidt — " Die Stellung der Pygmaenvolker in der Entwicklungsge- 
 schichte des Menschen," p. 203 and foil. 
 
 t P. W. Schmidt, op. cit., p. 192 and foil. 
 
 X Even, therefore, if any doubt remained about the Andamanese 
 religion, it would be removed by the connection of these with the 
 other Pygmy peoples. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 39 
 
 the judge of souls and the master of hfe and death. Scarcely 
 a trace of animism or ancestor-worship is found here, nor 
 any other corrupting or degenerate influepce, with the 
 exception of some magic. Their monotheism is practically 
 pure and unspoiled, those other lower elements which are 
 to be found even amongst the less primitive peoples of 
 the same land,* being practically unknown. It is difficult 
 to see how the Andamanese can be now regarded as a test 
 case for the theory of godless primitive races. 
 
 {d) THE MAORIS 
 
 We wish to close this list of instances, which could be 
 multiplied many times, by reference to the Maori people. 
 " Many writers," says Mr. Elsdon Best,j- " have touched 
 on the theme of the Maori religion, and almost all such 
 writers have remarked that the gods of the Maori were 
 truly malevolent beings, beings to be feared and placated, 
 to whom no true invocations were recited, but merely 
 crude charms or incantations. Also that the Maori had 
 no conception of a Supreme Being, creative or otherwise. . . 
 It is now many years since we first gained a dim knowledge 
 that the Maori believed in the existence of a Supreme 
 Being. . . . Since that time we have obtained more 
 light. . . . The information so gained, we now ofter . . . 
 as evidence that an ' inferior ' race, a ' savage ' people 
 was quite capable of evolving the concept of a Supreme 
 Being, a creative and eternal God." In the course of his 
 article this interesting writer makes reference to^the Maori 
 custom of concealing the fuU significance of the tribal 
 reUgion from all but the initiated. In fact only the higher 
 priesthood was allowed to invoke God's name. No image 
 of God was ever fashioned ; no offerings were made to 
 Him. Nevertheless all acknowledged the " Great," the 
 eternal, permanent, unchangeable cause of all things, 
 from Whom all life emanated, and Who, though Himself 
 supremely just and good, yet refrains, this people main- 
 tains, from inflicting punishment on the unjust and bad. 
 
 The foregoing cases will serve to show how, gradually. 
 Lord Avebury's theory is being disproved by facts, how each 
 
 * See later p. 45. Also Le Roy, op. cit., pp. 274 and 275. 
 
 f " Maori Religion : The Cult of lo, the Concept of a Supreme 
 Deity as evolved by the ancestors of the Polynesians." Man. July, 
 1913- 
 
40 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 year the veils are being drawn aside, and revealing behind 
 the often gruesome ritual of savage fetishism, ancestor- 
 worship and incantation, a background of genuine religious 
 feeling and belief. 
 
 II. — Two Erroneous Theories on the Origin of 
 Religion 
 
 ANIMISM 
 
 This theory is usually connected with the name of Ed. B. 
 Tylor, and is described in his weU-known work on Primitive 
 Culture. A briefer though more thorough-going account of 
 it is given in Spencer's work, the " Principles of Sociology."* 
 
 The following is a brief sketch of the theory as developed 
 by Spencer : — 
 
 " Changes in the sky and on the earth occurring hourly, 
 daily, and at shorter or longer intervals, go on in ways 
 about which the savage knows nothing — unexpected 
 appearances and disappearances, transmutations, meta- 
 morphoses. While seeming to show that arbitrariness 
 characterises all actions, these foster the notion of a 
 duality in the things which become visible and vanish, 
 or which transform themselves : and this notion is con- 
 firmed by experiences of shadows, reflections, and echoes." 
 There must, the savage thinks, be more than one object 
 present__ under each of these single appearances. The 
 experience of dreams confirms this suggestion. To the 
 primitive man dreams appear real. The savage did the 
 actions, saw the places, carried on the conversation dreamt 
 of. Hence there must be in him a double which goes 
 abroad during sleep and returns again at waking. When 
 people die the savage mind considers that the second self 
 has merely gone away. It wiU come back again, and its 
 
 * " Principles of Sociology," Vol. I. Herbert Spencer's theory is 
 sometimes spoken of as the " ghost theory " of the origin of religion. 
 But it differs in no essential from the animistic hypothesis of Ed. B. 
 Tylor, except that in Spencer's theory the element of ancestor worship 
 is most emphasised. We are prevented by limitations of space from 
 treating of the supposed place of magic and the " worship " of tha 
 totem in the development of religion. For these see Durkheim — " Les 
 Formes fil6m. de la Vie Rel." Livre II. The account of animism 
 given above will serve to show the absurd length of rein which 
 sociologists are accustomed to allow to their imaginations in theorising 
 on the origin of religion. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 41 
 
 return to the body will be what is now spoken of as the 
 resurrection Of the body. Thus each thing comes to appear 
 to have a second self, which, when first its esSstence comes 
 to be suspected, is thought of as like unto the visible self, 
 and to have the same needs and propensities. The second 
 self of the dead man hunts, eats, and drinks in some land 
 beyond our .own. These doubles of dead men swarm 
 everywhere. " They are workers of remarkable occurrences 
 in the surrounding world." Men are at the mercy of these 
 ghosts. Primitive man tries first to defend himself against 
 them by the aid of the exorcist and the sorcerer, i.e. 
 " antagonistically " ; later, losing faith in the efficacy of 
 opposition, he has recourse to propitiation and petition.* 
 The souls of ancestors are not only feared but revered. 
 Some of the rites performed over the dead denote awe, 
 fear and reverence only, some propitiation and petition. 
 " Out of this motive and these observances come all forms 
 of worship." " Every holy rite is derived from a funereal 
 rite." " Remote ancestral ghosts ' come to be ' regarded 
 as creators and deities." " From the worship of the dead 
 every other kind of worship has arisen." 
 
 Criticism. 
 
 Our criticism of this theory which must be of the briefest 
 kind is as follows : — 
 
 («) This theory does not now carry much weight amongst 
 anthropologists. As R. R. Marett f says — " the impression 
 left on my mind by a study of the leading theorists is that 
 animistic interpretations have been by them decidedly 
 overdone." 
 
 (h) This theory of animism supposes that the savage 
 regards all nature as living, each thing being inhabited by 
 spirits. Now the savage may indeed regard some parts of 
 nature as the homes of spirits just as civilised men do, but 
 the supposition that in his mind every tree and every stone J 
 
 * This change of attitude from exorcist antagonism to petition 
 is also found in Sir J. G. Frazer's theory of the origin of religion as 
 expounded in his now familiar work, " The Golden Bough," p. 77. 
 
 f " The Threshold of Religion." 
 
 j For a statement of the theory that stone-worship was once 
 prevalent amongst all savage races see Hobhouse, " Morals in Evolu- 
 tion," II. p. 5. He explains that stones were at first, through some 
 kind of paradoxical development, worshipped in themselves as in- 
 animate : later they were regarded and worshipped as the dwelling- 
 place of spirits. 
 
42 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 has its attendant spirit is absurd. Even the structure of 
 the language of some of those races that are supposed to 
 suffer from this delusion completely disproves such a supposi- 
 tion. Let us take the instance of the Bantu languages 
 (African). The Bantu languages arrange all their nouns 
 under specific categories, some of male, some of female ; some 
 of animate, some of inanimate things, showing conclusively 
 that in the eyes of this people the whole world is not animated.* 
 It is not always easy to get at the mentaHty of savages, but 
 all experience goes to show that their views about the world 
 around them are, like those of civihsed men, strange mixtures 
 of truth and falsehood. They are never whoUy absurd. 
 
 (c) The mere belief that behind the trees and stones and 
 mountains there are attendant spirits stronger than us and 
 having power over us could not give rise to religion j any 
 more than the fear of other men stronger than oneself could 
 give rise to religion. All investigation goes to show that 
 all reHgion is based on the conception of One who created 
 all things, on whom all things depend for their continued 
 existence, to whom, therefore, we are indebted. One also 
 who will punish the wicked and reward the good. This 
 idea of complete dependence in the sense that we are indebted 
 to God for what we are and have is the essential element 
 in all religion. The mere thought of spirits behind the 
 phenomena of the world could not, therefore, suffice to 
 explain the genesis of religion. Granted, however, the idea 
 of a Creator then the idea of other spirits co-operating with 
 God in the government of the world might easily arise in the 
 savage as well as in the civilised mind. " If man," writes 
 Jastrow,J "was without religion before the animistic 
 hypothesis presented itself to his mind animism would not 
 of itself have led to the rise of religion." 
 
 [d] Behef in the existence of souls surviving after the 
 death of the body which is the essential feature of animism 
 is in the case of every race of men inseparably bound up with 
 
 • See on this point Le Roy, " La Religion des Primitifs," p. 78; 
 Also article on ' Bantu Languages," in Ency. Brit. 
 
 f If fear and awe of personal spirits behind phenomena could not 
 give rise to religion neither could awe of a mere force that ' leaves 
 in solution the distinction of personal and impersonal " become the 
 basis of religion. To such a force Mr. Marett gives the name of Mana, 
 awe of which he tells us forms the first step in the development of 
 religion. It precedes, he maintains, the animistic period. See 
 " Threshold of Religion," p. 119. Also for criticism of the theory see 
 " Dramas and Dramatic Dances," by W. Ridgeway. 
 
 I " The Study of Religion," p. 183. 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 43 
 
 and dependent on belief in the existence of God. No atheist, 
 except those of a purely academic sort, believes in immortality. 
 The savage's belief in souls and spirits presupposes a belief 
 in God, and, therefore, presupposes some sort of religious 
 worship. 
 
 (e) It is absurd to regard the savage as believing that 
 when he kills his enemy in sleep his second soul has been 
 out of his body, and committed murder. A day's experience 
 would suffice to demonstrate even to the savage mind the 
 unreality of dreams. 
 
 (/) Finally, animism is almost whoUy unknown amongst 
 some of the oldest and most primitive races who yet are 
 deeply rehgious, for instance, the Pygmy races which are 
 amongst the oldest and most primitive on the earth. 
 
 NATURE-WORSHIP 
 
 other writers maintain that religion began in the awe and 
 wonder aroused in the savage mind by such impressive 
 phenomena as lightning the rising and setting sun, the 
 great forests and mountains. 
 
 Nearly all, however, that has been said in criticism of 
 animism applies to the present hypothesis also. The essential 
 characteristic of all reUgions is that of total dependence on 
 some one above us. Such phenomena as are here described 
 have nothing in common with this inseparable attribute of 
 religion. 
 
 III. — ^Monotheism — the Earliest Stage in the History 
 OF Religion 
 
 Only the very briefest reference can here be made to the 
 important question,* which form of religion is the oldest, 
 that of monotheism or polytheism and the rest. 
 
 Until a few years ago most anthropologists were fully 
 prepared in accordance with their theory of evolution to 
 accept the view that the history of religion represents a 
 slowly ascending series of stages from nature-worship through 
 
 * We are here abstracting from the information afforded by revela- 
 tion, and relying on natural scientific investigation only, Ethics being 
 a purely natural science. We cannot, therefore, be expected to 
 consider in a work like the present the arguments for a primitive 
 revelation or the theories of Wellhausen and the Assyriologists opposed 
 to such revelation. For these the reader should consult " La Rlv61a- 
 tion Primitive," by R. P. G. Schmidt. 
 
44 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 animism,, fetishism, and polytheism, up to monotheism. 
 An opposite theory is now very widely accepted by anthro- 
 pologists (even those who are very little influenced by 
 religious dogma) to the effect that in the rehgions of savages 
 there are many indications which go to prove that the 
 primitive religion was one of pure monotheism, that the 
 other forms mentioned represent stages of retrogression and 
 decadence rather than of development, and that their 
 appearance belongs to a comparatively late period in the 
 history of the savage races. 
 Thus to quote only one or two of the arguments offered :— * 
 
 (i) If monotheism were a development out of the rest 
 then it should be the most prominent element in the religion 
 of those peoples where the monotheistic element and the 
 others are mingled together. The opposite, however, is 
 the case. Amongst some savage races fetishism and the 
 rest constitute the most vigorous part of the racial worship, 
 whilst the monotheistic element has every sign of decay 
 upon it, and lies buried under the debris of ages so that only 
 the most patient investigation on the part of scientists has 
 succeeded in bringing it to light. And this argument is 
 found to be all the more convincing when it is remembered 
 that the older the primitive race and the less affected by 
 advance in civilisation the more pronounced is the belief 
 in one God, and the fewer and less distinct the traces of 
 animism and polytheism. This will be shown in the third 
 argument to follow. 
 
 (2) We know that amongst primitive peoples it is a very 
 common occurrence for one god to come to be gradually 
 represented as many, either through being known by different 
 names, or through the various powers of a god being 
 personified, each, therefore, becoming a god, or for some 
 other reason. The opposite also occurs, i.e. the phenomenon 
 of syncretism ; but it is rare amongst the savage races. Mr. 
 Howitt has given instances of the multiplication of deities 
 amongst the S. E. Australians, Dr. Hahn f amongst the 
 Hottentots, and de Broglie J amongst the more developed 
 
 * Useful expositions of the view here defended are to be found in 
 Andrew Lang's and de Broglie's work>! mentioned in the notes to our 
 present discussion, in Chr. Pesch's " Gott und Gotter," in R. P. G. 
 Schmidt's work, " La R6v61ation Primitive," and in P. W. Schmidt's 
 able work on the Pygmy Races here frequently referred to. 
 
 t op cit. 
 
 X In his interesting work, " Problfemes et Conclusions de I'Histoire 
 des Religions." 
 
NATURAL RELIGION 45 
 
 peoples.* In these cases, therefore, polytheism and the 
 other forms mentioned would seem to have been preceded 
 by monotheism, not vice versa. * 
 
 (3) It is certain that monotheism is the religion of the 
 very oldest of the primitive races f — ^fetish worship, animism, 
 magic, polytheism, and the rest being characteristic rather 
 of the later tribes. In this connection an interesting study 
 in Comparative Religion is afforded by the tribes of the 
 Malay Peninsula. Here there are three primitive Pagan 
 tribes — the Semang pygmies, the Sakai, and the Jakun. 
 The first is the most primitive and isolated. Nomads of 
 the forest, Uving by the chase, innocent of aU kinds of regular 
 business, they are quite unprogressive, and still retain all 
 the characteristics and cherish the traditions that have come 
 down to them from their ancestors in ages past. Their 
 rehgion is one of pure monotheism. The Sakai are the next 
 " higher " grade. They have mingled to a slight degree 
 with the neighbouring peoples. Their religion is mono- 
 theistic, with, however, a notable mixture of the other 
 forms. The " highest " level is that of the half-civilised 
 Jakun. Here the monotheistic element is faint and in- 
 operative as compared with the elements of animism, ancestor 
 worship, and magic. J 
 
 From this it is clear that the nearer one gets to the primitive 
 stock the purer the monotheism, from which it foUows that 
 aU the rest are accretions belonging to a later period. 
 
 Our conclusion is that fetishism, animism, polytheism did 
 not precede the appearance of monotheism ; on the contrary, 
 
 * Mere " syncretism " could not explain the worship of one supreme 
 God, Lord of all things, which is the worship practised by all the oldest 
 of the primitive races, e.g. the Andamanese and the Semang Pygmies. 
 If two tribes worshipping distinct " local " gods unite, these " local " 
 gods may coalesce and become the god of the joint territory and 
 community. But this god would still be " local," not the God of 
 all things. The conception of God as supreme over all things can 
 only rest on reasoning of one or other of the kinds we have described, 
 p. 6. 
 
 f The argument is fully given in P. W. Schmidt's work already 
 quoted, and Skeat's " Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula." 
 
 J In' addition to the arguments given in the text others mi,ght 
 also be quoted showing that the savage religions manifest evidences 
 of having been derived from the teachings of Genesis, R. P. G, 
 Schmidt points out that the sacrifice of the first fruits is essential in 
 many of the most primitive religions such as that of the Andamanese, 
 Also the social organisation and monogyny of the very earliest races 
 like the Pygmies, and the S, E. Australians point to Genesis, See 
 the argument in " La R^vfilation Primitive et les Donn^es Actuelles de 
 la Science," pp, 214-236. 
 
46 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 that it preceded them ; that in general these cruder religions 
 represent a retrogression ; that in fact they are nothing 
 more than so many degraded conceptions such as could 
 hardly fail to appear at some time during the course of ages 
 as accompaniments to a true natural rehgion in minds and 
 lives so distorted and strange as those of the savage races.* 
 
 * Various theories have been devised to show how monotheism 
 might develop out of polytheism. For instance, it is explained by 
 Hobhouse {op. cit. II. 119) that one god might be exalted as king 
 over the rest, or all the gods might gradually come to be identified 
 with one, or all might come to be regarded as manifestations of some 
 one force underlying all things, or from the worship of one national 
 god the people might come to acknowledge one God absolutely. It 
 IS in this latter way that the Hebrews are said by some to have re- 
 Imquished " monolatry " or the worship of the national god, Yahveb, 
 for monotheism or the acknowledgment and worship of one God (for 
 a criticism of other theories on the origin of Hebrew monotheism see 
 R. P G. Schmidt's " La Revelation Primitive," etc., ch. 3) 
 
 But how unnatural and improbable are all these mental processes 
 in comparison with that simple and natural act of reasoning which 
 would place primitive man in possession of monotheism from the 
 beginning and which consists in no other postulate than that the 
 world must have a cause ! The mind of primitive man would not 
 necessarily and naturally be led to accept the suggestion that the gods 
 have a king, or that their national or tribal god was the only god, or 
 that all gods are manifestations of a single force underlying all things. 
 But the mind of primitive man as well as the mind of developed but 
 uncritical men would naturally and necessarily accept the proposition, 
 particularly if suggested to it, that the world must have a cause. 
 As we said before, a Hume or a Kant might raise difhculties about the 
 notion of cause, but such difficulties would not suggest themselves 
 to primitive man. Nor should it be thought that so abstract and 
 profouild a conception as that of an ultimate cause would present 
 difficulties to the savage mind. It is just these abstract and ultimate 
 conceptions that are most easily understood and accepted by the 
 plain mind. The axioms of Euclid are more easily understood than 
 the " propositions." The concept of an ultimate cause moving the 
 world is more easily grasped than the concept of the intermediate 
 causes. These latter represent highly complex things which only 
 an educated man can understand. Our contention, therefore, is that 
 in the absence of proof to the contrary when a primitive race is found 
 to possess a monotheistic religion we should presume that this belief 
 is due to some of those very simple processes of reasoning which we 
 have enumerated in the course of the present chapter, and which could 
 hardly fail to suggest themselves in some way to the primitive races. 
 But this assumption is shown to be fully in accordance with fact 
 from what the investigations of scientific men have now succeeded 
 in disclosing, viz. that it is the later primitive races only that exhibit 
 traces of animism, fetishism, and polytheism, whilst the oldest primitive 
 races are monothestic. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A MAN'S DUTIES CONCERNING HIMSELF, AND 
 SOME OF HIS DUTIES TOWARDS OTHERS 
 
 In a sense, all a man's duties concern himself or are 
 duties towards himself, for they all concern some good 
 object or end, the attainment of which constitutes a 
 perfection, in some sense, of one's self. Most duties, 
 however, concern the self only indirectly. Directly 
 they are duties to attain some object quite distinct from 
 the perfecting of one's self, e.g. our duty to help the 
 poor, to avoid stealing, murder, etc. But some duties 
 are such that the immediate object which they concern 
 is one's own self ; * their immediate and direct aim is to 
 
 * The obvious objection will occur to the reader — how can a 
 man have duties towards himself ? Why may not each of us do 
 what he likes with himself ? He who owns a book can treat it in 
 what way he likes ; why not treat himself in what way he likes ? 
 The assumption, it will be added, that each one owns himself is here 
 quite legitimate, for nature has given each man into his own control ; 
 he directs himself in all his actions ; and what does ownership mean 
 except that a man controls the thing which is possessed, and that he 
 can exclude others from its control ? Man owns himself, therefore, 
 and can do what he likes with himself, and, therefore, has no duties in 
 regard to himself. 
 
 Reply (a) It is not true that man controls himself to the extent 
 that is supposed in this objection and that is commonly assumed. 
 We do not bring ourselves into existence, nor maintain ourselves in 
 existence, and there are thousands of functions, physical and mental, 
 over which we have no control. (6) Man, unlike ordinary property, is 
 a person, with dignity and rights, and he should be treated with all 
 the respect that personality has a right to, no matter into whose 
 hands he is entrusted, whether his own or those of other people, 
 (c) Man has a duty to seek his own perfection, which duty is based on 
 the presence in man of a natural appetite for his own good (See Vol. I. 
 p. 90, and present Vol. p. 52). Man has no such natural appetite 
 towards the preservation of his property. He cannot, therefore, 
 treat himself in the way in which he treats other things. We should 
 explain, however, that a man's duties towards himself are never 
 duties of justice, but of charity only. Justice is essentially a virtue 
 ad alterum. 
 
 47 
 
48 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 perfect one's self, e.g. the duty to improve one's intellect, 
 to strengthen one's character, to sustain life and health. 
 This is the class of duty with which we are here con- 
 cerned, duties the direct object of which is a man's 
 own self. 
 
 OUR PRINCIPAL DUTIES TOWARDS OURSELVES ENUMERATED 
 
 Our duties towards ourselves may all be summed up 
 in the one formula, viz. we are bound to seek our own 
 perfection — our own good. Now our good is to be 
 found (i) partly in ourselves, e.g. increase of knowledge, 
 the maintenance of health ; (2) partly in the possession 
 of objects outside ourselves, e.g. friends, money, a good 
 reputation. We may be allowed to refer briefly to each 
 of these. 
 
 (i) A man is bound to seek his own personal per- 
 fection by the proper exercise of his own capacities. 
 Now we can perfect ourselves in a hundred different 
 ways and along a hundred different lines. But it would 
 be absurd to say that a man should perfect himself or 
 develop along all the lines that it is open to him to 
 pursue.' All men possess in some degree capacities for 
 studying mathematics, history, music, poetry, painting, 
 law, philosophy, theology, the military art, etc. Not 
 one of these branches is completely closed, by nature 
 at all events, to any individual. But no man could 
 perfect himself along all these lines together, and to 
 attempt to do so would mar our chance of perfection or 
 even of progress along any one. It is absurd, therefore, 
 to insist that men should seek the exercise of all the 
 capacities that they possess. To do so is not only not 
 a law, it is not even in accordance with the economy 
 of nature. The fact is that nature has supplied all men 
 in varying degrees with all the capacities that belong 
 to human nature, but she has left each one to determine, 
 in accordance with his circumstances and the require- 
 ments of society, in what particular branch he will 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 40 
 
 develop and perfect himself, or (which is the same thing) 
 what class of human interest he will choose to proinote. 
 Some study mathematics, others history:* s5me become 
 medical men, others lawyers, others soldiers, others 
 artists ; some undertake the duties of family life, others 
 remain single for the purpose of pursuing some work or 
 furthering some interest which requires personal freedom 
 — the soldier that he may fight battles for his country, 
 the philanthropist that he may alleviate some of the 
 world's sufferings, the missionary in order to belong to 
 the people over whom he is set, to be at their beck and 
 call, and to carry on the work of God untrammelled by 
 any human ties. These and a thousand other lines of 
 pursuit, as wide-extending as the sum of the world's 
 work. and interests, are the alternatives which nature 
 so generously opens out before us. In giving to each 
 the full number of capacities, she has, to a great extent, 
 placed the choice of our vocation in our own hands. 
 But she requires that some one choice be made, that 
 at least one line of human perfection be followed. 
 
 But there are some things that are a duty for each 
 and all, that are required for the proper ordering of 
 life in every department. Some of these are (a) goods 
 of the soul, like knowledge and virtue ; some (b) goods 
 of the body, {a) A man is bound to acquire some 
 knowledge of the law of God, without which his whole 
 life will be imperilled and misdirected. All, too, are 
 obliged to acquire such knowledge as is necessary for 
 the proper performance of the duties that attach to 
 their state in life. Every man also is bound to seek 
 to strengthen and adorn his will with the necessary 
 moral virtues, particularly the virtue of temperance 
 for the control of passion, without which, virtue and 
 harmony are impossible in our lives. (6) Every man is 
 under a strict obhgation to preserve his health un- 
 impaired. He may indeed fast and abstain, out of 
 certain higher motives, but nothing would justify him 
 in injuring his health by such practices. Then there is 
 
50 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a negative duty not to injure ourselves in any way, and 
 in particular not to destroy our own lives. Of this very 
 grave duty, however, we shall speak at some length 
 presently.* These are all duties that concern internal 
 goods. 
 
 (2) We are bound also to perfect ourselves by the 
 possession of certain external goods. Every man is 
 bound, without, of course, undue anxiety, to provide a 
 sufficiency of goods for his own maintenance and the 
 maintenance of those committed to his care. The 
 degree and kind of maintenance will depend on circum- 
 stances of a person's state in life. One's calling may, 
 indeed, be such as to induce him, with a fine courage 
 and trust, to throw all his reliance on God or on man- 
 kind, and to go boldly forth to do some work of great 
 moment, without any guarantee as to the future main- 
 tenance of himself or others. Great saints, philanthrop- 
 ists, and scientists have done so. But in ordinary 
 circumstances a man is bound to rely on himself, and to 
 take no unnecessary risks, but to provide as far as 
 possible for the due performance of his obligations in 
 life by securing himself against want. 
 
 Men should also have a genuine care for the good 
 opinion of others. Against this precept it is possible 
 to err in three principal ways — (a) making no account 
 of the opinion of others. The esteem of other men is 
 to be- reckoned a genuine good, of value in and for itself. 
 As such, it is an ornament and a possession which one 
 cannot afford to dispense with. It is also good as a 
 means, first, as an aid to the proper accomplishment of 
 duty, for it is easier to work in a friendly environment 
 than in one that is hostile ; and secondly as a true 
 norm of excellence — there being few better tests of a 
 man's good character and life than the esteem of those 
 who are in a position to know and understand him. 
 (6) We err also by aiming at too much praise, for this 
 is to over-estimate the element of genuine good that is 
 
 *P-52 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 51 
 
 in human esteem. There is a hmit to the value of 
 human esteem just as there is a limit to the,value of 
 money ; and just as it would be wrong to desire all the 
 money in the world or even superabundant riches, so 
 it is absurd to seek for the esteem of all men, unless 
 indeed our position in society renders the universal 
 esteem of real value to us. (c) We do wrong also in 
 setting a higher value on public esteem than on our 
 own independence, surrendering our own judgment in 
 order to be praised by others. A man is worth more to 
 himself than the esteem of all the world can be to him. 
 
 But besides valuing the esteem of others, a man 
 should also set a high value on the possession of friends. 
 A true friend is amongst the greatest of human blessings. 
 It would be wrong to despise the friendship of others, 
 just as it would be wrong to overestimate its value by 
 subjecting ourselves completely to others or by seeking 
 to have too many friends. " A few friends for pleasure's 
 sake like sweetening in your food," and " Have neither 
 many friends nor none," are tried and sensible maxims. 
 
 Again, men stand in need of amusement and should 
 not be insensible to pleasure, just as one should not 
 overestimate the value of pleasure. Not all pleasures 
 or amusements suit all callings, but there is no calling 
 that cannot be suited by some amusements. Amuse- 
 ments, rationally indulged in, are a true human good 
 both in themselves and as means to the bettering of 
 mind and body. 
 
 Of the various duties of a man concerning himself 
 two of the most prominent and important are those of 
 self-maintenance and of temperance. The former gives 
 rise to the problem whether suicide is lawful, the latter 
 to the question of the nature and the law of temperance. 
 We shall devote the remainder of our discussion on a 
 man's duties to himself to the consideration of these 
 two problems — of suicide and of temperance. 
 
52 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 OF SUICIDE 
 
 By suicide is meant the direct compassing of one's 
 own death. Directly compassing death means the 
 desiring of death in itself, and the voluntary taking of 
 effective means to its accomplishment. Suicide must 
 be most carefully distinguished from another class of 
 action which will be considered at the close of our present 
 discussion, viz. the indirect compassing of one's own 
 death through the pursuit of something which happens 
 to result, against or independently of our will, in death ; 
 as when a soldier dies in battle, or a patient as the result 
 of an operation. In suicide a man aims at death. It 
 is accomplished in two ways, positively, as, for instance, 
 by taking poison or stabbing one's self: negatively, as 
 by voluntary self-imposed starvation undertaken in order 
 to die. In their moral character there is no difference 
 either in kind or degree between negative and positive 
 suicide. In both there is a positive aiming at death. 
 The difference is only in the means chosen. 
 
 We shall first proceed to prove that suicide is radically 
 opposed to the nature of the person who attempts it, so 
 opposed that under no circumstances whatsoever could 
 it be justified. Secondly, we shall show that it is an 
 injustice to society ; thirdly, that it is an insult to God. 
 
 (i) The first and most obvious element of evil in 
 suicide is that it is a violation of the natural * law in 
 as much as it violates the nature of the individual who 
 commits it. We saw, when treating of the moral 
 criteria,! that the powers of man are directed by nature 
 to the attainment of some object or end, and, through 
 the attainment of such object or end, to the development 
 and fuller being of the individual to whom these powers 
 belong. This principle holds true of every kind of 
 power — intellectual, sensuous, and vegetative. The will 
 from its very nature aims at happiness in the attainment 
 
 * And, therefore, oi the eternal law of God in which the natural 
 law is grounded. 
 
 t Vol. I. p. 90. See ■ S. Theol.' II., II. Q. LXIV. Art. 5. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 53 
 
 of some end, and, therefore, also at the well-being and 
 development of the individual. The sensuous appetites, 
 like that for food, aim at the fuller life and development 
 of man on his sensuous side. Such vegetative tendencies 
 or appetites as growth and the digestive movements are 
 directed to the well-being or betterment of the substance 
 of the body. It is impossible that any appetite set up in 
 us by nature should be directed to any other thing than the 
 fuller being of the individual. It is impossible that it 
 should aim at nothingness or at destruction. A time 
 comes no doubt when the body begins to fall into decay. 
 But this decay is due not to the fact that our natural 
 powers are aiming at decay, but to the fact that they 
 can no longer function, that their working is interfered 
 with, that their objects cannot be attained. The result 
 of this failure to function properly is decay. No natural 
 faculty is directed by nature to its own annihilation, or 
 to that of the constitution to which it belongs. " The 
 tendency," writes M. Guyau, " to persevere in life is 
 the necessary law of life, not of human life only, but of 
 all life." * This natural and necessary tendency of 
 living forces to their own further and completer existence 
 is an admitted fact of science and of philosophy. 
 
 Now in suicide a man makes voluntary use of his own 
 powers, and by his act those powers are directed to 
 attain an object the very contrary of that which, by 
 their own nature, they are directed to attain — they are 
 used, viz. not for the welfare but for the destruction of 
 the agent. There could be no more direct or unequivocal 
 violation of nature than this. To use a power and to 
 use it for the accomplishment of what is most directly 
 opposed to its own natural end is the most complete per- 
 version that is possible of nature's purposes and aims. 
 Suicide, therefore, is a violation of nature, of the natural 
 law, and, through the natural law, of the eternal law of 
 God also, on which the natural law is ultimately 
 grounded. 
 
 * See Vol. I. of this work, p. 90, 
 
54 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Some Difficulties 
 
 The principle to which we have made appeal in proving 
 the unnatural character of suicide suggests the following 
 difficulty : it is quite true that vegetative and sensuous 
 powers tend necessarily to the maintenance and develop- 
 ment of the agent. For this reason an animal could neither 
 desire death and extinction, nor attempt to take its own 
 life. But an intellectual being is capable of desiring death, 
 and hence it cannot be true that the intellectual appetite 
 of will is fixed by nature on the maintenance and develop- 
 ment of the individual. In the very act of suicide itself, 
 for instance, the agent does not desire his own maintenance 
 or well-being. 
 
 Reply.— This difficulty only helps to bring out in a clearer 
 light the universality of the law that all hfe (indeed all being), 
 of whatever kind, tends naturally and necessarily to preserve 
 itself in being. For, even when a man wishes for death, that 
 act of willing is based upon a still more fundamental move- 
 ment of will, a movement which is never absent from any 
 act of willing, and on which every human act is grounded, 
 viz. the natural and inseparable tendency of the will to 
 good, to well-being, to happiness, to satisfaction of some 
 kind. Whether we desire to pass an examination, or to 
 take a holiday, or to read a book — ^in every act the agent 
 simply brings to bear upon some concrete end or object 
 the desire of the will for happiness or the " good." Some- 
 times the object in which we seek to realise that desire is 
 a real " good," sometimes it is an apparent " good." But 
 in every act we seek to realise this most fundamental of all 
 desires, that, viz. for happiness. In suicide also we aim at 
 happiness or satisfaction, either some positive gratification, 
 like that of disappointing or hurting others, or the negative 
 good of escaping from unhappiness. Our will, therefore, 
 aims always at the well-being of the self, and that aim is 
 maintained even in our attempt at self-annihilation. 
 " Through very love of self," says a writer of note,* " him- 
 self he slew." It is this deepest and most fundamental 
 of all desires, this setting which the will has received from 
 nature and of which it can never be deprived, that is opposed 
 and violated, as well as cheated of its natural object, in 
 suicide. 
 
 A second difficulty is the following : is it correct to say 
 that in suicide the person desires to compass his own destruc- 
 
 * G, Meredith, " The Egoist," p. ^. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 55 
 
 tion or annihilation ? At death the soul does not disappear. 
 It is a dogma of faith that the body will rise again. Does it 
 not seem, therefore, that what is desired and accomplished 
 in suicide is not annihilation, but a new life, more perfect 
 than the jiresent, and, if so, how can it be said that suicide 
 is a violation of our natural appetite for continued existence 
 and well-being ? 
 
 Reply. — Natural tendencies are all tendencies to the 
 well-being of the natural agent, the agent regarded as a 
 product of nature. Nature could not set up in any thing a 
 tendency towards a condition which is either unnatural or 
 which is even above nature. But the natural constitution of 
 man, from which springs all our natural powers and appetites, 
 is that of a composite of body and soul combined to form one 
 person. And, therefore, our natural desire for happiness is a 
 desire for the happiness and well-being of the natural -person, 
 consisting of body and soul. In suicide, therefore, we use 
 our natural powers for an end which is the frustration of 
 their own natural purpose. 
 
 A third difficulty, the last support and argument of those 
 who contemplate freeing themselves from life's burdens, may 
 be briefly put thus : better even annihilation than a life full 
 of pain and sorrow. Why, therefore, not choose the better 
 and leave the worse ? 
 
 Reply. — Cold jreason answers — ^there is nothing in this life, 
 no matter how unwelcome to us, that is not better than 
 annihilation. For annihilation is nothing, and in nothing 
 there is no perfection and no " good." And if this reply, 
 though it really strikes at the root of the present difficulty, 
 is regarded as too abstract to afford comfort in bearing the 
 trials of life, we answer that it is not meant to give comfort, 
 but only to represent the true facts of the case. But there 
 are other considerations also that can supply all the comfort 
 and sustaining power that are required. In every life, no 
 matter how unhappy, there is much good. The evil of each 
 one's life is but one of its many elements, and it is outweighed 
 many times by the good. It is the very essence of sorrow, 
 however, that it turns our attention away from the good and 
 fixes it upon the evil, and thus we find it hard to reahse 
 that in an unhappy life there is any real good or happiness. 
 Again even our natural reason tells us that evil can be turned 
 to good, if not here, at least elsewhere,* if not in this world, 
 
 * See Vol, I. p. 86. 
 
56 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 then in the next. There are many seasons and many climes 
 in nature, and the good of present losses does not always 
 appear at once or where we will. Finally, even if we have 
 no trust in nature itself, still the Author of nature remains, 
 and, as ruler of the universe, He must bring things to a good 
 end. We must be patient and wait for His reward. Better 
 anything than to offend Him by throwing His gift, the gift 
 of life, in His face, and rushing into His presence unsum- 
 moned. Suicide is the worst of all solutions for pain and 
 sorrow. 
 
 (2) Our second argument for the wrongfulness of 
 suicide is the following : Suicide is a violation of justice 
 as between the individual and society. The individual 
 is naturally destined for society,* and, therefore, he is 
 naturally a part or member of society and belongs to 
 society as the part of any organism belongs to the whole. 
 To cut ourselves off from existence is to deprive society 
 of that which belongs to it by the same kind of title by 
 which the limb belongs to the body of which nature 
 makes it a part. 
 
 (3) Suicide is an insult to the Creatoi:. The Author 
 of nature has given us all that we are and have. It is 
 for Him who gave us our life to take it from us when 
 He wills, not ours to throw His gift in His face. He 
 has set us in this world in order to work out our per- 
 fection here. It is for us to remain at our appointed 
 posts until we are recalled. 
 
 The Indirect compassing of one's own death. 
 
 Indirectly a man causes his own death, when without 
 aiming at death he does that which results in death, f 
 
 * See Vol I., pp. 107, io8; Vol. II., pp. 463, 471. 
 
 f So as not to complicate the problem here, we take it for granted 
 that death is foreseen as certain in each case. Usually adjoined to 
 the above conditions is the provision that the more remote the pro- 
 bability that the evil effect will occur, the less the degree of goodness 
 or utility in the other effect that is required to justify our act. Where 
 there is extremely little danger of death any small good will suffice to 
 justify our act. Where death is almost certain, as when a man jumps 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 57 
 
 It can occur in two ways, -positively, as when one rushes 
 into battle ; negatively, as when a man refuses to eat 
 so that another may take the only food available and 
 thereby be enabled to live. 
 
 The question whether it is lawful for some good 
 purpose to do an act which we know will result in death 
 leads us back to a problem of great importance which 
 occupied us in the early part of this work, that, viz. 
 of the double effect. We saw * that where an act which 
 is in itself indifferent has two results, one good and one 
 bad, it is lawful to do this act in spite of the foreseen 
 evil consequences, provided that three conditions are 
 fulfilled (i) that the evil effect is not desired on its own 
 account ; for that would be directly to wish evil, which 
 is never lawful ; the evil must be permitted only, not 
 aimed at as an end ; (2) that the good effect does not 
 follow from the bad, since, if it did, the evil element 
 would be desired as means to the good ; it would be 
 desired, therefore, in itself (although not for itself), and 
 thus it would be desired directly, which is unlawful ; 
 (3) provided also that there is a sufficient reason for 
 permitting the bad effect, or, which is the same thing, 
 provided there is a sufficient proportion between the 
 good and the evil effect, the one in some way counter- 
 balancing the other. Now the problem which we are 
 at present considering is only a concrete instance of 
 this more general problem of the " double effect." Is 
 the indirect compassing of one's own death ever lawful ? 
 Is it lawful to do an act which, while accompanied by 
 some good consequence, such as fighting for one's country, 
 or feeding the hungry, involves also another evil conse- 
 quence, viz. one's own death ? From what precedes 
 
 from a high tower, only the greatest good or the avoiding of some 
 terrible evil would justify the act. A man may jump from a tower 
 (trusting to some accident to save his life) to avoid the rising flames. 
 But no cause will justify him in shooting himself through the brain. 
 Such an act is not indifferent. Of its nature it is fatal. It is the 
 direct procuring of one's own death. 
 * Vol. I. p. 39- 
 
58 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 it will be evident that such an act is sometimes lawful, 
 but only under the prescribed conditions. It is lawful 
 to do an act involving as a consequence my own death, 
 provided (i) that I do not aim at death ; (2) that the 
 good accomplished by my act is not itself the result of 
 my death. It would not, for instance, be lawful for me 
 to starve myself to death in order that some one in 
 whom I am interested might become heir to my pro- 
 perty, or in order that by my death I might escape some 
 great evil : (3) provided also that the good effect pro- 
 duced in some way counterbalances the ever grave evil 
 of death. I may go to battle, knowing that I shall die, 
 for the sake of my country's honour. If the surrendering 
 of all the food in my possession is necessary for another's 
 life, I may make the sacrifice without sin, one life, no 
 matter how poor or ignoble, being always sufficiently 
 the equivalent of another life. A captain may stick * 
 to his ship and not attempt to save himself as long as 
 there is even one passenger on board who might require 
 his assistance. Nay, even if none remained, he would 
 be justified in clinging to his post if any glimmer of 
 hope remains that in the end the vessel might be saved. 
 In both cases a great charge is being fulfilled. But if 
 all hope of saving the vessel has departed and no one 
 remains who might require assistance, a captain is bound 
 to try to save his life, not even the disgrace of his failure 
 sufficing to justify him in refusing to make use of such 
 means of safety as are at hand.f Men, too, may lawfully 
 stand aside and not rush for boat or belt whilst the lives 
 of women and children, or even of other men, are being 
 
 * sticking to the ship is an indifferent action in itself. Throwing 
 himself into the sea in order to be drowned is not indifEerent, but bad : 
 it is the direct compassing of one's own death, and could under no 
 circumstances be justified. But as we saw in a note (p. 57) merely 
 jumping into the sea with the hope of not being drowned may be 
 indifferent. 
 
 t For two reasons, first, there is no proportion between the saving 
 of his reputation and the loss of his life : and, secondly, he avoids 
 disgrace by dying. The good effect follows, therefore, as a result of 
 the bad (see p. 57). 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 50 
 
 saved. In all these cases the compensating considera- 
 tion is that of at least one human life saved for each 
 one which is surrendered. 
 
 Nor is the saving of another's life always necessary 
 as compensation for the loss of our own. Any great 
 and overwhelming good may suffice as compensation. 
 But in no case may a man seek his own death, no matter 
 what the good to be gained. Our right extends only 
 to the doing of that which is in itself good or indifferent 
 or to remaining inactive ; and our action or inaction must 
 be really necessary for the attainment of the " good " 
 end to which it is directed, the " good " which justifies 
 us in permitting ourselves to die. 
 
 OF TEMPERANCE 
 
 In the first part of the present work we explained in 
 a general way the nature of the virtue of temperance 
 and also its various parts, integral, subjective, and 
 potential. It will be necessary here to give a more 
 detailed account of this virtue and in particular to set 
 before the reader, with what fullness the scope of this 
 work allows, an analysis of the law or norm of temper- 
 ance. 
 
 Man is not a being of reason alone. He is a creature 
 of sense also, and out of his sense nature spring a number 
 of sense appetites, i.e. of permanent tendencies or 
 inclinations towards certain sense objects. They are of 
 two kinds — concupiscible appetites, or appetites for the 
 attainment of certain pleasurable ends, and irascible 
 appetites, or appetites urging one to the facing and 
 overcoming of difficulties.* Temperance has to do with 
 the first kind of appetite only. Its function is to restrain 
 man from the immoderate pursuit of pleasure. 
 
 * This latter appetite is very highly developed in some animals. 
 Dogs and cats will even set themselves to imagine opposition and 
 resistance on the part of some object in order to experience the pleasure 
 of capturing it in spite of resistance, 
 
6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Now the concupiscible appetites natural to man are 
 very varied. They vary in their objects (and, therefore, 
 in degree of importance), in their strength and intensity, 
 and in the persistence with which they urge one to the 
 attainment of their ends. Most important of all, how- 
 ever, and also, in the design of nature, most difficult of 
 resistance and most persistent in their exercise, are those 
 appetites that concern the maintenance of life. They 
 are two — the appetite for food and drink, by which the 
 life of the individual is conserved, and the appetite of 
 sex subserving the propagation and maintenance of the 
 species. The controlling and directing of these two 
 appetites forms the central and essential function of 
 the virtue of temperance. Other less important and 
 less intense passions or appetites are controlled and 
 directed by the lesser virtues which we speak of as the 
 allied or potential parts of temperance. 
 
 The control or government of the passions falling 
 under the virtue of temperance implies the existence of 
 a law or norm of temperance with which the exercise 
 of these passions must be made to accord. This law or 
 norm of temperance we must here attempt to deduce. 
 Like all other laws of human action it is defined by the 
 end or object aimed at. The law regulating the use of 
 the means is always set by the end,* those things being 
 prescribed in every case which are necessary for attain- 
 ing the end. The law governing the use of the two 
 appetites here under consideration is set by their natural 
 end. Food and drink are meant in the economy of 
 nature for the maintenance of the individual life, and 
 the law governing their use is that they should be used 
 in such a way as to promote life and health, or, at all 
 events, that their use should not be inconsonant with 
 the maintenance of health, f The end of the sex appetite 
 
 ♦Aristotle Nich. Eth., VII. 
 
 t " S. Theol.," Q. CXLI. Art. 6. St. Thomas explains (a) that a 
 thing can be necessary for life in either of two senses — first, for life 
 itself, so that without it life would become extinct, e.g. food : secondly, 
 for the conveniences of life, e.g. pleasant food. The virtue of temperance 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 6i 
 
 is in the order of nature the propagation and welfare of 
 the race, and the law governing the exercise of this 
 capacity or appetite is that it should accord with the 
 welfare of offspring. Let us examine these two parts of 
 the law of temperance in some detail. 
 
 The requirements of health vary in different individuals 
 and, therefore, the rules governing the use of food vary 
 with different individuals. Also the requirements of 
 health and life vary in the case of the same individual 
 with difference of circumstances. The requirements of 
 the law of temperance vary in a corresponding manner. 
 And so it may happen, not merely that wide divergences 
 may occur in the law of temperance governing the 
 actions of men in different sets of circumstances, but 
 that under abnormal circumstances the requirements of 
 temperance may be completely at variance with what 
 is a universal law under normal circumstances. Thus, 
 if a surgical operation is necessary for health and life, 
 and no anaesthetic can be had, it would be lawful to 
 administer whiskey in such quantities as would render 
 the patient unconscious, a thing which could never be 
 lawful under ordinary circumstances. Under all cir- 
 cumstances the bodily health and life of the individual 
 are the norm and law of temperate action. 
 
 Opposed to temperance in the use of food and drink 
 is gluttony. The glutton is one who eats and drinks 
 as long as pleasure can be derived from those acts, 
 without care for the governing law of temperance. 
 Gluttony becomes gravely sinful when it leads to serious 
 injury to one's health, when it renders a man unfit to 
 perform the duties to which he is bound by grave obliga- 
 
 allows fully for both these necessities. But there are things that are 
 necessary for life in neither of these senses. Of these (b) some though 
 not necessary are still not opposed to life in any way ; and in some 
 cases they may even promote life and health {e.g. the more delicate 
 and expensive foods), and of these, according to St. Thomas, nature 
 allows a moderate use, account being taken of times and circum- 
 stances : (c) others are opposed to life, and these cannot be allowed. 
 Even, however, in the case of the best food, the quantity should be 
 such as accords with the health of the person. 
 
62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 tion, or when one casts off and despises all thought of 
 law and ordinateness in eating and drinking, and sets 
 himself to seek the pleasures of the palate for its own 
 exclusive sake, making as it were a god of this pleasure. 
 A special case of gluttony is the condition known as 
 drunkenness — or the condition in which the reason 
 becomes suspended through over-indulgence in intoxi- 
 cating liquor. The elements of sin here are many. 
 First, drunkenness always involves injury to health in 
 some degree. Secondly, in drunkenness the faculty 
 which is by nature meant to guide and control us in 
 eating and drinking is itself suspended as a result of 
 drinking. Drunkenness is, therefore, a perversion of 
 the natural order; it is analogous to that other per- 
 version of the natural order which occurs when the 
 citizens of the State seize without reason upon their 
 monarch, cast him into prison and treat him as a subject 
 of the citizens and as inferior to them instead of as 
 ruler. The temporary suspension of reason is not in 
 itself evil. Reason is temporarily suspended in sleep 
 by the gentle operation of nature itself. It is violently 
 extinguished at surgical operations by means of an 
 anaesthetic. But in both these cases, as St. Thomas 
 so well puts it,* reason herself requires the temporary 
 suspension of her own exercise for the sake of the . 
 welfare of the individual. Since, therefore, it is reason 
 that prescribes its own suspension in these cases, the 
 order of reason is here fully maintained.^ In ordinary 
 drunkenness, however, reason is suspended for no end 
 which is prescribed by reason, but merely for the sake 
 of excess in the pleasure of drinking. Thirdly,^ in 
 
 • " S. Theol.," II. II»., CLIII. 2 ad. 2 — " rationis actus aliquando 
 intermittatur pro aliquo quod secundum rationem fit." 
 
 t To restrain a monarch in obedience to the orders of the monarch 
 himself would not be inordinate in a citizen, since by following the 
 command of the mdiiarch the subject treats him as ruler and not as 
 a subject. It is so also in the case given above. 
 
 { This third reason is a variant of the second ; but it has its own 
 special significance. The second argument emphasises the fact that 
 the guide of conduct is put away, the third that " higher " is made 
 subject to " lower." 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 63 
 
 drunkenness the higher part of man is made completely 
 subject to the lower. In sleep and in surgical operations 
 reason and consciousness are suspended for the sake of 
 the welfare of the whole man, and the whole man is 
 superior to reason whxh is a part only. But in ordinary 
 drunkenness, reason, the higher part, is suspended for 
 the sake of a lower part, for the sake, viz. of a passing 
 organic pleasure alone. Drunkenness, therefore, is a 
 subversion of the natural order obtaining between the 
 parts of our human constitution. 
 
 The law of temperance in regard to sex desire must 
 now be explained. The end of the sex function in the 
 order of nature is the continuance and increase of the 
 human race. For that end the sexual faculty is supplied 
 by nature, and for that end nature has provided a special 
 inclination to its exercise. The law governing the 
 exercise of this function, as in the case of all other 
 functions, is set by its end. The sexual function can 
 only be exercised in a way consonant with the generation 
 of offspring. Any other use of it would be a perversion 
 of the natural order and, therefore, a violation of the 
 natural law. Sometimes, indeed, nature herself, through 
 no fault of the person, fails to realise the end of the 
 function through the sterility of either party. But that 
 failure on the part of nature is not to be attributed to 
 the human agent, and constitutes no bar to the legitimate 
 exercise of the sexual function, the governing law of 
 temperance in regard to which is that, so far as depends 
 on tfie human agent, the exercise of this faculty should 
 be of a kind which is consonant with its end. If the 
 subsequent natural processes over which man has no 
 control fail of their effect, that failure is an accident 
 only, it is not a sin, and represents no unlawfulness on 
 the part of man. 
 
 But the law of temperance as governing the relation 
 of the sexes goes farther still. For nature aims in this 
 function not at children only, but at perfect children, 
 
64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 i.e. at children up to the standard of nature— at children, 
 therefore, existing in a condition in which body and 
 mind can be properly cared for by those responsible 
 for its existence, not at children maimed in body and 
 defective in mind, or, through want of the responsible 
 natural guardians, exposed to the danger of a defective 
 existence. But, as we shall see later, an essential and 
 indispensable condition of the welfare and development 
 of the child is a stable union of father and mother bound 
 together for the welfare of their offspring, or what we 
 speak of as the condition of marriage ; and, therefore, 
 .marriage is an essential antecedent condition of the 
 exercise of the sexual function. Only in matrimony 
 is its exercise allowable by natural law. The future 
 child has a right even when the foundations of its 
 existence are being laid to this guarantee of protection 
 and welfare.* 
 
 The chief fart of the virtue of temperance as governing 
 the sexual relations is chastity, whereby one avoids all 
 that is contrary to reason and to the law of temperance 
 in the exercise of the sexual function. Governing the 
 less important relations of sex is the beautiful virtue of 
 modesty. Highest of all is virginity, or complete 
 abstinence from carnal desire for the sake of the more 
 perfect exercise of the higher faculties of man, and 
 particularly for the sake of more perfectly worshipping 
 and loving God, the highest and most perfect object 
 of human affection. In every department of human life 
 abstinence has its legitimate place, not only as a virtue, 
 but also as meriting the praise and commendation of 
 men. Men abstain from certain kinds of food and 
 drink in some cases for the sake of their health, in other 
 cases in order to maintain a strong and unclouded 
 
 * And this law and condition remain in force even though it is 
 anticipated that there will be no offspring. Nature's laws are deter- 
 mined not by accidents and exceptions but by what normally occurs ; 
 and besides it is clear that an act which (whatever may occur through 
 accident) is primarily intended by nature for offspring should not be 
 performed under conditions opposed to the essential and inseparable 
 rights of offspring. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 65 
 
 intellect. The philanthropist leaves country and friends 
 in order to carry out great schemes for the happiness of 
 other people. The soldier abstains froirf marriage in 
 order the more freely to serve his country. The virgin 
 renounces contact with the more material pleasures in 
 order to serve God more closely and unreservedly than 
 the married state allows. 
 
 Virginity is lawful because there is no commandment 
 of nature binding each particular individual to marry. 
 The sustainment of the race is a debt which is due not 
 by each individual but by the race at large. The main- 
 tenance of the individual life is a duty that falls on each 
 individual. Nobody else is in a position to secure this 
 end. But the propagation of the race, like progress in 
 the various branches of knowledge, does not require the 
 co-operation of each individual. " There are many 
 needs in a community," writes St. Thomas,* " and one 
 individual cannot meet them all ; but they are met 
 by the community through one man fulfilling one need, 
 another another. . . . The precept concerning generation 
 is one that regards the community as such . . . and it 
 is sufficient if some devote themselves to the propa- 
 gation of the race, whilst others devote themselves to 
 divine things, thus contributing to the beauty and the 
 welfare of the whole race, iust as in an army some guard 
 the camp, some bear the standards, some wield the 
 sword, all of which offices are debts of the community, 
 debts which no one man could discharge." 
 
 Thus it will be seen that though every man is free to 
 marry, virginity being a privilege and not a law for any 
 man, and though marriage is a high and holy state, yet 
 there is a higher and holier state still, that, viz. of the 
 few who are specially favoured by God with power to 
 renounce the more material pleasures, and are called 
 by Him to undertake offices that require this higher 
 state. But virginity is a virtue for the few only, not 
 for aU or for the greater number. The race, with all 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. II., CLII. 3- 
 VOL. ii— 5 
 
66 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 its aptitude for greatness, even its aptitude for virginity 
 in some, has to be sustained ; and marriage, by which 
 nature has provided for its sustainment, is a condition 
 of great worth, and of high and outstanding merit. 
 
 Some of Our Duties Towards Others 
 
 Our duties towards others are principally three — 
 the duty of charity or benevolence,* of speaking the 
 truth, of justice. We shall treat briefly of the first two 
 classes of duty in the present chapter. The third will 
 occupy us during many subsequent chapters. 
 
 Of Charity 
 
 A man is bound to be charitable towards, in the sense 
 of loving, his neighbour, first, because his neighbour is 
 one with him in his human nature. In benevolence we 
 put another man in our own place, and love him as an alter 
 ego ; and we are enabled to do this because of the unity 
 of all men in their common human nature. f Through 
 this unity of all with all in their common human nature, 
 nature has laid on us an obligation of loving all men, 
 this love being only a natural extension of, or develop- 
 ment from, our love of ourselves. This ground of 
 benevolence determines the measure also of the law of 
 benevolence — we must love others as we love our- 
 selves. Our duty, however, to love our neighbour as 
 ourselves is not to be understood as meaning that we 
 must love others with the same intensity with which 
 we love ourselves. It means that our love of others 
 must be like that which we bear to ourselves. We must 
 
 * We speak in the present chapter indifierently of charity, love, 
 and benevolence. The word charity is used here in a wider sense 
 than that commonly given to it. Love and benevolence we treat as 
 the same conceptions. The fine differences between them drawn by 
 St. Thomas in " S. Theol.," II. II*., 27, 2, need not be observed in 
 our present discussion. 
 
 I See Vol. I. p. 318. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 67 
 
 wish them well in the same way that we wish well to 
 ourselves. 
 
 Secondly, we are bound to love the rest of mankind 
 because we are all parts of one society, and it is a natural 
 law that the part exists for the whole and should pro- 
 mote the good of the whole. It is true that the in- 
 dividual man is not so much a part of society as that 
 his interests are to be treated as wholly subordinate to 
 those of society ;* nevertheless the individual is a part, 
 and should, therefore, love his fellowmen and seek their 
 good. 
 
 Thirdly, we should love our fellowmen because all 
 men have the same origin and are travelling to the same 
 end. We have come from God and God is our end and 
 home. Things that have the same nature have the 
 same end. If, in this world, men pass as strangers 
 to one another it is because the conventionalities and 
 perhaps the exigencies of society make it difficult for 
 us to realise, in all the relations of our lives, the fact 
 of our common origin and end, the full and vivid realisa- 
 tion of which fact, if allowed full play in our imaginations, 
 could not fail to unify all in the bonds of universal love 
 and sympathy, as all are unified in their origin and 
 their end. It is our imperfections as men that prevent 
 the links of charity from being forged or that cause them 
 to break and disappear as fast as nature and reason 
 tend to form them. However, being imperfect and 
 below the proper standard of human nature, it is as 
 well that the degree of friendship and brotherhood which 
 our common origin and end would justify and even 
 ought to entail, should not in this world be allowed to 
 come to complete fruition. 
 
 The love that nature demands from us is not without 
 its due order : for men are not all related to one another 
 with the same degree of closeness. Other bonds exist 
 besides those of origin, nature, and final end. Husband 
 
 * See Vol. I. pp. 334 and 343. 
 
68 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and wife are most closely related in their common life 
 and in the identity of their immediate daily aims ; 
 parents and children, sisters and brothers are identified 
 in community of blood. All these must extend to 
 one another love in its highest degree. Others are 
 related as superiors and subjects, or as comrades carry- 
 ing on the same work. The bonds here are close and 
 intimate and the love they owe each other should be of 
 a degree commensurate with those bonds. Others, 
 again, are related as compatriots, patriotism being a 
 strong and sacred link. It" also should beget a special 
 love. But all men have at least one tie, viz. the element 
 of their common humanity, and, therefore, love is 
 owing to all. 
 
 The claims also to which this love gives rise vary as 
 the closeness of men's relationship varies. When aid, 
 for instance, pecuniary or personal, is needed, those who 
 are closest to us have the first claim. But there is no 
 one who has not in absolute distress a claim on our 
 generosity. In pecuniary matters, indeed, it is not 
 possible for any man to help all that require aid, but 
 practically all can help some one, and everyone can 
 at least sympathise with all. 
 
 The love of our neighbour has many effects,* and is 
 opposed by many sins. Its effects are, internally, joy 
 at another's good, sadness at another's woes, the desire 
 for peace with others ; externally, -beneficence, alms- 
 giving, friendly reproof, administered, not anywhere, 
 at any time, and to anybody, but only when and where 
 there is a hope of producing good results. Opposed to 
 the love of one's neighbour are hatred, a sour tempera- 
 ment, envy, discord, contentiousness, sedition, scandal. 
 Greatest sin of all these is, perhaps, a wasteful and 
 unjust war, where men, on one side and on the other, 
 are treated as beings without rights and as the mere 
 slaves of wanton rulers. 
 ♦ " S. Theol.," 11. 11-:., Q. 38. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 69 
 
 Of Telling the Truth 
 
 The question of method is of importance here. Some 
 people arbitrarily define a lie as telling an untruth to 
 one who has a right to know the truth ; and having 
 given this definition they proceed to draw the not very 
 difficult conclusion that there is no sin in saying what is 
 false unless the person addressed has a right to know the 
 truth. The defect of this method will be obvious when 
 it is pointed out that if adopted generally in morals it 
 could be made to justify almost any act no matter how 
 bad. By arbitrarily defining murder, for instance, as 
 the killing of a man who has done me no harm, we might, 
 following this method, then proceed to justify the killing 
 of one who has done me harm — a kind of reasoning 
 which neither moralist nor court of justice could tolerate. 
 
 We are about to proceed to the definition of a lie ; 
 and the question of method is, as we said, of supreme 
 importance. Now the first thing to be made clear is 
 that in Ethics our discussion relates to things, not 
 words. What we are interested in here is the question 
 whether it is ever lawful to say what one knows to be 
 false. Whether we call this x, or y, or a lie, or anthro- 
 pophagus, makes no matter to 5ur discussion. We 
 may, however, be allowed to remark that once it is 
 settled that saying what we know to be false is in- 
 trinsically wrong, the further question whether the same 
 thing is wrong when the person addressed has or has 
 not a right to the truth becomes superfluous. If saying 
 what is believed to be false, is intrinsically wrong, it is 
 wrong in every case. Although, therefore, we shall 
 ourselves in the present discussion adopt as our definition 
 of a lie that which men usually understand by lying, 
 viz. saying to another that which one believes to be 
 untrue, we do so because that is, as we have said, what 
 men usually understand by lying, and it is the definition 
 adopted by the leaders in philosophy. But if any one 
 objects that his notion of a lie is different from this, 
 
70 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 we can only say, first, that this is the meaning which 
 we attach to the word ; secondly, that our discussion 
 here is concerned with things, not words, it is con- 
 cerned with the morality of declaring that which one 
 believes to be untrue, and that it matters not whether 
 we call this a; or y or a lie ; thirdly, that, once it has been 
 shown that telling an untruth is intrinsically bad, the 
 reader can then go on, if he wishes, to draw the simple 
 conclusion that to tell an untruth to one who has no 
 right to the truth is bad, and a fortiori it is bad to tell 
 it to one who has this right. 
 
 I. THE DEFINITION 
 
 We define a lie as speaking against one's own mind ; 
 speaking against one's understanding of things ; saying 
 that something is the case which one believes not to be 
 the case, or vice versa ; setting up an opposition between 
 one's speech and one's thought : locutio contra mentem* 
 These are all one conception, viewed and worded in 
 different ways. As our discussion proceeds it will be 
 useful to emphasise sometimes one form of the definition 
 sometimes another. In order, however, that we may 
 clearly see what is' and what is not contained in our 
 definition we shall here expand it into the following 
 form and then explain each part : a lie is any speech, 
 statement, communication, or representation, made to 
 another person, which seriously, that is, really, purports 
 to represent what one believes to be true, but which 
 yet the speaker knows to be untrue. 
 
 (a) Speech, statement, or representation. Such repre- 
 sentation maj' be made orally or in writing or by any 
 other sign, such as bending or shaking the head, shrugging 
 the shoulders, a nod, anything in fact which is usually 
 accepted by men as a statement or the equivalent of 
 one. From this it will be obvious that merely to do 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. 11==., ex. I — " mendacium nominatur ex eo 
 quod contra mentem dicitur." 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 71 
 
 things which mislead others is not a lie unless there is 
 made some statement whether by word or act. To bear 
 an unperturbed manner outwardly when one is raging 
 inwardly is not a lie. 
 
 (b) Made to another person. The primary and funda- 
 mental function of speech is that of communication 
 between one mind and another. We could not cotn- 
 miunicate our thought to another and each mind and 
 each man would consequently be isolated from all the 
 rest, unless by outward signs of some kind men were 
 capable of expressing their thoughts, and these signs 
 would be useless unless made to another who is capable 
 of understanding their meaning. There is no lie, there- 
 fore, in our statement, unless our statement is of the 
 nature of speech, that is, a communication made to 
 some other person. To say, for instance, when alone, 
 that the sun goes round the earth or that one's age is 
 twenty when it is thirt}', or to say such things to one's 
 dog or cat is not a lie. Communication requires two 
 persons, and speech is of the nature of communication. 
 
 (c) Seriously, i.e. really purporting to represent what 
 one believes to be true. The word " serious " is not here 
 used as opposed to " jocose." A statement made to 
 another and really purporting to represent the truth, is, 
 if it does not represent the truth, a lie, and it remains a 
 lie even when the end which one puts before himself is 
 jocose, i.e. when it is meant to create amusement, 
 either for himself or for others. To say to a boy on 
 All Fools' day that his teacher wishes to see him, when 
 it is known that this is not the case, is a lie — a very 
 minor lie, no doubt, but still a lie. The innocence of 
 the end aimed at diminishes, * indeed, the sin of lying, 
 but it still leaves the lying statement what it is in itself, 
 just as any other end would. 
 
 • " Diminuitur," says St. Thomas, "culpa mendacii si ordinatur 
 ad aliquod bonum vel delectabile, et sic est mendacium jocosum." 
 The holy doctor, had, as we see, an understanding for the delectation 
 of a jocose lie. 
 
72 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 It should be remembered, however, that it is possible 
 for the jocular element in our statement to become 
 itself a part of the statement instead of remaining 
 outside the statement, as merely the end to which it is 
 directed. And thus what is often incorrectly called a 
 jocose lie is really not a lie, but a true statement, made 
 up partly of words, partly of jocose acts, and partly, 
 perhaps, of the circumstances, for even the circum- 
 stances sometimes " speak." We ^id before that 
 " speech " is to be understood in a very broad way in 
 our definition of a lie. It includes not only words but 
 any acts that may be utilised by us to express, or even 
 to modify our expression of, our inner thought. Smiling, 
 nodding, a jocular tone of voice may all be used to 
 convey our meaning or part of our meaning, just as 
 well as words ; and, provided their significance is under- 
 stood by people generally, they have a claim to be 
 regarded as a substantive part of our speech, as adding 
 to, or modifying the literal sense of the words used. 
 When a lady of forty claims that she is twenty-two and 
 laughs whilst doing so, all sensible people understand 
 her meaning. Her laugh adds on the new statement — 
 " at least," to the words actually used. The statement 
 " it is a fine day," made when the rain is coming down 
 in torrents, gets a new meaning from the circumstances. 
 The very absurdity of the situation may be accepted as 
 giving a new meaning to our words.* Such statements, 
 therefore, are not lies. Taken in their completeness, 
 i.e. words, acts and circumstances being all included, 
 they do not oppose the speaker's mind. 
 
 We repeat, therefore, that any statement which, 
 while purporting to represent our mind to another. 
 
 * The absurdity of the statement is not always to be regarded as 
 altering the meaning of our words, and as saving our statement from 
 the guilt of lying. If such were the case there would be no such 
 thing as lying to foolish people or " flats." If our statement, which, 
 taken literally, is false, is to be saved from lying, the circumstances 
 and the absurdity of the situation must " speak " to both the parties 
 concerned, and not merely to the person who jmakes the statement. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 73 
 
 represents the opposite of our mind or belief, comes 
 within our definition of a lie. , 
 
 (d) Which yet the speaker knows to be untrue. There 
 is no difficulty in understanding this last clause con- 
 sidered in itself. But the interesting question arises 
 whether the lie, besides including all cases of statements 
 known to be untrue, includes also statements not known 
 to be true. There is a very great difference between 
 making a statement which is known to be untrue, and 
 making a statement not knowing whether it is true or 
 untrue. Is this latter kind of statement a lie ? 
 Obviously it has not been expressly included in our 
 definition, nor do we wish any expression of opinion 
 that is given here to prejudice the discussion to follow. 
 But we may record our opinion that even in the second 
 kind of statement mentioned, the opposition between 
 thought and speech, which we found to be the essential 
 element of the lie, is present in sufficient degree to bring 
 such statement within the category of lying. When a 
 man makes the statement " x is in London," whereas, 
 as a matter of fact, he has no idea whether x is in London 
 or Dublin, there is conscious opposition between the 
 expression used and the thought of the speaker, or the 
 world of reality as understood by the speaker. Even 
 if X should happen to be in London, the expression 
 used, though it . does not contradict the fact, yet does 
 contradict the speaker's mind about the fact. The 
 expression used is equivalent to, and is understood by 
 all to mean " the presence of x in London is the fact as 
 known to me," whereas as a matter of fact the presence 
 of X in London is unknown. The expression used pur- 
 ports to represent a positive mentality in the speaker, 
 whereas the speaker's mind is purely negative. He has 
 no mind on the question. All speech purports to repre- 
 sent the world of reality * as understood by the speaker. 
 If the statement made accords with this mentality 
 there is no lie : if it does not the expression is a lie. 
 
 * or, rather, a particular portion of the world of reality. 
 
74 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Hence saying what one does not know to be true would 
 seem to fall within our definition of the lie. 
 
 This lengthened discussion as to a mere definition 
 will perhaps be considered superfluous and aiming at 
 over-correctness. We have, however, been induced to 
 pursue it, because of the many, kinds of serious mis- 
 understanding to which St. Thomas' brief definition 
 exposes him. For the discussion that follows, however, 
 it will not be necessary to take account of all the 
 distinctions we have given. In proving the evil of 
 lying we shall confine our attention to the most ordinary 
 case of lying, i.e. saying in words and under ordinary 
 circumstances what we know to be untrue. As we 
 said before, it matters very little what we agree to 
 include in or exclude from the definition of the word 
 " lie." The main interest of the moralist centres round 
 the question whether consciously making a false state- 
 ment, whatever the name by which it goes, is, or is not, 
 in itself an evil act. 
 
 II. THE WRONGFULNESS OF LYING 
 
 We now go on to show that the lie is intrinsically 
 unnatural and bad. Some writers attempt to base the 
 evil of lying upon the consequences that it produces — 
 misunderstandings, danger to contracts, etc. But these 
 consequences do not constitute the essential and funda- 
 mental evil in lying — they are a resultant evil only. 
 If the evil of lying consisted in its consequences only, 
 a lie would be lawful in any case in which the speaker 
 could guard against these consequences * — a conclusion 
 which will hardly recommend itself to the acceptance 
 of even the least exacting of consciences. 
 
 The consequences of lying are genuine evils, but they 
 are extrinsic to the act. Besides this extrinsic element, 
 however, there is an intrinsic element also, an intrinsic 
 
 * See Vol. I. p. 292. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 75 
 
 " inordinateness," to use St. Thomas' words, in the lie 
 itself, which places it in the category of thingg forbidden, 
 semper et pro semper, in all circumstances, and inde- 
 pendently of its effects. This evil element is thus 
 described by St. Thomas :* " What is evil of its nature 
 can no wise be good and lawful ; because if a thing is 
 to be regarded as good, all that goes to make it up must 
 be good ; for goodness supposes soundness all round, 
 whereas any single defect makes a thing evil. But a 
 lie is evil of its nature for it is an act falling on undue 
 matter ; for since language is naturally the sign of 
 thought it is unnatural and undue to say in word what 
 one has not in his mind." The foregoing argument 
 makes certain assumptions which require to be ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The primary criterion of morals lies, as we saw, in 
 the natural objects or ends of the faculties. Any act 
 in which a faculty is used for an end or object which 
 is opposed to its natural end or object is unnatural, and 
 being unnatural is morally bad. In regard, therefore, 
 to the lie, the question arises — what is the natural end 
 of speech or language ? St. Thomas answers in the 
 words — " since language is naturally the sign of thoughts 
 it is unnatural and undue to say in word what one has 
 not in his mind." Language is naturally the expression 
 of thought. If language does not represent thought 
 then what does it represent ? This is what all men 
 understand it to represent. Remove that understanding ; 
 let it be understood hy common agreement that when 
 a man says " x is y" neither he nor his listeners should 
 regard the expression as implying that this was also 
 the speaker's belief or thought, and in that case language 
 would have lost all meaning. It would neither convey 
 information nor deceive. Its function would be gone. 
 It could no longer be used as a means of communication 
 between man and man. It would not be language any 
 longer. Speech, therefore, has this as its essential 
 
 * " S. Theol,," II». II»., ex. 3. 
 
76 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 characteristic, viz. that from its own nature, and in 
 every act, it purports to represent a man's thoughts. 
 We may prevent it from doing so by telling a lie, but 
 even when we do so, of its nature, it carries with it this 
 implication, it purports to represent our thought.* And 
 consequently this being the inner, inseparable, and 
 natural implication of speech, the condition without 
 which language is not language and has no meaning, 
 its natural object and end must be to represent man's 
 thought. When by speaking falsely we frustrate speech 
 of its natural object, using it, not to represent our 
 thought, but the opposite of our thought, then speech 
 is an act falling on " undue matter " and is evil. The 
 lie, therefore, is of its nature evil. 
 
 We are now in a position to understand the principle 
 so clearly inculcated in the works of St. Thomas Aquinas 
 that the lie is bad independently of its effects. It is 
 bad, in the first place, whether it deceives another or 
 does not, and whether it is intended to deceive or is 
 not.f In most cases, of course, a man tells lies only to 
 deceive. But there are cases in which a man may have 
 no such intention. He may know that deception is 
 impossible, but still speak falsely for some other end, 
 e.g. so as to avoid making a certain admission. But 
 whatever his intention, the intention to deceive is not 
 essential to the lie. The intention to deceive belongs, 
 as St. Thomas says, not to the essence but to the " per- 
 fection " of the lie, J i.e. to its full effectiveness. It is 
 not an absolute requirement. It is an extrinsic effect, 
 not a part or constituent of the lie itself. Again, a 
 lie is bad whether the person addressed has a right to 
 know the truth or has not. " A lie," writes St. Thomas, 
 " has the character of sinfulness not only from the 
 injury which it inflicts on others but from its own 
 
 * As Bosanquet says : " The claim to be true is rooted in our 
 assertions." (Phil. Theory of the State," p. 148). 
 
 f St. Augustine considered that the intention to deceive was of 
 the essence of lying and necessary to it. 
 
 jii.ii"^., ex. I. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 77 
 
 inordinateness." * It is bad from its very substance 
 and its intrinsic badness is prior to its evil^ effects — a 
 fact which should be evident from our ordinary con- 
 ception of the particular disgrace which attaches to lying. 
 For if a man has a right to know the truth, we violate 
 that right quite as effectively by keeping silence as by 
 telling an untruth. But when in addition to merely 
 witholding the truth we also proceed to tell a lie, the 
 whole world recognises a new disgrace in our act. We 
 have now not only denied to another his just rights but 
 we have incurred a special guilt with a special name. 
 We are not only unjust men but liars also. This universal 
 and instinctive method of viewing the lie confirms, we 
 claim, the view expressed in the present paragraph that 
 the lie has an inordinateness of its own, distinct from 
 its effects. 
 
 OF MENTAL RESTRICTIONS 
 
 Mental restrictions, properly so called, are not lies, and 
 of themselves are not evil. " Non est licitum," writes St. 
 Thomas,!' " mendacium dicere ad hoc quod aliquis alium a 
 quocumque periculo liberet : licet tamen veritatem occultare 
 prudenter sub aliqua dissimulatione." There is no untruth 
 unless the words are opposed to the mind of the speaker. 
 Now a speaker may employ a form of words which, whilst 
 effectively concealing his thought, or rather whilst not 
 revealing it, yet in no way can be said to oppose his thought ; 
 such a form of words does not fall under the category of 
 the lie. 
 
 When a question is put to a man, he may, if he does not 
 wish to give the required information, do either of two 
 things. On the one hand, he may remain silent or rebuke 
 the questioner, or say that he refuses to answer ; on the 
 other hand, he may reply by an ambiguous expression, which, 
 intended in one sense opposes the speaker's mind, intended 
 in the other does not. Naturally a speaker who wishes at 
 once to be truthful and yet to conceal his opinions intends 
 
 * II. 11==., ex. 3, ad. 4. 
 t II. 11==., ex. 3, ad. 4. 
 
78 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 his words in the latter sense, and if this is really a legitimate 
 sense, then, no matter how his words are understood by those 
 to whom they are addressed, the guilt of the he is not incurred. 
 Such answers are known as mental restrictions, because they 
 are statements in which the speaker intends his words in a 
 restricted sense, in one meaning out of the many which they 
 are capable of bearing. Thus the master of a house who does 
 not desire to interview his visitors gives orders to his servants 
 to say that he is not at home. New " not at home " bears 
 two senses for people who are in the habit of visiting. It may 
 mean "out," or it may mean "not receiving visitors," and 
 if the words are intended in the second sense the expression 
 accords with the speaker's knowledge of the facts, and 
 consequently there is no lie. 
 
 In all cases of lawful mental restriction it is supposed 
 that the words used really bear the meaning intended, the 
 meaning in the sense of which they are true. If they do 
 not legitimately bear this meaning, if in the common under- 
 standing (at least in the understanding of the class of persons 
 concerned in the conversation) this meaning is impossible or 
 absurd, in other words, if the meaning intended, and in which 
 alone the words are true, exists in the mind of the speaker 
 only, and not in the words themselves, then the restriction 
 intended is purely mental, and the statement is simply a lie.* 
 Thus, if a man when questioned as to whether he had fired 
 a shot into the street answers that he did not, meaning that 
 he did not fire it of his own accord, that he was induced to 
 do so by another, such person makes use of a restriction 
 which is purely mental. No sensible person would regard 
 the words " I did not fire " as capable of bearing such a 
 meaning. This meaning, therefore, does not reside in the 
 expression used, but only in the mind of the speaker. 
 Consequently, in the only sense in which the words can be 
 understood, they oppose the mind of the speaker and 
 constitute a lie. 
 
 The use of mental restrictions is not without its dangers. 
 It is easy to transgress the bounds of veracious statement 
 by attempting to use words in restricted meanings, for often 
 
 * Hence the distinction between restrictions broadly mental and 
 purely mental. In the first case it is supposed that the sense intended 
 by the speaker, the sense which justifies the use of the statement, not 
 only exists in the speaker's mind, but genuinely attaches to the words 
 also. In the second case the meaning intended is supposed to dwell 
 in the mind of the speaker only. The former kind of restriction is 
 lawful, the latter unlawful. 
 
A MAN'S DUTIES 79 
 
 such meanings do not genuinely attach to them. Besides, 
 a habit of using mental restrictions is likely to create a 
 facility in imagining as possible what really are impossible 
 meanings, and often leads to the formation of a lax conscience 
 in the matter of speaking the truth. Very cute and over- 
 careful people who take a delight in hiding their thoughts 
 from others, are likely to become too venturesome in the 
 use of mental restrictions, and often in this way come to 
 be regarded as, and to be, liars. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 OUR DUTIES TOWARDS OTHERS 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 On Justice 
 
 general observations 
 
 In an earlier chapter of this work we defined justice, 
 regarded as a special virtue,* as that virtue which 
 inclines a man to give every one his own. It is essentially 
 a social virtue regulating our relations with the rest of 
 society. The virtue of charity also takes account of 
 our relations with others ; but whereas charity imposes 
 on us obligations towards other men which are based 
 on the fact that others are one with us in human nature, 
 in blood, in nationhood, or in some other common 
 possession, justice takes account of the opposite of this, 
 viz. our independence of one another, our claims as 
 against one another, our distinction, our " otherness " 
 as persons. It is essentially a virtue ad alterum. 
 
 Now justice relations arise in society in two ways : f 
 first, as a part or member of society each has certain 
 justice relations to the whole of which he is a part ; 
 secondly, he has certain justice relations to the other 
 parts considered as'parts. Distributive justice regulates 
 the first class of relations, commutative justice the 
 second class. Distributive justice inclines a ruler as 
 representing the whole of society to distribute the puUic 
 
 * In a wide sense the word " justice " is sometimes used to signify 
 " what accords with law." In this sense it is spoken of as general 
 justice, and is the equivalent of " all virtue." But there is a special 
 justice also. 
 
 fS.Theol.," II. 11^., LXI. i. 
 
 80 
 
OUR DUTIES 81 
 
 goods, such as public money, political honours, positions 
 in the public service, etc., in a just manner, without 
 favouritism, and without injury to the common good ; 
 also to abstain from placing unjust burdens, by way of 
 taxation, on any particular class in the community. 
 Commutative justice regulates the actions of each 
 member of society in regard to the others considered 
 as mere parts. Also it regulates our dealings with one 
 another, not in regard to public moneys, but to private 
 possessions. "^ 
 
 The limits of our space, as well as the scope of the 
 present work, forbid any discussion on problems of 
 distributive justice, most of which are considered in 
 the special science of Political Economy. The problems 
 in justice that are to be considered in the present work 
 are all problems of commutative justice. 
 
 COMMUTATIVE JUSTICE — ITS GROUND 
 
 Justice, like every other virtue, is based on the relation 
 of men to their final end. A man is bound to attain his 
 natural final end. This he does by aiming at his own 
 natural perfection. He is, therefore, under an obligation 
 to aim at his natural perfection.* Being under an 
 obligation to attain this end, he has a right to the means 
 that lead to this end. And his right extends not only 
 to the things that are absolutely necessary for this end 
 but to all the means that are supplied by nature, and 
 that promote it in any way, provided that in taking 
 these means he does not interfere with the rights of 
 other people. A man has a right to eat or run or walk 
 or talk or open a business, but he must not, in the exer- 
 cise of his right, interfere with other persons 
 ^, We have distinguished means that are absolutely neces- 
 sary for one's end, and means that are not necessary 
 but that promote this end. To both classes of means 
 
 ^ * in some degree. 
 VOL. II— 6 
 
82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 men have rights, for nature suppUes her goods that 
 they may be used for man's perfection. But there is 
 a difference in our rights to these two classes of things. 
 To those means that are absolutely necessary, e.g. the 
 food necessary to life, man has an absolutely inde- 
 feasible right, a right which cannot be defeated by any 
 human law. To the rest he has a right, but it is a right 
 that can be defeated by the civil law if the good of 
 society so requires : and even if not defeated wholly, 
 it is a right that is largely subject to compromise, in 
 which way only is it possible in certain cases to har- 
 monise the competing rights of different people.* In 
 general, then, it may be said that in proportion as 
 things are necessary for a man's natural perfection 
 and final end, one's right to these things is absolute 
 and indefeasible. 
 
 From this it will be seen that in the order of nature 
 the law of justice is a law of equality, that all men are 
 possessed of equal rights, in the sense that they all 
 have the same final end, and the rights of men are 
 determined by that end. In the order of nature, and 
 considering men as human beings only, as persons, and 
 apart from other conditions to be mentioned presently, 
 the rights of men are equal. As a person, no man is 
 mere means to another, the end of all being the same. 
 Human beings, as human beings, are all possessed of 
 equal initial rights. 
 
 What is meant by this condition of initial equality 
 and how it gives place by natural law to later inequality 
 can be seen by an example. If twenty men, standing 
 in no other relation to one another but the relation 
 of man to man,| happened to be cast on a desert island 
 not one of these men would at the beginning have 
 superior rights to the others in regard to life or property. 
 But soon this initial law of equality would be succeeded 
 by a condition of actual inequality, or, rather, would 
 
 * How inequalities arise in men's rights will presently be seen, 
 t Father and son would have different rights. 
 
OUR DUTIES 83 
 
 itself give rise to such a condition. For in the first place 
 an equal division of property having been made it would 
 soon transpire that the superior strength, energy and 
 ability of one man enabled him to use his property to 
 greater effect than the others, and to the surplusage of 
 the fruits accruing to him over the amount accruing to 
 the others he would have a full natural right. Then, 
 later, we might imagine a further influx of persons into 
 the island, and families being founded, and property 
 transmitted, and in a brief period the original condition 
 of equality obtaining in that small community would 
 be completely eclipsed by the subsequent inequalities. 
 These inequalities would be created by the unequal 
 capacities, energies, and opportunities of the original 
 inhabitants, and also by the exercise of their rights by 
 other persons, for instance, their right to set up such 
 businesses as in no way interfered with the rights of 
 the original inhabitants. And it is important to point 
 out that this condition of inequality in possessions would 
 be quite in harmony with the original law of equality 
 dictated by nature, and would itself arise out of the 
 free exercise of men's equal initial rights ; also that to 
 disturb any man in his possessions, even though they 
 happened to be greater than those of others, would be 
 to violate and defeat that very law of equality whereby 
 each in the beginning was made owner of all that he 
 could produce by the exercise of his own capacities. 
 By leaving each man in his possessions, therefore, we 
 maintain the equality required by justice : for which 
 reason Aristotle explains that the end of justice is to 
 maintain or restore equality not in the sense that all 
 should have equal amounts but that men should be 
 left with all that they have, justly acquired, and that 
 if this balance happens to be disturbed it should be 
 restored. 
 
 In a second way also inequalities would supervene 
 upon the original condition of equality, and without 
 doing violence to that condition. For a group of men 
 
84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 could not long continue to work together without feeling 
 the need of some ruling authority to settle disputes and 
 to combat disorder when it arose, and so they would 
 appoint * one of themselves to rule over them either 
 permanently or temporarily, or each acting in turn, all 
 being equally eligible for the position, but some being 
 more suited to rule than others ; and thus beside 
 inequality of possession, there would arise juridical 
 inequality, or inequality in ruling authority ; and this 
 inequality would itself be consonant with, and a re- 
 sultant of, the equal rights of all, for it would accord 
 with the wishes of all. each being anxious to exercise 
 his rights in peace, and, therefore, under a rule that 
 preserved and guaranteed justice and order. Inequali- 
 ties, therefore, arise not only through the unequal 
 talents, energies and opportunities of different individ- 
 uals, but through the exigencies of the social body as 
 such. But these inequalities in no way contravene the 
 natural and original equality of the rights of all men as 
 men, or as persons. 
 
 In the present chapter we have nothing to do with 
 the relations of ruler and subject. These relations will 
 come before us in a later chapter on the State. Our 
 present discussion relates only to a man's rights to 
 his possessions, and in this respect we now go on to 
 speak of the end of commutative justice. 
 
 COMMUTATIVE JUSTICE — ITS END 
 
 All justice, whether distributive or commutative, aim 
 at establishing equality, not, as has just been said, in 
 the sense that all men should have equal amounts, 
 but that each man should get what he has a right to, 
 and that if any man holds that to which he has no right 
 
 * This is not the only rightful way in which a ruling authority 
 appears in society. It is not even the original way as will be seen 
 later in our discussion on the origin of the State. We are here dis 
 cussing only a particular case. 
 
OUR DUTIES 85 
 
 the balance required by law should be restored. But 
 the kind of equality at which distributivcjustice aims is 
 different from that which is effected by commutative 
 justice. Distributive justice aims at equality of pro- 
 portion * — at giving to each according to the worth of 
 each, the better positions and the higher salaries going 
 to those persons who are cleverer, more industrious, and 
 of greater value to the State. Commutative justice 
 takes no account of the worth of persons, in the sense 
 that, in deciding what one man should pay another, it 
 treats the parties as men only, as equals, and decrees 
 that if a man has wrongfully been deprived of his pos- 
 sessions they should be restored to him, and in full, 
 no matter what h s position, character, or worth. " It 
 makes no difference," says Aristotle, writing of com- 
 mutative justice,! " whether a good man defrauds a 
 bad one or a bad man a good one . > . the law look? 
 
 * " Nich. Eth.," V. 3, 8. Aristotle is here speaking of distributive 
 justice in which connection he gives the following formula : if ' a ' 
 represents one individual (or rather his worth), ' b ' the worth of 
 another, and ' c ' and ' d ' are the respective amounts due to them by 
 the State, then ^ = ^ • Of this formula Aristotle also gives ar interest- 
 in? variant showing how the position of the parties after distribution 
 (i.e., the person plus the goods received) corresponds with their 
 respective degrees of worth or merit before, viz., fS=5 In 
 commutative justice, on the other hand, ' a ' and ' t ' are treated 
 as equal and, therefore, the problem that confronts us here is the 
 relatively simple one of restoring or maintaining the balance in things 
 without respect of persons. Commutative justice deals with ' c ' and 
 ' d ' only. 
 
 In V. 4, 3 Aristotle speaks of distributive justice as aiming at 
 geometrical proportion, whilst commutative justice is said to aim at 
 arithmetical proportion. The latter expression is not well chosen, 
 its only justiiication being that in a certain class of problem commu- 
 tative justice corresponds with the arithihetical mean between two 
 numbers. Thus if two men have five pounds each, and one steals 
 a pound from the other, their respective possessions are now six and 
 four pounds. Commutative justice requires the re-establishment 
 of the original position which is represented by the arithmetical 
 mean of the two sums. The series 4, 5, 6, Aristotle here speaks of 
 as an arithmetical proportion. Moderns call it an arithmetical pro- 
 gression. In contrasting, therefore, distributive and commutative 
 justice it is better to speak of the former, as Aristotle does in more 
 than one place, as aiming at proportional equality. Commutative 
 justice may then be said to aim at simple, or absoliite equality. 
 
 I "Nich. Eth.," v. 4, 3, 
 
86 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 only to the difference created by the injury, treating the 
 parties themselves as equal and only asking whether the 
 one has done and the other suffered injury or damage." 
 
 We now go on to speak of some problems in com- 
 mutative justice. A man can suffer injustice in three 
 ways — in his person (as by assault), in his character 
 (as by detraction), and in his property (as by robbery). 
 We shall treat of the more fundamental problems arising 
 under each of these headings, devoting the remainder 
 of the present chapter to injuries to the person and to 
 character : injuries to property will be considered in 
 several chapters to follow. 
 
 The first set of problems, i.e. injuries to the human 
 person, is best introduced by a discussion of the 
 question : 
 
 WHETHER IT IS LAWFUL TO KILL ANIMALS ? 
 
 Our position is that it is lawful to kill animals, and 
 for the following reasons : — 
 
 (a) Animals are not possessed of rights, and, therefore 
 in killing them no injustice is done to them. Our state- 
 ment that animals have no rights and that no injustice 
 can be done them will appear strange to readers who 
 meet it for the first time, and will also seem to lead to 
 consequences that are generally repudiated by sensible 
 and feeling men. But a little consideration will show 
 that our contention is far from unreasonable either in 
 itself or in its consequences. Right, as we saw,* is a 
 moral relation, holding between moral persons only, 
 between rational beings. Right is a very different 
 thing from physical force or a physical fact. To have 
 a right to a thing means that it ought to be given to one 
 or left in one's possession, and this " ought " and its 
 correlative right may still remain, even though the 
 
 ♦ Vnl T n h3fi 
 
OUR DUTIES 87 
 
 object is not and never shall be actually in the possession 
 of its owner. Right, therefore, so far from being a 
 physical fact of any kind, expresses a moral relation, 
 which only a rational being is capable of understanding, 
 and which obtains in the sphere of reason and rational 
 beings only. * Only a rational being is capable of under- 
 standing the conception of " oughtness." And, there- 
 fore, since animals are not possessed of reason and are 
 not moral persons, they lie outside the sphere within 
 which rights obtain. 
 
 These propositions we have established in an earlier 
 chapter of this work, and our proofs need not be re- 
 peated at this point. But we may here be allowed 
 to mention, as an indication of how far removed animals 
 are from the order within which rights obtain, the fact 
 that an animal from its very nature is incapable of 
 claiming anything as its own. An animal may use 
 claws and teeth to hold what it has, but it cannot claim 
 anything as its own, either externally, by an outward 
 expression of its will, or internally by any mental act. 
 For claiming is an act of reason and it relates to an ob- 
 ject which, as we have said, the animal is wholly in- 
 capable of conceiving, viz. that something belongs to 
 it, that is, that something ought to be left in its posses- 
 sion, that it has a right to something. Being incapable 
 therefore, of an act of claim, incapable, i.e. not merely 
 now hut for all time, it cannot be regarded as having 
 rights. Right and the power to claim what is one's 
 right are inseparable conceptions. Children and idiots 
 may, indeed, be incapable of actually claiming what is 
 theirs. But they possess at least the faculty by which 
 claims are made, viz. reason. Animals do not possess 
 the faculty of claiming. Therefore, they do not come 
 within the world of rights. 
 
 Nor does the admission of this principle that animals 
 have no rights embarrass us by the conclusions to which 
 it leads. Though animals have not rights, and we 
 have no duties to or towards animals, we yet may have 
 
88 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 duties about or concerning them, duties to their Supreme 
 Owner, all of whose creatures must be used according 
 to reason. What the extent of our rights is, and what 
 the restrictions placed upon our liberty in fegard to 
 animals, will be seen in the course of the present chapter. 
 
 As animals, therefore, have not rights, -it cannot be 
 an injustice to kill them. 
 
 (b) Animals exist for man. It is highly necessary 
 that 'we should have a right sense of the meaning of 
 this important proposition, which is often misunder- 
 stood. When we say that animals exist for man our 
 direct meaning is not, as is commonly stated, that the 
 Creator had no other purpose in His mind than that 
 they should serve men, and that they would never 
 have been brought into existence had man not been 
 created. What reference our present principle bears 
 to the mind of the Creator will be seen at the end of 
 this section. But, directly and immediately, all that we 
 mean when we say that animals exist for man, is that in 
 the natural order the less perfect is always used, and 
 graded, as means to the more perfect ; and since animals 
 are of a lower and less perfect order of nature than men, 
 they exist in nature as means to man. 
 
 In showing how nature in all cases subordinates the 
 less perfect to the more perfect, using the former as 
 means to the latter, St. Thomas makes use of an illustra- 
 tion which, to our mind, is really more than an illustra- 
 tion, for it furnishes independent proof of the special 
 position which the inorganic, the vegetable, and the 
 animal world occupy in the scheme of natural things in 
 relation to man. In the first place St. Thomas makes 
 reference to a well-known and indeed obvious principle 
 of growth (generatio) or evolution, a principle that follows 
 from the very meaning of growth, viz. that in the pro- 
 cess of growth each earlier stage subserves and is means 
 to the accomplishment of the next later, and that the 
 whole group of stages is means to the final product. 
 The seed is means to the young plant, the growirig root 
 
OUR DUTIES 8-, 
 
 and stem are means to the fully developed tree.* Now 
 this principle holds good for everything tha* is subject 
 to natural growth, but St. Thomas considers it in special 
 connection with the growth of the human embryo, i.e. 
 with man himself in his becoming. The human embryo f 
 is at first a living object, a plant, one, no doubt, which 
 nature endows with special potentialities, but still, so 
 far as nature, form, and actual capacities are concerned, 
 a plant. Later, this same embryo reaches the animal 
 stage : it becomes endowed with the structure, powers, 
 and qualities that belong to the animal nature. Finally, 
 the crown and flower of the whole progressive series 
 appears : that which was a plant and animal becomes a 
 human being. In this process of development each 
 earlier stage is but a means to, and exists for the sake 
 of, each later and higher stage. Plant-life is by nature 
 made to serve as means to animal, animal as means to 
 man. Hence, taking a wide survey of the order and 
 economy of nature, we find that nature herself ordains 
 the vegetative and animal kingdoms to serve as means 
 to man. 
 
 An argument of less importance than that which pre- 
 cedes, but on whicR Aristotle principally relies in estab- 
 
 • From which we conclude not only that this seed is means to this 
 tree, but that the seed species is means to the tree species ; so also it 
 will follow from St. Thomas' argument that the plant and animal 
 species are means to the human species. 
 
 t We are here only expanding the broad and careful, though brief, 
 exposition of the natural law as given in " S. Theol.," II. 11*., LXIV. i. 
 " In generationis via," St. Thomas writes, " natura ab imperfectis 
 ad perfecta procedit, et inde est quod, sicut in generatione hoininis, 
 prius est vivum, deinde animal, ultimo autem homo, ita etiam ea 
 quae tantum vivunt ut plantae sunt communiter propter animalia ; 
 omnia autem animalia sunt propter hominem ; et ideo si homo utatur 
 plantis ad utilitatem animalium et animalibus ad utilitatem hominum, 
 non est illicitum." Notice that St. Thomas does not represent the 
 embryo in its first stage as merely a plant or merely living, but as a 
 living thirty. In fact he contrasts it with other plants " quae tantum 
 vivunt." The fact that the early embryo in the course of its growth 
 is found at length to transcend the plant nature, and to become an 
 animal, shows that in the beginning:, it is not a mere plant, that it is 
 a plant endowed with special potentialities in virtue of which it grows 
 into an animal. In the same way in its second state the embryo js 
 pot merely an g,nimal. It is all through potentially a man. 
 
90 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 lishing the view that animals exist for man, is to be 
 found in the fact that nature provides men with organs 
 and capacities for the use of the inferior orders of things, 
 and thus indicates her intention that they should be 
 used by men. Not only has nature provided man with 
 organs for obtaining, eating, digesting, and assimilating 
 vegetable and animal food, whereby almost exclusively 
 we live, but she has also provided the gift of reason 
 whereby these inferior things are put to innumerable 
 other uses, which uses constitute a great part of what is 
 included in, as well as being indispensable to, natural 
 human development. These inferior things serve for 
 purposes of " clothing and various instruments," * as 
 means to amusement, travel, industry, art, and other 
 human pursuits. Now, if we may not use the inferior 
 species as means to human progress, our capacities for 
 using them have been given to us in vain. And, there- 
 fore, "since nature makes nothing incomplete," writes 
 Aristotle, " and nothing in vain, the inference must 
 be that she has made all animals and plants for man." 
 
 The natural law, therefore, ordains both animal and 
 plant for the use of man, and as means to man. But 
 we saw in a prededing chapter f that the natural law 
 is a reflection of the eternal law of God from whom all 
 nature proceeds. And hence we are empowered to 
 draw the conclusion that the Author of nature as well 
 as nature herself ordains the inferior creatures for our 
 use. We may, therefore, kill animals for the sake of 
 some human purpose. 
 
 (c) Animals are naturally slaves. X That which is not 
 self-directive, naturally lies in the control of another. 
 Now animals are not self-directive, self-determined, but 
 are moved either by some outer force or some inner 
 impulse which they do not themselves initiate and 
 
 * " Politics," I. 6. In these brief words Aristotle includes all the 
 uses which it is possible to make of the lower creation. 
 t Vol. I. ch. xix. 
 I The expression occurs in Aristotle, " Politics," 1, 
 
OUR DUTIES 91 
 
 which they cannot control. They are thus, as St. 
 Thomas remarks, always " moved as it were by some- 
 thing else." * But man is a person, self-directive, sui 
 juris, propter seipsum existens.^ Into whose hands, 
 therefore, is the animal world entrusted if not into his ? 
 
 From all this it follows that in the order of nature 
 man is justified in using the lower animals as means to 
 human progress or welfare ; and that he is justified 
 even to the extent of killing them if killing is necessary 
 or even contributory to human welfare. J 
 
 But the same principle which justifies us in using 
 animals for purposes of human welfare or development 
 also fixes the limits of our rights in their regard. Our 
 use of animals, as of all things else, must be rational, 
 i.e. it must really serve some useful human purpose, 
 some true human good. In this respect it would be 
 wrong to take a narrow view of what it is that con- 
 stitutes a true human good, for in our dealings with 
 animals, even more than in our dealings with men, it is 
 a good thing to widen the sphere of human liberty to 
 the extremest limits which the law allows. Accordingly 
 we may say that it is our right to use animals for any 
 end which in the judgment of ordinary men would be 
 regarded as a part of human welfare. Animals, for 
 instance, may be killed in the hunt for the pleasure 
 afforded by hunting, but they may not be tortured for 
 the mere pleasure of witnessing their pain and em- 
 barrassment. The former contributes to health and 
 well-being, the latter confers on men no good of any 
 kind. It is nothing more than an exercise of cruelty, 
 the gratification of a perverted instinct for pleasure. 
 
 * " S. Theol.," LXIV. 2. 
 
 t " S. Theol.," LXIV. 2, ad 3. 
 
 X St. Thomas regards killing as the most obvious right of all. If 
 you may lawfully use them, he writes, you may lawfully eat them ; 
 and then adds naively, " and eating involves killing." 
 
92 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and, besides, it disposes men to cruelty not only with 
 animals but with human beings also. The torture of 
 animals is not indeed a violation of the rights of animals, 
 for, as we saw, animals do not fall within the sphere of 
 moral rights : but it is a violation of our rational human 
 nature and of the precept of the Author of our nature 
 that human acts should be done according to reason. 
 
 An interesting question arises in connection with our 
 present discussion on man's rights in regard to animals, 
 viz. the question of Vivisection, i.e. the dissection of 
 the living animal for the purpose of demonstrating some 
 fact or law of science. Vivisection is lawful because it 
 promotes knowledge, and knowledge is a true human 
 " good." But in vivisection it is possible to exceed 
 our rights since there are some kinds of, and some 
 circumstances attendant on, vivisection that in no way 
 contribute to any useful human purpose. Thus the 
 needless infliction of pain is unlawful since what is 
 needless is not contributory to the purpose in view. 
 The chloroforming of animals in vivisection is not in 
 general required by the moral law, since often such a 
 precaution would be gravely inconvenient to the work 
 of research, but where the use of an anaesthetic is in 
 no way prejudicial to the work of the scientist the 
 benefit of a painless dissection should be extended to 
 the animal. 
 
 A principle to be remembered in this connection is 
 that the degree of latitude allowed in inflicting pain is 
 to some extent to be measured by the degree of good 
 which ensues from the experiment which is made. In 
 actual investigation it would be difficult to regard any 
 degree of pain as forbidden if taking precautions against 
 it would cause inconvenience in one's work, since pro- 
 gress in science depends almost wholly on investigation. 
 In the lecture hall, on the other hand, one should not 
 inflict more pain than is really required for purposes of 
 plear illustration, 
 
OUR DUTIES 93 
 
 On Personal Injuries 
 
 We shall consider six questions under this heading : — 
 Whether it is lawful to put criminals to death ? 
 Whether it is lawful directly to put an innocent man 
 to death ? 
 
 Whether it is lawful to kill in self-defence ? 
 
 Whether accidental killing is a crime ? 
 
 Whether duelling is lawful ? 
 
 Whether it is lawful to interfere with a man's liberty ? 
 
 I. WHETHER IT IS LAWFUL TO PUT CRIMINALS TO DEATH ? 
 
 We think it well to quote the words of St. Thomas 
 Aquinas in answer to this question. 
 
 " It is lawful to kill brute animals in as much as they are 
 naturally meant for the service of man, the imperfect being 
 a means to the perfect ; now every part is referred to its 
 whole as the imperfect to the perfect ; and, therefore, every 
 part naturally exists for the whole (as rneans to its realisa- 
 tion). Hence we see that if it be expedient for the welfare 
 of the whole body that some member should be amputated 
 by reaspn of its being bad and corruptive of the rest of the 
 body, the removal of that member is praiseworthy and 
 salutary. But every individual person is related to the 
 whole community as part to whole ; and hence if any man 
 be dangerous to the community and is corrupting it by 
 reason of some crime then it is right and wholesome that 
 he should be put to death for the sake of the common good."* 
 
 This argument brings us a certain distance on our 
 way, but it requires to be supplemented by another which 
 is also to be found in St. Thomas' work. No doubt the 
 reason why a criminal may be put to death is because 
 he is a corrupt member of society, and through him the 
 whole community is injured. But still we are left face 
 to face with the difficulty that a human being even 
 when he commits a crime does not cease to be a human 
 being. Now, as we saw before,t a human being though 
 he is naturally a member of society, is not to be regarded 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. 11=., Q. LXIV. Art, 2. 
 t Vol. I. p. 334. 
 
94 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 as a mere member, or a mere part, and though as part 
 he is a means he is not a mere means to society. On 
 the contrary, he is a person, sui juris and as St. Thomas 
 declares, " propter seipsum existens," * in the sense that 
 he is not a mere means to anything else in nature. But 
 by putting a criminal to death for the common good, 
 society treats him as a mere means, as a mere member 
 of the organism, to be sacrificed for the good of the 
 organism. How is this possible ? 
 
 We answer— it is as a rational being that man is a 
 person, sui juris, "propter seipsum existens," and not 
 a mere means to anything else. But by offending 
 against the law of reason man withdraws himself from 
 the order of reason, falls below that order ; and society 
 is empowered to withhold from such an individual the 
 rights of an independent person, treating him as a 
 mere part of society, and may for the sake of the com- 
 mon good put him to death. 
 
 In this deep and far-reaching answer we are given the 
 reason not only why a criminal may be put to death, 
 but why also an innocent man whose life is a menace 
 to society (for instance because he is diseased in body, 
 or because a foreign ruler has decreed to destroy the 
 whole community if a certain innocent man is not put 
 to death) must still be treated as one who has a right to 
 his life. Such a one has not receded from the order 
 of reason, and, therefore, he still retains the privileges 
 of a rational being, and cannot be treated as a mere 
 means to the community in which he resides. He 
 cannot, therefore, be sacrificed for the good of the 
 community by being put to death. 
 
 St. Thomas merely lays down the abstract principle 
 that a criminal may be put to death because as a diseased 
 member he is corruptive of the whole of which he is a 
 part. He does not say in what cases he may be put 
 to death. There is really no general rule assignable, 
 and the cases in which society will put a subject to 
 
 ♦ Q. LXIV , Art. 2, ad 3 
 
OUR DUTIES 95 
 
 death will vary with the temperament and traditions of 
 peoples and the needs of States. Two things, however, 
 may be noted in this respect. One is that a subject can 
 only be punished for an external act ; for it is through 
 their external acts that men communicate with their 
 fellow-men, and act as part of the community. 
 Another is that even though now-a-days States will 
 only put a man to death for crimes which manifestly 
 and directly affect other parts of the community, e.g. 
 murder, still this prerogative of the State could be exer- 
 cised even where the direct effects of the crime which 
 is committed do not extend to other individuals, where, 
 in other words, the crime is private and where the only 
 effect on society is that a part of it (the offending 
 member) has gone bad. A corrupt member, even though 
 its corruption does not extend outside itself, is a derogation 
 to the dignity and worth of the whole body politic. 
 
 Only the public authority can inflict death. For the 
 killing of a criminal is lawful only in as much as it is 
 directed to the welfare of the whole community ; from 
 which it follows that the infliction of death appertains 
 to him only who has charge of the welfare of the com- 
 munity, just as the amputation of a limb is performed 
 by the surgeon to whom is committed the welfare of 
 the whole body, or by another deputed by him. Now 
 it is to the public authority that the care of the com- 
 munity is entrusted, and, therefore, only the public 
 authority or some one commissioned by that authority 
 may lawfully put a person to death. 
 
 Also, a particular individual, when commissioned by 
 public authority to put a criminal to death, can do so 
 only as representing public authority and the whole 
 community. It would not be lawful for him, even 
 when so commissioned, to slay a criminal for any private 
 end such as vengeance. By harbouring such an in- 
 tention he would incur, internally at least, the guilt of 
 homicide. 
 
96 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 2. WHETHER IT IS LAWFUL TO Pl)T AN INNOCENT MAN TO 
 DEATH 
 
 Unlike the animal, the innocent man is possessed of 
 reason, and unlike the criminal, he retains all the 
 privileges of a rational being, not having forfeited them 
 by violating some precept of reason. The innocent man, 
 therefore; is in a position the exact opposite of the 
 world of animals, and must be regarded and treated as 
 such. The animal is not possessed of rights, the 
 innocent man has rights which cannot be violated 
 without sin, and one of his first and most fundamental 
 rights is that he be not used as mere means to any other 
 person or to society. Having the same natural faculties 
 as other men, he has the same final end, since it is from 
 the natural faculties which a thing possesses that we 
 determine its natural end. Having the same end then 
 as other men and as society itself,* an end, as we sav/, 
 which is beyond all individuals and beyond society, 
 the individual man cannot be treated as mere means to 
 other men or to society. " Being furnished," writes 
 Locke, I " with like faculties, sharing all in one com- 
 munity of nature, there cannot be supposed any such 
 subordination among us that may authorise us to 
 destroy one another, as if we were made for one another's 
 uses as the inferior ranks of creatures are for ours." 
 But to kill or injure a man is to subject him to yourself, 
 to treat him as means to your own interest, complacency, 
 or purpose, and is unlawful. 
 
 Again, the innocent man is a person, self-directive, 
 sui juris, propter seipsum existens, and not a mere instru- 
 ment in the control of another. He cannot, therefore, 
 be treated as a mere thing to be handled as society 
 desires. 
 
 Finally, the only reason why it is competent for 
 society to put a man to death is that such a one is evil 
 and corruptive of the whole to which he belongs. But 
 
 * Vol. I. p. 334. 
 
 t Second of the Treatises on Government, ch. 2. 
 
OUR DUTIES 97 
 
 the innocent man, no matter what may be his physical 
 defects, and even though these physical defects are a 
 menace to societj?-, is, in the rational and human order, 
 the order which makes society what it is and gives it 
 its authority and its meaning, to be regarded as good 
 and sound, and, therefore, society has no authority to 
 put him to death. " The slaying of the sinner," writes 
 St. Thomas,* " becomes lawful in reference to the good 
 of the community that is destroyed by sin. On the 
 other hand the life of the just makes for the preserva- 
 tion and promotion of the community, seeing that they 
 are the worthier part of the people. And, therefore, it 
 is in no wise lawful to kill the innocent." 
 
 3. ON KILLING IN SELF-DpFENCE 
 
 Our present question concerns the killing of an unjust 
 aggressor, of one who without rightful authorisation 
 makes an attempt on another's life. May I kill an 
 unjust aggressor in self-defence ? 
 
 We answer — it is never lawful for a private person 
 directly \ to aim at the death of another, whether as 
 an end in itself or as a means to some good. No private 
 individual has authority over the life of another person, 
 and, therefore, to aim directly at encompassing ^the 
 death of another is a grave crime. It is wrong to aim 
 at the death of another as an end in itselt, because it 
 is wrong for the will to desire as an end what is in- 
 trinsically against natural law : and it is wrong to aim 
 at it as a means, because, no matter how laudatory the 
 end may be, it cannot justify a means which is essentially 
 a violation of the law. Even, therefore, though our 
 life is being assailed by another person unjustly it would 
 be wrong to aim directly at the death of the aggressor 
 as a means to preserving our own life. An act, as we 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. 11==., LXIV. 6 
 
 t Our doctrine here is expressly opposed to that of Card, de Lugo 
 (" Pe Just, et Jure," X. VI. 149) who maintains that if the death of 
 the aggressor were necessary in order to save one's own life his death 
 could be willed directly. 
 VOL. II — 7 
 
gS THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 said, which is essentially and intrinsically wrong cannot 
 be willed even as a means to saving our own life. 
 
 It will be said — but does not the man who unjustly 
 makes an attempt on the life of another forfeit his life 
 to that other — does he not place his own life at the 
 disposal of the person whom he attacks, and, therefore, 
 may the person attacked not aim at the death of the 
 aggressor ? Our reply is that no man is empowered to 
 forfeit his life to another, to place it at his disposal. 
 No man has such a right over his own life as that he 
 can take it 'away : and, therefore, he cannot confer this 
 right on another. We cannot, therefore, aim directly * 
 at the death even of an unjust aggressor. 
 
 But though it is not lawful to aim directly at the 
 death of an unjust aggressor, it is lawful to encompass 
 his death indirectly, i.e. whilst not aiming at his death, 
 to do an act which secures my own life, but from which 
 his death follows as a consequence. 
 
 The reader is already familiar with the problem 
 whether it is ever lawful to cause evil indirectly. In an 
 early chapter of this work it was seen that it is lawful 
 to do an act from which two sets of consequences follow, 
 one good and one bad, provided the bad consequences 
 are not directly intended or desired, f Thus it is lawful 
 for a man to invent or set up a new machine even though 
 some may lose their employment as a consequence. It 
 is lawful to set up a rival business even though grave 
 losses must be sustained by other firms. 
 
 Now the killing which is done in self-defence is indirect 
 onl}', and, therefore, it is not unlawful. The moral 
 character of an act, says St. Thomas, is determined by 
 the obiect aimed at J and not by something which is 
 
 * The reader should realise fully that one is said to aim directly 
 at an obiect, not only when he desires it as an end for its own sake, 
 bu^ also when he desires it as a means. If 1 kill a man m order 1o 
 get money, the killing is no less direct than when I kill for the sake 
 of kiUmg 
 
 ■f See Vol I., ch. 2 There are other conditions necessary also ; 
 they will be enumerated, p. loi. 
 
 J Either as end or as means. 
 
OUR DUTIES 99 
 
 beside one's intention. But in self-defence we aim at 
 one thing only, viz. preserving our own Jife, and, as 
 means to this, stopping the charge which is being made 
 upon us. That end and that means being legitimate 
 our act is legitimate. It is not rendered unlawful by 
 the fact that as a consequence of our action the aggressor 
 meets with his death. 
 
 The central and essential proof of the lawfulness of 
 killing in self-defence consists in showing that such 
 killing is indirect only, that the death of the aggressor 
 is not aimed at, but is beside the intention of the agent. 
 The death of the aggressor which occurs in self-defence 
 is aimed at neither as end nor as means, and there is 
 no other way in which a thing can be aimed at or directly 
 intended. It is not desired as an end, for in itself the 
 death of the aggressor is regarded as a grave misfortune. 
 What is aimed at as an end is the preservation of our 
 own life. The death of the aggressor is not aimed at 
 as a means to preserving our life, for the means by 
 which we secure this end is effectively stopping the move- 
 ment directed against us. or producing quiescence in the 
 aggressor. This is all that could ever be necessary to 
 put an end to the aggression and to save the life of the 
 person attacked. Death as such * could never be 
 necessary. Let quiescence be secured, and the attack 
 must of necessity come to a close. The death of the 
 aggressor, therefore, is not intended as a means. 
 
 It will be said — but is not the death of the aggressor 
 the means chosen to produce this quiescence and, there- 
 fore, it is not willed directly as a means ? We answer — 
 the death of the aggressor is not the means chosen for 
 this end. The means chosen consists of a thrust or a 
 
 • In this fact we have an additional proof that the direct killing 
 of the aggressor is never lawful. Card, de Lugo maintained that if 
 the death of the aggressor were necessary in order to save one's life 
 it would be lawful to aim at his death directly. But as a matter of 
 fact, death as such, never is necessary. Quiescence being once secured 
 the attack of necessity ceases. And, therefore, it is not lawful to 
 aim at more than this. 
 
loo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 wound or a series of wounds. It is upon the use of 
 these means that paralysis of movement occurs. If 
 death were the means adopted to produce quiescence it 
 should precede this latter condition, whereas in practically 
 every case quiescence is produced and the aggression 
 ended before death occurs : if death were the means 
 chosen to produce quiescence it would be desired by 
 the agent, whereas after the blow is delivered the agent 
 takes and is supposed to take every possible means to 
 prevent the occurrence of death : if death were the 
 means used in self-defence it should normally occur 
 where the defence is successful, since normally the end 
 aimed at is only secured by the actual realisation of 
 the means chosen to secure it. The occurrence of an 
 end in any other way is accidental and, therefore, rare 
 and abnormal. On the other hand in point of fact the 
 condition of immobility or powerlessness to strike is 
 as often followed by recovery as by death. 
 
 What is evident, therefore, is that in self-defence the 
 only means chosen and the only means necessary is 
 the stopping of the unjust aggression. The death of 
 the aggressor is not aimed at and is not a ne!cessary 
 means of self-defence. When death occurs it is caused 
 by us indirectly only and cannot be helped. 
 
 The death of the aggressor, therefore, in no way 
 enters into the series of means and ends that make up 
 the intention of one acting in defence of his life. The 
 order of aims in such a case is the following : to strike 
 or wound the aggressor, in order to stop his charge, 
 and to save one's own life. If as a result of the blow or 
 wound delivered, the death of the aggressor should 
 follow as well as paralysis of movement, the former 
 consequence is quite beside the intention of the agent ; 
 it in no wise enters into his aims either as means or as 
 end ; it is caused by the agent indirectly only. 
 
 In regard to killing in self-defence, therefore, the only 
 moral problem that legitimately arises is the problem 
 that we have already fully considered — the problem 
 
OUR DUTIES 101 
 
 of the lawfulness of causing evil indirectly, the problem 
 of the double effect. We saw in an eariier chapter* 
 that it is lawful to do an act which is followed by two 
 effects, one good and one bad, when only the good 
 effect is directly desired, when the bad effect is not the 
 means whereby the good is attained, and where the good 
 effect is of sufficient gravity and importance. In the 
 act of self-defence these three conditions are fulfilled 
 and, therefore, self-defence, even if it should involve the 
 death of the aggressor, is a lawful act. 
 
 From what precedes it is easy to gather the con- 
 ditions necessary for a blameless defence. First, the 
 death of the aggressor must not itself be made an object 
 of pleasure or be willed in itself ; secondly, the defence 
 must occur during or in the act of aggression (in ipso 
 actu aggressionis) else it would be more than the stoppage 
 of a charge ; f thirdly, not more violence should be 
 used than is required to stop the attack ; if more violence 
 is used than is necessary, our act is more than one of 
 
 •Vol.1, p. 39. 
 
 t A difficult question arises here. When may the aggression be 
 regarded as begun, and, therefore, when may a man begin his act of 
 defence ? Card, de Lugo maintains that an act of aggression has 
 begun as soon as a man makes up his mind to kill, so that if the presence 
 of such intention were made certain the other party could immediately 
 begin his defence ; and, )f no other way of escape were open, could 
 kill the aggressor. We have no difficulty, however, in rejecting his 
 opinion. Aggression is a menace to my life only in so far as it is 
 external, and, therefore, it is only when the act of aggression has 
 taken external form, i.e. has begun as an external act, that defence 
 proper becomes possible. You could not speak of defence against a 
 mere internal act. 
 
 But, on the other hand, to say when the external act of aggression 
 has begun is no easy matter. It is certain that a man need not wait 
 for his opponent to shoot in order to begin to set up his defence His 
 defence may certainly begin as soon as the aggressor lifts his gun or 
 even approaches to the fray. It is begun, whenever any act is done 
 which, in the common estimate of men, would be regarded as forming 
 part of the aggression. Some acts though they are meant to lead on 
 to aggression could hardly be regarded as part of the aggression ; 
 rather they are acts preparatory to aggression, e.g. the purchase of 
 arms for the purpose of aggression. Such acts, we think, could not 
 be regarded as setting up a right of immediate defence. In all such 
 cases, of course, there is room for very great differences of opinion 
 since it is not easy to say when an external act is only a means pre- 
 paratory to aggression, and when it is a part of the aggression. But 
 
102 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 defence, it is a new aggression ; perhaps we may add 
 a fourth condition for clearness sake — the act directed 
 against us should be strictly one of aggression.* I 
 cannot kill a diseased man simply because of the danger, 
 that, if he lives, I or others shall die.f His condition 
 does not make him an aggressor on others' lives. These 
 are the conditions required for the moderation of a 
 blameless defence. 
 
 It needs only to be mentioned here that just as it is 
 lawful to kill a man in defence of one's own life so it is 
 lawful to kill in defence of any very great good. But 
 again the act done must be strictly one of defence against 
 attack. It would be lawful to kill a man who attempts 
 to steal a large quantity of money, provided that killing 
 is the only way in which the robbery can be prevented. 
 A woman may kill in defence of her honour, J for violence 
 may be met with violence. But in all cases where the 
 good to be defended is not one's own life, but only 
 property or something of the kind, a condition § must 
 be added to those already mentioned as ensuring a 
 
 we believe that our two general claims hold good, first, that the mere 
 intention to attack is not an act of aggression such as would justify 
 killing in self-defence ; and, secondly, fhat before our attitude could 
 be construed as one of defence in the proper sense of the term, it 
 should concern an act which is in some way a part of the aggression, 
 and not an act which is merely preparatory to alggression. 
 
 * i.e., purposeful aggression — whether free or not free it does not 
 matter. I may kill a madman who attempts my life just as freely as 
 I can kill a sane man. 
 
 t Craniotomists sometimes forget this condition. The child 
 about to die is in no sense an aggressor on its mother's life. In justifi- 
 cation for this terrible crime it has been sometimes alleged that the 
 child is an aggressor. He is not an aggressor. If it is lawful to 
 kill the child, it is lawful to kill the diseased man in the case given 
 above. 
 
 I She could not commit suicide to prevent dishonour. Suicide 
 is not defence. Suictde would be choosing an evil means though to 
 a good end (See " S. Theol.," II. Il»., LXIV. 5, ad 3). But a woman 
 might risk her life to save her honour. If there was no other way of 
 escape she might even plunge into a river, not that by dying she might 
 escape, but hoping that the angels might bear her up, or that some 
 friend might happen to come nigh and save her from death. 
 
 § The required proportion was of course assumed when there was 
 question of aggression against one's life. One life is always pro- 
 portionate to another. 
 
OUR DUTIES 103 
 
 blameless defence, viz. there must be some proportion 
 obtaining between the good which is being saved and 
 the death of a human being. A rich man may not 
 kill in defence of a few shillings. 
 
 4. ON ACCIDENTAL KILLING 
 
 The question whether a man who kills another 
 accidentally should be held guilty of homicide is to be 
 solved by means of principles that have been fully 
 explained in another part of this work.* If what is 
 done is purely accidental, i.e. if it was in no way foreseen., 
 or, being foreseen, could not be avoided, then no responsi- 
 bility is incurred. If our^act is free, and if the conse- 
 quences are foreseen, f in at least some confused way, 
 then responsibility is incurred, and if the consequence 
 happens to be the death of another person, we are 
 guilty of homicide in the sense that we are the cause of 
 his death. J 
 
 * Vol. I. p. 33. St. Thomas (II. II«., LXIV. 8) explains that 
 the guilt of wilful homicide attaching to the case of indirect killing 
 arises generally in two ways, either through wilful negligence, or 
 because the act that is done is in itself illicit. The latter part of this 
 statement requires to be modified to some extent Even when the 
 act that is done is illicit, a man could not be held responsible for the 
 death that his act causes unless the result is foreseen at least in some 
 confused way. A trespasser on another's land might happen to 
 knock against the owner in the dark, and cause him to stumble and 
 fall ; yet, even if death ensued, the trespasser could scarcely be held 
 guilty of homicide. The result could not have been foreseen in any 
 way. Perhaps, indeed, we might say that so remote is the connection 
 between mere trespassing and such an occurrence, that the result is 
 to be ascribed not to the act that is done, but to the circumstances, 
 as its cause ; whereas the effects that here concern us are those that 
 our act causes For an interesting case at law see Pollock, " Law of 
 Torts," p. 48 (8th ed.). 
 
 t Obviously killing in self-defence is an instance of accidental 
 killing in this sense. It differs from other cases of accidental killing 
 only in the fact that in self-defence we intend violence, i.e such 
 violence as is required for defence. In other cases no violence is 
 intended. But in defence, though violence is intended, the death of 
 the aggressor is not intended. It is only his death which is accidental. 
 
 I i.e. provided the death is really the consequence of our act. 
 Sometimes, as we have iust said, the connection is so remote and the 
 number of circumstances that have to intervene before the result 
 occurs is so great that it could not seriously be maintained that 
 death is really an efiect of our act, 
 
104 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 But the additional question arises — granted that the 
 consequence is foreseen and that our act is free, are we 
 always guilty of sin on account of the consequences that 
 occur, or is the act which is attended by such fore- 
 seen consequences, ever justifiable'? We answer — an 
 act which, it is foreseen, will be attended by evil consfe- 
 quences, even that of the death of some innocent person, 
 is sometimes justifiable. But to be justifiable four con- 
 ditions must be fulfilled, (a) the act that we do must 
 be in itself indifferent, i.e. not illicit ; {b) the death which 
 occurs must not be desired on its own account ; (c) our 
 act must be attended by some overwhelming good, 
 sufficient to justify us in incurring responsibility for 
 such a terrible consequence as that of death ; (d) the 
 death that occurs must not itself be the means chosen 
 for securing that good. These conditions have so often 
 been explained in the present work that it will not be 
 necessary to repeat our explanation here. The diffi- 
 culties that arise in the moral and natural law generally 
 concern the third of these conditions. It is obvious 
 that the man who for mere fun fires a gun in a crowded 
 street, even though he does not wish to kill anybody, 
 is guilty of the grave crime of homicide, should anybody 
 be shot. There is no justifying reason for such an act. 
 On the other hand, the motorist who is hotly pursued 
 by enemies intent on murdering him, and who suddenly 
 sees a child before him in the narrow street, is not obliged 
 to stop, and if the child should be killed he is not to be 
 accounted guilty of sin. Though there is homicide, it is 
 justifiable. The fugitive had a right to escape, his 
 act was, therefore, indifferent in itself, it was in itself 
 not illicit, and the good which was at stake (viz. his own 
 life) was of sufficient gravity, even in comparison with 
 the child's death, to justify his use of his own right, 
 even though attended by such a painful consequence. 
 
 In foro externa. Judges of the external court are often 
 confronted with a difficulty which does not exist for the 
 moralist, that, viz. of determining whether or not the evil 
 
OUR DUTIES 105 
 
 consequences of a man's action were or were not foreseen.* 
 The moralist determines the amount of guilt whjph is incurred 
 if the consequences were foreseen. For the external courts 
 a much more important question often is — whether they were 
 foreseen. So far, at all events, as those consequences are 
 concerned which occur as a result of wilful negligence, the 
 following practical test is availed of universally in England. 
 A man is held to foresee at least the natural and immediate 
 consequences of his act, and to be responsible for such 
 consequences. Now common sense will often teU us the 
 consequences that ought to be considered as natural and 
 immediate. They are those, for instance, that are of the 
 same nature as the act that causes them, e.g. a blow followed 
 by death, or they are those that normally accompany the 
 act. But there wiU be many cases where the naturalness 
 and immediateness of the consequences are far from obvious, 
 and hence a more practical working rule for judging of the 
 foreseen consequences is desiderated. Such a rule is afforded 
 by a supposed appeal to the distinctively prudent and 
 reasonable man. Any consequence is supposed to be fore- 
 seen which a prudent and reasonable man would have fore- 
 seen in the circumstances. But the prudent and reasonable 
 man is, like the " economic " man, hard to find or identify. 
 And hence we are provided with another rule — the English- 
 man's final test of what was and was not foreseen : a man is 
 presumed to have foreseen such consequences as a jury of 
 twelve of his countrymen considers that he ought to have 
 foreseen. 
 
 5. ON DUELLING 
 
 The time-worn problem of the morality of duelling 
 need not detain us long.| Duelling is " a meeting of 
 two parties by private agreement to fight with weapons 
 in themselves deadly." % 
 
 The meeting must be by private agreement. A chance 
 encounter between two or more people is not a duel even 
 
 * If it is evident that the evil consequences were foreseen then a 
 man is held guilty of those consequences no matter whether they 
 were natural and immediate or not. See Pollock, " Law of Torts," 
 p. 40 (8th ed.). 
 
 t Being almost unknown at present in English-speaking countries 
 it is not to be regarded as of sufficient practical importance to necessi- 
 tate any kind of lengthy discussion in a work like the present. 
 
 J This excellent definition is taken from Fr. Rickaby. 
 
o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 hough, having met, formal arrangements are made about 
 he encounter. The two parties must meet to fight, and 
 )y agreement. 
 
 Their agreement must be private. A fight arranged 
 )etween representatives of different nations by public 
 Luthority would not be a duel proper. Such a fight 
 night be even regarded as a war in miniature. 
 
 The fight must be with weapons in themselves 
 ieadly, i.e. with weapons designed to kill. A pre- 
 irranged encounter with fists and " knuckle-dusters " 
 3r even with bludgeons would not be accounted a duel, 
 [t must be with swords or pistols or some other weapons, 
 the admitted function of which is to kill. 
 
 The evil of duelling is tivo-fold. First, a man directly 
 wills to kill another ; secondly, he wills directly to risk 
 his own life. On the first count, the immorality of 
 duelling should be obvious to all. The duellist desires 
 to kill his opponent. If he does not, if he determines, 
 e.g. to fire into the air, then the fight is not a duel but 
 the semblance of a duel, whereas the question now under 
 discussion is that of a genuine duel. And even if the 
 duel takes place in the dark, neither party seeing the 
 other, still the will of each is to kill the other. Else 
 why do they fire ? In a duel, therefore, the direct 
 intention is to kill. Nor can it be said that in the duel 
 each party is acting in self-defence against an unjust 
 aggressor. For, first, the attack is one that each con- 
 sents to, and, therefore, it is not of the nature of an 
 aggression, and particularly an unjust aggression (which 
 is always contrary to one's will) but rather of an invited 
 or at least authorised attack. Secondly, defence against 
 aggression allows the use of no more violence than what 
 is necessary to stop the aggression and save one's life. 
 To use more violence than this, is, as we saw, not mere 
 defence but an additional aggression. Now, both the 
 challenger to the duel, and he who accepts the challenge 
 can escape death without the use of violence of any 
 kind, the one by not challenging, the other by declining 
 
OUR DUTIES ic 
 
 the challenge. Duelling, therefore, is not to be inte 
 preted as a mere act of defence against unjust^ggressio; 
 Secondly, in the duel one risks directly his own lif 
 Now it will at once occur to the reader that it is m 
 always wrong to risk one's life. The acrobat and tl 
 Alpine climber risk their lives, admittedly without si 
 Why then should the risk run in the duel be regard( 
 as intrinsically wrong ? The answer is, first, in the du 
 we ourselves not only run the risk but also provide : 
 by authorising the attack which is made upon our live 
 Whatever guilt, therefore, is incurred by my oppone: 
 is incurred by me also, differences of course being allow( 
 for our respective positions. My opponent's act is oi 
 of attempted homicide. The authorising of such an a 
 is in the nature of attempted suicide,* for a man commi 
 suicide not only when he shoots himself but also whi 
 he induces or authorises another to shoot him. Secondt 
 an acrobat is supposed to render the risk remote. T 
 danger would be for other people not for him. I 
 acrobat by previous study and practice takes eve 
 means to render the risk remote, and he takes aU pi 
 cautions against what risk remains. If his performanc 
 are in mid air, he spreads a net to save him in case 
 fall. If he does not it is because he regards himsi 
 as sufficiently dexterous to dispense with the net.f 
 duelling, no precaution is taken, no coat of mail is woi 
 no attempt is made to render the risk remote. 
 may prepare and practice, but the risk can never 
 eliminated. If it were there would be no glory in t 
 duel. The glory and the profits attaching to the acroba 
 
 • This element of guilt is quite distinct from the sin ot co-operat 
 in another's sin, viz. murder, an element which also is present in 
 duel. 
 
 t If the danger were not rendered in some degree remote an acrol 
 would a;lso sin by exposing his life to danger. His position is qu 
 different from that of a soldier on the battlefield. The soldier wis! 
 to save his country. He does not directly will the risk. The acrol 
 directly wills the risk. Therefore, unless it can for him be m< 
 remote, whilst for other people it would be proximate, his act 
 sinful. 
 
io8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 feats arise out of the art whereby he has eliminated risk 
 from an act which to all other men would involve not 
 only danger of death but actual death ; the dueUist, 
 on the other hand, seeks to vindicate his honour by 
 submitting his life to danger and not guarding against 
 it. It is, therefore, supposed to be present and real. 
 
 Duelling, therefore, involves two evils, that of an 
 unjustifiable and unwarranted attack on the life of 
 another person, and that of submitting one's own life, 
 without just cause, to danger, a danger also which is 
 authorised and arranged by one's self. In both these 
 aspects duelling is intrinsically wrong, and being in- 
 trinsically wrong, it cannot be justified under any 
 circumstances. 
 
 And what we have said of duelling proper, which 
 essentially consists in the danger to life involved,' holds 
 true also of those lesser duels, or duels improperly so 
 called, where injury is caused, but where danger to life 
 itself is not involved. We speak here of those arranged 
 encounters (particularly amongst students) where deadly 
 weapons are used, but used under such restrictions that 
 death can scarcely occur. Such encounters are intrinsi- 
 cally wrong. For the same law that forbids the killing 
 of others, or of one's self, forbids also the doing of 
 grave bodily injury to another or to one's self, and the 
 aim of these encounters is the infliction of grave bodily 
 injury. 
 
 Note. — In these latter encounters there is often a want of 
 proportion between the offence and its effect. The offence 
 given is often of the most trivial kind. Indeed, these lighter 
 duels are a great mark of childishness in the nation that 
 encourages them. They are indications of a character that 
 cannot bear the slightest affront. How different from the 
 character of the magnanimous man ! 
 
 The motives of the duel are generally, on the part of the 
 challenger, satisfaction, and on the part of him who accepts, 
 the defence of his honour. Neither purpose suffices to justify 
 the duel, which, as we saw, is intrinsically wrong, so that 
 no purpose could justify it. Satisfaction seems to be 
 
OUR DUTIES i< 
 
 peculiarly inappropriate for serving as a defence of duellir 
 Satisfaction for an affront consists in an apology, or i 
 tractation, or amends of some kind. The man who accep 
 a duel makes no apology or amends. On the contrar 
 in addition to insulting you, he attempts to take your li: 
 and at your invitation. Again, the affront offered wou 
 be much more gravely atoned for if, instead of a duel, t 
 State were to take up one's case and declare the affro 
 an insult not only against the party directly affected b 
 against the whole of society. And such is the motive 
 public punishment. Punishment is inflicted on account 
 the element of private and public injury present in ea 
 crime. Therefore, even if duelling were of the nature 
 atonement or satisfaction (as we have seen it is not), it wou 
 atone for only part of the guilt attaching to insult, and th 
 the least part, viz. injury to one's self. The hard case 
 that of the man who is challenged to a duel. If he declin 
 he is dishonoured and perhaps loses his position and mea 
 of livelihood. However, such dishonour and loss are simp 
 to be accounted one of the penalties of goodness in an c 
 world. The duel is, as we have seen, intrinsically wror 
 and a man is no more entitled to accept the challenge to 
 duel in order to maintain his position, than he would 
 entitled to steal or to do some disgraceful act, were m 
 found savage enough to dishonour one for being good. 
 
 6. ON PERSONAL LIBERTY 
 
 We speak here of the restraint of personal or bod: 
 liberty only, such as incarceration, or tying up a mai 
 limbs, or holding him down. No private person c 
 deprive another of his personal liberty except unc 
 very special circumstances. To do so is to subject 
 man to yourself, to use him as means, whereas, as m< 
 men, as private persons, men are not to be regarded 
 means to one another,* as we have already prov( 
 The same law which gives a man a right to his life, a 
 to bodily integrity, gives him a right to freedom 
 bodily movement also. These are the privileges a 
 rights of personality. And, therefore, it is unlawful 
 restrain liberty. 
 
 * See p. 82. 
 
no THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The special circumstances above referred to, arise in 
 the actual commission of evil. We saw before * that a 
 man by doing evil withdraws himself from the order 
 of reason and thereby loses the privileges attaching to 
 rational nature. It is, therefore, in the competence of 
 the public authorities to punish crime with imprison- 
 ment, and it is in the competence even of any private 
 man to restrain any other that is attempting to do evil, 
 attempting, e.g. to kill another or himself. But such 
 restraint can only be checked momentarily. It would 
 not be lawful for a private individual to keep another 
 for a long time in custody, lest he might do evil. By 
 doing so we would also prevent the doing of good. Only 
 the public authority can restrain the liberty of another 
 for a protracted period and only for the commission of 
 crime. 
 
 On Injuries to Honour, Reputation and Friendship 
 
 Under this heading we have to consider three kinds 
 of injury (a) insult and contumely ; {b) detraction and 
 calumny ; (c) mischief making. These are all sins which 
 are effected by words, or by acts which have the force 
 of words. 
 
 (fl) Contumely means throwing a man's faults in his 
 face in order to detract from his dignity. Every person, 
 as a person, has a right to respect because of the dignity 
 attaching to human nature. To throw one's faults in 
 one's face is to violate one's dignity. Its aim is to pull 
 a man down both in his own estimation and in that of 
 others. 
 
 Contumely, however, is evil whether it takes place 
 in the presence of others or does not, for every man is 
 lowered by abuse whether others are listening or not. 
 The guilt of contumely is only increased when it takes 
 place in the presence of others. 
 
 * See p. 94. 
 
OUR DUTIES III 
 
 Contumely and insult proper suppose the presence 
 of the person affected. A man may suffer in ^reputation 
 but he suffers no indignity from abuse delivered in his 
 absence. 
 
 Essentially distinct from abuse and contumely is the 
 raking up of a man's faults to himself for purposes of 
 correction. Again, what is usually spoken of as bantering 
 is not to be confounded with contumely. For the aim 
 of bantering, even though it consists in raking up the 
 faults of another in his presence, is not to dishonour or 
 sadden, but rather to amuse, and as such it even belongs 
 to a special virtue.* But bantering may easily turn to 
 sin through want of care and feeling. " If," says St. 
 Thomas, " one shrinks not from aggrieving him at whom 
 he directs his wit, provided only he can raise a laugh — 
 that is vicious." 
 
 {b) Detraction. As contumely is directed to the 
 lowering of one's honour, so detraction aims at the 
 destruction of one's reputation. Reputation means the 
 good opinion which other people have of us. It is a 
 genuine human good, higher even than lands or money. 
 And just as it is wrong to steal a man's property so also 
 it is wrong to injure a person's reputation or good name. 
 
 Detraction takes place in the absence of the person 
 maligned. It requires the presence of other people. 
 Also it regards only those evils which are to some extent 
 private. When a crime has already become public 
 there is no reputation left to filch away. 
 
 Detraction is sinful whether the story narrated is true 
 or false.f For in both cases a man is deprived of the 
 favourable opinion of others, which is a true good, a 
 valued possession. It may be argued that when a man 
 commits a crime, and still retains a good reputation, he 
 is in possession of a " good " to which he has no right, 
 and that, therefore, there can be no injustice in depriving 
 him of his reputation. We answer — a man has a right 
 
 » Vol. I. p. 577- . , ^ , 
 
 t The second case xs spoken of as calumny. 
 
112 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to a good reputation as long as he can keep it, just as 
 he has a right to keep money as long as others are 
 willing to leave it with him. A person who possesses 
 money may be deprived of it in one case only, viz. where 
 the keeping of it involves injustice to some one else. 
 A good reputation involves no injustice to anybody, 
 and, therefore, as long as it is possessed a man may not 
 be deprived of it. 
 
 Analogous to detraction, or rather calumny, is the 
 sin of rash judgment — also a crime against justice. As 
 I may not create a wrong and unfavourable judgment in 
 the mind of another about any man, so I may not wilfully 
 set up or allow to be set up a wrong judgment in my own 
 mind, for a man's right to his reputation extends to the 
 good opinion of all. Given, however, good and solid 
 grounds it is each one's right to form his own judgment 
 about the character of his neighbour. 
 
 (c) Mischief -making is directed to the sundering of 
 friends. It consists in the narration of things which 
 are not necessarily bad taken in themselves, but which 
 are bad at least in the sense that they repel a friend. 
 It is a graver sin than detraction because it deprives 
 one of a good which is of greater worth than a good 
 name — a man's reputation is principally of value to 
 him as a means to friendship. It is also a graver sin 
 than contumely or dishonour because the friendship of 
 others is a greater possession than their mere respect.* 
 
 We now proceed to treat of problems of justice in 
 regard to material goods or property. 
 
 * St. Thomas also speaks of derision, in which a joke is made of 
 the defects of others, not to dishonour or malign them, but in order 
 to put them to the blush. It can become a very grave sin, particularly 
 when accompanied by contempt. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON PRIVATE OWNERSHIP AND ON 
 COMMUNISM 
 
 DEFINITION 
 
 By ownership is meant the permanent and exclusive 
 right of retaining, controUing, and disposing of an 
 object in one's own interest and according to one's own 
 wishes. From this definition it will be seen that owner- 
 ship is characterised by four things — the right of control, 
 of control in one's own interest, permanence of control, 
 and exclusiveness. The right to control, and to con- 
 trol in one's own interest we may regard as in a certain 
 sense the substance of ownership ; permanence and 
 exclusiveness are inseparable properties. 
 
 Ownership confers an unlimited right of control, a 
 right to dispose of an object in any way one pleases. 
 Where an owner's right of control and use is limited, 
 the limitations imposed on him are imposed not by 
 ownership itself, but by civil law or by some one of the 
 many moral virtues that affect and direct human action, 
 such as charity and friendship. For instance, a man 
 ought to support his wife and children, and some of his 
 property ought to be devoted to this purpose. But 
 ownership regarded in itself carries with it a full right 
 of control and use.* 
 
 Secondly, the right of control attaching to ownership 
 is exercisable in one's own interest. Trusteeship gives 
 a right of control, but in the interest of another only. 
 
 Thirdly, the control attaching to ownership is per- 
 manent. We do, indeed, speak of certain transitory 
 
 * In so far as control and use are possible. The natural qualities 
 of things are largely independent of human control. 
 
 VOL. 11 — 8 113 
 
ti4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 rights such as right for a year, or life interests as rights 
 of ownership. But ownership in its full and complete 
 sense is a right of permanent control — a right not limited 
 as to time.* 
 
 Ownership is also exclusive, i.e. it confers the right 
 to reserve property for one's own use, and to exclude 
 all others from its use. This is, indeed, the principal 
 attribute of ownership, the element most prominent in 
 the public consciousness in regard to ownership. It is 
 of course possible for two or three persons to own a 
 thing in common. In that case there is realty only one 
 owner, viz. the group of two or three, and their owner- 
 ship is exclusive of everybody else. A thing over which 
 everybody had equal rights could not be said to be 
 owned in any sense. 
 
 DIVISIONS OF OWNERSHIP 
 
 Ownership is distinguished into public and private, 
 according as a thing is owned, on the one hand, by the 
 community {i.e. the State or a municipality, or seme 
 other public body) or, on the other hand, by a private 
 individual or body of individuals. 
 
 Again, ownership is divided into perfect and imperfect 
 according as the owner has the right of disposal not 
 only of the thing itself in substance but also of its uses, 
 or possesses control of one of these alone. Where 
 control extends to the substance of the thing alone it 
 
 * It is important to remember that in the present work we shall 
 take no account of part-ownerships or mere " uses," for instance, 
 yearly tenures, rights of way, mortgages, " estates." These are all 
 of extreme importance in civil law ; but the consideration of them 
 would be out of place in our present discuss on, the aim of which is 
 merely to defend the existence of a right of private ownership. 
 
 Interesting attempts to save the conception of ownership as the 
 right of unlimited control, whils allowing for the detachment from 
 property of certain " uses," are sometimes attempted in legal treatises. 
 Markby, lor instance, defines an owner (" Elements of Law," p. 159) 
 as " a person whose rights over a thing are only limited by the rights 
 which have been detached from it." A somewhat similar definition 
 is given by Austin. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 115 
 
 is spoken of as direct, where to the uses or utilities of a 
 thing alone it is spoken of as indirect. , 
 
 As already explained we shall in our present work 
 take account of perfect or complete ownership only. 
 Also, as the heading to our chapter indicates, we are 
 concerned here with private ownership and not with 
 public, the reason being that private ownership is the 
 only kind that has ever been called in question by any 
 thinker or writer. Even the most uncompromising 
 communist will allow that if an object may not be 
 owned by private individuals at least it may be owned 
 by the public at large. What we are concerned to 
 show in the present chapter is that property may be 
 owned by individuals also. Our thesis is that private 
 ownership is a requirement of natural law. 
 
 Our discussion on this subject will consist of two parts. 
 We must first explain the reason why private ownership 
 as a system is necessary, why private ownership exists 
 and is required at all : secondly, we must show how 
 private ownership arises in f articular cases or the various 
 ways in which men come to be legitimately possessed of 
 property. The first is a discussion on the grounds of 
 private ownership, the second concerns the titles of 
 private ownership. 
 
 The Grounds of Private Ownership 
 
 As already explained, we are concerned in the first 
 part of this chapter with the reasons of private owner- 
 ship as a system. We are to show, not how a or b comes 
 to be possessed of his property, but why the system of 
 private property exists at all.* Now before giving the 
 reasons or grounds of private property as a system, it 
 will be necessary to make a few preliminary remarks on 
 the exact scope of the question under discussion. 
 
 * The titles by which individual men become owners of property 
 are sometimes spoken of as the proximate grounds of property, the 
 reasons which justify the system of private ownership (referred to 
 here as the grounds of property) being the remote grounds. 
 
Ii6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 In the first place we are not here concerned with the 
 special question of the right of private ownership in 
 land, machinery, warehouses, mines, steamboats, or any 
 other of those things usually referred to as sources of 
 wealth, or capital. The question of capital or the sources 
 of wealth will be discussed in some later chapters of 
 this volume. At present we are concerned with the 
 simple, and most general question whether there exists 
 a right of private ownership in regard to any kind of 
 wealth. In other words, our discussion in the present 
 chapter is with the communists who deny to individuals 
 the right of appropriating any kind of property whatso- 
 ever, not with the socialists whose strictures in regard 
 to property are confined to capital or the sources of 
 wealth alone, which, they say, should be owned only by 
 the community as a whole, but who allow a right of 
 private property in other things such as wheat, clothing, 
 one's own house and furniture — everything, in fact, 
 which is not productive of further wealth. The theory 
 of communism has, indeed, few adherents now-a-days, 
 for which reason it need not take up so much of our 
 attention as socialism — a question of very great and 
 universal interest. Nevertheless communism attacks a 
 more fundamental right than socialism since it dis- 
 allows mens' right to own any kind of property whatso- 
 ever ; and, therefore, it will be necessary before treating 
 of socialism to examine the communist position and to 
 establish the right of private, ownership in regard to 
 property taken generally. 
 
 Secondly, the only kind of ownership that is here 
 considered is ownership in regard to stable, permanent, 
 or lasting property, i.e. the gathering together of wealth 
 in the form of money or houses or commodities as 
 security against the uncertain future. For even the 
 most extreme communist will admit that a man may 
 own the food he is going to eat, the clothes on his back 
 and any thing else that is required for immediate use. 
 What communists will not allow is the accumulation 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 117 
 
 of " riches " in large measure or small, or what we have 
 called stable property. • 
 
 Thirdly, though we defend the right of private owner- 
 ship, we admit the right of public ownership also. In 
 every civilised country the State as well as the private 
 individual has its lands, houses, and other kinds of 
 property. Our only contention here is that private 
 property is necessary. How far State ownership should 
 be allowed to encroach on the system of private owner- 
 ship is a question which we shall be in a better position 
 to consider when treating of socialism.* 
 
 Fourthly, and to this preliminary observation we 
 invite the reader's earnest attention, in claiming that 
 private ownership is of natural law, we do not contend 
 that nature has herself made distribution of her goods, 
 assigning one part to one individual, another to another. 
 On the contrary, were it not for the intervention of 
 human reason, the goods of nature would have remained 
 always common — negatively common, in the sense that 
 they would never be taken into private hands and used 
 as private property. But though nature herself makes 
 no particular distribution of her goods her clear intention 
 is that her stores of wealth should be utilised, and 
 utilised also to the best advantage, for which end it is 
 necessary that they should be taken into private hands 
 and used, as we shall presently proceed to show, as 
 private property. All this St. Thomas clearly explains 
 when he saji's " community of goods is set down, as a 
 part of the natural law, not as though it were a dictate of 
 natural law that things should be possessed in common, 
 and that there should be no private property, but be- 
 cause the marking off of separate possessions is not done 
 by nature herself but rather according to human con- 
 vention." The theory which we here oppose is the 
 theory that the goods of nature are positively common, 
 viz. that there is a dictate of nature and natural reason 
 
 * See p. 27^. 
 
Ii8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 enjoining common ownership and forbidding private 
 ownership. This is the chief tenet of the communists. 
 
 Lastly, when we say that private property is necessary 
 we do not mean that it is so indispensable that under 
 no conditions could common ownership be set up amongst 
 men, or that without private property the race should 
 forthwith disappear. Without private property a small 
 group of savages, for instance, might get on very well — 
 for savages. Without private property, again, a small 
 group of very perfect men not given to laziness, or jealousy, 
 or unfriendliness, or contentiousness, or subject to any 
 of the weaknesses of human nature, might attain even 
 to a very high degree of human excellence. Our present 
 contention is that for a large community like a State, 
 and particularly a State made up of actual men, men as 
 we know them, in whom good and evil will always be 
 mingled together, private property is necessary, so that 
 without it welfare and development are impossible. 
 
 These preliminary explanations being made we are 
 now in a position to establish our fundamental thesis 
 on the right of private property, which is as follows : — * 
 
 Private ownership is a requirement of natural law, 
 and the entire prohibition of private ownership is un- 
 justifiable in natural law. 
 
 We shall here attempt to establish the necessity of 
 private ownership first, in connection with the individual 
 interest ; secondly, with that of the family ; thirdly, 
 with the well-being of the race. 
 
 [a] THE INDIVIDUAL INTEREST 
 
 (i) The individual is naturally prior to the com- 
 munity and to the State — prior logically, since individuals 
 
 * We are here dealing with a right that is almost axiomatic and 
 self-evident, a right that is hardly disputed by any person. This 
 general acceptance fortunately relieves us from the necessity of such 
 a detailed and lengthy argument as is required to establish the right 
 of private capital, our discussion in regard to which extends to several 
 chapters of the present volume. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 119 
 
 are the elements which constitute society, and prior 
 historically, since individuals precede the State in time. 
 Now, long before the State came into being, individual 
 men had by their labour acquired property of various 
 kinds. It was their right to do so there being no law 
 to prevent them, and it was necessary to do so, first, 
 for their own protection, and secondly, in the interest 
 of the world at large : for if men could not own the 
 things they produced nothing would be produced. The 
 system of private ownership was, therefore, fully estab- 
 lished before the State came into being, and consequently 
 the State has no right to abolish it under any circum- 
 stances. It also preceded all possible forms of common 
 ownership and, therefore, it is more in accordance with 
 nature's design than common ownership. The system 
 of private ownership is as primary and fundamental in 
 the economical life of man, as the individual is in his 
 social life. 
 
 (2) The prohibition of private property is a grave 
 injustice to the individual since it opposes the most 
 fundamental rights of the individual ; (a) his right to 
 individual development ; (/8) his right to happiness ; 
 (7) his right to the products of his own labour. 
 
 (a) Development consists in the fullest exercise of a 
 man's capacities and faculties about their best objects. 
 And since the individual has received his capacities from 
 nature he has a full right to their free and fullest exer- 
 cise. Now private property is an essential condition 
 of the full and perfect use of our individual capacities, 
 and, therefore, of development. If no man may possess 
 property as his own, such as land, or houses, or a business, 
 or at least the money that he earns by his work, there is 
 nothing to induce him to exercise his capacities in regard 
 to external things. On the contrary, by forbidding 
 private property, the State sets up the most effective 
 of all prohibitions against their exercise. But let a 
 right of private property be granted, and at once the 
 faculties of man, physical and mental, awaken into life, 
 
120 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and their complete and perfect exercise is not only 
 rendered possible but favoured and ensured. A general 
 system of private property is as necessary to the exercise 
 of the individual faculties and to individual development 
 as air is to life, and, therefore, to abolish and prohibit 
 the system of private possessions would be in effect to 
 hinder and suppress individual development. " Man," 
 says Rousseau, " is born free but is everywhere in 
 chains." This he regards as chiefly attributable to 
 private property. As a matter of fact it is the forbidding 
 of private property that forms the most effective of all 
 weapons for repressing human development and human 
 freedom. 
 
 (j8) Private property is necessary for the happiness 
 and welfare of the individual. There are men who are 
 capable of a certain amount of happiness though 
 possessed of nothing but the coat on their backs and 
 food sufficient for the day. But then there are men 
 whom not even the loss of an eye or a limb would render 
 unhappy ; but surely eyes and limbs are normally 
 necessary for individual happiness and welfare. In 
 general, however, it cannot be denied that external 
 possessions are an important source of happiness to 
 the individual man, and, therefore, the absence of 
 external possessions must represent a corresponding 
 and proportionate privation. 
 
 But a law prescribing the total abolition of private 
 property would be more than a privation. It would be 
 the cause of immense positive misery to every personi* 
 To feel that one is gifted by nature with capacities for 
 creating and amassing wealth without injury to others, 
 and yet to be prevented by public law from doing so, 
 would be a source of the deepest vexation and morti- 
 fication to any ordinary man. To know that one has 
 within him powers more than sufficient to render him 
 independent of others, and yet to be compelled to eat 
 
 * Even to those who in the absence of such prohibition do not 
 |eel the want of property. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 121 
 
 at the public tables, and to depend on the State for 
 every necessary of life, would in most men aRvaken the 
 keenest resentment and irritation. And this feeling of 
 dependence on the good will of others must grow mor£ 
 acute and oppressive as old age approaches, when 
 labour becomes impossible, and no other security against 
 negject and poverty is possible except the security of a 
 store of wealth. The thought of an old age entirely 
 dependent on the charity or the good will of others 
 would, to most men, be a source of grave anxiety all 
 through their lives. For these reasons it is obvious 
 that the abolition of private property is opposed to the 
 happiness and welfare of the individual man. 
 
 (■y) But our chief argument concerns the right of a 
 man to the products of his own energies and labour. 
 The individual has from nature an unquestioned right 
 of property in his own person, his own powers and 
 energies. And having a right of property in his own 
 energies he has also a right of property in the products 
 of those energies, since the products of a man's energies 
 are nothing more than his energies transformed. But 
 the products of our energies for' the most part consist 
 of external goods and, therefore, the individual has a 
 right of property in external goods. 
 
 We go farther and c^aim that since the present wealth 
 of the world is almost wholly a result of human labour, 
 mental and physical, by natural law the greater part of 
 the wealth of the world should lie in private individual 
 hands, all labour being essentially the labour of individual 
 men. " There were plants of corn and wine in small 
 quantity," writes Hobbes, " dispersed in the fields and 
 woods before man . . . planted them apart in fields 
 and vineyards." But it is human labour that has 
 produced out of these few plants provided by nature 
 the present teeming harvests of the world. Individuals 
 have, therefore, a right of private property to most of 
 the wealth of the world. 
 
 It may be said, however, that the State has a right 
 
122 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to interfere with the individual interest where that 
 interest is supposed to be in conflict with the interest 
 of the family and the race. In the following sections 
 .we go on to show that private property is even more 
 necessary in the interest of the family and the race 
 than in that of the individual. 
 
 (6) THE FAMILY WELFARE 
 
 Our proof that private property is necessary in the 
 family interest is two-fold. First, we shall show that 
 men have not only a right but a duty to provide for their 
 families, and that this can only be done by the acquiring 
 of private property. Secondly, in a country in which 
 private property is forbidden, the family is in grave 
 danger of losing its independence and of being inter- 
 fered with in its most sacred relations by the public 
 authorities, to its own grave detriment and that of the 
 race. 
 
 The family is nature's means for the existence and 
 maintenance of the individual life. It is the first society 
 known to nature. It existed even before the State. 
 Nature's chief interest, therefore, in regard to human 
 well-being is centred in the family, the source and 
 sustainer of human life. In the eyes of nature the 
 interest of the family is paramount, it is an absolute 
 requirement of the law of nature. That private property 
 is necessary in that interest, more clearly even than in 
 the interest of the individual or of society at large, we 
 now proceed to prove. 
 
 (i) The man who summons children into the world 
 assumes responsibility for feeding and educating those 
 children. And because he has summoned them into 
 life they have a right to look to him for all that is re- 
 quired for their development and perfection. Friends 
 may offer to take over a father's responsibility. The State 
 may offer to assume the duty of support. But the only 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 123 
 
 responsibility which nature recognises and on which it 
 counts is that of the parent of the child. Even, there- 
 fore, if others undertake the care of his children, and 
 even though in some extreme cases a father might be 
 justified in allowing his children out of his hands, never- 
 theless a father's responsibility never ceases. He must 
 be there if others fail to do what they have undertaken. 
 He must be there even if they do not fail, since at any 
 time the child is free to insist on its right to be reared, 
 taught, supported, directed, tended by those from whom 
 it has received its life. 
 
 This responsibility which nature imposes upon the 
 father gives him the right as well as imposes the duty of 
 gathering together a store of wealth, and gives him the 
 right of property in that wealth. It is the chief con- 
 dition of the future security and well-being of his children. 
 Nor is there any limit in nature to the amount of pro- 
 perty which a man may accumulate. For, in the first 
 place, nature considers the possibility not of a few 
 children only, but of many, so that a man may reach 
 the fullness of years before the last child has been fully 
 and finally provided for, a fact which entitles one to go 
 on amassing property all one's life. Also, the childreiv 
 whom he summons into the world will themselves in 
 the natural course of events found families, and the 
 father has a right to put them into a secure position for 
 beginning their married life. In this matter the needs 
 of children are quite indefinite and, indeed, unlimited, 
 and, therefore, a father may go on storing wealth to 
 the end of his life and to any amount that he desires.* 
 It will be said, indeed, that many men do not marry, 
 or that a man may have no children. But these are 
 accidents and not intended by nature. Every man is 
 potentialty the head of a family and, therefore, he is 
 equipped by nature with a radical right to property ; 
 
 * We must not lose sight also of the fact that a man may store 
 possessions for himself and his wife against old age, as was explained 
 in the Igst section. 
 
124 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and in accordance with this radical right he may accumu- 
 late property before his marriage, and whether he 
 Hiarries or not, and whether he has children or not. 
 And since in the intentions of nature the family is of 
 continuous growth and unending, so nature guarantees 
 to each individual peaceful and lawful possession 
 and enjoyment of his property for ever. 
 
 Property, therefore, is a fundamental necessity of 
 the family and attaches to the very idea of family life. 
 
 But if property is necessary for the existence and 
 ordinary well-being of the family, a fortiori, it is necessary 
 for the better and more developed family life, the life 
 that will allow of progress in trades, in studies, in art, 
 in all that makes for human refinement. And if it is 
 necessary for the family under normal conditions of 
 health and well-being, so also it is necessary as a safe- 
 guard against sickness, against the untimely death of 
 parents, and as a remedy for the various ills to which 
 human life is subject. This is not, indeed, the primary 
 purpose of property. But it is a secondary end of very 
 great importance. Its primary end is the promotion 
 of the family welfare under normal conditions of health 
 and well-being. 
 
 (2) But a much graver danger to the family life than 
 the economic loss it will be compelled to sustain in the 
 absence of private property has now to be considered. 
 In a system where private property cannot be owned it 
 is impossible that men should be allowed freely to choose 
 their partners in life,* or that marriage should be re- 
 garded in any other way than as a union terminable 
 at the will of the State. Also under communism the 
 dimensions of the family will of necessity be regarded 
 as falling under State control, and in this way its 
 existence and the existence of the race will be gravely 
 imperilled. Let us briefly consider these two dangers 
 to the family life in the communistic State. 
 
 ♦ Plato, " Republic," V. ^60, 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 125 
 
 Aristotle had no illusions about certain possible 
 higher forms of communism which while nationalising 
 riches, would leave the family intact. He knew well 
 that in a system where property was common, persons 
 would be common also. To Aristotle, therefore, Plato's 
 advocacy of the common family as a feature of the 
 best State was no mere accidental addition, it was an 
 essential portion of the theory of communism. If a 
 man may not own money or a store of goods as his own 
 he certainly will not be allowed to choose a wife of his 
 own. Neither will he be allowed to make the wife which 
 the State allots him his own for ever, or for any period 
 longer than accords with the purposes of the State. 
 And if he cannot make his own of the products of his 
 own labour, neither will he be given the ownership of 
 the children which he brings into the world. If property 
 is common, children will be common also. " Under 
 communism," says Aristotle, " each one will have a 
 thousand sons who will not be his sons individually but 
 anybody's, and will be neglected by all alike." In a 
 word, communism will mean the end of the family life. 
 
 The same conclusion is forced upon us if we consider 
 the duty of the State under communism to provide for 
 the citizens. Under communism the State will be the 
 universal provider, and its duty is to provide the means 
 of subsistence for every child that is brought into 
 existence. In other words the State will be under an 
 obligation to provide for each family according to the 
 number of children in it. This being so, since he who 
 pays the piper has the right to call the tune, the State 
 will eventually see to it that it will be consulted in 
 regard to every condition of the family life and particu- 
 larly in regard to the dimensions of the family. Thus 
 by placing limitations on the number of children to 
 be brought into the world with a right of support from 
 the State, the State will so restrain the free expansion 
 of the family as to imperil its existence and the con- 
 tinuance of the race. This argument is developed later 
 
126 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 in our present work in connection with socialism where 
 only the sources ot wealth are to be nationalised. It 
 holds in a far greater degree in a system in which the 
 State must provide and dispense not only the capital of 
 the country, but also every other kind of possession 
 required by its citizens. 
 
 Private property is, therefore, a natural necessity of 
 the family ; it is necessary both economically and 
 morally, and its necessity for the family, even if it were 
 not required for the individual and for society, would, 
 of itself, be proof that private property is from nature, 
 i.e. is a requirement of natural law. 
 
 (c) THE GENERAL INTEREST 
 
 We have seen that private ownership is necessary 
 for the welfare of the individual and of the family. 
 We now go on to show that it is necessary also in the 
 interests of society at large. Three arguments are 
 adduced by St. Thomas Aquinas,* all based upon the 
 social welfare, in proof of the necessity of private property. 
 They are as follows : (i) private property is necessary 
 as an incentive to labour and as a condition of intensive 
 production ; (2) without it, economic order and organisa- 
 tion are impossible ; (3) property is necessary in the 
 interests of peace and a good moral life. 
 
 (i) " Every one," writes St. Thomas, " is more careful 
 to look after what is his own private concern than after 
 what is common to all or. many, since every one avoids 
 labour and leaves to another to do the duty that belongs 
 to a number of persons in common, as happens where 
 there are many persons to wait on you." (2) " Human 
 affairs," he writes again, " are handled in a m.ore orderly 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. II»=., LXVI. 2. It is because the principal 
 ground of property is its necessity for the family welfare that it is 
 discussed by Aristotle in his chapters on the family and the house- 
 hold (" Politics," II.) ; St. Thomas lays stress rather on the necessity 
 of property in the public interest. 
 
 Two of St. Thomas' arguments given above, namely, the first 
 and third, are taken from Aristotle. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 127 
 
 fashion where every indix'idual has his own care of some- 
 thing to look to : whereas there would be confusion if 
 every one indiscriminately took the management of 
 anything he pleased." (3) "A peaceful state of society 
 is better ensured (under the system of private property) 
 every one being content with his own lot. Hence we 
 see that disputes arise not uncommonly among those 
 who have any possession in joint stock." 
 
 Let us consider each of these arguments very briefly. 
 
 (i) The first is based on the necessity of incentives 
 for human labour. For its economic well-being society 
 depends primarily on the production of wealth, Now, 
 wealth is not provided ready-made by nature. In 
 nature there are the potencies of wealth only. These 
 potencies have to be turned mto actual riches by the 
 exercise of labour, i.e. of human energy, mental and 
 physical. Without labour, for instance, the soil of the 
 earth would be comparatively barren. Without labour 
 and particularly mental labour many of the most 
 precious possessions of man would be entirely non- 
 existent. Labour not only reduces the potencies of nature 
 to act, but also increases these potencies a hundred- 
 fold. In fact, with the exception of a mere fraction of our 
 present wealth, the riches of the world are entirelj' a 
 result of human labour.* Then again, when labour has 
 brought wealth into being, this wealth has to be brought 
 to the doors of men. There would be little use in pro- 
 ducing cotton, e.g. in great abundance in one country 
 if it would not be conveyed to others, and worked up 
 there into fabric, made into clothes, and exhibited in 
 the shop-windows close to our homes. All this means 
 labour, mental and physical, labour engrossing and un- 
 ceasing, labour that taxes the capacities of men to their 
 utmost. The wealth and well-being of the world, 
 therefore, depend on human labour. 
 
 St. Thomas' argument is that, under the crude form 
 of communism which he considers, where, namely, 
 
 * i.e labour in its broad sense — ^not mere manual labour. 
 
128 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 everything is owned by everybody and each man has a 
 right to reap the fruits that another has sown, the 
 individual will have no inducement to put his best 
 energies into his work, and so the wealth of the world 
 must necessarily diminish. But the same holds true 
 of that system of organised communism not considered 
 by St. Thomas in which the State appoints and de- 
 termines the work to be done by each man, putting one 
 man in charge of a certain tract of land, another in 
 charge of a warehouse, another to work in quarry or 
 mine, and then ensuring that the fruits of their work 
 should be sent into the common Treasury to be dis- 
 tributed from that amongst the people at large. A man 
 does not work for labour's sake but for the fruits that 
 result from labour ; and since under this system the 
 fruits of labour go, not to the labourer, but to the com- 
 munity, it follows that men will have very little interest 
 in their work and will not bestow their best energies 
 upon it. Wealth, therefore, will not be produced on 
 the same large scale as under the system of private 
 ownership, and so the communist State will remain 
 comparatively poor and unprogressive. 
 
 (2) Having shown that private property is necessary 
 for the production of wealth in abundance St. Thomas 
 next goes on to prove that private property is more 
 conducive than communism to economic order. Under 
 the system of private property the use and administra- 
 tion of each piece of property, be it land, or a factory, 
 or a warehouse, falls automatically to a definite person, 
 i.e. the owner. He alone has the right to use or ad- 
 minister his property. Thus, though under the system 
 of private ownership there may be conflict of interests 
 between one person and another, there can be no con- 
 flict of function. Each man knows definitely what he 
 has to do and he does it without interference from 
 others. Again, there is no difficulty as to the owner- 
 ship of the fruits. The fruits deiived from property 
 go to the owner of the property and to him alone. Thus 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 129 
 
 under this system of private ownership, the simplest 
 that could possibly be devised, the great complex machine 
 of the world's commerce keeps ever moving, turning out 
 wealth in fabulous amounts and distributing each part 
 of that wealth to its proper owner without friction or 
 confusion or difficulty of any kind. 
 
 A system in which all things are owned in common 
 will necessarily lead to effects the opposite of this. It 
 must lead to unending confusion both as regards the 
 functions to be performed by each and the rights of 
 each in regard to the fruits. Of course it is possible 
 for the State to remedy this confusion in some measure 
 by appointing individuals to do each a definite portion 
 of the national work, and by distributing the wealth of 
 the State according to some definite principle amongst 
 individual families. But this could only be done on a 
 very small scale by the State. How could the State 
 undertake the distribution of all the wealth of the 
 country amongst the inhabitants, e.g. the chairs, the 
 tables, the pictures, the houses ; and how could it 
 appoint functionaries to administer the ten or twelve 
 millions of places filled by the workers of Great Britain 
 to-day. At most it could appoint the highest and most 
 general functionaries, and outside of their work all 
 would be confusion as we have said. 
 
 Besides, anything that the State might do in this 
 connection would necessarily be of its nature curative 
 or remedial, a purely artificial device invented for the 
 purpose of allaying the disorder that always results 
 from interfering with nature's plans and purposes, 
 and the very necessity for finding such a remedy is 
 of itself a proof that communism is a departure from 
 nature and the natural requirements in regard to 
 property. From the beginning men have been working 
 according to the system of private property. From the 
 beginning men were provided by nature with faculties 
 for utilising and opportunities for appropriating the 
 goods of nature. And they have used their faculties 
 vol.. :i — 9 
 
I30 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and opportunities, and have already appropriated much 
 of the wealth that lies around one invitingly everywhere. 
 Under this system of private ownership, as we said, 
 there could be no confusion or disorder. It is the 
 simplest and most direct system possible for utiHsing 
 wealth, and fulfilling nature's injunction to get the 
 best out of the natural sources. If, now that this 
 system has been established, with nature's recognition 
 and consent (and it must be remembered that even 
 now the sj^stem of private ownership is simpler than any 
 other) the State were to interfere, and, for purposes of 
 its own, however laudable, were to throw all things into 
 the melting pot, negativing all existent titles, then, 
 even though society might devise remedies to patch 
 up the resulting confusion, her devices would be of 
 their nature, not original, but remedial, and consequently 
 we could no more speak of the programme of the 
 nationalisation of all wealth as natural, than we could 
 speak of surgical operations as a design of nature, simply 
 because medicines and apparatus can be devised to 
 remedy the evils which operations entail. A system 
 that promotes disorder cannot, we venture to submit, 
 be regarded as commanded by natural law, even though 
 the disorder which is created is capable of being remedied 
 by some device of human reason. 
 
 In general, then, we think that the proposition, so 
 simply put forward by St. Thomas Aquinas, that under 
 communism things are not handled in "so orderly a 
 fashion " as under the system of individual ownership, 
 is borne out by reason and experience ; and, therefore, 
 we claim, it is the system of private and not of common 
 ownership that best meets the requirements of nature 
 in regard to society. 1 
 
 (3) In his third argument St. Thomas emphasises a 
 difficulty in the way of the communistic State which 
 has already been hinted at in our development of the 
 second argument. Under the system of private owner- 
 ship each man is content with his own lot, not in the 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 131 
 
 sense that he may not wish, for more than he has, or 
 that he may not have much to complain of in Ms fellows, 
 but in the sense that under the present system a man is 
 allowed to determine his own career, that having worked 
 and received the value of his labour, he may save his 
 money, build up a fortune, and follow any avocation 
 that he likes. At present success or failure in life 
 depends at least very largely on a man himself. Under 
 the system of common ownership a man's circumstances 
 and position depend wholly on society. For, first, what 
 he receives for his work depends upon society. He 
 will eat and clothe himself not out of his own money 
 but out of the common stock and only to the extent to 
 which government allows. Secondly, his position in 
 life is determined by government. Also, though having 
 a right of equal treatment with all other men he will, 
 nevertheless, be treated most unequally. For, under 
 communism, whereas all are supposed to have equal 
 rights to positions and to be equal owners of the national 
 property, it will be impossible to give equal treatment 
 to all. The work of the miner will have to be performed 
 as well as that of the clerk, the doctor, the engineer, 
 the traveller, and the diplomat. The precious and more 
 valuable things amongst all the articles owned by the 
 State will, if they are to be used at all, have to be 
 assigned to some in particular and not to others. They 
 cannot be given to all. In general terms, therefore, 
 under the system of private property, man's lot is 
 largely dependent on himself, and there is no man who, 
 if he has ability and is willing to exercise it, may not 
 do much to better his position in the world. Under 
 communism a man's lot is not determined by himself 
 in any way. Under that -system the individual is only 
 a pawn in the hands of the State, with no right of 
 direction over his own movements. In the communistic 
 State, therefore, every failure and misfortune occurring 
 in the community will be charged up to the govern- 
 ment, and the public spirit will be one of universal un- 
 
132 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 rest and discontent. In proportion as any man is the 
 maker of his own way and of his own fortune he is con- 
 tent with the position in which his own actions place 
 him. In proportion as his position and fortune are 
 determined for him by others his tendency is to be 
 restive and rebellious. Under the communistic system 
 a man's right of freedom and self-direction is wholly 
 ignored. His life from beginning to end is determined 
 and controlled by arbitrary decree on the part of the 
 public authorities. 
 
 It may be objected that there are inequalities also 
 in our present system. But it is to be remembered 
 that whatever inequality attaches to our present system 
 attaches to a system based admittedly on a theory of 
 inequality in talent, energy, and luck, three undeniable 
 facts of human life. On the other hand the inequalities 
 of the communistic State are inequalities accompanying 
 a system specially designed for the removal of in- 
 equalities, a system under which men are induced to 
 give up all right of personal initiative and of freedom 
 and to place themselves unreservedly in the hands of 
 the State, in order to receive equal treatment with all 
 others. We claim that while comparative peace and 
 contentment are possible under our present system, with 
 some exercise of good will all round, they are un- 
 imaginable under communism. 
 
 These are St. Thomas' three arguments in favour of 
 private property and in disproof of communism, based 
 upon the conception of public utility and the peace of 
 society.* 
 
 * Aristotle adduces two other arguments. One is the argument 
 (Pol. II. 5, 9) that private property affords opportunities for the 
 exercise of such virtues as temperance in abstaining from other people's 
 goods, and liberality in dispensing one's own. "The second argument 
 is political in character — under communism it would be difficult to 
 determine the kind of government involved. Both arguments it 
 seems to us are based on considerations which are accidental and 
 extrinsic tP property, 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 133 
 
 THE SCOPE OF OWNERSHIP, OR THE DUTIES ATTACHED 
 TO OWNERSHIP * 
 
 We have already stated that ownership* entitles a 
 man to use his property in any way he wishes. Now 
 when we say that a man may do what he likes with his 
 property our meaning is that he may do so in. so far as 
 mere justice is concerned. But a man may have obliga- 
 tions in charity or friendship or liberality as well as in 
 justice, and these obligations often place serious limita- 
 tions upon our freedom in regard to property, sometimes 
 binding us positively to share our possessions with 
 others, sometimes negatively — not to use our property 
 to the detriment of others. Again, the rights of owner- 
 ship may be limited by obligations even in justice, 
 resulting from the conditions under which ownership is 
 held, and these conditions may, and, as we shall presently 
 see, do hold not only for some but for all kinds of pro- 
 perty. In this way we find that the rights attaching 
 to property, thotigh always extensive, and important, 
 and though in the abstract, that is, considering the 
 effects of ownership only, they are unlimited, neverthe- 
 less, actually they are limited by many and grave 
 responsibilities, and are, therefore, far from being of 
 that absolute character which many people are wont to 
 connect with the idea of ownership. 
 
 In three principal ways* a man may find his liberty 
 to use his property in any way he pleases limited and 
 conditioned by natural law. In the first place a man 
 is bound in charity and friendship to be open-handed, 
 neighbourly, and generous with others, particularly with 
 the poor, and to lend or give in reason, acco];-ding to 
 their requirements. A man should not shut the whole 
 world out from his property as if the world had no 
 
 * We are here enumerating natural responsibilities only. The 
 civil law also attaches special obligations to property such as the 
 obligation of paying taxes, of keeping property in repair. These 
 obligations are often very numerous and irksome, but the State has a 
 right to impose them for the sake of the common good. We have 
 nothing, however, to do with such obligations here. 
 
134 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 claim upon him, and as if he were under no indebtedness 
 to the world. Every man is bound to love his neighbour, 
 and the test as well as the natural result of our love of 
 others is the sharing of our goods with them. Also, even 
 though a man acquires property by his own exertions, 
 his exertions and his attainments can never be so much 
 his own as to render him independent of the rest of 
 the world. In every act that we do there is some degree 
 of indebtedness to the labours and the genius of others, 
 either in the information they help us to bring to our 
 work, or the instruments they make it possible for us 
 to use to attain our end. 
 
 This duty of openhandedness and neighbourliness in 
 sharing our goods with others is expressed very vigorously 
 both by St. Thomas * and Aristotle f when they say 
 that though property may be owned and administered 
 by private persons, the use of it ought to be common, 
 not in the sense that other men have the same rights as 
 ourselves, but that owners should be liberal and con- 
 siderate to others in their needs. " Among the good," 
 writes Aristotle, " and in respect of use, friends, as the 
 proverb says, will have all things common. . . . For, 
 although every man has his own property, some things he 
 will place at the disposal of his friends, while of others 
 he shares the use with them. The Lacedaemonians, 
 for example, use one anothers' slaves and horses and 
 dogs, as if they were their own, and when they happen 
 to be in the country, they appropriate in the fields 
 whatever provisions they want. It is clearly better 
 that property should be private, and the use of it (in 
 the sense just explained) common ; and the special 
 business of the legislator is to create in men this benevo- 
 lent disposition." 
 
 Secondly, a man is under an obligation in charity not 
 to use his property in such ways as will prove detri- 
 mental to the public interest cr to a large section of 
 
 * " S. Theol.," II. 11==., LXVI. 2. 
 t " Politics," Book II. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 135 
 
 the people. A landowner should not depopulate a 
 countryside simply in order to extend his, parks and 
 hunting grounds, unless, indeed, the people can be as 
 easily accommodated and as easily find employment 
 elsewhere. In the use of our property we are bound to 
 have regard to the public interest. 
 
 Thirdly, an owner is bound in justice to come to the 
 aid of those in absolute distress. To a starving man he 
 must give food. If the community were in absolute 
 distress he might be bound in justice to give even a 
 large part of his possessions, always, however, provided 
 that his own family is not reduced to want thereby. A 
 man's first duty is to his wife and children. 
 
 The exposition of the reasons on which this last instance 
 of the responsibilities of property is based introduces 
 us to a very interesting problem of ownership which 
 we shall here briefly explain, even though, in treating 
 of it, it is necessary to anticipate something that belongs 
 more properly to a later portion of this chapter. How 
 can it come to pass that a man is ever, in justice bound 
 to come to the aid of others by giving to them what is 
 his own ? That a man may be bound in charity to 
 help others is easily intelligible. But ownership confers 
 a right of absolute disposal over one's property, so that 
 in justice property belongs to the owner alone. How 
 then may another be said to have a right in justice to our 
 property under any circumstances ? Our answer is that 
 nothing that is owned is produced wholly by ourselves. 
 We do not produce the materials of which a thing is 
 made.' Even if we have bought it from others there is 
 always something in the object which others have not 
 produced, which was the work of nature from the 
 beginning. In other words, as we shall show later in 
 the present chapter, all ownership begins in occupancy, 
 in appropriating something to which we have no title 
 or claim, and which we are allowed by nature to appro- 
 priate simply because without appropriation objects 
 would never be taken into anybody's possession, and 
 
136 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the resources of nature would remain unused. Now a 
 necessary natural condition of all occupancy is that 
 what is " occupied " should not itself be necessary for 
 the community. If it is necessary for the community 
 it naturally belongs to the community, and no man 
 has the right to appropriate it. And this condition 
 which governs every act of occupancy in the beginning 
 continues to attach to the thing which is owned as long 
 as it remains, and no matter into how many hands it 
 subsequently passes. Let an object at any time during 
 the period of ownership become absolutely necessary 
 for the community, or for any part of the community, 
 necessary, that is, to save the community or part of 
 it from extinction, and that which we found to be an 
 essential condition of occupancy in the beginning, 
 becomes operative once more and confers upon those 
 in absolute distress a right in justice to that which is 
 necessary for their relief. 
 
 The Natural Titles of Ownership * 
 
 Having assigned the chief grounds or reasons of the 
 system of private ownership, we now proceed to enumerate 
 the principal natural titles of ownership, that is, the facts 
 or events by which particular owners come naturally to 
 have a right to own their property and to exclude all 
 others | from the use of it. These titles are necessary, 
 
 * Salmond (" Jurisprudence ") and Mackenzie (" Roman Law ") 
 speak of these titles as " modes of acquiring property." Austin 
 (Lecture XIV.) defines titles as " the facts or events of which they 
 (rights in rem) are legal consequences (or on which by the disposition 
 of the law they arise or come into beiag), and also the facts or events 
 on which, by the dispositions of the law, they (rights in rem) terminate 
 or are extinguished." 
 
 t We here treat of the titles of ownership in its strictest sense 
 only, i.e. ownership as exclusive of, or against the whole world. The 
 right which a buyer possesses to retain goods which he has bought 
 from one who is not the rightful owner avails against all others except 
 the real owner, and it is spoken of as ownership against certain persons. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 137 
 
 for, even though the system of private ownership is 
 admitted on all hands, still before a mart can make 
 any particular object his own he must be able to appeal 
 to some special fact or law which places the ownership 
 in him rather than in others. It is these facts or laws 
 that we shall here attempt to enumerate. 
 
 Titles are divided into natural and artificial (or civil), 
 according as they spring from the natural law or from 
 the positive, i.e. the civil law. Again, a title may be 
 fundamental, i.e. one on which all the others depend, or 
 it may be itself dependent on some other title. We shall 
 treat here : — • 
 
 I. Of the original and fundamental natural title to 
 property, or that title which all the others presuppose, 
 and which itself depends on and presupposes no other. 
 
 II, Of the chief subordinate natural titles. 
 
 I. THE FUNDAMENTAL NATURAL TITLE — OCCUPANCY 
 
 Some writers regard all ownership as grounded 
 ultimately on the civil law. Thus, according to Hobbes,* 
 all property is based on an express act of the sovereign. 
 Others, again, regard labour as the fundamental title. f 
 To our mind neither of these views is tenable. The 
 first we reject because (a) private property existed 
 before the State arose, when as yet the family was the 
 only social unit ; and (6) because, even now, titles of 
 ownership may be acquired without the consent of the 
 State, as when an individual discovers and appropriates 
 some valuable object in an unappropriated territory. 
 His right to keep such object could not be founded on 
 "State law. J The second theory above mentioned we 
 
 * " Leviathan," ch. 24. 
 
 t Locke, " Treatises on Government," Bk. II., ch. V. 
 
 % It will be seen, however, that though the titles to property 
 are not all founded on State law, nevertheless, the State can create 
 titles, and to all titles, even those which she does not create, she can 
 append conditions that hold in conscience as well as before the civil 
 tribunals. 
 
138 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 also reject because even in the things that are produced 
 by labour, there is always something which labour does 
 not produce, viz. the substance or the original materials 
 out of which the thing is made, and unless these materials 
 are first rightfully owned the results of our labour 
 cannot be appropriated. A man, for instance, cannot 
 on the mere title of labour become owner of the statue 
 which he makes, unless he is first the owner of the marble 
 on which his labour is expended. 
 
 The view to be defended here is that occupancy is 
 the fundamental title of ownership. The full exposition 
 of this thesis, however, will necessitate our establishing 
 two distinct propositioiis, first, that occupancy is a 
 proper and sufficient title of ownership, secondly, that 
 it is a fundamental title presupposed in all the others. 
 First, it is a sufficient title in the eyes of nature because 
 it fully meets nature's requirements in regard to her 
 goods. Nature places her goods before men to be used 
 by them. She is satisfied, therefore, with any course 
 which, while it offends against no pre-established right 
 and against no enactment of the civil law (for, of the 
 civil law also nature has a care, government and civil 
 law being necessities of nature), effectually places her 
 goods in the hands of men, and enables them to use her 
 goods. Such a course or act is that of occupancy. 
 Secondly, occupancy is a fundamental title presupposed 
 in all the others. If somebody did not become owner 
 of the land by occupancy, it could never be owned 
 either by individuals or by the community. Without 
 occupancy the individual could not become owner. To 
 labour on it, for instance, would not give the necessary 
 title because the land itself, though improved by labour, 
 is not produced by labour. Nor could the community 
 become owner except through occupancy : for the 
 community does not produce the land, and even its 
 right to spend labour on the land, and to prevent other 
 outside communities from doing the same, presupposes 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 139 
 
 originally be based upon no other act or event than that 
 of occupancy. • 
 
 In general, then, since a title is any act or event which 
 confers ownership, and since the first act or event which 
 could possibly bring an individual or a community 
 into direct relationship with anything in such a way as 
 to give rise to ownership in it, is the taking of it into 
 somebody's possession, occupancy is a necessary pre- 
 supposition of all titles of ownership. " Le seul cas 
 absolument inconteste d'acquisition par un mode 
 originaire est I'occupation, I'acquisition par la prise 
 de possession de choses qui n'appartiennent a personne." * 
 
 The Conditions of Occupancy. 
 
 To be a valid title occupancy must fulfil certain con- 
 ditions. Some of these atta(;h to the Uct of occupancy 
 some to the object. 
 
 The act of occupancy plainly includes two elements. 
 First, it involves the taking of something into one's power 
 or possession with the intention of holding it as one's 
 own. Secondly, the act must be such as to convey to 
 others some intimation that proprietary possession has 
 
 * Girard — " Droit Romain " (4th ed.), p. 314. Locke maintains 
 that even when things are acquired by occupancy it is the labour 
 exerted on them that really creates the title. As Westermarck, 
 however, remarks, it is only by means of " strained construction " 
 that occupancy may be explained in terms of labour. 
 
 Others, like Salmond (" Jurisprudence," p. 413) and Markby 
 (" Elements of Law," ch. IX.) represent occupancy as one division 
 of the more general title of possession, or the right which possession 
 gives one to keep the thing possessed even though it is not owned 
 on any other title. We contend, on the contrary, that "occupancy" 
 and "possession " are specifically distinct titles. For (a) occupancy is 
 a natural — possession, an artificial title, (b) Their ends are different ; 
 the end of possession, as Salmond confesses, is to " prevent force 
 and fraud," that of occupancy is to make ownership possible — without 
 it ownership could never begin, (c) They difier in their efiect : 
 occupancy confers a title against the whole world ; possession confers 
 the right to keep what is possessed, but only as against some. At 
 least the rightful owner of an article may sue for his property, or 
 even take it by force, (d) Occupancy is a rightful and legal act. 
 Possession may be illegal, as in the case of things purchased from one 
 who is known not to be the owner. 
 
140 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 been taken. From these it is evident that the act of 
 occupancy must be external.* By means of a purely 
 internal act one could not be said either effectively to 
 take possession, or to intimate such possession to others. 
 "What is this external act ? It is any act which brings 
 an object within one's power and can be understood by 
 others as an indication of ownership. Naturally it will 
 vary with the kind of object which is appropriated. 
 It is not sufficient, for instance, to point a gun at a 
 wild animal ; it must be shot or taken into possession 
 in some way, if it is to become one's private property. 
 Appropriation in land is effected not only by tilling or 
 enriching the soil, but by any act which in the common 
 judgment of men would be regarded as seriously 
 preparatory to use, such as fencing the land or marking 
 it out for use. A State usually occupies land by certain 
 acts indicative of annexation, e.g. planting a flag or 
 reading a proclamation, and by permanently establishing 
 civilised inhabitants with some kind of civilised ad- 
 ministration upon the land.j 
 
 Other natural conditions attach to the object which 
 is appropriated. First, we cannot appropriate by 
 occupancy what already belongs to another person. 
 Secondly, we cannot " occupy " any object which is 
 necessary for the community, unless the community 
 freely allows occupancy in the case. This necessity 
 gives to the community a claim upon the object which 
 effectively bars -the right of any individual to appro- 
 priate it in his own interest. Thirdly, since ownership 
 is the right of exclusive use, that which of its nature 
 cannot be exclusively possessed is not a fit object of 
 occupanc}^ No man can claim to own the air, though 
 
 * Some writers maintain that the external act is sufficient without 
 the intention. See Markby, " Elements of Law," ch. IX. This view 
 is obviously wrong. Ownership has its rights and its responsibilities, 
 and neither of these can be assumed without the intention to assume 
 them. 
 
 t Which act is known as " settlement." All these natural con- 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 141 
 
 there are writers who claim that a man may own some 
 portion of space which the air occupies, tjiat, namely, 
 above or, as some say, immediately above one's land. 
 Fourthly, since ownership is the right of use, the right 
 of ownership extends to objects in such quantities only 
 as admit of genuine use. An individual could not claim 
 ownership over a whole continent, but only, to use the 
 words of Locke, over " as much as any one can make 
 use of to any advantage of life before it spoils." A 
 somewhat similar condition applies in the case of occu- 
 pancy by the State. >The exact amount, indeed, which 
 a government is allowed to occupy is largely a matter 
 for international law to settle, and as yet international 
 law has not fixed the amount. But the spirit which 
 actuates the decisions of international law in this respect 
 would seem to be the same as that which has fixed the 
 rights of individuals. States, it would seem, are allowed 
 to occupy as much territory as they hope to be able to 
 control, if not at once, at all events in the near future.* 
 
 We said that it is no easy matter to determine the 
 extent of territory which it is possible for an individual 
 to utilise and control. It is certain, however, that 
 when a man effects a property in land by occupancy, 
 his control of it is supposed to be limited to that portion 
 of the land which he undertakes to use, viz. the surface 
 of the land. By surface land we mean such a depth of 
 land as can in any way influence or may be in any way 
 affected by operations at the surface, such as building 
 and planting, both of which operations produce results 
 or are affected by conditions existing far below the 
 
 * See Lawrence, " Principles of International Law," ch. II. sec. 74. 
 It was explained by the American negotiators at Madrid in the con- 
 troversy of 1803-1805 about the boundaries of Louisiana that " when 
 any European nation takes possession of any extent of sea-coast 
 that possession is understood as extending into the interior country 
 to the sources of the rivers emptying within that coast, to all their 
 branches, and the country they cover." Such, to our minds, is just 
 the extent of territory over which the occupation of a line of sea- 
 coast gives or promises some kind of effective control. 
 
142 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 level at which the operations actually occur. We know 
 of no principle of natural law which would give a man 
 who obtains possession of a certain portion of the surface 
 of the earth any rights over levels that lie below those 
 just indicated, and certainly there is no natural law by 
 which surface rights are extended, as is sometimes 
 claimed, to the centre of the earth. The natural law 
 does not, indeed, set a bar to such an extent of owner- 
 ship. Also it is possible for the civil law to declare the 
 owner of the surface lands owner also of everything 
 to the centre, for, as we said before, the civil law is 
 empowered by the natural law to affix the conditions 
 and determine the rights effected by occupancy. But it 
 is well to emphasise two things in this connection — first, 
 that it is only as a result of civil law that property in 
 the surface of the earth ?;an be understood as extending 
 to the centre of the earth ; secondly, that the wisdom 
 displayed by the civil governments of the world in this 
 connection has not always been of the highest order. 
 Experience and reason have both proved that it was a 
 mistake of English law to recognise that a man in occu- 
 pation of the soil was also necessarily in occupation of 
 the solid earth to the centre. Coal seams should never 
 have been deemed to belong to the mere landowner. 
 There have been discussions even in the case of govern- 
 ments on occasions of annexation as to the legitimate 
 occupancy of the hinterlands ; there should have been 
 none as to the wisdom of extending mere surface occu- 
 pancy to the underlands. Such occupancy, as we have 
 already said, we do not consider as barred positively 
 by natural law, but it was unwise of the ci\'il law to 
 ];ecognise the title of the landowner as sufficient also 
 for ownership of all that lies beneath. 
 
 Occupancy is not of much practical account in modem 
 civilised States, smce all the land of the earth is now 
 practically " occupied." And even such unoccupied 
 territories as still remain, like Central Africa, have been 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 143 
 
 to each competing government is fixed by special 
 treaties or understandings. The only case^ in which 
 occupancy is still to be regarded as an operative title 
 are those of the finder, fisherman, and hunter. Their 
 rights may easily be deduced from what has already 
 been said on the conditions of ownership, or they are 
 decided by special civil enactments in each country. 
 
 IL SUBORDINATE NATURAL TITLES — LABOUR 
 
 We have seen that labour is not the fundamental and 
 underived title of ownership. We must here show that, 
 though subordinate and derived, labour is a genuine 
 title of private ownership. 
 
 By nature every man is constituted master of his own 
 self including his own energies, mental and physical ; 
 or rather nature has conferred on each of us something 
 which is even higher than ownership ; for in making 
 our energies part of our own personality she has made 
 them so much our own that not only have <others not a 
 right to take them from us or use them, but they cannot 
 use them nor force us to use them, except we ourselves 
 agree. Nature, therefore, has made our energies ours, 
 not by moral right only, but also by physical necessity. 
 They are unthinkable as anybody else's. Even, says 
 Locke, though the earth and all creatures were common 
 to all, yet one thing could in no sense be regarded as 
 common ; for by nature " every man has a property 
 in his own person. The labour of his body and the 
 work of his hands are properly his." 
 
 Now it is this " ownership," if we may use the word 
 in a broad sense, which nature has given us over our- 
 selves and our energies, that gives to a man a right of 
 ownership over the things which his labour produces. 
 For just as the heat which results from the motion of a 
 falling body is nothing more than the kinetic energy of 
 that body transformed into heat energy, so the results 
 of a man's labour are nothing more than his own energies, 
 
144 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 physical and mental, transformed into the products of 
 energy. These energies are expended at our owii bidding ; 
 they appear again in another form, that, viz. of the 
 fruits or products of labour. Being masters, therefore, 
 and owners of our own energies, we are owners also of 
 the new forms, shapes, natures — the new values generally 
 in which our labour results, and into which our energies 
 have been transformed. 
 
 Labour, therefore, is a rightful title of ownership. It 
 gives a man a right to the new forms and values which 
 his labour, mental and physical, produces ; and, granted 
 that by occupancy by piirchase or by gift he owns 
 also the material in which these new forms and values 
 are produced, he becomes by labour owner of the rest, 
 and his property in the object is, therefore, complete. 
 
 GIFT 
 
 The consideration of "gift" properly belongs to the 
 subject of contract. Here, however, we may be allowed 
 to consider one important question, viz. whether " gift " 
 is a natural title of ownership. 
 
 Gift means the gratuitous placing of the ownership 
 of a thing in the hands of another. It is of two kinds — 
 simple gift (donatio inter vivos) and bequest. We shall 
 say a word on each of these, adding a short paragiaph 
 on another natural title of ownership cognate to the 
 title of bequest, viz. intestate succession.* 
 
 That gift is a natural f title of ownership is evident 
 in the first place from the conception of ownership 
 
 * These two latter titles make up the natural title of inheritance. 
 
 t Our statement that " gift " is a natural title is in no way affected 
 by the fact that as Markby says (" Elements of Law," p. 248) " the 
 general right of alienation which now exists has been slowly and 
 painfully gained." Though gift is a natural right, still, like most 
 natural rights, its exercise is subject to the control of positive law. 
 The early positive laws did much to restrain the exercise of this right. 
 Another reason why the right of " gift " was limited in ancient times 
 is found in the fact that in early history property belonged rather to 
 the family, i.e. the family as a continuing unit, than to the father. 
 He, therefore, had not the right to alienate the property freely to 
 others. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 145 
 
 itself. Ownership is the right of disposing of a thing 
 as one wishes, in which right is certainly yicluded the 
 •power of giving it to another. Secondly, this right is 
 necessary for human progress. For the contract of 
 selling is necessary for progress, and giving is a necessary 
 part of and contained in selling. Selling means giving 
 for a price. 
 
 BEQUEST 
 
 Bequest is a declaration of a person's intentions in 
 regard to property designed to take effect at death. 
 
 Bequest is a natural right of property. For, first, it 
 is contained in the very idea of ownership. Ownership 
 brings with it a natural right of absolute control. But 
 absolute control includes the right to dispose not only 
 of the present but of the future use of property, and 
 without limit as to time. And bequest is only an 
 exercise of this power. Secondly, bequest is necessary 
 for the peace of mankind and for social development. 
 For, property for which there is no successor either 
 becomes derelict on the death of its owner, in which 
 case confusion and endless strife ensue ; or it passes 
 to the State, in which condition of things there is no 
 incentive to induce a man to accumulate more than is 
 required for his own life ; and without the accumula- 
 tion of capital, economic development is impossible. 
 Thirdly, property is, as we have alread}^ seen, primarily 
 instituted by nature for the good of the family, and, 
 therefore, a father should at least have the right to be- 
 queath the family property to his wife and children. 
 
 A Difficulty. 
 
 The chief difficulty confronting one in connection with 
 this theory that bequest is a natural right is that the act 
 of bequest seems to be inherently contradictory.* The 
 
 * The objector here takes it for granted that it is only nature 
 that cannot deal in contradictions. The civil law it is supposed could 
 regard as valid the most absurd and contradictory of acts. 
 
 VOL. II — 10 
 
146 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 testator', it is said, is supposed to retain ownership of his 
 property during hfe. And after death he is not in a position 
 to confer ownership on another. Bequest then would seem- 
 to be impossible. 
 
 Reply.— This difficulty is solved in different ways. Some 
 maintain that bequeathed property passes to .the bene- 
 ficiaries not after or at, but before death, viz. during the 
 last moment of a man's life and, therefore, whilst he is full 
 owner of it. Hence the expression, " this is my last (act of) 
 will and testament." Under this interpretation of bequest 
 the contradiction referred to in the present difficulty does 
 not arise. Others maintain that the transference takes 
 place at the moment of death, not before or after : and it 
 is pointed out that it is only after death that a man is not in 
 a position to dispose of his property. It is objected to this 
 solution that a man cannot vaUdly transfer property at the 
 moment at which he is himself losing hold of it, that to 
 transfer property a man should be firm holder of it at the 
 time of transfer. The defenders of the present solution, 
 however, reply — why may not transference take place at 
 the very same moment that a man is losing hold- of his 
 property. In " gift " the donor loses ownership and the 
 donee comes into ownership at one and the same moment, 
 otherwise either a moment elapses in which there is no 
 owner, or there are two firm owners at the same moment, 
 both of which suppositions are impossible. Just, therefore, 
 as gift is a natural title in spite of the fact that the donor 
 is losing ownership at the moment of transfer, so also 
 bequest is natural under the same condition. 
 
 Either solution seems to us to answer the difficulty fully. 
 The transference of property in the case of bequest "takes 
 place either during the last moment of a man's hfe, or at the 
 moment of death. It does not take place after death. 
 
 INTESTATE SUCCESSION 
 
 We may be allowed to treat very briefly .here of 
 another title to property, cognate to the title of bequest, 
 that, viz. of intestate succession. 
 
 That intestate succession is natural, at least in the 
 case of succession by the children or by the mother 
 and children, is proved as follows : (a) The children are 
 naturally the continuation of their father's personality. 
 This is why in nearly all civil codes the children at 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 147 
 
 least are regarded as " necessary heirs " whom it is 
 illegal to dispossess. They, therefore, shoilld succeed 
 their father as owner, {b) In a broad sense of the word 
 the father holds his property as a trustee for his family, 
 since, as we have already seen, property is intended 
 by nature primarily for the family. On the death of 
 the father, therefore, the family will naturally succeed. 
 
 (c) The father is not a mere individual. He is naturally 
 also a member of the wider unit of the family. On the 
 death of the father, therefore, the property should pass 
 automatically into the possession of that wider unit. 
 
 [d) During life a man's wife and children share in the 
 same social status as the father. They are, therefore, 
 in a sense subordinate co-proprietors with him of all 
 those things that determine social status, and principally 
 of property. At his death, therefore, they have a 
 claim on the property which no other persons have. 
 
 For these reasons it is evident that when a man dies 
 intestate his family ought to succeed by natural law. 
 But the same reasons can be made to prove that a man 
 in bequeathing his property ought not to be unmindful 
 of the needs of his wife and children. Even though the 
 father is by the civil law regarded as sole legal owner, 
 his wife and children have natural claims upon him that 
 cannot be ignored. He may, indeed, exercise some 
 discretion in regard to his property, but he ought at 
 least to leave to wife and children as much of his property 
 as will, with some exercise of energy on their part, open 
 out a road to their future prosperity. Indeed, the public 
 interest dictates that unless a property is in danger of 
 being squandered, the hulk of it should not be dis- 
 sociated from the family. It is mainly through the 
 family that property increases from age to age. 
 
 PEESCRIPTION AND ACCRETION 
 
 We feel compelled to say a word here on two special 
 titles of ownership which, though technicaUy civil titles, are 
 yet based upon strong and compelling natural grounds. 
 
148 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The first of these is the title of prescription* A full dis- 
 cussion of this title of prescription would be impossible in a 
 work like the present, but it is necessary to say how it stands 
 in relation to the civil law. Without aiming at a precise 
 definition of prescription we may describe it with Salmond f 
 as identical with the effects of lapse of time in creating and 
 destroying rights of ownership. Thus in England a man 
 may not recover at law payment of a debt six years after 
 it first becomes payable. A right of way over private land 
 is established after twenty years of de facto use. In the 
 civil law, therefore, it is evident that merely through the 
 operation of lapse of time a right or a part right of ownership 
 may be lost to one person and acquired by another. 
 
 Now evidently this title has its origin in the civil law 
 only and not in the natural law. It is not natural, because 
 a man's right of ownership over an object could never in 
 strictness be defeated by want of actual possession and lapse 
 of time alone. But, though nature herself does not set up 
 prescription as a law, she urges it most strongly upon the 
 civil government as something highly necessary for the 
 welfare of the community, and the reasons for which it is 
 urged by natiire are as follows : {a) without laws of prescrip- 
 tion all ownership would be uncertain. Claimants might 
 arise at any time to question some past transaction in con- 
 nection with the transfer of property — documentary and 
 other evidence in defence of the owner having in the mean- 
 time perished or become unavailable, (b) Without prescrip- 
 tion contracts would be impossible. No sensible man Would 
 take the risk of purchasing property the ownership of which 
 was liable to continual examination and question without 
 limit of time, (c) The fact of possession over a long period 
 is itself normally a presumption , of rightful ownership. J 
 And this presumption is sufficient to justify the civil author- 
 ities in accepting actual possession over a long period as 
 indicative, even against arguments on the other side, of 
 rightful possession from the beginning. 
 
 The important question arises whether ^ood faith is necessary 
 in natural law for prescription. It certainly is necessary for 
 
 * For the history and derivation of the word " prescription," see 
 F. Girard, " Droit Romain," p. 299. For difference in Roman Law 
 of usucapio (through which property was acquired) and praescriptio 
 (which was an exception barring the remedy) see Mackenzie, " Roman 
 Law," p. 195. 
 
 t " Jurisprudence." 
 
 {See Salmond "Jurisprudence," p. 416; also Mill, " PoUtical 
 Economy," p. 134. 
 
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 149 
 
 the acquiring of the complete rights of ownership over a 
 thing. Without good faith a mere right of w»y might be 
 estabhshed by lapse of time. But lapse of time could not 
 bestow rightful ownership over a stolen article, the true 
 history of which was known to the purchaser of the article 
 at the time of purchase. The reason is that the purchaser 
 of such an article is bound to make compensation to the 
 original owner for all losses sustained by him in respect of 
 this article during the time of its retention, and it is im- 
 possible that nature should bestow upon a man a right to 
 keep an object and at the same time impose an obligation 
 of compensation for having it in his possession. Indeed if 
 any mala fide possessor could become rightful owner on the 
 mere title of lapse of time such title would operate as a 
 permanent incitement to dishonesty, since even good men 
 would at times be prepared to put up with a few years of 
 moral guilt in the hope that lapse of time would finally 
 lead to a right of honest possession. 
 
 Another title (accretion) technically civil, but yet based 
 on strong natural grounds, arises where two objects 
 belonging to different owners are inseparably joined. Natural 
 law decides nothing as to the question in whom ownership 
 of the joint object ought to vest. That is a question for the 
 civil law altogether. But in general it may be said that 
 the determining principle followed by the civil law in this 
 case is the natural principle that what is accessory ought 
 to be subordinated to, and to follow, what is principal. 
 Thus in the case known as " accession " where of two things 
 inseparably joined no change occurs in either, e.g. a picture 
 printed by one person on another person's canvas, the painter 
 of the picture becomes owner, with, of course, an obligation 
 of compensating the owner of the canvas. Again, in the 
 case technically known as " specification " where a substance 
 belonging to one person is worked up by the labour of another 
 into something quite different and more valuable, e.g. 
 where grapes are turned into wine, ownership vests in the 
 person who produces the more valuable " form." In Roman 
 Law, however, it should be noted that this rule applied only 
 in cases in which the old form was lost irretrievably A 
 silver statue which could be melted down again to the form 
 ol silver bullion belonged in Roman Law to the owner of 
 the silver. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 SOCIALISM 
 
 DEFINITION 
 
 Communism is the theory that private possessions 
 or private property of every kind ought to be aboHshed 
 and the public ownership of property set up in its place. 
 This theory we disproved in our last chapter, showing 
 that from the point of view of the individual, of the 
 family, and of the State, private property is required by 
 natuiallaw. The present chapter deals with socialism. 
 Socialism is also a theory of common ownership, not 
 common ownership of all property or possessions, but 
 of one kind of property only, viz. capital. It advocates 
 the total abolition of private ownership in capital, and 
 the substitution of public ownership of all capital by 
 the State. 
 
 By capital is understood all forms of wealth or 
 property used for the sake of income. And as income is, 
 as a rule, derivable only from property employed in the 
 production of wealth, like land,* mines, and machinery, 
 or in its distribution, like shops, warehouses, railways, 
 steamships, banks, and exchanges so socialism is often 
 described as the theory of the nationahsation of all the 
 sources of production and distribution. This definition 
 we are quite content to follow in the present work, but 
 it does not represent the most fundamental notion in 
 socialism which is the nationalisation of all capital or 
 of all the sources of income. 
 
 Now, socialists are aware that to attempt to abolish 
 private ownership in all the sources of income, down to 
 
 * Some writers speak of " land and capital." We see no valid 
 reason for excluding the land from the notion of capital ; the reason 
 usually given, viz. that land is incapable of increase and, therefore, 
 has no supply price and easily becomes the subject of unearned 
 increment, only marks it out as a very special kind of capital. 
 
 150 
 
SOCIALISM 151 
 
 the very smallest, would be a very unprofitable if not 
 impossible task. And so they are prepared to allow 
 certain exceptions to their theory that all the sources 
 of income should be nationalised. They will, for 
 instance, allow a man to own a very small garden, 
 provided he does not grow things to sell ; and a house- 
 wife to own a sewing machine to mend and even make 
 clothes, provided she does not take orders from outside. 
 Some socialists even make mention of certain small 
 and unimportant businesses which might, under social- 
 ism, be allowed to remain in private hands. Now 
 these are only exceptions, but they are manifestly 
 inconsistent with the idea of socialism, and they serve 
 to show how impossible socialism is, and how difficult 
 it is to retain the essentials of socialism once we begin 
 to introduce modifications into the theory so as to make 
 it appear in some way possible and practicable. For 
 where is one to draw the line ? If a man may have a 
 small garden for his private use, why not a hundred 
 acres for his private use ? If a family may own a 
 sewing machine, why not own machinery for the pro- 
 duction of all that they need ? If a huckster's shop 
 may remain in private hands why not a small drapery 
 establishment ? Extend these exceptions far enough, 
 and the principle of private ownership in capital re- 
 appears, and may dominate our whole commercial 
 system once more. 
 
 In the pages to follow we shall not take advantage 
 of this inconsistency, being anxious to discuss the theory 
 of socialism in the broadest spirit. The arguments, 
 therefore, which we shall advance in our discussion will 
 be found to avail not only against socialism in its strictest 
 sense, but even against those modified forms of the 
 socialist theory which allow of the retention in private 
 hands of those very small sources of income which we 
 have just mentioned.* 
 
 * Innumerable other differences exist amongst socialists of which 
 no account will be taken in .our discussion. Some, for instance, 
 
152 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN SOCIALISM 
 
 We must ask our readers to be content with the briefest 
 possible reference to ancient or even early modern com- 
 munist or socialist systems. 
 
 Plato advocated the system not of socialism merely, but of 
 extreme communism, including community of all goods, 
 of wealth, of education. His theory was opposed by 
 Aristotle, who gives in his " Politics " a reasoned defence 
 of the system of private property. 
 
 Not all those theories which we shall select for mention 
 in the modern period are theories of socialism ; but those 
 that are not in themselves socialistic will be found either 
 to have helped in creating a reaction against the capitahst 
 theory by emphasising certain vices of capitahsm, or to 
 have formed part of the socialist movement by advocating 
 increase of State interference in industry, or organisation 
 on the part of the working classes, or some other part of 
 the sociaUst programme. These theories, therefore, when 
 not socialistic in themselves, may be regarded as having in 
 some sense prepared the way for socialism. With our 
 definition of socialism before him the reader should have no 
 
 claim that under socialism the State will be no more, others that 
 under socialism the State will be world-wide. Again, there are the 
 revolutionist and evolutionist schools of socialism which we shall 
 describe in the historical note to follow. But the principal differences 
 between socialists appertain to religion and the function and place of 
 the family in the community under the new rigime. As to these, 
 one or two words are necessary. Socialist writers often complain 
 that critics of their system instead of confining their enquiries and 
 criticisms to what is essential in socialism, viz. the nationalisation of 
 capital, attempt to raise prejudices against the theory by attacking 
 certain views about marriage and religion which are in no sense a 
 part of socialism, but are simply private beliefs and prepossessions 
 defended by certain individuals who happen also to be socialists. 
 About this contention we have to make the following remarks : first, 
 socialists are themselves to blame for this supposed misdirected and 
 unfair criticism. For it is the socialists who connect up the ob- 
 jectionable theories here referred to (such as that all present religion 
 should be done away with, and that marriage should cease or undergo 
 such grave modifications as are opposed to our present view of the 
 essentials of family life) with the socialist system, defending these 
 theories as part of the system and as necessary deductions from the 
 principle of socialism. Secondly, most critics of socialism believe 
 that socialism ought to be judged as a living movement rather than 
 as a mere written theory, and certainly as a living movement socialism 
 has been and is hostile both to religion and to our present family 
 system. Its leaders are as a rule actuated by the most intense hatred 
 of religion, and they make no secret as to their views of marriage, 
 ^arx, Engcls, Bebel, Kautsky, and all the accepted authorities on 
 
SOCIALISM 153 
 
 difficulty in determining which of the following systems are 
 really socialistic and which are only preparatoryto socialism. 
 
 ' In the early modern period we find a scheme not of 
 socialism merely but of genuine communism developed in 
 the conversation of one Raphael, in Sir Thomas More's * 
 " Utopia." More does not himself express any adhesion 
 to Raphael's communism (" I cannot," he writes, " agree 
 and consent to all the thinges that he saide "), but he con- 
 fesses that in the Utopian Commonwealth there are many 
 things which he " wishes " but cannot " hope for." Other 
 Utopias appeared later, in some of, which, as in that of 
 CampaneUa j in Italy, communism is advocated, whilst 
 others, e.g. that of Harrington J in England, recommend 
 at least some law fixing the amount of property one can 
 hold. 
 
 The theory of the equality of all men which was taught 
 by Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau, played no unimportant 
 
 socialism are bitterly hostile to Christianity and to Theism. Again, 
 the socialist bodies at their conventions adopt resolutions antagonistic 
 to and directed formally against Christianity and authoritative 
 teaching of any kind. The Austrian Socialists in May, 1898, passed 
 such a resolution " with thunderous applause," as the Vorwdrts reports 
 — (See Cathrein, " Socialism," p. 220.). The French Socialist Party 
 at Tours (1902) declared that " over against all religious dogmas, 
 and churches ... it sets the unlimited right of free thought," etc. 
 It demanded also " abrogation of every law establishing the civil 
 inferiority of women and natural or adulterine children," as well as 
 the introduction of " most liberal legislation on divorce " — (See 
 Ensor, "Modern Socialism," p. 347.). The living socialist movement 
 is thus definitely opposed to Christianity and the Christian teaching 
 on marriage, and even though a few, very few, socialist writers 
 repudiate the anti-Christian attitude adopted in the movement, it 
 is absurd to claim that socialism has no association with any other 
 principle than the economic principle of the nationalisation of capital. 
 
 In the present work, however, we shall confine our discussion to 
 this economic pjiuciple of the nationalisation of all the sources of 
 income, since there can be no doubt that the nationalisation of capital 
 is the fundamental principle, the first plank, in the programme of 
 socialism, and from it the other parts of the programme are made to 
 proceed. This is the one universally accepted tenet of socialist 
 writers and Ipaders ; and, therefore, it is rightly regarded as the true 
 definition of socialism. But we shall see later (p. 269) that, whatever 
 may be the views entertained by individual socialists, this doctrine 
 of the nationalisation of all capital leads on to conclusions which are 
 radically opposed to our present views as to the essential laws and 
 attributes of the family. 
 
 * More (1480-1535). 
 
 t (1568-1639) — A Philosopher of the Italian Renaissance, born at 
 Calabria. 
 
 I (1611-77) — Author of " Oceana." 
 
154 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 part in the movement for the overthrow of capitalism with 
 its most unequal distribution of wealth, whilst Rousseau's 
 theory — that all our economic evils began when land was 
 first taken into private hands, led directly to the theory of 
 socialism. 
 
 Out of the French Revolution sprang a number of sociahst 
 or communist Utopias. One of these developed by Francis 
 Noel Babeuf, who was guillotined in 1797 for having founded 
 a secret society for the promotion of his ideas, is a theory of 
 pure socialism. He claimed that all men should be assigned 
 equal work in the State, even the disagreeable functions 
 being undertaken by all in turn, and that all wealth should 
 be under the control of the community and be distributed 
 to each according to his needs. Godwin * also in England 
 proposed a theory of pure communism. 
 
 The great social movement which led to the rise of modern 
 socialism may be said to have definitely beguii with St. 
 Simon | in France. St. Simon was not a socialist, his doctrines 
 are genuinely capitalistic. He maintained that the State 
 ought to be built on an industrial basis, and that it should 
 be directed, not by politicians, but by capitalists. It was 
 on account of his insistence on certain rights of labour, 
 viz. that the chief end of the State was to help the working 
 classes, that the State should provide work for the unem- 
 ployed, and should provide for their education out of the 
 pubUc funds, that his name is usually connected with the 
 socialist movement. St. Simon's disciples, however, went 
 much further than their master. In their works is emphasised 
 nearly every argument against the capitalist system which 
 Marx developed at a later period, e.g. the absence of freedom 
 in the labour contract, the evil effects of industrial crises, 
 and also something approaching to an " iron law of wages." 
 They also constructed a positive socialist system based on 
 these doctrines. 
 
 The " phalanx " view of labour advocated by Ch. Fourier I 
 
 * (1756-1836) — Author of " Political Justice." 
 
 t (1760-1825) — Born at Paris. His two principal works are "The 
 Industrial System " and " The New Christianity." His principal 
 disciples, who, though not so well known, really did more for the 
 socialist movement than was accomplished by their master, were 
 Rodrigues, Enfantin, and Bazard. The two latter together wrote the 
 important work " Exposition of the doctrines of St. Simon." 
 
 } (1772-1837) — Born at Besan9on. His chief work is entitled 
 " Exposition of the Four Movements." Fourier's theories on their 
 economic side met with considerable commendation from John Stuart 
 Mill. 
 
SOCIALISM 155 
 
 is well known. He maintained that the community should 
 divide itself into labour phalanxes of about 2,0^0 men each, 
 living together in " phalansteries." After each man had 
 been suppUed with the necessaries of life, the profits derived 
 from their labour should be divided in a certain proportion, 
 viz. 5/12 to labour, 4/12 to capital, 3/12 to talent. In the 
 phalanstery means should be taken to make all work agree- 
 able, a matter, Fourier tells us, that could very easily be 
 accomplished. But all should be made to work, and if 
 any little disagreeableness did still continue to attach to 
 certain employments those employments should be awarded 
 additional remuneration. Fourier would not abolish private 
 property or inheritance and so he is not a socialist, but from 
 the doctrines that he did advocate his connection with the 
 socialist movement is easily understood. Marriage, as an 
 indissoluble union of one man and one woman, he would 
 abolish. His doctrines are even in the direction of free 
 love and community of wives — a strange theory, considering 
 that he would still retain the right of private property. 
 
 A further step in the development of socialism was taken 
 when Robert Owen * and Cabet f founded actual socialist 
 colonies, one at New Harmony (Indiana), the other at Texas 
 (Illinois). Both colonies were failures. 
 
 Louis Blanc | attacked the competitive system, and 
 advocated the formation of societies of co-operative pro- 
 duction. He even obtained government subsidies for his 
 work, which, however, came to nothing. 
 
 The theory that all wealth is produced by labour, ad- 
 vocated by Karl Rodbertus,§ and the same author's doctrine 
 that wages under capitalism tend to remain at their lowest 
 point : the conversion, by Ferdinand Lasalle,|| of the latter 
 principle into his celebrated " iron law of wages," viz. that 
 wages under capitalism tend to remain at the level barely 
 sufficient for the sustenance of the workman, and his 
 programme of labour associations for the combating of 
 capitalists, all these theories evidently bring us far on the 
 way to socialism. The next name we meet with in the history 
 
 * (1771-1858). 
 
 t (1788-1856). 
 
 J (1811-1882) — Of French origin, but bom at Madrid. 
 
 § (1805-1875) — Born at Greifswald. 
 
 II (1825-1864) — Bom at Breslau. The strength of sociaUsm as a 
 living movement in Germany is probably more attributable to Lassalle 
 than to anybody else. Though posing as the friend of the poor, 
 LEissalle was a man of fashionable and luxurious habits, 
 
156 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of the socialist movement is that of the great founder of 
 " scientific socialism " — Karl Marx.* 
 
 KARL MARX 
 
 In the course of the following chapters we shall have to 
 study Marx's arguments in detail. We may, however, be 
 allowed to give here a very brief account of the view which 
 is developed in his world-famed book — " Das Kapital." 
 Karl Marx confines his enquiry to an examination of the 
 present capitalistic system, making only the briefest reference 
 at the close of his work to the system by which capital is to 
 be replaced, that viz. of collective industry. The system of 
 capitalism, he maintains, not only ought to but will, sooner 
 or later, be brought to a close and be succeeded by the 
 system of collective industry. This claim is made to rest 
 on two kinds of proof, first, the historical proof — embodied in 
 his " materialist conception of history" ; secondly, certain 
 theoretical proofs, resting on certain vices inherent in 
 capitalism. These two arguments are not wholly dis- 
 sociated by Marx, as will presently be seen. The first 
 argument is as follows : having shown in a previous work \ 
 that the development of industry takes the form of an 
 evolutionary movement, carried out under necessary laws, 
 and owing nothing whatever to strictly human initiative, 
 that many changes which are generally attributed to direct 
 human design are in reality automatic results due to changes 
 that have occurred in the manner of production and ex- 
 change ; that whereas it is usuaUy thought that alterations 
 in our economic system are caused by modifications effected 
 in our social system, the opposite is the case, our social 
 system, our ideals, our wishes being themselves effects 
 brought about by alterations in the economic world — he 
 then goes on in his work on Capital to apply his theory of 
 evolution to the world of industry. Progress in industry, 
 he tells us, occurs after the manner of an evolution determined 
 by purely natural and necessary causes. In the develop- 
 
 * (i Si 8-83) — Bom at Trier in Rhenish Prussia. Like Lassalle, 
 Marx was of Jewish extraction. 
 
 t " Criticism of Political Economy." The " materialist conception 
 of history " which we here connect with the name of Marx is found 
 in the fully developed form in which it is now usually presented in 
 a work, not of Marx himself who presents only an outline of the theory, 
 but of Marx's friend and collaborator Frederic Engels, named " Social- 
 ism, Utopian and Scientific." In this work we have a brief and very 
 scientific presentation of the whole Marxian theory. 
 
SOCIALISM 157 
 
 ment of industry each stage is the result of the stage im- 
 mediately preceding. Capitalism * is itself only one of those 
 stages and must pass away in time as the other stages 
 passed. Even now it contains within itself the causes or 
 germs of its own dissolution. One of these " immanent 
 causes " whereby capitalism is to bring about its own 
 dissolution, and the account of which forms the chief part 
 of Marx's historical argument, is the ever increasing con- 
 centration that must necessarily occur in capital, leading 
 to the formation of trusts, rings, cartels, pools, a process of 
 concentration which is brought about by the very principle 
 of competitive capitalism itself, the weaker firms being 
 constantly forced to retire altogether or to amalgamate 
 with the stronger firms. This ever increasing process of 
 concentration, Marx tells us, must in time lead to the total 
 abolition of competition, and to absolute unification of all 
 capital in the hands, first of a very small group of individuals 
 or bodies,'and, then, of the State. The other causes whereby 
 capitaUsm is to bring about its own overthrow, and which 
 constitute Marx's second argument, are certain evils which 
 are inherent in capitalism itself. For instance, under 
 capitahsm the surplus-value of labour is appropriated by 
 the capitalist who yet does nothing to produce it ; capitalism 
 maintains a permanent army of unemployed men, the 
 existence of which keeps wages at their lowest level ; under 
 capitalism, with its want of adjustment of supply to demand, 
 crises are unavoidable, and so on. The future of the system 
 is thus described by Marx | : " Along with the constantly 
 diminishing number of the magnates of capital who usurp 
 and monopolise all advantages of the process of transforma- 
 tion, grows the mass of misery, oppression, slavery, degrada- 
 tion, exploitation ; but with this, too, grows the revolt of 
 the working class, a class always increasing in numbers, and 
 disciplined, united, organised by the very mechanism of 
 the process of capitalist production itself. The monopoly 
 of capital becomes a fetter upon the mode of production 
 which has sprung up and flourished along with and under 
 it. Centralisation of the means of production and socialisa- 
 tion of labour at last reach a point where they become 
 incompatible with their capitalist integument. This in- 
 tegument is burst asunder, the knell of capitalist private 
 
 * This part of the argument dealing with concentration, which 
 is given and criticised in the first place in our work, is presented by 
 Marx after the arguments dealing with the evils of capitalism. 
 
 f " Capital," I. 789. 
 
158 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 property sounds. The expropriators are expropriated." 
 On the same page Marx also informs us that this process of 
 expropriation will require an incomparably shorter time for 
 its completion than did the process by which capitalism was 
 itself developed out of the system that preceded it.* 
 
 Marx did not himself attempt to formulate any scheme of 
 collective industriahsm. He was content to show that 
 collectivism in some form must arrive. This second task 
 of construction was undertaken by Schaeffle in his " Quintess- 
 ence of Socialism," a work which, although not written in 
 defence of collectivism, has been, nevertheless, accepted by 
 all socialists as a sound and reliable exposition (a few points 
 excepted) of the form which the collectivist State'must 
 necessarily assume whenever it appears. 
 
 Schaeffle's t positive scheme of collectivism may be 
 briefly summarised as follows : the system of private capital 
 is to be replaced by that of collective capital : nevertheless, 
 just as under capitaUsm, so also under socialism, freedom of 
 demand is to be the guiding principle of trade, i.e. com- 
 modities will be produced as they are required and not 
 merely as government desires : this will require " statistical 
 registration of the free wants of individuals and of families " 
 periodically arranged, a task apparently of great difficulty ; 
 but it will be considerably lightened by the fact that under 
 sociahsm luxuries will not be required, luxuries being a 
 need only for people of excessive wealth — a class that will 
 not exist under socialism : under socialism coinage must 
 cease, J commodities being paid for by labour certificates 
 to be earned by labour ; labour, or, to be more precise, 
 " socially useful " labour, will thus be made, what, he main- 
 tains, in actual fact it is, the true norm of value : again, 
 
 * The difference between Marx's system and those that preceded 
 it are described in a characteristic and interesting way by his friend 
 and co-worker, Frederick Engels, in the well-known work, " Socialism, 
 Utopian and Scientific," already referred to. The pre-Marxian 
 theories he describes as Utopian, i.e. they represented ideal systems 
 devised for ideal men, systems which could only be imposed on society 
 from without (p. 12). Marx's socialism is scientific, i.e. Marx studies 
 society as it is. He studies the classes which compose it, and in the 
 economic conditions of society itself he discovers the means by which 
 the antagonisms of the classes are to be ended (p. 42) and the socialist 
 State brought into being. 
 
 t A. E. F. Schaeffle (1831-1903), born at WUrttemberg ; Professor 
 of Political Science at University of Vienna, and also at one time 
 Minister of Finance for Austria. 
 
 { On this point most socialists {e.g. Kautsky) differ from Schaeffle. 
 
SOCIALISM 159 
 
 since only socially useful labour is to count as a title to 
 reward, it will be for the State to induce men to turn their 
 labour to useful purposes, by raising or lowering the price 
 of labour according as it is more or less socially useful. It 
 is generally believed that under socialism each man will be 
 obliged to do the work appointed to him by the State, without 
 any exercise of choice on his part. This idea is quite 
 erroneous, Schaeffle tells us. Under socialism there will be 
 " no compulsory assignment of posts." But there will be 
 inducement and encouragement on the part of the State, 
 in order that th© necessary work may be performed.* " If 
 socialism," he writes, "is not able to preserve all the good 
 points of the liberal system such as freedom of labour and 
 domestic supply ... it has no prospect of, and no claims 
 to, realisation." 
 
 The later history of the socialist movement concerns not 
 the end or purpose of socialism, which we may now regard 
 as fixed, but questions of means and tactics alone. On the 
 one hand there is the revolutionary school in agreement with 
 Marx, and led by such men as Kautsky | in Germany, 
 Guesde J in France, and Hyndman in England. These 
 writers beUeve in revolution, not in the sense of a bloody 
 revolution, but in the sense of compulsory overthrow of 
 the present system. The means to this end are the strike, 
 and mastery of the political machine. Violence will be 
 resorted to only in the end and only to put down resistance 
 on the part of the masters. § On the other hand there is 
 the evolutionist or reformist standpoint of which the most 
 noted representative is Bernstein. || The evils, he claims, 
 which Marx enumerates are largely imaginary. Socialism 
 
 * Schaefile does not tell us how this is to be accomplished. For 
 an examination of this most difficult part of the socialist programme 
 see p. 254 of present volume. 
 
 t Kautsky 's best and most interesting works are " Le Marxisme 
 et son Critique Bernstein "—his principal work, written in 1899, 
 ■' The Social Movement," and " On the Morrow of the Social 
 Revolution." 
 
 t See "Le Catechisme Socialiste." 
 
 § Kautsky maiutains that the growth of socialism is like that 
 of the child in the womb, slow and quiet, but that the end will be 
 in some degree violent and catastrophic like the birth of the child. 
 
 II Benstein's work is entitled " Evolutionary Socialism." Other 
 thinkers of the reformist or revolutionist school are Millerand (" Le 
 Sociahsme Reformiste "), Jaurfes (" Studies in Socialism "), Vander- 
 velde (" Le CoUectivisme et I'Evolution Industrielle "), Webb, and 
 the Fabians. 
 
i6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 is certainly an end to be striven for, not as a mere remedy 
 for existing ills, but as something good in itself ; not by 
 miserable men such as it is supposed capitalism produces, 
 but by successful and happy men. And men are, according 
 to Bernstein, even under capitahsm, gradually attaining to 
 that degree of welfare and independence which will fit them 
 for the advent of sociaUsm. The advent of socialism will, 
 accordingly, be brought about, not by way of reaction 
 against, but by a gradual process of development and im- 
 provement within, the existing system. What, therefore, 
 should most interest the socialist is the question of the ends 
 that may be immediately obtained, for instance, the develop- 
 ment of co-operative associations, the promotion of particular 
 municipal and national industries, the institution of labour 
 syndicates, particularly in such a form as will give to labour 
 control of the political machine ; and, finally, progressive 
 taxation. But all these efforts should be made in view of 
 the true end of socialism, which is the fuU and final con- 
 centration of all capital in the hands of the State. 
 
 We cannot bring this brief historical survey to a close 
 without some reference, however brief, to two well-known 
 recent movements in regard to the socialisation of capital, 
 viz. Syndicalism and Guild-Socialism. Syndicalism aims at 
 concentrating the ownersliip of capital, not in the hands of 
 the State, but rather of the trade unions. For each de- 
 partment of industry there is to be one great union, and that 
 union is to own the capital in the working of which it is 
 specially concerned.* The method by which the present 
 system is to be overthrown and trade union ownership put 
 in its place is the general strike. 
 
 Guild-Socialism aims at placing, not the ownership, but 
 the management of capital in the hands of the trade unions 
 or guilds. The State will still be owner of all the capital 
 in the kingdom, and private ownership will be excluded. 
 Union control as opposed to State control will, it is claimed, 
 greatly facilitate the management of capital, while State 
 ownership will eliminate all the evils of private capitalism. 
 
 In the present volume it will not be necessary to consider 
 these two systems as distinct from the general theory of 
 Socialism. They both emphasise what is essential in Social- 
 ism and what we shall show to be intrinsically wrong, viz. 
 
 * Whether each of these unions is to be national or international 
 is not quite settled ; but syndicalists generally aim at internationalism. 
 
SOCIALISM i6i 
 
 the denial of the right of individuals to own private capital. 
 Syndicalism and Guild-Socialism, therefore, must stand or 
 fall by what will be said on the more general theory of 
 Socialism or Collectivism. The method employed by the 
 syndicalists, however, that viz. of the general strike, will be 
 specially considered. 
 
 In regard now to our discussion on Socialism our intention 
 is to address ourselves in the first place to the Marxian argu- 
 ments and then to the socialist principle itself. No doubt 
 there are socialists, like Bernstein, who have rejected the 
 Marxian arguments. But these arguments cannot be ig- 
 nored. For, first, they represent the only serious attempt of 
 socialist writers to show that capitalism has inherent vices, 
 which may be palliated by various means, but which can be 
 eradicated from human society only by the total abolition 
 of capitalism. The Marxian arguments, therefore, consti- 
 tute the true and essential ground of the socialist system. 
 Secondly, many members even of, Bernstein's reformist 
 school * make special reference to the Marxian arguments. 
 Finally, it is the Marxian arguments that find most frequent 
 mention on public socialist platforms, and that make the 
 most urgent appeal to the understanding and sympathies 
 of the labour world. 
 
 THE GROUNDS OF SOCIALISM 
 
 Our discussion on socialism in the present and following 
 four chapters divides itself naturally into two parts. 
 First, we must consider the grounds of socialism ; 
 secondly, the merits and demerits of socialism con- 
 sidered in itself. The grounds of socialism enumerated 
 by Marx are, as we said, of two kinds. First, there 
 are certain reasons developed in connection with his 
 materialistic view of history ; secondly, there are certain 
 inherent evils in capitalism, which, it is asserted, can 
 only be removed by the abolition of capitalism and the 
 substitution in its place of the socialist system of col- 
 lective industry. The present chapter will be devoted 
 
 * e.g. Vandervelde, op. cit. and Millerand, op. cit. 
 
 VOL. II — II 
 
i62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to the. discussion of Marx's materialistic view of history. 
 In the chapter following we shall consider the argument 
 based on the supposed vices of capitaUsm. 
 
 The Materialistic View of History 
 
 It will be necessary in our discussion of the present 
 argument to differentiate carefully between those points 
 in Marx's view of history which are either irrelevant or of 
 secondary importance, and what is really essential for 
 purposes of our present discussion. It will not be 
 necessary here to discuss the theory of determinism on 
 which Marx bases his philosophy of history. We do 
 not believe that the old problem of freedom versus 
 determinism affects the present question one way or 
 another. There are socialists who are libertarians, and 
 defenders of capitalism who are not, so that we think it 
 right to spare the reader the trouble of entering at this 
 point into a preliminary abstract discussion on freedom. 
 Again, it will not be necessary to discuss the problem 
 raised by Marx whether our social system is the result 
 of economic needs and activities, or, vice versa, whether 
 economic needs and activities result from social institu- 
 tions. Even if we did believe with Marx that men's 
 economic needs were the most fundamental factor in the 
 development of human institutions, the question would 
 still remain whether socialism is lawful and whether 
 it is a good and useful economic system or the 
 opposite. 
 
 But on no principle can we avoid the discussion of the 
 very serious problem which next follows in Marx's 
 argument on history, namely, whether under the influence 
 of forces inherent in capitalism itself, the capital of the 
 world is not being slowly concentrated in fewer and 
 fewer hands, whether a time must not finally arrive 
 when all capital will be owned by one or a few indi- 
 viduals, whether, in short, the competitive capitahst 
 system is not slowly breaking down under the opera- 
 
SOCIALISM 163 
 
 tion of forces inherent in capitalism itself, and whether 
 it must not finally disappear. The weakej and smaller 
 industries, says Marx, are disappearing and must con- 
 tinue to disappear. The lesser undertakings are being 
 and must continue to be absorbed in the greater. The 
 greater are amalgamating with one another and must 
 continue to do so in their own interest. Thus the 
 " magnates of capital " are growing fewer and fewer. 
 After a certain period competition will have wholty 
 passed away. The handing over of ownership by the 
 last few monopolists to the community should not lie 
 beyond the resources of statesmanship ; if it does, the 
 proletariat will not fail to accomplish what statesman- 
 ship shall have failed to achieve. This theory we shall 
 now proceed to examine with such a degree of fullness 
 as the scope of our work allows. 
 
 THE LAW OF INCREASING CONCENTRATION IN THE OWNER- 
 SHIP OF CAPITAL 
 
 Our discussion on this point will be divided as follows : 
 
 I. It will be proved that the smaller industries are 
 not disappearing wholly, or even in very great measure. 
 
 II. That even in the large industries there is no 
 tendency to unlimited concentration such as Marx 
 describes. 
 
 III. That even if there existed in the world of industry 
 a tendency to unlimited concentration, socialism need 
 still not be regarded as the inevitable goal of industrial 
 progress. Between such tendency and the continuance 
 of capitalism there is no opposition of any kind. 
 
 I. The smaller industries not disappearing.* 
 
 Two questions must here be kept apart, that of the 
 land and that of other industries and concerni. 
 
 * It should be remembered our present contention is not vital 
 to our theory in favour of capitalism. Even if all the smaller 
 
i64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The land, taken as a whole, shows no tendency to 
 concentrate in fewer and fewer hands. In one country 
 there will be an increase of large or medium-sized 
 holdings at the expense of the smaller or very small 
 holdings : in another country an opposite tendency is 
 discoverable. Taken altogether, it is generally admitted 
 even by socialists themselves that very little, if any, 
 concentration of ownership occurs in land. 
 
 In England,* between the years 1885-95 there was a large 
 increase in the number of holdings of from five to fifty acres, 
 fifty to one hundred, one hundred to three hundred. There 
 was a decrease an the number of holdings described as large 
 and very large. 
 
 In Germany, Bernstein tells us, between the years 1882 
 and 1895 the relatively greatest increase was in the number 
 of peasant medium-sized holdings (12^-50 acres) : and, lest 
 it might be thought that these small and medium-sized 
 holdings occupy only an insignificant portion of the total 
 agricultural area, he points out that in Germany somewhat 
 " over two-thirds of the total area fall under the three 
 categories of peasant farms," i.e. very small, small, and 
 medium-sized holdings, whilst in Prussia they occupy nearly 
 three-fourths. 
 
 In Holland the statistics of the years 1884-93 show large 
 increases in the number of farms of all sizes below those of 
 125 acres. Decreases occur in the number of larger holdings.! 
 
 In France, between 1862 and 1882, the number of holdings 
 of 12J to 25 acres increased by 24%. 
 
 Writing of America, Sombart tells us J that " the average 
 area of a farm in 1850 was 61.5 acres ; in i860, 51.9 acres ; 
 in 1870, 53.7 acres ; in 1880, 53.1 acres ; in 1890, 57.4 acres ; 
 and in 1900, 49.4 acres. There is no sign of concentration 
 here." 
 
 In Ireland the whole land movement of the last forty years 
 was towards the establishment of peasant owners, in place of 
 the previous large estates parcelled out among mere tenants. 
 The breaking up of what we call the large ranches is still 
 further evidence of the decentralising tendency of land- 
 ownership in Ireland. 
 
 businesses were to disappear there would still be competition amongst 
 the larger owners. 
 
 * Bernstein, " Evolutionary Socialism," ch. II. 
 
 t Bernstein, op. cit. 
 
 J " Socialism and the Social Movement," p. 76. 
 
SOCIALISM 165 
 
 These instances need not be added to, nor need we 
 enter into a discussion of what they Sonvey, since 
 socialists are all agreed that whatever may be said of 
 industry, the land at all events shows no tendency to 
 concentration. " If we consider merely the statistics," 
 writes Kautsky,* " of the area of the different holdings 
 it would seem that agriculture does not change : it is 
 at a stand-still." He goes on, indeed, to show that 
 the land is gradually becoming more tributary to, and 
 dependent on, industry, that the masters of industry 
 now aim at becoming owners of the land, or of such of 
 it as will furnish them with the raw materials of their 
 work, and that in this indirect way, since industry is 
 concentrating, so ownership in the land may also be 
 regarded as concentrating. But even if the land were 
 coming in great measure to be owned (which it is not) 
 by the masters of industry, our contention would still 
 remain that ownership in land is not becoming cen- 
 tralised. The number of holdings is not decreasing but 
 is rather increasing, whatever may be the cause. 
 
 Let us now attempt to deal with other industries and 
 concerns than those connected with the land.f But 
 before dealing with the question whether increase or 
 decrease has taken place in the smaller industries or 
 whether they tend to disappear or become merged in 
 the larger industries, it will be well to point out that it 
 is easy for the imagination to be overwhelmed by the 
 accounts sometimes given by socialists of the capital 
 that is gradually coming to be owned or controlled by 
 the great industries and concerns, by trusts, rings, and 
 companies ; and that a false idea may very easily 
 
 * " Le Marxisme," p. 141. 
 
 t The question wliether the smaller industries are disappearing 
 is really identical with the question whether the total number of 
 existent industries is lessening to a very marked degree. If it is 
 lessening this can only occur, the socialists explain, through the 
 disappearance of the smaller industries. That is why our present 
 discussion is devoted to the question of increase or decrease in the 
 total number of industrial concerns. 
 
i66 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 arise of the actual proportion which trust or company 
 capital bears to the vast capital that remains, even in 
 the most trust-ridden countries, in the hands of small 
 owners. Thus M. Vandervelde lays stress on the fact 
 that the trusts in United States of America (of which 
 there were 353 in May, iqoo), represented a capital of 
 nearly two thousand million pounds. With such an 
 enormous amount of capital absorbed by the trusts it 
 would seem to the superficial observer that very little 
 capital was left for private enterprise. The true 
 significance of the figures, however, is only understood 
 when we remember that in the same year the total 
 capital of the United States represented a sum of i8| 
 thousand million pounds which four years later was 
 increased to 22^ thousand millions.* The trusts, of 
 course, also increased in the same period, but it is to 
 be remembered always that the trusts are very far from 
 absorbing all or nearly all the working capital of the 
 State. We have taken the case of America because it 
 is the country in which conditions are most favourable 
 to the formation of trusts. In his address on American 
 Trusts in 1899, Prof. Ashley says that in that year 
 " hardly a day passed without the formation of some 
 new Trust." In other countries, however, the capital 
 of the trusts and companies represents an even smaller 
 fraction of the total available capital of the country. In 
 Germany the total capital in 1908 was sixteen thousand 
 million pounds. f The paid-up capital of the various 
 companies (only a portion of which could be regarded 
 as akin to trusts) was in 1906 not a thousand millions. 
 Accordingly when we hear of the immense sums that 
 sometimes stand to the credit of the trusts and great 
 companies we must not let our imaginations be deceived 
 and think that there can only be a small margin left to 
 be used by private capitalists. In estimating the value 
 of the trust possessions we must consider not only their 
 
 • Webb, " Dictionary of Statistics," p. 631. 
 ■f Ibid. p. 630. 
 
SOCIALISM 167 
 
 value regarded in themselves, but their value also in 
 relation to the total capital of the nation. * 
 
 Let us now go on to treat of the question of fact raised 
 by the socialists, viz. whether the smaller industries 
 and other undertakings are everywhere disappearing or 
 being absorbed by the very large ; or, which is the same 
 thing, whether the total number of industrial and other 
 undertakings is gradually shrinking, and tending to 
 reach a small minimum, if not to come to something 
 approaching to unity. 
 
 Now it would be idle to deny that in the future, as 
 in the recent past, the greater undertakings (la grande 
 exploitation) are bound to assume a more important 
 r6le in the commercial world, relatively to the smaller.* 
 The reasons for this fact will be given later. Still the 
 evidence of statistics as well as reason itself makes it 
 clear that whilst in certain kinds of undertakings there 
 is a tendency to concentration, in others the tendency is 
 of an opposite kind, so that on the whole it cannot be said 
 that undertakings are subject to any law of shrinkage, 
 and certainly not to the extent described by socialists ; 
 and, therefore, it cannot be said that the smaller under- 
 takings are condemned by economic law to complete or 
 almost complete annihilation. Let us take the case of 
 a country not in any way unfavourable to the formation 
 of large undertakings, viz. Germany. In Germany the 
 number of principal f undertakings was 3,144,457 in 
 the year 1895, the number of persons employed in 
 them being over ten millions. In 1907 the number of 
 
 • We have already said that even if all the smaller industries were 
 to disappear our commercial system would still be competitive and 
 capitalistic just as now. 
 
 f Hauptbetriebe or undertakings which employ persons who 
 obtain therein the main part of their earnings, as opposed to Neben- 
 beiriebe or subordinate undertakings which are only a supplementary 
 source of income. We should point out that, just as there was increase 
 in the principal undertakings mentioned above, so there was increase 
 in the two classes taken together. The total number of undertakings 
 in both classes together in 1895 was 3,658,088 ; in 1907 it was 4,025,591. 
 What are here called " principal " undertakings (the word is used in 
 the statistical tables) include, of course, both large and small businesses. 
 
i68 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 principal undertakings was 3,423,645, and the number 
 of persons employed over fourteen millions.* In spite, 
 therefore, of an undeniable increase, which can be seen 
 in the statistical tables, in the number of large under- 
 takings it is not easy to see that the period of years, 
 1895-1907, exhibits any unequivocal tendency towards 
 complete centralisation or towards centralisation at all. 
 But, lest it might be thought that in point of the 
 numbers employed, the increase that has taken place in 
 the number of large or very large undertakings is of 
 much greater importance than that exhibited by under- 
 takings of small or medium size, and that, therefore, 
 the increase of small undertakings is overshadowed by 
 that of the larger, we give the following detailed table 
 for Prussia, a part of Germany which is most favourable 
 to the larger firms. f 
 
 " The figures," writes Bernstein, " of the (German) 
 Imperial census of 1907 are not yet known, so far as the 
 development in regard to size is concerned. But the figures 
 for Prussia are known and they can be taken as a fair average 
 for the whole Empire. They show for industry and commerce 
 together (without railways, post, and telegraphs) the follow- 
 ing figures : — 
 
 Establishments 
 
 Numbers 
 
 Persons Employed 
 
 
 1895 
 
 1907 
 
 1895 1907 
 
 quite small (i person 
 
 
 
 
 
 only) 
 
 1,029,954 
 
 955,707 
 
 1,029,954 
 
 955,707 
 
 small (2-5 persons) 
 
 593,884 
 
 767,200 
 
 1,638,205 
 
 2,038,236 
 
 medium (6-50 persons) . 
 
 108,800 
 
 154,300 
 
 1,390,745 
 
 2,109,164 
 
 great (51-100 persons) . 
 
 10,127 
 
 17,287 
 
 1,217,085 
 
 2,095,065 
 
 very great (501-1,000 
 
 
 
 
 
 persons) 
 
 380 
 
 602 
 
 261,507 
 
 424,587 
 
 giant (5,001 persons and 
 
 
 
 
 
 over) 
 
 191 
 
 371 
 
 338,585- 
 5,876,081 
 
 710,253 
 
 
 1,743,336 
 
 1,895,467 
 
 8,333,012 
 
 * Webb, op. cit., p. 317. 
 
 ■f Bernstein, " Evolutionary Socialism," p. 57, note. 
 
SOCIALISM 169 
 
 In this table it is only the " garret-workers," the 
 quite small or very small enterprises that show a de- 
 crease. In the case of the small, medium-siaed, and 
 great industries, the increase in the number of persons 
 employed is greater than that which occurs in connection 
 with the very great and giant industries. But if the 
 small, medium-sized and great industries, or even the 
 two latter, continue to increase in number, then it is 
 absurd to think that competitive capitalism is disap- 
 pearing from our midst or that our present system is 
 moving towards anything in the nature of an all-absorb- 
 ing monopoly. 
 
 We make no apology for the following lengthy quota- 
 tion from a well-known socialist writer * on the relation 
 of the Marxian theory to actual fact : — 
 
 " Marx over-estimated the speed at which capital tended 
 to concentrate. The pre-capitalist forms are not swept 
 away as rapidly as Marx thought, nor do the giant organisa- 
 tions make such general progress as he foreshadowed, even 
 in those branches of industry where the tendencies in that 
 direction are great. To-day in Germany, according to the 
 last census, there are (leaving out all agricultural pursuits) 
 4,770,669 persons employed in small establishments, i.e. 
 establishments employing one to five persons. When we 
 remember that the whole industrial army numbers some 
 ten million people, it is apparent that the employees in 
 ' small ' establishments number nearly half. This refers to 
 industry alone. In commercial pursuits the proportion is 
 about two-thirds. Indeed, between 1882 and 1895 there 
 was an increase of 10 per cent, in the population connected 
 with the ' small ' industrial concerns, and in commerce the 
 increase in the corresponding class was nearly 50 per cent, 
 for the same period. The conditions in other lands are the 
 same.] 
 
 " Some scholars have rightly asserted . . . that these 
 ' small businesses ' are really dependent on capitalism. 
 
 * Werner Sombart, Professor of Political Economy at the Handel- 
 shochschule in Berlin — " Socialism and the Socialist Movement " 
 (1909), p. 74- 
 
 t Italics ours. 
 
170 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Even so their existence stands in the way of complete ac- 
 ceptance of Marx's theory of concentration. The same 
 holds good with regard to the development of capitalist 
 undertakings. The concentration here is a much slower 
 process than Marx assumed. It is true that the large con- 
 cerns increase much more quickly than those of middle 
 size, partly at the expense of the latter.* But the middle- 
 sized ones still continue. In 1895 there were almost as 
 many people employed in these (again leaving agriculture 
 out of account) as in the large ones — two and a half against 
 three millions. From 1882 to 1895 there was an increase 
 in them of over 76 per cent., which was almost as large as 
 the increase in the ' large ' concerns — over 88 per cent." 
 
 We claim, therefore, that experience and actual 
 statistics do not favour the view that under the capitalist 
 system the smaller industries are doomed to total or 
 nearly total extinction. 
 
 And what experience and actual fact attest is borne 
 out also by our reason. It is most unlikely that the 
 smaller businesses should ever disappear automatically 
 or solely under stress of competition. For, first, the 
 large businesses themselves create the necessity for 
 certain smaller accessory trades and concerns which 
 are in very many cases f better undertaken by other 
 independent persons. They are better undertaken by 
 independent firms, first, because the quality of the work 
 may be such as requires specialisation, as in the woollen 
 trade where, as Hobson says, " strong differences of 
 quality occur " giving rise to " nmch specialisation " : 
 and secondlj^ because no business firm could afford to 
 allow its work to become too complex — " we must 
 conclude," writes Hobson, " that as for every class of 
 business there exists at any given time a normal size 
 
 •The reader must still remember what we stated, p. if^, that 
 even if only the large undertakings survived they might still be as 
 competitive as present concerns are. 
 
 t I" some cases, especially the American trusts, a single business 
 will combine different processes ; but, as we show in the text, this is 
 far from general. See Hobson, " Evolution of Captialism," ch. VI. 
 2, 3 ; ch. VIII. 12. 
 
SOCIALISM 171 
 
 of maximum efficiency, so there exists a normal degree 
 of complexity." Thus no railway company would 
 attempt to make all those things that are required for 
 the construction of engines and carriages. Specialisa- 
 tion then is an absolute necessity in the case of innumer- 
 able branches of industry. Secondly, a great number 
 of trades are better adapted for small industries than 
 for large, e.g. certain kinds of wood- or leather-work, 
 particularly those of the more artistic type, photography, 
 the making of delicate instruments. Thirdly, there are 
 innumerable departments of trade in which some degree 
 of proximity of producer to consumer is a necessity, 
 for instance, bakeries, confectioneries, laundries, dairies ; 
 to some extent proximity has also its advantages for 
 tailor, shoemaker, and saddler ; the warehouse in all 
 departments must be near to the consumer. In all 
 such cases the tendency is of necessity not in the direc- 
 tion of unification. Fourthly, in all departments of 
 trade care and energy are a necessity, and these are 
 more easily secured in businesses of small compass, and 
 will enable the smaller firm to compete successfully with 
 those of very large dimensions, even in spite of the many 
 advantages attaching to large-scale industry. 
 
 Let us enunciate the conclusions to which we are 
 led on the question of the fate of the small industries. 
 In many departments, it is to be admitted, it is necessary 
 that the smaller businesses should disappear as unable 
 to stand the strain of competition with, or undertake 
 the work possible to, the larger firms. But in other 
 departments the smaller businesses remain and are 
 likely to remain, not, as E. Vandervelde describes them, 
 as inferior, stagnant, miserable, and wholly accidental 
 encumbrances, but as a valuable and substantive portion 
 of our economic system. It would be difficult to give 
 anything of the nature of a rule showing the kinds of 
 business that tend to concentration, and those that 
 resist absorption with or destruction by the mammoth 
 
172 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 firms. But taking the census statistics of the United 
 States in 1900 and in 1905 * it is possible to show in 
 what particular factory-indusiries increase occurred in 
 the number of firms, and where decrease is shown. 
 It is impossible, of course, to say whether these increases 
 and decreases denote permanent tendencies. The facts 
 are, however, that increases occurred in the number of 
 factory-industries in connection with the following : 
 food and kindred products ; cotton textiles ; worsted 
 textiles ; iron, steel and other products ; paper and 
 printing ; liqiiors and beverages ; chemical and allied 
 products ; tobacco ; miscellaneous. Decreases occurred 
 in connection with woollen textiles ; lumber and pro- 
 ducts ; leather and products ; clay, glass and stone 
 products ; vehicles for land transport ; ship-building. 
 It will be seen that the former class of factory-industry 
 is not less important than the latter. Indeed, if we 
 might judge by the number of hands employed by those 
 industries where increases occurred in the number of 
 firms, as compared with the number of hands employed 
 where decreases occurred, the advantage in point of 
 the number of men employed is with the former. Thus 
 in 1905 the total number of wage-earners employed in 
 the former class of firms was a little below three millions, 
 whilst those employed in the latter class numbered less 
 than two millions. In Germany (here the statistical 
 tables cover a wider range of undertakings than factory- , 
 industries) we find that between the years 1895 and 
 1907 increases in the number of undertakings occurred 
 in gardening ; cattle-rearing and fishing ; mining ; 
 engineering ; chemical industries ; foods ; cleaning ; 
 building ; commercial ; transport (excluding railways, 
 post, and telegraphic) business ; hotels and restaurants. 
 Decreases occurred in quarrying, metal working, 
 textiles, woodworking, clothing. The. number of persons 
 
 * Webb, op. cit. 322. In the comparison that follows we have 
 not made any arbitrary selection of industries for the purpose of 
 establishing our own contention. We simply take the full list of 
 industries as given by Webb in his statistical tables. 
 
SOCIALISM 173 
 
 employed in the first set of undertakings was (in 1907) 
 nearly nine millions ; that in the second Class was 
 nearly five millions. The least conclusion to be drawn 
 is that the departments in which concentration is not 
 the rule, are not to be regarded as insignificant as com- 
 pared with those in which concentration appears. 
 
 As to the future it would be difficult to make any 
 prophecy. In some cases the smaller industries may 
 disappear and monopolies may easily be effected. For 
 instance, only the very largpst firms are capable of 
 building battleships. On the other hand, in hotels, in 
 spite of the growth of large establishments, the smaller 
 and medium-sized establishments must continue to 
 increase. But, whatever the future may bring, it is 
 certain that the statistics to hand afford no proof that 
 at present, in spite of the long period which has elapsed 
 since Marx made his prophecy, the tendency of industrj' 
 is in the direction of the total or almost total elimination 
 of the smaller businesses.* 
 
 II. The tendency, even amongst the larger industries, 
 is not in the direction of unlimited centralisation. 
 
 This proposition means that even if there are, inherent 
 in industry, certain tendencies towards greater centralisa- 
 tion, and even if the smaller businesses were to disap- 
 pear, being absorbed in the large businesses, a point 
 is uniformly reached where tendencies of an opposite 
 kind appear which check and hinder further centralisa- 
 tion. 
 
 At the outset let us explain that we are here dealing 
 
 * The reader will find replies to some of our arguments in Kautsky's 
 " Le Marxisme." For instance, Kautsky claims that Marx did not 
 predict an absolute decrease in the number of capitalists, but, only 
 a relative decrease, i.e. that they would decrease in proportion to 
 the population. This contention is quite incorrect. Marx goes so 
 far as to tell us that " one capitalist always kills many," which certainly 
 means absolute decrease. Also it is only on the theory of absolute 
 decrease that we can understand his theory that as the number of 
 capitalists decreases the exploitation of the workman grows. 
 
174 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 with noiinal healthy competition only. We are trying 
 to determine the inherent natural tendency of competitive 
 capitalism, and the natural tendency of anything can 
 only be determined by reference to normal healthy 
 subjects. The business of a bankrupt, careless, or 
 inefficient trader has no other tendency but to disappear, 
 and to promote unification of ownership by its own 
 disappearance. Also a very strong firm may under 
 certain circumstances be able to knock out a very weak 
 one.* But these cases do not prove that capitalism 
 as such tends to disappear, or that the number of 
 capitalists by a law of capitalism tends to shrink to 
 unity, just as it does not follow that because a weak 
 man dies or a strong man may kill him, therefore, 
 humanity tends to disappear. The question which we 
 have here to answer is whether it is possible to discover 
 any law whereby healthy and efficient firms tend, 
 without limitation, to become reduced in numbers by 
 amalgamation and the formation of single monopolies. 
 Some writers maintain that such a law exists — a law, 
 namely, of further and further concentration and ex- 
 tension, many large firms uniting to form still larger 
 firms, t until finally a monopoly is effected. This law 
 of monopoly-formation, it is stated, is based on the 
 fact that in business all men seek their own advantage, 
 and, it is contended, in business the advantages are all 
 on the side of concentration. The following are some 
 of these advantages : [a] in the purchase of raw materials 
 or of machinery, etc., the bigger the purchase "the lower 
 the price ; (&) the larger the consignment of goods, the 
 lower the freightage ; (c) the larger the concern, the 
 
 * This is the way in which Marx conceived the shrinkage in the 
 number of owners to be principally brought about. The more up-to- 
 date socialists lay emphasis rather on voluntary aggregation of 
 industries under stress of competition and the desire of traders to 
 increase profits by lessening expenses. 
 
 t The reader should remember that we have now done with the 
 question whether the small and very small firms tend to disappear. 
 Our present discussion is whether amongst larger concerns there is a 
 tendency to greater concentration^ 
 
SOCIALISM 175 
 
 smaller, relatively, are the fixed charges ; the staff of 
 employees, e.g. will relatively not be so great, adver- 
 tising not so necessary ; {d) the larger the revenue the 
 higher the efficiency of the plant it is possible to acquire ; 
 (e) the greater the reserve of capital the longer it is 
 possible to wait for more opportune and better markets ; 
 (/) a monopoly, whilst it can depress the price of raw 
 material, can also inflate that of the manufactured 
 article ; (g) finally, some one firm is always sure to be 
 stronger than the rest, and it cannot be an advantage 
 to the weaker ones to stand up permanently against it — 
 they must in the end succumb.* These arguments would 
 seem to establish the view that industry is subject to 
 certain forces making for unlimited concentration. 
 
 But though the existence of such a tendency is certain, 
 nevertheless both reason and experience impel us to 
 believe that in industry and commerce there are certain 
 counter tendencies at work that check and hinder 
 centralisation, sometimes even leading to disintegration 
 in a hitherto unified business. 
 
 (a) The principal factor in the second or decentralising 
 group of influences is psychological in character. Men 
 are naturally possessed of a stubborn desire to retain 
 their possessions in their own hands and not to relinquish 
 them or entrust them to the care of another for any 
 prospective advantage, however apparently certain. 
 There is always risk and uncertainty in throwing in one's 
 lot with others. The apparently most efficient partner 
 often fails to come up to promise. In partnerships 
 there are often divided and opposing interests. The 
 man, therefore, who has put much of his own energies 
 and savings into a concern is not easily induced to 
 share it with another. He will prefer to keep it in his 
 
 * Although this last argument does not really fall within the 
 terms of our discussion which refers rather to healthy, prosperous 
 concerns than to others, still we are sure that some reference to the 
 matter will not be disallowed by the reader. 
 
176 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 own hands, even with the sacrifice of possible gain. But 
 apart altogether from the danger inherent in amalgama- 
 tion with others, it is certain that men of energy and 
 enterprise will always prove to be natural enemies to 
 concentration, unless, indeed, it be concentration under 
 themselves. Homo faber fortunae suae is as true in 
 industry as in any other branch of human activity. 
 Even, therefore, if the temptation to amalgamation 
 should ever arise, the sense of mastership and of creative 
 power in the handling and development of one's own 
 business will always serve amongst the best business 
 men to counteract such tendencies, and to hinder the 
 formation of common, as opposed to individual private 
 firms ; (6) efficiency and extent ■ of business are often 
 found to be in inverse ratio ; (c) this is particularly 
 true of cases in which profits depend on the intensity of 
 the labour applied rather than upon the extent of the 
 possessions owned ; (i) where the work of a firm is 
 marked by some special advantage or excellence there 
 is generally no tendency towards amalgamation with 
 other firms, except as a result of accident. These 
 special excellences may arise from a variety of causes, 
 such as the possession of a special patent ; long-standing 
 tradition in those finer kinds of work in which good 
 instinctive judgment is required ; some particular 
 quality of soil or water ; proximity to a mine, or port, 
 or quarry ; all these circumstances may act as an 
 incentive to hinder concentration : (e) where the capital 
 cost is small as in the tin industries of Wales, and where 
 the raw materials can be purchased by one firm as 
 cheaply as by another, any rise in prices or profits which 
 a monopoly may bring must necessarily attract others 
 into the market, and even the prospect of this occurring 
 will act as a preventive of amalgamations and conse- 
 quently of monopolies ; * (/) finally, there is the possibility 
 of active interference on the part of the community, 
 which will never allow the crushing process to go beyond 
 * Levy, " Monopoly and Competition," p. 276. 
 
SOCIALISM l^^ 
 
 a certain point. Tlie vast unpopularity which trusts 
 have already incurred shows that the "populace are 
 not going to acquiesce in total subjection to financier 
 or set of financiers or to business bosses controlling the 
 whole country. The love of liberty and independence 
 which is one of the great obstacles to socialism has thus 
 already done much to bar the process of complete 
 unification on which socialists have counted as their 
 chief source of hope for the final abolition of capitalism. 
 
 ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF UNLIMITED CONCENTRATION 
 ANSWERED 
 
 Our statement (given on p. 174) as to the advantages of 
 the very large business, needs to be corrected in many ways 
 in order to be brought into harmony With the facts. In 
 the process of extending a business it is possible to reach a 
 point where advantage ceases and disadvantage begins. 
 Let us take these supposed advantages in order. First, large 
 purchases, it is said, can be made at smaller prices. Now 
 this is only generally true. As often as not the larger the 
 purchase the higher the price that must be paid. It is 
 easy enough to buy up a small plot of ground ; but the man 
 who wishes to buy up all the land in a district might have 
 to pay a heavy price fer acre for his purchase. And such a 
 rise in price, where a monopoly is being established, may 
 occur even in the case of commodities not limited in quantity 
 as the land is. Professor Ely in his work, " Monopohes and 
 Trusts," * narrates how a daring Chicago operator in attempt- 
 ing to capture the whole available market in a certain com- 
 modity was ruined by having the price raised on him during 
 the operation of purchase. Again, a monopoly may force 
 the producer of raw materials to sell at an extraordinarily 
 low price, but only provided that the raw materials are not 
 themselves in the hands of another monopoly. The multi- 
 plication of monopolies in alUed businesses may harden 
 prices as well as lowering them. Secondly, it is contended 
 that the large consignments involve lower freightage. - But 
 this is true only for a very limited increase in the amount 
 of the consignment. A man pays less per ton for a consign- 
 ment of ten tons than for a consignment of one. But the 
 
 * p. 164. We are much indebted to Prof. Ely's work for much 
 of the matter of this section. 
 
 VOL. 11 — 12 
 
178 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 rate per waggon on a railway is, as a rule, the same whether 
 one sends twenty waggons or only two. Thirdly, there is 
 the question of the fixed charges. It is certain that some of 
 these must diminish or perhaps disappear with the formation 
 of monopolies. The need of advertising and of travellers 
 will certainly be less. In other respects it is found that the 
 fixed charges may even increase with the size of the concern. 
 The system of book-keeping becomes more complicated, 
 larger, and more expensive as the business grows. Large 
 businesses involve the payment of highly skilled managers 
 who would not be required for separate smaller concerns. 
 In the small businesses there are no directors' fees. Also, 
 in the smaller concerns one man may be put to many tasks : 
 if work is slack in one department he goes to another ; whereas 
 in large businesses all work is specialised, and, therefore, 
 whole departments may be idle and still require to be kept 
 fully staffed. Again, one of the chief fixed charges in any 
 concern is that of " plant." In some cases, indeed, a single 
 large plant can be worked more cheaply than many small 
 ones. Fewer attendants, for instance, will be required. 
 But in other respects the fixed charges remain the same. 
 Thus, often the enlarging of a plant means the employment 
 of twenty machines instead of ten, but the cost of wear and 
 tear in each n^achine is the same in both cases. Sometimes 
 even the enlargement of the plant involves the employment 
 of more costly machinery. The cheap oil-engine used to 
 generate electricity in a small establishment will not suffice 
 even if enlarged to supply lighting to a town. Again, it is 
 cheaper to light a large area than a small one. But a limit 
 can be reached when the cost of transmission becomes 
 excessive, and then the rule of the benefits of the more ex- 
 tended area fails to hold. On this whole question of the 
 fixed charges, the argument has even been used,* that under 
 certain conditions the law of diminishing returns may operate 
 against the further extension of a particular business. We 
 do not know whether this is generally true in case of extension 
 by amalgamation. But we believe that it holds as regards 
 the improved quality of the plant required where a business 
 has grown beyond a certain point. In other words, a point 
 may be reached in expenditure on machinery where the 
 returns on capital outlay begin to diminish. Fourthly, it 
 is not true that the greater the amount that is spent on 
 
 * Prof. Chapman, " Political Economy," p. 80. The argument is 
 of course in our favour. 
 
SOCIALISM 179 
 
 plant, the greater the efficiency. We soon reach the maximum 
 of efficiency in any machine. A small m^fhine sufficing 
 for a small business may be quite as efficient as a large one 
 used in greater concerns. Fifthly, it is true that the rich 
 man can afford to wait for better opportunities, but there 
 are limits to waiting, and limits to the usefulness of large 
 capital in enabhng one to wait. Sixthly, a monopolist cannot 
 always, as we have already seen, depress the price at which 
 raw material is purchased ; and there is a limit to the extent 
 to which he can inflate the selhng price of manufactured 
 articles. This limit is determined by the people's means 
 and the dispensableness of the article. A small competing 
 firm may obtain that maximum as well as the monopolist. 
 Seventhly, it is only under quite abnormal conditions that 
 monopolies and trusts come into being through the wholesale 
 destruction of smaller businesses. It is only under the most 
 abnormal conditions that men will be wilhng to engage in 
 the almost suicidal race for victory which such destructive 
 competition involves. The risk and uncertainty are too 
 great at the start ; the actual loss is such as could be borne 
 only under abnormal economic conditions. 
 
 We may sum up by saying that there are operative 
 in the world forces which promote and forces which 
 retard concentration. Also there are departments in 
 which some degree of monopoly may be effected, and 
 departments in which monopoly is out of the question. 
 " So far," writes Ely, "as we now see we have a large 
 field belonging to monopoly ; but outside of this field 
 we have another in which under right conditions com- 
 petition is a permanent social force." And Prof. Chap- 
 man writes : "It would be a mistake to draw the 
 inference that competition has been so outflanked that 
 it must yifeld in bulk to combination. All businesses 
 are not suited to any degree of unified control, and 
 while in one state of development or of trade conditions, 
 an industry may lend itself to monopolisation, in another 
 set of circumstances forces which bring about its dis- 
 integration may as surely be generated." It is, indeed, 
 possible that in many trades the limits of centralisation 
 have already been overstepped. In his work, " Trusts 
 
i8o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 in the United States," * Von Halle explains that it is 
 not uncommon for industries that had become centralised 
 to decentralise again for the greater economic advantage 
 offered by the smaller system. We have, therefore, no 
 difficulty in committing ourselves to the view that in 
 the capitalist system there is no inherent and irre- 
 sistible tendency to unlimited centralisation. Com- 
 petition will always tend to continue as long as trade 
 continues. 
 
 III. Whatever may he the tendency to concentration in 
 industry it is not in the direction of socialism, and will not 
 facilitate the advent of socialism. 
 
 Our proof of this proposition will be stated as briefly 
 as possible. Let us suppose for a moment that the forces 
 of centralisation exercise such exclusive or such a pre- 
 dominant control in the field of industry and commerce 
 that centralisation must of necessity proceed to a 
 maximum. What then ? Is socialism inevitable, or is 
 its advent, as each degree of centralisation is attained, 
 facilitated to any serious or to any extent ? There is 
 not the slightest reason for thinking so. Between 
 centralisation, in the sense in which it actually occurs 
 in industry, and socialism, there is not only difference 
 but opposition. Both, indeed, aim at effecting a greater 
 degree of unity. But the " unities " at which they 
 aim are very different. The unity which is now being 
 effected by amalgamation in industries is a unity not 
 of ownership but of management and action. That at 
 which socialism aims is, above all things, unity of owner- 
 ship. Under the socialist regime there will be no such 
 thing as distinct, independent, individual ownership in 
 capital. The State, the community, will be the universal 
 owner. Let us see how ownership is affected by the 
 process of centralisation now operating in industry — 
 that process by which in the opinion of socialists the 
 
 *p. 141. 
 
SOCIALISM i8i 
 
 transition from individual to common ownership is 
 every day brought nearer and rendered •more certain. 
 If all centralising operations consisted in the formation 
 of immense trusts with but few owners then, no doubt, 
 centralisation might gmdually set up such a set of con- 
 ditions that the buying out or violent extermination of 
 owners by the community and the taking over of all 
 capital by the State would be comparatively easy of 
 accomplishment. But this is not the case. For the 
 most part centralisation consists in the amalgamation 
 of many large industries without any reduction in, 
 and often with increase in the number of owners. In 
 1890 the firm of J. & S. Coats, of Paisley, was formed 
 into a limited company with a capital of 5^5,750,000. 
 The result was an increase in the number of owners, 
 not decrease. Then began that series of amalgamations 
 to which socialists appeal as proof that individual capital 
 is being slowly ehminated, that there is constant diminu- 
 tion of the " magnates of capital." * After absorbing 
 Kerr & Co., of Paisley, in 1895, an amalgamation was 
 negotiated in 1896 with three of their chief rivals, 
 Clarke & Co., of Paisley; Chadwick & Co., of Bolton; 
 James Brook & Co., of Milthan. For this purpose 
 £4,000,000 of fresh capital was raised, j Here is a case 
 of amalgamation of many firms into one. It is one of 
 the standard cases appealed to by socialists. What is 
 effected, however, is unity of management, not of 
 ownership. The number of owners is not decreased. 
 In December, 1897, the English Sewing Cotton Co., to 
 which also socialists make constant reference, was 
 floated, consisting of an amalgamation of fifteen firms. 
 Fifteen firms were turned into one, but the number of 
 owners was, again, not decreased. The Bradford Dyers' 
 Association, was formed in 1898, and made to embrace 
 twenty-two firms with a capital of £4,500,000. It had 
 for a long time practically a monopoly of the dyeing 
 
 * The words are those of Marx. 
 I Contemporary Review, June, 1899. 
 
1 82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 business in England, but its former twenty-two sets of 
 owners remain. 
 
 The absurdity of quoting large newly formed com- 
 panies as instances of phenomenal centralisation, and 
 as clear proof of the irresistible approach of public in 
 lieu of private individual ownership will easily be seen 
 when we consider the number of shareholders that own 
 between them the various trusts on which socialists 
 build their case for socialism. Bernstein mentions the 
 English " Sewing Thread Trust " as counting no less 
 than 12,300 shareholders ; the trust of Spinners of 
 fine Cotton comprises 5,324 shareholders ; the share- 
 holders of the Manchester Canal Co. number 40,000 ; 
 those of T. Lipton number 74,262 ; Spiers and Pond, of 
 London, has its 4,560 shareholders ; five businesses * 
 (Guinness, Bass, etc.) are in the hands of 27,000 share- 
 holders. Railways often secure a monopoly of the 
 carrying trade in a particular area. But they will'have 
 thousands of shareholders. In Oldham f there are 
 numerous co-operative spinning mills, owned entirely by 
 the workmen. There is a capital of close on £8,000,000. 
 It is stated that a thousand operatives in those mills 
 are worth from £1,000 to £2,000 each. We should like 
 to know what the Oldham spinners would say if they 
 were told that by adopting the principle of co-operation 
 they were proving themselves most generous to the 
 public in implicitly handing over or preparing the way 
 for the future handing over of all their property to the 
 State. 
 
 The formation of large companies then is not to be 
 regarded as proof of gradual shrinkage in the number of 
 owners. On the contrary, company-formation often 
 means disintegration and increase in the number of 
 owners instead of concentration and shrinkage. Large 
 businesses often become too big for management by 
 the one or two individuals who gave them birth. They 
 
 * Date of Bernstein's work, 1899. 
 
 t !R^e, " Contemporary Socialism," p. 338. 
 
SOCIALISM 183 
 
 are then turned into companies with many owners. 
 Even after the formation of such companies*the number 
 of shareholders generally continues to grow, sometimes 
 with issue of new capital, sometimes without. Taking 
 twelve companies at random, but representing com- 
 pletely different kinds of business, Viscount Goschen * 
 shows that in the years 1876-86 the number of share- 
 holders increased from 11,667 to 20,083. We have no 
 doubt that if a census were taken in any country now, 
 and compared with the tables of ten years ago, it would 
 be found that the number of owners of capital had 
 increased enormously, not only absolutely, but in pro- 
 portion to increase in population during that period ; 
 and they would be found so to have increased even if 
 the number of firms had decreased in either or both of 
 the ways mentioned. 
 
 There is another point that we cannot afford to lose 
 sight of in this connection. The essence of capitalism 
 lies not so much in the fact that there are many owners 
 as in the fact that owners are free to save and invest 
 their savings as they will. Even under socialism men 
 could own what they receive from the State, but they 
 could not invest as they will what they receive and 
 own. Now, even though a law of concentration in 
 industry such as Marx describes really existed, it could 
 in no wise be regarded as hastening the advance of 
 socialism ; for, even if all industries were concentrated 
 in one huge trust, every member would be free to save 
 and to buy more shares, and to draw more profits or 
 dividends from his investments. Such a form of com- 
 munity might or might not be an improvement on the 
 present condition of things, but it would be very far 
 removed from socialism. 
 
 In two ways socialists might attempt to claim that 
 centralisation must of necessity lead to socialism. 
 
 * " Essays and Addresses on Economic Questions," p. 257, 
 
i84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 First, under the influence of concentrative laws our 
 present system might develop into socialism. But this 
 cannot be the case. Centralisation is in the direction 
 rather of increase in the number of private owners 
 than decrease ; and, as we have just seen, centralisation 
 still leaves intact the right of free private investment 
 which sociaUsm totally disallows. Secondly, it might 
 be claimed that as the number of capitalist undertakings 
 diminishes they will the more easily succumb to violent 
 expropriation when the time for violent action arrives. 
 But this cannot happen unless the number of owners 
 decreases also ; and we have seen that such is not the 
 case. What is more, the proletariat, as we have also 
 seen, is itself fast coming to own large amounts of 
 company capital. Thousands and thousands of the 
 proletariat in England, America, France, and Germany 
 are capitalists on a small scale. Should expropriation 
 ever be attempted, it will be found that this latter body 
 of capitalists will be in a position to offer to their expro- 
 priators an even firmer and more effective, because 
 better organised, resistance than would be possible under 
 the older system of isolated individual capitalism. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 SOCIALISM 
 
 The Marxian Arguments— (Continued) 
 
 Nor only according to Marx is private ownership in 
 capital * certain to disappear because of its own inherent 
 tendency to greater and greater concentration, the effect 
 of which is gradually to eliminate the competitive 
 element from commerce and industry — it is also bound 
 to disappear because of certain evils resident in private 
 capitalism, the effect of which evils must in time be 
 to move the proletariat irresistibly to combine and 
 organise for its destruction. The first of these evils 
 Marx discusses under the heading, " the surplus-value 
 of labour " ; others are : the necessity of crises under 
 capitalism, the capitalist exploitation of labour, the 
 " reserve army " of labour or increased unemployment, 
 and, finally, the " iron law of wages." The present 
 chapter is devoted to a discussion of these five argu- 
 ments. 
 
 The Surplus-Value of Labour 
 
 The argument based on " surplus-value " holds the 
 chief place in Marx's celebrated indictment of capitalism. 
 Briefly it is as follows : — all wealth is produced by labour. 
 By labour here is meant, not any form of human effort, 
 
 * We wish, at the very beginning of this chapter, to point out that 
 our defence of " capitalism " is a defence of the private ownership of 
 the means of production. We have no desire to bolster up capitalism 
 in the sense in which that word is often at present understood, viz. 
 the possession of the means of production by a few rich men, and the 
 exclusion of all others from those means. We maintain that the 
 greater the number of persons in possession of the means of produc- 
 tion, and particularly the land, the better for all. 
 
i86 THE SCIENCE QF ETHICS 
 
 but manual labour, the labour of the working classes. 
 The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the houses in 
 which we live, are all products of labour. Labour tills 
 the soil, prepares it, drains it, sows the seed and reaps 
 the harvest. Labour extracts the metallic ore from 
 the earth, purifies it, works up the raw materials of 
 machinery, puts the parts together, and works the 
 machine. It is labour that sows the flax, spins the yarn, 
 furnishes the finished garment. There is nothing used 
 or produced in industry that is not directly or indirectly 
 a result of labour, and of labour exclusively. Labour, 
 then, is the sole factor in the production of wealth. 
 
 Now a man, Marx continues, has a right to what he 
 himself produces, and, therefore, all the products of 
 industry belong rightfully to labour. Thus there is not 
 a pennyworth of value produced in the industrial 
 world that does not belong by the most original and 
 natural of all titles of ownership to the working classes. 
 Do the working classes receive this value ? Far from 
 it. That is not what the labouring classes are employed 
 for. The labourer is employed to make money for 
 the capitalist ; and he makes money for the capitalist 
 by being himself deprived of the major portion of what 
 he produces. The labourer receives a bare subsistence 
 wage. In two or three days he can, and does produce 
 goods to the value of that subsistence wage. The rest 
 of the week's produce goes to the capitalist. It is to 
 this remainder that Marx gives the name — the " surplus- 
 value " of labour. The capitalist system, he submits, 
 since it not only allows but is intrinsically dependent on 
 the creation of surplus-value, is unjust and intolerable.* 
 
 * Marx also maintains that labour is the measure of all value. 
 It is not necessary for us here to discuss the Marxian theory of value, 
 beyond saying that no modern writer would maintain that labour is 
 the sole or the fundamental determinant of value. The fundamental 
 determinant of value consists in the capacity of an object for satisfying 
 human needs ; value is measured by the utilities of an object, and 
 its utilities mean its capacity for satisfjring needs — (See Aristotle, 
 " Nich. Ethics," V. 5). Modern writers express the same doctrine 
 ■yvjien they ssiy that v9,lue-in-exchange is measured by marginal 
 
SOCIALISM 187 
 
 Our criticism of this theory of surplus-value will 
 consist in establishing the following propositicn : — 
 
 Labour in the Marxian sense, i.e. manual labour, is 
 not the sole or the chief factor in the production of modern 
 wealth. 
 
 Putting aside certain kinds of wealth which nobodj' 
 regards as products of mere manual labour, e.g. paintings 
 and statuary, and confining our attention to what is 
 known as industrial Wealth proper, such as food, clothing, 
 and the ordinary articles of commerce, we are inclined 
 to assent to the Marxian theory so far as to admit that 
 before the rise of capitalism, the wealth of the world 
 was in the main the result of manual labour. It was not 
 wholly outside the capacity of the ordinary workman 
 to devise the means of production then at his disposal, e.g. 
 the hand-loom and the wooden plough, and it certainly 
 was part of his province to fashion and to use those 
 instruments. The labourer made the plough and 
 ploughed the land. The labourer constructed the hand- 
 loom, produced the cloth, and furnished the finished 
 garment. Labour, skilled and unskilled, was the chief 
 factor in production in those anciervt days.* 
 
 But labour is not the chief factor of production now. 
 Labour cannot account for the enormous productiveness 
 of modern industry, and, therefore, it is not the sole 
 or the chief factor in the production of wealth. Labour, 
 indeed, is necessary for production now as always ; 
 but another factor has now to be considered to which, 
 
 utility, i.e. a man will usually buy at any level that will afford him at 
 least a minimum of utility. It is the same with selling. 
 
 Labour, we admit, is one of the most important of all the de- 
 terminants of value, for labour is the chief element in cost of pro- 
 duction, and cost of production is one of the chief factors in determining 
 the level at which it is useful to buy or sell. But labour is not the 
 only determinant of value ; there is, for instance, also the price of 
 the raw materials, a price which is not wholly determined by the 
 labour of producing or extracting these materials. 
 
 * It does not follow that labour had a right to all the wealth of 
 the world in ancient times. Labour, as we have already seen (p. 143), 
 is only one out of many titles, of ownership. 
 
i88 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 much more than to labour, the effectiveness of modem 
 industry is directly attributable. To this second factor 
 is given the name " ability " — a name which has been 
 specially designed to signify those particular talents 
 and powers that are employed in the invention of 
 machinery, in the creation and management of great 
 industrial undertakings, and in the direction of labour, 
 which talents and powers, all will agree, are quite 
 distinct both in kind and degree from any form of 
 capacity which the manual worker is ever called upon 
 to employ.* 
 
 That labour in the Marxian sense, i.e. manual labour, 
 does not account for the enormous productiveness of 
 modern industry may be established in two ways, first, 
 by showing what labour itself without the help of the 
 modern inventor and director of industry is capable 
 of achieving (we shall show that it falls far short of the 
 productiveness of modem industry) : secondly, by 
 analysing the factors engaged in modem industry, and 
 showing how small is the part played by labour in com- 
 parison with the other elements contributing to the 
 result. In this way we shall disprove the title of labour 
 to be the sole or the chief factor in the production of 
 modern wealth. 
 
 First, it is possible to determine the amount of wealth 
 which labour as such, labour operating by itself, is capable 
 of producing from the degree of productiveness that 
 attached to labour in early times before the rise of modem 
 machinery,! or that attaches to it in modern times in 
 countries that have not yet adopted the use of modern 
 machinery. In both cases the amount of wealth which 
 labour shows itself capable of producing is exceedingly 
 small in comparison with the wealth which is con- 
 
 * The labourer may possess talents in every way equal to those 
 of his employer. Our point here is that these are not the talents 
 which are requisitioned and applied in the work which the labourer 
 actually accomplishes. 
 
 •f We shall show presently that modem machinery is not itseli a 
 product of mere labour, 
 
SOCIALISM 189 
 
 tinually being poured out of our factories where to a 
 large extent human hands are replaced by the modern 
 machine. 
 
 In the Middle Ages, when the implements of labour 
 were exceedingly simple, so simple that they could be 
 devised and fashioned by labour itself, the output of 
 labour per head of the labouring population was in 
 point of value a very small fraction of the wealth which 
 a single operative is capable of producing to-day. 
 Clothes, shoes, building materials — how slowly and 
 patiently these were produced by the labourer's unaided 
 hands even two hundred years ago. And of the things 
 that were produced at that period how small the variety 
 in comparison with the immense and varied productivity 
 of labour to-day. Even in agriculture, where the scale 
 of 'production in the old and the new period does not 
 differ so widely as in industry proper, the difference 
 in output in the two periods is enormous. In the 
 Middle Ages a single farmer with, say, four or five helpers 
 simply could not undertake the work which a farmer 
 with the same amount of help will freely undertake 
 to-day. The present-day implements for clearing and 
 preparing the land, for binding, reaping, threshing the 
 corn, and for despatching the gathered harvest did 
 not exist in those far-off days. And what was the out- 
 put of agriculture then ? It was roughly the amount 
 that sufficed to keep a man and his family from poverty 
 and want. It was what corresponded to what is now 
 spoken of as the sustenance-wage. There are even now 
 countries where until very recently the implements used 
 in agriculture were the implements of two hundred years 
 ago, the implements which labour itself sufficed to pro- 
 vide, and the agricultural output in these countries was 
 not more than the output of agriculture in the earlier 
 period. A signal instance is provided for us by the 
 peasants of the Palatinate to whose industry, thrift, 
 unalterable patience, and courage John Stuart Mill bears 
 ?uch eloquent and striking testimony. These peasant 
 
190 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 proprietors, he writes, labour most intensely, they " plod 
 on from day to day, and year to year, the most patient, 
 untirable, and persevering of animals." " Every man 
 has his house, his orchard, his road-side trees, commonly 
 so heavy with fruit that he is obliged to secure them 
 all ways or they would be torn to pieces." Could any 
 condition be more favourable to securing for labour, at 
 least in the domain of agriculture, the very highest 
 degree of productiveness possible to it ? And yet the 
 net result is given by Mill — " they have no actual want " ; 
 in other words, they produce just what the household 
 required, the bare means of subsistence. And this is 
 what, without modern machinery, manual labour seems 
 capable of producing, not in agriculture only, but in all 
 other departments of industry also, just what, when 
 turned into money, will suffice to maintain a man's 
 own home. 
 
 Compare this with what a modern workman can pro- 
 duce with the aid of machinery. Taking two periods, 
 separated by the comparatively short space of seventy- 
 one years, a modern authority * wiites that in 1840 a 
 single workman could perform " in spinning cotton an 
 amount of work equivalent to that of 320 men before 
 1769." Two centuries ago one pair of hands could 
 scarcely have turned out more than one pair of stockings 
 in the day. To-day a single operative could produce in 
 a rough way twenty pair or more. Then if to these is 
 added the enormous quantities of material wealth that 
 a comparatively small number of hands is daily turning 
 out of the workshops of England, steel works, iron 
 works, printing works, and all the other great concerns 
 of the nation, we can only wonder whether there is 
 any proportion whatever between the labour of olden 
 days, and what it produced, and the productiveness of 
 the labour of to-day. In this, of course, we must not 
 allow our imaginations to mislead us. We said that in 
 a particular kind of work the output per head of the 
 
 * Nicholson, " The Effect of Machinery on Wages," ch. 2. 
 
SOCIALISM igi 
 
 labouring population was three hundred times that of a 
 couple of centuries before. But the gene^^al dispro- 
 portion between the productiveness of industry under 
 the old and the new conditions respectively is not nearly 
 so great as this. Besides the spinners of cotton in 
 modern times there must be also men to make the 
 modern machines, to set up the machines, to build the 
 factories ; and so the productiveness per head of the 
 labouring population will be far less than the figures 
 given above might lead us to expect. Statisticians, 
 however, comparing the all-round productiveness per 
 head of the industrial population at the end of the 
 seventeenth and nineteenth centuries respectively, repre- 
 sent the two as standing in the ratio of seven to thirty- 
 three ; * it is a ratio which is v/idening with every year 
 that passes ; and it suffices to show how groundless is 
 the claim made by socialist writers that labour is not 
 only the chief but the sole factor in the production of 
 modern wealth. If the figures of the statisticians are 
 true it is clear that labour operating by itself could not 
 account for more than a fifth of the total productiveness 
 of the industry of these present days. 
 
 But, it will be said, is it not labour that has produced 
 the modern machine and, therefore, is not labour to be 
 credited with all the extended productiveness of industry 
 in the modern as compared with the earlier period ? 
 Our answer is that labour as such is to be credited with 
 no part of the increased productiveness of modern 
 industry, for labour did not produce the modern machine. 
 The workmen certainly set up the machine, but always 
 according to the plans of, and, therefore, under the 
 guidance of, the inventor. The machine, in its first 
 origin, is the work not of labour but of the mental ability 
 of the' inventor. Neither does mere labour produce the 
 materials of which the machine is made. These also 
 are the products of many inventive minds, distinct from 
 labour. To use an expression of Mr. Mallock's — the 
 
 * Mallock, ' Critical Examination of Socialism," ch, 2. 
 
192 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 materials of which machines are made are not so much 
 crystalUsed labour as " crystallised mechanics, crystallised 
 chemistry, crystallised mathematics, in short, crystallised 
 intellect, knowledge, imagination, and executive capacity 
 of kinds which hardly exist in a dozen minds out of a 
 million." 
 
 Labour, as such, then, could never have put the 
 world in possession of the great implements of industry 
 through which wealth is produced to-day. Indeed, the 
 faculties engaged in the designing and production of 
 these appliances are of a kind wholly different from that 
 of labour. Through many centuries labour did direct 
 itself to improve upon the implements supplied to it 
 by each generation, and the improvements effected were 
 negligible in kind and amount. Right up to the end of 
 the eighteenth century the instruments used in pro- 
 duction showed no tendency to improve. " Until the 
 beginning of our century," writes Le Bon, " the instru- 
 ments of industry had scarcely changed for a thousand 
 years ; they were, in fact, identical as regards their 
 essential parts with the appliances which figure in the 
 interior of the Egyptian tombs four thousand years 
 old." Labour could not produce a specifically new 
 kind of appliance because a new faculty was required 
 for such production. Quite suddenly, at the end of the 
 eighteenth century, what was evidently a new factor, 
 distinct altogether from labour, became operative in 
 industry ; a new world of industry arose, the actuating 
 spirit of industry was radically altered, and at a bound, 
 productiveness' increased in innumerable departments 
 twenty, thirty, a hundred times. This new factor was 
 none other than the ability of the inventor and of the 
 great masters of industry, ability which until that time 
 had been employed in other spheres than industry, and 
 which now appeared for the first time as a powerful 
 source of productiveness in that sphere. 
 
 But all that we have said on the inability of labour 
 to devise or furnish the world with the machinery that 
 
SOCIALISM 193 
 
 has made modern industry the great new departure 
 that it is, in comparison with what went before, will 
 be confirmed and illustrated from the argument now 
 to follow.* 
 
 Secondly, we said that an examination of any one or 
 a few of those processes by which industry nowadays 
 achieves its results will suffice to show that labour is 
 not the sole or the chief factor in modern production. 
 By the expenditure of a comparatively small amount 
 of energy the modern workman achieves results alto- 
 gether out of proportion to the energy which he personally 
 expends in his work. The reason is that by the ex- 
 penditure of a small amount of energy the workman 
 releases other immense supplies and kinds of energy 
 which through the ingenuity of the inventor have been 
 stored up in the machine, and, therefore, it is to the 
 machine principally, or to its inventor, and not to labour 
 that we must attribute the immensity of the result 
 which finally appears. This is why the same pair of 
 hands that formerly could spin a certain amount of 
 cotton in the day now produces 300 times as much. 
 The worker is not the chief producer. The chief pro- 
 ducer is the machine or rather the inventor of the 
 machine. The work of the' skilled labourer consists, 
 for the most part, in controlling and watching the 
 machine, in supplying it with materials, and removing 
 products. The work of production itself is in all 
 machines very largely, and in many almost wholly, an 
 automatic process, accomplished by the machine, through 
 the agency of its own inner forces. Of many of the pro- 
 cesses that go on under his hand the workman has often 
 no understanding, and even if he does happen to under- 
 stand, such knowledge is not requisitioned in the ac- 
 complishment of his task ; it is a mere accident without 
 a bearing on the work he does. In nearly every kind 
 
 * For the argument that precedes we are almost wholly indebted 
 to Mr. Mallock's delightful work: "A Critical Examination of 
 Socialism." 
 
 VOL. II — 13 
 
194 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of machinery there are utilised and applied a number of 
 principles in Chemistry, in Mechanics, and in Mathe- 
 matics, which lie far beyond the intelligence, or at all 
 events, the attainments of the most skilled workman. 
 Between his labour, therefore, and the completed work 
 regarded as embodying those principles there is a huge 
 disproportion which disentitles the labourer to be 
 recognised as the sole or even the chief factor in those 
 productive processes that he conducts and controls. 
 
 And this disproportion is found to increase and widen 
 as industry progresses. The workman is becoming more 
 and more of an automaton in the sense of acting under 
 directions from others — and this because of his increasing 
 inability to understand the principles embodied in 
 modern machinery. New principles are being dis- 
 covered and utilised every day that pass entirely 
 beyond his comprehension. Not one workman in a 
 thousand understands even a small fraction of the 
 principles applied, and the distribution of the forces 
 utilised, in a modern electric machine. The workman 
 knows how to couple up the parts, to start the machine, 
 and to stop it. But in the devising of the machine 
 there is involved the highest technical and mathematical 
 knowledge such as most workmen have neither the means 
 nor the opportunity of acquiring. What folly in the 
 light of these facts to claim that the labour of the work- 
 man is the so e or even the chief factor in present-day 
 production ! 
 
 The third factor in modern production other than labour. 
 
 Our position as developed in the argument just com- 
 pleted is that labour is not the sole factor in production, 
 that to ability also is to be attributed a large share in 
 the productiveness of modern industry. It is no part 
 of our theory, however, that ability and labour are the 
 only factors concerned in production, or that whatever 
 is not produced by labour is necessarily the work of 
 ability and belongs to the capitalist, There is a third 
 
SOCIALISM 195 
 
 factor to be enumerated, without which neither abihty 
 nor labour could have reached their present effective- 
 ness, and which is itself a product neither of labour nor 
 of ability. We refer to all those natural stores of energy 
 which for centuries lay unutilised beneath the earth* 
 in our coal- and oil-mines, and which it was reserved 
 for the people of our time to utilise with such stupendous 
 effect in every department of production. These natural 
 sources of energy are not the creation either of ability or 
 of labour or of both combined. They are an independent 
 factor of production, and any attempt to ignore them 
 must necessarily lead to fallacious conclusions concerning 
 the rights of labour and ability respectively. Thus Mr. 
 Mallock, in his work, " A Critical Examination of Social- 
 ism," gives a computation of the respective claims of 
 ability on the one hand, as representing capital, and 
 labour on the other, which, by omitting all mention of 
 this third factor, leads to a conclusion which is manifestly 
 at variance with justice and common sense. Estimating, 
 just as we have done (our method has been borrowed 
 from him), the productive capacity of labour from the 
 amount that labour was able to produce before the rise 
 of modern machinery, which, as we saw, was not much 
 above the mere subsistence wage, he then evolves the 
 argument that, labour and ability being the only factors 
 in production, all that is left of the products of industry 
 after the labourer has received his subsistence wage 
 belongs to ability alone. If more is given to the labourer, 
 and on certain extrinsic titles, he tells us, more ought to 
 be given, it is to be regarded as " a gift to the many from 
 the few." t 
 
 * Land was always a factor of production. But modern industry- 
 is chiefly characterised by the utilisation of the natural stores of 
 energy referred to in our text. 
 
 t op. cit. p. 2S2. The only titles on which, according to Mr. 
 Mallock, the capitalist is bound to give more than a subsistence wage 
 to the labourer are the following : first, something ought to be given 
 to the labourer as compensation for loss of freedom in placing himself 
 in the hands of the capitalist ; secondly, as a precaution of prudence, 
 it is well to give the labourer an additional sum to impress him with 
 the benefits of the wages system — (ch. 16). 
 
196 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 This conclusion, we have said, is opposed to justice. 
 The natural sources of energy that were opened up at 
 the beginning of the capitalist period are surely to be 
 credited with some portion of the total productiveness 
 of industry, and since they have been produced neither 
 by ability nor by labour we cannot say, a priori, that 
 this portion of the total output of industry belongs 
 exclusively either to labour or to ability. Any general 
 or abstract cl^im, therefore, made without further 
 examination of the question, " who owns these sources 
 of production ? " that, whatever the labourer receives 
 above his subsistence wage is of necessity to be regarded 
 as a gift to the many from the few, is preposterous and 
 unjust.* 
 
 The importance of this third factor in production can 
 scarcely be overrated. Some idea of its immensity may 
 be gained from the following computation made by a 
 very reliable authority. " For the United States alone," 
 writes M. Le Bon,-j- " the power extracted from coal is 
 valued at the equivalent of thirteen million men, and 
 fifty-three million horses." " Admitting," this author 
 proceeds, " the absurd hypothesis of the possibility of 
 obtaining so many men and animals, the expense of' 
 their keep would be £2,200,000,000 instead of the 
 ;f 100,000,000 or so which represents the work executed 
 by machine-motors." It must be admitted, therefore, 
 that a great part of the present wealth of the world is 
 to be attributed to these sources of natural energy as 
 distinct from either labour or ability. 
 
 The question now arises — to whom does that portion 
 of the fruits of indvistry which represents the value of 
 these natural sources of production as distinct from labour 
 and ability belong in justice ? Our answer is — it belongs 
 to that person or body of persons to whom the natural ' 
 
 * Moreover in our discussion on the wages-contract (p. 343) it 
 will be shown that the wage-earner has a right in justice, arising out 
 of the nature of the wages-contract itself, to more than the bare sub- 
 sistence wage. 
 
 ■f " The Psychology of Socialism," p. 215. 
 
SOCIALISM 197 
 
 sources themselves belong. Ownership of the sources 
 always brings with it ownership of the friyts as well. 
 If, therefore, the natural sources, i.e. principally the 
 coal- and oil-mines, are not owned by any private 
 individual, if they are the property of the nation at 
 large, the fruits of them belong to the nation at large 
 and they should be utilised for the benefit of all. If, 
 on the other hand, the coal- and oil-mines belong to 
 private owners, to the capitalists, then, provided that 
 they are justly owned, and that a just remuneration is 
 given to those who by their labour render these sources 
 of wealth available for use, the values corresponding 
 to them are to be regarded as belonging by right to 
 those persons to whom the mines themselves belong. 
 
 But on what title, it may be asked, can the things that 
 are produced by God alone be taken over by a few indi- 
 viduals as their private property to the exclusion of 
 millions of other persons for whose benefit, equally with 
 that of the few, these great natural sources of wealth 
 were originally provided ? This is a question which we 
 cannot fully consider at present since it raises the problem 
 of the ownership of land and of natural wealth generally 
 — a problem which will be examined with special reference 
 to the question of the ownership of mines, in an appendix 
 to a subsequent chapter. At present all that it is possible 
 to say is this — coal- and oil-mines may be owned by 
 individuals on perfectly valid titles ; what is more, 
 unless these mines had in the past been taken over by 
 individual persons as their own private property they 
 could never have been made available for public use. 
 Coal-mines are not to be regarded as natural storehouses 
 in which ready-made wealth is contained in enormous 
 quantities, wealth which any person might extract who 
 cared to do so, without expenditure or financial risk or 
 trouble of any kind. As a matter of fact, enormous 
 sums of money have to be spent on coal-mines before 
 they can become a source of profit, and this expenditure 
 is always attended with very grave risk of complete 
 
198 , THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 loss. This we shall establish by reference to definite 
 facts and figures in a later chapter. The conclusion, 
 however, which we wish to emphasise now is that the 
 natural sources of wealth may belong to private owners, 
 and that in such cases the owners have a perfect right 
 to the fruits. At present in England the coal-mines 
 are the property of private capitalists ; this (and not 
 the supposition that the whole of what is produced 
 by industry over and above the subsistence wage must 
 necessarily have been produced by ability) is the title 
 on which that portion of the national wealth which is 
 attributable to the coal-mines belongs to the capitalist 
 class in England. There are countries, however, where 
 these natural sources are not owned by private capitalists, 
 and there the private capitalist can lay no claim to the 
 portion of the national wealth which is due to these 
 natviral sources, but only to the products of his own work 
 and ability.* 
 
 * We think that a case might be made showing that even in 
 England workmen have a right to some of the products due to the 
 natural sources in the following manner : The mines in a country 
 like England go with the land, so that whoever owns the land owns 
 the mines also. Now this right to the underlands following ownership 
 of the surface or overland, is not of natural but of civil authority 
 only, as we have already seen (p. 141). Moreover, we saw that the 
 civil law, though it acted validly, did not act wisely in conferring this 
 right. There is no reason in the world why a man who owns the 
 surface should be owner also of everything beneath the surface. If, 
 therefore, the State is to be regarded as reasonable it must be supposed, 
 when conferring this ownership of the underlands, to expect of owners, 
 should these underlands prove to be immensely more valuable than 
 the surface lands to which they were supposed to be accessory, that 
 some of these immense and unexpected values, values which the 
 mine-owner did not himself produce, should go to the nation, and in 
 particular to the working classes who take such a prominent part in 
 production. 
 
 We offer this argument as a suggestion merely. Whether or not 
 it is valid, and whether, therefore, it proves that what the workman 
 receives over and above the subsistence wage is not a gift to the many 
 from the few, we leave to the reader to say. But in any case that 
 this surplusage is not of the nature of a gift, but is due to the work- 
 man in justice, can also be established on other grounds (p. 343). 
 The workman has a right in justice to much more than the subsistence 
 wage, as will be proved in a later chapter. 
 
SOCIALISM 199 
 
 A DIFFICULTY 
 
 It is supposed in the foregoing line of reasoning, in which 
 we claim that labour is not the sole source of modern wealth 
 since the ability of the capitalist is also a source, that the 
 capitalist is necessarily a man of ability, whereas we know 
 that many capitalists either have no ability at all, or fail 
 to exercise it, living away from their business and leaving 
 the conduct of it to mere salaried officials. How, it is asked, 
 can such men be said to have a right to the wealth that 
 abihty produces ? 
 
 Reply. — In answer to this important difficulty we wish, 
 first of all, to call the reader's attention to a matter which 
 has already been explained but which it is necessary to 
 repeat in the present connection. When we contrasted the 
 functions of the labourer and the inventor by representing 
 one as spending material energy and the other as exercising 
 ability it was no part of our theory that workmen had no 
 ability or that their natural intellectual faculties were of a 
 lower order than those of other men. Our point was that, 
 whatever might be the natural intellectual acumen of work- 
 men, the powers that were called into play and that were 
 required for the successful accomplishment of the manual 
 labourer's task were of a kind wholly different frcm those 
 employed in the work of invention and administration. 
 That, and not any absurd prepossession in regard to the 
 aptitudes of the labouring classes, was our reason for placing 
 his work on the one side as an exercise of labour alone, and 
 on the other side the factor which we spoke of as abihty. 
 
 But now the question arises — ^To whom is this ability 
 which we contrast so markedly with the labour of the work- 
 man supposed to belong ? For purposes of the present 
 discussion it really was not necessary to determine its owner 
 in any way. Our thesis being that labour is not the sole 
 factor in the production of wealth it is obvious that in 
 elucidating this thesis it was not necessary to do more than 
 to show that labour could lay no claim to whatever portion 
 of the fruits of industry is attributable to this second factor. 
 That position, at least, we hope has been fully estabhshed 
 in our recent discussion. 
 
 But it is possible also to return some general answer to 
 the question to whom the abihty which we have spoken of 
 as the second chief factor in production belongs and to whom, 
 therefore, the fruits of this ability should be given. First, 
 there is the ability of the inventor — the man who devises 
 
200 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 ■ the machine. To him must be awarded a portion of the 
 total product of industry proportioned to the value of his 
 invention. But this right of the inventor is not to be re- 
 garded as prejudicing in any way another right which the 
 inventor possesses in common with every human being, 
 viz. his right freely to dispose of that .which is his own. 
 And it is the exercise of his full freedom in this manner by 
 the inventor that first brings us into contact with the 
 capitalist as a rival claimant with labour of the fruits of 
 industry. The inventor may retain his invention in his own 
 hands and work it himself, employing men to aid him in 
 conducting his business. The inventor is then a capitalist. 
 Or the inventor may sell his machine to another and then 
 that other becomes the capitalist and being owner of the 
 machine has a full right to the fruits of the abihties which 
 are enshrined in that machine, that is, to all that the machine 
 produces, minus a fair wage paid to the labourer. But the 
 capitalist is more than the mere owner of a machine. 
 Machinery requires other plant besides itself before it can 
 be successfully worked. Buildings have to be erected, the 
 machinery has to be put into position, power has to be 
 suppHed, raw materials have to be procured. AU this the 
 capitalist provides at his own expense, and, thereby, his 
 special title to a portion of the products of industry distinct 
 from that given to labour becomes wider and more pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 But, besides the ability of the inventor, there exists also 
 another kind of abihty which is of inimense importance for 
 success in the industrial world, viz. the abihty of the ad- 
 ministrator or of the director of industry. Without ad- 
 ministrative ability there could be no such thing as success 
 in an industrial concern. Administrative abihty is a term 
 of the very widest connotation. It includes not merely 
 ability to direct the labourers in the work of production, 
 but ability to gauge the markets, to proportion cost of pro- 
 duction to expected prices, and even to create markets 
 where they do not exist. It includes the faculty of rapidly 
 estimating risks, and also the right degree of caution and 
 daring in facing and overcoming them. These are all parts 
 of the character that go to make a successful business man, 
 and they are all included under what is usually spoken of as 
 administrative ability. The question now arises are capitahsts 
 or the employers of labour men of abihty in this sense ? 
 Do they really exercise the functions of administrator, and 
 have they, therefore, a right not only to that portion of the 
 fruits of industry which is attributable to the machinery 
 
SOCIALISM 201 
 
 and to plant generally, but to another portion also answering 
 to their special work of administration ? ^ 
 
 Our answer is that most capitalists do actually direct 
 the work of the institutions which they set up and own. 
 They, the owners, the chief organisers, will not, indeed, 
 embroil themselves in a too-detailed surveillance. The 
 details of organisation must be left to smaller men. " The 
 commercial man," writes a weU-known modern authority,* 
 " whose time is taken up with the details of his business is 
 doomed to failure." But the broader work of direction is. 
 as a rule, undertaken by owners in every country. 
 
 If, however, an owner should decide to leave the work, 
 even of supreme direction, to another and to pay him for 
 his work (and in some cases capitaUsts are, from the nature 
 of the case, compelled to do so ; it would be impossible, 
 for instance, for all railway shareholders, who being share- 
 holders are also all capitalists, to undertake direction) then 
 it is hard to see that in doing so he interferes in any way 
 with the rights of workmen. He who owns a business has 
 a perfect right to direct it in any way he pleases whether 
 personally or through others. If he personally directs the 
 business he is entitled to all the profits due to successful 
 direction. If he exercises that function through another 
 he must pay that other a just salary. But to whomsoever 
 the fruits due to the exercise of administrative abihty are 
 finally awarded, they are not in justice the property of 
 manual labour, f 
 
 Capitalism and Industrial Crises 
 
 Crises are certain temporary or short- lived, though 
 acute, bad periods of trade extending over a wide area 
 of a na,tion's commercial life, involving grave financial 
 loss to a large number of producers, the destruction of a 
 large number of concerns, and, as a consequence, a 
 grave diminution of employment in many departments 
 of trade. Crises are of a temporary character, that is, 
 they do not involve the permanent disappearance of 
 trade. On the other hand, they are both acute and 
 
 * Macrosty, Contemporary Review, June, 1899. 
 t Our section on the wages-contract might be usefully read in 
 conjunction with this whole argument. 
 
202 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 widespread, and, therefore, they differ essentially from 
 ordinary trade depressions. Their effects are most 
 keenly felt amongst the poor, who are thrown out of 
 employment in thousands and can find no avenue of 
 industry open to them — the depression that follows upon 
 a crisis being, as we said, always widespread, and ex- 
 tending to nearly every department of trade. 
 
 Now it is contended by Marx and his followers that 
 all crises are attributable, directly or indirectly, to 
 capitalism as their ultimate ground and cause. Crises, 
 they say, are inseparable from capitalism, and under the 
 sj'stem of capitalism they tend to recur, not irregularly 
 and, as it were, accidentally, but at regular intervals 
 and, therefore, according to some law inherent in 
 capitalism. Their recurrent character is thus described 
 by Engels * : — 
 
 " The ever increasing perfectability of modern machinery 
 is by the anarchy of social production turned into a com- 
 pulsory law that forces the individual industrial capitalist 
 always to improve machinery, always to increase its pro- 
 ductive force. . . . The extension of the markets cannot 
 keep pace with the extension of production. The collision 
 becomes inevitable ; and, as this cannot produce any real 
 solution as long as it does not break in pieces, the collisions 
 become periodic. 
 
 As a matter of fact, since 1825, when the first general 
 crisis broke out, the whole industrial and commercial world, 
 production and exchange among all civilised peoples and 
 their more or less barbaric hangers-on, are thrown out of 
 joint about once every ten years. Commerce is at a stand- 
 still, the markets are glutted, products accumulate, as 
 multitudinous as they are unsaleable, hard cash disappears, 
 credit vanishes, factories are closed, the mass of the workers 
 are in want of the means of subsistence because they have 
 produced too much of the means of subsistence ! bankruptcy 
 follows upon bankruptcy, execution upon execution. The 
 stagnation lasts for years, productive forces and products 
 are wasted and destroyed wholesale, until the accumulated 
 mass of commodities finally filters off, more or less depreciated 
 
 * " Socialism, Utopian and Scientific," p. 63. 
 
SOCIALISM 203 
 
 in value, until production and exchange gradually begin to 
 move again. Little by little the pace quickens* It beconaes 
 a trot. The industrial trot breaks into a canter, the canter 
 in turn grows into the headlong gallop of a perfect steeple- 
 chase of industry, commercial credit, and speculation ; which, 
 finally, after breakneck leaps, ends where it began in the 
 ditch of a crisis, and so over again." 
 
 From this passage we may gain some imperfect idea 
 of the nature and terrible effects of crises. The author 
 just quoted apparently assumes that crises are all 
 caused by over-production. Whether there are other fac- 
 tors that also may result in crises will be seen presently. 
 But whatever may be the cause of crises, it is certain that 
 they are a very great evil, and that no pains should be 
 spared to bring about their complete elimination from 
 industrj^ But, though crises are evils of such gravity 
 as to command the serious attention of economists and 
 moralists, nevertheless we must not allow ourselves to 
 be drawn away by a too detailed consideration of 
 them from the main purpose of the present chapters, 
 which are concerned only with certain supposed defects 
 of capitalism. It will, indeed, be found impossible in 
 considering this, our main problem, to avoid saying 
 something on the causes of crises ; but anything in the 
 way of a detailed scientific investigation of them, or 
 of the supposed law of their periodic recurrence, lies 
 altogether outside our work. 
 
 Our discussion of crises, which will be brief, will con- 
 sist of two parts. First, we shall enquire whether 
 crises are necessary under capitalism ; then, secondly, 
 we shall discuss the problem whether they are wholly 
 avoidable under socialism. 
 
 Are crises necessary under Capitalism ? 
 
 Before attempting to answer this question we may be 
 allowed to attempt a brief enumeration of the main 
 causes of crises. The first and commonest cause of 
 
204 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 crises is over-production.* The producer makes a false 
 estimate as to future demands. Goods produced at an 
 immense cost happen not to be in demand, and are 
 either unsaleable, or are sold at a very great loss. A 
 large number of firms are similarly and simultaneously 
 hit. The banks are run on. Credit is stopped. Pro- 
 duction ceases. Widespread unemployment ensues. 
 Again, crises are brought about by over-capitalising | 
 and rash speculation. Immense sums of money are 
 put into fruitless ventures with results similar to those 
 just described. Bad harvests, too, are an obvious cause 
 of crises. Wide-extended failure here often involves 
 failure of the materials of production. Worse still, 
 consumers have not the money to purchase what is 
 produced. If previous harvests have been good, pro- 
 duction may have for some years been on a very large 
 scale, big prices being counted upon. Producers, there- 
 fore, lose heavily and are in straits for money. The 
 banks have not the money to lend. There is failure all 
 round. Again, new inventions, by rendering existing 
 systems antiquated, may bring about the ruin of many 
 old-established firms. In time, of course, each new 
 invention should succeed in bringing other subordinate 
 businesses into existence, and by cheapening articles 
 increase the market-demand for them. But the process 
 of adjustment of the various industrial forces, one to 
 another, is often slow, and in the meantime all the 
 conditions of a crisis may realise themselves. Large 
 
 * According to Hobson (" Evol. of Mod. Capit.," ch. xi.) crises 
 are caused rather by under-consumption and over-saving than by 
 over-production. He speaks of under-consumption as the " root- 
 evil of depressed trade." We may, however, regard under-consumption 
 and over-production as correlative terms. But Hobson usefully 
 points out that over-production does not always consist in a " glut 
 of goods." Often, when it is found that demand has failed, supply 
 may be instantly checked ; but then you are left with " idle machinery, 
 closed factories, unworked mines, unused ships and railway trucks." 
 In other words over-production is often of the nature of over-capitalisa- 
 tion. 
 
 t See Seligman, " Principles of Economics," p. 586, who maintains 
 that all crises are due to this as their chief cause. 
 
SOCIALISM 205 
 
 gold discoveries, also, may, by giving an impetus to 
 unwise speculation, help to produce csises. War, 
 pestilence, and any great political disturbance, by giving 
 a shock to credit, may lay the foundations of crises. 
 They may be brought about also by any cause that 
 affects the ultimate reserves — the real foundations of 
 the credit system, any sudden and extensive drain, for 
 instance, on the gold reserve of a country.* 
 
 The main causes of crises being now considered, we 
 may proceed to answer the question — whether crises 
 are inseparable from capitalism ? Our answer is that, 
 under capitalism, crises must always be reckoned upon 
 as a possible contingency, since at least many of the 
 causes that produce crises are ineradicable from that 
 system. Nevertheless, not only is it possible to a large 
 extent to remove or neutralise those causes, but this 
 has actually been done, so that in any well organised 
 industrial country a serious or prolonged crises is be- 
 coming less and less possible each decade of years, and, 
 in England at all events, may even now be regarded as 
 no more than a remote contingency. 
 
 That the causes of crises must continue to remain 
 under capitalism is obvious. As long as producers aim 
 at big profits and at the same time are not infallible in 
 predicting the market-demand, there will remain the 
 danger of over-production. For the same reason over- 
 capitalisation and gambling on the stock exchange 
 must always be reckoned on as a possibility. Eager 
 and foolish investment will always remain as long as the 
 lust for wealth remains and men have money to gamble 
 with. Bad harvests, wars, new inventions, and dis- 
 coveries of gold must also remain possibilities. Hence, 
 since many of the causes which produce crises must 
 continue to remain with us, crises must also continue 
 
 * other causes, real and alleged, will be considered in a note at 
 the end of the present section. A good account of the causes of 
 crises is to be found in Nicholson, " Principles of Political Economy," 
 Vol. II. 
 
2o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to be reckoned amongst the number of possible human 
 ills.* 
 
 Nevertheless these causes are not without their pre- 
 ventives and their remedies. The first is better organisa- 
 tion in trade. As Seligman points out : | " like some 
 of the other economic evils of the nineteenth century 
 financial crises seem to be peculiar to the infancy of 
 the factory system." Better organisation brings the 
 centres and channels of commerce closer together, ad- 
 justment under changing conditions becomes easier, 
 relief is closer at hand, labour becomes more mobile, 
 employment is more easily found. Improved organisa- 
 tion of our commercial system, therefore, must, of a 
 certainty, reduce the probability of the occurrence of 
 crises. It was, says Engels himself, owing to the fact 
 that the Suez Canal brought America and India by 
 seventy to ninety per cent, nearer to the industrial 
 countries of Europe that " the two great incubators of 
 crises from 1825 to 1857 lost a great part of their destruc- 
 tive power " ; the oceanic cable he also regards as 
 responsible for the prevention of many a panic in the 
 money markets which would, if unchecked, have 
 certainly resulted in crisis. 
 
 Then, secondly, great importance should be attached 
 to fuller instruction and knowledge on the part of those 
 engaged in trade not only in the abstract science of 
 Economics but also in applied business laws and methods, 
 particularly in the department of finance. A better 
 study of the laws of commerce will help to prevent over- 
 production by engendering habits of caution and reserve. 
 Also, bankers must learn in times of prosperity not to 
 risk their money by lending too freely, and not to en- 
 courage doubtful investment on the part of speculators. 
 
 Thirdly, more important still as a factor for eliminating 
 and mitigating the effects of crises, is the new light which 
 
 * We shall presently see that many of these causes will continue 
 to exist under socialism also. 
 t op. cit., p. 586. 
 
SOCIALISM 207 
 
 experience of them has afforded to financiers of the way 
 in which the beginnings of a crisis ought to be met. 
 The most acute crises that have arisen in England might 
 easily have been avoided if bankers knew, what they 
 know now from bitter experience, that a time of panic 
 is not a time to close up the coffers and refuse aid to 
 threatened industries. Granted a fair security, and 
 demanding just such a rate of interest as is high enough 
 to discourage those whose businesses are certain to go 
 under, free and courageous lending is now regarded as 
 the right policy to adopt when the danger of a crisis 
 appears. This is now the policy adopted by the Bank 
 of England, and to the adoption of this policy we owe 
 it, says Prof. Chapman, that the " crisis in England has 
 become a rare occurrence." " By the Act of 1844," 
 writes Nicholson,* " the Bank cannot issue more than 
 a certain amount except against gold. A suspension 
 of the Act, however, enables the Bank in an emergency 
 to exceed this limit, and the mere announcement of the 
 suspension has sufficed to allay a panic, as in the crises 
 of 1847, 1857, 1866." This free and uninterrupted 
 continuance and extension of credit in time of panic 
 may lead in time to the almost total elimination of 
 crises, at least in their more aggravated forms. And 
 what is true of times of crisis is true of times even of 
 ordinary depression. " Depression vanishes," writes 
 Sombart.t 'the moment there is a more even flow in 
 the production of the precious metals." 
 
 Lastly, a certain degree of centralisation should be 
 introduced into our banking system if crises are to be 
 successfully met, it being impossible that a number of 
 small banks through the country could possess funds 
 enough to encourage them to adopt the policy of free 
 lending so necessary in times of crisis. In England 
 
 * " Principles of Political Economy," II. 203. 
 
 t op. cit., p. 86. That crises are not now regarded as evils of 
 great permanent importance is shown in an interesting article on 
 crises in Palgrave's " Dictionary of Political Economy." We recom- 
 mend it to the reader. 
 
2b8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 concentration is to a large extent effected through the 
 Bank of England. In America,* writes Taussig,! some 
 " substitute for it has been found in the system of 
 combining their reserves by resorting to clearing-house 
 certificates." Indeed, centralisation in our banking t 
 system may be regarded as only one of the many ele- 
 ments that make for the better organisation of commerce 
 generally, which, as we saw, is the chief, if not the all- 
 embracing, remedy and preventive of crises. § 
 
 * See Herkner's article in " Handworterbuch der Staatswissen- 
 schaften," vi. 265. 
 
 In i860 and 1884 when crisis was threatened in New York it was 
 the combining of the specie reserves of the various New York banks, 
 the establishment of a clearing-house system as between these banks, 
 and the issue of clearing-house certificates that made it possible for 
 the smaller banks to meet the claims made on them. The threatened 
 panic was thus allayed. See, in this connection " Economic Essays," 
 by Dunbar (Ed. by O. M. W. Sprague). 
 
 t Principles of Economics. It is, however, pointed out by Dunbar 
 (" The Theory and History of Banking ") that the combining of specie 
 reserves, and resort to the clearing-house certificate system, " though 
 effective by way of relief is not necessarily salutary as a regular system." 
 It leads to irresponsibility in the case of the weaker banks. 
 
 I See interesting passage in Sombart, op. cit., p. 87. 
 
 § Some writers have attempted to show that crises are an inherent 
 evil of capitalism, by attributing crises to some permanent part or 
 quality of capitalist organisation itself, and not to such mistakes as 
 are operative in most cases of over-production or to mere accidents 
 of nature like harvest failures. Division of labour, e.g. it is said 
 is a growth of capitalism, and division of labour, by separating the 
 first step in production, i.e. the production of raw materials, by many 
 stages from the final product and from demand, makes calculation as 
 to future demand exceedingly difiicult and so leads on to crises. 
 
 Again, it is asserted, e.g. by Rodbertus and Sismondi, that low 
 wages are a necessity of capitalism and so the workman is deprived 
 of the means of purchasing the goods produced, thus giving rise to 
 relative over-production and to (.risis ; this evil is increased, it is 
 said, by a supposed law formulated by Marx, that under capitalism 
 fixed capital, i.e. machinery, tends to absorb more and more of the 
 profits in proportion to variable capital or wages — (" Capital," 
 II. 637). 
 
 Again, some argue on the foundation of a supposed law formulated 
 by Mill, viz. that the profits of capital must te..d always to decrease. 
 When they decrease beyond a certain degree a crisis is precipitated, 
 capital is destroyed, and then the profits of capital begin to rise again. 
 
 These arguments may be briefly answered as follows : The first 
 argument explains crises as a result of division of labour. But surely 
 division of labour will continue under Socialism. Also we contend 
 that the evils of division of labour belong to the chaotic period of 
 industry and must disappear with better organisation. The second 
 
SOCIALISM 209 
 
 Are crises possible under Socialism? 
 
 If the causes or many of the causes that produce 
 crises are possible under socialism then crises also are 
 possible under socialism. Now there can be no doubt 
 that all the principal causes of crises will still be operative 
 after the capitalist system has been, if it ever should 
 be, supplanted by socialism. The chief of these causes, 
 viz. over-production, we shall consider in the last place, 
 for reasons which will presently appear. Of many of 
 the rest there is no need to speak at any great length. 
 Bad harvests will not be eliminated by the advent of 
 socialism. Torrential rains, destructive drought, pesti- 
 lence, sun spots,* and all the other forces and events 
 that affect the quality and extent of harvests are without 
 dependence on any one form of economic system, and 
 appear and disappear indifferently under any system. 
 New inventions are, we suppose, still to be looked for 
 in the socialist era, and, if economic progress is to con- 
 tinue, the new and better system must be allowed to 
 outclass and supplant, just as at present, the inferior 
 systems. Again, until socialism assumes a settled inter- 
 national character, i.e. until all the boundaries of States 
 have been broken down and the whole world becomes 
 one State under a single government, war must be 
 reckoned amongst the list of possible human contin- 
 gencies and, therefore, , as a possible cause of crisis. 
 
 argument supposes a necessary low level of wages under capitalism. 
 This assumption we shall disprove in the section to follow. We also 
 reject Marx's contention stated in connection with this second argu- 
 ment, since it is clear that increase of machinery must cause increase 
 of employment, and thus by heightening demand, help to prevent 
 the accumulation of unsaleable goods. Besides, the wage-earners 
 are not, as is supposed in the present argument, the only consumers. 
 The third argument is based on Mill's theory of a declining profit-rate. 
 But this supposed law is made by Mill to depend on so many assump- 
 tions that its fulfilment need not be feared under modern conditions. 
 Thus one of the conditions which should be fulfilled before the law 
 of declining profits could become effective is that capital should 
 wholly cease to be taken out of the country — -(See Mill, " Political 
 Economy," p. 443). 
 
 * According to Prof. Jevons and many other writers there is an 
 intimate connection between the appearance of sun-spots and the 
 periodic repurrence of bad harvests. 
 
 vol.. ii — 14 
 
210 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Of over-production we must speak at greater length 
 than of the other causes of crisis, because of the claim 
 made by socialists that this, the chief cause, is an ex- 
 clusively capitalist evil and that it can have no place 
 under socialism. Now, that the main psychological 
 influences that at present lead to over-production will 
 disappear with the disappearance of capitalism it would 
 be as futile to contend as to maintain that human 
 nature will suffer a complete transformation or eclipse 
 with the advent of the new era. Indeed, unless these 
 same psychological influences remain and continue to 
 be operative with all their present vigour, it is obvious 
 that the socialist State must speedily be reduced to a 
 condition of bankruptcy, and that under socialism all 
 the roads of social and economic progress must be re- 
 traced. The desire for wealth, at present exercised 
 wholly in the interest of the individual who amasses the 
 wealth, is the chief psychological factor responsible for 
 the present rate of economic progress. Under socialism 
 this desire for wealth would indeed be exercised, 
 it is explained, wholly in the interest of the community 
 at large. But no socialist would maintain that the 
 desire for wealth will be absent or that the pressure 
 with which the struggle for enrichment is now waged 
 could, no matter in what interest it is exercised, be 
 suffered to abate, even in the smallest degree, without 
 causing serious detriment to the economic condition 
 of the whole community. It must be assumed, there- 
 fore, that under socialism producers will still aim at 
 seizing every opportunity for the amassing of wealth — 
 otherwise the socialist State will be of necessity economi- 
 cally inferior to our own. But where the eager desire 
 for wealth is, there also will be the possibility of over- 
 production. For to make profit more and more, it is 
 necessary to produce commodities more and more, 
 always, of course, in the hope that the demand will be 
 proportioned to the supply. But this is the condition 
 that cannot always be fulfilled. The demand may not 
 
SOCIALISM 211 
 
 be proportioned to supply. If it is not, and in so far 
 as it is not, production becomes over-pit)duction, and 
 a source of loss to the whole industrial community. 
 
 It is important, therefore, to examine the devices 
 by which the socialists intend to regulate the relations 
 of supply and demand so that over-production may be 
 impossible in the socialist State. These devices are 
 two-fold. First, it is maintained that under socialism 
 producers will have a better understanding of " the 
 real nature of productive forces," they will be able to 
 consult with one another and with others as well, as to 
 the condition of the market. In this way they will 
 avoid producing useless commodities, and will at the 
 same time not lose any opportunity of profiting by new 
 or increased demands. Knowledge or enquiry of this 
 kind it is said, " goes against the grain of the capitalist 
 mode of production and its defenders,"* whereas it is 
 a natural and necessary feature of socialist production. 
 
 Our answer is that it is impossible that capitalists 
 should not be as eager to understand the effect of the 
 social forces, in so far as these forces affect production 
 and consumption, as socialists are, since, under the 
 capitalist system, any losses that are sustained through 
 ignorance of them fall personally upon the individual 
 producer, whereas under socialism such losses would 
 have to be borne not by the producer alone but by the 
 whole community. Such knowledge, therefore, cannot 
 go against the grain of the capitalist any more than 
 making money goes against his grain. As to the relative 
 opportunities of the two classes we think that the 
 balance is not in favour of the socialist producers. 
 Capitalists may consult with their own agents, whom 
 they send out into the world's markets, as to the possi- 
 bilities of future demand ; and these agents are the 
 keenest judges of future demand. Under socialism, of 
 course, producers could also consult with their agents, 
 but to no better effect than present producers can. 
 
 * The argument is developed at length by Engels — op. cit. pp. 70-74. 
 
212 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 In the socialist State, however, there is one apparent 
 advantage concerning the relations of production and 
 demand that has to be examined. At present, pro- 
 ducers are rival competitors with one another, and, 
 therefore, they cannot consult with one another as to 
 the rate at which production ought to take place. Each 
 goes his own way, and, so, over-production is of constant 
 occurrence. But under socialism, it is said, producers 
 will not be rivals but partners of one great firm, and, 
 therefore, they will be able to control production so 
 that it may never exceed demand. Our view of this 
 supposed advantage is that, as we have already said, it 
 is an apparent advantage only. Really it amounts to a 
 very great evil. Successful production means, not pro- 
 duction that never exceeds demand, for that could be 
 effected by hardly producing at all, but production 
 which, while it does not exceed, is always well up to the 
 level of demand, and that even to some extent creates 
 and quickens demand. Undoubtedly, producers, by 
 friendly consultation, might avoid many of the evils of 
 over-production, but only, it seems to us, by running 
 the risk of an opposite and equally great economic 
 evil, that, viz. of under-production ; and production 
 regulated by such a standard woiild mean the easing 
 off of all that pressure in the industrial world, on the 
 continued maintenance and increase of which successful 
 business enterprise in the last instance depends.* 
 
 The second method for avoiding over-production 
 under the socialist scheme is that of production on, or 
 according to, demand (production sur commande). If 
 production takes place only according as orders come in, 
 over-production becomes impossible. Under capitalism, 
 it is asserted, such a system is out of the question because 
 
 * As a matter of fact, consultations amongst producers have not 
 been able to do more for proportioning production to supply, than 
 the advice of the ordinary agent acting in conjunction with the pro- 
 ducer. Herkner points out (" Hand, der. St." p. 264) that the forma- 
 tion of cartels (which are generally bodies of producers united together 
 under certain understandings as to production or distribution) has 
 in no way affected the occurrence of crises. 
 
SOCIALISM 213 
 
 each competitor is eager to forestall all the rest, and 
 to take all the profits to himself. He will, therefore, 
 produce before orders are received so as to be ready 
 for demand when it arises. Under socialism the absence 
 of competition removes the need of all this feverish 
 anxiety to anticipate demand.* 
 
 The objections to this device need only to be very 
 briefly stated. First, one does not set up expensive 
 machinery in order to keep it idle half the year between 
 the arrival of one order and another ; one sets up ex- 
 pensive machinery in order to work it all the time, else 
 it means loss to its owner. Secondly, it is only by pro- 
 ducing before orders are received that orders can, 
 generally speaking, be met. If no winter clothing is 
 made until orders have actually arrived many persons 
 would be left without winter clothing. And not only 
 according to this theory, could boots not be made and 
 garments not be cut and sewn, or machines not con- 
 structed before orders are actually received, but leather 
 could not be prepared, nor animals yielding leather 
 reared, nor cotton spun, nor even the ground tilled, 
 nor steel prepared, nor could any raw material be pro- 
 duced until orders for the finished article had first been 
 duly delivered. Such conclusions show the inner weak- 
 ness of the whole system of production sur commande. 
 Anticipation is as necessary as production itself for 
 meeting market demand. Finally, as we said before, 
 one of the functions of supply, a function of very great 
 importance in actual business affairs, is to create demand. 
 " Production on demand" excludes the exercise of this 
 function and consequently cuts off one of the chief 
 sources of a country's wealth. We cannot, therefore, 
 agree that it is possible to avoid the occurrence of crises 
 under the socialist system through the process known 
 as production sur commande. And, therefore, we are 
 
 * Landry describes this sociaUst device in his " Manuel d'Econo- 
 mique," p. 539. An able criticism of the theory is to be found in 
 Seligman's work already quoted, 
 
214 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 forced to the conclusion that over-production will still 
 have to be regarded as a possible cause of crises in the 
 socialist era as well as now. 
 
 The results of our reasoning in the present section are 
 as follows : under the system of the private ownership 
 of capital, crises have been no doubt of frequent occur- 
 rence^ But the danger of them, is gradually being 
 eliminated and their consequences are becoming of less 
 and less importance in the economic world. Under 
 socialism, crises will occur just as under capitalism, since 
 all the causes of crises will continufe in the socialist era. 
 Our reasoning, however, in the following chapter, will 
 go to show that the nation at large will be under much 
 less favourable conditions in the socialist State than 
 now for bearing the burden of crises when they arise. 
 
 The Exploitation of Labour 
 
 This and the next two arguments of Marx were of 
 the nature of prophecy, and, therefore, they may be 
 briefly disposed of by the test of actual accomplished 
 fact. 
 
 Want of space forbids our quoting at length Marx's 
 terrible indictment against capitalism, under the head 
 of " exploitation." The capitalist, he tells us, endeav- 
 ours to make all the profit he can out of the labourer. 
 He does so in three ways, first, by lowering the male 
 labourer's wage to the bare subsistence level, and also 
 by employing women and children at a wage below this 
 level ; secondly, by prolongation of the working day, 
 allowing the labourer only just so much rest in each 
 twenty-four hours as will fit him to continue his dreary 
 work during the next twenty-four ; * thirdly, by in- 
 creased intensification of labour, by speeding up 
 
 * We are conscious of the inadequacy, amounting almost to unfair- 
 ness, of our presentation of Marx's powerful argument here. It is 
 only want of space that forbids our quoting him at length. The 
 argument is given in Vol. II. ch. xv. of " Capital." 
 
SOCIALISM 215 
 
 machinery to its utmost, and placing the workman 
 over just as many high-speed machine* as he is able 
 to control without losing control over his own reason. 
 The indictment is a terrible one, and as a picture of 
 the workings of capitalism in Marx's time it probably 
 is not exaggerated. Indeed, even now there is much of 
 Marx's description that accords with the actual con- 
 ditions obtaining in our factories. 
 
 But Marx's 'argument was intended to stand for more 
 than a mere statement of the condition of things ob- 
 taining at any particular period. It was intended as 
 a statement of the abiding condition of labour under 
 capitalism, of a condition of things that is as necessary 
 under the capitalist system as frost and snow are in 
 the polar regions. As such the argument fails. The 
 greed of capitalists has not been allowed to run riot 
 with the labourer's interests. In every civilised country 
 the capitalist finds himself checked and controlled at 
 many points by governmental interference, by public 
 opinion, and by combinations amongst workmen them- 
 selves. He cannot now employ women and children 
 just as, and on whatever conditions, he desires. He 
 cannot employ even men for more than the legitimate 
 number of hours. In many departments of industry 
 the weekly half-holiday is now prescribed by law. The 
 capitalist must also set aside some of the surplus-value 
 of labour in order to provide the proper amount of light 
 and air, and to meet the other requirements of the 
 factory laws as to sanitation. He must insure his men 
 against sickness and accident. He must protect their 
 lives by the adoption of stringent precautions in regard 
 to danger arising from machinery. In innumerable 
 ways the danger of exploitation has been reduced, so 
 that it cannot now be said that capitalism is a system 
 based on exploitation. 
 
 Nevertheless much remains to be done both by govern- 
 ment and by combinations amongst workmen them- 
 selves. There are capitalists who, if left to themselves, 
 
2i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 would be certain to take advantage of the labourer's 
 poverty, which it is said, will at times induce the labourer 
 to do almost anything for almost nothing ! It may be 
 said even that most capitalists would do so. But in 
 order to determine the essential characteristics of the 
 capitalist system one must take account not merely of 
 what capitalists would, if unchecked, be likely to do, 
 but also of what government has done and is still able 
 to do, and of the capacity of organised labour to protect 
 its own interest, first by way of direct action, and, 
 secondly, indirectly, through their influence over govern- 
 ment ; and judging by this standard it is certain that 
 exploitation is not essential to the system of private 
 capital. 
 
 But again, just as in the question of crises, so also 
 in regard to exploitation, our findings of the chapter to 
 follow are of immense importance in any comparison 
 of private capitalism with socialism. Overwork, work 
 under unsanitary conditions, and the other evils con- 
 tained under " exploitation " are all so many particular 
 grievances going to show that the welfare of the work- 
 man is not attained under capitalism. But the central 
 and essential condition of welfare is the remuneration 
 which a man receives for his work. Where the re- 
 muneration is good the other grievances are certain 
 gradually .to be remedied. In a system that does not 
 allow of a proper remuneration there is no kind of ex- 
 ploitation that may not be practised, since there will 
 be no money to provide the required amenities. Now, 
 under socialism, the remuneration of labour will be far 
 below the level at which it now stands. Indeed, under 
 socialism, as we shall see in the next chapter, a prospect 
 even more alarming than that of insufficient remunera- 
 tion has to be contemplated, viz. the prospect of national 
 bankruptcy with all that this condition means for a 
 |ar^e industrial proletariat. 
 
SOCIALISM 217 
 
 The Reserve Army of Labour 
 
 Under the capitalist system, Marx tells fis, there must 
 always exist a reserve army of labour, that is, of un- 
 employed. These are thrown out of work partly through 
 crises, and partly through the capacity of machinery to 
 render men superfluous. What is more, this reserve 
 army must always be on the increase. Every improve- 
 ment in machinery and every increase in the number 
 of machines leads to further disemployment ; and since, 
 as we have already seen, more and more of the surplus 
 profit of industry- is turned into machinery as profits 
 increase, it follows that the number of the unemployed 
 must necessarily become at each period a relatively 
 greater per-centaqe of the entire population.* 
 
 Reply. — Let us first accept the argument in the sense 
 in which socialists usually understand it, namely, that, 
 under capitalism, unemployment tends to increase, in 
 which sense alone it can be regarded as a serious indict- 
 ment against the capitalist system. As a statement of 
 the facts the argument is false in every way. There has 
 been no increase in the number of unemployed in Eng- 
 land from the year 1865 till the present time. The 
 following list of per-centages of employed within the 
 ranks of trades unionists is given by Webb j: — 
 
 I865-I87I . 
 
 . 98.7 per cent 
 
 I872-I88I . 
 
 . 98-9 .. 
 
 I882-I888 . 
 
 . 96.8 „ 
 
 I889-I898 . 
 
 . 98.3 „ 
 
 I899-I907 . 
 
 . 98.4 „ 
 
 * This is the sense in which Marx's words are usually understood — 
 " The labouring population," he writes (Vol. II. 645), " therefore, 
 produces, along with the accumulation of capital produced by it, 
 the means by which itself is made relatively superfluous, is turned 
 into a relative surplus popWation and it does this to an always in- 
 creasing extent." We shall see, however, in the text above that this 
 is not the sense in which Marx's argument ought to be understood if 
 it is to be regarded as consistent with itself and with the grounds on 
 which it is made to rest. 
 
 I " Pictionary of Statistics," p. 612. 
 
2i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 After that period there was a decided increase in the 
 per-centage of employed. 
 
 More interesting still are the following accounts of 
 the absolute figures of unemployment : between the 
 years 1849-1900, during which the population of Eng- 
 land and Wales rose from seventeen to thirty-two 
 millions odd, the number of unemployed fell from 
 934,419 to 797,630.* Again, in France there were at 
 the end of the nineteenth century about 5,600,000 
 workers. The average number of unemployed, according 
 to the census of 1896-1900, was 300,000. f These in- 
 cluded sick, idle, incapable, and strikers. But even 
 supposing that they were all men capable and willing 
 to work, that is not a bad system which out of 5,600,000 
 men can maintain in employment a permanent 5,300,000. 
 Besides, a large percentage of these belong to Paris — 
 the city of the poor and unemployed. These, indeed, 
 are always very numerous. Nevertheless it has been 
 pointed out by M. Leroy-Beaulieu J that the number 
 of unemployed in Paris in 1895 was not greater than that 
 of 1803 although the population had increased fourfold 
 in the interval. 
 
 In Germany the number of unemployed is even less 
 than in England. In 1895 the unemployed in Germany 
 represented in summer time only .58% of the entire 
 population § and in winter 1.48, or an average of 
 1.03% for the whole year, a very small per-ceniage in- 
 deed. It, of course, also includes the unwilling, and 
 the incapacitated, as well as those genuinely kept 
 out of employment. 
 
 But economists do not rely on statistics merely for 
 their reply to the socialist arguments ; they point out 
 that from the very nature of our modern system of 
 
 * Quoted by M. Leroy-Beaulieu in his'' Le Collectivisme," p. 317. 
 
 f Figures are given by Mermeix, " Le Socialisme, " p. 228. 
 
 t P- 322. 
 
 § In fairness we should add that of the working population in the 
 same year the unemployed constituted 1.35 and 3.46 per cent. (See 
 Art. Arbeitslosjgkeit in " Hand, der, St."), 
 
SOCIALISM 219 
 
 production it is clear that unemployment cannot go on 
 increasing except during the very brief periods that are 
 required for adjustment between new discoveries on 
 the one hand and the opening of new markets and 
 the setting up of the allied industries on the other. 
 Machinery may momentarily disemploy a certain num- 
 ber, but by cheapening goods it opens up new markets 
 for them, and thus increases demand again. The disem- 
 ployed are then reinstated in their old positions. Again, 
 most new inventions bring into being a number of allied 
 or dependent businesses, and in this way, though tem- 
 porary unemployment may occur, the balance of em- 
 ployment is always being restored.* 
 
 Finally, as has already been said, according to Marx 
 himself the law of increase in the per-centage of un- 
 employed is a law of relative increase only. But relative 
 to what ? Most socialists maintain that increase in 
 unemployment must necessarily be relative to the total 
 population, i.e. that if at one period the unemployed 
 are one per-cent. of the population, at another they will 
 constitute two per-cent., at another three per-cent. This 
 is the sense in which we have hitherto been interpreting 
 Marx's argument, and it is the only sense in which the 
 argument could, if true, be made to tell against the 
 capitalistic system. As a matter of fact, however, this 
 is not the sense which Marx himself intended to convey. 
 He even confesses that with the creation of new 
 machinery the new " factory operatives . . . may be- 
 come more numerous than the manufacturing workmen 
 and handicraftsmen that have been displaced." f But 
 he claims that there is always a relative decrease, in 
 the sense that a much smaller proportion of the surplus- 
 profit of labour must always go in payment of wages 
 to the newly employed than that which is put into the 
 new machinery. But this relative decrease in the 
 
 * On this point see Marshall, op. cit. p 665, and Chapman, 
 " Political Economy " (Home University Library, p. 223 and 226). 
 t Vol. II. p. 451. ■ 
 
220 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 number of employed is, we claim, quite consistent with 
 decrease in the number of the unemployed, and even 
 with the total elimination of unemployment ; and, 
 therefore, in this sense the argument is of no avail 
 against the capitalist system. What harm, even though 
 much money has to go into machinery, if thereby the 
 wages-bill of the nation as well as the number of 
 employed receive substantial increase ? 
 
 Let it not be understood, however, that it is any part 
 of our purpose here to minimise the dreadful evils of 
 unemployment. It is one of the first duties devolving 
 on any government to check these evils, and not to 
 leave the unfortunate workman at the mercy of every 
 adverse wind that blows in the industrial world. The 
 question, however, how unemployment is actually to 
 be met is one that lies beyond the scope of the present 
 v/ork.* 
 
 The Iron Law of Wages 
 
 A direct result of the maintenance under the capitalistic 
 system of the reserve army of unemployed is, say the 
 socialists, the setting up of an " iron law of wages," 
 the law, viz. that workmen find themselves so com- 
 pletely at the mercy of the capitalist, and so hard set 
 to find employment that they are willing to accept em- 
 ployment on any terms, even to accepting such a re- 
 muneration as barely suffices to keep body and soul 
 together. The capitalist is not unwilling to utilise this 
 necessitous condition of his employees, on the contrary, 
 he exerts all his influence^to keep them in that position, 
 and so in employing labour he strikes the hardest 
 bargain possible, which is that of the bare subsistence 
 wage. Wages may sometimes rise above this level. 
 But their tendency is to remain always as little over it 
 as possible. This is the " iron law of wages," a law 
 first formulated by Lassalle and later adopted by Marx. 
 
 * See Chapman, " Political Economy," p. 341 ; also Beveridgg, 
 " UneHiployment." 
 
SOCIALISM 221 
 
 Reply. — ^This argument, like the last, may be answered 
 by an appeal to facts. Have wages tenfled to remain 
 at the bare subsistence level ? All authorities, including 
 even the best known socialist writers, admit that in this 
 matter the Marxian prophecy has remained unfulfilled. 
 " Political Economy," writes Prof. Cannan,* " in these 
 days knows no iron or brazen law of wages." The 
 following facts are sufficiently indicative of the reason 
 why the " iron law of wages " is not now accepted by 
 economist or statistician. The wages of labour have 
 increased both relatively and absolutely. " In France," 
 writes Sombart.f " an official enquiry at the Oifice du 
 Travail showed that wages had been doubled since 
 1850 . . . the cost of living has not increased by more 
 than 25%." Sidney Webb | points out that in England, 
 between the years 1837 and 1897, money wages doubled. 
 The price of food on the other hand, with the exception 
 of meat and milk, was lower in the latter year than 
 in the former. Only rent had risen. Giffen, in his 
 " Essays in Finance," § shows that in the fifty years 
 anterior to 1883 wages had risen for the most part about 
 50%. In some cases, indeed, wages advanced only 20% ; 
 but these were all cases in which the wages received 
 had always stood at a high level, e.g. the case of mule- 
 spinners whose wages even fifty years ago varied from 
 25s. 6d. per week to 30s. In some cases wages rose as 
 much as 150%. Again, he shows, that whereas wages 
 have risen in the way described, the , hours of labour 
 have fallen by 20%. " The workman," he writes, " gets 
 from 50 to 100% more money for 20% less work ; in 
 round numbers he has gained from 70 to 120% in fifty 
 years in money return." As regards purchasing power 
 he writes : " there seems to be little doubt things are 
 
 * " The Economic Outlook," p. 77. 
 
 t op. cit. p. 85. Sombart, as already stated, is professor of 
 Political Economy in the commercial college (Handelshochschule) 
 of Berlin. He is also a Socialist. 
 
 % " Industrial Democracy," Appendix III. Sidney Webb is also 
 a Socialist. 
 
 §P- 372- 
 
222 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 much the same as they were fifty years ago." The price 
 of wheat is lower, and this low average, he remarks, 
 " is enhanced by the fact that it is not an average lying 
 between widely distant extremes." The only article, 
 we are told,* which has increased in price is meat, but 
 this rise is largely due to the fact that the consumption 
 of meat amongst the working classes is so much greater 
 than it was. 
 
 Of Germany, Sombart writes : " The facts are the 
 same in Germany. There is no doubt that the majority 
 of the working classes are better off than they were 
 fifty or one hundred years ago, and that the proportion 
 of the very poor of the population is smaller, certainly 
 during the last decade or so. In Saxony, for -example, 
 in 1879 the people with an income less than 500 Mk. 
 formed 51.5% of the population ; in 1894 they were 
 only 36.59% ; in igoo only 28.29%." 
 
 The foregoing figures and others to be found in recent 
 economic writings are regarded by all thinkers, even 
 those who belong to the socialist school, as affording a 
 complete refutation of Marx's " iron law of wages." 
 
 * p. 380. As regards more recent years we find it exceedingly 
 difficult to reach anything like a general yet sufSciently definite 
 conclusion with which to compare the figures given above. In this 
 matter the variation of opinion is quite bewildering. Thus, Mr. 
 L. G. Chiozza Money, in an article in the Daily News and Leader, 
 February 20th, 1913, writes that " the purchasing power of the 
 sovereign in relation to ' other things ' has fallen by at least 10% 
 since 1895. . . . Cash wages fortunately have not remained stationary 
 since 1895. They have risen broadly by about I2j% in 1895-1911. 
 It will be obvious, however, that such a rise is not nearly enough to 
 compensate for the increased cost of living. Real wages have 
 fallen," etc. In the same paper there appeared an important article 
 written January i6th, 1914, to the efiect that the prices of all manu- 
 factured articles had fallen considerably " from old days." This 
 second fact does not seem to have been taken sufficiently into account 
 in the first article. We are, however, prepared to admit that real 
 wages have fallen in the sense that the purchasing power of the 
 sovereign has fallen of recent years. It is just one of those many 
 cases in which readjustment is slow to appear. That wages will rise 
 to right this fall in purchasing power is certain. But adjustment 
 should be hastened by means of pressure brought to bear upon govern- 
 ment, and through action on the part of the organised societies of 
 labour. The poor cannot, as the rich can, await the process of auto- 
 matic adjustment. The foregoing facts, however, in no way confirm 
 the theory of an " iron law of wages." 
 
SOCIALISM 223 
 
 Some recent modifications of the theory of the " Iron Law of 
 Wages." • 
 
 For the foregoing reasons we find that the supposed " iron 
 law " ha? been made to undergo modifications at the hands 
 of the more recent sociahsts which entirely alter its character 
 and meaning. It has lost in definiteness but has gained in 
 width of application. The new " iron law " may be sum- 
 marised as follows : * — [a) although the wages of labour are 
 not found to remain at the bare subsistence level, neverthe- 
 less the natural tendency of capitalists is to keep them at 
 that level ; (6) though wages have increased, the moral 
 condition of the worker has not improved. Factories are 
 still sinks of iniquity. Workmen are still treated by their 
 masters as slaves, not as men ; (c) though physiologically 
 the lot of workmen is improved in the sense that they eat 
 more and wear better clothes, psychologically their inisery is 
 increased, since, as civilisation grows, the needs of workmen, 
 as of all other classes, grow, and the increased wage of labour 
 is not sufficient to meet those expanding needs. Fifty 
 years ago workmen did not need to be educated ; now 
 education is an essential of civihsed life. Yet most work- 
 men can afford to give their children only the minimum of 
 education ; {d) the proletariat is poorer in the sense that 
 it is relatively poorer than it was fifty years ago. It receives 
 a gradually diminishing share of the ever increasing returns 
 of industry. 
 
 Reply. — In general the foregoing arguments seem to aim 
 at epitomising all the evils of capitahsm. But every system, 
 even that of the socialists, has its defects. And the question 
 is whether socialism would not induce evils graver and more 
 numerous than those of capitalism. This latter question we 
 shall review in one of its most important aspects, that, 
 viz. of the receipts of workmen, in the following chapter. 
 Let us briefly, however, refer to the different classes of 
 defects here enumerated by the socialists. [a) That 
 capitaUsts would be bad if they could we shall admit at 
 least for the sake of argument. But, after all, the tendency 
 of capitalists to keep down wages makes very little difference 
 to workmen if as a matter of fact the wages of workmen are 
 found actually to increase. The sea would certainly engulf 
 swimmers if they made no struggle to keep afloat, yet, since 
 men do find it possible to keep afloat, the sea is not looked 
 
 * A large part of Kautsky's able work, " Le Marxisme et son 
 Critique Bernstein," is devoted to an elaboration of this new " iron 
 law." 
 
224 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 upon as an enemy to mankind. (6) We have much sym- 
 pathv with the complaints of sociahsts m regard to the 
 moral degradation of factory operatives, and we behave 
 that government should do more to raise their condition, 
 or at all events to remove the causes of degradation. But 
 we are not so sure that the principal causes of this degrada- 
 tion will be removed by making all factories the property 
 of the State. A little thought will make it clear to the 
 reader that there are moral evils which no economic system 
 could entirely remove, (c) The increasing needs of labour 
 are partly due to increase in good living, according to the 
 well-known rule that the more a man has the more he wants, 
 and partly through the general advance of civilisation. 
 Now it is obvious that capitalism should not be repudiated 
 for increasing the needs of workmen in the first of the two 
 ways here indicated, any more than food is condemned for 
 increasing a man's need of further food by the additional 
 vigour that it imparts. If, however, it is found that the 
 labourer's income does not expand according as the needs 
 of civiUsation increase, then indeed the socialists have a 
 case, not necessarily for estabhshing sociahsm, but for 
 bringing such pressure to bear on government and capitalists 
 as will ensure to workmen such an income and such oppor- 
 tunities for development as each succeeding advance in 
 civilisation requires, {d) We quite agree that workmen do 
 not at present receive their proper proportion of the national 
 dividend in the form of wages, and that steps will have to 
 be taken to remove such injustices from our present system. 
 But the question arises — Will the receipts of labour be 
 greater under socialism than they are under capitalism with 
 all its defects and injustices, real and alleged ? Our answer 
 to this question, which is of prime importance, will be given 
 in the following chapter, where we hope to show that the 
 share of the national income available for labpur will certainly 
 not be greater under the socialist regime than it is now — 
 on the contrary, for the greater body of workmen, and in 
 particular for the whole body of skilled mechanics, it will 
 be much less.* 
 
 • We may be allowed at the close of the present chapter to record 
 our opinion that whatever may be said of others there is one class of 
 workman whose interests will require to be especially cared for in 
 any new scheme of wages that government may think of initiating 
 under the present system of private capital. We refer to the unskilled 
 hands, whose wages are certainly well below the minimum required 
 by humanity and justice, and who by their very numbers and poor 
 condition are placed so much at the mercy of unscrupulous capitalists. 
 See the question of the wages-contract, p. 343. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 PRESENT WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 
 COMPARED 
 
 Before proceeding to discuss the problem of the 
 national dividend under socialism and how it compares 
 with present wages, we think it necessary to make a 
 few introductory remarks on the general position of 
 present-day wage-earners as compared with that which 
 the masses are to occupy under socialism. 
 
 Under the capitalist system the workers are all wage- 
 earners. Now what is the meaning of this term, " wage- 
 earner," in which, the socialists tell us, are summed up 
 all the evils attendant upon the capitalist system ? A 
 wage-earner is usually understood to mean one who is 
 in daily or weekly receipt of a certain agreed sum for 
 work done in the interest of his employer. And this 
 definition is true so far as it goes ; but it fails to specify 
 what, to our mind, is the chief characteristic of the 
 wage-earner's position in the industrial world to-day, 
 viz. that not only is he paid his wages at regular and 
 brief intervals, but he is paid the full agreed sum, 
 whether the profits of the undertaking go up or down, 
 or even if these profits disappear altogether. His position 
 in this respect is in marked contrast to that of the 
 capitalist. The capitalist is, indeed, owner of the 
 firm which he sets up and controls, but when the con- 
 cern which is his property fails, i.e. when it ceases to 
 be a source of profit to its owner, then all that he has 
 contributed to the firm is lost irretrievably, the money 
 which he has expended in machinery and buildings, the 
 wages paid, the time and attention given ; very often, 
 long before a capitalist business is finally wound up, and 
 long after failure has begun to set in, the capitalist may 
 
 VOL. II 15 225 
 
226 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 still be working at a loss, but the wage-earner must 
 still in every case receive the stipulated wage. His is 
 the first claim on the concern, and, failing the concern, 
 on the pocket of the capitalist himself. At present 
 there are millions and millions of pounds invested in 
 industrial and other concerns in England from which 
 capitalists receive no return ; but the workman is paid 
 his full wages in every case. In railways alone in the 
 United Kingdom there is invested at present in ordinary 
 stock no less a sum than £67,000,000 on which no dividend 
 is paid ; preference and debenture railway shares absorb 
 nearly eighteen millions of «on-dividend-bearing capital. 
 There are private steel works in England in which large 
 bodies of men continue to be employed, which, yet, 
 yield in some cases a merely nominal profit, in other 
 cases no profit whatsoever. Yet the workmen are 
 fully paid in every case. It would be difficult to state the 
 total amount of capital lost each year in the industrial 
 world generalty through unprofitable businesses ; but it 
 is computed * that in the United Kingdom a hundred 
 rtiillions are annually invested and lost in unremunerative 
 concerns of one kind or another. We do not claim that 
 in these cases the capitalist is actuated bj' any philan- 
 thropic or other high motive in still paying wages for 
 work that has ceased to be remunerative to himself. 
 As long as capitalist concerns continue in existence it is 
 evident that hopes are still entertained that failure will 
 ultimately be turned into success, and that they will 
 bring a profit to the capitalist. Neither are we attempt- 
 ing to discover any special excellence in the position of 
 the wage-earner as compared with that of the present- 
 day capitalist. Indeed, it is not our purpose to con- 
 trast or compare their positions in any way. For the 
 present we are simply attempting to define the position 
 ot the wage-earner t undei capitalism in order to com- 
 
 • Ireson, " The People's Progress," p. 106. 
 
 t We do not claim that the wages system is the best of all systems 
 for securing thp wel are of the masses. Far better would it be in 
 many respects if the masses were property-holders as in times long 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 227 
 
 pare it with the position which workmen are in future 
 to occupy under the socialist regime. Our sole con- 
 tention at present is that, whatever may be the actuating 
 motive of the capitalist, and however well or badly 
 capitalists may fare in their respective enterprises, the 
 position of the wage-earner always is that as long as 
 he continues to be employed the law assures him his 
 full weekly wage. 
 
 Under socialism the workers will no longer be wage- 
 earners but partners in the nation's wealth. They will 
 receive, not a settled and permanent weekly wage, but 
 a certain annual or bi-annual share in the varying profits 
 of the nation. They will share, therefore, in all the 
 increasing prosperity of the nation ; but they will 
 share in its losses, too — in the decreases as well as in 
 the increases. On which side the balance is likely to 
 occur, whether on the side of profit or of loss, or whether 
 the socialist workman's share of the profits is likely to 
 be greater or less than the average wages paid under 
 capitalism, is the question with which this chapter is 
 concerned, and which we now go on to consider. 
 
 Our difficulty here is to select a standard country 
 and a standard period on which to base our comparison. 
 Wages differ in different countries and at different 
 periods. The national income varies in a similar manner. 
 We make bold, however, in our present discussion to 
 select England as our standard country,* and the year 
 1904-5 as our standard year. Our.-.choice as regards 
 nationality will easily be understood. England is 'one 
 of the oldest and most developed of all industrial 
 countries, and the conditions of employment obtaining 
 there represent the normal relations of capitalist to 
 employee more clearly than is elsewhere the case. The 
 particular year selected needs justification. The year 
 
 past. For the present our purpose is to show that the position of 
 wage-earners is better than that of the masses under the socialist 
 State. 
 
 * Other countries will also come up for discussion in the course 
 of our argument. 
 
228 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 1904-5 was a normal year industrially regarded. There 
 was no extraordinary boom in trade and no exceptional 
 amount of depression, and it is the normal conditions 
 that are of importance in our present discussion. Also 
 in regard to this year there is available the important 
 evidence given before the Select Committee on Income 
 Tax in 1906.* Again, since 1905, there has been ample 
 time to examine the distribution of income in that year 
 and to build re'flections on it, so that there is now 
 available a large amount of literature, socialist and 
 otherwise, occupied with the distribution of income, in 
 this and proximate years ; and though agreement is 
 far from established, even amongst socialist writers, as 
 to the exact figures in these cases, still, materials are 
 presented to us which will enable any student to form a 
 general idea of the national income and its distribution, 
 sufficiently accurate for purposes of our present com- 
 parison. There are, as we said, divergencies of view 
 as to the right figures, but fortunately, such is the 
 character of the considerations on which our comparison 
 is to be based, that even very wide divergencies of view 
 may be allowed for, without in any way lessening the 
 value of our conclusion as to the relative merits of the 
 two economic systems now under examination. 
 
 In the year 1904-5, according to the calculations of 
 Sir Henry Primrose,t the national income was roughly 
 1,750 millions. That income was divided as follows : 
 
 * See Report, 365. 
 
 f Sir Henry Primrose was Chairman of the Board of Inland Revenue. 
 His evidence given before the Committee on income tax in 1906 occurs 
 on pp. I and following of report 365. 
 
 Before asking the reader to consider the figures given in the text 
 we wish to make a few preparatory remarks. 
 
 First, we ask the reader not to begin the reading of our argument 
 with the belief that figures may be made to prove anything. By no 
 feat of mathematical jugglery could you represent five pounds as 
 yielding a pound each to six persons. Our argument concerns the 
 division of the national income, and used aright the figures can yield 
 but one valid conclusion. 
 
 Secondly, we wish to point out that Sir Henry Primrose's figures 
 stand for a sensible mean reading of the various views obtaining on 
 this subject. Thus Sir Robert Gifien gives 1,750 millions as the 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 229 
 
 728 millions was income subject to income-tax,* and, 
 therefore, was appropriated by persdhs earning over 
 £160 a year. The remainder, i.e. 1,022 millions was the 
 income of persons not paying income-tax. According 
 to Mr. Ireson's estimate this latter sum was divided 
 between [a) non-manual wage-earners (clerks, teachers, 
 etc.), (6) manual wage-earners (smiths, boiler-makers, 
 
 income of 1903. Mr. Chiozza Money represents the income of 1907 
 by the same figure. These figures cannot both be right. 
 
 Thirdly, Mr. Chiozza Money represents the national income as 
 standing at a lower figure than that given by Sir H. Primrose. In 
 1903-4 he tells us it was 1,710 millions. It would be a little more in 
 1904-5. This lower figure is ilsed by Mr. Chiozza Money to show 
 how small is the proportion of the national income going to the working 
 classes or those who do not pay income tax the amount received by 
 the income tax-payers being known, and absorbing, he tells us, nearly 
 half the whole sum. Now at present we are not considering the 
 question whether a fair proportion of the national income goes to the 
 working classes. We believe that they do not get a fair proportion. 
 At present, however, the problem before us is different from this. 
 We are comparing the position of the workman in regard to income 
 under capitalism and under socialism, and the point which we wish 
 to bring out in the present note is, that if Mr. Chiozza Money's figures 
 represent a genuine grievance of the working classes, they also tell 
 against socialism, in fact, they prejudice the socialist position from the 
 start. If the national income in the year under examination were 
 1,710 millions, as Mr. Money states, and not 1,750 millions, then the 
 dividend to be received by each citizen under socialism will be smaller 
 than it would be on Sir Henry Primrose's computation. For this 
 reason, in as much as we do not wish to prejudice the case against 
 sociahsm from the start, and also because Sir Henry Primrose's 
 figures seem more convincing in themselves, we adopt the latter's 
 account of the national income in 1904-5. 
 
 Our fourth point is that whether we accept the figures given by 
 Sir Henry Primrose or others given by other witnesses before the 
 Committee on Income Tax, makes hardly any, if any, difierence to 
 the conclusion which we shall finally draw from these figures. As is 
 said in the text such is the character of our present enquiry that very 
 large differences might be allowed without in any way affecting the 
 final result. 
 
 In the last place we wish to warn the reader against certain most 
 misleading statements of the national income in which writers do not 
 hesitate to put down as true income what in reality is stated in the 
 Inland Revenue reports to be only the amount reviewed for purposes 
 of assessments. Of this over 200 millions is over-assessment, and 
 much of this 200 millions is not received by anybody in the land. 
 This is clearly expressed in the Inland Revenue Reports themselves. 
 A most glaring misrepresentation of this kind is found in the well- 
 known Fabian tract, " Facts for Socialists," No. 5. 
 
 * This figure was an estimate ; it fell below the actual returns 
 published later, by a negligible quantity. 
 
 It is claimed by some writers that the figure given in the text 
 
230 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 miners, etc., as well as unskilled labourers), and (c) in- 
 competents and casuals occupied on irregular and un- 
 certain work. Now of this 1,022 millions by far the 
 largest sum went to the second class, viz. (manual wage- 
 earners) — in all it amounted to about 750 millions. 
 The non-manual wage-earners received about 247 
 millions, and the incompetents and casuals about 25 
 millions. 
 
 Now let us see what is the meaning of these figures 
 in terms of family income. There were in England, in 
 the year under discussion, about ten million families, 
 one million of which were rich, in the sense that they 
 paid income-tax, the other nine millions of which were 
 poor in the sense that they paid no income-tax. These 
 latter we speak of as working families. Striking an 
 average we find that the average income earned by these 
 working families in the year 1905 was £113 per family.* 
 
 as representing the sum on which income tax is paid is too low since 
 it takes no account of evasions in income tax returns. Now in the 
 report of the Select Committee on income tax of 1906 it is pointed out 
 that on four-fifths of the national income there is no room whatever 
 for evasion, since the tax is either assessed at the source or because 
 the use of certain special regulations makes evasion impossible. On 
 the remaining one-fifth only a comparatively small amount of evasion 
 can take place, and, as Mr. Ireson points out, even this amount is 
 " more than counterbalanced " by the fact that many people pay on 
 an assessed income which is much above the true income, and also 
 that in assessing income no allowance is made for loss of capital due 
 to bad investments, unsuccessful trading, etc. Income tax is paid on 
 all income, even such part of it as is later invested in things that 
 turn out to be a failure. The true net income, therefore, taking two 
 or three years together will be less than the sum given in the assess- 
 ment returns. See very interesting discussion on this subject in 
 Mr. Ireson 's book, " The People's Progress," ch. x. and xi. 
 
 * We make no apology for the following lengthy quotation from 
 Mr. Ireson's book (p. 8) : " The figure (;£ii3) is slightly higher than 
 is admitted by any of the Socialist statisticians, but in this connection 
 attention may be drawn to the following, written in 1909 : ' The 
 expenditure in poor relief in England and Wales is about 14 millions. 
 The cost of old age pensions must be placed at another 8 millions. 
 In addition to this there is a very large outlay by charitable institu- 
 tions in London alone according to the latest issue of the Annual 
 Charities Register an income of over ten millions is annually expended 
 by charitable agencies. If we allow half as much more for the rest 
 of the country, nearly 40 millions is, in one way or another, being 
 expended on the poor. In addition to this there is 20 millions, raised 
 by taxation, applied to the education of the children of the masses, 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 231 
 
 Of course this is an average lying between very wide 
 extremes, and it is important for our present diecussicn 
 that these extremes should be noted. The 750 millions 
 earned by manual labour were earned by about 6 million 
 families receiving an average of £125 per family. The 
 247 mi" lions that went to non-manual labour were 
 divided between 2 million families, giving an average 
 a little below the last figure (£123) whilst the 25 millions 
 absorbed by the incompetents and casuals were the 
 earnings of a million families. Again, we have to point 
 out that the earnings of the manual labourers were 
 very varied. Of the 750 millions earned by manual 
 labour, about 75 millions went to unskilled artisans 
 earning less than a pound a week. In England there 
 were about a million and a half such families. The 
 rest, i.e. 675 millions went to skilled labour representing 
 4I million families, who, therefore, enjoyed an average 
 income of some £150 a year.* From the foregoing state- 
 ment let us recall certain salient figures which it is 
 important to bear in mind in connection with the com- 
 parison to follow. The total income of the United Kingdom 
 in the year 1905 was about 1,750 millions. Of this about 
 1,022 millions went to the poor, that is, to persons earning 
 less than £160 a year. The average income of each poor 
 family including the very poorest, i.e. the incompetent and 
 casuals was £113. The largest section of these (i.e. the 
 4l million families of the skilled manual workers) received 
 £150 a year on an average. Also taking skilled manual 
 
 thus bringing the total up to 60 millions annually." This last sum 
 in Mr. Ireson's statement needs, however, to be lessened. Much of 
 it is itself subscribed by the poor, in indirect taxation. But whether 
 the sum ^113 is somewhat larger than the average wage of the workman 
 or is not, afiects, as we have already said, our present discussion in 
 only a very slight degree, if at all. This will be seen from the nature 
 of the considerations in the text above. 
 
 * This sum may to the reader appear high. But two points have 
 to be remembered. First, we are dealing here with skilled artisans, 
 many of whom earn up to three pounds per week. Secondly, we are 
 dealing with artisans' families (not individuals), in which there are 
 often two or three wage-earners. In the Referee, July i8th, 1909, 
 Mr. Sims gives evidence that many workmen's families in England, 
 by their joint income, earn treble and quadruple the above sum. 
 
232 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 with skilled non-manual workers (i.e. smiths, boiler-makers, 
 carpenters, etc., on the one hand, and the less opulent clerks, 
 etc., on the other) we find that of this immense body of 
 workers (6^ million families out of the g million families 
 that make up the masses, and out of the ten million families 
 that make up the entire population) the average income 
 amounted to £142 * a year. 
 
 Our next step in the present discussion is to determine 
 the average income of the working-man's family under 
 the socialist system. Here, of course, we are met at 
 the outset by the difficulty that socialists are not agreed 
 as to the manner in which the national income is to be 
 divided under the new regime. Some are for equal 
 distribution all round, others are for graded distribution 
 according to the value of the work done, the amount of 
 labour expended, or the disagreeableness of the em- 
 ployment. Of some of these systems we shall have 
 to take account in the computation to follow. But, 
 whatever the system of distribution adopted, the first 
 problem to be solved, a problem which is in no way 
 affected by the question of the system of payment to 
 be applied, is that of the total amount of money avail- 
 able for annual distribution under the socialist scheme. 
 In this connection we naturally resume our consideration 
 of the sum of money available in the year 1905. In 
 that year, as we saw, the total income of the United 
 Kingdom amounted to 1,750 millions. Now it is 
 evident that not all of this immense sum would be 
 available for distribution upder socialism. On the 
 
 * Ireson, Table B. Mr. Chiozza Money, in " Riches and Poverty," 
 gives figures which would place the average income of this last class 
 at ;£i2o per family. Mr. Ireson demonstrates fully that this figure is 
 too low. But, as we said before, for purposes of our computation 
 we might easily accept it, without in the least affecting the conclusion 
 to which our argument leads. Also, if Mr. Chiozza Money's figure 
 is to stand he must be prepared to accept the logical conclusion already 
 referred to (p. 229). His figure brings down the total income of the 
 nation below the figure given by Mr. Ireson, and, therefore, reduces 
 correspondingly the dividend possible under socialism — a consequence, 
 as we said before, most unfavourable to socialism as compared with 
 the present wages system. 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 233 
 
 contrary, before distribution could be begun, several 
 important deductions would have to be*inade for one 
 or other of the many purposes inseparable from industry. 
 In the first place a very large sum would have to be 
 deducted from the public national income (as it is now 
 deducted, for the most part, from the capitalist's 
 private income) for purposes of renewal and increase of 
 capital, i.e. of plant, and of buildings, since without 
 increase of capital, industry could not continue to make 
 progress, and, without renewal, industry could not even 
 be maintained. Now, in 1913, according to Mr. Chiozza 
 Money,* a sum of 350 millions would be required under 
 this heading. We are safe then in claiming that in the 
 year 1905 a sum of 250 millions was spent. Allowing 
 50 millions f out of this sum for wages, which amount 
 would of course be available for distribution under 
 socialism, we find the available income reduced to 
 1,550 millions. 
 
 From this again a second deduction will have to be 
 made under the head of the expenses of government, 
 which expenses, Karl Kautsky tells us,| will be much 
 higher under socialism than under our present regime. 
 Now since under socialism there can be neither income 
 tax, nor local rates, by means of which these expenses 
 are at present so largely met, an equivalent sum will 
 have to be raised, to be deducted from the national 
 income before distribution shall begin. Now in 1905 
 the income-tax of the United Kingdom amounted to 
 31 millions. The amount of public rates collected 
 
 * Daily News and Leader, July i8th, 1913. 
 
 t This sum is really too large. The Board of Trade Memorandum 
 [Cd. 1761] p. 361, allows 10 millions as the wages paid in connection 
 with the maintenance and renewal of the capital used in 1903 in pro- 
 ducing exported goods. And since, according to the Census of Pro- 
 duction returns [Cd. 6320] p. i6, exports are about a third of the 
 total output, the above figure should stand at about 30 millions. 
 But in deference to the socialist case we shall accept the higher figure 
 of 50 millions. Readers who may be surprised at the Board of Trade 
 allowing only 10 millions as wages in connection with the up-keep of 
 the plant and machinery used in producing goods for export should 
 remember that much of the machinery used is not produced at home. 
 
 t " The Morrow of the Social Revolution," p. 17. 
 
234 tHE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 for local purposes was 67 millions,* and therefore, 
 allowing again for the sum now spent in salaries and 
 wages, we must provide in the socialist scheme a re- 
 mainder of, say, ^o millions to defray the expenses of 
 government under the two heaaings of general and local 
 purposes, thus reducing the amount available for dis- 
 tribution to 1,520 millions. 
 
 A third reduction to be effected comes under the 
 heading of " doubly-paid income tax." The real and 
 actual national income as determined on the basis of 
 income-tax is always an over-estimate. A particular 
 individual may pay income-tax on ;^i,ooo, but on much 
 of that same £1,000 income tax is certain to be paid 
 over again, for instance on the £100 which is paid out 
 of it in doctor's fees. Proceeding on the basis of income- 
 tax the total income would here be represented at 
 £1,100, whereas in reality only £1,000 of real divisible 
 income existed. Under socialism, where the money 
 has actually to be divided, only real divisible income 
 must be taken into account, and, therefore, in determin- 
 ing the amount available for distribution under socialism 
 we must deduce from the national income that portion 
 which has been counted twice over in the way described. 
 What is the amount of that portion ? In the year 1886, 
 according to Prof. Leone Levi, the amount of doubly- 
 taxed income was something like 100 millions. It could 
 not be less in 1905. In this way the sum of 1,520 
 millions already computed falls further to 1,420 millions, 
 but lest any unfairness to the socialist case may possibly 
 have escaped us (and we do not think it has) we shall 
 allow for the present the sum to be divided to stand at 
 1,450 millions. 
 
 As yet we have not spoken of other factors that under 
 socialism are certain to bring down the available national 
 income, and of one in particular which will reduce the 
 sum available for distribution by an even greater amount 
 than the total of deductions already considered ; these 
 * Webb, " Dictionary of Statistics," p. 374, 
 
WAGES AKD SOCIALIST INCOMES 535 
 
 additional factors we shall mention presently. But for 
 the moment we wish to review our position and see 
 what the socialist dividend would be if the whole re- 
 maining 1,450 millions were divided amongst the people, 
 a supposition, we repeat, which is over-favourable to 
 socialism, since not only have we already made ex- 
 cessively large concessions to their case, but also re- 
 ductions have yet to be made which are of even greater 
 importance than those which we have hitherto taken 
 into account. 
 
 If the sum of 1,450 millions were divided equally 
 amongst the entire population it is evident that the 
 ten million families that constituted the population of 
 the United Kingdom in the year now under review 
 would each receive £145. The result might then be 
 stated : under socialism the rich shall all be very much 
 poorer, the skilled worker (manual and non-manual) 
 _shall be very little better off (their average at present 
 being £142) ; only the position of the unskilled workers, 
 as well as casuals and incompetents (2| millions out of 
 the total of 10 millions that constitute the nation) shall 
 be improved, but the improvement in this case is sub- 
 stantial and decisive. Let us now examine our sum of 
 1,450 millions from another point of view. 
 
 We know that many socialists maintain that under 
 socialism there will be a gradation of incomes, that the 
 directors of industry will receive more than others, and 
 the skilled and fit more than the unskilled and incom- 
 petent. Indeed, no socialist that we know recommends 
 complete equality. Their only demand is that whatever 
 may be the system of gradation adopted something 
 approaching to a system of equality of income should 
 be observed. It is easy, however, to show that, even 
 allowing for a narrow gradation of incomes, the result, 
 so far as the great body of workers is concerned, will 
 be the same as that already described. Probably 
 the least average * that could be claimed for the 
 
 * This average, it is understood, should lie between closely situate;! 
 extremes. 
 
236 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 unskilled worker's family under the socialist system is 
 £ioo a year, an average that would absorb 260 millions 
 of the available sum. If they received less the whoe 
 , social st theory of equality would fall to the ground. 
 Next come the directors of industry, great and small, 
 the men who between them will control the whole com- 
 mercial system of the nation. We take it that between 
 head directors, managers, and foremen, a million 
 functionaries of . one kind or another will be required. 
 It is a small estimate enough, considering that in 
 France at present 900,000 functionaries are engaged, 
 and that private capitalism is much more sparing 
 of functionaries than is any system of public control. 
 Now these men will to a large extent have the 
 disposal of the money of the nation in their own 
 hands. We think, therefore, that we are not going too 
 far in claiming that they will appoint unto themselves 
 at least salaries of £230 * a year per family, or a further 
 230 millions of the available income. We have thus 
 left for the 6| million skilled workers (manual and non- 
 manual) 960 millions or £148 for each family per annum. f 
 Here again our conclusion is easily stated. The rich 
 and middle classes have all become very much poorer ; 
 the skilled workers who constitute the great bulk of 
 the nation are scarcely better off than at present ; the 
 unskilled and incompetent alone reap any benefit from 
 the change, but the benefit reaped by the unskilled 
 workers is, particularly if we take into account the 
 improvements which their growing sense of solidarity 
 enables them to effect, comparatively small. What 
 now has become of those huge increases of income 
 that are to follow the nationalising of capital? Like 
 the Humbert millions they vanish under the light of 
 
 * Ireson, op. cit., p. 38. We believe the sum would be much 
 larger. But we accept this low figure in deference to the socialist 
 case — it leaves a larger sum for distribution among the people. 
 
 t The computation might have taken the form that if the skilled 
 workers' families earned ;£i48 a year, the ofi&cials' families £2^0, then 
 the unskilled workers wouldi receive ;^i 00, • , 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 237 
 
 serious enquiry. They have no existence in fact, or 
 even in possibility ; and if untrained peddle are still 
 found to believe in them it is because such people fail 
 to grasp certain obvious and indubitable facts, such as 
 that the same sum of money which is capable of making 
 a few individuals rich, will not, if taken from those 
 individuals and divided amongst the people, make a 
 whole nation rich, or, again, that the present rich do not 
 consume their whole income, that much of it (in the 
 year 1913 a sum of 350 millions) is turned into capital, 
 that such capital will have to be provided under any 
 system, and that if the rich do not provide it, it must 
 be provided at the expense of the whole community.* 
 
 As yet we have pointed to some only of the expenses, 
 which must be allowed for, before distribution of the 
 
 * It may interest the reader to compare the following with the 
 computation given in our text : (a) If all the money spent annually 
 by persons enjoying an income of over ;£7oo a year were divided (the 
 case, of course, is wholly impossible and imaginary) equally amongst 
 the population of the United Kingdom, it would amount to only 
 £2y per family — not a huge sum surely. We say " spent," because 
 what they save becomes for the most part capital used for industrial 
 purposes and redounds to the public good, (b) If the total joint 
 incomes, saved and spent, of all those receiving over ;^2,ooo a year 
 were equally divided amongst all classes, the addition per family 
 would not equal I'Zt a. year. And out of the common people's salaries 
 thus increased, provision should be made by government for renewal 
 and increase of capital, the rich being those that now save most of 
 what is turned into capital — (See Ireson, Table A.), (c) The total 
 income of Germany in the year 1908 is placed by Stein Bucher (See 
 Webb, op. cit. p. 630) at 1,750 millions. The population in that 
 year was 63 millions, or (allowing 4J per -ons in the average to each 
 family) 14 million families. Now deducting 300 millions for purposes 
 such as we have indicated in the case of England, we find that under 
 socialism each family would receive about £t-02. But in Germany 
 numberless artisans' families receive more than this sum. A brick- 
 layer in Berlin or Hamburg can himself earn £2 per week. Given 
 another half-earner in the family and the income will be well beyond 
 the socialist dividend, (d) The following quotation will give a rough 
 idea of what, in regard to income, socialism would mean for France : 
 "Were the people of France," writes Flint (" Socialism^" p. 179), 
 " to be grouped into households of four individuals each, and the 
 whole annual income of France equally apportioned among them, 
 each of these households, it has been calculated, would only receive 
 about three francs a day. Were the workmen to obtain all the profits 
 of the capitalists for themselves, even in those trades where there are 
 the largest capitalists, in scarcely any case would they receive four 
 shillings a week more than they do." 
 
238 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 national income can be effected. Let us now point to 
 some further headings of expense. Up to the present 
 we have made no provision for compensating those 
 capitalists whose property will, under the new regime, 
 have been taken over by the State. We have conducted 
 our discussion as if the socialist programme was to 
 confiscate by violent means all existing capital and to 
 pay not one farthing to owners. But how impossible 
 all that is, and how unjust to the socialists themselves 
 will easily be understood. It is impossible because, as 
 Kautsky himself admits, a whole army of owners would 
 instantly be up in revolution, great owners and small 
 owners, owners of industries, partners in industries, 
 shipowners, house-owners, shop-owners, and a million 
 and a half artisans also, or people earning less than 
 £160 a year, who between them own capital (their own 
 savings mostly) amounting to a thousand million pounds.* 
 The suggestion also is most unjust to the socialists whose 
 efforts at economic re-organisation, it is claimed, are 
 inspired mainly by considerations of justice and not of 
 expediency merely. Granted then for the sake of argu- 
 ment that a large number of capitalists have come by 
 their property unjustly, nevertheless, the fact remains 
 that the vast bulk of the existing capital has been justly 
 acquired and will need to be compensated. And on 
 what scale are owners to be compensated ? In strict 
 justice they could not be asked to accept a smaller sum 
 than they are now enjoying. But this would prove an 
 intolerable burden to the community. Besides, to com- 
 pensate capitalists on anything approaching such a 
 scale would put socialists in a position at variance with 
 the socialist principle of the right of all men to equal 
 treatment by the State. For some capitalists earn 
 twenty per cent, on their capital, some ten, some five. 
 Let us agree then to compensation at the low figure of 
 two per cent., and to be paid on only ten out of the 
 fifteen thousand millions of capital owned by English- 
 * Ireson, op, cit. p. 151, 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 239 
 
 men in 1905.* This means that before distribution of 
 the national profits could be considered an additional 
 sum of no less than 200 millions per annum should be 
 deducted from an already greatly shrunken national 
 income, with what effect on the salaries of the 65 million 
 skilled workers' families the reader can himself readily 
 compute. That income will certainly, allowing for this 
 new item of reduction, stand well below the level of 
 men's present receipts, and not only in the case of the 
 rich and niiddle classes and the skilled artisans, but also 
 in the case of the unskilled and casually employed. A 
 stage entailing definite loss to every class in the com- 
 munity has, therefore, now been reached, and as yet 
 we are not done with the preliminary expenses of socialist 
 administration or with those reductions in the public 
 revenue which socialism will necessarily entail, every 
 item of which must be fully provided for before the 
 division of the public estate is allowed to be made. 
 Let us rapidly review some of the other headings of 
 reduction that must be allowed for in the public 
 revenue before distribution occurs. 
 
 Under socialism an immense decline must necessarily 
 occur in the manufacture of luxuries, of all those things, 
 namely, which only the rich can afford to buy, since 
 under socialism there are to be no rich people in the 
 present sense of the word. Again, there will occur a 
 serious loss of national income due to loss of foreign 
 trade. f A socialist community, however well socialism 
 might work in the domain of home business, could not 
 compete successfully with the thousands of foreign 
 individual producers working against her for capturing 
 the foreign markets. She would, therefore, lose her 
 foreign trade and the present enormous income derived 
 from it. What that loss would mean in the bulk may 
 easily be computed from two very simple facts. One is 
 that the wages paid in connection with exports amounts 
 
 * See Ireson, ^p. cit. Table J : also Webb, 
 t See Flint, " Socialism," p. 169. 
 
240 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 at present to a sum equal to one-fifth * of the total 
 wages-bill of the nation. The second is that the total 
 value of the exports from Great Britain in the year 
 1905 amounted to 330 millions. f 
 
 An analogous though quite distinct consideration is 
 that based upon incomes received into the United 
 Kingdom from investments abroad. At present this 
 sum is included in the national income. Under the 
 socialist rigime it would not. No man would be such a 
 fool as to allow the profits of a foreign business to come 
 into a country where it would immediately find its 
 way, not into the pocket of the individual owner, but 
 into the public treasury, for distribution amongst the 
 whole people. In 1907 it was estimated that the amount 
 of annual revenue received into the United Kingdom 
 from investments abroad was £140,000,000. J In 1904- 
 1905 the amount would, of course, be much smaller, 
 since this is a source of revenue that has been increasing 
 very rapidly in recent years. But in that year it should 
 necessarily have reached a very substantial sum, and 
 it obviously forms an additional head under which 
 reduction must occur in the national income, if we are 
 to determine the proportion of the national income of 
 1904-5 that could be made available for public dis- 
 tribution, had socialism been made the working system 
 of the country in that year.§ 
 
 Again, a large margin must be allowed for under the 
 heading of defalcations, which, owing to the special 
 opportunities for, and even incentives to, dishonesty 
 that the socialist system will provide, are likely to 
 occur on a much vaster scale under socialism than 
 under our present capitalist system. The special 
 
 * See Board of Trade Returns, Blue Book, Cd. 1761. 
 
 t Webb, p. 99. 
 
 t See Final Report on the First Census of Production of the U.K. 
 (1907), P- 32. 
 
 § This argument is developed in a most interesting way by Mr. 
 Mallock in his work on Social Reform (pp. 83 and 123). His com- 
 putation, however, concerns a later year, viz. 1910. 
 
WAGES- AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 24I 
 
 incentive to dishonesty is supplied in the meagreness 
 
 of the socialist salaries compared with* what each is 
 
 certain to consider the immensity of the services which 
 
 he has personally rendered to the State ; and the 
 
 required opportunities must necessarily be many where 
 
 all the money of the country is handled by men who do 
 
 not own it, and on whom the owners cannot, as now, 
 
 keep an ever-watchful eye, there being under socialism 
 
 no private owners. Most to be feared will be a system 
 
 of large-scale fraudulency, the possibilities in regard 
 
 to which may be roughly estimated from an event 
 
 which is reported * to have occurred in very recent 
 
 years in America — and of course under the system of 
 
 capitalist management where only a small portion of 
 
 the wealth of the country is open to fraudulent handling. 
 
 Our point here is that under socialism such frauds and 
 
 defalcations must occur more frequently and with 
 
 much greater facility since, under socialism, control of 
 
 the entire wealth of the country is to be exercised not 
 
 by owners but by agents merely, with no watchful 
 
 owners to criticise their acts. The occurrence referred 
 
 to was of the following kind : About forty years ago, 
 
 at the end of an election, it was agreed that the large 
 
 speculators " might change metallic silver for gold on 
 
 the old basis of exchange at the Treasury. This meant 
 
 simply that on depositing in the Treasury a weight of 
 
 silver bought in the market for £12 they received gold 
 
 to the value of £20. This measure was so ruinous to 
 
 the State that it soon became necessary to limit the 
 
 present which the government made to a privileged few 
 
 to the sum of £10,000,000 per annum. When the 
 
 Treasury was almost exhausted, and bankruptcy 
 
 threatened, the execution of the bill was (of course) 
 
 suspended." Now this scandalous piece of piracy 
 
 might, of course, be used by socialists as part of their 
 
 indictment of the capitalist system. But to our minds 
 
 it tells far more strongly against socialism than against 
 
 * Le Bon, " Psychology of Socialism." 
 
 VOL. 11 — 16 
 
242 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 capitalism. For if these things could happen under 
 our present system where every man is moved by his 
 own interest, and for the protection of his own posses- 
 sions to keep a watchful eye upon all financial, and 
 particularly large-scale financial operations, how much 
 more easily will they occur where no man is owner of 
 capital in circulation, where the public resources are 
 all in the hands of intermediaries, where a formless and 
 indeterminate and, therefore, voiceless public, is the 
 only body with rights to defend, and where that public 
 is at the entire mercy of a few clever " operators " 
 manipulating the whole business of the country at 
 their will. 
 
 Our position, therefore, may here be once more re- 
 viewed. In reducing, in accordance with the un- 
 questionable necessities of thfe case, the national income 
 so as to determine the amount which would be really 
 available for distribution under socialism, we reached 
 a point at which we found that not only the upper and 
 middle classes, but the whole body of skilled workers 
 also, should lose by the substitution of socialism for 
 private capitalism. A further necessary reduction 
 brought us to the point at which even the unskilled 
 labourers, the incompetents and the casuals ceased to 
 be gainers, and in all probability suffered loss by the 
 introduction of the socialist system. The reasoning 
 contained in the last few paragraphs only serves to 
 emphasise and to increase the certainty of all-round 
 loss under the socialist rdgime, a loss enormous in the 
 case of the present payers of income tax, substantial 
 and most serious in the case of the class of skilled work- 
 men all over the land. 
 
 But all these considerations assume a character of 
 secondary importance only, when compared with that 
 which is now to follow, that, viz. of the necessity of 
 incentives to industrial progress, and their almost com- 
 plete absence in the socialist State. The incentives to 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 243 
 
 labour are in the industrial world what the maintenance 
 of high pressure is in an industrial machine. Any 
 slackening in one, like dimiiiution in the other, renders 
 every other advantage and perfection of the system 
 useless. Without a high degree of pressure, constantly 
 and fully maintained, the most perfectly constructed 
 engine in the world will fail to do 'its work. An in- 
 dustrial system without strong incentives to hard and 
 unremitting labour on the part of all engaged in it 
 must soon lose in power and life, and the consequent 
 losses in income will as far exceed those which we have 
 already been considering in connection with socialism 
 in the present chapter, as want of steam in a steam 
 engine exceeds in importance all minor defects occurring 
 in the action of the parts. We propose to introduce 
 this most important argument in a manner which may 
 at first sight appear unnecessarily roundabout and 
 indirect. 
 
 The considerations set forth in the present chapter 
 as to the deductions that will have to be made from 
 the national income before distribution of it can occur 
 in the socialist State are as a rule almost completely, 
 in some cases completely, ignored in socialist estimates 
 of the probable income of workmen under the socialist 
 regime. But there is one socialist writer, the ablest 
 perhaps of the whole school, who has given full weight 
 to the facts narrated in our argument, and his com- 
 ment on them is exceedingly interesting and will help 
 to introduce us to our final argument based on the 
 absence of incentives to labour in the socialist State. 
 Having enumerated several headings under which re- 
 ductions will have to be effected in the national income 
 before distribution can be begun, and the enumeration 
 is by no means adequate or exhaustive, Karl Kautsky * 
 goes on to write : " Thus we see that not much will 
 remain for the raising of the wages from the present 
 income of the capitalists, even if capital were confiscated 
 
 * " The Morrow of the Social Revolution," p. i8. 
 
244 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 at a stroke, still less if we were to compensate the 
 capitalists." How then does he propose to make up for 
 this disappointing fall under socialism in the available 
 income of the nation ? By intenser effort on the part 
 of those entrusted with the task of production. " It 
 will consequently be necessary," he writes, " in order to 
 be able to raise the wages, to raise at the same time the 
 production far above its present level. Not only the 
 maintenance of the production, but also its increase, 
 will constitute one of the most urgent problems of the 
 social revolution. The victorious proletariat must speed 
 up production as fast as possible if it is to meet the 
 enormous demands which the new rigime will be called 
 upon to satisfy." Let us examine this last and most 
 instructive device of the chief amongst modern socialist 
 thinkers for restoring to the present level the divisible 
 income of the country, which, under socialism, so many 
 causes will combine to lower. 
 
 It should be clear to any thinking man that to speed 
 up industry, in the sense of merely speeding up pro- 
 duction, would only constitute a new source of embarrass- 
 ment and loss in the socialist State. The speeding up 
 of production would of a certainty plunge the nation in 
 bankruptcy unless everything else in the industrial 
 system were speeded up in proportion, unless receipts 
 and profits are " speeded " up to the level of the in- 
 creased production, unless there is (if we may be allowed 
 to use the word in such a connection) speeding up of 
 management, and direction, and saving power, and 
 assiduous watching of old markets and creating of new 
 markets, so that commodities as they are successively 
 produced may not be left on the producer's hands, 
 unless, in a word, every man in the nation, director, 
 shop-keeper, salesman, workman, is speeded up to put 
 forth not temporarily, but permanently and systematic- 
 ally, the best that is in him for the successful accom- 
 plishment of his allotted task. Are the conditions of 
 socialist industry the conditions required for such 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 245 
 
 effort and such care ? A full answer to this question 
 would necessitate some examination of the incentives 
 that now are operative in those three departments of 
 industrial activity on which the systematic develop- 
 ment of industry admittedly depends, viz. invention, 
 direction or administration, and labour. It would be 
 easy to show that for invention the incentive of an 
 exceptionally great reward is generally required. In 
 modern times there is very little room left for sudden 
 and startling inventions such as have created great 
 reputations in the past. In modern industry progress 
 is secured by the continued appearance of small inter- 
 related inventions which though insignificant in them- 
 selves are yet mighty in their cumulative effects. More- 
 over these inventions are not the creation of a single 
 illuminating moment but depend on the laborious efforts 
 and the patient trial of many difificult and unpromising 
 years. It is only the hope of exceptional reward th'at 
 could sustain the spirit of an inventor through these 
 years of trial, and this the programme of socialism 
 essentially excludes. Again, there is the heading of 
 labour : that workman has but little incentive to 
 labour, who knows that the amount of the national 
 income, and therefore that the amount of dividend 
 which each (he himself included) is to receive, depends 
 hardly at all on his own efforts which he can control, 
 but on the combined efforts, idleness, knavery, and 
 waste, which he cannot control, of ten million others, 
 honest men and shirkers all thrown into one, who, as 
 we have seen, will under socialism produce and there- 
 fore determine the amount of the national income. 
 
 At present, however, we are compelled to confine our 
 attention to one of the three departments mentioned, 
 that, viz. of direction or administration, on which, more 
 than on any other, success in business and industry 
 depends, and which, as we shall now show, cannot but 
 be adversely affected by the elimination of private 
 ownership and the consequent elimination under 
 
246 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 socialism of the owner's rights to the profits, and of his 
 responsibihties for the losses occurring in business. 
 The creation and administration of great industries is 
 the work of prolonged, heavy, uninspiring, and often dis- 
 spiriting effort, such as is not undertaken by men except 
 with the hope of exceptional reward. Businesses, if they 
 are to be lucrative, cannot be opened without much 
 previous laborious enquiry as to the possibilities of the 
 market. A business opened without such enquiry may 
 be regarded, in nearly every case, as a failure from the 
 start. At present the watchful eyes of thousands of 
 keen business men are open for every movement of the 
 market, and capitalists are always ready to launch out 
 into business at the right moment and in the right way. 
 Any slackening in such watchfulness would mean the 
 beginning of the end of all industrial progress. Then 
 when an industry has been successfully set upon its 
 course, the thousand and one difficulties of administra- 
 tion and direction arise ; the thankless and continuous 
 work of controlling men, the hard dry work of fitting 
 prices to cost of production, or cost of production to 
 expected prices," the opening out of new markets for 
 wares produced, the long office hours, the many sleepless 
 nights, the prolonged anxiety entailed when difficulties 
 arise — these are the things, unseen by the public, on 
 which seventy -per cent, of the chances of success depend 
 in the case of most concerns, and without such watchful 
 and continued effort and pressure no industry or under- 
 taking could really succeed. We must remember also 
 that in most undertakings the margin of profit is small 
 and that it is only by the most assiduous attention to 
 detail that seventy fer cent, of our businesses can keep 
 afloat.* 
 
 Now, under socialism the conditions will not be such 
 as are likely to secure either energy or care in the ad- 
 ministration of these great concerns. A maximum of 
 energy can only be secured where either the net profits 
 
 * See Leroy-Beauljeu, " Le CoUectivisme," p. 289, 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 247 
 
 all accrue or verj' exceptional rewards are promised to 
 those individuals who have the chief Conduct of a 
 business. A maximum of care and of frugality is to be 
 expected only where the same individuals that control 
 the concern must bear all or a great part of the losses 
 that occur. Under socialism, on the other hand, the men 
 whose duty it will be to direct and conduct the various 
 commercial undertakings of the nation will neither 
 receive the profits nor be charged with the losses, and, 
 therefore, the same watchful assiduity that is normally 
 bestowed upon the direction of capitalist undertakings 
 is not to be expected under socialist management. 
 
 These facts being explained we may briefly sum up 
 our position. We saw that before the national income 
 could be made available for distribution under socialism 
 many deductions had to be made. Some of these were 
 necessary from the very nature of commerce itself ; 
 others were based on certain inherent weaknesses in 
 human nature. Their combined effect was to bring 
 down the available sum to such a low level that not 
 only the rich must be impoverished, but even the skilled 
 artisans must lose heavily by the elimination of capitalism, 
 and that even the unskilled would either gain very little 
 or lose some portion of their present meagre income. 
 There still remained the question of incentives. In the 
 past, industry has progressed by leaps and bounds 
 under the operation of one great incentive, the hope of 
 personal gain. With that incentive gone, all that 
 watchful care and effort at the thousand different centres 
 of production and administration which alone could 
 render production a source of profit to the nation will 
 have departed, and so the wheels of commerce must 
 slow down, or if they be speeded up, as Kautsky sug- 
 gests, in the single department of production, they will 
 be speeded up unto destruction. Under socialism, then, 
 we can anticipate no other future for the vast mass of 
 the nation, including even the great artisan class to 
 whom the appeals of socialists are now especially 
 
248 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 addressed, than that of misery and utter financial failure. 
 One class will certainly profit by the change, and, it 
 seems to us, only one class, namely, the class of director- 
 functionaries in whose hands the financial resources and 
 the fate of the nation will ultimately lie. These will 
 be the new exploiters of labour, bolder, more selfish, 
 and craftier than the most unscrupulous ca.pitalist of 
 olden days, and there will be no government to check 
 them in their delinquencies, because they will them- 
 selves hold the reins of government in their hands.* 
 
 A difflculty — theory that absolute loss is impossible. 
 
 We do not care to bring this chapter to a close without 
 some reference, however brief, to a certain economic 
 theory which has gained wide recognition of late amongst 
 socialists of a particular school, and by means of which 
 an attempt has been made to undermine the position of 
 anti-socialist writers in so far as they touch on economic 
 theory. The chief economic argument of anti-socialist 
 writers, and the argument that has been given most 
 prominence in this work, is an argument based on the 
 supposition of losses occurring under socialist adminis- 
 
 * The socialists have, of course, their incentives, but from what 
 we have said it should be evident that these incentives are not likely 
 to operate either energetically or continuously on any of the three 
 classes of men considered in our text. They speak, for instance, of 
 the " joy of creative work." Now attached to invention in even a 
 minor degree such joy is possible, but there is no joy in administrative 
 work or labour such as we have described. Then there is the " glory 
 and the distinction " of great achievements. We answer there is 
 very little glory either about making ends meet, or about the con- 
 tinued hard labour of the poor. Then finally there is " sympathy 
 with our fellow men," a virtue which does, indeed, often induce men 
 who have no dependence on others to help them in various ways, 
 but which is not likely to be 6perative when a man knows that his 
 own work in order to be effective depends on the -work of others, and 
 particularly when so many of those others are obviously slackers and 
 wastrels. The socialist incentives are incentives to poets and dreamers 
 only, not to an unimaginative business world. If socialism is to 
 induce men to put forth the best that is in them there must be differen- 
 tiation in remuneration, and this will lead to the establishment once 
 more of economic inequality and of a leisured class, and in time tg 
 t}ie return of the old regime, 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 249 
 
 tration, due chiefly to the absence of effective incentives 
 to labour. Now on the socialist side it has recently 
 been maintained that these supposed losses are quite 
 imaginary and even impossible, and that the capitalist 
 appeal to them is due to a confusion of thought as to 
 the relation between capitalistic and socialist con- 
 ditions. Financial losses, it is explained, are possible 
 under capitalistic conditions of ownership, but they are 
 impossible in a system of public or socialist ownership 
 and administration, and, therefore, the capitalist's 
 argument, which is based on the possibility of such 
 losses occurring, is without foundation. 
 
 In the development of this argument it is pointed 
 out that even under capitalism there is no such thing 
 as absolute loss, or absolute destruction of wealth, that 
 losses may occur to certain individuals but that other 
 individuals must in every case gain what the former 
 lose. Thus if a man wastes his substance drinking 
 champagne, he personally loses what he spends in 
 drinking, but the champagne manufacturer gains to a 
 corresponding extent. There is no absolute loss in 
 the case. Now under socialism it is pointed out, all 
 capital, i.e. the capital of each country, will belong to 
 a single owner, the State, and, therefore, all the depart- 
 ments of business will belong to the same owner, and 
 since loss * in one department is always compensated 
 for by gain in another, it follows, the socialists tell us, 
 that under socialism, no loss of any kind can ultimately 
 be sustained by the State or the community. It would 
 seem, therefore, that a great part of our argument, 
 which is based on the supposition of losses occurring, 
 is without foundation. 
 
 This argument, it will be readily admitted, is of the 
 highest importance in connection with the economics 
 of socialism and, therefore, it will be necessary to say 
 something in reply to it. Let us for clearness' sake 
 consider a very simple concrete case of purchase, A 
 
 * i.e. loss through business failures, 
 
250 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 particular individual buys machinery from another 
 individual. He also buys the raw materials of a building 
 — bricks, mortar, timber, etc., and for the whole he 
 pays a sum of £2,000. After a time the venture fails. 
 Production ceases ; employees are dismissed ; the 
 machines lie idle, rust, and become useless ; the buildings 
 fall into disrepair. What now is the amount of wealth 
 available after this event in comparison with what 
 preceded, and what, therefore, is the loss that has been 
 sustained ? Before the event there existed two thousand 
 pounds and also valuable buildings or the materials 
 for them, and valuable machinery. Now after the 
 event there is in existence only the sum of two thousand 
 pounds which has been paid to the original seller. The 
 world, in other words, is poorer by a sum equal not 
 merely to the plant which has been lost but to the profit 
 that might have been made out of it had the under- 
 taking been successful. The materials still remain of 
 course ; but they are useless and valueless except as 
 scrap. Their value is like that of a dead man com- 
 pared to a living. A living productive business has 
 been lost, not merely to one individual or group of in- 
 dividuals, but to the whole world. It has been lost 
 wholly and absolutely. 
 
 What, then, is the essential and central fallacy of this 
 specious objection ? The fallacy is this— it represents 
 the wealth of the nation as consisting wholly in the 
 money that passes between one set of hands and another 
 when purchases are effected. That money, no doubt, is 
 saved whether failure subsequently occurs or does not ; 
 but what a small fraction such money represents of 
 the total wealth possessed in any country it is hardly 
 necessary to point out. If the only capital which 
 England possessed was the money which changes hands 
 in purchase, England would be a very poor country 
 indeed. The total wealth of the United Kingdom stands 
 at about thirteen thousand millions.* At the end of 
 
 * Webb, op. cit. p. 81, 
 
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 251 
 
 1907 the stock of money in the United Kingdom, made 
 up of gold, silver, and uncovered paper, Amounted to 
 something short of i66| millions.* In what then does 
 the wealth of England consist ? It consists, of course, 
 in all the things of value possessed by the nation. But 
 for the most part it consists in things wholly distinct 
 from money, in such things as warehouses, canals, 
 railwaj's, mines, factories, the land. These are the 
 living sources of profit from which England's wealth is 
 in the main derived. And where a failure occurs most 
 of these things can be lost absolutely to the nation. 
 
 It may be said, of course, that the socialist State 
 would not permit the total disappearance even of a 
 failing or unprofitable industry, that the State would 
 draw money from other departments in order to keep 
 each unprofitable department going. Our reply is, that 
 it is precisely in that fact that is to be found the most 
 terrible and unavoidable danger to commerce and 
 industry under socialist control. Under capitalism if 
 an industry ceases to be profitable it perforce disap- 
 pears, the only loser in the case being the capitalist who 
 owned the particular industrial concern. Under social- 
 ism good money will be thrown after bad, more and 
 more money will be poured into unprofitable under- 
 takings, sometimes in order to keep up employment, 
 sometimes to hide the delinquencies or inefficiency of 
 offtcials. Should such bolstering up of broken businesses 
 be attempted generally or on a large scale the only 
 result possible is that of speedy and irretrievable bank- 
 ruptcy. In a perfect system of reservoirs where each 
 department communicates with every other you do 
 not, if everything is in perfect order, lower the level of 
 the water in the system by pouring water from one 
 reservoir into another. But if water is poured from 
 one reservoir into another in order to make up for 
 leakage in that other, sooner or later the whole system 
 will be depleted. It will be the same, with the single 
 
 * Webb, op. cit. p. /ji6, 
 
252 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 unified system of industry in which all present businesses 
 are to be amalgamated in the socialist era. To support 
 one failing department at the expense of the rest will 
 mean the gradual depletion of the whole system. Thus 
 the . present difficulty only serves to strengthen our 
 case against socialist finance. Under socialism an all- 
 round uniform level of income may, indeed, be attained. 
 But it will be a level of all-round poverty not of riches. 
 To divide up wealth you must first make it, and under 
 socialism the conditions are not such as to favour its 
 plentiful production. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 REMAINING DEFECTS— SUMMARY OF CASE 
 AGAINST SOCIALISM 
 
 In Chapters V and VI we considered the Marxian argu- 
 ments against private capitalism. Chapter VII, although 
 still occupied with the consideration of Marx's argu- 
 ments, explained a very grave positive defect in socialism, 
 viz. that under socialism the incomes of all classes in 
 the community, even the artisan class, would necessarily 
 undergo considerable shrinkage, due chiefly to the 
 disappearance of the capitalist incentives to hard and 
 unremitting effort not only on the part of workmen, 
 but also, and more particularly, on the part of the 
 socialist directors of labour. In the present chapter, 
 before attempting to draw our general conclusion in 
 regard to the socialist position, we purpose continuing 
 the positive refutation of socialism which we began in 
 the preceding chapter, by showing that not only will 
 socialism, as has already appeared, involve heavy 
 financial loss to the whole community, but also that 
 socialism is inferior to capitalism as a means for securing 
 that end which it is the chief aim of socialism, as, in- 
 deed, of every other economic system, to promote, 
 viz. the satisfaction and contentment of society. 
 
 In order to make our position on this point clear it 
 is necessary to preface our argument with a -distinction, 
 the meaning of which will easily be understood by all. 
 Economically considered, the public may be viewed 
 under two aspects. All men are either sellers or buyers 
 — either producers or consumers, using these words in 
 a broad sense. In the first place all men are supposed 
 to follow some avocation in life through which humanity 
 is benefited in some way — some are doctors, some lawyers, 
 
 253 
 
254 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 some shop-keepers, some labourers, some farmers, some 
 statesmen. All these confer utilities on others, and in 
 that broad sense we may speak of them as sellers 
 or producers. Again, the public are buyers or con- 
 sumers in as much as they receive the benefits provided 
 by the others, medical attention from doctors, legal 
 advice from lawyers, boots and shoes and other neces- 
 saries from manufacturers. This broad distinction will 
 be found to cover roughly the whole field of the economic 
 life of any country, and it will help us to show on broad 
 lines, but yet with some degree of completeness, how 
 little calculated socialism is, in comparison with our 
 present system, to provide the conditions necessary for 
 human happiness, for social contentment, which, as we 
 have already said, it is the chief and admitted purpose 
 of socialism to promote. 
 
 I. The public as workers, sellers, or producers. 
 
 We shall first consider the public as workers or pro- 
 ducers, i.e. in their capacity as doctors, lawyers, shop- 
 keepers, manufacturers, labourers. Speaking generally, 
 we may truly say that under the capitalist system each 
 man makes free choice of his avocation in life, of his 
 position, therefore, in the world as worker or producer. 
 The range of pursuits open to many men is, of course, 
 limited in a number of ways. Not all men have money 
 enough to enter a profession, for instance ; and of pro- 
 fessional men only the best competitors can reach the 
 highest places. But all men exercise some choice in 
 determining the line of life which they will follow, 
 and the area of free choice is gradually widening more 
 and more as better educational facilities are provided 
 for the masses. 
 
 Now, socialist writers, whilst they bestow very little 
 attention on this very real and unquestionable ad- 
 vantage of the capitalist system, viz. that men are left 
 free to direct their own lives as they think best, make 
 frequent allusion to the limitations which, in practice, 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 255 
 
 fortune and the mere accident of birth place on the 
 theoretical freedom of individuals under t^e capitalist 
 system. The poor man's son, they tell us, is, in 
 practically all cases, forced to become a mechanic or 
 labourer ; the rich man's son goes to a university and 
 becomes a doctor, an engineer, or a statesman, and 
 on this point they build their general contention that 
 capitalism is opposed to freedom and initiative, especially 
 among the poorer classes. 
 
 Now we have already admitted that under capitalism 
 a man's power to control his own career is subject to 
 many and grave limitations, and all we have claimed is 
 that under our present system the individual is largely 
 free in the choice of a line of life. But what is the 
 system by which socialists purpose to replace the con- 
 ditions of the old regime P Under socialism it is the 
 government which will decide whether a man shall 
 become a shop-keeper, farmer, fisherman, or stoker, 
 a traveller in Paris, Brussels, or Petrograd, or a clerk 
 in some grimy office in London. In other words, 
 whereas under our present system it is the right of 
 every man to choose his own line of business or pro- 
 fession, and so to attempt to rise above the accidents 
 of birth and fortune and to carve out a career for him- 
 self, under the socialist system a man will have no 
 right to choose his own career ; on the contrary, he 
 will be compelled to accept any position that is allotted 
 to him by the government or by a few public func- 
 tionaries representing the government, who will, in 
 the new era, have the right arbitrarily to dispose of 
 the lives and services of every man in the land without 
 thought of his wishes, prepossessions, or even of his 
 capacities.* Socialists may differ very widely about 
 
 * The few positions that might be allotted by examination are 
 not worth considering. It is to be remembered that under socialism 
 all will have equal opportunities for education. Under theSe cir- 
 cumstances any attempt to determine by examination who will be 
 the ministers, who the farmers, who the shopkeepers, and who the 
 navvies and sailors would be absurd. 
 
256 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 various parts of the socialist programme. But on this 
 item there is no room for difference. Under socialism 
 the State is to be the universal employer. Every 
 position in the land will be under the immediate control 
 of the State, and, therefore, it is the State that will 
 in the first place appoint men to their various positions, 
 and that in the second place will be responsible for every 
 inequality in the lot of individuals. 
 
 A further conclusion also appears. Under capitalism 
 men are to a great extent content to put up with the 
 existing inequalities, content with their own lot, because 
 each man has to a large extent the ordering of his own 
 life, and is prepared to attribute much of the hardships 
 of his life to himself or to fortune ; but under socialism 
 men will not be content with their lot ; on the contrary, 
 every inequality of position, of labour, of happiness 
 will be pharged up to the government ; and the public 
 resentment will be all the more bitter because whatever 
 inequalities occur under socialism occur under a system 
 which is built on a theory of the equality of all men, a 
 system which promises equality to all, and because in 
 view of these promises men will, under socialism, have 
 completely given up their right of freely regulating their 
 own lives, and their right of the fair use of their oppor- 
 tunities to enrich themselves without injury to other 
 persons. We should add also that this resulting dis- 
 content, resentment and disaffection, are bound to 
 act most unfavourably on industry, since it will be 
 shared by practically the whole population, and in 
 particular by the entire body of workmen, on the whole- 
 hearted exercise of whose energies the successful con- 
 duct of industry so much depends.* 
 
 • Socialists attempt to answer the above argument in a great 
 variety of ways. They maintain, for instance, that under sociaUsm 
 present inequalities will disappear ; (a) because inequalities of income 
 will be no more ; (fc) because under socialism the miner or, scavenger 
 will be held in equal honour with the engineer or statesman ; {c) 
 because whatever hardships attach to certain kinds of work will be 
 counteracted by shortening the hours of work in these departments. 
 To these arguments we reply : (a) even if inequalities of income 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 257 
 
 II. The public as buyers or consumers. 
 
 Under the capitalist system the principle governing 
 all production is that of the public need. Things are 
 produced because they are required and as they are 
 required.* Let any new requirement arise and numbers 
 of competing capitalists are ready with their money 
 to produce the required article, at the cheapest price, 
 and in the form most acceptable to the public. Let it 
 appear that any corner or crevice of human desire, no 
 matter how trivial or exacting such desire may be, is 
 still unsatisfied, and men will be found to risk a great 
 part of their possessions in order to provide the needed 
 commodity or pleasure. Thus, under capitalism, pro- 
 duction is made to keep pace with demand, following it 
 up persistently in every direction, and, often, by its 
 insistence and the attractiveness of the wares produced, 
 even creating fresh demands, and satisfying them as 
 they arise. And when the required articles have been 
 produced, they are then circulated with the utmost 
 expedition and set down at the very doors of buyers, 
 each producer being anxious to secure the greatest 
 number of buyers through causing the minimum degree 
 of trouble and expense to the public. Thus the con- 
 venience of the public becomes the norm and principle 
 of production, circulation, and supply generally. The 
 consumer is the master, the producer is the servant ; 
 and, since the consumers are the " many," and, since 
 by the " producer " here we mean chiefly the capitalist 
 
 were no more, inequalities of position will certainly remain. The 
 work of the scavenger must be done as well as the work of the lawyer ; 
 (6) the hard lot attaching to the lower positions is not dependent on 
 the dishonour in which they are held but on their own intrinsic quality. 
 Most men would consider that there is only one way to compensate 
 for the difficulty and disagreeableness of certain kinds of work, viz. 
 by giving an exceptional reward in money. But such exceptional 
 rewards are excluded by the essential principles of socialism ; (c) it is 
 the people who occupy the most favourable places who will be in the 
 best position for securing the shortest hours. Who, for instance, is 
 to make the fanner, the traveller, the statesman, or the medical 
 doctor adhere to any prescribed number of hours ? 
 
 * This holds true even though the object ultimately aimed at is 
 the profit of the producer. 
 
 VOL. II — 17 
 
258 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 (for the wage-earner has nothing to do with determining 
 what is to be produced — ^he will produce anything he 
 is paid for producing and runs no risk in regard to it) 
 it follows that under capitalism " the many " are the 
 masters of production and supply, and that "the few" 
 are the servants ministering to the wants of " the many." 
 The capitalist system is thus pre-eminently adapted for 
 the securing of the public good — the good of the many. 
 No doubt, monopolies often succeed under capitalism 
 in capturing a particular department of trade, and then 
 the monopolist becomes the master, playing on the 
 peoples' needs, and demanding what price he likes from 
 buyers. But monopolies can be restrained and even 
 suppressed altogether if the people wish. They are 
 tolerated only in so far as they are a benefit on the 
 whole, arid as long as they do not try the public too 
 hardly. Monopolies are no necessary part of capitalism 
 and, therefore, capitalism should not be judged by the 
 defects of monopolist trade. There is only one inherent 
 and unavoidable principle in the capitalist system, that, 
 viz. of free competition, and under the system of free 
 competition, as we have seen, commerce is ruled by 
 and directed, in effect, to the satisfying of the public 
 interest and requirements. 
 
 What now is the socialist substitute for the system 
 of production and distribution which capitalism has 
 maintained and so successfully developed during the 
 last two hundred years ? It is certain that under 
 socialism the public requirements will not be the sole 
 or the chief principle governing production and dis- 
 tribution. The socialist State is of its nature monopolist. 
 Under socialism there will be but one producer, supplier, 
 and distributor, viz. the State. Socialism may take a 
 highly centralised form or it may be of a federal type, 
 i.e. it may concentrate all production and distribution 
 in one set of hands, or it may make each district re- 
 sponsible for meeting the requirements of the inhabitants 
 of that district. But whatever the system of manage- 
 
, REMAINING DEFECTS 259 
 
 ment adopted it is certain that under socialism there 
 will be but one ultimate owner, the State, aad, therefore, 
 competition will cease with the disappearance of private 
 capitalism. Under socialism, then, there will be no 
 necessity to bring down prices to the lowest level con- 
 sonant with profit, to produce the most finished article 
 at the lowest price, to deliver it with the minimum of 
 trouble to the buyer, i.e. the public, in order to secure 
 the public favour. The public custom or favour need 
 not be striven for in a system where there is only one 
 producer and one seller.* 
 
 Under socialism, therefore, the public wants will not 
 be met in the same complete or progressive way as 
 under the system of private capitahsm.f 
 
 * For another reason also the convenience of the pubhc will not 
 be met under the socialist as under our present system, viz. that 
 under socialism the best men will not be secured for those higher 
 positions through which the gravest public interests are provided for 
 and regulated. Why should any man undertake to face all the 
 trouble, the study, the patient self-denial that are required to fit him 
 for such positions if at the end he can only look forward to an income 
 no greater or very little greater than that of the least efficient member 
 of the community. 
 
 t A difficulty suggested by the argument in out text is the follow- 
 ing : since the public under socialism will be the masters, may they 
 not dismiss any official whose work is not up to the required standard ? 
 In this way may not production be brought up to the fullest require- 
 ments of the public ? 
 
 We answer : First, the public at large will, under socialism, have 
 no more control over the officials engaged in production than they 
 now have over the battleships of the nation. Yet the public are now 
 the owners of those battleships, just as under socialism they will be 
 owners of the sources of production. Secondly, how are the public 
 to dismiss those officials whose work is not up to standard ? The 
 public by itself is not in a position to know what is up to standard 
 and what is not. It is the producers, the suppliers, that set the 
 standard. The high standard of comfort that obtains to-day in 
 travelling accommodation or the lighting of houses is due not to the 
 public but to producers and distributors in competition with one 
 another. Without such competition the public would not know of 
 most of the existing comforts. Under socialism, therefore, the 
 officials in charge of production can keep the standard of comfort 
 as low as they like, and the public will not be in a position to check 
 them. As long, of course, as only one or two departments of business 
 are nationalised, a good standard may be reached as in the case of 
 the Prussian railways ; but if every kind of business were nationalised 
 the standard attained in each would not be high. 
 
26o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The Arguments against Socialism Resumed 
 
 Having considered the arguments of the socialists, 
 and having also in our consideration of these arguments 
 brought out certain defects of socialism in the preceding 
 and present chapter, we are now in a position to under- 
 take a brief statement of our chief reasons for rejecting 
 the socialist theory. 
 
 I. THE financial IMPOSSIBILITY OF SOCIALISM 
 
 If the system of private capitalism is to be destroyed, 
 then all justice requires that the existing capitalists 
 should be compensated fully for the loss of their pro- 
 perty. Now, making the fullest allowances for past 
 injustices on the part of capitalists, it is certain that 
 the justly acquired and justly owned capital of the 
 United Kingdom cannot amount. to less at the present 
 day than the enormous sum of eight or nine thousand 
 millions * of pounds ; and, therefore, to the extent of 
 this enormous sum capitalists must be compensated 
 before the existing capital can be nationalised. How is 
 this to be done ? It can be done in either of two ways 
 only : capitalists can be paid off in coin or they can 
 be paid in scrip — the latter entitling them to a share in 
 the national profits equivalent, or nearly so, to what 
 they have lost through the nationalisation of their 
 capital. But the first method is impossible, since the 
 total amount of coin, gold, silver, and copper, in the 
 United Kingdom does not amount to more than about 
 £130,000,000.1 The second method would leave the 
 existing capitalists still private capitalists and private 
 capitalists in the sense most repugnant to socialist 
 feeling, viz. idle capitalists Or men in receipt of unearned 
 income, and it is against this class in particular that the 
 
 * i.e. at least 70% of the whole. The capital owned by the State 
 amounts only to about 450 millions (Ireson, Table H), private capital 
 to about eleven thousand millions. 
 
 t In 1909 it was ^^127,000,000. See Webb, op. cit. p. 418. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 261 
 
 socialists direct their sincerest abuse. In one way only, 
 then, is it possible to get rid of the system of private 
 capitalism, viz. by utterly disregarding all principles of 
 justice, and violently seizing on all private capital, 
 making no compensation whatever to owners, not even 
 to those unfortunate artisans who out of their hard 
 earnings have between them saved money to the amount 
 of a thousand million pounds,* with the interest from 
 which they now supplement their only too scanty 
 incomes. 
 
 II. SOCIALISM OPPOSED TO HUMAN WELFARE 
 
 In an earlier chapter of this work it was pointed out 
 that the system of communism or of the common owner- 
 ship of all -property is opposed to human welfare — rthat 
 it is irreconcilable with the good either of the individual, 
 or of the family, or of the race at large. 
 
 Now, the reader will probably have noticed that in 
 our reasoning about communism the chief examples by 
 which we attempted to .demonstrate the mischievous 
 effects of the communist system related not to ordinary 
 property but to the sources of wealth, to capital, to 
 those kinds of property the nationalisation of which is 
 the special feature of the socialist as opposed to the 
 communist programme. And the reason why in 
 treating of communism we could not refrain from intro- 
 ducing examples that concern the sources of wealth 
 in particular will easily be understood. We wished to 
 present the communist theory to our readers in a form 
 that was possible and conceivable, and not intrinsically 
 absurd. Now, the proposal to nationalise all ordinary 
 property such as horses, pictures, tables and chairs, 
 
 * Contemporary Review, August, 1907. It is chiefly because social- 
 ism without confiscation is financially impossible that the more 
 thorough-going socialists, e.g., Belfort Bax (" Ethics of Socialism," 
 p. 76) will have no truck with compensation. These are the only 
 logical socialists. As regards the question of the gradual socialisation 
 of capital see Appendices at end of volume. 
 
262 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 books, carpets, etc., is manifestly preposterous and 
 absurd. By no possible stretch of our imaginations 
 can we think of all the citizens of the State exercising 
 ownership over these things either simultaneously or 
 successively. Of its nature the use and employment of 
 these things must be confined to one or a few. But it is 
 easy to imagine the sources of wealth being nationalised. 
 For nationalisation in the case of the sources means not 
 that the land, the mines, the machinery are administered 
 by all, but that the fruits of them are sold and the pro- 
 ceeds divided equally among all, and in that concep- 
 tion there is nothing intrinsically impossible. It was 
 necessary, therefore, if communism was to be repre- 
 sented as a serious theory and not to stand as self- 
 condemned from the beginning, to give prominence to 
 that portion of the communist programme which relates 
 to the nationalisation of the sources of wealth, such as 
 the land, warehouses and machinery — a consideration 
 which seems also to have weighed with Aristotle who in 
 his famous criticism of the communist theory lays stress 
 on that portion of it in which it is really identical with 
 modern socialism, viz. its proposal to nationalise the 
 land, the rest being disregarded by him as obviously 
 impossible and not seriously intended by his opponents. 
 From all this it will be evident that the case which 
 has already been made out against the communist 
 theory holds also almost in its entirety against socialism. 
 The arguments already given were based on the evils 
 attending the nationalisation of the sources of produc- 
 tion, just as well as on the evils attending the national- 
 isation of ordinary property. And, therefore, there is 
 hardly one of those arguments that went to make up 
 our case against communism that does not also serve to 
 show how wide and insuperable is the opposition between 
 the socialist proposals also and the welfare of the 
 individual, the family, and the race. It is necessary, 
 however, in giving our final judgment on socialism, to 
 recapitulate at least the chief of those arguments, and 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 263 
 
 formally and expressly to show their bearing on the 
 theory of socialism. ♦ 
 
 Now in order to understand the true effect of adopting 
 the socialist programme it is necessary to remember 
 that socialism is not a proposal to introduce into our 
 present economic system some new and improving 
 feature which would, whilst leaving that system sub- 
 stantially intact, so alter it as to eliminate most, or all 
 of its defects. Socialism is a proposal to abolish the 
 whole system of private ownership in capital, our whole 
 present economic structure. Let us see what this 
 really means. Private OAvnership in capital is now 
 thousands of years in possession. A vast and complex 
 edifice of human rights has been reared upon this 
 foundation. To abolish private ownership in capital, as 
 socialism proposes, would be to bring the whole existent 
 edifice of human rights to the ground, and to per- 
 petrate the gravest injustice, not only against present 
 owners of capital, but against innumerable other persons 
 also. 
 
 Moreover, the principle of private ownership in capital 
 is a principle that has worked out well for the human 
 race. The structure raised on it is sound and good in 
 the main; Our proof is that under this system the 
 world has made enormous progress, not in one, but in 
 every department of human activity, and its progress 
 has been phenomeiial in that very sphere to which the 
 socialist proposals essentially relate, viz. the economic 
 sphere. But a principle that was naturally and in- 
 trinsically vicious would not allow of progress, per- 
 manent and phenomenal progress, in that particular 
 sphere. It would sooner or later bring forth the natural 
 and proper fruit of all evil and corrupt principles — ^not 
 economic disease merely, but economic destruction. 
 
 Evils have grown up in connection with our present 
 system. They will appear under every system, whether 
 devised by human reason or prescribed by nature, for 
 evil is irremovable from human life. But there is no 
 
264 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 evil element in our present economic system for which a 
 remedy cannot be discovered by human reason, a remedy 
 which is consonant with the central and essential 
 principles of our present system. If a large number 
 of men happen to be poor, their poverty can by govern- 
 mental intervention be removed — if necessary, at the 
 expense of the rich. If they dwell in unsanitary houses 
 government can build them houses. The evils incident 
 to the system of private capitalism are removable evils. 
 They all concern the exercise of what is only a secondary 
 though most important function of any economic system, 
 viz. the distribution of wealth. The distribution of 
 wealth under private capitalism is far from perfect. 
 What wrongs there are, however, can easily be remedied. 
 They are fast being remedied even now. But the 
 primary and essential function of commerce, i.e. the 
 production of wealth, has been not only successfully but 
 magnificently performed under the operation of private 
 capitalism. The wealth of the world is growing at a 
 phenomenal speed. And all classes are sharing in this 
 growing wealth. Some, indeed, are getting much more 
 than they should, which only means that there are dis- 
 proportions to be removed, adjustments to be made. 
 But to abolish the whole system for the sake of the 
 removable evils attendant on it would be like setting 
 fire to the harvest because some persons get more than 
 others, or poisoning the water supply of a town because 
 some houses are fed with larger pipes than others. The 
 theory that private capitalism ought to be abolished in 
 its entirety because workmen do not get all that they 
 have a right to out of the proceeds is a stupid and 
 illogical theory, and unworthy of reasoning beings. 
 Under our present system there is no defect that 
 cannot ultimately be removed. 
 
 And this conclusion in regard to the abolition of private 
 capitalism is strengthened and confirmed when we come 
 to examine the system by which in the socialist theory 
 private capitalism is to be replaced. The abolition of 
 
REMAINING DEpfeCTS 265 
 
 private ownership in capital might be regarded as not 
 antecedently unworthy of our consideration ff what was 
 proposed in place of it was a system offending against 
 no law of justice, a system that widened enormously 
 the area of human liberty, that provided conditions for 
 economic development far better than those of private 
 capitalism, that guaranteed to the Vast majority of the 
 people, if not to all, an immense increase in their incomes 
 and the comforts of life. But the .promise of socialism 
 falls very far short of this, and its actual results will be 
 the very opposite of this. Socialism,, as we shall presently 
 show, violates the most sacred rights of the individual, 
 suppresses in him all initiative, all sense of freedom, 
 makes of him an automaton, controlled and directed in 
 everything by others, and in addition, deprives him of 
 the just reward of his labour ; socialism violates also 
 the most sacred rights of the family as regards property, 
 and so controls the family in its mOst inner and sacred 
 relations as to threaten the existence of the family 
 itself ; finally, socialism, instead of promoting the general 
 economic welfare, will induce a condition of all-round 
 j)0verty, bringing the incomes of the vast majority of 
 the people, including even the entire body of workmen, 
 skilled and unskilled, particularly the former, far below 
 their present level. 
 
 Socialism and the individual interest. 
 
 Let us first take the case of the individual interest 
 and examine just one or two of the chief ways in which 
 that interest is affected by socialism. The individual 
 is provided by nature with a capacity for production, a 
 .capacity to turn his money into machinery, to set up 
 businesses, to conduct them successfully, to turn his 
 ^own possessions, be they great or small, into real and 
 .abiding sources of profit. This faculty is a function of 
 reason only. The animal cannot cultivate the soil, 
 plant trees, reap a harvest, create a business. It can 
 
266 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 only keep or consume what it gets. To turn what one 
 possesses into a source of production or profit is the 
 exclusive prerogative of man. The socialist disallows 
 and nullifies that prerogative. " You may produce," 
 he says, " but only in the interest of, and in the way 
 directed by, the State. The money you have you may 
 keep or spend just as you like. But you must not set 
 up a business with it. You must not create wealth 
 with it. This creative faculty of yours is not any 
 longer under your control. You must only use it if 
 called upon by the State to do so, and then you must 
 use it in the interest of the State alone, not in your own 
 interest. Unless called upon by the State to control and 
 direct a portion of the national property, you may draw 
 a line through all your creative capacities, no matter 
 how great and keen and valuable they are, and no 
 matter how enthusiastic you may be to exercise them. 
 Under capitalism some men have capacities which 
 they cannot exercise from want of opportunity. We, 
 socialists, disallow their exercise whether opportunity 
 offers or not. The material sources of production, the 
 quarries, the coal-mines, the oil-wells we shall most 
 jealously guard and preserve in being. But nature's 
 chiefest source of wealth, the energies and faculties of 
 man, we shall seal up and render useless for ever, except, 
 as was said before, in the case of the few on whom under 
 socialism will devolve the special charge of productive 
 and administrative work." This is the essential and 
 central article in the programme of the socialist. Social- 
 ism lays on the will and energies of man fetters more 
 restrictive and galling than those of the hardest prisons. 
 But then there is the injustice to the individual of 
 the whole proceeding. The old philosopher maintained 
 that private property was robbery. But socialism is 
 robbery — robbery of the most flagrant kind. Suppose 
 that under our present system a man had agricultural 
 land and that a neighbour prevented him from using 
 it as such, i.e. from cultivating it and appropriating 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 267 
 
 the fruits, would that not be robbery ? What good to 
 an owner is a source of wealth if it cannot*be used to 
 produce wealth ? The value of a source of production 
 is measured in great part by the fruits which it produces, 
 and to forbid the production of these fruits is to deprive 
 a man to the extent of these fruits of what is rightly 
 his. Now the natural energies of the individual . are 
 liis own. Also the money which he receives under 
 socialism is his own. To prevent him from turning 
 those energies and that money into machinery, and using 
 them as a source of profit is to perpetrate an injustice 
 against him, to rob him to, the extent of the fruits of 
 his own property. Of course, it is not robbery in the 
 technical sense of the word, for the reason that the 
 fruits of which the individual is deprived are not appro- 
 priated by others. But the difference is not to the 
 credit or advantage of socialism. In the case of ordinary 
 robbery that of which one person is deprived is possessed 
 and enjoyed by another. But under socialism the 
 fruits of property are not only denied to their owner 
 but nobody else is given the advantage of possessing 
 them — not even the community at large. Under social- 
 ism they are not produced at all ; the production of 
 them is forbidden by public law. It is almost the same 
 difference as that between taking away a quantity of 
 hay and burning it to the ground, or between robbing 
 a garden and poisoning the ground so that the fruit 
 cannot be produced. 
 
 Of course, as usual, it is the deserving workman who 
 is hardest hit by the socialist programme and its pro- 
 hibitions. Out of his small income the workman often 
 saves a little and turns that little into productive capital. 
 These savings are a source of special profit, and much of 
 the joy of his life arises from the consciousness of that 
 possession. It is his own. The fruits come into him at 
 regular periods. No power in the State can deprive 
 him of his right to them. His property also grows with 
 time. It can be made to grow to any dimensions with 
 
268 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 care and energy. It renders the possessor independent 
 to a certain degree of the rest of the world. Socialism, 
 by depriving the workman of the right to turn his money 
 into a source of wealth, robs him to the extent of that 
 wealth and condemns him to perpetual and complete 
 dependence on others. " The socialists," says Leo XIII, 
 "... strike, at the interest of every wage-earner, for 
 they deprive him of the liberty of disposing of his wages, 
 and thus of all hope and possibility of increasing his 
 stock and of bettering his condition in life." * 
 
 Socialism and the family interest. 
 
 All this refers to the individual interest. But sociahsm 
 strikes also at the happiness and welfare of the family. 
 We may be allowed here to quote the following passage 
 from an earlier chapter in which it was shown that 
 ■property is necessary for the family welfare : " The man 
 who summons children into the world assumes responsi- 
 bility for feeding and educating those children. And 
 because he has summoned them into life, they have a 
 right to look to him for all that is required for their 
 development and perfection. . . . This responsibility 
 which nature imposes upon the father gives him a right 
 as well as imposes a duty of gathering together a store 
 of wealth and gives him a right of property in that 
 wealth. It is the chief condition of the future security 
 and well-being of his children." Now, " the children 
 whom he summons into the world wiU themselves, in 
 the natural course of events, found families, and the 
 father has a right to put them in a secure position for 
 beginning their married life. In this matter the needs 
 of children are quite indefinite and indeed unlimited, 
 and therefore a man may go on storing wealth to the 
 end of his life and to any amount that he desires." 
 
 * The obvious objections that under socialism the workman will 
 be rich and consequently will feel no need to turn his money into a 
 source of wealth is answered in the preceding chapter. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 269 
 
 From the foregoing argument it will be clear that the 
 right of propertj^ in so far as it is based oif the family 
 welfare, is in its complete form ultimately based on the 
 permanence of the family — its permanence and con- 
 tinuation from one generation to another. The right 
 which the family welfare bestows is a right of storing 
 up wealth and of passing it on from children to grand- 
 children, and, if possible, without diminution or destruc- 
 tion, just as the faniily life suffers neither diminution 
 nor destruction as one generation succeeds another. 
 But property has the attribute of permanence only in 
 the form of capital or productive wealth. It is only by 
 turning wealth into productive capital that it becomes 
 possible to use it and at the same time neither to diminish 
 nor to destroy it, the fruits which capital produces being 
 used or consumed, whilst the capital itself from which 
 those fruits derive remains whole and intact. A right 
 of property, then, that would exclude its being turned 
 into productive capital would not only be partial and 
 incomplete, but would also fail to secure the true welfare 
 of the family in its capacity ag a permanent and con- 
 tinuous social unit. Such a limited right of property 
 would satisfy neither the responsibility nor the rights 
 of the head of the family in regard to his children. 
 
 But a much graver injury to the family life than the 
 economic loss it will sustain through the suppression 
 of all private capital has also to be considered, 
 viz. the right which, indirectly, socialism gives the 
 State of control over the family in its innermost and 
 most sacred relations. This argument has already 
 been explained in our consideration of the com- 
 munist system. But it holds true also of socialism ; 
 and its further presentation and development here 
 win serve to emphasise its great importance. 
 Under the present system the father of the family 
 undertakes full responsibility for the support of his 
 children. If the family becomes too large for his re- 
 
270 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 sources he either seeks some more lucrative employ- 
 ment or tries to supplement his income in other ways, 
 e.g. by means of a small business. But, whatever may 
 be the manner in which he tries to augment his income, 
 the full responsibility for the upkeep of the family 
 rests with the father alone, and, as a consequence, he 
 enjoys the full rights of ownership and control over 
 his own home. 
 
 Under socialism the father's position will be very 
 different. For, under socialism, one kind of work will not 
 be more lucrative than another, and private businesses 
 are disallowed. Any additional funds, therefore, that 
 are required for the support of a man's children can 
 come only from the State. There is no other source 
 from which to obtain them. Under socialism the State, 
 though it will compel every man to work, will neverthe- 
 less assume the rdle of universal provider and dispenser, 
 and, therefore, if additional resources are to be supplied, 
 it must supply them. And that additional resources 
 will be required is certain. For, families are not all of 
 equal dimensions. The father of twelve children cannot 
 be expected to be content with the same income as that 
 of a father of two or three, or perhaps no children. 
 Such a system of distribution of the national income 
 would be at variance with the law of the equality of 
 all human beings before the State, a law which is the 
 pivot of the socialist theory. It would mean providing 
 support for some children and none for others in a system 
 which undertakes to provide for all. Under socialism, 
 therefore, money must be provided by the State for 
 every family according to the dimensions of the family. 
 
 And in this very responsibility assumed by the State 
 lies the grave danger to which we have referred. There 
 is an old maxim of great importance in Political Science 
 to the effect that all responsibility brings with it a pro- 
 portionate degree of authority. It is a maxim that 
 holds for the socialist State as well as for any other, 
 and, in the present instance, it leads to a startling con- 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 271 
 
 elusion as to the position of the family in the socialist 
 State. The man who pays the piper has the right to 
 call the tune. If the State has to pay according to the 
 number of children in the family, the State will eventually 
 see to it that it will be consulted on every condition in 
 the family life, e.g. as to whether families are to be set 
 up or not, and in what number, and, most serious of 
 all, what are to be the dimensions of the family. During 
 the first years of socialism the State may not care to 
 put into operation the full rights attaching to its responsi- 
 bilities in this connection. To do so would be to shock 
 the sensibilities of the greater portion of mankind. But 
 sooner or later it will make its full authority felt. And 
 it will be all the more emboldened to do so from the 
 absence in the socialist State of all religious restraints, 
 which it is the declared intention of practically all 
 socialist propagandists to abolish. The conclusion in 
 regard to the family life scarcely needs to be drawn. 
 Socialism must eventually mean the utter suppression 
 of the family independence and the abolition of the 
 rights of parents in regard to their children, rights that 
 are antecedent to, and independent of, the State, and 
 that are as old as human nature itself. It will also, by 
 placing limitations on the number of children to be 
 brought into the world with their right of support from 
 the State, so restrain the free expansion of the family 
 as to imperil the existence not only of the family but 
 of the race itself.* 
 
 Socialism and the general interest. 
 
 The foregoing are intolerable evils, evils which can- 
 not be ignored, no matter how great and good the 
 
 * It is claimed by many defenders of socialism that that theory 
 is purely economic in character, its principle being that capital should 
 be nationaUsed, and that, therefore, in its essentials socialism has 
 nothing whatsoever to do with questions of family organisation, and 
 would offer no hindrance to the continuance of present family rights. 
 Our argument in the text will show that there is an intimate con- 
 nection between socialism considered as a mere economic doctrine 
 and the question of the existence and rights of the family 
 
272 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 purpose aimed at in any system of which they are the 
 natural consequences, and they afford clear proof that 
 socialism is not only dangerous but intrinsically wrong, 
 that as a State system it could not be justified in any 
 circumstances. 
 
 But for the sake of argument let us here agree to waive 
 the strict demands of the moral law and consent to give 
 fair consideration to all the benefits arising from socialism, 
 agreeing, i.e. to ignore the outrages which that system 
 inflicts on the individual and the family, if its other 
 benefits, those, viz. accruing to society at large should 
 be of an importance commensurate with the grave 
 violations of justice and morality to which they are 
 supposed to be a set-off. But here we arrive at a 
 position the most extraordinary yet attained in the 
 history of proposals for the reform of human things. In 
 every reformatory scheme involving loss or damage in 
 certain directions it is supposed that the benefits in 
 other directions will be correspondingly great. But in 
 the case of socialism the opposite is the case. The 
 rights and liberties of individual and family in all the 
 most sacred and important relations of human life are 
 here being sacrificed. In one way only could socialism 
 hope, and in one way only does it propose to neutralise 
 or compensate for these invasions of human rights, 
 viz. by all-round enormous increase in the incomes of 
 the whole or nearly the whole people. But it is here that 
 the promise of socialism most clearly and disastrously 
 fails. Taking the conditions of socialism at their very 
 best, and disregarding the question of the necessity of 
 incentives, it is clear from our argument in the preceding 
 chapter that no class will be the gainer financially under 
 socialism ; on the contrary, the rich and middle classes 
 will be very much poorer, whilst the loss to the working 
 population, and particularly the skilled artisans, will be 
 of the most serious kind. But then, if instead of ignoring 
 the all-important question of the necessity of incentives 
 in industry, we take their necessity into account, and 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS ±^^ 
 
 also their certain absence under socialism, it becomes 
 evident that the condition of all-round loss produced 
 by socialism will be turned into a condition of all- 
 round inevitable bankruptcy, with what disastrous 
 consequences to a great but helpless proletariat can 
 easily be imagined. 
 
 It is in connection with this third consideration, that, 
 viz. of the financial position of the nation at large under 
 the socialist system, that workmen are most liable to 
 be misled and deceived ; and their position of complete 
 dependence on others for instruction in such matters 
 is fully availed of by the less scrupulous orators and 
 writers on the socialist side. To the ordinary un- 
 instructed workman what inference in the domain of 
 figures could appear more compelling and unanswerable 
 than this — that if the income of the United Kingdom in 
 a particular year was 1,750 millions, that income would, 
 if divided equally between the ten million families that 
 make up the population, afford £175 a year to every 
 family ? Now £175 a year is not a huge income for a 
 family, and skilled workmen are often astonished and 
 disappointed when they discover that socialism cannot 
 promise them more than this.* But whatever may be 
 said about the magnitude of the sum involved, the 
 reasoning in the calculation just given seems irrefragable. 
 And yet how elaborate is the suppression of facts which 
 it involves ! There is no socialist writer who does not 
 know that the whole income of the nation could not be 
 divided amongst the people in the socialist State, no 
 matter how favourable the conditions of industry in 
 that State. They know, for instance, that at least a 
 couple of hundred millions a year will then have to be 
 provided for maintenance and increase of capital out of 
 the national income as it is now provided by the owners 
 
 * That is why the socialist orators so often fail altogether to 
 mention figures, and content themselves with telling workmen, not 
 that under socialism such and such a sum will be their income, but 
 that under socialism they will be the possessors of the huge incomes 
 now enjoyed exclusively by the millionaire capitalists. 
 
 VOL. II — 18 
 
274 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of private capital. They know that a very large amount 
 of what is now regarded as national income could not 
 be divided under socialism because it represents money 
 that passes from one pocket to another, and is, there- 
 fore, counted twice over in estimating the total income 
 of the nation. If out of the pound that I have in my 
 pocket I give ten shillings to a doctor we have between 
 us a sum, not of thirty shillings, but of a pound, and if 
 our joint possessions came to be divided they would 
 amount to a sum of a pound only. So also it is clear 
 that the whole of what is called our present national 
 income, a sum which is made up by adding the incomes 
 of all persons together, would not be available for division 
 in the socialist State. These are only a couple of the 
 reductions that must first be made in the present incomes 
 of the country before we are in a position to compute 
 the sum to be divided under socialism ; other headings 
 of reduction are given in the previous chapter ; and, 
 taken together, they bring down the amount of money 
 available for distribution under the socialist regime to 
 a sum that must seem very disappointing to any in- 
 telligent workman who has once allowed himself to 
 entertain the expectations which it is the business of 
 the trained socialist to excite in the mind of the poorer 
 classes. Of all these facts there is no trained socialist 
 that is not fully aware. But the people hear as a rule 
 nothing of them. They are assured on the authority 
 of trusted leaders * that every penny of the present 
 national income will be theirs to have and to spend under 
 the new regime, and that, with the teeming millions of 
 present day capitalists flowing into the pockets of all, 
 not only will their old-time enemy class, the rich, be 
 all brought low, but the present poor will all be raised 
 with delightful suddenness, as if by the touch of some 
 magic wand, into the position of rich and independent 
 men. How different are the actual facts of the case. 
 Let even the whole present national income be divided 
 * Or at least the insinuation is freely made. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 275 
 
 equally, and, as we said, the present position ot' the 
 skilled workmen would hardly be improved^ Let only 
 some of the more necessary and unavoidable reductions 
 be made, and the incomes of the skilled workmens' 
 families and of all above them will be lower than now. 
 Let all the items of reduction be taken into account^ 
 and also the effect of removing the preseilt incentives, 
 and only one conclusion becomes possible as regards 
 the future of workmen, skilled and unskilled, and of 
 the whole nation under the socialist regime. Their 
 future will be one of all-round poverty and wretched- 
 ness, and tlfere will be no remedy to alter, or power 
 to lift them out of their ill condition. 
 
 This, then, is what the alluring promise of socialism 
 is found to amount to when examined in the light of 
 clear and indubitable fact — the certain violation of 
 every essential right of the individual, violation of the 
 most sacred family rights, bankruptcy to the race in 
 the financial sphere, and, we may add, from our reasoning 
 at the beginning of the present chapter, discontent and 
 confusion in every social relation. Is it too much to 
 conclude that socialism is not a system making for 
 human welfare, and that the socialist programme to 
 abolish all private capital is not desirable in the interest 
 of the individual, the family, or the State ? 
 
 The Limits of Lawful Nationalisation — or How 
 Far may Capital be Owned by the State ? 
 
 The preceding discussion relates to the socialist pro- 
 gramme pure and simple, viz. the nationalising of all 
 capital, or of all the sources of profit, of whatever kind. 
 That programme we have shown to be morally evil as 
 violating strict rights of justice, and as adverse to the 
 welfare of the individual, the family, and the State. 
 But it is evident that though the abolition of all private 
 capital, or the nationalising of all capital is wrong, the 
 
276 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 nationalising of some part of the capital of a country- 
 is not wrong ; on the contrary, there is no country in 
 which the public ownership of capital does not obtain 
 to some degree, and no one thinks of accusing these 
 owning states of injustice or wrong of any kind. The 
 State in Germany, for instance, has its public lands, 
 its forests, its railways ; France has a monopoly in 
 the production of matches. 
 
 The interesting question, therefore, arises, where is 
 the dividing line to be drawn between what is allowable 
 and what is wrong in the nationalisation of capital ; 
 or, how far may a State proceed in the nationalising of 
 capital without injustice to its subjects ? And though 
 no very detailed or exact answer is possible to this 
 question, still it is possible to lay down some general 
 principles which will be of use to the moralist in de- 
 termining, in particular cases, the point at which 
 nationalisation becomes morally questionable or is 
 definitely wrong. 
 
 (i) Our first general principle is that any attempt on 
 the part of the State to nationalise even any one business 
 or industry is wrong, if it is meant to lead up to the 
 complete overthrow of private capitalism, and to the 
 'final establishment of socialism. If any end is bad and 
 forbidden, then any step, no matter how insignificant 
 or remote, which is meant to lead to the accomplishment 
 of that end, is also bad and forbidden. For the remainder 
 of this discussion, however, we shall abstract altogether 
 from the question of the presence of any such ulterior 
 aim, and shall suppose that each step in the process 
 of nationalisation stands alone, and occurs just as con- 
 venience requires and for its own sake only. 
 
 (2) That the State can own capital of various kinds 
 is as indisputable as that any group of private individuals 
 can own capital. The State is a moral person, much 
 more so than a private group of owners, and if the latter 
 may lawfully own capital, the same right is not to be 
 denied to the State. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 277 
 
 (3) The State has a right even to create a monopoly 
 in certain industries or lines of business, like the match 
 industry in France and the railways in Germany, but 
 only for very grave reasons, and only after full compensa- 
 tion has been made to existing owners. There is all the 
 difference in the world between monopolies owned by 
 private individuals and monopolies set up by the State. 
 The private individual or company which establishes 
 a monopoly succeeds in doing so, not by forbidding a 
 particular line of business to others,* but as a result of 
 open competition and by utilising the lawful expedients 
 which competition brings into play ; and supposing 
 that only lawful expedients are utilised, a private com- 
 pany has quite as good a right to acquire a monopoly 
 in open competition with others, as an individual has 
 to win a race or to secure a prize by examination. But, 
 on the other hand, when the State contemplates setting 
 up a monopoly in any line of business, it forbids all others 
 from entering that line of business, and thus effects a 
 serious encroachment on the liberty of the subject. Such 
 encroachment can only be justified by very grave 
 reasons of public policy and necessity. 
 
 We shall here attempt to giye some instances of the 
 kind of reason that would be sufficient to justify the 
 State in setting up a government monopoly, f The 
 State might effect a monopoly in any line of business. 
 State control of which is necessary for the public safety, 
 e.g. the manufacture of firearms. Again, where a business 
 is necessary for the public welfare, and where exploita- 
 tion of the public by a priva'te company would be 
 most injurious to that welfare, nationalisation is justi- 
 fiable. For this reason it is lawful under certain con- 
 
 * Some private monopolies receive protection from government, 
 that is, others are not allowed to set up competing firms. Such pro- 
 tection should only be given for grave reasons, e.g. because otherwise 
 no capitalists would be willing to undertake the risks of competition 
 connected with some business of grave public importance. 
 
 t See "The Prevention and Control of Monopolies," by W. J. 
 Brown, ch. viji) 
 
278 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 ditions to nationalise the means of transit, such as 
 railways. Again, it- is lawful to nationalise and set up 
 a government monopoly in a business which vitally 
 affects the health of the nation, such as the mUk supply, 
 provided, of course, that there is genuine danger in 
 leaving it in private hands. Nationalisation is also 
 sometimes necessary in order to prevent " a threatened 
 depletion of the national resources." To leave the coal- 
 mines in private hands might in certain cases be full of 
 danger for the community. A frequent cause of nation- 
 alisation and monopoly is found in the fact that the 
 State has had to start some very necessary business 
 for which private capital could not be obtained and 
 for which protectit)n is absolutely required if it is to be 
 kept alive. The State of ten ' affords similar protection 
 to individual enterprises when, without such protection, 
 the business in question would not be started ; and 
 what it can do for the property of private individuals 
 it can certainly do for its own property. Finally, a 
 national monopoly in some lines of business might be 
 necessary as a source of revenue and to avoid additional 
 taxation, or even on account of the difficulty of collect- 
 ing the taxes in privately owned concerns. 
 
 In any of these cases the State might be 'justified in 
 creating a monopoly in some particular line or lines of 
 business. But a grave reason is required in every case. 
 
 (4) But now the question arises as to the limits of 
 lawful State monopoly. That the universal nationalisa- 
 tion of capital, i.e. socialism, is unlawful has already 
 been established in the present chapter. But the 
 reasons why it is unlawful are here of great importance 
 since they help us to define the limits to which the 
 nationalisation of capital may lawfully be carried. For 
 purposes of our present discussion these reasons may 
 be said to reduce to two, first, the injustice done to 
 the individual and the family in suppressing the indi- 
 vidual right of initiative in the use of his money ; 
 secondly, the grave financial loss sustained by the 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 279 
 
 community at large through the suppression of private 
 initiative. Both reasons evidently lead -to the one 
 conclusion — every man in the land ought to have full 
 opportunity for turning his money into capital or a 
 source of profit ; and, arguing from this as premiss, 
 it is possible to state in general terms the limits of 
 rightful State monopoly. To a very large extent State 
 monopolies may be set up in any country without really 
 affecting a person's right of private enterprise and 
 investment. For the one line of business which the 
 State has appropriated, a thousand other lines will 
 generally remain open, in which private persons may 
 invest their savings. But if State nationalisation should 
 reach a point where the pressure of State restriction begins 
 to he felt by private persons, so that it can no longer be said 
 that these persons have ample and full opportunity for 
 private enterprise and investment, or if such a point has 
 even been definitely approached so that there is danger to 
 the private person's right of free enterprise and invest- 
 ment, then the State has already passed the limits of lawful 
 monopoly. Also, if there he anything which is of such 
 fundamental importance to the economic life of the com- 
 munity that to nationalise it would give the State a kind of 
 modified ownership over all wealth, gravely hamper the 
 freedom of private owners in every department of commerce, 
 and so introduce conditions almost equivalent to those of 
 socialism, then nationalisation in such a case would seem, 
 to be forbidden as imperilling the liberty and welfare of 
 the community.* 
 
 * We naturally think of the land in this connection. So many, 
 however, and difficult are the questions connected with land nationali- 
 sation that we have reserved our consideration of it for the 
 appendix now to follow. 
 
aSo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 APPENDIX A 
 
 The Nationalisation of the Land 
 
 The various systems of private ownership. 
 
 By ownership of the land, like ownership of any other 
 thing, is meant the right of possession, control, and use. 
 Private ownership means the right of control and use by 
 private persons. 
 
 In the case of land various systems of private ownership 
 may be distinguished. There is first the system of peasant 
 proprietorship under which the cultivator is sole owner. 
 Then there is the system of dual private ownership where a 
 private landlord supphes the capital for working the land, 
 whilst the farmer raises the crops.* It is possible also to 
 distinguish a third system of ownership, i.e. modified private 
 ownership, such as exists in Australia where the State, though 
 exercising a certain right of ownership entitling it to a rental 
 from the land, yet gives to the cultivator full actual owner- 
 ship, bestowing upon him security of tenure, and the full 
 right to use the land as he likes, and to appropriate the 
 fruits, t 
 
 The view which is advocated in the following pages is the 
 view that some kind of private ownership is necessary : 
 and the only theory that is here opposed is the theory 
 that the land should be subject to common ownership ex- 
 clusively, that there should be no such thing as private 
 ownership in land. From the discussion to follow it will be 
 evident to the reader that as between the various systems 
 of private ownership our preference lies with that of simple 
 peasant proprietorship. Speaking generally, this is the 
 system that is most productive in good results, but there 
 are cases where the system of dual private ownership is 
 
 * There is another system of dual ownership possible, which though 
 not intrinsically wrong is yet so bad in its results that nobody would 
 advocate it under any circumstances, viz. the system in wh;ch a land- 
 lord simply draws a rent from the farmer and does nothing for the 
 land. It is not intrinsically wrong because, granted that a man is 
 really owner of the land, he may by special contract lease out the land 
 to another for a certain rental, relieving himself of all responsibility 
 in regard to it. The defects, however, of such a system arfe too obvious 
 to require enumeration. 
 
 I The worst feature of this system as compared with the system 
 of dual private ownership is that, whereas a private landlord can 
 spend money on the soil in improvement, the State cannot or ought 
 not : to do so would mean spending public money in the interest of 
 a private individual instead of in the public interest, 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 281 
 
 better, viz. where a large amount of capital is required to 
 effect the necessary improvements, and the cultivator is 
 not possessed of this capital. However, this discussion 
 is not a discussion on the relative merits of the different 
 systems of private ownership, but on the system of private 
 ownership itself as opposed to pubUc ®wnership, and our 
 sole purpose is to show that private ownership of some 
 kind is necessary in the public interest. 
 
 Whether the land can be privately owned. 
 
 As a rule., the theory of common ownership of the soil is 
 made to depend on the principle that what a private individual 
 has not produced he cannot own. But this principle has 
 already been disproved in an earlier chapter of the present 
 work. Labour or production, we saw, is not the only or 
 even the chief title of ownership. If it were the only title, 
 then there is nothing that could be privately owned, for in 
 everything that is produced by human labour there is always 
 something that is not produced, i.e. the material out of 
 which the thing is made, and unless this first becomes 
 private property no part or quality of the object could 
 ever be owned. And what is true of all other kinds of pro- 
 perty is true also of the land. The land is produced in the 
 same way that all other things are produced, viz. modifica- 
 tions are introduced into it by labour, through which 
 modifications new values are set up in the land. As Leo XIII 
 writes : " the soil which is tilled and cultivated with toil 
 and skill utterly changes its condition : it was wild before — 
 it is fruitful now." " Though land," writes J. S. Mill,* " is 
 not the produce of industry most of its valuable qualities 
 are." In France, for instance, the net productiveness of 
 the land increased, by cultivation, fifty per cent, between 
 the years 1851-1874.! 
 
 Besides, it is necessary to point out that if no private 
 individual may own land because he does not produce it, 
 then neither can any community or State own land, because 
 they do not produce it. Indeed, in that case not even all 
 humanity could have a claim to it, because the land in its 
 original condition comes from nature and is not produced 
 by human hands. Moreover, if only what a man produces 
 by his own exertions can be owned, then even when a man 
 sows seed in the land he could not own the fruits — in fact. 
 
 * " Political Economy," p. 140. 
 
 t L, Beaulieu, " La Repartition des Richegses," p. uq. 
 
282 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 he could not take from the land anything but the seed he had 
 put into it. For the seed becomes a plant or a tree, and 
 grows to .maturity and to fruit, not by human labour, but 
 almost wholly by the operation of the natural forces inherent 
 in the land, and what is due to these forces, according to 
 the present theory, could not be owned. The full and 
 logical application of the theory, therefore, that the land 
 cannot be privately owned because it is not produced by 
 any person, leads to a conclusion that is not only absurd in 
 itself, but would if practically applied, prove most disastrous 
 to the community. For who would dream of putting his 
 labour into the soil or sowing seed or planting trees if he 
 could not make his own of the natural increase ? No man 
 sows seed for the purpose of receiving the same in return. 
 
 Necessity of private ownership for the public welfare 
 
 Private ownership was necessary in ancient times, if the 
 fruits of the soil were to be produced. The State at that 
 time could not have undertaken the cultivation of the soil, 
 and unless private owners undertook it the land would not 
 be cultivated. Accordingly, we find that whenever one of 
 these ancient governments effected a settlement it im- 
 mediately afterwards * proceeded to parcel out the land 
 amongst the people, to be owned and cultivated by pri- 
 vate individuals and families, so that the fruits might be 
 produced, and the people be fed. 
 
 That private ownership is necessary in modern times is 
 also evident. For instance, in practically all newly dis- 
 covered or newly developed countries it is found that, in 
 spite of the great facilities which exist nowadays for the 
 undertaking of large national operations, the land, if not 
 taken into private hands, still remains uncultivated and, 
 therefore, useless to the community ; for which reason 
 governments which are in any way anxious for the public 
 welfare are always only too wiUing to give over the land to 
 private individuals, and even to supply the capital with 
 which to work it. " The most prominent economic features 
 in a new country," writes Prof. Bastable, " are abundance 
 of land with scarcity of both labour and capital ; land is 
 consequently the cheapest of commodities, so much so, that 
 it is freely offered in full ownership as an inducement to 
 fresh settlers." f And the reason is obvious. No man is 
 
 * See Fustel de Coulanges, " Origin of Property in Land," p. 89. 
 f " Public Finance," p. 174. A lesson may be pointed here. What 
 would be the effect on those who are now, at the instigation of the 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 283 
 
 going to invest capital in land, and spend his best labour 
 upon it, and effect permanent improvements in it, unless 
 the land is his own property. Why should he work and 
 undergo expense in order to enrich other people ? It is 
 only by being made owner of the soil and possessing full 
 security of tenure that a man can be certain that the fruits 
 of present labour and present expenditure will be his own, 
 fruits, be it remembered, that on the one hand, often do 
 not appear until many years after the expenditure is under- 
 gone, and, on the other, that often are permanent once they 
 do appear, so that only an assured permanent occupation 
 of the soil can secure to a man the full ownership of that 
 which is his own. 
 
 It is plain then that unless a man is owner of the soil the 
 best will not be done for the soil. On the other hand, given 
 ownership, and then nothing will be spared in the way of 
 labour and expense. The poorest lands in Europe have 
 been turned by private ownership into land yielding the 
 richest harvests. " There is not a foot of waste land in the 
 Engadine," writes Mr. Wallace,* " the lowest part of which 
 is not much lower than the top of Snowdon. Wherever 
 grass will grow there it is, wherever an ear of rye will ripen 
 there it is to be found." In Norway where enormous results 
 have been attained in the domain of agriculture, the effects 
 are due to one cause only, viz. that the people " feel as pro- 
 prietors who receive the advantage of their own exertions." 
 
 public authorities, undertaking the cultivation of the soil in new 
 countries, effecting permanent improvements in it by their money 
 and their labour, and thus turning it from a non-paying into a paying 
 concern, if, when finally it was turned into a source of wealth, the 
 public should cry out : Is not the land for the people ? Was it not 
 given by God for the use of all ? Why should any individual own it ? 
 The principle of land-nationalisation, that private persons should 
 not be left in ownership of the soil, is an outrageous and scandalous 
 violation, not of justice only, but even of common decency. Of 
 course like every other shibboleth this also has in it some element of 
 truth. It is true that the land was given by God that the people 
 might have food, clothing, and the other necessaries and comforts 
 of life. What is often forgotten is that it is only by placing the land 
 in the hands of private owners that its fruits can be produced for the 
 race in plenty. " The earth," writes Leo XIII, " though divided 
 among private owners, ceases not thereby to minister to the needs of 
 all, for there is no one who does not live on what the land brings 
 forth." And, as another writer says (Mr. Flint, " Socialism," p. 148), 
 " if, as socialists remind us, God made the land for the good of all. 
 He cannot have so given it to all that it could benefit none. And 
 certainly it is through land becoming the property of some that it 
 can become profitable to any." 
 
 * " Land Nationalisation," p. 140. 
 
284 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The same is true of Germany, of Belgium, of France, of the 
 Channel Islands. Under private ownership the worst lands 
 in Europe have been turned into sources of abundant wealth. 
 " The magic of property," says Arthur Young, " turns sand 
 to gold." 
 
 And this necessity for private ownership becomes more 
 and more evident as the population of a country grows and 
 its commercial system develops. In a developed country 
 intensive cultivation is absolutely required if the land is 
 to be made to yield a profit and if the population is to be 
 maintained. Intensive cultivation is required not only in 
 the older but also in the newer countries in spite of their 
 vast tracts of cultivatable land. " In America," said Sir H. 
 Plunkett,* " it is recognised that the increase in population 
 during the last decade had so outgrown in proportion to 
 the food-production that unless remedies are forthcoming 
 the United States would not be able to feed itself, and, 
 instead of exporting food supphes, would have to import 
 them." But intensive cultivation implies, first, the effecting 
 of continuous costly improvements, and, secondly, the 
 fullest and most whole-hearted labour and care, not for a 
 period only, but continuously, on the part of those who 
 cultivate the land. For the essence of intensive cultivation 
 is that the best that is in the land should be got out of it ; 
 also that capacities which are not naturally in the soil should 
 be created in it by human exertion, i.e. by artificial enrich- 
 ment and by the exercise of continuous care and labour. 
 Without • such expenditure and such care much land will 
 remain useless ; much more wiU remain far below the full 
 level of cultivation. 
 
 The conclusion to which we are led by all this reasoning 
 is that private ownership in land is necessary for the public 
 welfare. We do not say under what conditions private 
 ownership to be beneficial ought to be exercised. We claim 
 merely that private ownership of some kind is necessary. 
 It is necessary if the crops are to be produced and the world 
 made richer from the land. 
 
 Inefficacy of the methods proposed for eliminating present 
 private.ownership. 
 
 The conclusion to which we were led in the last section 
 may be confirmed by consideration of the methods proposed 
 for getting rid of the present owners. For it must be ad- 
 
 * At London, March i^th, 1913. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 285 
 
 mitted that in most countries the land is at present owned 
 by private persons, and these must first be renwved from 
 their position as owners before the land could be turned into 
 national property. For this end there are only two methods 
 possible, the method of confiscation and the method of 
 purchase. Now from what has already been said it will be 
 manifest that simply to confiscate all present private pro- 
 perty in land, i.e. to take the land from the present private 
 owners without compensation of any kind, would be a great 
 and intolerable injustice which no reasonable person would 
 think of advocating. But there are writers who advocate 
 the compulsory appropriation by the State of the whole 
 land of the country, due compensation being made to the 
 existing owners. But this is impossible, or, at all events, if 
 carried out, would be a wholly unprofitable transaction. 
 The disadvantages, however, to which we here allude are 
 not the disadvantages that we have already discussed, 
 viz. that if private ownership happened to be abohshed, 
 the land would not be properly worked (a position which 
 we think has already been made abundantly clear) but the 
 special disadvantage that the public purchase of the lands, 
 even if it could be accomplished, would lay such a burden 
 on the community as would make the transaction wholly 
 unprofitable if not a definite source of loss to the nation. 
 There are, of course, cases where some of the owners have 
 been bought out by the State, as in Ireland, where the land- 
 lords' interest was purchased so as to turn the tenants 
 into full proprietors. But this meant buying out some of 
 the owners only ; and, besides, the purchase made in the 
 case of Ireland was largely effected by making the tenant 
 farmer the buyer, the expense of purchase being borne, 
 not by the community at large but by the tenant himself 
 whom the State merely helped to buy out the land, and 
 to whom it lent money for the purpose. But, as we have 
 said, the attempt to buy out at the public expense all the 
 landowners in any country would be an immense trans- 
 action, probably impossible, and certainly unprofitable. 
 Let us take the case of France. In France a sum of 
 twenty million pounds is annually sunk in the land for 
 purposes of improvement.* Not all of this, of course, 
 is permanent improvement. But much of it is. In 
 fifty years these accumulated sums would amount in 
 the way of permanent improvement to perhaps five 
 hundred millions. Even if in the purchase of the land 
 
 * L. Beaulieu, " La Repartition des Richesses," p. no. 
 
286 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 no other compensation were to be made than the valne 
 of the improvements during these fifty years, how 
 closely allied to the impossible the transaction appears ! 
 And, if possible, how utterly unprofitable ! The net profits 
 of the large landowners in France do not amount to four 
 per cent.* on the outlay in improvements. Now, in order to 
 buy them out, money should be borrowed at from four to 
 four and a half per cent. The purchase of their interests, 
 therefore, would mean borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, 
 with definite loss in the transaction. Or let us take a case 
 more favourable to the socialist schemes. What would it 
 profit the community at large if the interests of the land- 
 lords in England were acquired by public purchase ? Money 
 should be borrowed at least at from four to four and a half 
 per cent, and by means of this money, the public would 
 become possessed of the present net profit of the landlords. 
 And what is that present net profit ? According to Mr. 
 R. J . Thompson | the net return to the landlords of England 
 and Wales after allowance is made for capital spent in 
 drainage, fences, etc., is at the low rate of £s 8s. 4d. per cent. 
 Such purchase would obviously confer little or no gain on 
 the community. The purchase, therefore, even of the land- 
 lords' interests in England, would hardly be a source of 
 profit to the country, whilst to purchase all titles would be 
 next to impossible. But, as was said before, even if these 
 titles were appropriated by the community, and all private 
 ownership in the land was eliminated, the community at 
 large would be finally the loser, since without private owner- 
 ship the proper cultivation of the land would not be secured. 
 
 The proposed methods for administering the land under 
 the system of public ownership. 
 
 Just a word on the several possible methods for cultivating 
 the soil, when private ownership has been eliminated. It is 
 evident from the consideration of these methods that cultiva- 
 tion under the socialist regime will be wholly impossible. 
 The possible methods are, first, cultivation by salaried 
 officials ; second, part appropriation of the harvest by the 
 cultivator. J If the land is to be tilled by official farmers 
 
 * L. Beaulieu, " Le CoUectivisme," p. 38. 
 
 t Paper read before Royal Statistical Society of London (Dec, 
 1907) and now published in their journal. 
 
 X We pass over the case in which the farmer owns the fruits, but 
 pays a fixed rental to the government as in Australia, for that , as we 
 have already said, leaves the farmers, once they are given fixity of 
 tenure, private owners of the soil. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 287 
 
 and all the fruits are to be sent to a great central depot, 
 the cultivators receiving a regular salary, then there is no 
 incentive to do more than what entitles the cultivator to 
 this guaranteed salary. Moreover, the entire fruits will not 
 go to the government, and the net result will be that the 
 farmers, as well as receiving most of the fruits of the soil, 
 will also receive a salary for producing them. 
 
 The second system is no better. If the farmer is given 
 a certain quantity of fruits by way of return for his labour 
 he will produce that quantity and as little as possible in 
 addition. Moreover, of this addition he will appropriate 
 as much as possible. Besides, in the production of it he will 
 have little care for the expenses used up in production, and 
 so the net return to the government on what it pays out 
 wiU be exceedingly small. Of course it is possible to imagine 
 a farmer undergoing all expenses himself, being left in entire 
 possession of the fruits, and then paying the government 
 a small proportion of the net return from the land by way 
 of rent. But that would leave the farmer private owner ;* 
 and, also, in a country hke England the question would still 
 arise whether it was worth while purchasing' the interests 
 of the landlord for the sake of receiving this rental. 
 
 Short, then, of some system of private ownership, at least 
 such a degree of it as obtains in the Colonies, in which the 
 farmers are given security of tenure and have full control 
 of the land and of the fruits, it seems impossible to devise 
 a method by which men can be induced to cultivate the 
 soil on terms which will render it a source of public profit ; 
 and, therefore, if private ownership should ever be abolished 
 in land, and the land taken over by the community, the 
 great difficulty for the community will be to know what to 
 do with it. It s^ems to us that what must happen is a 
 gradual reversion to the system of private ownership under 
 peasant cultivators enjoying at least security of tenure. 
 
 Our reasoning on this whole question of land nationalisa- 
 tion has necessarily been of the briefest kind. But it will 
 suffice to disprove the two cardinal tenets of the theory of 
 land-nationaHsation — viz. first, that the land cannot be 
 owned by private individuals because it is not produced 
 by human labour ; and, secondly, that the land under the 
 system of pubhc ownership would be more beneficial to the 
 community than under the system of private ownership. 
 
 * It would be the mixed system adopted in Australia except that 
 in Australia the rental is a fixed sum. 
 
288 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The conclusion to which our reasoning in the present discus- 
 sion leads us is that though certain evils attach to the system 
 of private ownership in land, e.g. that in some * countries 
 the proportion of the population living by the soil is un- 
 doubtedly too small, nevertheless, the system of private 
 ownership is the system best suited for the attainment of 
 that end for which the soil is primarily given in the scheme 
 of nature, namely, the production of the fruits of the earth 
 and their enioyment by the human race.f 
 
 * In England this is in part due to historical factors, in part to 
 industrial conditions, and in part to want of security of tenure 
 on the part of the farmer. Of course, if a farmer is to be interested 
 in his land he must have security of tenure. But it is to be remembered 
 that in regard to the number of persons that live from the soil England 
 is in quite an exceptional position. In the United States there are 
 about five million holdings, and so the number of families in occupa- 
 tion of the soil in America must be very large. In Germany 86 per cent, 
 of the soil is owned by occupiers, and in 1895 there were about six 
 million holdings (Webb, op. cit.). In France there are about six 
 million families in occupation (Mermeix, " Le Socialisme," p. 189). 
 In Ireland there were in 1912 about 550,000 families occupying the 
 soil out of about 800,000 families constituting the entire population. 
 We admit, of cqjirse, that not all of their holdings are self-sufi&cing. 
 
 t After all that we have said on land nationalisation it will not 
 be necessary to make a special examination of the Single Tax theory 
 connected with the name of Mr. Henry George. Its first supposition 
 is that the land in so far as it is the work of nature cannot be privately 
 owned, production, Mr. George asserts, being the only rightful title 
 of ownership. Then its proposals are deduced. They are first to 
 pay the landlord for all the improvements he has made in the soil, 
 to leave the cultivators owners of the soil, and owners of the fruits, 
 but to put a tax upon the produce of the laud corresponding to the 
 original values of the soil, its values before human labour was spent 
 upon it. These original values, he declares, represent so great a 
 proportion of the total produce of the land, that when they are taken 
 from this produce they will suffice to pay all the expenses of the 
 State without resort to any other sort of tax. Hence the name of 
 " single-tax." As a result of course, since most of the produce of the 
 land will go to the government by way of tax, not much will remain to 
 remunerate the farmer for his work. 
 
 Our reply is obvious. First, it is utterly untrue that the land, 
 even so far as concerns its original values, cannot be owned by private 
 persons. This we have proved in the course of our discussion on land 
 nationalisation ; secondly, if the farmer is left only a small portion 
 of the produce of the land as remuneration for his work he will not 
 spend money on, or give his labour to, the land. The Australian 
 government cannot get men to cultivate the soil where the rental 
 paid is more than two or three per cent, of the capital value ; thirdly, 
 the figures given in the text will show that the original values of the 
 soil are not large in comparison with those created by human labour. 
 The productiveness of the land in France was increased in the space 
 of twenty-three years by fifty per cent. Indeed, we are not without 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 2&g 
 
 APPENDIX B 
 
 Nationalisation of the Coal-Mines 
 
 The reader may wish for a brief answer at this point to 
 the question whether the coal-mines ought to be nationahsed. 
 Already we have pointed out that nationalisation might be 
 a good thing in certain extreme cases (full compensation, of 
 course, being made to owners), for instance, where nationalisa- 
 tion of the mines is necessary in order to prevent the too 
 rapid depletion of the national resources in coal, or in order 
 to provide an assured and constant supply of coal in time 
 of war. 
 
 But apart from such extreme cases it is pretty clear that 
 the nationalisation of the coal-mines, in England at all 
 events, would be of no value to the nation and could hardly 
 be effected without injustice to the existing owners. Un- 
 thinking persons are wont to look on coal-mines as sources 
 of immense wealth to their owners, of wealth the acquiring 
 of which is attended by no financial risk of any kind. As a 
 matter of fact, enormous sums of money have to be spent 
 on coal-mines before they can become a source of profit 
 to their owners, and many of the collieries in England are 
 not at present a source of profit. " Many collieries," said 
 Mr. D. A. Thomas, addressing the Consolidated Cambrian 
 Company (Feb. 24th, 1915), " on last year's working 
 would pay no dividend at all on their ordinary shares." 
 And Mr. Mallock * quotes a case, which even the labour 
 leaders regarded as representing the normal conditions, of a 
 coal-mine the total receipts of which amounted to £710,000, 
 of which £631,000 went in wages only £39,000 being paid in 
 dividend to the shareholders. 
 
 absolute figures as to the value of the soil apart from cultivation. 
 Whereas it is known that the agricultural products of Great Britain 
 are about ;£225,ooo,ooo, the original value of the agricultural land in 
 England and Wales is computed by Mr. Thompson in the paper 
 already referred to, to be about six millions. The original natural 
 values of the soil thus represent a very small proportion of the present 
 productiveness, at least in the case of agricultural land. Fourthly, 
 this figure gives no hope that by means of a single tax on land the 
 government can pay all the expenses of the State. Even before the 
 great war (1914) the expenditure of Great Britain and Ireland was 
 close on two hundred millions, whilst the total original land values, 
 including not merely agricultural land, but those of the mines and 
 the building-sites, was only about fifty millions (See Harold Cox, 
 " Land Nationalisation," p. 134 ; also Inland Revenue Report, 
 Cd. 2,228, p. 205). 
 
 * " Social Reform," p. 266. 
 
 VOL. II — ig 
 
ago THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The significance of these facts is obvious. On the one 
 hand, they make it clear that if in the olden days the mines 
 had not been opened by private owners they could not be 
 opened at all, such are the risks run and the care required 
 to make a mine a paying concern, so that to confiscate the 
 mines, now that the mines have been opened by private 
 owners, would be a scandalous piece of brigandage, and would 
 be sure to do immense harm to business generally by breaking 
 down the confidence of the people. On the other hand, to 
 purchase these mines would, judging by the figures we have 
 quoted, be of little or no financial value to the State. And 
 the value of such purchase will seem all the less when it is 
 remembered that the mines in England have been working 
 for a considerable time, and that a mine, unlike other sources 
 of wealth, decreases in value according as it is worked. In 
 many of the English mines the cheaply-worked and more 
 valuable seams are now exhausted. Consequently to take 
 them over now would be to take over a property already 
 much depreciated in value. 
 
 APPENDIX C 
 The Unearned Increment on Building-Sites 
 
 To nationalise the building-sites themselves would be 
 quite impossible. It would be impossible, for instance, for 
 the government to enter into a bargain with the land- 
 owners for the purchase of every plot of ground in the 
 country on which a house happened to appear. Even the 
 trouble and expense of acquiring these sites, not to speak 
 of their administration, would be very great. 
 
 What, however, is seriously proposed is to put a heavy tax 
 on all unearned increments on the value of the building- 
 sites ; and this, since these unearned increments generallj' 
 occur in cities or their neighbourhood, would, it is said, to 
 a large extent, define and limit the area within which pur- 
 chases by government might be made. 
 
 Now it is evident that unearned increments on land are 
 not to be regarded as unlawful in any way. They are 
 increments in value due to increased demand, and they are 
 just as lawful as increases in the value of any other commo- 
 dities due to increased demand. What is wrong about them 
 is that they are so often excessive. Eggs that at one 
 time are sold for twopence could not at another time be 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 291 
 
 sold for a pound, no matter how great the demand. There 
 is a just price which ought not to be exceeded by the seller, 
 and this price, even after increment occurs, always bears 
 some proportion to the original value of the article. On 
 the other hand, in the case of building-sites, the price de- 
 manded is often a hundred times greater than the original 
 value, and often no limit in the price demanded is observed 
 except the limits imposed by the necessities of the buyers. 
 This is altogether unreasonable and wrong. 
 
 Though, therefore, what is spoken of as unearned incre- 
 ment in land is not unlawful, still in dealing with, and im- 
 posing taxes on, increments in the values of building-sites, 
 government ought to be given a very free hand. For, first, 
 a good deal of money would thus accrue to the community ; ■ 
 and, secondly, such a tax, particularly if it is made pro- 
 gressive, would help to prevent the extortions which at 
 present are only too common in cities, extortions which go 
 very far to prevent the erection of useful and necessary 
 buildings of various kinds, and, as common sense will show 
 us, the burden of which has in the long run to be borne 
 for the most part by the poorer classes, in the increased 
 rents they have to pay, increased food-prices, and their 
 diminished weekly wage. 
 
 APPENDIX D 
 
 Theory of Primitive Communism in Land 
 
 The theory that all land originally belonged to the com- 
 munity and that private ownership in land is of comparatively 
 recent origin is obviously of great importance, not only in 
 history but in Moral Science and Economics also. Here we 
 are interested in the theory on its moral side chiefly. " In 
 aU primitive societies," writes M. de Laveleye,* " the soil 
 was the joint property of the tribe and was subject to 
 periodical distribution among all the families, so that all 
 might live by their labour as nature has ordained." He 
 instances a number of alleged present survivals of this 
 ancient system, and also gives documentary proof of its 
 original existence even in countries where no trace of com- 
 munal ownership now remains. He maintains that there 
 can be no doubt that communal ownership once existed in 
 
 * " Primitive Property," preface. 
 
292 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Russia, Switzerland, Java, India, Germany, amongst the 
 Celts, and even in Greece and Rome, thus estabhshing a 
 strong presumption that in the earliest period of man's 
 existence communal ownership obtained universally, to the 
 complete exclusion of private ownership. And though 
 M. de Laveleye does not recommend a return to this com- 
 munal system, he yet considers that it is more natural than 
 private ownership, and his work has been utilised by other 
 writers to establish the contention that communal ownership 
 is preferable to private ownership, as more in accordance 
 with natural law. 
 
 Reply. — ^M. de Laveleye' s theory which at one time com- 
 manded almost universal acceptance amongst students of 
 ancient history, may now be regarded as on the verge of 
 becoming obsolete. All recent investigation into ancient 
 forms of ownership has favoured unreservedly the view that 
 private ownership in land preceded common ownership, not 
 only in general but also even in the special cases appealed 
 to by M. de Laveleye in support of his theory. But though 
 this theory is now nearly obsolete, nevertheless a few words 
 will be required here upon it — first, as to the exact bearing 
 of the theory favoured by M. de Laveleye on the general 
 moral problem of the right of private ownership in land, 
 and then, secondly, on the special question of history, whether 
 viz. public ownership is more ancient than private owner- 
 ship and whether it ever obtained universally in the world."* 
 
 (a) It is now universally conceded, and has been con- 
 ceded even by M. de Laveleye himself, that wherever com- 
 munal ownership in land has obtained, almost in every case, 
 the land-owning village has consisted of people united by 
 blood, and forming between them one large family. Thus 
 in the case of the Russian Mir, M. de Laveleye writes : " the 
 patriarchal family is the basis of the commune ; and the 
 members of the Mir (the village community) are generally 
 considered as descended from a common ancestor. Family 
 ties have maintained a force among the Russians, as also 
 among the Slavs of the Danube and the Balkans, which 
 they have lost elsewhere. . . . All property is common. 
 There is usually neither succession nor partition." But it 
 must be conceded that ownership by the family, however 
 large, is a very different thing from public ownership. If at 
 
 * Section a will be devoted to the consideration of the first of 
 these two questions, section b to the second. 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 293 
 
 present a portion of land were in the possession of a single 
 family and if, as the children married and the family grew, 
 the land by mutual consent or by direction of the law re- 
 mained undivided, the whole family participating in the 
 fruits, no one would consider such a form of ownership as 
 public or common. It would be regarded as simply a case 
 of private family ownership. 
 
 We do not, of course, maintain that such cases of common 
 ownership as at present exist, or alleged cases of it in the 
 past, are always to be explained as a survival of ancient 
 family ownership. In England, for instance, the serfs were 
 often allotted a portion of land by their over-lord to be held 
 and used in common by them ;* and often certain lands were 
 held in common for the simple reason that nobody had ever 
 positively appropriated these lands. Thus in most countries, 
 side by side with the system of private property, there 
 existed also cases of communal ownership which could not 
 be explained as instances of private family ownership. f 
 But none of these cases afford the slightest ground for be- 
 lieving that originally all land was held in common. On 
 the contrary, they are practically all off-shoots, or bye- 
 products of private ownership whether by individuals or 
 families. 
 
 (6) The historical question proper, whether as a matter 
 of fact aU land was originally held in common, can only be 
 treated here in the very briefest manner. For fuller informa-. 
 tion on this difficult and important subject the reader is 
 referred to the various authorities mentioned in the notes 
 to the present section. That private property in land 
 existed and was accepted by the people as the traditional 
 and normal form of ownership in the earliest periods known 
 to history can easily be established. 
 
 The Jews, for instance, admitted the right of private 
 ownership, as is proved by Abraham's purchase of a field 
 from Ephron, and as is also abundantly evidenced in the 
 law not to covet one's neighbour's wife, nor his house, nor 
 his field. 
 
 * See Seebohm, " The English Village Community." 
 t In ancient Ireland these commons were annually re-divided 
 amongst the people of the township, a fact says Prof. O'SuUivan 
 (Preface to " O'Curry's Lectures," second series) which gave rise to 
 the idea that all land was held in common. See G. Sigerson, Lan4 
 Tenures of Irel9,n4. . ' 
 
294 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Concerning Egypt there is an abundance of "historical 
 evidence both sacred and profane. From sacred history, 
 for instance, we have the story of the sale of private lands 
 to Joseph by the Egyptians. Profane history provides us 
 with innumerable examples of private property, one of which 
 only needs to be mentioned. In his " Ancient History of 
 the Monuments" (Vol. on Egypt, p. 31) Mr. Birch* refers 
 us to an ancient record dating as far back as the reign of 
 Spnefru (3000 B.C.) in which a certain official is recounted 
 as the private owner of land, " some of which came to him 
 by hereditary descent, whilst some was the gift of the 
 monarch." 
 
 The history of Babylon supplies innumerable proofs that 
 private property was the settled system of the nation even 
 at the very beginnings of history. In his work, " A History 
 of Sumer and Akkad," | Mr. L. W. King writes, " the 
 earliest written records of the Sumerians," whose political 
 career, as Mr. King explains in his preface, preceded the 
 Babylonian monarchy, " which we possess, apart from those 
 engraved upon stone, and of a purely votive character, con- 
 cern the sale and donation of land." He then gives instances 
 of private property which brings us back to 3,000 B.C. 
 Boscawen, also, in his interesting work, " The First of 
 Empires," % refers to inscriptions dating back to 3,800 B.C. 
 in which plans of private estates with the names of their 
 owners are fully described ; and in " Records of the Past " 
 (New Series, Vol. III.) there are reproduced a number of 
 ancient "Babylonian agricultural precepts" (based on the 
 system of private property) from an old mutilated tablet 
 in the British Museum which brings us back to 3,800 B.C. 
 At this early period, therefore, in the history of the race, 
 pri-vate property seems to have been the normal and accepted 
 system, whilst of a general system of communal ownership 
 proper, if ever it existed, no trace seems to have remained. 
 
 And what we say of the private economical relations of 
 the Babylonian people we say also of their legal system — 
 
 * See also Birch's " Egypt from tlie Earliest Times." The reader 
 who wishes to realise the great antiquity of private property and the 
 place it held in the economic system of the world, even at the very 
 dawn of history, should consult two very delightful series of books — 
 one, " History of the Monuments," in which the proofs are narrated, 
 and the conclusions drawn ; the other, " Records from the Past," 
 in which one is brought into contact with the historical sources. 
 
 t Chapter on " The Dawn of History." 
 
 I p. M4- 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 295 
 
 the laws of Babj'lon were based upon the understanding of 
 private ownership. In the oldest code of 19ws known to 
 history — the code of Hammurabi * (2,285 B.C.) there are 
 numerous injunctions as regards the management and 
 sale of private lands, for instance, that " a votary merchant 
 or foreign sojourner may sell his field," all of which in- 
 junctions prove that private ownership obtained not merely 
 at the beginnings of history but also at a much earlier period, 
 since the legal systems of the East are, above all things, 
 conservative, and are in every case a reflex of customs and 
 of a system far older than themselves. 
 
 (c) The many instances of common ownership alleged by 
 M. de Laveleye are, as we have already said, no longer re- 
 garded as proof either that the system of common owner- 
 ship originally obtained universally in the world, or even 
 that it preceded the system of private ownership in the 
 particular countries where something like common ownership 
 still exists. On the contrary, all recent investigation into 
 the origin of property is regarded as leading to the conclusion 
 that, even in the countries instanced by M. de Laveleye in 
 support of his theory, private property preceded the system 
 of common ownership. The steps, for instance, which led 
 to the establishment of communal ownership in the case of 
 the Russian Mir, which occupies so prominent a place in 
 M. de Laveleye's discussion, are now well known. f These 
 communal lands were once the private property of the 
 Russian nobles. The peasants who tilled these lands were 
 
 * " The Oldest Code of Laws in the World," translated by C. H. 
 W. Johns, M.A.; see also Cook, " The Laws of Moses and the Code 
 of Hammurabi," p. 17. In the " Letters of Hammurabi " (ed. by 
 L. W. King, p. 28) it is narrated how in " the district of the town of 
 Dun-gugurri the ownership of the land by Ea-lu-bani is ancient for 
 on a tablet it is ascribed to him " — a very interesting narration. 
 Further ancient references from the tablets in the British Museum, 
 recording contracts for sale of land are given in " Records of the 
 Past," and should be consulted by the reader. 
 
 That private property was the admitted system of land owner- 
 ship in Assyria at the earliest historical period is proved by docu- 
 mentary evidence similar to the above. For the references we can 
 only refer the reader to G. Smith's " Ancient History from the Monu- 
 ments " (Assyria), and " The Annals of the Kings of Assyria," by 
 Leonard King (see e.g. p. 252). 
 
 In connection with this whole argument we have to express our 
 great indebtedness to Father Cathrein, S.J., for the guidance given 
 us in his work, " Moralphilosophie," Vol. II. 
 
 t See Art. by W. G. Simkhowitch in ' ' Handworterbuch der Staats- 
 wissenschaften." 
 
296 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 at that time freemen, coming and going when they willed. 
 Then at the end of the sixteenth century the peasants were 
 forcibly attached to the soil by law. At the beginning of 
 the eighteenth century came the well-known poll-tax of 
 Peter the Great, and many writers are of the opinion that it 
 was on that occasion that the tenants threw their various 
 holdings into one, under a system of common ownership. 
 Whether this is correct or not it is now certain that the 
 system of common ownership in the Russian Mir is of quite 
 recent origin. In a recent work upon the subject Jan St. 
 Lewinski writes :* " The European Russian Village Com- 
 munities" [with their common lands] "did not exist in 
 the olden time : they originated and developed only out of 
 private property and since the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries," and, having reviewed the other instances men- 
 tioned by socialists, he gives us as his final general con- 
 clusion : " individual ownership is the primitive and natural 
 form." 
 
 Want of space forbids our discussing at any length the 
 other instances mentioned by M. de Laveleye. But a full 
 and very able discussion on them will be found in Fustel 
 de Coulanges' work, " The Origin of Property in Land." 
 More recent information even can be acquired from St. 
 Lewinski's bpok already mentioned. f In practically all the 
 cases mentioned by M. de Laveleye any traces of common 
 ownership that still survive are simply relics of an ancient 
 family ownership. This is obviously true, e.g. of the Balkan 
 States, of India, and of the Celts. 
 
 But a special reference to the land system of the ancient 
 Celts may well be allowed in a work emanating from Ireland. 
 Among the Celts land was formerly vested in the family to 
 four generations. And even this title, dividing the owner- 
 ship of the land among so many, had rather a legal than an 
 economic significance. Its principal use was to determine 
 ownership in case of dispute. In reaUty, however, and in 
 practice each single branch of the family owned and ad- 
 ministered its own share. In Irish history there is nothing 
 whatever to favour the theory that originally all the land 
 was the joint property of the whole people or even of the 
 people of a particular district. The theory that originally 
 in Ireland all land was common is, indeed, based on pure 
 
 * " The Origin of Property," p. 29. 
 
 t And from various works published by Prof. Ashley, e.g. his 
 introduction to Fustel de Coulanges' work already quoted, and his 
 Qwn interesting bool? : " Surveys, Historical and Economig," 
 
REMAINING DEFECTS 297 
 
 misinterpretation of a very simple fact. In Ireland, as in 
 most other countries, there were always some tommon lands 
 existing side by side with the private estates. Such common 
 lands exist to-day and are of exceeding great use wherever 
 they are found. Now, in ancient Ireland these common 
 lands were annually distributed, and this annual distribution 
 has been erroneously taken by certain modern writers as 
 proof that the whole land was divided annually and, there- 
 fore, could not have been owned by private individuals. 
 See interesting discussion on this whole subject in Dr. 
 Sigerson's Land Tenures of Ireland ; also "A Social History 
 of Ancient Ireland," by P. W. Joyce, Vol. I., p. 184. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 ON CONTRACTS 
 
 DEFINITION 
 
 Contract is defined as a mutual agreement between 
 two or more persons concerning something to be done 
 or omitted, and productive of an obligation in justice 
 in one or both of the parties. 
 
 First, contract is an agreement, i.e. an assent of two 
 wills to the same object. A promise, for instance, 
 which is not accepted is not a contract, there being 
 assent on the part of one will only. Secondly, this 
 agreement must be mutual. Two wills might just 
 happen to assent to the same thing, but double assent 
 of this casual kind is not a contract. In a contract 
 the assent on one side is given in view of the assent given 
 on the other. This is what is meant by mutual assent. 
 Thirdly, contractual agreement begets an obligation — 
 an obligation in justice. Not every obligation is an 
 obligation in justice. If one man promises to go for a 
 walk with another, he is bound, if he can, to keep his 
 word — ^but, in truthfulness only, not in justice. If he 
 fails to keep his word he has not violated any right in 
 justice of the promisee. His promise, therefore, is not 
 a contract. We should add that, generally speaking, 
 rights in justice arise only in cases in which there is 
 question of an object or utility or a service which is 
 fretio aestimahile, as will be seen when we come to speak 
 of the object of contract. Fourthly, the obligation in 
 justice which is necessary to a contract may be on 
 one side only. It is only assent to the object of the 
 contract, not obligation, that is required on both sides. 
 
 The above definition implies certain conditions of 
 
 298 
 
ON CONTRACTS 299 
 
 contract which must be here briefly explained. They 
 relate : — 
 
 (a) to the contractual act — the act of agreement or 
 consent ; 
 
 (b) to the object of this act ; 
 
 (c) to the contracting parties. 
 
 (a) Consent 
 the parts or elements of consent 
 
 The two parts or elements of contractual consent are 
 offer and acceptance. These are present in every con- 
 tract. In the contract of promise, for instance, there is 
 offer on one side and acceptance on the other. In 
 buying and selling, these two elements are present on 
 both sides. No contract is to be regarded as valid or 
 complete unless an offer of some kind is made by one 
 party and accepted by the other. 
 
 Two important questions arise in relation to these 
 two elements of consent, viz.— when does offer cease ? 
 and, should the act of acceptance be brought to the 
 knowledge of the offerer ? 
 
 (a) Cessation of offer. 
 
 An offer remains open so long as the offerer wishes, 
 subject to the duty of not injuring the other party. 
 Ordinarily, it ceases in any of the three following 
 ways — ^by revocation, by lapse, by rejection. 
 
 An offer can be revoked, but, like offer itself, revocation 
 should be made known to the other party to the con- 
 tract. Also revocation should occur before the original 
 offer is accepted — else it is too late. For acceptance 
 fixes the offer and the contract. It should be noted, 
 however, that the mode of acceptance depends wholly 
 on the offerer, he may require any condition in the 
 acceptance that he likes, and unless that condition is 
 fulfilled the offer is not supposed to be validly accepted. 
 An interesting point in connection with revocation i? 
 
300 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 that whereas an offer may be revoked, acceptance 
 cannot, and for the obvious reason that acceptance 
 closes and seals the contract. 
 
 Again, offer can cease bj' lapse of time, i.e. if acceptance 
 is not signified within a reasonable time the offer lapses 
 unless, indeed, the offerer still wishes to keep it open. 
 
 Finally, offer ceases by rejection, provided again that 
 it is not kept open by the offerer. 
 
 (b) The communication of acceptance. 
 
 Should acceptance be brought to fhe knowledge of 
 the offerer ? Acceptance must, like offer, be communi- 
 cated, i.e. manifested by some external act, but once 
 such act has taken place, is the contract then closed, or 
 does it remain open until this act of acceptance is actually 
 brought to the knowledge of the offerer .'' On this point 
 two opinions prevail ; * but we believe that the negative 
 opinion has most reason on its side. The chief argument 
 will probably already have occurred to the reader ; 
 if the contract is suspended until acceptance is made 
 known to the offerer, there is no reason in the world 
 why it should not again be suspended until the fact that 
 the offerer has been apprised of the acceptance has in 
 turn been brought to the knowledge of the acceptor. 
 And thus the contract could never be closed. 
 
 In English law, certainly, which in matters of justice 
 may generally be regarded as reflecting the requirements 
 of natural law, acceptance need not be brought to the 
 knowledge of the offerer. " There is," writes Anson, f 
 " this marked difference between communication of 
 offer and communication of acceptance ; that whereas 
 an offer is not held to be communicated until it is brought 
 to the knowledge of the offeree, acceptance may be held 
 to be communicated though it has not come to the know- 
 ledge of the offerer ; and under such circumstances a 
 contract is made." 
 
 * It is maintained by some that at least in the case of bilateral 
 contracts (see later, p. 309) such knowledge is required, 
 I " I<aw of Contract," p. 28, 
 
ON CONTRACTS 301 
 
 THE QUALITIES OF CONSENT 
 
 Consent must be free, it must be internally given, 
 and it must be externally manifested by the parties. 
 
 The second and third of these qualities are easily 
 understood. Contract is a human act and, therefore, 
 consent must be internal. Mere words spoken without 
 consciousness or internal consent would not be a human 
 act and could not give rise to contract. On the other 
 hand, since contract implies communication between two 
 persons, and since communication can only be by means 
 of external acts, the internal act of consent must always 
 be manifested in some way by an external act. But 
 important and difficult questions arise in regard to the 
 first of the three qualities of consent mentioned, viz. 
 the freedom of consent. Of this quality we must speak 
 at greater length than of the other two. 
 
 The freedom of consent is vitiated, first, by ignorance 
 or error ; secondly, by fear or duress. A man cannot 
 be said to consent freely to something which he does not 
 know. And a man cannot be said to give free consent 
 where consent is wrung out of him by fear. We shall 
 treat, therefore, first, of error as vitiating contract, 
 secondly, of fear. 
 
 ERROR 
 
 The natural rule as to the effect of error or mistake 
 on contracts is — no consent no contract, and, therefore, 
 it is only in so far as error excludes consent that it 
 vitiates contract. But consent is of two kinds — explicit 
 and implied ; and since either is sufficient for a valid 
 contract, it follows that ignorance or mistake affects 
 contract only when it excludes both kinds of consent. 
 Now everyone makes mistakes about or is ignorant 
 of the qualities of an object in some points. In every 
 object there are very many points which nobody under- 
 stands. But there is always a core or substance in the 
 object which a man stipulates for and concerning which 
 
302 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 there should be no mistake. As to other points, he takes 
 a lot for granted and takes his chance of the rest, and 
 gives an implied consent to the reality whatever it is. 
 Mistake, therefore, vitiates contract only in so far as it 
 affects this central core, for this is all that the person 
 stipulates for in the making of the contract. In the 
 following principles we mark off the points or character- 
 istics in regard to which there should be no mistake if 
 the contract is to be binding. 
 
 General principles as to the effect of error. 
 
 I. Error which is substantial, i.e. which concerns the 
 substance of the contract, destroys consent and invali- 
 dates the contract. Where error concerns the substance 
 of a contract consent may, indeed, be given to something 
 other than the contract, but it is not given to the con- 
 tract itself. 
 
 Error is substantial in the following cases : — 
 
 (i) When it concerns the species of the contractual act, 
 e.g. a man, thinking that an object is being sold to him, finds 
 that it is only lent. 
 
 (2) When it concerns the substance of the object, pro- 
 vided that the substance intended identifies the object or 
 defines the thing required, e.g. the purchase of a silver orna- 
 ment instead of a gold. Where the substance does not 
 identify the object which it is intended to purchase, error 
 as regards the substance of the object does not invalidate 
 "the contract. 
 
 (3) When it concerns a quaUty only, which quality, never- 
 theless, is primarily intended, and, as in the last case, 
 identifies the object which one intends to purchase. The 
 quality in this case is said redundare in substantiam and error 
 concerning it has the same effect as error concerning the 
 substance of the object. An obvious example is the case 
 of one who asks expressly for an " old master " and receives 
 a modern painting. Similarly, where it is made clear at 
 the time of purchase that a thing is intended for a certain 
 end, then unless what is bought is reasonably suitable for 
 this end the contract is invalid. In this case it is the end 
 that identifies the object which one means to buy. 
 
ON CONTRACTS 303 
 
 (4) When something is made a conditio sine qua non of 
 the contract. This, of course, includes the case just men- 
 tioned, but it covers other cases also in which the difference 
 of value between what is received and what is contracted 
 for is less enormous than the difference ordinarily obtaining 
 between an " old master " and a modern painting. 
 
 (5) When it concerns the person of the other party to 
 the contract but only under conditions which will presently 
 be explained. Sometimes the person, concerning whom the 
 other party is ignorant, is himself not only one of the con- 
 tracting parties but is also the object of the contract. In 
 that case evidently the contract is invalid just as in the 
 second case mentioned above. If a man, for instance, goes 
 through a contract of marriage with one woman thinking 
 he is marrying another, the contract is null and void. But 
 this is not the kind of case which we are now considering. 
 The kind of error now under consideration is error concern- 
 ing the other party to the contract, as such, and, as we have 
 already said, such error invalidates the contract, but in one 
 case and under one condition only, namely, it invalidates 
 the contract where the primary intention of one of the 
 parties is not merely to make a certain contract, e.g. to make 
 a certain purchase, but to do business with, or to make a 
 purchase from a particular party. If, for instance, I made 
 it clear to the seller that the sole reason why I have come to 
 make a purchase is to help him in his difficulties, whereas, 
 as a matter of fact, it turns out that I have entirely mistaken 
 the person, my contract is invalid. An offer which is 
 primarily and manifestly meant for one person cannot be 
 accepted by another. But mere error concerning the 
 identity of the person from whom I make a purchase, with- 
 out the other condition mentioned, does not invahdate the 
 purchase. 
 
 XL Error about qualities which are immaterial or 
 slight does not invalidate the contract, or affect it in 
 any way. 
 
 III. Error about qualities which, though not primary 
 in the sense just explained, are yet so important as to 
 cause the contract (dans causam contractu!), i.e. which 
 are so important that had the truth been known the 
 contract would not have been made, affects contracts in 
 certain important particulars. Gratuitous contracts (that 
 
304 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 is, contracts in which all the utility is on one side, like 
 promise and gift) are invalidated by error of the kind. 
 It would be unreasonable to keep a man to his promise 
 who discovers the great value of the thing promised only 
 after the promise is made. It is different with onerous 
 contracts, i.e. contracts in which something is conferred 
 on both sides as in the case of " buying and selling." 
 Here error of the kind described does not invalidate the 
 contract in natural law. An object purchased for ten 
 pounds may turn out afterwards to have been worth 
 a hundred even at the time of purchase ; but since the 
 lower mistaken value was not made a condition of the 
 contract, and was not meant to identify the object, the 
 contract is valid in natural law. 
 
 In connection with contracts of the kind mentioned 
 under the third heading, we have now to raise a very 
 special question of natural justice which also is of im- 
 portance in civil law. For mistake is sometimes due 
 not to a purchaser's own want of knowledge or to care- 
 lessness, but to misrepresentation * on the part of the 
 seller of an article. And the question arises whether 
 such misrepresentation affects the contract in any way. 
 
 Now we have already seen that the validity of such a 
 contract is not affected. Misrepresentation affects the 
 validity of a contract through the mistake which it 
 creates, and provided it does not induce such a mistake 
 as would invalidate the contract, the agreement stands 
 in spite of the misrepresentation, and, as we have seen, 
 mistake about the qualities here being discussed does 
 not invalidate the contract. 
 
 But though misrepresentation does not invalidate a 
 contract it has another effect of very great importance, 
 viz. the wrong which is done to the mistaken party. 
 And this wrong sets up in the person responsible for the 
 misrepresentation a very special duty in natural law. 
 For no man is allowed to benefit by any act of his own, 
 
 * whether innocent or fraudulent. 
 
ON CONTRACTS 305 
 
 whether voluntary or involuntary, which does or 
 perpetuates injury to another. Those partis, therefore, 
 who through their misrepresentations, whether innocent 
 or fraudulent, have caused a contract to be made, are 
 bound to release the other party to the contract but 
 they are not released themselves. In other words, the 
 contract is voidable at the instance of the party which 
 is misled.* There is, however, a difference between the 
 position of the man whose misrepresentation is innocent 
 and that of the person whose misrepresentation is 
 fraudulent. In both cases there is a duty of releasing 
 the injured party from the contract, but, whereas in 
 the case of innocent misrepresentation a man is bound 
 to restitution only to the extent of any benefit he has 
 himself received and retains, in fraud he is bound to 
 indemnify the injured party, benefit or no benefit, and 
 fuUv. 
 
 FEAR 
 
 Fear may be so great as to destrojr reason altogether ; 
 in that case contracts entered into under fear are null 
 and void. On the other hand, light or frivolous fear 
 is not taken account of in regard to contracts. But f a 
 question of great importance arises in connection with 
 the effect on contract of grave fear. Fear does not bar 
 consent, and, therefore, as such it has no effect on con- 
 
 * Provided, of course, that the contract is of its nature voidable. 
 Christian marriage, e.g. is not a voidable contract. 
 
 The civil law in England has now adopted the above most equitable 
 principle of natural law. Before the passing of the Judicature Act, 
 contracts of the kind described in our text were voidable only in case 
 of fraud. Since the passing of this Act even innocent misrepresenta- 
 tion is sufficient to render a contract voidable in the civil courts. 
 
 t It is said by many writers that in the case of gratuitous contracts 
 where all the utility is on one side, e.g. promise and gift, light fear 
 renders the contract voidable, i.e. sets up in the party who inspires 
 the fear an obligation to rescind the contract. If any such effect 
 arises in natural law it is because common sense and our sense of pro- 
 portion would seem to require that, where all the utility is on one 
 side, the other party has at least a right of freedom even from light 
 fear. 
 
 VOL. II — 20 
 
3o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 tract in natural law. It does not invalidate the con- 
 tract. The way fear operates is that it compels a man 
 to consent in violation of his rights ; consequently the 
 person who inspires unjust fear is bound not only to 
 remove the fear but to restore the other party to his 
 full rights, and to make good the damage, if any. This 
 is the reason why fear which does not proceed from a 
 free agent has no effect whatsoever on contract, or why 
 just fear has no effect. In neither case is any one placed 
 under an obligation of reparation. 
 
 Again, there is a difference between fear inspired by 
 a third person and fear inspired by one of the parties 
 to the contract. If the fear which is inspired proceeds 
 from a third party, i.e. one who is not a party to the 
 contract, and is unjust, its effect in natural law is to 
 set up a claim in the injured party against the wrong- 
 doer, but the contract stands. Where, however, unjust 
 fear is inspired by one of the parties to the contract, its 
 effect is that the wrong-doer is bound to remove the 
 fear, to restore to the other party his original right to 
 dissent, and, therefore, if the other party is willing, to 
 rescind the contract, and finally to repair any foreseen 
 injury that is sustained. This is the effect of grave 
 fear on contract, and this is its effect whether the fear 
 which is inspired by one of the parties is inspired in 
 order to induce the contract or for some other reason. 
 The only difference in these two cases is that the injury 
 foreseen in the former case will probably be much 
 greater, and, therefore, the obligation of reparation 
 will be greater. 
 
 (B). The Object of Contract 
 
 The object of contract, or the thing which one con- 
 tracts to do, must fulfil the following conditions : (a) it 
 must be possible, physically and morally ; (6) it must be 
 something existent in re or in spe, else it might be com- 
 pared to the impossible ; (c) something pretio aestima 
 
ON CONTRACTS 307 
 
 hile,* a thing or a utility or a service of economic or 
 marketable value, so to speak ; only such things are 
 capable of giving rise to an obligation in commutative 
 justice, and such obligation is of the essence of the 
 contract. The mere promise to accompany somebody 
 on a walk would not constitute the contract of promise 
 properly so called ; [d) something which the contracting 
 party has power to dispose of ; f {e) something definite 
 — a purely indeterminate contract is no contract ; (/) and 
 finally, something which is not morally evil and for- 
 bidden. 
 
 This last condition gives rise to certain problems and 
 discussions, one of which it will be necessary to consider 
 here, however briefly. 
 
 Contract to do evil. 
 
 A contract to do evil is null and void from its very 
 nature. For wherever there is a true and valid con- 
 tract, there arises an obligation to do something. Now 
 there can be no obligation to do the thing which is evil, 
 on the contrary, the obligation is to avoid it, and, 
 therefore, the contract to do evil is null and void. 
 
 * This is not quite the same thing as " consideration " — a con- 
 dition which is required for validity in (English) civil law but is not 
 required in natural law. Let us exemplify the difference in the case 
 of "promise." If I promise a horse to a friend and my promise is 
 accepted, that promise is a valid contract in natural law. But before 
 such contract would be sustained in English law, and before any 
 action at law could become possible on account of its non-fulfilment 
 another condition should be present, the condition, viz. of " con- 
 sideration," i.e. some benefit to the person making the promise, or 
 some loss, trouble, inconvenience to, or charge imposed upon the 
 promisee (by virtue of the non-fulfilment of the promise) should be 
 proved. 
 
 That " consideration " is not quite the same thing as the necessity 
 of value in the object of the contract is also clear from the fact that 
 whereas the latter is a condition of all contracts, " consideration " 
 even in civil law is not a necessary condition of contracts under seal, 
 but of simple contracts only. 
 
 t His possession of the object may be either present or prospective. 
 English law permits the selling of shares, goods, etc., which one does 
 not actually own, on the chance of being able to deliver, Roman 
 law would not recognise such qontracts. 
 
3o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 But the problem arises — supposing that in spite of 
 the evil nature of the object the contract is fulfilled by 
 one side, is the other party bound to fulfil his part of 
 the contract ? A promises to give B a sum of money if 
 he kills C. B kills C. Is A bound to pay ? At first 
 sight it would seem as if discussion was impossible on 
 such a problem. How, it will be asked, could such an 
 obligation arise, since the contract was null and void 
 from the beginning ? A little consideration, however, 
 will show that A in the case is really under obligation 
 (we speak of the law of nature only — ^positive law might 
 invalidate the contract wholly) to pay B the stipulated 
 sum. An offer can be accepted in either of two ways — 
 either by a promise or by an act. If B accepts A's 
 offer by a promise tb kill C, then, since this promise is a 
 promise to do evil, it is invalid, and so the contract is 
 null and void. But if B accepts A's offer by an act, i.e. 
 by killing C, then since this act, though illicit, is valid, 
 the act of killing being a complete act and, therefore, as 
 valid as an act can be, it completes the contract, and 
 consequently A is bound to keep his promise. The 
 reader may ask — was not A's promise also invalid since 
 it concerned an evil thing ? Unfortunately, however, 
 A's promise was not invalid. A is complete master of 
 his own money * and can validly dispossess himself of 
 it on any condition, good or bad, or without any con- 
 dition at all. 
 
 Since, therefore. A's offer is valid, and since we are^ 
 to suppose it as lasting up to the killing of C, and since 
 this latter act constitutes a valid acceptance, the con- 
 tract is to be regarded as complete, and, therefore, 
 A's obligation stands in natural law.f 
 
 ' Obviously if A offered to kill D on condition that B killed C, 
 such an offer would be wholly invalid and could never become part of 
 a valid contract. 
 
 t Other solutions of this problem have also been attempted ; we 
 believe, however, that that given in the text is the simplest and most 
 convincing of all. 
 
 We may be allowed to point out here that the object of a contract 
 may be forbidden not only by natural but also by positive law, in- 
 
ON CONTRACTS 309 
 
 (C) The Contracting Parties 
 
 By natural law the contracting parties should have 
 the full use of reason at least at the time the contract 
 is made. Infants and lunatics cannot make a valid 
 contract. 
 
 Others are debarred by positive law from the right to 
 make a valid contract, not in all, but in certain matters ; 
 for instance, minors, wives, aliens. Wives, e.g. except 
 in the case of their own property, are debarred from 
 making contracts in a number of important matters 
 where the consent of the husband cannot be legitimately 
 presumed. In regard, however, to ordinary household 
 matters it is presumed that a wife's contracts are made 
 on the responsibility of her husband ; and, therefore, 
 unless the husband has actually forbidden her to pledge 
 his credit, such contracts hold good at law. The con- 
 tractual capacity or incapacity of any special class of 
 people depends on the disposition of the civil law in 
 each country. 
 
 The Different Kinds of Contract 
 
 (i) Distinguished according to the end immediately 
 aimed at, contracts are divided into gratuitous and 
 onerous, according as the contract aims at conferring 
 a utility on one side only or on the two. " Promise " 
 is a gratuitous contract ; " buying and selling " is 
 onerous. 
 
 (2) Distinguished according to their effects, contracts 
 are either unilateral or bilateral, according as they give 
 rise to an obligation in justice in one of the parties only 
 
 eluding, of course. State law, and in either case the contract to do 
 such forbidden act is null and void. The State has a full right to make 
 any object illegal and unsuitable for contract, provided, of course, 
 that it does not violate ordinary justice in so doing. We wish, however, 
 to point out that the State often discountenances contracts without 
 actually making them illegal. It even voids some contracts which 
 yet are not illegal. For the difference in the civil effects of voiding 
 a contract and making it illegal see Anson, " Law of Contract," p. 252. 
 
310 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 or in both. Thus " sale " or " buying and selling " is 
 a bilateral contract. Promise is unilateral. 
 
 (3) Distinguished according to the law by which they 
 bind, they are divided into contracts of natural and 
 contracts of civil obligation. 
 
 {4) Distinguished according to the form of the con- 
 tract, they are divided into the following four classes : — 
 
 {a) consensual and real, according as they are com- 
 pleted by the mere consent of the parties or require 
 something to be done, e.g. something to change hands 
 before the contract is complete. Thus promise is a 
 consensual cjpntract, loan, a real contract. What con- 
 tracts are consensual and what real depends largely 
 upon positive law. The natural law for instance does 
 not decide whether " buying and selling " is complete 
 before or only after the goods have passed. 
 
 (&) simple and solemn ; simple contracts are those 
 that subsist by reason simply of the agreement, and are 
 in no need of special forms or solemnities of any kind. 
 Solemn contracts are those that require special formalities 
 over and above the agreement of the parties.* 
 
 (c) express and tacit or explicit and implicit, according 
 as the parties signify their consent formally in words or 
 writing, or simply take upon themselves some office 
 
 * In the civil law solemn contracts include " contracts of record" 
 (i.e. obligations proceeding from some Court of Record, such as a 
 recognizance, that is, an acknowledgment of a former debt made 
 before a judge or other authorised officer, and enrolled in a Court of 
 Record) and "specialities" or "contracts under seal" or "deeds.' 
 Not only are " deeds " signed but they are characterised by the fact 
 that they are also " sealed." " Contracts under seal " are spoken of 
 as formal contracts par excellence, not so much on account of their 
 solemnity, as from the fact that they bind by their mere form. The 
 expression is technical. It means that whereas a simple contract 
 binds in civil law only where there is " consideration " of some kind 
 (for instance, in the case of promise, where the promisee in respect of 
 the promise does or loses or suffers something or promises to do so) 
 a " contract under seal " binds by its mere form and without the 
 presence of " consideration." Needless to say, such highly technical 
 matters can be dealt with by us only in the most general way. Our 
 business is with the natural not with positive or civil law. Very simple 
 and intelligible accounts of these things can be seen either in Anson's 
 " Law of Contract " or in Indermaur's " Principles of the Common 
 Law." 
 
ON CONTRACTS 311 
 
 carrying with it the undertaking that something shall 
 be done ; , 
 
 {d) absolute and conditional. These terms explain 
 themselves, but some explanation must be offered of the 
 efficacy of conditions as attached to contracts. A con- 
 dition concerning the present or the past, exercises no 
 suspensory effect upon the contract. If the condition 
 is fulfilled, the contract is valid from the beginning ; if 
 it is not, the contract is invalid. Conditions concerning 
 the uncertain future suspend the contract.* Con- 
 ditions regarding what is certain in the future do not 
 affect the substance of the contract itself ; indeed, they 
 can hardly be spoken of as conditions at all. Their 
 sole efficacy is to defer the fulfilling of the contract, not 
 the contract itself, to a particular day. They amount 
 to an agreement that the effects of the contract will 
 begin on that day. 
 
 All this, however, supposes that the- conditions at- 
 tached to contracts are possible {i.e. that the act is 
 possible) f and allowed by moral law. Any contract 
 made under a condition which is either impossible or 
 evil is null and void in natural law and conscience, pro- 
 vided, that is, that the attached condition is really a 
 condition and not the mere expression of some ad- 
 ditional obligation undertaken with the contract. J 
 
 The civil law makes certain special provisions with 
 regard to conditions attached to contracts, which 
 provisions cannot be examined here. Some contracts, 
 like marriage, it will not allow to be hampered by 
 immoral conditions in the sense that whether such 
 
 * We speak here of conditions proper, e.g. the purchase of a horse 
 if it passes the veterinary surgeon. What are known in English law 
 as resolutory conditions, e.g. a purchase liable to become null after a 
 week's trial, are conditions of the permanence of a contract rather 
 than of its validity. In these cases the contract stands until it is 
 declared null. 
 
 t Possibility on the side of the ^arty is not looked to if the act is 
 possible, e.g. if a man has no money to buy material ; that is no excuse. 
 
 { Such additional obligation put in the form of a condition is spoken 
 of as a " mode " of the contract. 
 
312 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 conditions are affixed to the contract or not, the con- 
 tract will be upheld at law just as if the conditions 
 had not been made* 
 
 (5) Distinguished * according as they have a special 
 character entitling them to a special name, or are general 
 in character on account of which they are not called by 
 a special name, contracts are divided into nominate and 
 innominate. Those contracts which are mentioned and 
 described in the list given in the following chapter are 
 nominate. The innominate contracts are all included 
 under the four general titles — do ut des, do ut facias, 
 facio ut des, facio ut facias. 
 
 * This distinction is Roman, not English. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 SOME PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 
 
 We now proceed to give a brief exposition of some of 
 the naore important kinds of contract. 
 
 Promise 
 
 Promise is a contract by which a man imposes on 
 himself an obligation in justice of doing or omitting 
 something, gratuitously, and in favour of another person. 
 
 If promise is to be a valid contract certain conditions 
 have to be fulfilled : (i) the promiser should intend to 
 assume a genuine obligation in justice of fulfilling his 
 promise ; * (2) the promise should be accepted, and 
 both offer and acceptance should be manifested ; (3) it 
 should be entirely free. Like other contracts, promise 
 can be invalidated either by error or by fear. 
 
 Promise falls through, first, if it is condoned by the 
 other party ; secondly, if things alter so that its fulfil- 
 ment becomes impossible or something quite different 
 from what was originally intended ; thirdly, if con- 
 ditions are attached and these are not fulfilled ; fourthly, 
 if through change of circumstances the fulfilment of the 
 promise would become a breach of law. 
 
 What if either party dies before the promise is executed 
 but after the contract is made ? We must distinguish 
 two cases. If the promisee predeceases the execiition 
 of the promise, it lapses if what was promised was meant 
 to be personal to him only ; if it was meant in the 
 
 * In many cases all that the promiser does is to express his inten- 
 tion of doing something. 
 
 313 
 
314 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 interest of him and his family the obligation remains. 
 If, however, it is the promiser who dies, then, if what 
 was promised was something which only the promiser 
 could accomplish, the promise lapses ; otherwise the 
 obligation passes to his heirs. It should be remembered, 
 however, that the right which promise sets up in the 
 promisee is a jus ad rem only, not a jus in re, and, 
 therefore in the case last considered, it would not be 
 right for the promisee violently or clandestinely to seize 
 on the thing promised. 
 
 Gift 
 
 Gift is a gratuitous transferring of ownership to 
 another. It is made up of • three elements, first, the 
 external act of giving ; second, the intention to confer 
 ownership ; third, acceptance on the side of the donee. 
 
 The conditions naturally necessary for validity are, 
 freedom both in giver and receiver, the right to give 
 on the part of the giver, the right to receive on the part 
 of the donee, and finally the fulfilment of such conditions 
 as are required by the civil law for valid transfer. 
 
 The various stages representing the order in which 
 ownership passes from one person to another in " gift " 
 are as follows : ownership of the donor, act of giving 
 on the part of the donor, acquisition of ownership by 
 the donee, loss of ownership in the donor. These two 
 last stages occur at the same moment of time so that 
 there are never two simultaneous owners ; but the 
 third stages precedes the fourth in the logical . order, 
 i.e. the order of dependence. The first effect of the act 
 of giving is the setting up of ownership in the doiiee, 
 because that, and not the loss of ownership in himself, 
 is the primary purpose of the donor. But since two 
 persons cannot be full owners at one and the same time 
 there follows, as a necessary consequence of the setting 
 up of full ownership in the donee, loss of the same in 
 the donor. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 315 
 
 " Buying and Selling " 
 
 The contract of " buying and selling " is a bilateral 
 onerous contract whereby two persons agree to inter- 
 change an article or commodity for a certain price. 
 
 In all ordinary cases this contract is effected by 
 ordinary external agreement between the parties, that 
 is, by the inner consent of each, and expression of that 
 consent by each to the other. But in some cases the 
 civil law requires certain additional solemnities, and 
 these solemnities may be necessary even for the validity 
 of the contract. 
 
 The consent once given, each party acquires a right 
 (jus ad rem) to the fulfilment of the contract ; but the 
 actual moment at which ownership (jus in re) passes 
 from one to the other depends largely upon the -pro- 
 visions of the civil law. 
 
 Obligations of the seller. 
 
 (i) In natural law the object should belong to the 
 seller. Speaking generally, a stolen object could not be 
 validly sold whilst the real owner is alive. But the 
 civil law is empowered to make its own special pro- 
 visions in regard to propert}^ and it has introduced 
 modifications in respect even of this requirement of 
 natural law. Thus, with certain exceptions, a man 
 purchasing goods in open market in good faith acquires 
 in England a good right even from a thief. 
 
 (2) The seller should deliver the article that is bought, 
 or at least an article morally identical with it. 
 
 (3) The civil law sometimes imposes obligations on a 
 seller in regard to the revealing of defects in the article 
 sold. In natural justice, however, a seller's obligations 
 in this respect are very limited. A seller is bound in 
 justice, in the first place, not to charge too high a price. 
 He must fully allow, therefore, in his charges for all 
 defects. Secondly, he is bound to see that the contract 
 under which he takes another's money is a valid 
 one, and so he must see to it that no invalidating 
 
3i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 mistake* creeps in. But he is not in natural justice 
 bound to go further, and he is not bound to assist the 
 buyer to make a good bargain. 
 
 The just price. 
 
 The price of a thing is its value expressed in terms of 
 money. The just price wiU be the true money value 
 of the thing. Now value is the capacity possessed by 
 goods to satisfy human needs or desires. In exchange 
 this value is determined by the competing needs of 
 buyer and seller. What this means can be most easily 
 understood from the method of exchange called barter. 
 In barter a certain amount of one commodity, say wine, 
 is given for a certain quantity of another commodity, 
 e.g. wheat, because it is supposed that the needs satis- 
 fied on one side and the other are equal. Now it is 
 only amongst very simple and undeveloped peoples that 
 barter is used as the general system of exchange. The 
 inconveniences attaching to it are many and so obvious 
 that they do not need to be enumerated here. In all 
 developed countries there is adopted a special medium 
 of exchange called money which is used to purchase 
 articles and which can afterwards be given in exchange 
 for other classes of commodity whenever it is convenient 
 to the holder of money to do so. But the two kinds of 
 exchange, barter and money-purchases, are not funda- 
 mentally different, and the principle governing the 
 determination of true value is the same in both cases. 
 The just price of an article will be that price which is 
 capable of purchasing other commodities possessed of 
 the same capacity for satisfying needs that is possessed 
 by the original article sold. 
 
 From all this it is evident that the just natural price 
 of any commodity will be the market price, and that 
 market price should ordinarily be regarded as knocking 
 out all others. For, first, it would be very difficult to 
 
 * These invalidating mistakes have already been enumerated, p. 302. 
 We should add that in justice he is bound to see that there is nothing 
 in the object sold dangerous to the buyer. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 317 
 
 determine price by a direct examination of needs in 
 particular cases. The needs of individuals tire variable, 
 and besides they are very difficult to analyse and estimate. 
 Secondly, even an indirect estimate of needs based on 
 what people are willing to pay or accept for commodities 
 is unreliable. A starving man will give a hundred pounds 
 for a loaf of bread. Yet who will maintain that there is 
 equality in the exchange. A hundred pounds wiU pur- 
 chase not one but a thousand loaves and therefore is 
 capable of satisfying a thousand times the amount of 
 needs which in the contract mentioned it is regarded as 
 satisfying. In the public market, on the other hand, 
 where buyers and sellers freely compete with one 
 another, the price given and accepted may generally be 
 regarded as expressing a true equation of human needs 
 and utilities. 
 
 We must admit, however, that sometimes the public 
 markets are not free, either because necessary com- 
 modities have become very rare or because of combina- 
 tions amongst sellers to keep up prices or for some other 
 reason. It often in such cases, and in any kind of 
 cases appertaining to the general interest, becomes the 
 duty of the government to regulate the price of com- 
 modities, which price is then spoken of as the legal price. 
 In all such cases what the government should aim at 
 is, by a previous consideration of the cost of production 
 and the value of money in terms of what it can purchase, 
 to equate as nearly as possible the needs and utilities 
 on either side. Once fixed by the government this legal 
 price is then to be regarded as binding on the parties, 
 except indeed in certain very special circumstances, for 
 instance, where the order of the goverimient is universally 
 disregarded, where it is manifestly unjust, or where the 
 commodity turns out to be of far greater or far less value 
 than that contemplated by the government. 
 
 Returning now to the question of the natural just 
 price there should be no difficulty from what has been 
 said in determining its measure or standard. It can be 
 
3i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 nothing else than the common estimate of the buying 
 and selling community. For our present purpose it 
 matters not at all how this public estimate comes to 
 be formed. It depends on a great variety of causes — 
 supply, cost of production, risk, the scarcity or plenti- 
 fulness of money, the varying desires and fashions of 
 buyers, and the demand in which these desires eventuate. 
 All these and other innumerable elements combine to 
 produce a particular value-resultant in things, which 
 value-resultant expresses itself in the average price paid, 
 i.e. in the market price of the article. But whatever be 
 the factors that combine to determine the value-estimate 
 which the public sets upon an article, our present point 
 is that this common value-estimate is the test of the 
 objective value of anything and of the just price. 
 
 Two considerations suggest themselves in connection 
 with the public estimate as the standard and measure 
 of price : {a) first, that the public by whose estimate 
 the prices of things are determined is a very varying 
 public, i.e. it varies in extent ; (&) secondly, that the 
 price determined by their estimate is for the most part 
 extremely elastic, {a) Where things are of wide and 
 common use the opinion of the public at large will de- 
 termine the price. The price of rare articles will be 
 determined by the narrower community that deals in such 
 articles. In the case of very precious things the com- 
 munity by which price is judged may narrow itself 
 down to that of a single buyer and seller, whose agreed 
 price, whatever it may be, will be the measure of value, 
 and will be just.* The community, whatever may be 
 its dimensions, by which price is determined does not, 
 of course, meet and declare before sale takes place what 
 the price is to be. To a large extent prices and the 
 common estimate are determined automatically by the 
 conditions of the market. They are the prices at which 
 
 * This may easily occur in regard to the sale of things that do 
 not come into the open market, e.g. precious stones, rare manuscripts ; 
 or in regard to things that have been withdrawn from the open market, 
 like old clothes. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 319 
 
 things actually sell. But these prices will always reflect 
 in a rough and ready manner the judgment of the 
 buying public and the true inner value of the com- 
 modity. 
 
 ' (b) We have said that the limits of market prices are 
 to some extent elastic. They are elastic because the 
 conditions of the market are variable, and because the 
 wants of the judging public alter. Still, limits do finally 
 come to be assigned within which the just price is sup- 
 posed to reside. There will be a maximum and a mini- 
 mum price, and between these extremes there will be 
 an average or normal price, and in general, justice will 
 be satisfied with any price that falls between the higher 
 and the lower limit. Except for certain extrinsic reasons 
 a seller could not legitimately demand a price beyond 
 the highest limit, and it would be wrong for a buyer to 
 play upon a seller's needs by offering him less than the 
 lowest customary price. These extrinsic reasons just 
 referred to, which, however, become operative only in 
 exceptional circumstances, are chiefly 1.wo — the possi- 
 bility of loss to buyer or seller, and the prospect of 
 payment being long deferred. 
 
 The question arises, may a seller exceed the range of 
 the market prices on account of some purely subjective 
 or personal value which an article possesses for himself 
 (for instance, the associations which it recalls), or on ac- 
 count of the special value which the possession of a par- 
 ticular article will bring to a particular buyer, a value 
 which it has not for other people ? On both questions 
 the opinions of moralists are divided, but we have no 
 difficulty in accepting the solution given by St. Thomas 
 Aquinas. A seller, he maintains, must not exact a 
 special charge for the special pleasure which an article 
 affords to the buyer, or the special value it possesses 
 for the buyer, and which it does not possess in itself 
 or for other people. On the other hand, it is open to 
 him to make a special charge for the special value which 
 the article has for himself. What now is the reason of 
 
320 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 this difference in the rights of the seller ? It is the 
 following : a seller has a right in fixing the price of the 
 article to take account of what he himself suffers through 
 the loss of the article, and also of the benefit which 
 through means ■ of the article he himself confers on the 
 buyer. Now on the first account, a seller can make 
 a charge for the special value an article has for himself. 
 Not so with the special value it has for the buyer. For, 
 on the one hand, this special value does not increase the 
 loss sustained by the seller, and, on the other hand, the 
 special pleasure experienced by the buyer is not con- 
 ferred by the seller, it is not caused by the article which 
 is sold, i.e. by the inherent capacity of the article for 
 satisfying human wants — if it were it would be ex- 
 perienced by all receiving the article. It is caused by 
 and arises exclusively out of, the condition of the buyer 
 (utilitas quae alteri accrescit non est ex vendente sed ex 
 conditione ementis *) . And, therefore, in making a 
 special charge for the pleasure experienced by the buyer, 
 a seller would be selling that which does not belong to, 
 and is not conferred by, himself [nullus autem debet 
 vender e alteri quod non est suum). He cannot, there- 
 fore, charge for the special value which an article has 
 for any particular buyer. 
 
 ON AUCTION SALES 
 
 Auction is a sale in which articles are offered for 
 purchase to many buyers in competition, the condition 
 of the sale being that the highest bidder becomes the 
 purchaser. 
 
 The auction price of an article is not the same- as the 
 ordinary buying and selling price, which latter price 
 really represents the value of the article. The auction 
 price may fall far below the infimum fretium or rise far 
 beyond the summum. The just auction price is deter- 
 mined by the highest bid, whatever that bid may be. 
 
 * " S. Theol." II. II., LXXVII. i. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 3^1 
 
 In all justice there is an element of equality. In the 
 ordinary contract of " buying and selling," 1;his element 
 of equality is provided in the equality of the price paid 
 with the intrinsic value of the article. In the case of 
 auction sales the element of equality is supplied in the 
 equal chances afforded to seller and buyer, of profit or 
 of loss. On the side of each bidder there is the chance 
 of his succeeding in knocking out all other bidders. 
 In favour of the seller there is the equal chance of each 
 bidder being knocked out by the rest. 
 
 Obligations of the seller, i.e. the owner. 
 
 Persons attending an auction sale are supposed to 
 have their eyes open and to understand the tacit con- 
 ventions belonging to such sales. These conventions 
 are many, and it is consequently very difficult to say 
 what is allowed and disallowed in an auction sale by 
 natural law. Where a particular condition is known to, 
 and accepted by, both parties to a contract no injustice 
 is done to either party. 
 
 Still there are certain rules that would seem to hold 
 good in natural law granted the absence of all conventions 
 to the contrary. 
 
 (i) The article sold should go to the highest bidder. 
 A reserve price may, of course, be put on the article, 
 but, allowing for this, the highest bidder should become 
 the owner. 
 
 (2) It would seem to be opposed to the nature of this 
 contract, if we consider natural law alone, for the seller, 
 i.e. the awner, to bid either directly or indirectly ; for 
 the same individual cannot be both seller and buyer, 
 and the express understanding is that the highest bidder 
 is to be the successful purchaser. But, there is one 
 exception which is hardly an exception, the case, viz. 
 of compulsory sale. In this case it is hardly right to 
 speak of the owner as a seller, rather his goods are being 
 sold against his will, and it certainly is open to any 
 
 VOL. II — 21 
 
322 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 owner to try to keep by purchase an article jvhich he 
 does not wish to sell. However, even in the case of a 
 voluntary sale, custom would seem to allow of the 
 seller * buying back the things put up for auction and, 
 as we said, the laws of auction are largely modified by 
 these customs. 
 
 (3) But it seems to us that there can be no doubt 
 about the question whether it is lawful for the auctioneer 
 or seller to make use of fictitious bidders, for purposes of 
 sending up the prices. Such bidders will not be re- 
 quired to keep the article should their bid prove to be 
 the highest ; neither do they aim at securing the article 
 for another, but only at putting up prices ; and, there- 
 fore,- they are not legitimate bidders ; but the under- 
 standing is, as we have already said, that the sale is 
 amongst bidders only, and that the highest legitimate 
 bidder becomes the owner. 
 
 Obligations of bidders. 
 
 Bidders also are subject to certain obligations. They 
 may not do anything to hinder freedom of competition 
 by forcibly f or fraudulently preventing others from 
 bidding. An auction market is essentially an open and 
 a free market. If the auction is not open to aU and 
 free, there is no equality between the seller's chances 
 and those of the buyer, the seller being in every case 
 at an obvious disadvantage. 
 
 The question, however, arises — when does the auction 
 market cease to be free and open, and when, therefore, 
 is injustice done to the seller ? We must distinguish 
 different cases. 
 
 * Either personally or through representatives. There is a great 
 difference between these representatives and what in the next para- 
 graph is spoken of as the " fictitious bidder." The representative 
 of the owner, if allowed to bid, is supposed to aim genuinely at securing 
 the article for the owner. Fictitious bidders are appointed merely 
 to put up prices. 
 
 t It is all the same whether the force used is physical or mo al. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 323 
 
 (i) Merely to ask a buyer not to bid doe^not constitute 
 an injustice to the owner. For the owner or seller has 
 no right to the presence or the bid of any particular 
 person but only that it be open to each one to bid if he 
 likes. Moreover what a seller counts upon in putting 
 up goods for auction, what gives him his hold over the 
 buying public, and his equal chance of profit with the 
 bidders, is to be found in the need of buyers, and in 
 the fact that he who fails to be the highest bidder loses 
 by his failure — loses, that is, by not obtaining the 
 article of which he is in need. In the present case the 
 man who waives, in favour of a friend, his right to bid, 
 is still a needer and a loser, and thus the seller's hold 
 upon and equality with the public is not diminished in 
 the least. They that prefer friendship (the owner may 
 console himself with the thought) to the chance of an 
 easy bargain must suffer for their ill-judged preference. 
 
 (2) What, however, if bidders, instead of merely waiv- 
 ing their chances of a good bargain, agree and conspire 
 together not to bid, for the sake of keeping down the 
 prices, or not to bid beyond a certain price ? 
 
 This problem is answered differently by different 
 writers. Our own view is as follows : (a) as long as 
 the market is still open and free, as long as it is not con- 
 trolled or constituted by those who conspire to stand 
 aside, the requirements of justice are substantially 
 fulfilled. If two out of forty people conspire that each 
 in turn should stand aside so as to increase the other's 
 chances of an easy purchase, then since the market is 
 still open, and the bids may reach any level, and since 
 in addition, the person who agrees to stand aside is so 
 far. a loser just as in the case last considered, it would 
 seem that the essentials of the auction contract are 
 substantially fulfilled. 
 
 (6) What, however, if those who conspire to keep down 
 prices control or nearly control the market ? What 
 if, practically speaking, there are only a few possible 
 buyers, the article to be sold being one of great price ? 
 
324 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 May these lawfully conspire that one only should bid, 
 or that the other bidders should not go beyond a certain 
 amount ? Again we have to make the important 
 distinction already explained. If in this small market 
 four out of the five bidders agree freely and unselfishly 
 to waive their right out of friendship for the fifth, and 
 thus relinquish, with, of course, nothing but loss and 
 suffering to themselves, their chance of a bargain most 
 earnestly desired by each, we cannot see that they have 
 done anything more than use their right to bid or not 
 to bid — a right which is possessed by any member of 
 the buying public. Here again those elements of equality 
 which constitute the justice of the auction contract 
 are preserved — the equal chances of profit and of loss 
 on either side. The seller loses, but the possible buyers 
 lose also * by not obtaining the article or any equivalent. 
 Quite different, however, is the case in which buyers 
 who control the market agree to stand out and to keep 
 down the price with advantage to themselves, the 
 compact being either that the present winner will stand 
 aside another time in their favour, or that a private 
 re-auctioning of the article will take place amongst 
 the members of the ring, or that the spoils will be divided 
 if the article should be re-sold. In this case a grave 
 injustice is done to the seller. For, in the first place, 
 the market is no longer open and free, each party having 
 bound himself and all the rest, the winner also sharing 
 in the compact, by an onerous bilateral contract to 
 abstain from bidding, f But a free market is essential 
 in the auction contract. Secondly, the seller in this case 
 must always be at a disadvantage, the buyers, even 
 those who abstain, must always have the advantage, 
 
 * AH but the winner, who, however, is not the cause of the low 
 price realised. It is those who stand out of the bidding who bring 
 down the price. 
 
 ■f On the other hand where the four members abstained out of 
 friendship for the fifth, they were still quite free to bid, and in 
 particular the winner, by promising and conferring nothing on the 
 others, puts them under no contractual obligation to abstain from 
 bidding. The market, therefore, in this case is fully free. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 325 
 
 a condition of things which is very far removed from 
 that equality of opportunity between b^j^er and seller 
 which is of the very essence of auction sale. Rings, 
 therefore, to keep down auction prices are altogether 
 unlawful where they are large enough to control, or 
 practically to control, the market. 
 
 ON MONOPOLIES 
 
 Monopoly is the exclusive right or exclusive power of 
 one or a few to sell a particular article. 
 
 We distinguish legal monopolies from monopolies of 
 fad. The former possess the exclusive right to sell. 
 This right is bestowed by public authority. To the 
 latter belongs the exclusive ability to seU. They have, 
 in fact, secured complete control of a particular market, 
 though the right still remains with all others to compete 
 if they can. 
 
 Legal monopolies are either public or private, according 
 as the law concedes the monopoly to the State or a part 
 of it on the one hand, or to private persons on the other. 
 
 The following moral principles govern the formation 
 of monopolies : — 
 
 (i) Public legal monopolies are lawful where there is 
 a grave public reason for their formation, e.g. as a source 
 of public revenue.* Such public monopolies may lawfully 
 sell goods at a price somewhat above the summum 
 pretium, any excess being regarded as a tax which the 
 State needs for its support. 
 
 (2) Private legal monopolies are also lawful if they 
 are granted for a just cause, i.e. on the ground of public 
 necessity. Thus, patented inventions are legal 
 monopolies. Without them there would be no sufficient 
 incentive to invention. So, also, firms are sometimes 
 granted monopolies (generally for a definite time) in 
 connection with certain expensive and risky enterprises 
 of public importance, which would not be undertaken 
 
 * See p. 227. 
 
326 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 without the guarantee of success which a monopol}^ 
 affords. Such firms, however, have no right to sell 
 above the summum fretium. 
 
 (3) Monopolies of fact are also lawful. It is lawful 
 for one firm to undersell others even where there is risk 
 of those others having to go under and disappear. It 
 is even lawful to undersell them so that they may dis- 
 appear * and that a monopoly may be established, 
 provided that it is not the intention of the prospective 
 monopolist to sell later above the level of the summum 
 fretium. In underselling others one only uses his right, 
 and the same holds true where one undersells to establish 
 a monopoly. 
 
 Such is the position of affairs in justice in its strictest 
 sense. A man may undersell others and a man may 
 charge the summum fretium. But charity has its 
 obligations as well as justice, and the former are far 
 more stringent and far-reaching than the latter. Under- 
 selling with the object of ousting others from a particular 
 trade is forbidden in some cases by charity, viz. where 
 nothing but misery awaits the defeated competitors. 
 And charging the summum fretium is also sometimes 
 forbidden, in the case, namely, of necessary things like 
 food and clothing which the public is prevented from 
 purchasing, or can only purchase in insufficient quan- 
 tities, as long as the higher charges are imposed. 
 
 Contracts of Chance f 
 
 These are of various kinds : (a) insurance, by which a 
 person secures himself against risk, such as the risk of 
 fire, by payment of a stipulated amount to another 
 
 * Provided it is not done from any uncharitable motive. 
 
 t The contract of bailment ought naturally to be considered 
 before those of chance. We plead as our reason for treating of the 
 latter here the length of our discussion on bailments in general and 
 the two special contracts of bailment, money-lending and the wages 
 contract, with the cognate problem of strikes. At the close of such 
 a long discussion the reader would almost have forgotten that there 
 were still special contracts to be considered. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 327 
 
 person who undertakes to bear the risk ; (b) betting, a 
 contract by which two or more persons lay wagers with 
 regard to the truth or actuaUty of an uncertain event, * 
 the wager to go to the person who hits upon the truth 
 or on the result that eventually occurs ; (c) lottery, a 
 contract in which on pa5nnent of a certain sum a man 
 is given a right to receive a sum of money or some 
 object of value on the chance occurrence of some event, 
 (d) gaming, a contract by which a number of people 
 agree to pay a certain sum to the winner of the game. 
 In some cases a man wins by his own efforts and skill, 
 as in cricket or football ; in some cases the game is 
 wholly one of chance as in some card games ; in other 
 cases the game is mixed as in the card game of Bridge, 
 where the cards are distributed by chance but the 
 successful playing of them is a matter of skill. 
 ■ Gaming is lawful if certain conditions are fulfilled, 
 e.g. provided that a man wagers only what belongs to 
 himself, that cheating is excluded, that the game is 
 neither illicit in itself nor prohibited by law, that playing 
 is free on the part of all, and that the stakes are not so 
 high that one's family or creditors must suffer in case 
 of loss. It is claimed by some that the chances should be 
 fairly equal all round, so that if one was an exceedingly 
 bad player and the others were experts, the game would 
 be unlawful. We cannot, however, accept this judg- 
 ment. Superior skill, no matter how great, does not 
 make one's play unjust. The opponents know the game 
 and they cannot count on anyone being an inferior 
 player. But, as we have already said, a bad player (and 
 even a good player) should not be constrained against 
 his will to play.f 
 
 * Where one party is certain, the bet is invalid, unless he makes it 
 clear to the other person that he is certain. In that case the winner 
 receives the wager not as a bet, but as a free gift. 
 
 t Through want of space we are compelled to omit all mention 
 of what are known as the subsidiary contracts, those, viz. which are 
 dependent on and tributary to the others, e.g. pawn, by v\rhich some- 
 thing is given in pledge for something borrowed. 
 
328 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Bailments 
 
 Bailments are certain contracts by which goods are 
 placed in the hands of one who is not their owner, for 
 a special purpose. These purposes are chiefly three — 
 to be kept, to be worked up or carried, to be used. In 
 the first two classes of contract the goods are left with 
 another in the interest of the owner ; in the third they 
 are left in the interest of the person receiving the goods. 
 Examples are — of goods to be kept, deposit of goods ; 
 of goods to be worked up, things left to be mended or 
 cleaned ; of goods to be used, the lending of a machine. 
 
 In none of these cases is ownership of what is placed 
 in the hands of another surrendered. In all it is supposed 
 that what is given over at the present instant remains 
 the property of the original holder. 
 
 Of the various contracts included under " bailment " 
 there are only two (both belonging to the third class of 
 bailments) which can be considered at length in the 
 present work, viz. loan and the wages-contract ; and 
 of loan only one species can be considered, viz. the loan 
 of money. These two special contracts we select for 
 special consideration not because they are more im- 
 portant or sacred than the others, but because of the 
 special prominence they have assumed under modern 
 social conditions, and because of the many difficult 
 questions of natural law and right to which they give 
 rise. 
 
 THE LOAN OF MONEY 
 
 Loan may occur in connection with two kinds of 
 things : first, things that are consumed in their use ; 
 second, things that are not. Examples of the former 
 are fruit, bread, wine ; an example of the second is 
 machinery of any kind. In the technical sense, however, 
 a thing is said to be consumed in its use not only if it is 
 pecessarily destroyed by use^ but also if the use of it 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 329 
 
 necessarily entails its being lost to the owner, even 
 though in its use it is not destroyed. • 
 
 Now there is this great difference between the loan of 
 things that are consumed in their use and the loan of a 
 productive thing which is not consumed in its use, like 
 a machine, that the former kind of loan confers no 
 right on the lender other than the right of, recovering 
 the equivalent of the thing lent — it confers no additional 
 right of recovering something for the use of the thing 
 lent ; whilst the latter kind of loan confers not only a 
 right of recovering what is lent but a right to charge 
 something in addition for the use of what is lent. Let 
 us compare the two cases. 
 
 A machine has two simultaneous values for its owner. 
 First, there is the value of its use, the profit that arises 
 from its use. A machine, for instance, produces saleable 
 commodities of various kinds. Then since after use the 
 machine is still available, whole and unimpaired, there is 
 also the value of the machine itself as a substance. 
 For the owner the machine has always these two values, 
 and to fail to take account of either of these in com- 
 puting the total value of the machine to its owner 
 would be to represent the value of the machine as lower 
 than it really is. This doctrine that in productive things 
 like a machine there are two distinct values, making 
 up between them the full economic value of the machine, 
 viz. the value of its use and the value of the machine 
 itself, is briefly expressed by saying that in productive 
 things it is possible to distinguish between the use and the 
 thing itself. Suppose now that the owner instead of 
 using the machine himself lends it to another to be used, 
 it becomes plain that the lender is depriving himself of 
 the two values which we have distinguished, and that 
 the borrower receives these two values. In justice, 
 therefore, he should pay back these two values to the 
 owner ; first, he should return the machine itself, and 
 secondly, he should pay a charge upon its use. 
 
 The rights and obligations arising froni the loan of 
 
330 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 fruits and such things are very different. Fruits, and 
 consumable things generally, have one value only for 
 their owner, viz. the value of their use. Once used their 
 value disappears, for they have themselves perished in 
 their use. Their total value lies in their use. This was 
 their only value for the original owner. This is their 
 only value when lent. This, therefore, is the only value 
 which the borrower should return ; and the question 
 arises — what is the extent of this value ? 
 
 The question what is the value of things that are 
 consumed in their use, may best be answered from an 
 examination of a simple concrete case. What, for 
 instance, is the value attaching to a pound of grapes or 
 a loaf of bread ? The man who eats a pound of grapes 
 has had value to the extent of a pound of grapes. The 
 man who eats a loaf has had value to the extent of a 
 loaf. In general terms the value of anything, the use of 
 which consists in its being consumed, is the value of the 
 thing itself ; it has not, like the machine, two joint 
 values, one arising out of its use, and one the continuing 
 value of the thing itself after use ; it has one value only, 
 equal to the thing which is consumed. This, therefore, 
 is the extent of the borrower's obligation in the case of 
 things frimo usu consumptibilia, viz. to return the 
 equivalent of what has been lent. The lender in the 
 case of loans of this kind (they are known as mutuum) 
 has no right, vi mutui, in addition to demanding the 
 return of the object lent, to impose any other additional 
 charge. He has no right to look for a profit out of his 
 loan. We say vi mutui ; for though the contract of 
 mutuum itself does not entitle an owner to more than 
 the return of the equivalent of what has been lent, an 
 owner may acquire a right to more on other titles. A 
 man, for instance, has a right to compensate himself 
 for any loss sustained by reason of the loan {damnum 
 emergens), for cessation of previous profits {lucrum 
 cessans), for risk or danger run {periculum sortis), and 
 finally he may demand compensation for failure on the 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 331 
 
 part of the borrower to pay within the stipulated time 
 (poena conventionalis) . These, however, are all ex- 
 trinsic titles. They do not arise out of the nature of 
 the contract itself. Granted that no losses are incurred, 
 nor risk run, the loan of a thing frimo usu consumptibile 
 confers no title to special profit or to anything more 
 than the return of the equivalent of what has been 
 lent. Any such profit arising out of and based ex- 
 clusively on the contract itself, and not on some other 
 extrinsic title, is wholly unjustified. 
 
 We now come to the special question of the loan of 
 money. Money* is anything that serves as a medium 
 of exchange. Whether money consists of gold or silver 
 or paper or any other material, its one function as money 
 is to serve as a means for buying and selling. A pur- 
 chases goods from B by means of money. With that 
 money B purchases goods from C. As money this is 
 its one and exclusive function, viz. to be a means of 
 exchange.! Now it is evident that a medium of exchange 
 is something, the use of which is to be given away in 
 exchange [distractio, secundum quod in commutationes 
 exfendituv), % to be given for something received ; it is, 
 therefore, something which is necessarily lost to the owner 
 in its use, something which an owner cannot use and at 
 the same time keep, like machines and other productive 
 things ; it is, therefore, something which is consumed 
 in its use in the technical sense of this term.§ And since 
 
 * " Money is the medium of exchange. Whatever performs this 
 function, does this work, is money. . . There is no other test of 
 money than this."^ — Walker, " Political Economy," p. 123. 
 
 t Writers add that money is also a measure of value. The addition 
 has no bearing on our present discussion. 
 
 { " S. Theol." II. II., Q. LXXVII. Art. I. It should be remembered 
 that usury was condemned not only by the mediaeval philosophers, 
 but by those of ancient Greece as well. See Grote, " History of 
 Greece," Vol. II. 20. 
 
 § With his usual bold consistency St. Thomas explains that if 
 money were used for any other purpose than as a medium of exchange, 
 any other purpose that would allow of its remaining in the hands of 
 the user even after use, a charge could be made upon its loan. Thus 
 if money were sewn up and sealed in a bag in order to prevent its 
 teing spent, and in this condition was lent for any purpose (the sartie 
 
332 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 in the Middle Ages money had normally no other function 
 than to serve as a medium of exchange, to charge interest 
 on money at that period demanding in return for money 
 lent both the original sum and something additional 
 for its use by the borrower, would be attributing to 
 money a double value which it did not then possess. 
 
 Now all this reasoning of the Scholsatic writers holds 
 true to-day as well as in the Middle Ages. Money as 
 money, i.e. as a mere medium of exchange, is still un- 
 productive, still something, the use of which is its con- 
 sumption, and, therefore, as money it confers on the 
 owner no right to special profit arising out of its being 
 lent. But money is now, what it was not in the Middle 
 Ages, something more than this. Money now is capital,* 
 it is productive, for it can he turned into capital f at any 
 
 might be said if money were lent as an ornament) the loan of it would 
 entitle the owner to a special charge. It would not then be a thing 
 consumed in its use, but even after use would still remain in the hands 
 of the user. See " Quaestiones Disputatae," De Malo, Q. XIII. 
 Art. 4, ad 15 ; also " S. Theol." II. 11=, Q. LXVII. Art. i. In this 
 exposition of the morals of money-lending, St. Thomas, it will be 
 obvious, makes full and effective provision for possible changes in 
 the normal function of money, such as occurred when money, whilst 
 still retaining its original function of a medium of exchange, became 
 also a species of capital or a source of wealth. 
 
 * In the text above interest is regarded on its moral side as due 
 to the lender, the ground being the fact that money now is capital. 
 But interest can also be considered on its economic side, as offering 
 an inducement to the saving of money. Once a sufficient amount has 
 been saved for all future necessary purposes an owner of money will 
 not effect further savings unless he is induced to do so by an offer 
 of interest. He must be paid, by those who are in need of money- 
 loans, to save. This payment, i.e. the interest one receives, might be 
 regarded as compensation for the sacrifice entailed in not spending 
 one's money. 
 
 ■f It may be objected that in the Middle Ages money could be 
 turned into furniture and ornaments and other things that were 
 not consumed in their use. Might not interest, therefore, be charged 
 on money as representing these things ? 
 
 We answer that no such charge could be made. For furniture 
 and ornaments and such things are ordinarily bought to be kept ; 
 money is convertible into them as things ordinarily to be kept ; and 
 as long as a person keeps these things their use is not distinct from 
 the things themselves nor are they a source of profit. No doubt 
 furniture and ornaments could be made a source of profit in one 
 way, i.e. by lending them ; for, as we have already seen, a charge 
 can be made for the loan of these things. But as kept they are not a 
 gource of profit, ancl normally they were bought to be kept. In this 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 333 
 
 moment, by the simplest of processes, and at no cost. 
 In the Middle Ages capital was not on the market. At 
 that period the only kind of capital worth talking about 
 was land, and land was not in the market. At that 
 period, therefore, money could not be turned into capital. 
 So easily on the other hand is money turned into capital 
 at present that each is ordinarily spoken of in terms of 
 the other. Although money is not, in specie, the same 
 thing as a railway or a mine or a business concern or 
 any of the other kinds of capital, yet he who has money 
 is said to be possessed of capital ; and on the other 
 hand a railway or a mine is ordinarily spoken of as 
 stock, i.e. it is spoken of in terms of its money-value 
 just as if it consisted of so many sovereigns or pound 
 notes. He, therefore, who at present has money has 
 capital, and consequently when money is lent a charge 
 can be made for the loan of it just as for the loan of 
 any other productive thing.* 
 
 The just rate of interest. 
 
 The rate of interest is determined by the market, just 
 like the price of any other commodity, and it is always lawful 
 to charge the market price. There will, of course, be a 
 summum and an infimum pretium for money just as for other 
 commodities, and jtistice is observed as long as a lender does 
 not exceed the summum fretium. 
 
 The market rate of interest is formed in the same way as 
 
 they differ radically from machinery. A machine can be kept 
 and yet used as a source of profit. This is the normal and chief 
 function of a machine — to produce and to be a source of profit. 
 Whilst, therefore, money as convertible into a machine is convertible 
 into something which is normally a source of profit to its owner, 
 money as convertible into furniture is convertible into what is not 
 ordinarily a source of profit to its owner. In the first case, therefore, 
 money carries with it a claim to interest ; in the second case it does not. 
 * The theory expounded in the text above on the ground of 
 interest and on the difference between the mediaeval system and 
 our own is fully confirmed in an able discussion on ihe mediaeval 
 doctrine of interest in W. J. Ashley's " An Introduction to EngUsih 
 Economic History and Theory," Vol. I. p. 148. On interest as com- 
 pensation for the sacrifice involved in saving and as an inducement 
 to save (referred to in our note, p. 332) see T. N Carver, " The Dis- 
 tribution of Wealth," ch. vi. 
 
334 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 other prices. It depends chiefly on the profits accruing 
 from the different kinds of capital. Money is lent for the 
 purchase of capital and stands for capital, and its price 
 will naturally vary with the productiveness of capital. The 
 market price takes little account of risks. The value of 
 risks is a thing for the individual lender altogether. 
 
 The market rate of money varies just like ordinary prices, 
 and it would be exceedingly difficult to fix on any general 
 limit which could never be exceeded. In a particular country 
 and at a particular time it might reach a very high figure — 
 in others it might stand very low. But the market rate, at 
 whatever level it stands, is the just rate, just as the market 
 price is the just price. It is, of course, possible for the 
 civil powers to fix a rate of interest to be in no case exceeded, 
 and then the price which is settled by government should be 
 regarded as knocking out all others. But the natural 
 determinant of the rate of interest is the market or the 
 quoted price. 
 
 THE W^AGES-CONTRACT 
 
 The wages-contract is a contract by which one man's 
 service or labour is loaned out to another for a definite 
 salary or wage. 
 
 The object of this contract is the employee's labour, 
 his energies, or, as a thing of economic value, himself. 
 'The employee places himself at the disposal of his 
 employer to be used for the employer's interest, and 
 for this loan of himself and his energies he receives a 
 certain salary or wage. 
 
 In its widest sense this contract covers all the fields 
 of human labour, that of skilled and unskilled men, the 
 labour of carpenter, clerk, doctor, and cabinet minister. 
 In all these the labour of the individual is put up for 
 sale or hire. But in its narrower sense this term labour- 
 or wages-contract is used to signify the contract entered 
 into between the master or the capitalist and those of 
 his employees who are in receipt of a daily or weekly 
 wage. It is in this sense that we shall employ the term 
 in our present discussion. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 335 
 
 The nature of the wages-contract. • 
 
 Capitalist and labourer must stand to each other in 
 one or other of two relations. The labourer may work 
 with the capitalist as a partner or he may work for him 
 as a wage-earner. In the first case the labourer would 
 be supposed to supply the necessary labour just as the 
 capitalist supplies the necessary capital, and both would 
 share in the profits according to the relative value of 
 their respective contributions to the work effected by 
 their joint efforts. 
 
 But this first system has disadvantages for the labourer 
 that are at once manifest and unavoidable. In a factory 
 employing three thousand hands the share of the profits 
 falling to each labourer (no matter how favourable the 
 terms of the contract) will not make him a rich man in 
 the sense in which the capitalist at present is rich. He 
 can never possess very much money of his own, and 
 never can command credit to any but an insignificant 
 degree ; and, therefore, to keep a labourer out of his 
 money for six or twelve months would practically mean 
 leaving him and his family without the necessaries of 
 life during that period. Consequently the labourer 
 must receive his money at regular and brief intervals 
 if he is to be in a position to meet his daily wants. 
 Besides, there is the element of risk. The labourer 
 cannot afford to work for a whole year for a reward 
 which is purely hypothetical. At any time disquieting 
 circumstances may arise or accidents may happen. 
 Fires may destroy, wars may break out, depreciation in 
 the value of a manufactured article may occur, the 
 prices of raw material may rise, defaulters may abscond, 
 debtors may go under, and the consequence may be 
 the total disappearance of the anticipated profits or 
 their serious diminution. In that case a labourer who 
 is a partner will have given his labour for nothing or 
 for very little, and disaster will be the result for himself 
 and his family. 
 
336 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 From all this it will be evident that the position of 
 partner in a commercial concern is attended by incon- 
 veniences and risks which a rich man may face with 
 some degree of equanimity but which are wholly un- 
 suited to the needs and resources of the average work- 
 man. A workman must receive the full reward of his 
 labour at regular and brief intervals, and he must be 
 assured of a standard and definite income whether the 
 profits of the concern to which he is attached go up or 
 down, or even if they disappear altogether. These are 
 the two conditions without which the lives of most 
 workmen would be insupportable, and it is these two 
 conditions that constitute the second of the two systems 
 referred to above — the wages-system, and the wages- 
 contract. A wage-earner is one who hires out his 
 labour to another and receives in return, at regular and 
 brief intervals, a definite and assured amount not 
 dependent on the varying fortunes of the concern by 
 which he is employed. 
 
 The relation of workman and capitalist then, under 
 the wages-system is easily understood. The capitalist 
 gets the net profits be they great or be they small. The 
 labourer gets a fixed weekly wage. What is meant by 
 the net profits ? They are those profits that remain 
 after all expenses have been paid. These expenses 
 are many. They include the rents of grounds and 
 buildings, the interest on borrowed money, the price 
 of raw materials ; and they include also the wages-bill 
 • of the workman. All these things have to be counted 
 in and paid before the net profits falling to the capitalist 
 can be computed or appropriated. They are the first 
 charges on the concern, they come before the profits, 
 they are independent of the profits ; the profits, on the 
 contrary, depend on them. Herein is much food for 
 thought for the capitalist class. It is the capitalist 
 who takes the risk of a business. But the risk is not 
 without its advantages, for the capitalist gets the profits, 
 too. The bargain is — " to you (the workman) an 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 337 
 
 assured weekly wage ; to me the profit* and the risks. 
 If the profits are high they belong to me. You cannot 
 complain of this, because if the profits are low or dis- 
 appear altogether it is I who am the loser." It is a 
 fair bargain, but its terms must be observed most 
 rigorously, not by the workman only, but by the capitalist 
 as well. The capitalist engages to pay his workmen a 
 fixed and a just wage. He cannot, when the profits 
 begin to decline, reduce his workmen's wage on the 
 ground that the concern is poor and cannot afford to 
 pay the stipulated wage. The capitalist must pay the 
 stipulated wage as long as there is anything wherewith 
 to pay. The capitalist cannot have it both ways. He 
 cannot make his own of the increased profits when 
 profits rise, and put the loss on the labourer when they 
 fall. It must be either one thing or the other — a partner- 
 ship-contract giving the workman part ownership of the 
 concern and of the net profits, or a wages-contract 
 securing him the full stipulated weekly wage.* 
 
 But the obligations of the capitalist do not stop at 
 continuing the stipulated wage even when profits decline. 
 The wage which is paid to the labourer is supposed to 
 be just. Opinions vary as to the question what it is 
 that constitutes the just wage. But there can be no 
 difference of opinion as to the capitalist's obligation to 
 pay a just wage. And capitalists themselves fully 
 recognise this obligation. Now a wage that is just and 
 equitable at one period or in one set of circumstances 
 may not be just and equitable at another. The cost 
 of living, for instance, may be greater at one period 
 than at another. If, therefore, it should happen that 
 the wages paid to, and accepted by, workmen ceased 
 for any reason to reach the level of the just wage, for 
 instance, because it was no longer a living wage, it be- 
 
 * A combination of these two metliods lias been recommended. 
 But in so far as the wages system is adopted, all that we have said 
 holds good even in the case of the combined method. Wages are 
 a first charge on the receipts and must be allowed for before profit? 
 are computed. 
 
 VOL. n — 22 
 
338 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 comes the duty of the capitalist to raise the wages of 
 his workmen to the level required by justife, irrespective 
 of whether the profits of the concern are high or low 
 or whether some shareholder capitalists might as a 
 result be left without their dividend. It is not merely 
 the wage of the labourer that constitutes, as we have 
 said, a first charge on an industry, and that requires to 
 be allowed for and paid before the net profits begin to 
 be computed, but the just wage of the labourer, for no 
 other wage has a right to be considered as fulfilling the 
 terms of the contract which we are here discussing. 
 
 The conclusion to which this discussion leads is as 
 follows : capitalists who deny an increase of wages to 
 their men when such increase in manifestly necessary 
 in order to bring wages up to the just level,* or who 
 deny it until work is struck by the labourers, are guilty 
 of a gross injustice to their men. The strike is a very 
 disastrous thing, disastrous particularly for the labourer ; 
 and capitalists, who, rather than raise the men's wages 
 of their own accord, will permit a strike to occur are 
 guilty of a two-fold injustice, first, the injustice of with- 
 holding a just wage ; and secondly, the injustice of 
 compelling the men to undergo great misery in defence 
 of what is their clear right. 
 
 But there is a duty on the other side also. We have 
 seen what the wages-contract is. To the workmen a 
 fixed and a just wage, to the capitalist the varying profits. 
 The workmen, therefore, should not clamour for an 
 increase of wages as soon as the profits rise. They 
 have a right to a share in the risen profits in one case 
 only, the case, viz. in which the increased profits are 
 due to a large extent to increased work put on the work- 
 men. If their hours and the intensity of the work 
 remain the same, any increase occurring in the profits 
 of the concern should be regarded as portion of the 
 
 * Of course it is only the "real " wage that counts for the workman, 
 i.e. the wage considered from the point of view of its actual purchasing 
 power. The labourer has a right to a just real wage. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 339 
 
 capitalist's chances. The workman cannj)t have it both 
 ways any more than the capitaUst. He cannot expect 
 the capitalist to shoulder all the losses and then to 
 divide the increased profits with his employees. The 
 essential conditions of the wages-contract hold for one 
 side as well as for the other. 
 
 This does not mean that the wages of labour should 
 be regarded as static, that they should not advance as 
 the profits of industry increase all over the world, that 
 the workman has not the same right as other people 
 to share in the advancing prosperity of the race at large. 
 Those increases in profits to which we said the workman 
 should not lay claim are temporary increases, or increases 
 occurring in particular firms and due to particular and 
 transient causes. To these, as we said, the capitalist 
 has an exclusive right.* But the workman has a full 
 right to some share in the increasing wealth of the 
 world at large, and in particular to those permanent 
 increases in the profits of industry that are of general 
 occurrence, and that form such a large and important 
 part of what we speak of as the increasing prosperity 
 of the race. 
 
 In the first place the workman has a right in legal 
 justice to a share in this advancing wealth of the world. 
 The first law of legal justice is that the interests of the 
 parts should be subordinated to the interest of the 
 whole. Capitalists, therefore, have no right so to make 
 use of their position as directors and employers of labour 
 as to prevent advancement in the general welfare whilst 
 enriching themselves. But with a poor and miserable 
 proletariat, a proletariat that must still remain im- 
 poverished, and, therefore, backward and ignorant, and 
 wanting in all the refinements of life, whilst the rest of 
 the world increases its wealth and progresses in everj? 
 department of human activity, it cannot be said that 
 
 * Because he runs all the risk. But where the Increased profits are 
 permanent and universal, no risk is run by the capitalist, and there- 
 lore the rule of the ordinary wages contract (to the capitalist all the 
 chances, to the workman a fixed wage) does not apply. 
 
340 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the welfare of the whole body politic is increased. In 
 any organism the welfare of the whole depends on the 
 welfare not of one but of all the parts. And it is to be 
 remembered that whilst the capitalist class is one part 
 only, and small in comparison with the others, the 
 proletariat constitutes the far greater portion of the 
 human race. Labour, therefore, has a right in legal 
 justice to a share in the world's increasing wealth. 
 
 But workmen have a right to share in the general 
 progress of industry and the increasing prosperity of 
 the race not in legal justice onlj^, but in commutative 
 justice also ; and for the following reasons : — 
 
 {a) The workman has a right to a fair living wage. 
 But the living wage is largely determined by the standard 
 of living, and, therefore, as this standard rises, the work- 
 man's wage should rise correspondingly. Now, that the 
 workman's standard of living advances as the profits of 
 industry rise, is shown in the following way. In any 
 community the standard of living in one part must to 
 some degree depend on and reflect the standard in the 
 other parts. If one body of workmen eats meat it is a 
 grievance if the others can never touch it. If some 
 dress well it is a misfortune that others have to go in 
 rags. Where all belong to one society the parts must 
 necessarily react on one another and create requirements 
 in one another. 
 
 Now, the workman's standard of living is affected by 
 the standard of his environment in two ways : first, 
 the increased expenditure and extravagance of the 
 rich will affect his standard of living in accordance with 
 that general law of interaction in the parts of the social 
 whole of which we have spoken ; secondly, and more 
 particularly, the necessities of the ' workman will be 
 affected by the heightened standard adopted by certain 
 members of his own body. For, it must be remembered 
 that in the ordinary course of trade, capitalists will 
 always be compelled to compete with one another for the 
 best labour, and as a consequence the more skilled work- 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 341 
 
 men will be offered a higher wage. This higher wage will 
 raise the standard of living amongst the skilled men, 
 and not only amongst the skilled but amongst workmen 
 generally, even those who from their remote position 
 or from the nature of their work are not in a position to 
 bargain with the capitalist as the skilled men can. 
 
 (6) The workman has a right to share in the increased 
 prosperity of trade because to some extent he is the 
 cause of this increased prosperity. We shall see later 
 that the value * of labour, though primarily dependent 
 on the intrinsic natural functions of labour, is also to 
 some extent dependent on the products of labour. Now, 
 as industry progresses, the labour of the workman becomes 
 more and more productive ; and this increased pro- 
 ductiveness is not exclusively due to factors for which 
 only the capitalists are to be given credit, for instance, 
 the improved machines which they supply to their 
 workmen, but to other factors also ; it is due, e.g. to 
 the greater skill and effectiveness of human labour at 
 each generation, to the higher faculties that the newer 
 industrial methods call into play on the side of the 
 
 * Page 349. The value that we speak of here is the value that 
 ought to be recognised by capitalists, the value which belongs to 
 the labourer's work by natural right. Of this value economists take 
 often little account. For them the value of labour is the value that 
 is recognised and accepted, under the law of supply and demand — 
 the law of the " marginal utility " of labour to capitalist and workmen. 
 But to the workman's labour there attaches a value, as we shall 
 later show, that is altogether independent of the chances of supply 
 and demand ; and as long as capitalists and economists ignore this 
 rightful natural value they do an injustice to the workman. Economists 
 may devise methods for terminating the war of capital and labour 
 but that war will never cease until the moral rights of the workmen 
 are fully recognised, i.e. until it is recognised that there is another 
 element of value in human labour than that which the capitalist 
 finds it profitable to recognise under the law of supply and demand. 
 For an example of the " supply and demand " theory of the value of 
 labour worked out in its crudest form, see T. N. Carver, op. cit. p. 164. 
 Here the demand is represented as regulated by the (marginal) value 
 to the capitalists of the products of labour, whilst the factors regu- 
 lating supply of labour are said to be " the standard of living " (i.e. 
 parents of the labouring class will only bring so many children into 
 the world as can be reared according to the current standards of 
 comfort) and the " painfulness of labour " — truly an inhuman 
 theory of the value of human labour. 
 
342 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 workman — the abilities that are exercised in the manage- 
 ment of the newer power-driven appliances being higher 
 than those that suffice for the manipulation of the older 
 and simpler machines ; it is due also in some measure 
 to the increased demand of the community at large for 
 the products of industry, and to improved co-ordination 
 in the markets of the world. The increasing wealth of 
 the industrial world, therefore, is not to be regarded as 
 wholly due to capitalist endeavour, and consequently 
 the capitalist has not a right to the whole increase ; 
 and though once the wages-contract has been made, the 
 workman should stand to his contract during the specified 
 period, still, in the renewal of the contract, periodical 
 account should be taken of the all-round permanent 
 advance of the profits of industry, and of the part 
 played by the workmen in securing this advance. Of 
 increases in the profits of industry, as well as of the 
 general output of industry, the principle holds true that 
 " all production is group production." * 
 
 As a class, then, workmen, whilst abiding by the laws 
 essential to the wages-contract, should share in the 
 world's increasing prosperity and wealth. But a mere 
 temporary increase, even though lasting over some years, 
 in the profits of a particular concern, does not of itself 
 justify workmen in clamouring for a higher wage, once a 
 just wage is agreed upon by employer and employee j 
 
 * See also ch. vi. p. 196, note. 
 
 t A question of some importance which labour leaders sometimes 
 put to labour audiences with great effect is the following : why should 
 the capitalist be regarded as master and the labourer as subject ? 
 If one pays out wages the other pays out labour. Are they not, 
 therefore, equal, just as buyer and seller are equal ? And if equal 
 why should one be " master " and the other " employee " ? " You 
 say," said Mr. James Larkin at a certain labour enquiry held at 
 Dublin Castle, " that you employ the labourer. I say the labourer 
 employs you." 
 
 The answer to this question is very simple. In the wages-contract 
 there is equality between the two parties in the sense that each gives 
 value for what he gets. But the parties are not equal as regards 
 the right of direction and control. The wages-contract is a contract 
 by which the labourer loans out his energies to the capitalist and 
 receives for this loan a weekly wage. Under this contract, therefore, 
 the energies of the workman are temporarily placed at the disposal 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 343 
 
 These temporary increases in profit may at any time 
 be replaced by losses, and since the losses have to be 
 borne by the capitalist alone, he should have all the 
 advantage of the increased profits. 
 
 THE MINIMUM JUST WAGE 
 
 It is important that the exact meaning of this question 
 should be explained. First, we are about to deal, not 
 exactly with the question of the just wage, which varies 
 according to the character of the different employments, 
 but with the question of the minimum just wage, the 
 least wage that can in justice be offered to any workman. 
 Secondly, we are dealing here with the case of the regular 
 employee, the man who gives up his full labour day to 
 his employer, and works regularly for the same employer. 
 As a matter of fact our doctrine of the minimum wage will 
 be found to hold true mutatis -mutandis of the case of the 
 casual as well as of that of the regular employee. But to 
 take account here of the two sets of cases would com- 
 plicate the problem of wages exceedingly. Thirdly, 
 our present discussion relates to adult and able-bodied 
 men only. The reader can himself determine how far 
 the doctrine of the just wage to be expounded here 
 applies to the case of children, women, old men, and 
 those incapable of putting in the full labour day. 
 Fourthly, our discussion relates to the question, not 
 how much the workman ought to be paid, whether, 
 e.g. it should be fifteen shillings or a pound, but what is 
 
 of the capitalist, and the capitalist has, consequently, a right of 
 mastership over, i.e. a right to use, direct, and control these energies. 
 By virtue of the wages-contract, therefore, the capitalist is the master 
 and the labourer subject. The wages-contract does, however, give 
 to the labourer a right of control over something, but not over his 
 employer. It gives him a right of control over the wage which he 
 receives for his work. Of his wage he is given the full right of owner- 
 ship and use, just as the capitalist gets a right of control over the 
 energies or labour of the man he employs. Herein, no doubt, there 
 is equality between the two ; nevertheless, as we have said, through 
 the wages-contract itself mastership lies with the employer, his 
 mastership being nothing else than his right to direct the labour of 
 his employee. 
 
344 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the principle by which the minimum just wage should 
 in general be determined. 
 
 These preliminaries being explained, we now go on to 
 the consideration of this important problem. 
 
 Various theories have been put forward at different 
 times as to the principle on which wages should be 
 determined, for instance, the " supply and demand " 
 theory that wages should be regulated like the price of 
 any ordinary commodity, i.e. by the laws of supply 
 and demand ; or the " value of the products " theory 
 that the wages of labour should correspond with the 
 value of the products of labour. Both theories find 
 favour naturally with capitalists, since on both theories 
 the advantage obviously rests or can be made to rest 
 with the capitalist. 
 
 Take first the theory of supply and demand. If wages 
 are to be regulated on this principle, then since the 
 supply of labour nearly always exceeds the demand, the 
 capitalist will always be justified in paying a very low 
 wage, or even a wage scarcely rising above the bare 
 subsistence level. Men will always be found to work 
 for a bare subsistence wage when the only alternative 
 is that of unemployment and starvation. 
 
 Then there is the " value of the products " * theory. 
 This theory the masters turn to their own advantage 
 because they apply it only in cases in which the ad- 
 vantage must be to themselves. They apply it when 
 the value of the products decreases, and, therefore, in 
 such a way as to lower the wages of workmen. They 
 do not apply it when the value of the products rises. 
 If they did the wages of the workmen should go up 
 with every, even temporary, increase in the profits. 
 Besides, they never give the full value of the products 
 to the workmen, and they reserve to themselves the 
 right to determine how much of the value of the pro- 
 
 * As was shown in a note, p. 187, these two theories are not quite 
 distinct and independent. It is the (marginal) value of the products 
 to the capitalist that regulates the demand for labour. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 345 
 
 ducts should go to the workmen and how much is to be 
 reserved as legitimate capitalist profit. We are not 
 complaining that capitalists reserve some of the profits 
 for themselves. They have a perfect right to do so. 
 Our point is that the " value of the products " theory 
 is not legitimately worked out by the capitalists, that as 
 applied by them it is always to the grave disadvantage 
 of the workman. 
 
 But these theories are objectionable not only because 
 under them the advantage is nearly always on the one 
 side, that, viz. of the employer, but for the much more 
 important reason that they are intrinsically defective 
 and unsound. And they are intrinsically unsound 
 because they fail to take account of, or rather positively 
 contravene, the central and essential element in the 
 wages-contract. What that element is will be seen in 
 the following line of reasoning in which will be elucidated 
 the true principle and theory of the minimum jilst wage. 
 
 The central and essential element in the wages-contract 
 by which this contract is distinguished from all other 
 contracts, including even the other contracts of loan, 
 is the fact that its object is not an ordinary commodity 
 like land or an ornament or a machine, but a human 
 person. Under the wages-contract a man puts himself, 
 i.e. his faculties and energies, at the disposal of, or loans 
 them out to an employer in return for a certain wage : 
 and the problem of determining the just wage is the 
 problem of determining the value of the human person, 
 or of his faculties and energies. Now, as we shall 
 presently see, the faculties and energies of the human 
 person have a certain intrinsic and natural value 
 independently altogether of their value for other people 
 which is purely extrinsic, and, therefore, in judging of 
 the value of a man's energies, though it is right to give 
 some prominence to the extrinsic value of labour, its 
 value, for instance, for an employer, our first considera- 
 tion should be devoted to that value which is natural 
 and intrinsic to labour, and which attaches to it under 
 
346 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 every variety of circumstances. Its minimum value will 
 certainly be that value which is natural and intrinsic to 
 labour ; but that value being once allowed there will 
 be variations of value to be considered depending on 
 the varying utilities of labour for other people. Let us 
 now go on to enquire in what the natural and intrinsic 
 value of labour consists. 
 
 The primary and fundamental factor of the value of 
 labour is not to be measured by anything extrinsic to 
 itself, e.g. by the products of labour, but by its own 
 natural function and end. Its value, in fact, is this func- 
 tion and end. In this, labour holds the same position 
 as any one of a man's natural organs or capacities. 
 The intrinsic value of the eye consists in seeing, the 
 value of the ear in hearing. If an eye were removed 
 there is nothing that could make up for its loss. The eye 
 has only one equivalent in value, i.e. its own function 
 and end. So also the true value of a man's labour 
 energies consists in the natural end of these energies, 
 in what they are meant to accomplish for a man. 
 
 What, therefore, is the end of our human energies, 
 and what the end of labour, which, after all, is nothing 
 else than the utilisation of one's energies ? Their end is 
 to supply the requirements of human life, the life and 
 interests of the man possessing those energies.* It is 
 these requirements that represent the true intrinsic 
 value and equivalent of human labour. The man who 
 gives up his whole labour day to another, puts at the 
 disposal of that other all those energies with which 
 nature has equipped him for the supplying of his own 
 needs. Therefore, the just wage payable in return for 
 the use of those energies, the only wage which could 
 justly be represented as the equivalent of those energies, 
 is a wage capable of supplying the same needs which our 
 human energies are meant to supply, j And the minimum 
 
 * See note p. 349. 
 
 t For an answer to the question — what if the products of labour 
 do not suffice for this ? — see p. 352. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 347 
 
 just wage will be a wage capable of supplying the minimum 
 essentials of those needs, the essentials of human life. This, 
 then, is the first measure- and test for which we are 
 seeking, the measure and test of the minimum just 
 wage. It is a measure which is based on the nature of 
 labour itself and its essential function. 
 
 Let no one say that this measure is indeterminate, 
 that it lets the capitalist in for any charges which the 
 labourer may care to put upon him. The essentials of 
 human life are perfectly understood by even the poorest 
 person. They include more than the essentials of the 
 vegetative or the merely animal life — more than mere 
 food. They are the essentials of human life as human. 
 They are wider also than the needs of savages. They 
 cover the essentials of civilised existence. They include, 
 therefore, not only a sufficiency of food, but also 
 decent habitation, decent clothing, some recreation and 
 a sufficiency of rest. To pay in return for the use of a 
 man's whole labour day * just what will feed him for 
 that day is to treat him as a beast of burden and not 
 as a man. The " pay " of the beast of burden is its 
 daily food. 
 
 The " personal " and the " family " wage. 
 
 But the problem of the minimum just wage carries 
 us farther still. The question suggests itself — are the 
 needs which the minimum wage must be capable of 
 supplying the personal needs of the employee only, or 
 do they also include the needs of the workman's family ? 
 In other words, is the minimum just wage a " personal " 
 wage only or a " family " wage ? To this question we 
 
 * We use this expression, " a man's whole labour day," advisedly. 
 In answer to our argument capitalists might suggest that what they 
 employ is not a man's whole labour, but a portion of it only, ten or 
 twelve hours out of the twenty-four. We answer — they utilise a 
 man's whole labour day — all the hours that it is possible for a man to 
 labour. The man who gives up to the capitalist all the hours claimed 
 by the capitalist, i.e. ten or twelve hours, cannot undertake any other 
 labour in support of his life. The capitalist, therefore, in this case 
 has appropriated the labourer's whole capacity for work. 
 
348 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 have no difficulty in giving the answer which is in our 
 opinion the only answer compatible with natural law 
 and justice. The minimum just wage is a wage which 
 is capable of supplying not merely the essential personal 
 wants of the workman, but (with certain reservations 
 presently to be made) the essential wants of the normal 
 or average family. 
 
 (a) Let us in the first place apply the test which, as 
 we have already seen,* constitutes the supreme criterion 
 followed in the determination of ordinary market prices, 
 viz. the common estimate of men. That common 
 estimate is certainly in favour of the family wage. 
 " How could a man support a family on such a wage ? " 
 is the criticism ordinarily heard of wages falling below 
 i certain level ; and this criticism not only occurs in 
 ordinary conversation but is repeated on pubHc platforms 
 and recorded in the public newspapers, and, so far as 
 we are aware, without comment or contradiction by 
 capitalists, at least of its main supposition, which is, 
 that a just wage ought to reach at least the dimension 
 of the family wage. And this common estimate of the 
 value of labour possesses the same degree of authority 
 in connection with the price of labour that attaches to 
 it in connection with the prices of any ordinary market- 
 able commodity. 
 
 (b) But it is possible to appeal in support of our con- 
 tention, not only to the extrinsic test of the common 
 human estimate, but also to reasoning based on the 
 intrinsic nature of labour and its essential functions, f 
 We saw that the natural function or end of the energies 
 utilised in human labour is the supplying of one's human 
 needs. But equally natural and imperative with the 
 need of food and clothes and housing is the need which 
 
 * Page 317. 
 
 t Our reasoning here will show that according to the view here. 
 expounded the family wage is due not merely in legal justice {i.e. 
 because it is required by the common good) but in commutative justice, 
 i.e. it is the equivalent and just price of the labour which is hired out 
 to the employer. 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 349 
 
 a father is under to support his children. It is, first, a 
 need which a man is bound by natural moral law and 
 obligation to fulfil. It is, secondly, a need which he is, 
 as it were, physically compelled to fulfil, which every 
 instinct of his nature impels him to fulfil. A father is, 
 in the first place, bound by natural law to labour for 
 the support of his children. The capitalist, therefore, 
 who monopolises all that father's labour is hound by this 
 same natural law to pay a wage which will admit of the 
 fulfilment of this obligation. In the second place, as we 
 said, the father not only ought to support his children, 
 but must do so, is impelled by natural instinctive love, 
 to do so — he cannot help sharing with his children that 
 of which he is in possession ; and, therefore, to pay him 
 a wage sufficient for his own personal support only, is 
 to pay him a wage insufficient even for himself,* since 
 part of that wage will go to his children under the opera- 
 tion of natural forces and instincts stronger than any 
 external compulsion. f 
 
 This, then, is the extent of the minimum just wage — 
 a wage that will enable a man to support himself and 
 his family. This is the lowest wage that can, under 
 normal circumstances, be paid to an adult, able-bodied 
 man. But granted this lowest wage there is then room 
 for variations above this level depending on differences 
 in the quality of the labour engaged, on variation in 
 demand and supply, and on differences in the varying 
 
 * The point is of the highest practical importance. The man who 
 undertakes to feed a bird in possession of young ones, by giving it 
 just sufficient for itself, really does not give it what is suf6cient for 
 itself, since nature would compel it to share its food with its offspring. 
 The parent bird tjrpifies the workman who, having given his whole 
 labour day to his employer, is incapable of obtaining or utilising other 
 means of support. Such a man must necessarily divide with his 
 family what he receives from his employer. 
 
 t Notice that it is only the natural function of labour, and its 
 natural ends, that should be provided for in the labourer's wage. 
 The employer need not take account of other needs, for instance, of 
 needs based on the fact that an employee becomes a member of 
 parliament. Neither must he take account of other relations, e.g. 
 the necessity of supporting the grand-parents of children. The 
 natural family in its strict sense consists of parents and children only. 
 
350 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 values of the products of labour. These will aU be 
 factors in determining the price of labour between its 
 .minimum and its maximum limits. 
 
 The meaning of the family wage. 
 
 It is important that we should determine how far 
 exactly this theory leads us. In the first place em- 
 ployers have the right to adopt a general line of action 
 in dealing with their workmen, and to pay, not according 
 to the varying requirements of each individual, but 
 according to normal and average circumstances only. 
 The wages of labour, therefore, should be such as would 
 enable a man to found a family, they need not be such 
 as would suffice for a particular family or for any number 
 of children above the average. In other words, the 
 wage demanded by justice is the absolute not the relative 
 family wage. Again, in fixing a father's wage, employers 
 may take account of the many employments open 
 to women and children, but only of such employments 
 as are compatible with the essential rights and duties 
 of women and children. Mothers cannot be asked to 
 do the work of men. They cannot, for instance, be 
 expected to work as chain-makers at the furnaces — a 
 work unfortunately in which women are too often 
 forced to engage — and though such employment is 
 possible in their case, it is not employment which is 
 consistent with the duties of mothers or the needs of 
 girls. Calculations, therefore, built upon possibilities 
 of such a kind are ineffective as exonerating employers 
 from paying the full family wage. Thirdly, employers 
 may take account of the many aids normally extended 
 to the poor by different public bodies and by the State. 
 In most modern countries education is to a large extent 
 free, workmen are insured against sickness and un- 
 employment, and money is continually being disbursed 
 in one way or another. On all these things an employer 
 may calculate as possible supplementary sources of 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 351 
 
 income. But a margin will, nevertheless, remain over 
 and above the purely personal wage which only the 
 employer can supply, and that margin it is the strict 
 right of workmen to have included in their wage. 
 
 Married and unmarried men. 
 
 The question arises — should the family wage be paid 
 to married men only, or should it be given to all adult 
 able-bodied workers ? Our answer is that it certainly 
 should be paid to married men. But the very same 
 reasoning that is available in their case would seem to , 
 hold also in the case of unmarried men. For our doctrine 
 is that a man's labour has a certain intrinsic value 
 determined by its essential function, and that value 
 attaches to labour as such and in every case, since the 
 essential functions are present in every case, and it 
 attaches to it even though the complete functions of 
 labour are not being actually exercised. Whether, 
 therefore, a man is married or not, or is a father or not, 
 he has a right to a wage which corresponds to the value 
 inherent in labour, a value which is determined by the 
 natural function of labour. 
 
 Besides, every man has a natural right to place himself 
 in a position to marry ; he has a right to save money 
 for the needs of a future family, and it is only the family 
 wage that can enable a man to do this. 
 
 Finally, in practice the distinction of married and un- 
 married in a wages account would be impossible. Men 
 doing the same work should get the same payment, and 
 any attempt to differentiate between married and un- 
 married men in favour of the former would be keenly 
 resented. In wages it is the normal conditions that 
 have to be taken into account, and normally all adult 
 men are actual or prospective fathers of families. 
 
 Difflctdiies. 
 
 (i) What, an employer may ask, have I to do with the 
 families of any workman ? What is it to me whether they 
 
352 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 have children or not ? I employ a man to give me his 
 " personal" labour ; surely I am only bound to pay him a 
 " personal " wage. 
 
 Reply. — ^An employer cannot possibly plead absence of 
 responsibiUty in this way. In employing a father he 
 monopohses labours and energies that can never be divested 
 of their relation to a man's children. He necessarily, there- 
 fore, assumes responsibility in regard to these children. 
 Again, let us imagine the principle of the personal wage 
 everywhere adopted. It is certain that under such a con- 
 dition of things the famihes of workmen must die out ; and 
 then employers would be forced to caU upon their workmen 
 to marry. The capitahst class, therefore, has need of the 
 families of its workmen. The capitalist class expects the 
 workmen to marry and to keep up the supply of labour. 
 And, therefore, since having engaged a man's whole labour 
 day there is no other way of maintaining these famihes 
 except by the payment of a family wage, the employer has 
 a duty to pay such wage. 
 
 (2) A second important difficulty is the following : What 
 if the products of an employee's labour did not allow of the 
 payment of a family wage ? 
 
 Reply. — (a) If in any case it is unprofitable to employ 
 labour on a certain work the capitalist is free not to employ 
 labour. But if he employs labour he assumes the obligations 
 necessarily attaching to his position as employer. (&) Again, 
 this difficulty of the possible unprofitableness of labour holds 
 under every kind of wages-system. It holds against the 
 " personal " wage as well as of the " family " wage, since 
 in any system products m^ay faU short of the amount of the 
 wage. Yet who would maintain that at least a personal 
 .wage is not due to labour in every case ? (c) The same 
 objection may also be raised in regard to any kind of ex- 
 changeable commodity ; its value to the buyer may not be 
 equal to the price required by the seller. Yet who will not 
 admit that the seller's requirements are a necessary factor 
 in the determination of the just price ? {d) Lastly, the wages 
 of labour constitute, as we have akeady seen, a first charge 
 on profits, and should be fixed and allowed for before the 
 net profits begin to be estimated by the employer. They 
 should be fixed before the prices of the things which the work- 
 man produces are fixed, since the net profits depend on the 
 prices. In other words, the cost of labour should not be 
 determined by the prices of commodities, rather the reverse 
 is the case — the prices should be proportioned to the cost of 
 labour ; and it is for the prudent capitalist to look before- 
 
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 353 
 
 hand and see whether he can get these pjices, and whether 
 it is worth his while to start a business and pay the legitimate 
 wage in view of the prices which the manufactured article 
 is likely to bring him. It is the employer who should take 
 the risk, for it is he who appropriates the profits when they 
 arise. 
 
 These are the principal ethical problems that suggest 
 themselves in regard to the duties and rights of employer 
 and workman under the wages-contract. Our treat- 
 ment, however, of this subject would be incomplete if 
 we did not add some discussion, however brief and im- 
 perfect, on the question of strikes — a question which is 
 essentially concerned with the conditions obtaining under 
 the wages system. 
 
 VOL. n — 23 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE WAGES-CONTRACT [Continued) 
 
 ON STRIKES 
 
 Definition of the Strike and its Chief Kinds 
 
 In a broad sense of the word a strike is any wide-spread 
 cessation of work. But in its narrower and more 
 technical sense it means an organised cessation of work 
 on the fart of a large number of workmen for the purpose 
 of securing the assent of an employer to certain demands 
 of his employees. 
 
 In the first place a strike is of employees only. A 
 strike of school-children is not a strike in the proper 
 sense of that term. Secondly, a strike involves cessation 
 of work on the part of a large number of men. An 
 agreed relinquishment of work by one or two has neither 
 the dimensions nor the importance connected in the 
 public mind with the notion of a strike. Thirdly, the 
 strike is a combined and organised movement. Any num- 
 ber of men might happen to relinquish their positions 
 simultaneously and in the same firm, but unless there is 
 agreement and organisation there is no strike. Fourthly, 
 in the strike proper the bulk of the men do not ordinarily 
 cease work with a view to obtaining employment else- 
 where, but rather with a view to returning to work 
 when the dispute with their masters is ended. Though 
 not an essential element in the strike understood in its 
 broader sense, for, after all, the strikers might from the 
 beginning intend to leave their old and seek for new 
 employment, the present condition would seem to be 
 
 354 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 355 
 
 in practice a normal and inseparably accompaniment 
 of strikes, and in the public consciousness it even con- 
 stitutes their most prominent and disagreeable feature. 
 Strikers for the most part remain in the neighbourhood of 
 the works that employed them, maintaining an attitudfe 
 of opposition to their masters, and their hope is to regain 
 their old positions but on the new terms to obtain which 
 the strike is undertaken. We shall, therefore, allow 
 this fourth element to remain as part of our definition 
 of the strike. 
 
 Three classes of strike may be distinguished : first, 
 the simple or direct strike, in which a number of men 
 suffering from the same real or imaginary grievance 
 strike for the remedy of this grievance ; secondly, the 
 sympathetic strike, i.e. a strike of men in sympathy with 
 others, or a strike for the removal not of one's own but 
 of others' grievances : * thirdly, the general strike, or a 
 combined strike of all employees, not to secure the 
 removal of a particular grievance, but for the purpose 
 of exterminating capitalism altogether and placing the 
 means of production in the hands of the trades-unions 
 exclusively. This kind of strike naturally admits of 
 degrees according as the strike involves the various 
 trades of one country only or of all. In its complete 
 meaning the general strike is of the second kind.f 
 
 The Morality of Strikes 
 
 The question whether strikes are lawful admits of no 
 unconditional or universal answer, since the lawfulness 
 or unlawfulness of the strike depends on the kind of 
 strike which is adopted and the attendant circumstances. 
 
 * It is of many forms. A department of a particular firm may 
 strike in defence of one of their number or it may strike in defence 
 of another department. Again, the employees of one firm may strike 
 in defence of the employees of another and wholly independent firm. 
 
 t The general strike is the strike by which the " syndicalists " 
 aim at attaining their ends. It is, therefore, known as the 
 " syndicalist " strike. 
 
356 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 We shall, therefore, for the purposes of this discussion, 
 consider each of the three kinds of strikes just men- 
 tioned, separately and independently. 
 
 THE SIMPLE OR DIRECT STRIKE 
 
 Every naan has a full and clear right to resign his 
 employment at any time that he wishes, provided that 
 he has fulfilled all the conditions of the contract, for 
 instance, those concerning the giving of due notice to 
 his employer. But the question arises — have a number 
 of men a right to combine and agree to leave their 
 employment simultaneously in the hope of overcoming 
 the resistance of their master in case of a dispute between 
 employer and employed ? The two cases are very 
 different. For in the first case where only a single 
 individual gives up work, no harm is done to the em- 
 ployer, who normally, at all events, can easily find sub- 
 stitutes to fill the places vacated by his employees. But 
 in the second case the employer is gravely affected in his 
 business. Even under ordinary circumstances it is not 
 easy to find a large number of suitable employees in 
 the short space of time required to prevent interruption 
 of one's business. But the strike increases the difficulty 
 to an enormous extent. We may take it for granted, 
 therefore, that a strike means always considerable loss to 
 an employer, in many cases irreparable loss. Machines 
 lie idle, expenses accumulate without corresponding re- 
 turns, the normal relations with other firms are inter- 
 rupted, contracts fail to be fulfilled, customers go away 
 perhaps permanently, and the stability of the firm is 
 generally shaken.* The bad effects of a strike are often 
 perceptible even many years after the strike itself has 
 been brought to an end. 
 
 However, notwithstanding the many evils attendant 
 on strikes, and we have no desire to minimise their 
 
 * These are the evil efEects suSered by the employer. Later will 
 be considered the effect on the employee. 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 357 
 
 importance, it cannot be claimed that the strike is 
 intrinsically unjust or wrong. The fii^t element in the 
 strike, the mere cessation of work, scarcely requires to 
 be justified ; it is nothing more than the right of any 
 man, once he has fulfilled the terms of his contract, to 
 withdraw his labour and transfer it if he wishes to another 
 employer. Any man is empowered by natural right to 
 leave one employer and go over to another. At most 
 an obligation might arise in charity not to leave off work 
 where cessation of labour would put a master to great 
 loss and expense ; but we are here speaking about the 
 justice of the strike, not of obligations in charity ; and, 
 moreover, obligations in charity do not arise where 
 abstention from the strike would involve any kind of 
 serious sacrifice for the workman. 
 
 The second element in the strike is that of organisa- 
 tion and combination, and here again it is impossible 
 to maintain that the strike is intrinsically unlawful. 
 Generally speaking, what a number of men may lawfully 
 do, taken individually, they may lawfully do together, 
 and the same they may lawfully combine to do. It is 
 no harm to combine to do a thing which is not in itself 
 unlawful. Granted, therefore, a just cause or end, it is 
 the clear right of workmen to organise a strike for the 
 accomplishment of this end. 
 
 These are the two essential elements in the strike, and 
 in regard to them the question of justice can hardly be 
 raised. But serious and very practical questions some- 
 times arise in regard to the justice or injustice, not of 
 the essentials, but of certain common accompaniments 
 of strikes, one of which must be considered here. It 
 concerns the right of strikers to take means to prevent 
 other workmen (" blacklegs " — as they are opprobriously 
 called) from occupying the positions vacated by the 
 strikers, and also the right of strikers to put pressure 
 on their fellow- workmen to join in the strike. In 
 regard to both points the issues in justicS are perfectly 
 clear. Just as the striker? have a right in justice tg 
 
358 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 vacate a position even at the expense of their en^ployers, 
 so also outside workmen have a clear right in justice to 
 accept employment from any source that offers itself, 
 and strikers have no right whatever to prevent them 
 from so doing. The use, therefore, of physical violence, 
 or even the threat of violence against/ these outside 
 competitors is wholly unlawful in the natural, just as it 
 is disallowed by the civil law. So also, and a fortiori, 
 strikers have no right to compel their fellow-workmen 
 to join in a strike, to use violence against them, or to 
 interfere with their liberty in any way. These workmen 
 have a clear right to decide for themselves when, and 
 for the remedy of what grievance, they will go out on 
 strike ; they have the same right to decide against a 
 strike that the others have to decide in favour of it. 
 And, therefore, compulsion or physical interference of 
 any kind is a violation of their natural liberties and 
 rights. 
 
 But in both cases it is lawful to have recourse to 
 moral persuasion, and to every means that can legiti- 
 mately be regarded as falling under this conception. 
 For, whereas physical violence is always an interference 
 with human liberty, moral persuasion is not. Liberty 
 is violated where a man is physically compelled to do a 
 thing against his own judgment and will. Moral per- 
 suasion is an attempt to direct a man's judgment, to 
 influence his will ; and whereas the human body can be 
 compelled, the will and judgment cannot ; they are 
 not subject to violence ; they always remain in a man's 
 own power. The attempt to direct or influence them 
 is, therefore, never a violation of human liberty. 
 
 The difficulty, however, is to know exactly what acts 
 are included under moral persuasion and, therefore, 
 what means of dissuasion it is possible to use with out- 
 side workmen and of persuasion with one's fellows. 
 Discussion, appeals, promises are certainly allowed. 
 Physical violence certainly is not. Neither is the threat 
 of violence, since the same law that forbids actual 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 359 
 
 violence forbids also the threat of violence.* Midway 
 between these extremes stand the act* of reprehension, 
 derision, objurgation, and also ostracism of one's fellows, 
 concerning which it is difficult to give a definite judgment 
 since so much depends on the degree to which they are 
 carried and the spirit in which they are practised. Good- 
 humoured derision and objurgation it would be hard to 
 exclude totally, but even these when they become 
 hurtful and offensive are violations of justice as well as 
 of charity. Again, during a strike it would be un- 
 reasonable to expect the strikers to bear themselves to 
 the non-strikers as if no difference had arisen between 
 them, but complete ostracism, particularly if it outlasts 
 the strike, is wholly wrong. 
 
 Strikers may object that if their own fellows may 
 hang back on any occasion, and if violence may not be 
 done to blacklegs, the efficacy of the strike as a weapon 
 for removing the just grievances of workmen is reduced 
 to nil. Our answer is, first, that even if the strike were 
 rendered wholly inefficacious (which it is not) through 
 the absence of violence, the use of violence would still 
 be unlawful since, as we saw, violence is a clear violation 
 of the rights of workmen to continue in employment 
 or to seek vacated positions just as they please. And 
 in this matter we cannot afford to take lower ground 
 than the ground assigned by law and justice. The 
 strike kept within lawful limits is terrible enough in its 
 effects. But if strikers may regard themselves as free 
 to do anything that is necessary for success then the 
 strike becomes nothing but an appalling evil. If strikers 
 may have recourse to violence, why not to killing ? 
 And if the strikers may kill why may not the capitalists 
 also kill ? And the long-suffering public — why may not 
 they kill both ? The strike, divorced from law and 
 justice, becomes a weapon of universal destruction 
 
 * There are authors who allow indulgence in threats, presumably, 
 of course, threats of violence, but apparently on no ground of reasoning. 
 See Lehmkuhl, " Casus Conscientiae," p. 454! 
 
36o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 instead of what it ought to be — a valuable though 
 desperate remedy for a grave human ill. Secondly, if 
 workmen cannot secure unanimity in their own body, 
 and in that body we include the whole body , of workmen 
 including even the " blacklegs," then either they should 
 not go on strike or if they do go on strike they must be 
 prepared to put up with the weakness inherent in the 
 position of a body divided against itself. But certainly 
 such division in their own ranks gives them no right to 
 dispense with the fundamental requirements of law and 
 justice. The strike is only a combination of workmen 
 using certain means to get concessions from their em- 
 ployer. Similar combinations occur in other spheres 
 than that of labour. At elections, for instance, a number 
 of voters combine to carry a certain programme through 
 or to overthrow a government. But they have no right 
 to attempt to impose their will on other voters, even 
 though it is felt that through dissension a good cause 
 may fall to the ground or an old injustice be perpetuated. 
 In all such matters it is the right of every man to follow 
 the line that seems best to himself. If that right were 
 disallowed there would be an end to freedom in every 
 department of conduct. It is the same with workmen. 
 Dissension may or may not, in a particular case, be a 
 grave source of weakness to labour, but that fact can 
 never eradicate a man's inherent right to freedom. 
 
 The conditions of a just strike. 
 
 Though not in themselves unlawful, strikes are 
 generally attended by certain evil consequences, and 
 a man is not justified in striking in disregard of these 
 consequences, except on the fulfilment of certain very 
 obvious and intelligible conditions. These conditions 
 are {a) a just cause ; (6) a proportionate cause ; (c) a 
 right use of means. 
 
 {a) A strike cannot be engaged in without a just 
 pause, For a strike, no matter how short-lived, is 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 361 
 
 attended by evil consequences of a very grave character 
 — consequences for the master, for the jnen themselves 
 and their dependents, and for the public at large. The 
 men who go on strike are indirectly responsible for 
 these effects, and a just cause is always required for the 
 assumption of indirect responsibility for consequences 
 that are evil. 
 
 For another reason also a just cause is required, viz. 
 that the cause which brings about the strike is the same 
 thing as the end aimed at in the strike, and the end 
 of our action should be just. A man cannot promote 
 a strike, therefore, in order to revenge himself on his 
 employer or to humiliate and weaken employers as a 
 class. But a strike may be undertaken for a just wage, 
 or to secure a reasonable number of working hours, or 
 for some other cause of the kind*. 
 
 But if a just cause is necessary in the case of the 
 strike, it follows that the strikers should be aware of 
 the cause for which they are striking and of its justice, 
 otherwise their sin is the same as if no just cause could 
 be pleaded. But workmen can judge of the justice 
 of their cause in either of two ways — -directly or in- 
 directly, i.e. they may make themselves personally 
 acquainted with the exact nature of the issues for which 
 the strike is undertaken, and with their justice or in- 
 justice, or they may rely on the judgment of their 
 leaders and make that judgment their own. In the 
 latter case, however, workmen should be in a position 
 to know that their leaders are right-principled men, 
 men of proved competence and integrity, and possessed 
 of such qualities of mind and character as will afford a 
 reasonable guarantee that the body of workmen will 
 not be led into any wrong or irrational courses. 
 
 The question, " what causes are just ? " is too wide 
 and troublesome to be considered here at any length. 
 Under the just cause are included such grievances as 
 low wages, over-work, unsanitary conditions of work. 
 In connection with the first heading, i.e. low wages, \Ye 
 
362 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 think that one important consideration ought not to be 
 omitted, viz. that a strike may lawfully be undertaken 
 not merely in order to secure the minimum just wage, 
 but also a wage above this level. The labour of the 
 workman, like other things, has its just price, which 
 price is found to lie between two extremes or limits, 
 the lower and the higher. Now, just as a capitalist 
 may, provided he pays a just remuneration, decline to 
 go above the lower limit, so workmen may, if they like, 
 refuse any wage below the higher, and may even go on 
 strike in defence of this higher wage. It would, of course, 
 be unreasonable if strikes were to be commonly indulged 
 in for the absolutely highest wage paid in connection 
 with any particular kind of labour. The strike is so 
 full of dire possibilities for everybody concerned that 
 insistence on the last farthing of the highest wage 
 would hardly be regarded as a sufficient motive for 
 permitting these evils. What, however, we wish to 
 emphasise is that a strike need not necessarily be for 
 the minimum wage, and that a strike may be lawful 
 even though the wage demanded lies somewhat above 
 the lowest limit and even in the region of the highest. 
 
 (6) The cause of the strike should be proportional to 
 the gravity of its effects. We have already enumerated 
 some of the evil consequences affecting the employer. 
 There are others equally if not more grave on the side 
 of the employee, of his family, and of the public at large. 
 Some of these evils are physical and mental (hunger, 
 poverty, misery of mind), some are moral. The latter 
 are practically inseparable from the strike. A strike 
 brings into exercise the most violent and terrible of 
 human passions. Directly it involves innumerable viola- 
 tions of charity. Incidentally, yet almost invariably, 
 it involves drunkenness, irreligion, loss of self-respect 
 both on the part of women and men, particularly the 
 former. In times of strike reason seems to lose its sway 
 over the most normal minds, and the best and most 
 circumspect of persons tend to become lowered and 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 363 
 
 demoralised. If it is a criminal thing for capitalists to 
 drive workmen by the exercise of cruelty (ft inconsiderate- 
 ness to the adoption of this terrible remedy of the strike, 
 so also it is most sinful for the workmen to make them- 
 selves responsible for these consequences without the 
 gravest cause. A strike undertaken for some light or 
 trivial cause could never be lawful. It must, if it is 
 to be justified, concern the means of sustenance or some 
 of /the other things necessary for a proper human life.* 
 
 (c) Only means in themselves lawful may be utilised 
 in the conduct of a strike. These lawful means are 
 two-fold — first, cessation of work on the part of the 
 labourers ; and, secondly, the exercise of a certain 
 degree of moral compulsion on outsiders to prevent 
 them from taking over the strikers' places. Beyond 
 this the strikers may not go. They must not injure or 
 interfere with the employer in his person or his property, 
 and, as we have seen, they must not use physical violence 
 against the non-strikers or against those who attempt 
 to occupy their position. These, as has already been 
 proved, are clear violations of right and justice. 
 
 THE TRADES-UNION EXECUTIVES 
 
 The consideration of these conditions leads us to say a 
 word on the trades-union executives, i.e. those bodies which 
 control and administer the union, and whose function it is 
 to declare and regulate strikes. A strike is unlawful unless 
 the cause, is just and proportionate, and unless the means 
 used to carry it through are in accordance with law and 
 justice. Before a strike is declared, therefore, the trades- 
 union executives should give the fullest and most careful 
 consideration to the justice and gravity of their cause. 
 They owe this duty not only to the capitalists but to the 
 workmen and to the public at large. Also when the strike 
 is begun they must use, and effectively use, all their influence 
 to keep the men in control and to prevent outrage and 
 injustice. From this it will be evident, first, that the 
 executives should consist of men who are upright, just, and 
 God-fearing ; secondly, that they should be men of tried 
 
 * See p. 347. 
 
364 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 prudence ; thirdly, that they should be responsible to the 
 unions. A word on each of these. 
 
 A bad or conscienceless set of labour-leaders are a scourge 
 to society, and a scourge to the unions which they direct. 
 Being unrestrained by any sort of moral or religious principle 
 they will rush a union into a strike without thought of its 
 justice or morality. Such men will often be moved by 
 other motives than sympathy with the men — vain glory, 
 the extortion of money from frightened capitalists and from 
 af&anced societies, and they will ruthlessly subject capitalist, 
 workmen, and the public at large to any suffering for the 
 attainment of these ends. Besides, bad men are incapable 
 of judging of the issues of justice between one side and 
 another even if they were wiUing to do so. Their minds are 
 distorted by false and immoral principles, and often they 
 are utterly devoid of a moral sense, that is, they are wanting 
 in moral perceptions of any but the crudest kind. They 
 are not capable, therefore, of judging aright, and should 
 not be entrusted with the function of directing the judgment 
 of others in a grave matter. 
 
 Again, the leaders of unions should be prudent men. Very 
 often great and perhaps necessary social movements are 
 proposed and started by hot-headed leaders, men of immense 
 will-power and perhaps also of surpassing intellectual ability, 
 but wanting in caution, deliberation, forethought, reserve. 
 Such men, though necessary for the initiation of a great 
 movement, are quite unequal to the task of directing it or 
 carrying it through, and they are altogether unfitted for 
 the momentous and deUcate work that so often falls to the 
 lot of a trades-union executive. 
 
 Finally, a trades-union executive should not be allowed 
 to assume the role of tyrant over the men, or be allowed to 
 get such a hold over the society as to leave the -members 
 no freedom of action when difficult circumstances arise. 
 The members of a trades-union can never divest themselves 
 wholly of responsibility for the courses of action pursued by 
 the union, and, therefore, the leaders of the union should be 
 responsible to the members and dismissable. The machinery 
 by which an executive is made responsible to the union is 
 a question that cannot be considered in the present work. 
 
 THE SYMPATHETIC STRIKE 
 
 The sympathetic strike, logically and consistently 
 developed, is based on a very simple and intelligible 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 365 
 
 principle, viz. that whenever the employes attached to 
 a particular firm declare a strike, all other employees 
 should abstain from doing work relating in any way 
 to the business of that firm. Generally the work which 
 these other workmen are expected to avoid is that of 
 handling " tainted " goods. -A strike occurs in a certain 
 coUiery. No railway men, for instance, will handle 
 goods belonging to that colliery. If compelled to do 
 so they strike. Then other colliers refuse to dig coal 
 for this railway. Carters decline to carry merchandise 
 to or from it. In brief the principle is — ^let any body of 
 workmen strike, and all other bodies whose work is 
 in any way related to the first must strike in sympathy 
 with it. A strike anywhere, no matter what its nature, 
 circumstances, or causes, is the bugle call which brings 
 out every " related " workman from his employment. 
 These later strikers may know nothing of the justice 
 or injustice of the cause alleged as the ground and 
 justification of the original strike. That is a matter 
 for the original strikers altogether. The great magnetic 
 principle of the sympathetic strike is that a body of 
 comrades in difficulty must be supported, that the 
 workers must have solidarity, that the fight of any 
 portion of the labour body is the fight of the whole 
 body. This is the full and essential programme of the 
 85niipathetic strike, a "programme perfectly clear and 
 intelligible and consistent with itself. Other minor 
 and partial kinds of sympathetic strike there are, and 
 these we shall consider at the close of our present dis- 
 cussion.* But what we have here to consider is the 
 full and complete programme of the doctrine of " tainted 
 goods " — the chief and essential form of the sympathetic 
 strike. 
 
 The question must now be considered whether the 
 sympathetic strike as based on this doctrine of " tainted 
 goods " is lawful or unlawful. Our view is that it is 
 
 * p. 368 
 
366 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 unlawful and we base our opinion on the following 
 arguments : — 
 
 {a) It is opposed to the nature of the labour-contract. 
 The labour-contract is one in which a number of workmen 
 make over their labour to an employer, giving him full 
 control * and use of their labour, in return for a wage of 
 which they also have full use and control. What would 
 be thought of an employer who attempted to dictate to 
 his workmen how their money should be used ; or, more 
 important still, who sometimes withheld from them a 
 portion of the stipulated wage ? The money which a 
 workman earns — all of it — is his, and, therefore, he has 
 a right to receive it in full from his employer and to use 
 it as he himself chooses. On the other side also a similar 
 relation and right obtain. The workman hires out his 
 labour to his employer, thereby giving the latter full 
 use and direction of it, and, therefore, it is for the 
 employer and not for 'the workman to determine 
 (within, of course, the terms of the contract) what 
 work is to be performed and what goods are to be 
 handled. 
 
 (b) The essential and immediate effect of the sym- 
 pathetic strike is, not to bring the original strike to an 
 end in favour either of employer or workmen, but to 
 spread the strike, and, therefore, to make things more 
 difficult for other employers and workmen, and the 
 public at large. Rarely, if ever, has the sympathetic 
 strike any effect whatever in ending the original dispute. 
 But even if it did aid the original strikers such a conse- 
 quence would be wholly accidental and would be com- 
 pletely outbalanced by the essential and intrinsic effect 
 of the sympathetic strike, which is, as we have said, 
 merely to spread the area of the dispute and not to 
 limit or to end it. 
 
 (c) In the sympathetic strike there is no proportion 
 such as is always required by reason between the remedy 
 
 * Namely, such control as labour is capable of, i.e. the employer 
 can direct the labour of the workman. 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 367 
 
 applied and the effect attained. Carried ,^to its logical 
 extreme it would mean a stoppage of work all over the 
 land for the sake of a single group of men or a single 
 individual. 
 
 [d) If workmen may strike in order to help other 
 strikers to defeat their employers, then it would be 
 lawful for the capitalist in time of strike to dismiss 
 even those Willing to work in order that these latter 
 might compel their comrades to submit ; it would also 
 be lawful for capitalists all over the country to join 
 together, and close up every workshop in the land in 
 order that the workers generally might be starved into 
 compelling the original strikers to resume their employ- 
 ment, and on the masters' terms. In other words, if 
 the sympathetic strike is lawful, the sympathetic 
 lock-out is also lawful ; and since the latter is re- 
 garded, and rightly regarded, as utterly inhuman and 
 immoral, it follows that the sympathetic strike is also 
 immoral. 
 
 (e) We now come to the final, and we believe, the 
 most important argument of this series of arguments 
 on the morality of the sympathetic strike. We saw 
 before that no body of men may lawfully go on strike 
 without a just cause ; we saw also that they are bound 
 to make certain of the justice of their cause before 
 embarking on the strike. But the policy of the sym- 
 pathetic strike excludes the fulfilment of this condition. 
 For under the s5Tnpathetic policy there is no machinery 
 for securing even generally the justice of strikes, and 
 besides, under this policy workers are supposed to strike 
 not because of the justice of their comrades' cause, but 
 simply because their comrades are on strike. The original 
 strikers may have a very poor case indeed, but the 
 other workers must go out all the same. In the sym- 
 pathetic strike proper it is the fact that men are actually 
 on strike that determines the action of other union 
 bodies, not the justice of their case, and, therefore, the 
 
368 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 sympathetic strike is wrong in its essential ground and 
 principle.* 
 
 All this reasoning relates to the case where the trades- 
 unions adopt the sympathetic strike as a regular policy, 
 and work it out consistently, the rule being that no 
 tainted goods are to be handled, that is, no goods owned 
 by any capitalist whose workmen are ofl strike. This 
 wholesale adoption of the " sympathetic " principle, as 
 we saw, is wrong and can never be justified under any 
 circumstances. 
 
 But a form of sympathetic strike must now be dis- 
 tinguished to which the reasonings just given do not 
 apply. We shall suppose that the policy of the sym- 
 pathetic strike as just described by us is definitely ex- 
 cluded, that trades-unionists are not expected to strike 
 in sympathy merely because other workmen happen to 
 be on strike. But let us imagine that on a particular 
 occasion the men of a certain factory find themselves 
 confronted with a particular case of injustice, i.e. a 
 grave and manifest injustice is being done to some of 
 their comrades. They are, let us say, being cruelly 
 used by their masters, or they are not paid even the 
 minimum wage, or the work that they are asked to 
 do is positively inhuman. Here there is no question of 
 a refusal to pay the highest wage, but of a refusal to 
 pay the lowest, no question of a struggle for shorter 
 hours merely, but of a struggle for "human" hours. 
 There is question, therefore, of a manifest and crying 
 injustice, an injustice, perhaps, which is limited to a few, 
 
 * In the sympathetic strike the men would find it exceedingly 
 dif&cult, if not impossible, to know whether the original strikers are 
 right or wrong. Not only do they belong to different emplojmients 
 but their work may lie in different countries. Neither can they 
 trust the judgment of the original leaders, since they neither know 
 these leaders nor have they elected them to their positions. But 
 whether it is possible to discover the justice of the original cause or 
 not makes very little difference in the case of the sympathetic principle. 
 Once a strike occurs in a particular factory all goods consigned to 
 ■that factory are regarded as forthwith tainted goods, and on the 
 mere ground that a strike is now in being. 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 369 
 
 but which cannot be removed except by a strike on the 
 part of the whole factory. The question arises, is such 
 a strike lawful, or must the few and apparently powerless 
 sufferers be compelled to make their fight alone ? Our 
 answer is that a sympathetic strike in the circumstances 
 would be quite in accordance with justice and the moral 
 law. 'N^Tiat else does it amount to except the protecting 
 of a certain number of helpless individuals against 
 aggression and obvious injustice on the part of the 
 capitalist. But the conditions which justify the strike 
 in the present instance are very different from the 
 conditions of the unjust sympathetic strike which we 
 have already considered. For the present strike affects 
 the guilty employer only. In the other case even 
 innocent employers become involved. The present 
 sympathetic strike relates to cases of obvious injustice 
 only. The sympathetic strike which we have con- 
 demned is a strike undertaken in support of men on 
 strike for any reason. In the present case it is supposed 
 that the justice of the cause is directly and immediately 
 known to the strikers. This is impossible once the 
 strike begins to spread to other firms. 
 
 This limited form of the sympathetic strike is not, 
 therefore, to be regarded as intrinsically unlawful. 
 But even in this limited form the sympathetic strike is 
 always dangerous, and ought not to be undertaken 
 without the gravest consideration, and not before all 
 other means have been exhausted for securing for the 
 workmen a just wage and just conditions of labour. 
 
 The General Strike 
 
 The consideration of the general strike need not 
 detain us long. It is a strike undertaken for the over- 
 throw of the capitalist system. It aims immediately 
 at making the position of the capitalist untenable, at 
 so worrying him and so reducing his profits as to compel 
 VOL. :i — ^24 
 
370 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 • 
 
 him to hand over his business to hia own workmen for 
 whatever price he can get, or for no price. 
 
 Obviously this strike is wholly immoral, wholly unjust. 
 It is immoral in its end, which is the extinction of private 
 ownership in capital altogether. The trades-unionists 
 have no right whatsoever to exclude individual private 
 owners from industry. What are the trades-unions 
 themselves but private companies, constituting not 
 more than a seventh or eighth part of the entire popula- 
 tion — in some countries not a twentieth part ? 
 
 The general strike is wrong also in the means adopted 
 for attaining its end. Present capitalists are established 
 owners, with all the rights of owners, and no man has 
 any right to attempt to injure them, to render their 
 property useless, or to worry them into surrendering 
 their possessions to others. The " general " strike, 
 therefore, is wrong and immoral in its end and in its 
 means. 
 
 THE REMEDY 
 
 As long as government continues its laissez faire 
 attitude towards disputes arising between capital and 
 labour, strikes with all their attendant evils will con- 
 tinue. That attitude it is exceedingly hard to justify. 
 In all other departments of justice the State is insistent 
 in exercising her authority. Disputes as to ownership 
 and the rights of individuals she regards as her proper 
 domain when there is question of such things as houses, 
 lands, and chattels of various kinds. Why should the 
 rights of labour be excluded from her jurisdiction ? 
 Why, e.g. should it not be in her competence to declare 
 that a workman shall have a right to such and such a 
 wage, just as she declares he shall have a right to notice 
 before dismissal, or a right of way in land, or this or 
 that right under a mortgage ? It may be said in answer 
 that it is the business of the State to sustain the rights 
 pf individuals, not to create rights much less to destroy 
 
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 371 
 
 existing rights; and that at present it^is the right of 
 every employer to make the best bargain he can with 
 his workmen. We answer, government has a perfect 
 right not only to sustain existing rights but also to 
 determine and even to create rights. It is largely by 
 the authority of government, for instance, that railway 
 fares are determined. Why not determine by public 
 authority the proper wages of labour ? Government 
 has immense power in determining and even extinguish- 
 ing rights and titles. She will extinguish, for instance, 
 a man's right to his houses and lands when there is 
 question of some great public good like the building of 
 a railway. And surely the exclusion of strikes is a 
 grave public necessity. 
 
 In every country there should be set up special 
 tribunals authorised to deal, and to deal compulsorily, 
 with all questions concerning the nature and conditions 
 of labour, and these tribunals being once set up, both 
 strike and lock-out should be strictly forbidden as at 
 once unnecessary and opposed to the public good. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 ON INJUSTICE IN REGARD TO PROPERTY AND 
 ON RESTITUTION 
 
 The reader will by this time probably have forgotten 
 that we began the consideration of this sub j feet of in- 
 iusj:ice in a very early chapter of the present volume, 
 and that of the three ways in which it is possible to 
 injure others, two were even considered at some length, 
 viz. injury to a man's person, and injury to his character. 
 Before going on to treat of the third kind of injury 
 i.e. injury to another's property, it was necessary to 
 establish the existence of property and to enter into the 
 whole question of the foundations and titles of owner- 
 ship, together with other kindred but fundamental 
 questions, such as those of socialism and of contracts. 
 It is only now that we find ourselves in a position to 
 resume our consideration of the question of injury, and 
 in particular the question of injury to a man in his 
 property. 
 
 Let us, however, for the sake of clearness and com- 
 pleteness, recall the headings of our previous argument. 
 
 Any breach of justice or of a man's right is called an 
 injury or a wrong. Now a man has rights to three forms 
 of goods, and, therefore, he may be made the victim of 
 injury in three ways. 
 
 (i) A man has first a right to his life, to bodily integrity 
 and to liberty. A breach of right in any one of these 
 respects is to be reckoned amongst the gravest wrongs 
 which one man can do another. Restitution, however, 
 except perhaps in the case of deprivation of liberty,* is 
 impossible in these cases, as the injury done is irreparable. 
 * i.e. a man can be; released. 
 
 372 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 373 
 
 (2) There is also the right to one's good name, which 
 is violated by slander and libels in varfous ways. In 
 such cases there is a grave obligation to undo the harm 
 that has been done and to restore to a man his good 
 name. 
 
 (3) Then there are rights of property and injury to 
 property, this latter being the form of injustice with 
 which we are specially concerned in the present chapter. 
 
 The rights of an owner over his property are the 
 possession of it, and the disposition and enjoyment of 
 property at the owner's discretion. 
 
 Now the right of property can be invaded in two 
 ways. First, property may be taken out of the owner's 
 possession and converted to the use and enjo5mient of 
 the person who takes it. This we speak of as stealing. 
 Secondly, property may be destroyed or injured without 
 any material benefit to the wrong-doer. This act iis 
 spoken of as damage. These two special kinds of in- 
 justice will now have to be discussed ; but before con- 
 sidering them it is necessary to point out that in both 
 cases there arises a special obligation of reparation 
 which is known as restitution. Restitution is simply 
 the restoration of the original equality that existed 
 before the injury was done. I take five shillings from 
 a man, and thereby disturb the equality that originally 
 existed between us. There is only one way of restoring 
 the balance, and that is by giving him five shillings. 
 I destroy or damage a man's goods to the amount of 
 live shillings. I clearly have a duty of paying him five 
 shillings, thus as far as I am able restoring the original 
 equality between us. That as a matter of fact I shall 
 now lose five shillings and, so, am worse off than before, 
 is a consequence of my own making that cannot be 
 helped. 
 
 The duty of making restitution to him whom we have 
 injured by robbery or damage is too obvious to be 
 disputed, and it is not disputed, by any one. But it 
 
374 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 will be necessary for us to determine as carefully as 
 possible when a moral injury is done, and also what 
 conditions are required in order that it should create in 
 the wrong-doer an obligation of restitution. 
 
 Stealing 
 
 Stealing means removing property from an owner 
 against his will, and taking over the use or disposition * 
 of such property to oneself. We use this term to include 
 all cases of wrongful taking, whether it be done openly 
 and by violence or secretly ; whether it be done directly 
 as in ordinary robbery, or indirectly, e.g. by false pre- 
 tences, by extortion, or by fraud. These various forms 
 of wrongful appropriation have their own moral signi- 
 ficance, but we limit ourselves here to what is worst 
 and most essential in them, viz. the wrongful taking of 
 what belongs to another. 
 
 The right of using or disposing of an object according 
 to his own wish is the first and essential right which 
 ownership confers on an owner, and no other can possess 
 this right of disposition except by the wish of the owner. 
 The thief defeats this right of the owner, and in that 
 lies the moral guilt of stealing. The wrongfulness of 
 stealing lies in taking under one's own control another's 
 property against his wish or without his consent. 
 
 There are three cases — rare cases indeed — in which a 
 man may take and use the property of another against 
 his wish without doing any wrong or injury. First, an 
 owner may sometimes refuse to dispose of his property 
 to another though he may be under a moral obligation 
 to consent. Now, if this obligation to consent is an 
 obligation in justice, he in whose favour the consent is 
 due may lawfully take the property owing to him, 
 against the wish of the owner, t If, however, it is an 
 
 * This includes giving it to another. 
 
 t For the sake of public order, however, he should, if possible, 
 first seek the aid of the public courts. Some persons might contend 
 that in the case given in the text the thing which one ought to give 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 375 
 
 obligation in charity or religion only, this obligation 
 will be no justification for taking a man's property 
 against his wish. Thus if I get a decree of a court for 
 pa5Tnent to me of five shillings I may lawfully take it, 
 no matter whether I have the consent of the other party 
 or not. Again, if a debtor will not pay his debts, the 
 proper thing is to set the law in motion against him and 
 he will be compelled to pay. In that case his creditors 
 may take his property without regard to his wishes. 
 This is the first case where the goods of another may be 
 taken without that other's consent. 
 
 A second case is this. A debt is actually and certainly 
 due, but for some reason or other the person to whom 
 it is due has no remedy at law, the necessary evidence, 
 let us say, having been lost. If an opportunity offers 
 of quietly taking payment of that debt there would be 
 no wrong in doing so. Taking property in this way is 
 no harm, provided all the required conditions are ful- 
 filled ; but it is a dangerous process, and ought to be 
 restricted. This summary process of recovering one's 
 debts, since it has to be carried out not only without the 
 consent, but without the knowledge of the owner, is 
 called " occult compensation." 
 
 The third and last case in which a man may lawfully 
 take property against the will of the owner is the case 
 where one is in extreme need. The necessity to take it 
 must be supreme and it must be a question of one's life 
 or something almost equivalent to one's life, e.g. the 
 life of a wife or child. We may distinguish three degrees 
 of necessity — common, in which numbers of poor people 
 live, who are, however, very far from destitution ; grave, 
 in which a man is much worse off than the general 
 run of poor people but is not actually destitute. Now 
 
 to another is the property of that other, and, therefore, that the 
 present is not a case in which one has a right to take the property of 
 another but property which is his own. But on the other hand nobody 
 would maintain that the money which a debtor owes to a creditor is 
 the property of the creditor. He has a right to it, but it is not his 
 property till he gets it. 
 
376 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 neither common nor grave necessity will justify a man 
 morally in taking another's property, though it will be 
 an extenuation of his guilt. But extreme necessity, 
 when one is in danger of losing his life or something 
 nearly as valuable as his life, will justify a man in taking 
 anything he needs without the consent of the owner. 
 The owner in fact has no right to prevent such a person 
 from taking what he requires, and if the owner does 
 prevent him he is guilty of injustice and will be morally 
 responsible for the consequences. That an owner is 
 bound in charity to relieve a person in extreme distress 
 hardly needs to be proved. If charity exists at all it 
 certainly urges one to relieve a man in extreme distress. 
 But extreme distress also places an owner under an 
 obligation in justice to extend relief, as was proved in 
 an earlier chapter of this work.* This obligation in 
 justice is based as we saw on three facts, viz. that all 
 ownership begins in occupancy, that a condition of 
 valid occupancy is that what is taken into possession 
 should not be absolutely necessary to others, and that 
 this condition always attaches to property even after 
 it has been taken into possession. 
 
 It is a clear result of the right to take property when 
 one is in extreme distress, that it extends only to as 
 much as is really necessary. Also if the person in ex- 
 treme need has property of his own he must sell it in 
 order to obtain relief ; if he cannot do so he may take 
 property from another, but is bound to make com- 
 pensation to the dispossessed owner out of such property 
 as he possesses or has a claim to at the time that he took 
 the property of his neighbour ; but no obligation of 
 compensation arises in respect of property which he 
 may later acquire through good fortune, since nature in 
 imposing her obligations at the time that another's 
 property is taken, knows nothing of fortuitous ac- 
 quisitions later ; her obligations at any time are built 
 on actual fact and not on future chance. 
 
 * See p. 135. 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 377 
 
 The Duty of Restitution 
 
 We have to distinguish three sets of obligations under 
 the, head of restitution, viz. those arising out of posses- 
 sion mala fide, those arising out of possession bona fide, 
 and finally the obligations of those whose ownership is 
 doubtful. 
 
 Possession mala fide. 
 
 I. A person who has stolen property and is still in 
 possession of it must hand it back as soon as possible 
 to the owner, together with all its natural fruits and 
 increase. 
 
 This is the first and most obvious duty of one who 
 wishes to restore the equality that was disturbed by 
 his act of stealing. 
 
 II. He who steals property is deemed to undertake, 
 pending restitution, the assurance of the owner against 
 all risk in respect of the stolen property. 
 
 This construction of the responsibilities of a person 
 who has stolen and keeps property is the natural conse- 
 quence of his intention in taking the goods. His in- 
 tention certainly was to use and enjoy the property in 
 every way * an owner could, and in fact to take the 
 place of the owner as completely as possible. Now it 
 is natural to place the disadvantages of ownership where 
 the advantages lie ; indeed, the advantages draw to 
 themselves the disadvantages or onera ; and, therefore, 
 the thief must accept the onera of property which he 
 takes into his possession along with the advantages. 
 And in this he is not in a worse position than a true 
 owner would be. Neither thief nor owner has any 
 desire for the responsibilities and risks of ownership, 
 and these disadvantages are accepted only because 
 they are entailed by the enjoyment of property. There- 
 
 * This holds true even though the thief intends to give the stolen 
 property to another. Giving to another is one of the chief privileges 
 of ownership. 
 
378 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 fore, if a man takes to himself the ownership of goods, 
 natural law will see that he assumes the risks also. 
 Now one of the undesirable incidents of ownership is 
 that when property is lost or destroyed, or perishes 
 from any cause whatever, the loss falls on the owner. 
 Nor will the plea that he has used all possible diligence 
 help him ; nor can he divide the loss with former owners 
 on the ground that if he had left it with them it would 
 have perished all the same — ^he has to bear the whole 
 loss. The thief is in the very same position. He, and 
 not the real owner, will have to bear the loss, because 
 by his own act he has assumed the risk as well as the 
 profits or advantages of ownership, and so the loss 
 cannot fall on the true owner, which is what we meant 
 by saying that the thief is deemed to guarantee the 
 owner against loss. If, therefore, the stolen property 
 is lost or destroyed or perishes in any way, the thief 
 will have to be at the loss, i.e. he will have to pay the 
 owner the value of it. 
 
 III. The thief must also indemnify the owner for all 
 damage incidental to the theft as far as such damage 
 was foreseen by him. The owner may have to suffer 
 losses which he would have avoided but for having to 
 lie out of his property. He may have to borrow money 
 at interest ; he may have to forego chances of profit ; 
 he may even be called on to account for the money, and 
 through inability to do so may lose his place or even his 
 liberty. These are incidental losses, and the thief is 
 bound to make compensation for them in so far as he 
 foresaw them,* for to that extent they are due morally 
 to his act. 
 
 IV. In case the stolen property has been sold, con- 
 sumed, or lost, the price of the goods at the time that 
 they were disposed of must be restored to the owner, and, 
 in addition, compensation must be made for incidental 
 loss, if any, suffered by the owner in not being able to 
 
 * It is enough if he foresees these consequences confusedly. 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 379 
 
 sell the property on more advantageous tepns than the 
 thief obtained. 
 
 This rule covers all cases where the price of the 
 property varied during th^ time of unlawful detention. 
 As soon as the thief disposes of the goods the whole 
 price belongs to the owner, even though it was a higher 
 price than the owner himself would have obtained. If, 
 on the other hand, the thief gets a lower price than the 
 owner would have obtained, the thief is bound to make 
 good the balance to the owner.* 
 
 The bona fide holder. 
 
 It sometimes happens that an honest man becomes 
 possessed of property which he believes to be his own, 
 but which later he discovers to belong to another. This 
 is the case of the bona fide or innocent possession of 
 another's property. On discovering that he is not the 
 owner such a person has certain obligations. 
 
 I. He must restore the property with all its natural 
 increase ; but he does not insure the owner against 
 loss pending restitution — he is responsible for negligence 
 only. 
 
 II. If he has consumed or sold the property, he is 
 accountable to the owner to the extent of the value that 
 still survives to him from the property, but not further. 
 For, applying the principles laid down in the last section, 
 the ownership of the property in question always lay 
 in the true owner and so did the risk, the holder never 
 having intended to divest the owner of his property ; 
 and though as a matter of fact he did enjoy the use of 
 this property, his enjoyment of it was simply owing to a 
 fortunate mistake. But the bona fide holder is bound 
 to restore whatever is in his hands as soon as the mistake 
 is recognised. 
 
 III. An honest person who has bought property from 
 a thief without any notice of the bad title of the seller 
 
 * For a full discussion of the various cases arising under this head 
 of mala fide possession, see Lehmkuhl, " Theol. Mor." I. p. 586. 
 
38o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 will have to restore the property, notwithstanding, to 
 the owner and then get back the price from the thief. 
 This is the rule of natural law. But an innocent buyer 
 is exposed to great hardships under it ; and, therefore, 
 it is usual for the positive law to protect, as it has a 
 right in natural law to protect, such a buyer against 
 the worst of these hardships. But, indeed, as long as 
 there are thieves at large the loss incident to stealing 
 must always fall on some innocent person, and so what- 
 ever devices may be framed by positive law it is some 
 , innocent party that in the end must always suffer. 
 The protection of innocent persons from injury in all 
 such cases does not lie so much with the protective laws 
 as with the police. 
 
 The case of doubtful ownership. 
 
 Besides the two categories of persons in possession 
 of property of which they are not owners there are 
 others who are in possession of property in respect of 
 which they are in some doubt as to whether they or 
 others are the true owners. We cannot in a work like 
 the present go into this subject at any length, but the 
 first duty of a man who doubts in a practical matter 
 on which a decision must be taken is to resolve the 
 doubt by study and enquiry. 
 
 Again, if possession was originally obtained in bona 
 fide, and if the doubt which subsequently arose cannot 
 be cleared up by investigation, the possessor may con- 
 tinue to keep the property in spite of the unsolved doubt. 
 
 But if a doubt attended his getting possession, he 
 ought not to hold it against one who had bona fide 
 possession of it ; and if no one has this advantage the 
 property ought to be divided pro rata. 
 
 Damage 
 Where property is destroyed or injured, not taken, 
 and the wrong-doer gets no benefit from his act, that 
 act is spoken of as damage. 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 381 
 
 It is clear that the doing of damage ,to another's 
 property gives rise generally to an obligation to make 
 restitution, but as this obligation does not always arise 
 it is necessary to examine carefully the conditions under 
 which this liability is incurred. 
 
 The first condition is that the damage should be a 
 human act {actus humanus, not actus hominis) ; in 
 other words, the damage should be not accidental or 
 due to a mistake, but malicious. It is necessary that 
 there should be some moral fault. If a man in doing 
 damage does not know what he is doing, or does not 
 know he is doing wrong to another person, he cannot 
 be made morally accountable for it ; and the owner 
 will have to bear the loss just as he would if it were 
 done by some non-moral cause, such as a machine or 
 an animal. There is no remedy in such a case. Damage 
 done by very young children is of this kind and must 
 be regarded in the light of an accident, which one can 
 guard against in the future, but for which no person 
 can be held accountable. 
 
 Moreover, to render one's self liable to a grave duty 
 of restitution, we require a human act with a full realisa- 
 tion of the serious damage done and also a realisation of 
 the serious guilt that is incurred. An act that is to lay 
 on a man a grave obligation of making restitution must 
 be an act which is fully " moral," i.e. not imperfect, 
 either by reason of want of knowledge or of consent. 
 
 This, then, is the first condition — the damage must 
 be the effect of a human act springing from a com- 
 petent knowledge that wrong is being done and guilt 
 incurred. 
 
 The second condition is that the act should be unjust 
 in the strict sense, i.e. it should be against commutative 
 justice. It is only commutative justice the violation 
 of which gives rise to an obligation of restitution. If I 
 do not appoint a man to an office for which he is the 
 best man, but still to which he has no absolute right in 
 strict justice, I am not bound to restitution. I do 
 
382 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 wrong : I offend against distributive justice ; but I do 
 not injure the applicant in any of his strict rights. 
 
 It is easy to see whether my action is unjust or not 
 when it is a question of damage done to a man's actual 
 property. But it is not so easy to say when a man 
 becomes positively unjust in preventing another from 
 getting some property or some salary to which he has 
 looked forward. If a man has a strict right to the 
 advantage or position in question I am unjust if I 
 interfere at all. But if a man has no strict rights to 
 the property, position, or salary, he may still have a 
 strict right to be allowed a fair chance, and consequently 
 no fraud must be used against him, and no unfair ad- 
 vantage must be taken of him — the rules of the game 
 must be played. It is said that in som,e departments 
 of government the clerks have sometimes withheld 
 from the heads of departments the applications of 
 candidates for positions. Such an act would be a most 
 grave violation of commutative justice. Again, if I 
 know that some one is likely to leave a large legacy 
 to a certain individual I may dissuade the testator by 
 fair and true arguments from doing it, I may even 
 mention personal faults of the individual in question ; 
 but I cannot use threats or fraud, nor can I slander the 
 individual in any way. This rule, we admit, is vague ; 
 but it will give us some idea of where an injury may 
 begin which would entail restitution. 
 
 The third condition is that the person who is charged 
 with the damage should really have caused the damage. 
 Hence, first, if no damage has actually resulted no 
 liability to restitution can exist. Hatred and intention 
 to do damage, or an unsuccessful attempt at damage, 
 gives rise to no liability, even though there may be 
 grave violation of the moral law. 
 
 Again, the damage done should' really be caused 
 by my act if I am to be held responsible for it. If I 
 fire off a gun in a crowded street for mere fun, I am to 
 be held responsible for all the damage effected. But a 
 
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 383 
 
 trespasser in crossing a field at night is not to be held 
 responsible if in the darkness he knocks against some 
 person and causes his death ; and he would not be 
 responsible even if such an incident occurred to his 
 mind as possible. Such an incident could scarcely be 
 said to be an effect of trespass. It is an effect of a 
 most complex combination of circumstances which the 
 trespasser did not himself cause. Again, a criminal is 
 not charged with injury to another because his crime 
 is falsely imputed to that other by the public. He is 
 not the cause of this false attribution. 
 
 It is asked sometimes whether a man who intends to 
 burn down the house of one person, and by mistake 
 burns the house of another is liable to make restitution. 
 The reason of the doubt is that an injury is done to a 
 certain individual which was never intended. Different 
 solutions are given, but in our opinion a man who burns 
 down another person's house knows well that he is 
 doing grave damage to the owner of thai house, and it is 
 immaterial whether he knows who the real owner is. 
 
 It remains to say a word on the amount of restitution 
 one has to make for damage done. As a rule it is the 
 exact equivalent of the damage. But if the damage is 
 greater than the person supposed he was causing, is he 
 to be made liable for what he really did or for what he 
 supposed he was doing ? The answer is clear. A man 
 is not, chargeable for damage except in so far as it was 
 caused by a human act based on knowledge. Therefore, 
 no one can be charged with a greater injustice than he 
 thought he was inflicting or for a greater damage than 
 he thought he was doing. The rest is accident. 
 
 On co-operation. 
 
 When several persons have had a hand in doing an 
 injury the problem of co-operation is introduced. 
 
 Co-operation is either positive or negative. Positive 
 co-operation occurs when one person positively helps 
 another in wrong-doing, e.g. when several persons con- 
 
384 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 spire to kill another. Negative co-operation means 
 neglecting to prevent injury which one is under a duty 
 to prevent. Thus a policeman is bound to prevent a 
 thief from breaking into a house^ and if he neglects to 
 do so he is a co-operator in the crime. The chief servant 
 of a house has an obligation to protect his master's 
 property against all, even the other servants, whilst 
 the other servants have an obligation to protect their 
 master's property at least against all outsiders. Neglect 
 to perform one's duties in these cases amounts to co- 
 operation in another's guilt, and the very same obliga- 
 tions arise in respect of it that arise in the case of 
 positive co-operation. 
 
 In co-operation each of the persons implicated has a 
 share in the guilt and in the liability that arises to make 
 restitution. A man's guilt and his responsibility for 
 reparation go hand in hand, so that whatever will make 
 his material co-operation innocent will also relieve him 
 from all obligation to make restitution ; but to the degree 
 in which he is guilty he must make restitution ; we may 
 say then that partners in wrong-doing are bound to 
 make restitution generally in proportion to the share 
 they had in the wrong. A man cannot be held responsitjle 
 for more damage than he has himself accomplished. 
 
 Applying this law we find that as a rule each one is 
 responsible for a part only ; but there are cases where 
 each is bound to make good all the loss in default of the 
 others. Such is the case where several conspire together 
 and act as an organised band, or when the co-operation 
 of each is necessary, for in these cases each becomes an 
 actor in all that is accomplished. Again, full responsi- 
 bility attaches to each one who did what was sufficient 
 to cause the whole damage. If five people lay each' a 
 sleeper over a railway track each is responsible for the 
 whole damage done. 
 
 These are cases in which the partners are severally 
 bound to make good the whole damage or loss in default 
 of the rest. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 
 
 In the preceding chapters of the present volume we 
 considered the duties and rights of man as individual. 
 We now go on to consider man in society and the various 
 requirements of natural law in regard to society. Now 
 though there are many kinds of society differing from 
 one another in aim and importance, there are only 
 two kinds of human society that are instituted by 
 natural law, viz. the family and the State : and since 
 Ethics is the science of human conduct in so far as it is 
 governed by natural law, our discussion in the remaining 
 chapters of the present volume will be devoted to the 
 consideration of these two forms of society — the family 
 and the State. 
 
 Before, however, proceeding to our discussion on 
 these two special forms of society it will be necessary 
 to say what is meant by society in general, and also 
 to enumerate its various kinds. 
 
 By society is meant a stable union of several persons 
 hound to a common line of action for the attainment of 
 some common end. First, it is self-evident that every 
 society consists of several persons, i.e. any number more 
 than one. A single individual could not constitute a 
 society. Secondly, every society is to some extent an 
 enduring union, not necessarily a permanent union, 
 - but a union designed to last over a considerable period. 
 Thirdly, every society is held together by the moral 
 bonds of " end and means." Mere local contiguity 
 would not be sufficient to constitute a society. Local 
 contiguity is not even a necessary condition of the 
 social unit, since a single society might be constituted 
 
 VOL, 11 — 25 385 
 
386 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of members locally very widely separated from one 
 another. The social bond proper consists in the common 
 purpose of its members and the common means chosen 
 for its attainment. By a common means we do not 
 intend to connote identity of action on the part of all 
 the members. The various members constituting the 
 social unit have often set to them widely different 
 tasks for the attainment of the end. What the con- 
 ception of society supposes is the utilisation by the 
 various members of some portion of the common means 
 whereby the end is to be reached. It is through the 
 entertainment of a common purpose, and the pursuit 
 of this purpose through a defined common means, that 
 the plurality of members composing any society be- 
 , comes a unity. Fourthly, the means by which a society 
 attains its end are prescribed by laws set down by 
 some ruling authority, and so we say that the members 
 are hound to the use of the means. We have said the 
 end of society is reached by the adoption of a determinate 
 common means ; and since in most departments of 
 human action there are several ways in which, or several 
 sets of means through which an end may be attained, 
 it follows that society cannot attain its end unless it 
 is ruled and directed by some person or body of persons 
 charged, first with the selection of some one determinate 
 set of means, and secondly, with the duty of seeing 
 that the members utilise these means. All society, there- 
 fore, presupposes a ruler of some kind with authority 
 to legislate for and govern the members, to bind them 
 to the use of the proper means. This authority is 
 spoken of as the formal element in society, the members 
 who compose the union constituting the material element. 
 And since the set of means chosen must be one and 
 determinate, it follows that the supreme ruler of any 
 society must be one — either one individual, or one body 
 of individuals ruling with a common voice. If there 
 were two supreme authorities they would probably fix 
 on two different sets of means, not one, for the attaiur 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 387 
 
 ment of the end. There may., of course, be subordinate 
 rulers, but these subordinate rulers witt act by virtue 
 of authority conferred on them by the supreme ruler. 
 In every society there is one supreme ruler and one 
 supreme authority. 
 
 The various kinds of society. 
 
 Societies are divided into the following general classes : 
 
 (1) Perfect and imperfect societies. The expression, 
 " perfect society," is used in two different senses to 
 denote (a) a society which is self-contained, the end of 
 which is not contained in any other, and which is, there- 
 fore, itself not a part of, or subordinated to, any other 
 natural society ; (b) a society which is self-sufhcing, 
 i.e. is endowed with all the means necessary for the 
 attaining of its own end, and is on that account not 
 dependent on other societies.* The second is the more 
 common meaning and is the meaning which will be 
 followed in the present work. By an imperfect society, 
 on the other hand, we shall understand one that is not, 
 out of its own resources, capable of attaining its end. 
 The State is an example of a perfect society. An 
 insurance society is imperfect — without the State it 
 could not even exist. 
 
 (2) Societies in respect of their origin are either natural 
 or positive, according as they depend on natural law, 
 being necessary for men from the very nature of man, 
 or on positive law or positive agreement of some kind, 
 not being necessities of nature. 
 
 (3) In respect of their extent societies are divided into 
 universal and particular, according as they include all 
 men or only a special race, community, or body of 
 men. What is known as " human society " generally 
 includes the whole race as directed by the Supreme 
 
 * The second is really contained in the first ; a society which is 
 self-contained is also self-sufficing. 
 
388 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Ruler of the universe to man's final end. Each State is 
 a particular society in the sense explained. 
 
 (4) In respect of the relationship of the members, 
 societies are either equal or unequal. In equal societies 
 all the members have equal rights, powers and duties. 
 In unequal societies some members have special powers 
 and rights not shared by the others.* 
 
 THE FAMILY 
 
 The family is a society consisting of father, mother, 
 and children. In a wider sense of the word it includes 
 all blood-relationships. This is the sense in which the 
 word was used in ancient times. In the present chapter, 
 however, the term will be used in its restricted and 
 modern sense only. 
 
 The family is a natural society because it is necessary 
 for the continuance of the race, and nature intends 
 that the race should be continued. The family is 
 necessary for the continuance of the race because the 
 child cannot rear itself ; it has to be brought up by 
 others ; and the provision made by nature for attaining 
 this end consists, as we shall see later, in the marriage 
 of the parents and the subjection of the children to 
 their parents. But this double tie of parent to parent 
 and of parent to child originating in natural necessity 
 is cemented by certain natural subjective impulses, such 
 as the love of parent for parent, of parent for child, and 
 of child for parent. And, therefore, the family is 
 natural in the fullest measure, since the ties that bind 
 the parts together are all from nature. 
 
 The end of this natural society of the family is the 
 good of the child, first, its existence, second, its rearing. 
 The family life, of course, is not able to provide every- 
 thing required for the child. The State provides many 
 
 * In 3,11 societies the ruler is possessed of special rights. In this 
 sense all societies are unequal. But an unequal society in the technical 
 sense given above is one in which even the subjects are unequal. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 389 
 
 things. But the family provides at least the things 
 necessary for the daily needs. Hence Aristotle's defini- 
 tion of the family — a society established by nature for 
 the supply of men's every-day wants. 
 
 The efficient cause of the family is to be found in the 
 contract of marriage. Through marriage binding the 
 parents together in an enduring union, the family is 
 brought into existence and maintained in existence. 
 It is the conditions and terms of the marriage-contract 
 that make the family what it is, and bind the lives of 
 father and mother into one life, and that bind both 
 together to the child. It is natural, therefore, that our 
 discussion on the family should centre round the question 
 of marriage on which the family is founded and by which 
 its character is determined. To this question we shall 
 devote the remainder of the present chapter and the 
 chapter to follow. 
 
 On Marriage 
 
 Marriage may be considered in its two-fold aspect of 
 the matrimonial state, and the contractual act whereby 
 that state is begun. We shall here consider marriage 
 in its first sense only, and as such it is defined — a stable 
 union of persons of opposite sexes, made under contract, 
 with a view principally to the birth and rearing of children. 
 In this definition are contained the bare essentials of 
 marriage, i.e. the elements that are required not for 
 marriage at its best, but for marriage simply. It repre- 
 sents ■ the least number of conditions required both in 
 regard to the union itself, and the purpose to which 
 the union is directed, in order that such union may be 
 accounted a marriage. 
 
 These conditions are, first, there must be a union of 
 persons of opposite sexes. Whether this union is 
 necessarily of one man and one woman, or whether 
 marriage allows of a plurality of wives or husbands is 
 a question which we shall consider later in delineating 
 
390 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the properties of marriage. Our present contention 
 which will scarcely be regarded as open to question, for 
 it is defined in the very end of marriage, viz. the birth 
 of children, is that marriage is a union of persons of 
 opposite sexes. Secondly, marriage is a stable union. A 
 mere momentary association of persons of opposite sex 
 even for the purpose of bringing children into existence 
 would not constitute a marriage. The marriage union 
 must be stable, i.e. it must have such a degree of per- 
 manence as is required by the end to which the marriage 
 union is directed. It must last, therefore, at least, as 
 long as is required for the birth and rearing of children. 
 What precisely is the degree of permanence required 
 for marriage, whether it involves life-long permanence, 
 i.e. indissolubility, or whether a shorter period suffices, 
 will be treated in the following chapter. Thirdly, the 
 permanence or stability of the marriage state must be 
 provided for by contract. Merely to remain together 
 from day to day, the parties holding themselves free to 
 separate at any moment, would, as a union, be quite acci- 
 dental, and would not possess the firmness or stability 
 required for the marriage union. Fourthly, the chief 
 aim of marriage is the birth and rearing of children. 
 We speak here of nature's purpose only. It is as means 
 to the birth and rearing of children that nature has 
 established a difference of the sexes, and that marriage 
 as a natural institution exists at all. It is, therefore, 
 the primary natural end of marriage. But granted 
 this primary purpose, then otl\pr and very important 
 secondary purposes, to be enumerated in the following 
 paragraph, take their place under the primary as natural 
 ends of marriage. 
 
 THE ENDS OF MARRIAGE 
 
 Individual persons marry from a great variety of 
 motives — some for money, some for position, some for 
 Ipve. These individual motives are not the object of 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 391 
 
 our discussion here. They are nothing more than 
 subjective accidental ends, and are beSide the essential 
 purposes of marriage. What we are here examining is 
 nature's purpose, the purpose of marriage as a natural 
 institution, or what we may speak of as its objective 
 end. Now, as we have just seen, the chief natural end 
 of marriage consists in the birth and rearing of children 
 (bonum prolis). First, in the birth of children. It is 
 for this end that a difference has been set up in the 
 sexes. There is no relationship in the sexual life that 
 does not finally lead up in nature's scheme to this 
 essential end — the birth of children. But marriage also 
 includes, as part of its essential end, the rearing of 
 children. For the birth of children a brief association 
 of the sexes is all that is required. But the rearing of 
 children requires that enduring union of father and 
 mother which we speak of aS marriage. And this re- 
 quirement is a requirement of nature itself, for nature 
 aims not at the mere momentary existence of children 
 but at their continued existence and their development, 
 and for these the child requires the joint support and 
 care of both its parents. This we shall show in our 
 discussion on the necessity of marriage. 
 
 "But, granted this primary end, nature also, as we have 
 already said, contemplates other secondary ends, which 
 concern not the good of the child but the good of the 
 parents themselves {bonum conjugum) and which are 
 to be regarded as forming an important part of the 
 natural purpose of marriage. These secondary ends 
 all consist in the mutual supplying of those things in 
 which the sexes naturally supplement each other, both 
 on the physical and the psychical side of their respective 
 natures. In the first place marriage provides for the 
 satisfaction of certain sense appetites, not in a lawless 
 manner, but under the conditions required by human 
 reason. Secondly, each requires the other as a help 
 and support in life. In the physical order each requires 
 the other because the work which each is physically 
 
392 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 fitted by nature to perform is different. In the mental 
 and moral sphere their need of each other is even greater 
 still. The perfections, virtues, refinements, the affec- 
 tions and sympathies even, of womankind are not those 
 of men. Marriage provides for the perfect blending 
 of these two sets of tendencies and capacities, in one full 
 human life. It is this bestowal of the gifts naturally 
 proper to each upon the other {mutuum obsequium sihi 
 a conjugibus in rebus domesticis impensum *) that con- 
 stitutes what we have spoken of as the secondary end 
 of marriage. 
 
 THE NECESSITY OF MARRIAGE 
 
 When v/e say that marriage is necessary we do not 
 mean that it is necessary that every person should 
 enter the married state. Under normal conditions, i.e. 
 as long as there is no danger of the race becoming extinct 
 any man may lawfully abstain from marriage. Marriage 
 is a duty that binds the race as such and not the individual 
 as such, for its chief end is the racial and not the individual 
 good. Now just as no man can live by getting other 
 people to eat for him, so the essentials of the individual 
 good are onlj^ to be obtained by the individual's own 
 work or co-operation. But the continuance of the race, 
 just like any other racial good, such as advance in 
 medicine and the arts, requires, not the co-operation of 
 each individual, but only of a certain number sufficient 
 for the purpose. f Marriage, therefore, is not necessary 
 
 * " S. Theol. Suppl." 3 partis, Q.XLI. Art. 1. In Q. LXV- 
 Art. 1. St. Thomas also speaks of these secondary ends of marriage 
 as ^ides or bonum fidei. 
 
 t The difficulty suggests itself — if nature has supphed to every 
 person the faculty of propagati n, how is it that not all men are 
 under an obligation to help in the continuance of the race. The 
 answer is that the mere possession of a faculty imposes no law or 
 duty of its exercise on any individual, but only the right to exercise 
 it. If men were under a duty to exercise every capacity supplied 
 to them by nature then e ery man with a memory for dates would 
 be bound to study history, and every man with an ear for music 
 would be bound to become a musician, and most men would be bound 
 to cultivate every profession, with what results both to the individual 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 393 
 
 in the sense that every person should marry, but it is 
 a natural necessity for those who wish to have and to 
 bring up children,* for in the economy of nature this 
 is the necessary means for obtaining that end. As we 
 shall see presently, the child is not provided for as nature 
 requires by any mere momentary association of the 
 sexes but only by a stable union ; and such a stable 
 union of the sexes is what we speak of as marriage. 
 
 Now, that mere momentary co-habitation, or co- 
 habitation depending for its duration on affection or 
 fancy are not sufficient, on the contrary, that stability 
 of union, as determined by certain inherent laws of 
 marriage, is necessary, will be evident from what we 
 have already said on the ends of marriage. 
 
 In nature's plan the first and fundamental end of 
 the sexual relation is the child. It is for this end that 
 the sexes exist, and this is the natural issue of their 
 union. In this matter nature's design may indeed 
 
 and the professions can be readily imagined. In all this matter the 
 economy of nature is very simple indeed. She provides every person 
 with the full complement of the natural faculties, though not all 
 share them in the same degree, and she leaves it to each to determine 
 along what line he will develop himself and help to promote the 
 common good. Except, therefore, in regard to those things that 
 are necessary for the individual life and which can only be attained 
 by the act of the same individual, nature imposes no law on individuals 
 of exercising any special activity such, for instance, as that of propa- 
 gation. On the contrary, the racial good is in many cases more 
 effectively promoted, and in a higher way, through abstention from 
 marriage on the part of some, as when men remain bachelors in order 
 to cultivate science or from motives of patriotism or in order to 
 become apostles to others. " He," says Bacon, " that hath wife and 
 children hath given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments 
 to great enterprises." And again, " a single Ufe doth well with 
 churchmen, for charity will hardly water the ground where it must 
 first fill up a pool." — Essays. 
 
 * It is equally necessary for those who take those means which, 
 whatever may be the feelings actuating the individuals, by nature 
 are intended to end in the birth of children. And this obligation 
 holds, even though nature's aim should be frustrated by human 
 ingenuity or by some accident. An act which is primarily intended 
 by nature for the attainment of a certain end should not be performed 
 under conditions which oppose this end. And since the end intended 
 by nature in the use of the sexual faculty is the birth and rearing of 
 children the use of that faculty is allowed to those only who are married 
 and are, therefore, in the condition required by nature for the jojnt 
 rearing of the child. See ch, II. of present vol. p. 63. 
 
394 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 sometimes be impeded, eithef by human contrivance or 
 by natural defect, but about the character of nature's 
 design there is no room for doubt. The whole economy 
 of nature in all that relates to the division of the sexes 
 is meant to lead on finally to the child. 
 
 Now our proof that marriage is necessary in the 
 interest of the child will naturally divide itself into 
 three parts. It is necessary to show first [a), that the 
 child, unlike some animals, is not in a position to live 
 or develop from itself ; secondly (6), that the duty of 
 caring for the child devolves essentially on the parents 
 by natural law ; and thirdly (c), that this duty devolves 
 on both the parents. 
 
 {a) It is quite obvious that the child if left to itself 
 in the first years of its existence must simply perish. 
 For continuance in life it depends altogether on the 
 ministrations of others. From itself it can obtain neither 
 food nor clothing or any other thing necessary for its 
 life. And if the ministrations of others are necessary 
 for the life, so also they are necessary for the develop- 
 ment of the child. We are speaking here, not of those 
 higher stages of human development which go to make 
 up what is known as the higher or civilised life, and for 
 which, as we shall show later on, much more is required 
 than mere stability of union between man and woman, 
 but merely of those simpler attainments which might 
 legitimately be expected of the human race at any 
 period of its development, and even these, we claim, 
 the child is not capable of reaching by its own exertions. 
 Even after the first couple of years of its life have passed 
 away, during which the child is utterly helpless and 
 dependent on others for its life, the child is still dependent 
 on others for its growth and development, both in the 
 physical and the mental order. A child of seven or 
 eight years is in no condition to procure a living for 
 itself, whilst the degree of development, mental and 
 moral, attained at that age is not much higher than the 
 level of ordinary animal perfection, and, such as it is, 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 395 
 
 it would quickly be lost again were the child to be 
 abandoned to its own resources. • 
 
 These things will hardly be called in question by any 
 sensible person, for they are obvious truths based upon 
 ordinary reason and experience. But they assume a 
 new significance and become more cogent and instructive 
 when we go on to compare the provision which nature 
 makes for the offspring of animals with the want of 
 natural provision apparent in the case of the child. 
 The young of most animals are, very early in their lives, 
 enabled to dispense with the services of others. Their 
 clothing is from nature ; through their natural instincts 
 and capacities they are soon fitted to acquire the necessary 
 food and to live and move and develop fully from them- 
 selves. The bird that is only a short while out of its 
 nest is physically and psychically almost as perfect as 
 ever it will or could become ; and whatever degree of 
 perfection it may lack at that period will surely come 
 to it later, but automatically as it were, and even without 
 the need of its own co-operation. The child, on the 
 other hand, even after the long period is over during 
 which nutrition can be obtained only from another, is 
 still only at the beginning of the period of growth and 
 development, physical, mental, and moral. To abandon 
 the child before it is physically mature would be equiva- 
 lent almost to depriving it of food, whilst to abandon 
 it even after physical growth is assured, and before at 
 least the minimum degree of mental and moral training 
 has been attained, would be to leave the child, as a 
 human being, stunted and deformed, as truly so as if 
 physically it had failed to grow for want of material 
 nourishment. The child, therefore, is not in a position 
 to live or develop of itself, but is naturally dependent 
 on others, even for many years after it has attained 
 the use of reason. 
 
 (&) From what we have been saying it will be evident 
 that by natural law there devolves on somebody other 
 than the, child a duty of_^caring for the child during a 
 
396 THE SCIENCE OF ETHTCS 
 
 period extending over many years. And that this 
 natural duty devolves in the first instance and essentially 
 on the parent will readily be admitted by any one who 
 considers the position of the parent in regard to the 
 child. For it is the parents who have brought the 
 child into existence and, therefore, on the parent de- 
 volves the duty of providing those things that are 
 necessary for its existence and for its development. A 
 child might, indeed, for a number of reasons pass into 
 the guardianship of another, and be nurtured and 
 educated by that other. Bjit it is on the parent that 
 this duty devolves in the first instance ; and even if 
 others should take up this work, the parent must always 
 be available, ready to aid it at any time, should the 
 child call for his or her presence and assistance. For 
 this is the primary and inalienable natural right of the 
 child — to call upon those who have given it existence 
 for aid and guidance in the infantine and, certainly, also, 
 during the early adult period. 
 
 And in this connection it is important to remember 
 that nature knows nothing of any other guardian for 
 the child than its own parents. The State, for instance, 
 it knows in other capacities as necessary for the defence 
 of the nation or for supplying the means of social pro- 
 gress. But of the State as nurse of the child nature 
 knows nothing. Nature has set up the parents as the 
 proper owners and guardians of the child, first, in the 
 fact that the parents are its natural causes, and secondly 
 by the thousand and one physical and mental ties by 
 which it has bound parent and child into one distinctive 
 natural group. To the mother it has given milk, naturally 
 destined for her own child, beginning, as this fount of 
 nurture does, with the life of the child, and continuing 
 as long as the child requires. Also, both parent and 
 child are supplied by nature with instincts of affection, 
 one for the other, which no other relationship can satisfy 
 or replace. The parent, therefore, is the only guardian 
 known to nature, and, consequently, on the parent 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 397 
 
 devolves the natural duty of rearing and caring for the 
 child. Our argument may be thus briefly expressed : 
 the parent is the cause of the child's existence and, 
 therefore, is charged with caring for its welfare ; the 
 parent is supplied by nature with the essential means 
 required for the rearing of the child, and is thus designated 
 by nature herself as its proper and exclusive guardian. 
 
 (c) We now come to the third and most essential 
 part of our discussion. For if matrimony is to be re- 
 garded as necessary by natural law it will clearly be 
 necessary to show that the duty of caring for the child 
 devolves as much on the father as on the mother — that 
 their joint care is required during the period of their 
 child's tutelage. Now, that the father is charged by 
 nature to form with the mother an enduring union for 
 the sake of their offspring will be evident from the 
 following considerations : first, the father is, equally 
 with the mother, the cause of the child's existence, 
 and, therefore, equally with the mother he is charged 
 by nature with the child's welfare. Moreover, since it 
 was as one joint principle that they gave the child 
 existence, as one joint principle they are bound to 
 care for the child, and, therefore, their duty of caring 
 for the child's welfare is to be fulfilled, not in lives apart 
 and independent, but in a single joint life, lasting as long 
 as the development of the child requires. The father 
 and mother must remain together, bound to one another 
 for their child's sake, as long as the right of the child 
 to call to them for aid and guidance endures. Secondly, 
 without the support of the father, both mother and child 
 will under ordinary conditions find it difficult to survive ; 
 for, as we have already seen, for some time before and 
 after the birth of her child, the mother is not in a position 
 to secure the means of subsistence either for herself or 
 her child. These must be supplied by another, and 
 by what other in nature's plan except that one who is 
 responsible both for the mother's helpless condition and 
 the existence of the child ? A mother might, of course. 
 
39? THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 through her wealth or through the aid of friends, be 
 rendered independent of her husband and be in no 
 actual need of his support. But these are accidental 
 conditions and nature knows nothing of them. Nature 
 knows of one guardian only for wife and child, viz. 
 the father of the child, and the design of nature admits 
 no other in his place. Besides, money and friends may 
 fail. But whether they do or not, no accident of fortune 
 or of condition can rid a man of his responsibility to his 
 child and its mother. 
 
 And in this respect it will again be interesting to 
 examine the economy of nature in regard to the male 
 parent in the animal world, and to see how it com- 
 pares with the attitude which nature assumes in regard 
 to man. Amongst certain animal races, those, viz. in 
 which the male parent is required for the support of 
 offspring, nature has provided a special instinct, whereby 
 male and female remain together until the rearing of 
 offspring is fully accomplished. " The procreation of 
 offspring," writes St. Thomas,* " is common to all 
 animals. But nature inclines to this end in diverse 
 ways in the case of different animals. For there are 
 some animals whose young can at once secure the 
 requisite food, or for the care of which the mother 
 suffices ; and in the case of these nature provides no 
 period of union between male and female. In other 
 cases both parents are required for the sustainment of 
 the young, but for a short time only, and in these cases, 
 e.g. that of some birds, the male remains with the female 
 for a short time. But children require the care of their 
 parents for a long time, and, therefore, the longest 
 period of cohabitation is necessary in the case of human 
 parents." Wherever, therefore, the aid of the male 
 parent is required for mother or child, nature insists 
 upon a corresponding continued union of' the sexes. 
 But the behests of nature are conveyed to each species 
 in a way consonant with the capacities of each. Amongst 
 
 * " S. Theol." 3 partis Suppl. XLI. i. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 399 
 
 such animals as require the support of the male parent, 
 nature has provided an inward naturaf impulse which 
 binds the male and female irresistibly together for the 
 required period. Man, on the other hand, is led by 
 reason and not by instinct merely, and the requirements 
 of nature are realised by him after the manner of a 
 reasoned judgment. But the laws of nature as revealed 
 by reason are as sacred and inviolable as the necessities 
 of nature imposed by way of natural instinct. And, 
 therefore, if a period of union between male and female 
 is prescribed in the case of the animals whenever their 
 young requires their common care, much more is such 
 a union prescribed in the case of human parents, the 
 capacities of the child being so much greater than those 
 of the animal, whilst its power to attain the objects of 
 these capacities without the help of its parents is so 
 much less. 
 
 The co-operation of the father with the mother, is, 
 therefore, necessary during the child's first years. But 
 the obligation of the father does not cease with these 
 first years. His guardianship in later years is as much 
 required as that of the mother, and his powers are 
 naturally supplementary to those of the mother. For 
 nature has given to them very different capacities for 
 the training of the child, and both are necessary to the 
 child's up-bringing. 
 
 Nature, therefore, requires a stable or abiding union 
 of the sexes, and not a mere momentary or shortlived 
 union, or a union lasting only as long as fancy and 
 affection direct. Any such shortlived union would 
 constitute a betrayal of, and a gross violation of nature's 
 requirements in regard to the child. But a stable union 
 of the sexes for the birth and rearing of children is what 
 we mean by matrimony (" haec autem obligatio ad 
 commanendum feminam marito matrimonium facit.".) * 
 And, therefore, matrimony is necessary by natural law 
 in the interest of the child. 
 
 * 3 partis Suppl. LXV. 3. 
 
400 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 THE CAUSES OR SPRINGS OF MARRIAGE 
 
 As we said before, in individual cases a man may 
 marry from any cause or motive, e.g. to obtain money 
 or position, or to benefit a friend. With such individual 
 and accidental causes we have here nothing to do. Our 
 present enquiry relates to the original, intrinsic, or 
 natural causes of marriage or those causes which incline 
 the generality of men to enter, not into U mere temporary 
 union with one of another sex, but into that stable and 
 binding association of the sexes which we speak of as 
 marriage. 
 
 The chief natural cause and spring of marriage un- 
 doubtedly is to be found in the necessity of marriage 
 for the good of the child, and, through the child, of the 
 race. Men in general understand clearly that without 
 marriage the child's life and welfare are not provided 
 for, and that the race must of necessity degenerate and 
 decay. The good of the child is the primary end of 
 marriage ; it wiU also be its chief cause and spring. 
 By this we do not mean that the good of the child con- 
 stitutes always the most prominent psychological motive 
 of action in those about to enter the married state. 
 What we mean is that it is the most important cause of 
 marriage, the cause which would continue to bring 
 about marriages even if other causes ceased to act ; 
 also it is the cause which, if marriages became perilously 
 few, would infallibly compel the rulers of States to 
 intervene and to issue ordinances obliging men to marry. 
 Most men eat for the pleasure of eating and not that 
 they may live. Yet the chief ground and cause of 
 eating is to be found in the necessity of food for the 
 sustainment of life. This is the ground that would 
 remain and would still be operative even if the natural 
 appetite for food failed for any reason. It is so with 
 marriage. Its chief cause and spring is to be found in 
 its chief natural end. 
 
 But, just as in the case of food, so also in the case of 
 
THE FAMILY AKD MARRlAfifi 40i 
 
 marriage, nature has not trusted to logic and reason 
 only, that is, to man's sense of the necessity of observing 
 the natural requirements, for the fulfilment of her aims. 
 Human life, whether of the individual or of the race, is 
 of so great importance that nature could not entrust 
 them to reason or our sense of duty only, whose com- 
 mands men so often fail to appreciate or to heed. Ac- 
 cordingly, just as in the interest of the individual life, 
 she has supplied a special appetite for food whereby 
 eating is made a source of delight, thus securing the 
 individual life, so also for racial continuance she has 
 supplied other special appetites whereby marriage and 
 the family life are made a source of delight, and has 
 thus, independently of man's sense of duty, secured the 
 continuance of the species. 
 
 The first and most powerful of these appetites is that 
 of sexual desire. The second is that of human love, 
 which is far more permanent than the impulse of sex. 
 The third is the need of companionship which of its 
 nature denotes a certain degree of permanence in the 
 alliance of the parties, which need also is most easily 
 and naturally satisfied by those whose gifts and qualities 
 naturally supplement one another as in the case of man 
 and woman. The fourth is the desire described by 
 Aristotle* implanted by nature in men's hearts to leave 
 after themselves a replica or image of themselves. This 
 latter desire may not be prominent in all before marriage 
 but it becomes most prominent after the child is born, 
 in the form of an intense affection for the child as flesh 
 of one's flesh, as, therefore, identical with, or an image of 
 a man's own self. In this, however, the maternal 
 instinct is stronger than the man's, as the economy of 
 nature would lead us to expect/ 
 
 Any one of these four tendencies or needs would of 
 itself suffice to constitute a powerful natural spring 
 leading to the formation of the marriage union as opposed 
 to mere passing sexual relationship ; but their chief 
 
 • " Politics," I. 2. 
 
 VOL. 11 26 
 
402 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 effectiveness lies in their cumulative force, and in the 
 fact that the objects of these needs so easily and so 
 naturally coalesce, the need for companionship being 
 most naturally fulfilled by the person whom love covets 
 for one's own, and the desire for continuance in offspring 
 being most happily met where the image of one's self 
 is also the image of the person loved. In the child is 
 furnished a new sense of identity between man and 
 woman, a sense of identity that waxes stronger as 
 sense love wanes, and, therefore, renders the affections 
 of the parties in later life independent of the vacillations 
 of sense. 
 
 We should add, however, that these special psycho- 
 logical springs are to be regarded as secondary and 
 subordinate only. Were men not convinced of the 
 necessity of marriage for the child and the race, those 
 secondary psychological springs would soon lose their 
 effectiveness, and marriage as a stable union of the 
 sexes would speedily disappear. 
 
 Some opinions of positivisis on the- ground or cause of 
 marriage. 
 
 The space at our disposal will aUow of only the briefest 
 possible reference to the opinions of certain writers who 
 maintain that marriage is not a necessity of nature, and that 
 the introduction of marriage was due, not to the perceived 
 necessity of marriage for the good of the race, but to certain 
 other purely accidental and historical causes. 
 
 Marriage as a stable union is explained by Mr. Wester- 
 marck * as due to two causes — first, natural selection, those 
 races that did happen to favour stable unions defeating 
 in the struggle for existence the races which recognised 
 momentary unions only ; and secondly, the tendency " to 
 feel some attachment to a being which has been the cause 
 of pleasure — in this case sexual pleasure." 
 
 Another theory on the origin and cause of marriage is 
 the view of Lord Avebury f that originally all the women of 
 the tribe belonged to aU the men, that, later, women from 
 
 * " The History of Human Marriage," p. 20. 
 ■f " Marriage Totemism and Exogamy," p. 39. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 403 
 
 other tribes were captured and became the property of their 
 captors. In this way restrictions of sexuai union began to 
 appear which restrictions finally developed into the marriage 
 state. 
 
 A third theory is that defended by Starcke * that marriage 
 began with the desire of men, a desire purely economic in 
 character, to possess a woman or a certain number of women 
 to help in the home, and by bringing up children to their 
 husband to become to him a source of wealth. 
 
 Reply. — Some of these theories presuppose a period of 
 primitive promiscuity, and the answer to them will, therefore, 
 be given in the text -note to follow, in which that theory is 
 considered ; but in all there are certain obvious specific 
 defects which hardly need to be pointed out. Thus the 
 survival theory of Mr. Westermarck ignores the fact that it 
 is only where the paternal care is necessary for offspring 
 that the absence of such care would be a weakness making 
 for defeat and extinction in the struggle for existence. In 
 the case of many species of animals this care is not necessary 
 and such animals exhibit no tendency to disappear. Marriage, 
 therefore, is based on the necessity of the parental care of 
 offspring. Again, Westermarck's second hypothesis of a 
 tendency to feel attachment to a being which has been the 
 cause of pleasure obviously ignores the operation of an 
 opposed and much more powerful tendency, the tendency, 
 viz. to seek out new and fresh loves, which tendency would 
 if not corrected by reason and by pubhc law lead on to 
 promiscuity and not to marriage. Apparently it is some 
 such consideration as this that has led to Mr. Westermarck's 
 abandonment of this second part of his theory in the third 
 edition of his work. Lord Avebury's theory of marriage 
 by capture wiU be criticised later in our review of Exogamy, 
 whilst Starcke's opinion is not regarded by scientific men as 
 of sufficient weight to need refutation. It is wholly 
 imaginative and unscientific. But a good general criticism 
 of all these theories is afforded by the principle that what is 
 absolutely necessary, and known by all to be necessary for 
 the race at present, must always have been necessary and 
 known to be necessary ; and under such circumstances it 
 seems quite an arbitrary and unscientific proceeding to 
 demand any other explanation of the origin or cause of such 
 institutions in the past than man's sense of their necessity. 
 
 * " The Primitive Family," p. 236. 
 
404 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 THE THEORY OF PRIMITIVE PROMISCUITY 
 
 The theory that in the beginning the human race was 
 entirely promiscuous was at one time regarded as hardly 
 open to serious question amongst writers on sociological 
 subjects both in England and on the Continent. But recent 
 investigation into the marriage system of the primitive 
 races has proved so unfavourable to this theory that in 
 1907 Mr. W. H. R. Rivers, in his contribution to the series of 
 anthropological essays presented to Dr. Tylor, was able to 
 state with confidence that it was not now generally accepted 
 by scientific men. " The prevailing tendency," he writes, 
 " in anthropology is against any scheme which would derive 
 human society from a state of promiscuity, whether com- 
 plete or of that modified form to which the term group- 
 marriage is usually appHed." 
 
 Our criticism of this theory, which must necessarily be 
 of the briefest kind, will be divided into three parts. First, 
 a word wiU be necessary on the significance of the theory of 
 primitive promiscuity in moral science ; secondly, a few of 
 the chief arguments available against the theory will be 
 presented ; and finally, we shall answer the chief arguments 
 which have been cited in its favour. 
 
 Its ethical significance. 
 
 The theory of primitive promiscuity, even if it could be 
 completely estabhshed, should not be regarded as disproving 
 our doctrine of the necessity of marriage, or as proof that 
 marriage is accidental in its origin. On the contrary, the 
 necessity of marriage should on this supposition become 
 clearer and more certain. Had promiscuity ever generally 
 prevailed, its abandonment, with all the hberty and pleasure 
 attaching to it, should itself be regarded as affording irre- 
 fragable proof that the race early reahsed that promiscuity 
 was a violation of man's natural requirements, and that 
 unless promiscuity was replaced by marriage the race must 
 speedily decay. 
 
 Disproof of the theory. 
 
 (a) The necessity of some sort of stable union of the sexes 
 in the interest of the child and, indirectly, of the race, is so 
 obvious that it is impossible that at any time men should 
 not have known about it; and if its necessity was widely 
 known it is impossible that the public or social sense of the 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 405 
 
 community should not have sustained marriage as a custom 
 or prescribed it as a tribal law. • 
 
 (b) The present theory assumes the existence of a former 
 legalised state of universal promiscuity continued over a 
 very lengthy period — a state that recommended itself 
 universally to men, and that gradually gave way under laws 
 of development to higher and higher conditions in the sexual 
 relations, until, finally, the condition of marriage prevailed 
 over all. Now the condition of promiscuity is not such 
 as would induce conditions favourable to the development 
 of the high moral sense such as is required for marriage. 
 If missioners find it difficult, as they do, to raise up those 
 licentious races, among whom their apostleship Ues, from a 
 condition not of promiscuity, but of something far higher 
 in the moral scale, how much harder would it be for a great 
 number of promiscuous races existing in every kind of en- 
 vironment to lift themselves out of their low condition and to 
 impose upon themselves the yoke and self-discipline of the 
 matrimonial life. Decline in the moral consciousness of 
 nations is found always to lead away from, not to, respect of 
 the family life. The want of any moral sense in the matter 
 of sexual relation would consequently be most unfavourable 
 to progress towards that life. Our argument, therefore, is 
 that since marriage has come to be a universal law of the 
 race it cannot have sprung out of a condition of promiscuity. 
 
 (c) But not only does promiscuity fail to supply the con- 
 ditions necessary for development, and particularly moral 
 development, it also leads to conditions positively opposed 
 to development of any kind ; for in the first place, under 
 promiscuity the child cannot be cared for as nature requires ; 
 and secondly, promiscuity leads to a condition very un- 
 favourable to fertility. Under ordinary circumstances with- 
 out the help of the father, both mother and child must find 
 it difficult to obtain the necessaries of life. But amongst 
 primitive races these necessities it would be well-nigh im- 
 possible to obtain. For it must be remembered that in the 
 period now under discussion the necessaries of life were ob- 
 tainable only from the chase ; and mothers and. women 
 generally were forbidden to join in the chase even if they were 
 in a condition to do so. " Everywhere," writes Wester- 
 marck,* " the chase devolves on the man, it being a rare 
 exception among savage peoples for a woman to engage in it. 
 Under such conditions a family consisting of mother and 
 young only would probably have succumbed." Secondly, 
 
 ♦ " The History of Human Marriage," p. 39. 
 
4o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 although promiscuity will not entirely prevent the birth of 
 children, it is a well known and established conclusion of 
 science and of experience that promiscuity leads to " a 
 pathological condition very unfavourable to fecundity." 
 Even in the case of ordinary races, therefore, anything even 
 remotely approaching a condition of promiscuity would tend 
 to the extinction of the race, but extinction would be inevitable 
 in the case of belligerent savages to whom survival in the 
 struggle for existence is possible only under conditions 
 favourable to increase of the race. It is clear, therefore, 
 that if promiscuity ever prevailed universally, the tendency 
 must have been, not to development, but to further de- 
 generacy and decay. 
 
 (d) Even if, physically, promiscuity were compatible with 
 the continued existence and developm-^nt of the race, the 
 psychic nature of man, and particularly of the savage, is 
 such as would render the continuance of such a condition 
 impossible even for a brief period. For the nearer the 
 savage approaches the primitive condition the stronger 
 becomes the passion of jealousy, until finally, at the most 
 primitive stage, all ordinary communication between a 
 woman and the rest of the world is almost wholly forbidden. 
 Thus, amongst the primitive tribes of Austraha, according 
 to Westermarck,* a woman is " riot allowed to converse or 
 have any relation whatever with any adult male save her 
 husband. Even with a grown-up brother she is forbidden 
 to exchange a word." Again, the severest penalties are 
 provided even by the poorest races for unfaithfulness on the 
 part of a wife, whilst the most extraordinary precautions 
 are resorted to in order to ensure her fidelity. These pre- 
 cautions and proprieties are hardly to be regarded as com- 
 patible with the prevalence amongst these peoples of pro- 
 miscuity, f 
 
 (e) Finally, we appeal to the now certain fact that marriage 
 is accepted not only amongst all civilised and half-civiUsed, 
 but also amongst the least developed races, that by them it 
 is regarded as the necessary and normal means for the con- 
 tinuance of the race, and that, as already said, the nearer 
 we come to what anthropologists speak of as the primitive 
 stock the more stringent do the marriage laws become. We 
 do not, of course, maintain that amongst savages marriage 
 always exhibits the same perfection that it does with us. 
 
 * op. cit. p. 117. 
 
 t For similar precautions in the case of the Aryan peoples see 
 gchracjer, " Prehistoric Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples," p. 391. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 407 
 
 Some peoples, for instance, favour polygynous marriages. 
 But all races recognise the need of a stable urrton of the parents, 
 and not only for as long as offspring requires but even for a 
 longer period. We do not for a moment deny the possi- 
 bility of promiscuity amongst certain races. Under certain 
 conditions a nation or tribe might sink to any depths. Even 
 St. Thomas Aquinas declared himself willing to accept 
 Cicero's statement as to the existence of promiscuous 
 peoples, remarking that it is not everybody that observes 
 the moral law. But actual investigation has now rendered 
 the universal existence of marriage, even amongst the very 
 lowest races, a practical certainty, so that it is now difficult 
 to think that promiscuity obtains as a legahsed or accepted 
 system amongst any people. " Where marriage," writes 
 Ratzel,* " has been supposed to be absent, even amongst 
 the most promiscuous nomads of the forest and desert, its 
 existence has sooner or later been in every case established." 
 For a full account of the marriage laws and institutions of 
 the primitive races we can here only refer our reader to Mr. 
 Westermarck's work already quoted. Not only does he 
 succeed in proving that marriage is universal amongst these 
 primitive tribes, but also that even the most primitive often 
 exhibit a more rigid adherence to the marriage laws, as they 
 understand these laws, than is the case with many civihsed 
 peoples. 
 
 Twenty or more years, ago many instances were con- 
 fidently quoted by men of the school of Lord Avebury, of 
 peoples amongst whom no trace of marriage existed. More 
 recent investigation has in every case dispelled these early 
 conclusions. We quote, as an instance, the case of the 
 Andaman Islanders who, until Mr. Man's investigations, 
 were believed to be promiscuous but were by him proved to 
 be not only not promiscuous but even strictly monogynous. 
 The general result of these investigations has been, as Mr. 
 Rivers says, most unfavourable to any theory of original 
 promiscuity. " The prevaihng tendency in Anthropology is 
 against any scheme which would derive human society from 
 a state of promiscuity." 
 
 The attempted proofs. 
 
 The arguments developed by various writers in favour of 
 the theory of primitive promiscuity are of two kinds, direct 
 and indirect. The direct arguments are an attempt to 
 
 * " Volkerkunde " (English Translation), I. 114. 
 
4o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 establish from history and positive observation the existence 
 of certain promiscuous races within the historic period, the 
 inference being that these races lead us back to a more 
 distant pre-historic period, when all races must have been 
 promiscuous. The indirect arguments consist in an appeal 
 to certain features in the hfe of certain savage races 
 which are not now promiscuous, which features, however, 
 it is claimed, are clearly survivals from a former period 
 when promiscuity must have prevailed amongst them. 
 
 The direct proof. — ^The present argument need not detain 
 us long, since already it is largely discounted amongst 
 scientific men. The argument is partly based on the 
 testimony of ancient writers such as Herodotus and Pliny 
 who make certain very confident references to distant 
 contemporaneous peoples supposed to be promiscuous. 
 But these testimonies are not now accounted as of very high 
 authority, since these ancient writers had not at their 
 disposal the equipment required for serious investigation 
 into the habits and laws of barbarous peoples. More im- 
 portant is the appeal made to the testimonies of modern 
 travellers who quote many instances of peoples living quite 
 promiscuously and apparently knowing nothing of the 
 marriage institution. The Bushmen of Africa, for instance, 
 are quoted by Lord Avebury as entirely promiscuous ; also 
 the Andaman Islanders already mentioned, the inhabitants 
 of Borneo, and many others. The Ust is a long one and we 
 can scarcely be expected to take up each individual instance 
 quoted in support of the present theory. Nor is it necessary 
 that we should do so. It will be quite sufficient to repeat 
 our statement supported by such an authority as Mr. Rivers 
 that the current of scientific opinion is no longer in the 
 direction of Lord Avebury's theory, and that the cases on 
 which that view was founded are being slowly but surely 
 disproved as opportunities for closer investigation grow and 
 the methods improve. For instance, ihere is the case of 
 the Andaman Islanders, which has already been mentioned, 
 and in regard to which we can cnly refer our reader to Mr. 
 Man's papers on the subject.* These papers show that not 
 only were the Andaman Islanders not promiscuous, but 
 that they were monogynous, that divorce was unknown 
 amongst them, and that fidelity unto death was not the 
 exception but the rule. Again, the appeal of Lord Avebury 
 
 * " Journal of the Anthropological Institute," 1882-3. See present 
 volume, p. 37. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 409 
 
 to the various African races, an appeal based for the most 
 part on the flying visits of travellers, has been completely 
 disproved by the more serious work of recent scientific 
 investigators. " It is certain," writes M. Le Roy,* " that 
 nowhere in Africa do we see any present-day traces of this 
 promiscuity. . . . The more one descends amongst the 
 populations of most primitive general aspect, such as the 
 Pygmies and the San, the more the family appears precisely 
 as the fundamental basis, necessary and indisputable of 
 primitive society." The other cases cited by Lord Avebury 
 are of the same character, and are slowly yielding ground 
 before the continued pressure of serious scientific investigation. 
 The indirect proofs. — Of more importance than the direct 
 are the indirect proofs appealed to in support of this theory 
 of promiscuity, since the appeal here is not to the testimony 
 of ill-informed travellers, but to admitted facts. It is only 
 the interpretation of those facts and the inferences based 
 upon them that will be here called in question. 
 
 (a) The first of these indirect proofs is based on the now 
 generally admitted fact that amongst certain savage tribes 
 descent is through the mother, f The only explanation to 
 be found for such a fact is, according to McLennan, that 
 afforded by the theory of promiscuity, descent through 
 females connoting uncertain paternity, and uncertain pater- 
 nity, when general, being possible only under promiscuity. 
 
 Reply. — Promiscuity is neither necessary nor adequate as 
 an explanation of the matriarchal system. It is not neces- 
 sary because a much more natural explanation is furnished 
 by such facts as the following — ^that the child is more closely 
 related to the mother than to the father ; that in the poly- 
 gynous family each mother constituted with her children a 
 special group, the children of which group could only be 
 distinguished by their connection with their mother ; also 
 that some of the women were privileged over others, and 
 descent should be through the mother if these privileges 
 were to be inherited. Another explanation is that given by 
 M. Le Roy t that it was only in descent through his sister 
 or other blood relation that a chief could secure a successor 
 
 • " La Religion des Primitifs," p. 95. 
 
 t This discovery was first made public by a certain Swiss jurist, 
 Dr. Bachofen, in 1861, in his able work, " Das Mutterrecht." The 
 dis overy was immediately utilised in support of the theory of 
 promiscuity. 
 
 I op, oit. p. 104. 
 
410 THE SCIENCE GF ETHICS 
 
 of the same blood as his own. The children of his own wives 
 might not be his own.* Promiscuity, therefore, is not 
 necessary as an explanation of this system. 
 
 Neither is promiscuity sufficient as an explanation of 
 matriarchate, because, as Spencer points out, the matriarchal 
 system is found to exist where not only is there no trace of 
 promiscuity but " where there is neither polyandry now, 
 nor any sign of its past existence." Matriarchate, therefore, 
 must be due to some other cause than promiscuity and 
 uncertain paternity. | 
 
 (6) An appeal in proof of promiscuity is made in the 
 second place to certain alleged present instances of the 
 " group marriage " system amongst primitive races. It is 
 claimed by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen % that amongst the 
 Urabunna tribe of Central Australia, group marriage exists 
 at the present day, " a group of men of a certain designation 
 having, not nominally, but in actual reality and under normal 
 conditions, marital relations with a group of women of another 
 special designation." " Individual marriage does not exist," 
 it is asserted, " amongst this tribe, either in name or in 
 practice." The inference is that these group marriages are 
 a survival from a former period in the development of the 
 race, that marriage is a development out of promiscuity, 
 the successive steps in the evolutionary series being from 
 sexual relations of all with all, to those of a group with a 
 group, and final to the relation of one with one, which is 
 our present system. 
 
 Reply. — Much light has of late been thrown on the marital 
 system obtaining amongst the Urabunna tribe, and the facts 
 revealed are not in harmony with the theory propounded 
 by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. It is now certain that the 
 Urabunna tribe are not an instance of group marriage. 
 They are an instance of monogynous marriage amongst a 
 
 * This does not mean that amongst such peoples the moral laws 
 were never observed in the relations of the sexes. It means that 
 violations of the law were always possible, and that, therefore, even 
 in a highly moral race the chief could not be absolutely certain of 
 the blood of the child, whereas identity of blood was absolutely 
 necessary for succession. 
 
 Giddings maintains (" Principles of Sociology," p. 266) that the 
 matriarchal system was a result of economic conditions exclusively. 
 
 t Our reasoning here is fully borne out by E. S. Hartland in his 
 work on " Primitive Paternity," vol. T. 325. 
 
 t " Northern Tribes of Central Australia." Also " Native Tribes 
 of Central Australia " (see p. no). 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 411 
 
 people who entertain very loose opinions about the rights of 
 a husband over his wife. In the Urabunna tribe each woman 
 is really wife to one man only, who is her husband in strict- 
 ness (Nupa), but who regards himself as entitled by his 
 position as husband to hand his wife over, not to any man, 
 but to any one man of a particular group who are spoken of 
 as Piranguru to this woman. These men have all a claim 
 to her, but this claim can only be exercised with the consent 
 of her real husband — her Nupa. The evidences, then, all 
 go to show that, so far from the Urabunna custom constituting 
 a step in the evolutionary series upwards from promiscuity 
 to monogyny, it is rather to be regarded as a degradation 
 from a former system of pure monogyny, caused probably 
 by some general process of moral decadence within the tribe, 
 coupled, as Mr. Thomas suggests,* with the difficulty, so 
 often experienced in Australia, of obtaining wives. A 
 similar condition of things obtains, we are told by Mr. 
 Howitt.f amongst the Dieri tribe of South East Australia. 
 There an individual girl is betrothed as special wife (Tippa- 
 malku) to one man ; but she can be handed over by her 
 Tippa-malku husband, i.e. her true husband, to some one 
 (Pirrauru) of a particular group of a definite designation. 
 It is not, therefore, an instance of group marriage proper. 
 The Dieri custom is nothing more than what Mr. Lang calls 
 it — a " legahsed paramourship." "Pirrauru," he tells us,| 
 " is no more a survival of, and a proof of, primitive 
 promiscuity than is the legalised incest of ancient Egypt 
 and ancient Peru." 
 
 (c) Thirdly, it is asserted that amongst certain peoples 
 who do not now practise group marriage, certain survivals 
 of that system still remain in the mode of address obtaining 
 amongst the members of the tribe. We are thus, it is 
 maintained, brought back to that remote period when 
 group marriage itself was -evolved out of the promiscuous 
 condition. We are told, for instance, by Messrs. Fison and 
 Howitt § that the Kamilaroi people of South Australia are 
 divided into a certain number of groups, groups of men and 
 
 * " Kinship Organisation and Group Marriage in Australia," by 
 N. W. Thomas, p. 138. 
 
 t " The Native Tiibes of S.E. Australia." 
 
 { Article, " The Family," in Ency. Britt. 
 
 § " Kam.laroi and Kurnai." The four groups referred to in the 
 text are Ipai (the men) and Ipatha (the women) : Kubi and Kubitha ; 
 Muri and Matha ; Kumba and Butha. Ipai marries Kubitha, Kubi 
 marries Ipatha ; Muri marries Butha, Kumbu marries Matha, 
 
412 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 groups of women, that each man of a particular group 
 refers to each woman of a certain other group, that, viz. 
 into which he can marry, as " wife," the inference being, 
 that though now each man is not individually married to 
 all the women of the group, he is married to all by organic 
 law, and that formerly he was individually married to all. 
 The present mode of address, therefore, is only a survival 
 from the ancient practice of group marriage, which itself 
 succeeded promiscuity. 
 
 Reply. — ^The simplest explanation of these relationships 
 is that they are relationships of nomenclature only. It is 
 true that the men of a particular group can marry only 
 into another definite group of women. What could be more 
 natural than that the women of that group should be 
 designated by a special name distinguishing them from all 
 other groups and defining their special relation to the men 
 in question. Naturally, since each woman of that group, 
 and that alone, is potentially the wife of any individual of a 
 certain man group, she would be spoken of as wife by that 
 group. But this explanation is not of the nature of an 
 hypothesis merely. It is based upon what is definitely 
 known of the nomenclature adopted by certain other tribes, 
 as will now be shown. 
 
 {d) We now come to the final argument quoted in favour 
 of the theory of primitive promiscuity that, viz. afforded 
 by the well-known classificatory systems of relationship 
 described by Mr. Lewis Morgan * as obtaining amongst a 
 large number of savage peoples. These systems are indeed 
 very varied, but there are evidences that they are aU variants 
 of a single original classificatory system. One example will 
 suffice to describe the phenomenon in question. Amongst 
 the Hawaians, Kingsmill Islanders, and Maoris, the people 
 of the tribe are classified into five categories, according to 
 generation. One's brothers, sisters, cousins, i.e. all of one's 
 own generation, are spoken of as brothers and sisters. One's 
 father, mother, and their brothers, sisters, cousins, etc. are 
 spoken of as parent. The generation beyond those are all 
 spoken of as grand-parent. One's sons, daughters, and 
 their cousins, etc. are spoken of as one's children, the next 
 generation as one's grand-children. The system, Morgan 
 
 * In his works, " Ancient Society " and " Systems of Consanguinity 
 and Affinity oi the Human Family." We have to apologise for the 
 unavoidable brevity of our reference to Mr. Morgan's lengthy and 
 a,ble volumes. 
 
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 413 
 
 maintains, can only be explained as a survival from a period 
 when all the men of one generation were the husbands of 
 all the women of the same, one consequence of which would 
 be uncertain paternity. Each father, not knowing his own 
 children, would simply describe all the children of the next 
 generation as his children. 
 
 Reply. — Morgan's explanation of the classificatory system 
 is not only not justified by the premises and exceedingly 
 far-fetched, but it does not even harmonise with the premises. 
 It is not demanded by the premises because the facts can be 
 explained more rationally on other grounds. The classifica- 
 tory system is simply one of nomenclature ; and the term 
 parent, child and grand-child denote generations merely, 
 not relationships.* To age, amongst savage nations, there 
 attaches a social importance far greater than amongst 
 civihsed people, and so it is natural that the tribe should be 
 marked off primarily into groups according to generation. 
 Indeed, this same form of address obtains to a certain extent 
 even amongst civilised peoples, who certainly are not given 
 to group marriages, and with them certainly it is meant to 
 denote generations only. In Spain a brother's grandson is 
 called grandson. f In Bulgaria and Russia a father's father's 
 brother is known as grandfather. To postulate a period of 
 group-marriages and consequent uncertain paternity in order 
 to explain a similar phenomenon in the case of savage tribes 
 seems not a little absurd. 
 
 But the hypothesis here is not only unnecessary, it also 
 contravenes the facts to be explained. For, granted, for 
 the sake of argument, that the children of one generation 
 spoke of all the men of the preceding as their fathers on 
 the ground that any of them might be their father, they 
 certainly could not speak of all the women of that genera- 
 tion as their mother on the ground that any of them might 
 be their mother. If paternity is uncertain maternity cannot 
 be, and yet, the individuals of each generation speak of the 
 women of the preceding generation as their parents. It is 
 evident, therefore, that uncertain parentage and the group- 
 marriage system which it implies cannot be accepted as 
 an explanation of the present nomenclature whatever else 
 may be. 
 
 In conclusion we may be permitted to remark that argu- 
 ments based on supposed survivals are always dangerous, 
 
 * See Starcke, " The Primitive Family," p. 207. 
 t Westermarck, op. cit. p. 90. 
 
414 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 but in connection with the question of marriage they have 
 been pushed to ridiculous extremes. " Nowhere " (else), 
 writes Howard,* than in connection with this province 
 " can there be found rasher inference and more sweeping 
 generalisations from inadequate data." The evidence ad- 
 duced affords not the slightest ground for behef in the exist- 
 ence of a former general period of group marriages, much 
 less of promiscuity. " It is not, of course, impossible," writes 
 Westermarck, t " that among some peoples intercourse 
 between the sexes may have been almost promiscuous. 
 But there is not a shred of genuine evidence for the notion 
 that promiscuity ever formed a general stage in the social 
 history of mankind." Indeed, our only wonder is how in a 
 sphere of conduct in which the incentives to evil are so 
 many and powerful, and deterioration is so easy, these 
 benighted children of Adam should have so long maintained 
 the high standard of practice which characterises most 
 primitive races in reference to marriage, and, how, whatever 
 their practices might be before marriage, they have always, 
 at least in theory and in their laws, rated the purity of the 
 hearth as the highest and most sacred requirement of their 
 tribal life. 
 
 * " Hist, of Mat. Institutions," I, 9. 
 t op. cit. p. 133. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 
 
 Before proceeding to determine the requirements of 
 natural law in regard to marriage it will be necessary to 
 repeat our explanation of natural law given in the first 
 volume of this work, and to enlarge upon it according to 
 the requirements of the subject now in hand. By 
 natural law in the sphere of human action is meant the 
 necessity of taking whatever means are required for the 
 attainment of the natural necessary ends. That some 
 ends are natural and necessary is evident from the fact 
 that in man there are certain recognised natural needs 
 such as the need for life, for food, for happiness, which 
 natural needs are aU based upon the existence in man 
 of specific natural appetites for the attainment of these 
 ends. Every man naturally desires life, food, happiness. 
 The things that are naturally necessary for the attain- 
 ment of these ends are said to be prescribed by natural 
 law. 
 
 Now natural laws vary in order and importance 
 according to the importance of the ends which they 
 severally concern. Life, for instance, is more important 
 than education, and, therefore, the need of life and the 
 law prescribing its maintenance are of more importance 
 than the need of education and the laws resting on that 
 need. Again, even a single end like life may give rise 
 to different kinds of laws since some things are absolutely 
 essential to life itself, whilst other things are necessary 
 only for the better or healthier life. To eat is necessary 
 for life ; to eat good food and at the proper times and in 
 right quantities is necessary for the better and healthier 
 life. These differences in degree of importance in the 
 
 415 
 
4i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 natural ends give rise to a distinction in laws which is 
 of the greatest importance in Ethical science, viz. 
 primary and secondary laws. Speaking in a very general 
 way we may say that the primary laws are those laws 
 which prescribe the things necessary for the most 
 essential ends, the secondary laws prescribe what is 
 necessary for the less important ends. But these defini- 
 tions will later need modification, and a much clearer 
 view of what they severally imply will be gained from 
 our treatment of the subject at present in hands, viz. 
 the attributes of marriage, a subject which we now go 
 on to discuss. 
 
 Already we have distinguished the ends of marriage 
 into primary and secondary. The primary and im- 
 mediate end of marriage is the birth and rearing of 
 children. The secondary and subordinate end consists 
 in the happiness and good of the parents. Those laws 
 that provide for the attainment of the primary end 
 will naturally be of more consequence than those that 
 concern the secondary end, and this difference in 
 importance will be fully allowed for in the division of 
 laws * which is presently to be made. 
 
 But even in regard to the primary end there is room 
 for differences in the natural laws. For not everything 
 in the primary end itself is of the same importance with 
 the rest. The essentials of the primary end are more 
 important than its higher perfections. It is more im- 
 portant to rear the child than to rear it in the best and 
 most perfect way, as, for instance, by a good education 
 and by surrounding it with all that makes for natural 
 refinement. The substance must come before the per- 
 fections of the substance, else there is nothing to perfect. 
 Now some things are so necessary in the relations of the 
 sexes that without them the primary end of marriage 
 cannot be attained even in its bare essentials, or at least 
 the attaining of these essentials is very much impeded, 
 
 * The division of primary and secondary ends is not quite co- 
 extensive with primary and secondary laws as will presently be seen. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 417 
 
 Other things are necessary only for the refinements, the 
 perfections of the primary end. 
 
 We have, then, three degrees of necessity falling under 
 the natural law. First, there are those means that are 
 necessary for the attainment of the primary end in its 
 bare essentials. Without these the designs of nature 
 cannot be attained at all or are much impeded. The 
 omission of those means is directly opposed to the 
 essentials of the primary end. Then, secondly, there 
 are those means that are necessary for the attainment 
 of the primary end in its ■perfection. Thirdly, there are 
 means that are necessary for the attainment of the 
 secondary ends. The first class of means is said to be 
 necessary for the " very being " of the thing ; the 
 second and third class are said to be necessary for its 
 better or more perfect or more developed being, and by 
 the better being in this connection we mean to signify 
 not the better being prescribed by religion or by positive 
 law, but the better being contemplated by nature herself, 
 or what Prof. Bosanquet calls,* " the flower and crown 
 of the possibilities inherent in the natural conditions of 
 a thing." Without the first of these three sets of means 
 nature's purposes would remain wholly unfulfilled ; 
 without the second and third, though the fundamental 
 essentials of the natural law are not opposed, the level 
 of excellence attained falls very far short of nature's 
 standard. 
 
 As in connection with the natural law generally, so 
 also in regard to marriage, we have to distinguish two 
 different classes of law or precept. The primary laws, 
 as we saw, deal with what is of prime importance ; 
 they deal, therefore, with the essentials of the primary 
 end, prescribing those things without which the essentials 
 of the primary end cannot be attained, and forbidding 
 those things which oppose the essentials of the primary 
 end, that is, those things which either render the essentials 
 
 * " Philosophical Theory of the State," p. 32. 
 VOL. II — 27 
 
4i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 unattainable or seriously impede their attainment.* 
 The secondary laws deal with what is necessary for the 
 things of subordinate or lesser importance ; they pre- 
 scribe, therefore, what is necessary for the attainment 
 of the secondary ends and for the full and perfect ac- 
 complishment of the primary end. Applying these 
 distinctions to marriage — anything in the marriage 
 union which prevents or seriously, and from its nature, 
 impedes the birth of children or the essentials of rearing f 
 is forbidden by the primary principles of the natural law ; 
 anything in the marriage union which of its nature 
 opposes the more perfect rearing of the child or the 
 welfare of the parents is forbidden by the secondary 
 principles of the natural law. 
 
 This distinction is of the greatest importance in de- 
 termining validity. In a system where natural law 
 alone obtains, any union of the sexes which is capable of 
 fulfilling the primary laws of nature in regard to marriage 
 is to be considered a genuine marriage. A union which 
 violates these primary laws is no marriage, but only 
 simple concubinage. But unions that merely fail to 
 accord with the secondary laws of nature in either of 
 the two senses mentioned, though possible (in a system 
 where only natural law obtains), in as much as they 
 fulfil the bare essentials of nature, are yet to be regarded 
 as forbidden by nature, as falling below the standard 
 which nature prescribes. " Man and woman," writes 
 Aristotle, I " do not form a marriage for the sake of life 
 (only) but for the sake of a perfect (or better) life." 
 Under no circumstances could nature tolerate those 
 unions that violate the primary laws ; they are an offence 
 against nature in its deepest and most fundamental 
 
 * " S. Theol," 3 partis suppl. Q. LXV. Art. i ad 8 ; also Q. LIV. 
 Art. 3. These primary laws obviously also lorbid anything involving 
 a reversal of the essential relation of subjection of child to parent, 
 e.g. the marriage of parent and child, a relation which would demand 
 equality, not subjection. 
 
 t This rearing must be in the way prescribed by nature, i.?, rearing 
 by father and mother together. See Q. LXV. Art. i ad 8, 
 
 \ " Econ." I. c. 3, I 43b, 18, 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 419 
 
 requirement. Only in very special cases (y^e still suppose 
 that revealed religion does not intervene) could unions 
 that violate the secondary natural principles be allowed, 
 where, viz. if they are not tolerated greater evils will 
 follow. 
 
 The Unity of Marriage 
 
 By the unity of marriage is meant the marriage of 
 one man with one woman ; or, that a man cannot 
 simultaneously have more than one wife, or a woman 
 more than one husband. In all civilised countries 
 marriage is understood to be a union of one man with 
 one woman, and to attempt to contract a new marriage 
 before the expiration of the first is a crime punishable 
 by law. This law prescribing unity of marriage, though 
 largely founded on the requirements of the Christian 
 religion, is not to be regarded as wholly grounded on 
 religion, for the unity of marriage is also a requirement 
 of nature, and both reason and experience have long 
 since demonstrated its necessity. But the question for 
 us is how unity is to be regarded as a natural attribute 
 of marriage, and in what sense, and on what titles, and 
 whether in a system where revealed religion does not 
 intervene, a plurality of wives or husbands might ever 
 be allowed. In answering this question we shall have 
 to consider the unity of matrimony from its two sides, 
 that of the woman and that of the man. We shall 
 first inquire whether and how far monogyny or the pos- 
 session of one wife only is prescribed by natural law, 
 then whether monandry ,or the possession of one husband 
 only is of natural law. 
 
 Monogyny versus Polygyny.* 
 
 That monogyny is not absolutely necessary for the 
 obtaining of the primary end of marriage, i.e. the birth 
 
 * By derivation the words monogamy, bigamy, polygamy relate 
 neither to husbands nor to wives in particular but to either indifferently. 
 ' ' Polygjmy " is now the term most frequently used to denote, as its 
 
420 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and rearing of children, is a proposition that will easily 
 be accepted by any thinking person, and, therefore, it 
 follows that monogyny is not required by the primary 
 laws of nature. Not only can children be born under 
 the polygynous system but that system places no 
 hindrance to their birth. They can be born to each 
 mother, and each mother's family may be numerically 
 as large as if her union with her husband were of the 
 monogynous type. The rearing of the children, too, 
 so far as the essentials of rearing are concerned, is pos- 
 sible under this polygynous system. The child can be fed 
 and nurtured, and to some extent instructed also, by 
 both its parents. Polygynous marriages, therefore, under 
 the law of nature * may be true and valid marriages, and, 
 therefore, their more or less wide-extended occurrence 
 is to be expected amongst those races that are satisfied 
 with the minimum requirements of nature, races that 
 have no care for that higher or more developed 
 life which is attainable even within the order of 
 nature. 
 
 But the efficacy of the polygynous family stops short 
 at these primary and fundamental requirements of 
 natural law. The birth of children is no doubt secured 
 as perfectly under this system as in the monogynous 
 family, but the rearing of the children, which, as we saw, 
 is also a part of the primary end of marriage, can be 
 realised in its essentials only, whilst most of the secondary 
 ends of marriage can scarcely be attained at all. 
 
 For a reason which will presently be explained, we 
 propose to consider in the first place the polygynous 
 
 derivation implies, having many wives. It seems, then, absurd to 
 use, as Westermarck does, as the correlative of this the term " mono- 
 gamy " to express the single wife-union. We, therefore, make bold 
 in the present volume to adopt a usage which has at all events the 
 advantage of following a uniform rule, viz. we shall use " monogyny " 
 to signify union with one woman ; " polygyny," to signify union 
 with many women. 
 
 * i.e. in circumstances where only the natural law obtains, and, 
 therefore, abstracting from the requirements of the Christian religion 
 in regard to marriage. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 421 
 
 union in its relation to the secondary ends of marriage 
 — the bonum conjugum.* Under this term is included 
 everything (outside the mere possession of children) that 
 goes to make up what we speak of as matrimonial bliss 
 as between husband and wife — the happiness possible 
 to them in the whole sum of their connubial relations, 
 from the simplest and most indispensable, up to the 
 highest and most refined. Now, our contention is that 
 in the polygynous marriage the conditions are not such 
 as make for the happiness of husband and wife (par- 
 ticularly of the latter), for mutual confidence and under- 
 standing, for self-respect in the mother, or for anything 
 that befits her dignity as a human person. In the 
 first place there can be no equality between husband 
 and wife where the husband is in a position to claim all 
 the service and attention of the wife, whilst she can only 
 divide the attention of her husband with many others. 
 Now, the woman, though she may owe obedience to her 
 husband, is, nevertheless, as a human being, his equal 
 in every way. By nature she is directed to the same 
 end ; by nature she is endowed with the same faculties, 
 and, therefore, she must not be treated as, in the order 
 of nature, a means only or as inferior. In the poly- 
 gynous union, on the other hand, the woman is not, and 
 cannot be treated in any other way than as an inferior. 
 In no way can she take her place in the family as the 
 equal of her husband. Before her children and the 
 world she stands in the position little better than that 
 of the slave. 
 
 And this sense of inequality and inferiority extending 
 over her whole life, and entering into every relation of 
 her life, will of itself exercise a most deleterious effect 
 on the mother, and degrade her not only in her own 
 estimation, but also in actual fact ; for its tendency 
 will be to suppress in her every natural feeling of self- 
 respect, and every desire for the higher things from 
 
 * The rearing of the child, which is part of the primary end, will 
 be considered in the second place. 
 
422 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 which the mother of the monogynous family derives so 
 much of her dignity and her influence for good. 
 
 Secondly, where husband and wife are so unequal, 
 love, and by this we mean human love, with all that 
 differentiates it from the mere animal sexual impulse, 
 is of necessity absent, or present in shadow only. As we 
 said before, it is an inseparable characteristic of human 
 love to claim the person loved wholly for oneself, to 
 honour the person loved, and to desire a return of love 
 equal to one's own.* In a polygynous family, it will 
 not be necessary to show, such love is wholly impossible. 
 In the polygynous union the wife cannot be loved as an 
 equal, and her husband is not exclusively her own. 
 The essential conditions and characteristics of human 
 love are excluded by the very terms of the polygynous 
 union, and, therefore, if affection is present at all, it 
 can only be of the sense order, such as the brute animals 
 entertain. It follows that in such a union all those 
 finer and more tender kinds of love that are proper to 
 the human kind will be left untried ; the rich fields of 
 affection that lie outside the region of mere brute sense 
 will be left all uncultivated. In her intercourse with 
 her husband a woman so conditioned will be wounded 
 every day in her tenderest sensibilities. She will be a 
 slave rather than a wife. " Polygyny," writes Wester- 
 marck, "is an offence against the feelings of woman, 
 not only amongst highly civilised peoples, but even 
 among the rudest savages." 
 
 Thirdly, in a polygynous family, the passion of jealousy 
 must necessarily be present, with disastrous effects upon 
 all that go to make up the polygynous household. 
 Mother will vie with mother for a place in the affections 
 and attentions of their common husband, and each will 
 claim the higher functions of the household as her own.f 
 
 * Aristotle, " Nic. Eth." VIII. 6, 2 ; IX. 10, 5 ; VIII. 2, 3. The 
 woman in this case cannot claim her husband wholly for lierself, is 
 not held in honour, cannot aspire to a love the equal of her own. 
 
 t " Communicatio plurium," writes St. Thomas, 3 partis Suppl. 
 LXV. I, "in uno officio causat litem." 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 423 
 
 And she will be moved, it is important to remember, 
 to this rivalry and to defend her position in the house- 
 hold, not from unworthy motives only, but from a 
 sense of her duty to herself as mother, and to her 
 children, who in justice should not be allowed to fall 
 into an inferior place in the household as compared with 
 the rest. She will be moved, therefore, by her duty, 
 to suspicion and jealousy. And this passion of jealousy 
 will grow to more intense effect, as each woman finds 
 herself superseded in turn by younger and newer wives, 
 and it will communicate itself to every part of the family, 
 or rather to the various parts of that series of competing 
 and antagonistic families which the system of polygyny 
 binds so closely but so artificially together. It is clear 
 then that in the polygynous family the bonum conjugum, 
 the happiness and contentment of the parents, is not 
 to be obtained. 
 
 But it is impossible in viewing the secondary ends of 
 matrimony to confine our attention to the effects of 
 polygyny on husband and wife alone. For husband 
 and wife are a part of human society generally, and 
 matrimony more than any other natural institution 
 has to do with the welfare of human society. But 
 every one of the evils which have just been enumerated 
 will be reflected outside the family life in that larger 
 social environment of which families are the immediate 
 constituent parts. For the character of society is the 
 character of the aggregate of the units that make it 
 up. If the family generally is divided against itself, 
 and wanting in love, in dignity, in enthusiasm for the 
 better things of life and for the natural ideals, the tone 
 of human society generally will be low, its fibre weak, 
 and instead of providing an environment suitable for 
 development it wiU itself go far to hinder development 
 both on the part of the individual and of the family. 
 
 It will now be readily understood why in our criticism 
 of polygyny we treated of the secondary ends of matri- 
 mony in the first place and not of the primary end. 
 
424 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 which includes not merely the birth but the rear- 
 ing of children. We wanted to show how the 
 unhappy conditions which polygyny sets up in the 
 relations of the parents and in the social environment 
 in which the child exists reflect themselves in the 
 child. This we now go on to show. Apart, of course, 
 from these reflected conditions, the rearing of children 
 has under the polygynous system its own inherent 
 difficulties. The children born to any one mother 
 must almost of necessity fall to her care exclusively. 
 The father may supply the necessities of life but 
 he will supply nothing else. The care, the love, the 
 forethought, the anxiety that are possible in the mono- 
 gynous family will be impossible to a father whose 
 attention is divided amongst so many groups. And 
 what reason tells us is likely to be the result, history 
 records as the actual universal accompaniment of the 
 polygynous system. Where polygyny prevails, there 
 the child falls to the care of the mother alone. And to 
 what kind of mother is the exclusive care of the child 
 thus unfortunately committed ? To one who is left 
 without self-respect or pride, whose position in the 
 family grows weaker as the years pass, who stands out 
 before her child as impotent to control or to command 
 the love or attention of him who is the co-principle with 
 her of the child's life. Under polygyny the child is, 
 indeed, handicapped from the start, both on the side 
 of its father and of its mother. 
 
 But in addition to this there are all the reflected evils 
 of the family environment in which the child is reared. 
 The degraded condition of the mother, the absence of 
 home-love and understanding, the atrophy from want 
 of exercise of all the finer human affections, the iU- 
 assorted groups of families into which the child's lot 
 is thrown, their perpetual and growing antagonisms, 
 the loose and degraded condition of society formed of 
 such groups, all these will reflect themselves in the 
 child's life and character, and are obstacles to his perfect 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 425 
 
 rearing. It will, of course, be said th^t all these evils 
 may occur even in the monogynous family. We answer : 
 yes, but there they occur, not as a result of monogyny, 
 but for some other reason, and, therefore, -per accidens. 
 They cannot be regarded as inherent in the monogynous 
 system. But the results which we have been describing 
 are inherent and necessary effects of polygynous unions, 
 and, we may add, they would remain its characteristic 
 and inherent effects, even though by accident and by 
 taking precautions it might be possible to avoid them 
 in particular cases.* The natural law is determined 
 not by accidents and exceptions, but by general ten- 
 dencies and requirements alone. 
 
 Polygyny, therefore, though in consonance with the 
 essentials of the primary end of marriage, is opposed to 
 the secondary ends and to the perfect attainment of 
 the primary end. Consequently, though allowed by the 
 primary laws of marriage, it is forbidden by the second- 
 ary laws. 
 
 Monandry versus Polyandry. 
 
 We now turn to the question of monandry and poly- 
 andry, or whether a plurality of husbands is compatible 
 with natural law. A little consideration will make it 
 clear that the condition of things obtaining in the poly- 
 andric union is quite different from that obtaining under 
 polygyny. Under polygyny the secondary ends of 
 matrimony are not obtainable ; neither is the primary 
 end obtainable in its perfection. And so polygyny was 
 adjudged to be incompatible with the requirements of 
 the better or more developed life. But under polygyny 
 
 * As a rule amongst savages only the rich are polygynous. Their 
 wives might, therefore, remain partially content with their position 
 because by their marriage they are placed above the rest of the women. 
 Also a man, as a rule, allies himself to two or at most three wives only. 
 But the effect of polygyny — its essential efiects — are seen most 
 clearly under polygyny " writ large," that is, where the whole of 
 society is polygynous and each man has many wives ; and in such a 
 system certainly the lot of both mother and child is poor and unhappy. 
 
426 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the main purpose, the primary end of marriage in its 
 essential features is quite attainable. For each child can 
 be reared and cared for by its father and mother in 
 joint endeavour and in the one home. Under polyandry, 
 on the other hand, neither the primary nor the secondary 
 ends of marriage are attainable, as will be clearly seen 
 from the reasoning now to follow. 
 
 That the secondary ends of marriage, and the per- 
 fections of the primary end, that is, all that goes to make 
 up the better or perfect family life, are not obtainable 
 under polyandry, it is unnecessary to attempt to prove. 
 The polyandric family is nothing more than a hideous 
 and revolting union, in which neither love, nor respect, 
 nor dignity of mother or father (particularly of the 
 latter), nor any of the nobler qualities of soul are attain- 
 able or conceivable. The polyandric family is lower 
 and more horrible even than promiscuity, for the poly- 
 andric family connotes not only the power to accomplish, 
 but also the right to accomplish everything that makes 
 promiscuity hideous. Under promiscuity a woman may 
 escape some, at all events, of the horrors of the system. 
 In the polyandric union she can escape nothing. In 
 such a union it is her duty, if we might say so, to sink 
 to every unspeakable depth. What need then can there 
 be to discuss in regard to such a union the higher re- 
 quirements, the perfections of soul obtainable, the 
 refinements ensured ? 
 
 Consequently we go on to show that polyandry is 
 opposed to the primary laws of nature. It is opposed 
 to the primary laws because it is opposed to the primary 
 end of marriage, viz. {a) the birth and (6) the rearing 
 of children. 
 
 (a) That polyandry does not accord with the require- 
 ments of nature in regard to the birth of children will 
 be evident from the following two arguments, one 
 negative, the other positive in character. 
 
 Polyandry can form no part of nature's economy or 
 system, since it in no way furthers nature's primary 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 427 
 
 end, i.e. it in no way helps to increase the race, which 
 is the most iniportant element in the primary end of 
 matrimony. Within certain limits the greater the 
 number of women possessed by a man the greater the 
 number of children that can be born to him. But a 
 woman cannot bear more children by having many 
 husbands than by having one. And, therefore, poly- 
 andry, unlike polygyny, can form no part of the economy 
 or system of nature, in regard to the propagation of the 
 race. Nature has no use for such a union, and conse- 
 quently it lies completely outside the natural order. 
 But although the polyandric union lies completely outside 
 the scheme of nature, it does not lie outside the reach of 
 nature's condemnation. For if the polyandric union in 
 no way furthers nature's purposes, it, nevertheless, 
 offers to the parties the milieu in which the matrimonial 
 privileges attaching to these purposes may be utilised 
 and exercised. In other words, in the polyandric union 
 the privileges and pleasures attaching by natural design 
 to the propagation of the race are taken full advantage 
 of, whilst at the same time nature is cheated of that 
 great and important end for which alone these privileges 
 and pleasures were devised, viz. increase of the race. 
 Polyandry is, therefore, not only not a part of nature's 
 scheme, or recognised by nature in any way, it is 
 positively discountenanced and repudiated by nature 
 as an unwarranted encroachment upon her fruits and 
 privileges. 
 
 But the polyandric union not only in no way furthers, 
 it actually sets up a positive impediment to the birth 
 of children. Under polyandry the birth of children is 
 not, indeed, to be regarded as wholly prevented, since 
 the simultaneous conception of different children from 
 different fathers is physiologically a possible occurrence. 
 But such an occurrence would certainly be perilous to 
 one or other or both the offspring, and, therefore, the 
 polyandric union is at least to be regarded as an impedi- 
 ment to propagation, as making difficult the continuance 
 
428 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of the race. Besides, it is a well-known fact that a 
 plurality of husbands tends to set up in woman an 
 habitual inability to conceive ; as Sir Henry Maine ex- 
 presses it, it sets up a " pathological condition un- 
 favourable to fecundity," * and in this way the poly- 
 andric union places not only a temporary but even an 
 habitual impediment to propagation. Of course, to 
 some extent it would be possible to obviate these diffi- 
 culties by turning the polyandric union into a series of 
 monandric unions each lasting for a year ; but such 
 unions would really be monandric,f not polyandric, 
 and the only ethical question that would arise con- 
 cerning them is whether a union of one man and one 
 woman, lasting for a year only, satisfies the law of nature 
 in regard to marriage. The polyandric union proper 
 means the simultaneous possession of many husbands, 
 and such union is opposed to the primary laws of nature, 
 for of its nature it impedes the birth of children. 
 
 (b) But if in the polyandric union the birth of children 
 is seriously impeded, the rearing of children in the way 
 required by natural law is rendered wholly impossible. 
 For by natural law the child should be reared by the 
 father and mother who brought it into existence, whereas 
 under the polyandric union no father is in a position to 
 rear his child, since by natural necessity he is unable to 
 know his child. And if the father cannot know his 
 child, so the child cannot know its father ; and, there- 
 fore, he is deprived of the right to call upon his father 
 for aid and guidance, a right to which nature strictly 
 entitles him. 
 
 Being opposed, therefore, to the primary end in its 
 very essentials, and violating, as a consequence, the 
 requirements of the primary laws of nature, the poly- 
 andric union is absolutely forbidden by natural law, 
 and can in no case be sustained. St. Thomas' brief 
 
 ' * Dissolute women have, as a rule, no children. 
 
 t It is in tliis way that the polyandric races of Thibet have managed 
 to survive. See Westermarck, op. cit. p. ii6. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 429 
 
 but simple exposition may now be quoted. " Unam 
 uxorem habere plures viros est contra prima principia 
 legis naturae, eo quod per hoc quantum ad aliquid 
 totaliter tollitur et quantum ad aliquid impeditur bonum 
 prolis quod est principalis matrimonii finis. In bono 
 enim prolis intelligitur non solum procreatio sed etiam 
 educatio ; ipsa enim procreatio prolis etsi non totaliter 
 tollitur quia contingit post impregnationem primam 
 iterum mulierem impraegnari . . . tamen multum im- 
 peditur, quia vix potest accidere quin corruptio accidat 
 quantum ad utrumque foetus vSl quantum ad alterum ; 
 sed educatio totaliter tollitur, quia ex hoc quod una 
 mulier plures maritos habet sequeretur incertitudo prolis 
 respectu patris cujus cura necessaria est in educando." * 
 
 The Indissolubility of Marriage 
 
 We come now to treat of the question whether marriage 
 is by the law of nature a terminable union or whether it 
 is indissoluble. It is important that we should under- 
 stand the exact nature of the question here under dis- 
 cussion. Divorce, or the breaking of marriage during 
 the lifetime of the parties, may be of two kinds, first, 
 imperfect divorce or separation a mensa et thoro, i.e. 
 merely ceasing to live together, neither party being 
 free to enter another marriage : second, perfect divorce 
 or divorce a vinculo, i.e. the dissolution of the marriage 
 tie during the lifetime of the parties, enabling either or 
 both of them to enter a new marriage. In our present 
 discussion we have nothing to do with imperfect, but 
 only with perfect divorce, or divorce a vinculo, and our 
 doctrine on the question whether marriage is indis- 
 soluble and excludes divorce in this sense may be stated 
 in the two following propositions : — 
 
 I. By the primary laws of nature marriage must en- 
 dure until the family is fully reared. 
 
 II. By the secondary laws of nature marriage is in- 
 
 * " S. Theol." 3 partis suppl. LXV. i. 
 
430 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 dissoluble, i.e. it must endure until the death of one of 
 the parties. 
 
 I. The primary properties and laws of marriage are 
 chiefly determined by its primary natural end. Any- 
 thing that is indispensably required for attaining that 
 end is required by the primary natural laws. What 
 opposes or seriously interferes with the attainment of 
 that end is strictly forbidden by natural law. Now, we 
 have seen that the primary natural end of marriage is 
 the birth and rearing of children, and, therefore, the 
 primary principles indispensably require that marriage 
 should last at least as long as is required for the birth 
 and upbringing of the child, i.e. it should last at least 
 until the child is able to take full care of, and to pro- 
 vide for itself (quosque proles ad perfectam aetatem 
 ducatur *) . This is the shortest period contemplated 
 by natural law in regard to marriage. Let us see what 
 its duration is, and, therefore, up to what age the 
 marriage union binds the parents by the primary 
 principles of the natural law. 
 
 If the only end contemplated by nature in the in- 
 stitution of marriage was the birth and rearing, by 
 each man and woman, of one child, then a father and 
 mother would have fully discharged the duties imposed 
 upon them by the primary natural precepts by remain- 
 ing together for a space of about twenty years after 
 the birth of the child, at which age the liatural period 
 of tutelage is supposed to end. This would be the 
 shortest period of time contemplated by nature in 
 relation to marriage, and any sundering of the marriage 
 tie before the end of that period would be impossible 
 in natural law. 
 
 But it is evident that the nurture of one child does 
 not represent the true conditions aimed at by nature 
 in the marriage union. In the institution of marriage, 
 nature certainly aims at the full use of the powers 
 which she has bestowed on the sexes, she aims, that is, 
 
 * " S. Theol.", Suppl. ad 3 partem, LXVII. 2 ad i. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 431 
 
 at the birth not of one but of many children. Moreover, 
 the birth of only one child does not represent the normal 
 condition of the family, and it is by the normal con- 
 ditions that the natural laws and properties of marriage 
 are determined. After the child is born it has to be 
 nurtured and trained by its parents, for which purpose 
 the father and mother must stay together, as we have 
 already said, for a space of about twenty years ; now, 
 normally it is to be expected that during that period 
 other children will have been born, on which account 
 the marriage union must be still further extended ; it 
 will, in fact, continue throughout the full period of 
 fecundity, and also for the twenty additional years 
 required for the upbringing of the last or youngest 
 child. Thus, normally, the primary requirements of 
 marriage will not have been met before the parents 
 reach the very advanced age of about seventy years. 
 And since, as we said, the laws of nature are deter- 
 mined, not by what is exceptional, but by what is 
 normal and ordinary, this is the least period contem- 
 plated by nature in regard to the marriage union. 
 
 And here the great contrast already described between 
 the few shortlived requirements of the animal offspring, 
 and the almost complete and continuous dependence 
 of the human child upon its parents, is confirmed and 
 emphasised in a remarkable way. The young bird is 
 able to rise from its nest, fully fledged and independent, 
 in the very same season in which its parents meet and 
 begin their love. Then, nature's task being fully ac- 
 complished in regard to offspring, and before a new 
 love-season arrives, instinctively the parents' love dis- 
 solves, the conjugal union ceases, and they are free 
 again until the next love-period arrives, " when Hymen 
 in his usual anniversary season summons them again 
 to choose new mates." * Not so with the union of 
 man and woman. A large portion of their lives will 
 
 * See Locke, " Two Treatises on Government," ch, VII. where 
 this argument is fully developed, | 
 
432 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 already have gone by before nature's commands in 
 regard to their first child can possibly have been met, 
 and in that time, normally speaking, other nurture- 
 cycles will have begun ; and thus the nurture-period 
 in the case of the human family does not close until 
 very late in the parents' lives, during all which time 
 the marriage union is necessary in the interest of the 
 child. 
 
 It will not be necessary to enumerate here at any 
 length the reasons why marriage must endure according 
 to natural law during the period required for the rearing 
 of the child. These reasons have already been stated 
 in our discussion on the necessity of marriage. But 
 the brief statement of them given by St. Thomas 
 Aquinas * may be quoted : — 
 
 " We observe," he writes, " that in those animals, 
 dogs for example, in which the female by herself suffices 
 for the rearing of the offspring, the male and female 
 stay no time together. . . . But with all animals in 
 which the female by herself does not suffice for the 
 rearing of offspring, male and female dwell together . . . 
 so long as is necessary for the rearing and training of 
 the offspring. This appears in birds whose young are 
 incapable of finding their own food immediately after 
 they are hatched ; for since the bird does not suckle 
 her young with milk according to the provision made 
 by nature in quadrupeds, but has to seek food abroad 
 for her young, and, therefore, keep them warm in the 
 period of feeding, the female could not do this duty 
 all alone by herself ; hence divine providence has put 
 in the male a natural instinct of standing by the female 
 for the rearing of the brood. Now in the human species 
 the female is clearly insufficient of herself for the rearing 
 of offspring, since the need of human life makes many 
 demands which cannot be met by one parent alone. 
 Hence the fitness of human life requires man to stand 
 
 * " Summa Contra Gentiles," III. 122. Our translation is that 
 made by Father Rickaby, S.J., in " God and His Creatures." 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIACiE 433 
 
 by woman . . . and not to go off at once and form 
 connexions with any , one he meets. .* . . Nor is this 
 reasoning traversed by the fact of some particular 
 woman having wealth and power enough to nourish 
 her offspring all by herself ; for in human acts the line 
 of natural rectitude is not drawn to suit the accidental 
 variety of the individual, but the properties common to 
 the whole species. 
 
 " A further consideration is that in the human species 
 the young need not only bodily nutrition, as animals 
 do, but also the training of the soul. Other animals 
 have their natural instincts (suas prudentias) to provide 
 for themselves, but man lives by reason, which takes 
 the experience of a long time to arrive at discretion. 
 Hence, children need instruction by the confirmed ex- 
 perience of their parents : nor are they capable of such 
 instruction as soon as they are born, but after a long 
 time, the time, in fact, taken to arrive at the j'ears of 
 discretion. For this instruction, again, a long time is 
 needed. And then, moreover, because of the assaults of 
 passion, whereby the judgment of prudence is thwarted, 
 there is need not of instruction only but of repression 
 also. For this pitrpose the woman by herself is not 
 competent, but at this point especially there is re- 
 quisite the concurrence of the man, in whom there is 
 at once reason more perfect to instruct, and force more 
 potent to chastise. Therefore, in the human race the 
 advancement of the young in good must last not for a 
 short time, as in birds, but for a long period of life. 
 Hence, whereas it is necessary in all animals for the male 
 to stand by the female for such time as the father's 
 concurrence is requisite for bringing up of the progeny, 
 it is natural for man to be tied to the society of one 
 fixed woman for a long period, not a short one. This 
 social tie we call marriage." * 
 
 • In the further development ot this argument (ch. 123) St. 
 Thomas calls attention to other evils occurring in the terminable 
 marriage system. For instance, where divorce is possible the mother 
 
 VOL. II — 28 
 
434 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 After the birth of children, therefore, there is need 
 of continued care and direction for a very long period, 
 with a view to the development of the child, both in 
 the physical, the intellectual, and the moral order. In 
 the intellectual and moral order it is particularly 
 necessary at that age at which boys pass into manhood 
 and girls into womanhood, the age at which young 
 people are subject to most dangers. To break up the 
 marriage union at any point in that grave period of 
 the child's career would be to inflict on it a very great 
 injustice which could never afterwards be rectified. 
 The child is the chief loser through the divorce of 
 husband and wife. This is the clear testimony of 
 reason, and it is confirmed also by what experience 
 teaches us of the children of divorced parents. " He 
 leaned forward," writes the novelist,* " and touched 
 Nick on the head. . . . When I divorced your mother 
 (he said), I obtained damages from the man who had 
 betrayed her. But who paid, do you think ? Who 
 pays — always, always ? Good God ! It is the child 
 who pays. The man and the woman go their way 
 separately, and forget or stamp on the head of re- 
 membrance. They find new interests in life, stifle 
 their conscience, and find new love. For good or evil 
 their characters have been made. They do not alter 
 much. They are the heirs of their own childhood. 
 But how about the child who is just beginning life ? 
 who needs mother-love as well as father-love for the 
 foundations of belief, for faith in the essentials of life, 
 for guidance in the beginning of the journey ? You 
 
 will be more solicitous to provide for her own future than for that 
 of the child. Secondly, the possibility of divorce leads to the com- 
 mission of those crimes on account of which divorce is given. Thirdly, 
 in the family where divorce is anticipated there will be frequent 
 misunderstandings. On the other hand, how many misunderstandings 
 are made to disappear through the consciousness that, for better for 
 worse, the lives of husband and wife are bound together inextricably 
 to the end. 
 
 * Philip Gibbs, in his beautiful and powerful work, " The Custody 
 of the Child." 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 435 
 
 know, Nick, you Icnow. It is you wh^ have paid the 
 price — to the full — every brass farthing of it." 
 
 And herein lies the first and irreparable sin of the 
 divorce court. In other connections before a contract 
 is voided by the courts, even at the instance of the 
 framers of the contract, the interests of third parties 
 are always considered. But in the divorce court, the 
 interest not of a third party but of the first party, and 
 the only first, the party to whose good the marriage 
 contract is, in the order of nature itself, wholly subor- 
 dinate—that interest is not only left unprotected but 
 is even contemptuously ignored ; only the passions 
 and the feelings of the parents are considered. The 
 marriage union brings the child into existence ; in the 
 order of nature it is for the sake of the child that 
 marriage as an institution exists at all. From the day, 
 then, that marriage is entered upon, the first responsi- 
 bility of the parents is not to one another but to the 
 child. At divorce, on the other hand, as we have said, 
 the child's life and interest are completely ignored, 
 and its future sacrificed to the convenience of its 
 parents. In comparison with this tragedy of the be- 
 trayal of the child at divorce every other tragedy of 
 the home shrinks into insignificance. Circumstances 
 may, indeed, arise in which the child loses apparently 
 little in the loss of its parents' care. But nature frames 
 her canons of good and evil not in accordance with 
 such abnormalities, but in accordance with the usual 
 needs of men. And, to the child, the loss of parents, 
 regarded in itself, is naturally a loss of the first magni- 
 tude." 
 
 II. We have now seen that according to the strictest 
 and most indispensable, or what are called the primary 
 precepts of natural law, marriage is an enduring union 
 lasting as long as fertility lasts, and for about twenty 
 years after. It is a union, therefore, enduring by strict 
 natural law up to the age of about seventy years. It 
 will hardly be necessary to put up a defence of indis- 
 
436 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 solubility for the brief span of life remaining after that 
 period, since it is hardlj' to be expected that those who 
 have shared the joys and sorrows of life so long to- 
 gether will wish to part at the end when, more even 
 than in youth, they should appreciate and support 
 each other. Divorce, in fact, as a practical problem 
 seldom arises except in the earlier years of marriage, 
 while as yet even the first child has not been provided 
 for, and when, therefore, divorce is excluded by every 
 consideration of natural law. 
 
 Still for completeness' sake it will be necessary to 
 show here how the natural law stands in regard to the 
 last few years of the parents' lives, i.e. to enquire 
 whether the binding character of the marriage union 
 survives the period of up-bringing and remains to the 
 end of life. 
 
 Up to the present our reasoning has all been based 
 on the requirements of the primary end of marriage — 
 the good of the child. What is more, we have con- 
 sidered only the child's indispensable needs — the most 
 stringent requirements of birth and training, and the 
 primary laws based on these requirements. We have 
 "yet to consider the secondary laws * of marriage, based, 
 first, on the perfections of the primary end, and, in the 
 second place, on the secondary end of marriage — the 
 good of the parents themselves. And reasoning from 
 both these subordinate ends of nature it is possible to 
 show that marriage is an indissoluble union, lasting to 
 the end of life. 
 
 We shall, in the first place, adduce an argument 
 specially relating to the period now under consideration, 
 viz. that which is normally subsequent to the up- 
 bringing of the family, and to which the primary 
 
 * These secondary laws are not so important as the primary, 
 because the ends which they are intended to secure are not so im- 
 portant Under a system in which only natural law obtained, the 
 public authorities could dispense from the observance of the secondary' 
 laws for very grave reasons ; but they could not dispense from the 
 primary laws. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 437 
 
 natural laws do not extend. In presenting this argu- 
 ment it is necessary to remind the read^ of two things, 
 first, that we are here dealing, not with imperfect, but 
 with perfect divorce, or the dissolving of the marriage 
 bond with a view to the contracting of a second marriage ; 
 secondly, that we are considering here the attitude, 
 not of the civil law or of the Church, but of nature 
 towards the dissolution of marriage ; we are considering 
 a system in which the only authority being exercised 
 is that of nature ; ■ and, therefore, the only question 
 with which we are concerned is whether, as soon as the 
 family is reared, nature herself dissolves the marriage 
 bond with a view to the formation of a second marriage. 
 Now, that nature herself does not dissolve the marriage 
 bond under the conditions we are here considering is 
 evident from the mere statement of these conditions. 
 The case here contemplated is that of a man approach- 
 ing the end of the normal life. If nature dissolves the 
 marriage of such a man with a view to a second marriage 
 her clear intention in that, as in any other rqarriage, is 
 that the man should marry a woman of the age at 
 which normall}'^ marriages are undertaken, this being 
 the age at which nature supposes women to marry.* 
 On the other hand, it is nature's purpose when a woman 
 marries that her fertility should be turned to full ac- 
 count in order to the setting up of the full natural 
 family, and, in the case we make, these two require- 
 ments of nature are quite incompatible. The fertility 
 which nature bestows upon a young woman could not 
 be exhausted by marriage with a man very advanced 
 in years ; the full family could not be founded ; and, 
 therefore, it is impossible that nature should herself 
 dissolve a marriage already existing with a view to such 
 an ineffectual union as this. Of course, if one of the 
 parties to the existing marriage should die, the tie of 
 
 * Old people may, of course, marry ; but the natural age for 
 marriage is that at which the faculties are first sufficiently matured, 
 not that of their decline. 
 
438 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 marriage is broken automatically, not by nature's doing 
 but by death ; and then nature will tolerate a second 
 marriage for as much -of nature's goods as the parties 
 can secure. But in a scheme where marriage is con- 
 trolled by nature or natural law only, if a man already 
 advanced in life can validly enter a second marriage 
 whilst his wife is living, it is because nature herself has 
 dissolved the union in order that the man may marry 
 again ; but it is obvious that this is not the way in 
 which nature provides for the continuance of the family 
 life. Indeed, were such dissolutions and second mar- 
 riages to become common they would seriously affect 
 the propagation of the race, that is, they would impede 
 and not promote the chief end of nature, which is the 
 continuance and increase of the race. 
 
 We now go on to develop certain other arguments 
 which also go to show that by the secondary laws of 
 nature marriage is absolutely indissoluble, that it can 
 never be broken. 
 
 {a) We * saw that by the primary laws of nature 
 marriage endures up to the end of the training period. 
 But the natural relations of parent and child do not 
 end when the child is reared. The parents are the 
 cause of the child's existence, and, therefore, they are 
 responsible for them at every age. The child, no 
 doubt, when fully trained is independent of his parents. 
 But if for any reason a son or a daughter should meet 
 with misfortune or should become a charge on others 
 that charge falls, first of all, on the parents, and, there- 
 fore, their union should continue to the end. 
 
 Again, there is the argument arising out of property. 
 Parents, as we have already seen,f are empowered by 
 nature to gather property together, and to become its 
 owners, principally with a view to the needs of children. 
 
 * The arguments under a relate to the interest of the child (the 
 less essential interests) ; those under b refer to the welfare of the 
 parents. 
 
 t p. 122. The present argument is given by St. Thomas Aquina.s. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 439 
 
 The children, therefore, are the natural heirs of the 
 parents and have a natural claim on •the family pro- 
 perty. Consequently the parents are not free to dis- 
 solve their union in order to enter a second marriage ; 
 since, if this could be done, the rights of the children 
 would have been given them to no purpose.* 
 
 (6) To these arguments based on the unessential 
 good of the child we may add others based on the 
 necessity of the parents to one another. 
 
 In the first place, man is the natural support of 
 woman. Now, in any particular case there is no one 
 on whom this natural duty of support devolves so 
 directly as on the woman's husband. And this duty 
 is not one that diminishes in cogency as the years go 
 by, on the contrary, it increases as the woman becomes 
 older, and, therefore, a man should stand by his wife 
 in her old age and unto the end. 
 
 Indeed, from this point of view, it is possible to show 
 that a woman has a right in commutative justice to 
 support and fidelity to the end. For, having given her- 
 self to her husband during the whole period of fertility, 
 and for as long as youth and beauty remain, she has 
 given him her whole life in so far as it could have a 
 value for him. In return she must get love and pro- 
 tection for her whole life. 
 
 Again, at divorce the woman is always at a disad- 
 vantage as compared with her husband, for she is the 
 weaker part and always dependent on another. But 
 after the rearing of her family what position is the 
 woman in to find another husband from whom to 
 obtain support ? 
 
 Indissolubility is also established from the nature of 
 
 * In connection with all these arguments it is to be remembered 
 that by the death of one of the parties the marriage union auto- 
 matically comes to an end, and then we cannot urge oui reasonings 
 based on the design of nature in regard to the marriage union. The 
 parent may, no doubt, have certain duties surviving from his first 
 marriage, but in taking account of them we must not lose sight of 
 the right of freedom which is given him by the death of the other 
 party. 
 
440 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 marital love. The love which a husband should bear 
 to his wife is not a love of sense merely — it is not mere 
 animal love based on passion. His love should be a 
 human love, a love based on friendship more than on 
 passion — a love, therefore, which not merely receives 
 but gives also. The love of passion is selfish and, there- 
 fore, it lasts a short time only, i.e. as long as the at- 
 tractiveness of the woman lasts.* The love of friend- 
 ship is unselfish, it increases with every year that passes, 
 and endures till death. The man, therefore, who is 
 attracted to stay with his wife while she is young and 
 beautiful, and throws her aside when she is old, has 
 never loved her in a human way, but as an animal only. 
 True human love is not expressed by the formula, " I 
 love you for a year or as long as you are young " (that 
 would be a travesty of human love) ; but by the formula, 
 " I love you," or which is the same thing, " I love you 
 absolutely, and without restriction of time, i.e. for ever." 
 " Love," says the poet, " is love for evermore." 
 
 Finally, we may note that any recognition of divorce 
 is bound to lead to endless multiplication of the causes 
 for which divorce may be obtained, and, in the end, 
 the dissolution of marriage will be left practically to 
 the will of the parties. Marriages will even be entered 
 upon with a view to their speedy termination, for the 
 sake of the freedom enjoyed by unmarried persons, 
 and at the same time to avoid the disgrace attaching 
 to the illicit union. Moreover, divorce will be sought 
 at the earliest possible period so as to enable the parties, 
 
 * The love of the animal goes out to the object only for the moment. 
 The animal thinks only in the present. As soon, therefore, as present 
 attractiveness ceases its love perishes. But human thought and 
 feeling are not confined to the present but travel back into the past 
 and forward to the future : — 
 
 " 'Tis thou art blessed compared wi' me 
 The present only toucheth thee ; 
 
 But, och I I backward cast my e'e on prospects drear. 
 An' forward, tho' I cannot see, I guess and fear." — Burns. 
 
 And, therefore, true human love is given for the future as well as for 
 fhe present, 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 441 
 
 and particularly the woman, to find other partners in 
 life ; and thus the children, if there should he children, 
 will be left uncared for even in their tenderest years. 
 In this way the recognition of divorce leads on to a 
 condition little short of promiscuity, and in the end to 
 racial decay and death. 
 
 To sum up — ;by the primary laws of nature, marriage 
 is an enduring union, lasting as long as is required for 
 the birth and the rearing of children. And since, in 
 nature's intentions, the birth of many children is con- 
 templated, and since the natural laws are framed ac- 
 cording to the natural requirements, it follows that the 
 marriage union by the primary natural laws is not a 
 brief union — on the contrary, it must endure till near 
 the end of life. By the secondary laws of nature, how- 
 ever, based on the more perfect relations of parent to 
 child, and also on the needs of the parents themselves, 
 marriage is an indissoluble union, broken only by the 
 death of one of the parents. 
 
 Difficulty. 
 
 Where one of the parties is infertile would it not seem 
 that our reasonings, based on the needs of children, are 
 wholly inapplicable, and that, therefore, marriage under 
 such conditions has not even that degree of stability which 
 is said to be required by the primary laws, viz. that it 
 should last for so long as the rearing of the child requires ? 
 
 Reply. We are here enquiring into the natural laws and 
 properties of marriage as an institution. Now, the natural 
 properties of anything are determined by its natural end,* 
 and, therefore, since nature in the institution of marriage 
 aims principally at the birth and rearing of children, and 
 since this, as we have just seen, requires indissolubility, so, 
 indissolubility is a necessary and inseparable natural property 
 of the married state. Once, therefore, a marriage is really 
 and truly contracted it retains all its essential properties, 
 including indissolubility, no matter what may be the cir- 
 cumstances of the parties concerned, and, therefore, no 
 
 * We also use, as a test of what is natural, the normal or the usual, 
 for what is natural is sure to be the normal also. 
 
442 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 matter what may be the number of their children and 
 whether they have children or not. 
 
 From this it follows that the only question that can 
 possibly arise in regard to infertiUty and the marital attri- 
 butes is the question whether a marriage entered into be- 
 ' tween two persons, one of whom is infertile, is a true and 
 valid marriage contract ; for, if it is, then such a marriage, 
 just hke any other, is naturally indissoluble. And that 
 such a marriage is valid is evident from the laws ordin- 
 arily governing the vahdity of contract. In any contract it 
 is possible to distinguish the object and the end ; and the 
 contract will be valid so long as its object exists, no matter 
 whether the end is actually attainable or not. If I buy a 
 book in order to pass an examination, the contract, whether 
 I attain this end or not, is valid once the object — the book, 
 is given and paid for. It is so also with marriage. The 
 end of marriage is the generation of offspring. The object 
 given and accepted, and which the contract directly con- 
 cerns, is the usus corporis. If that is possible the marriage 
 contract stands and is indissoluble. If that is impossible, 
 as in the case of impotentia, the marriage contract is invalid 
 and the question of dissolubility or its opposite does not 
 arise. 
 
 The Natural Impediments 
 There are some impediments which make the con- 
 tracting of marriage unlawful but do not render the 
 marriage null and void ; for instance, a promise of 
 marriage made to another. These are called impedient 
 impediments. Other impediments render the contract 
 null and void. They are called diriment impediments. 
 But some diriment impediments arise by natural 
 law, some depend on positive or civil or ecclesiastical 
 law only. In Ethics we deal exclusively with such 
 impediments as depend on natural law. These natural 
 diriment impediments may be enumerated under such 
 headings as the following : Some arise out of the want 
 of the necessary consent, for instance, a mistake as 
 regards the person with whom the marriage is being 
 contracted — thinking one is marrying one person when 
 one is really marrying another ; under the same heading 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 443 
 
 comes the impediment of violence and want of freedom. 
 Other diriment impediments arise out 6f some want or 
 hindrance in the contracting parties. Sometimes this 
 hindrance is of the nature of a personal defect which 
 renders the object of marriage wholly impossible, e.g. 
 impotence. Sometimes this hindrance is not in the 
 nature of a defect. For instance, a previous and still 
 surviving marriage with another person nullifies a second 
 marriage ; also consanguinity or affinity between the 
 parties. In the present section we propose to examine 
 at some length the important impediment of consan- 
 guinity. 
 
 THE IMPEDIMENT OF CONSANGUINITY 
 
 We have here to discuss the important and much 
 debated question whether and how far consanguinity 
 is a natural diriment impediment to marriage. By 
 consanguinity is meant any blood relationship contracted 
 through descent from the same parents or ancestors, 
 e.g. the relation^ship of parent and child, of brother and 
 sister, of cousins, of uncle and niece, of aunt and nephew. 
 Consanguinity depends on identity of blood transmitted 
 from one generation to another. It, therefore, rec|uires 
 a certain degree of proximity of relationship * since after 
 a few generations identity of blood becomes lost in the 
 parties by the infusion of new blood. " In every genera- 
 tion," writes St. Thomas, f "a new infusion of 'blood 
 occurs whereas identity of blood is the cause of con- 
 sanguinity." And, therefore, there is a limit beyond 
 which we do not proceed in reckoning relationships of 
 consanguinity. We shall here ~ consider only the closer 
 blood-relationships, and shall begin with the relation- 
 ship of members of the same family, i.e. of parent and 
 child, and of sister and brother. 
 
 * We need not consider the direct line here. By the time that a 
 new infusion of blood occurs in this line, marriage would be out of 
 the question. 
 
 t Suppl. ad 3 partem, LIV. 4. 
 
444 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The general relation of the primary and secondary 
 laws of nature to the grades of consanguinity will readily 
 be understood. All grades of consanguinity that render 
 imfossihle or seriously impede the attainment of the 
 essentials of the primary end, i.e. the birth and rearing 
 of children, and, we may add, those that would wholly 
 oppose the natural and essential relationship obtaining 
 between parent and child, are forbidden by the primary 
 laws of nature. Any degrees that impede the attainment 
 of the secondary ends or the perfect attainment of the 
 primary are forbidden by the secondary laws. Any 
 degree of relationship that opposes the primary laws 
 would act as a universal bar to the marriage union, 
 prohibiting it in every case. A degree that opposes 
 the secondary laws only, though in general a natural 
 bar to marriage and a diriment impediment, might, 
 nevertheless, through the intervention of the proper 
 public authorities, be overlooked in certain difficult 
 circumstances so as to allow the contracting of the 
 marriage union* 
 
 Parent and child. 
 
 In one of its grades, consanguinity is certainly an 
 impediment to marriage according to the primary laws 
 of nature, viz. in the case of parent and child. For, 
 though under such a union, the primary end of marriage, 
 i.e. the birth and rearing of children, may be attained 
 (non totaliter toUitur), nevertheless, (i) the gaining of 
 this end is seriously impeded ; and again, (2) such a 
 marriage reverses the essential natural position of parent 
 and child, t 
 
 (i) Speaking generally, it is possible that in a single 
 case a healthy child should issiie from the union of 
 blood-relations. But the general tendency of such 
 unions is undoubtedly prejudicial to the health of the 
 child. The deleterious results of close relationship in 
 
 * See p. 418-19. 
 t pee p. 418, not?. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 445 
 
 the marriage union do not, indeed, always manifest 
 themselves in individual cases, and a ftesh infusion of 
 new blood into the line may even have the effect of 
 neutralising the deleterious consequences already con- 
 tracted but not manifested in a single case, and so these 
 consequences may never actually appear.* But the 
 general tendency of the consanguine marriage is certainly 
 prejudicial to offspring, and such marriages have only 
 to be practised on a sufficiently large scale in order to 
 manifest their true character as intrinsically and essen- 
 tially harmful to the child, f 
 
 Now these consequences are not all deleterious in 
 the same degree to the child. Where the parents are 
 very closely related the consequences are of a serious 
 character, and in these cases nature prohibits the con- 
 tracting of marriage, and her prohibition varies in 
 effectiveness and necessity according to the degree of 
 closeness holding in the relationship. As, however, the 
 degree of relationship diminishes, the effects also are 
 found to diminish until finally a point is reached where 
 
 * " Breeders of domestic animals inform us that the mixing in of 
 even a drop of unrelated blood is suf&cient to neutralise the injurious 
 effects of long and continued close in-breeding " — (Westermarck, 
 op. cit. p. 339). 
 
 t There can be no doubt, for instance, about the terrible effects 
 of continued in-breeding between persons related collaterally in the 
 first degree. The Veddahs of Ceylon are said to be given to this 
 terrible custom, and the effect is given by Mr. Bailey (Transac. Ethn. 
 Soc, N.S., II. 294 ; quoted by Westermarck) — " the race is rapidly 
 becoming extinct ; large families are all but unknown." And if 
 such are the consequences of this particular degree of consanguinity 
 in parents, more terrible still would be those attending the marriage 
 of parent and child. 
 
 But whereas nobody would seriously attempt to question the 
 consequences in the case of the two very close relationships just 
 considered, some writers have called in question the existence of 
 any very bad effects from the marriage of persons related in the second 
 or third degree. But though in particular cases these evil consequences 
 may not appear, they certainly do exist, and if such marriages are 
 multiplied the effect soon becomes discernible in such ways as physical 
 weakness, epilepsy, neurasthenia and other diseases of body and 
 mind. The effects of such unions may be deduced not only from the 
 statistical tables quoted by Westermarck, but also from the state- 
 ments of breeders of animals as to the deleterious consequences of 
 continued in-breeding, also to be found in Mr. Westermarck's work. 
 
446 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the deleterious effects though possible, and in some cases 
 actual, are so insignificant that nature can no longer 
 be said to prohibit, or even to discountenance, the 
 marriage of the parties. 
 
 Within the area of prohibition, and judging by the 
 effects of in-breeding alone, it is not easy to say where 
 prohibition is by the primary laws and where by the 
 secondary laws of nature only. Of one thing, however, 
 we can always be certain ; the primary laws of nature 
 always extend to the extremes. In the present case 
 the extreme of consanguinity is that between parent 
 and child. In no other case is the blood-identity so 
 complete as here. " A daughter," writes St. Thomas,* 
 " is, as it were, identical with her father, since she comes 
 of his substance (cum sit aliquid ejus) ; but a sister is 
 not in any such way identical with a brother since she 
 is not of his substance — rather both are descended from 
 the one principle." Therefore, if the general tendency 
 of blood-relationship in any degree is prejudicial to 
 offspring, the relation of parent and child should be 
 prejudicial to offspring in the highest possible degree. 
 Such a union would consequently be prohibited by the 
 primary precepts of the natural law.f 
 
 Btit if the union of parent and child in marriage is 
 inordinate in respect of the life of their offspring, it is 
 doubly inordinate by reason of the fact that such a 
 marriage not only opposes but reverses the essential 
 natural relation of parent and child. J As a child, a 
 daughter is subject to her father, since her existence is 
 from him. By marriage they would be rendered equals. 
 These two relations cannot be reconciled. Picture a 
 father seeking his daughter's hand with a view to 
 
 * Suppl. ad 3 partem, LIV. 4 ad 7. 
 
 •f In Sumna Theol. St. Thomas in connection with the case of 
 parent and child, makes no mention of the deleterious effects on 
 offspring of the blood-relationship. He rests his whole case for the 
 essential unlawfulness of marriage between parent and child on the 
 argument given here in the second place. 
 
 X viz. the present parents in relation to each other. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 447 
 
 marriage. More unnatural still would be the marriage 
 of mother and son. As child, the sort is subject to 
 his mother, as husband she would actually owe him 
 obedience. The marriage of parent and child is, there- 
 fore, the complete reversion of the essential relations 
 obtaining in the family.* And for this reason it is 
 forbidden by the primary natural laws. 
 
 Brother and sister. 
 
 The marriage of brother and sister is not opposed to 
 the primary laws, since the essentials of the primary 
 end of matrimony are obtainable in such a union. 
 Children can be born of sixch a marriage, and there is 
 not the same degree of danger to the offspring as in the 
 case already considered. It, therefore, does not fall 
 under the extreme ban of nature which is the effect of 
 prohibition by the primary laws. Neither is there any 
 such reversion of the natural relationships obtaining in 
 the family as was the case where parent married child. 
 
 Nevertheless, the deordination of such a union is so 
 obvious that no one will doubt that these marriages 
 are forbidden by nature, at least in its secondary laws. 
 For, in the first place, the injury to health, bodily and 
 mental, of offspring is grave enough to justify us in 
 claiming that the primary end of marriage, if attained 
 at aU, can only be attained in a very imperfect way.f 
 Secondly, such marriages " are opposed to one of the 
 secondary ends of marriage which is the welfare of the 
 parents. This latter argument may be expanded in 
 the following way : brother and sister stand to one 
 another in a relation which is by nature the closest 
 possible — a relation which is quite unique in society. 
 Sprung from the same parents, identical in blood, reared 
 at the same hearth, they owe each other a special love 
 and should treat each other with special confidence. 
 
 * The argument is fully given in St. Thomas — Suppl. ad 3 partem 
 LIV. 3. 
 
 t See cases already quoted, p. 445. 
 
448 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 And this love and confidence are a natural good to 
 brother and sister, a good of immense import and value 
 in their lives. Were brother and sister free to marry, 
 this beautiful natural relation would be turned into a 
 source of evil instead of good. Intimacies would be 
 impossible in such a home. Confidences would be 
 misunderstood. The possibility of marriage between 
 persons thus forced to live together before maturity is 
 attained, would have the effect of giving rein to passions 
 which it is the business of marriage to regulate according 
 to law. " Finis matrimonii secundarius," writes St. 
 Thomas,* " per se est concupiscentiae repressio ; qui 
 deperiret si quaelibet consanguinea posset in matrimonium 
 duci, quia magnus concupiscentiae aditus praeberetur 
 nisi inter illas personas quas oportet in eadem domo con- 
 versari esset carnalis copula interdicta." 
 
 Finally, it is always necessary, as we have already 
 said, when determining the laws and properties of 
 marriage, to estimate its effect not only on children 
 and parents but on society at large, for marriage, above 
 every other natural institution, aims at the welfare of 
 society. Now, besides the general deterioration of off- 
 spring and of society, both in regard to mind and body, 
 that must ensue, and the moral danger to society 
 generally which would of necessity follow on allowing 
 the marriages of brother and sister as a general practice, 
 society would also be adversely affected in two special 
 ways not yet discussed by us, viz. first, by the public 
 confusion that must arise where relationships of parent 
 and child, and sister and brother have to be ascribed to ' 
 the same individuals, a point which it will hardly be 
 necessary further to enlarge upon ; and secondly, by 
 the fact that the marriage of brother and sister provides 
 no additional bonds of friendship and relationship in 
 society, such as are set up by the marriage of unrelated 
 persons, ahd on which society depends so much for its 
 compactness and strength. When strangers marry, new 
 
 * Suppl, ad 3 partem LIV, 3. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 449 
 
 bonds of friendship and unity spring up between their 
 blood relations. When brother and sitter marry, no 
 new friendships arise, their respective blood relations 
 being already one, and, therefore, society is all the 
 weaker for such marriages. " Per accidens," writes St. 
 Thomas, " finis matrimonii est confederatio hominum 
 et amicitae multiplicatio, dum homo ad consanguineos 
 uxoris sicut ad suos se habet ; et ideo huic multiplication! 
 amicitiae prae judicium fieret si aliquis sanguine con- 
 junctam uxorem duceret, quia ex hoc nova amicitia per 
 matrimonium nulli accresceret." 
 
 The marriage, therefore, of brother and sister is 
 forbidden by the secondary laws of nature. It is more 
 stringently forbidden even than plurality of wives, 
 because it more seriously impedes the natural ends, and 
 if allowed generally would be even more disastrous for 
 the race than polygyny is. So great, indeed, are these 
 evils that such a union could hardly be allowed except 
 in such extreme circumstances, that, unless such 
 marriages were allowed, the race could not survive.* 
 
 Ths remote degrees. 
 
 The evils which we have just described as characteristic 
 of marital unions between brother and sister, attach 
 also to the unions of persons more distantly related 
 but in a less degree than in the case of brother and sister. 
 Here, no doubt, for instance in the case of near cousins, 
 the effect on offspring cannot but be prejudicial, and the 
 gravity of this effect should act as a warning to legis- 
 lators to keep these marriages within such limits as it 
 is open to the law to impose. Such marriages are also 
 attended by those other evils which we have described 
 as present in brother-and-sister marriages. For instance, 
 besides the brother-and-sister relationship, the near- 
 cousin relationship also imposes a duty of love and con- 
 fidence ; but such confidence would be both dangerous 
 
 * We are here speaking of a condition in which men are bound by 
 the natural laws only. 
 
 VOL. II — 29 385 
 
450 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and open to be misunderstood, and companionship 
 would be poisoned at the root, did not the public law so 
 discountenance the marriages of near cousins that no 
 expectation of them could normally be entertained. 
 
 But though attended with grave evils if practised on 
 a large scale, such marriages are not so gravely evil that 
 it can be said of them that they are forbidden, in the 
 proper sense of that word, by natural law. There is a 
 vast, and, we might almost say, a qualitative or specific 
 difference between the marriage of persons belonging 
 to the same strictly natural family unit, i.e. the group 
 of parents and children, and the marriage of other 
 persons, no matter how closely related. In the first 
 case there is always grave danger to the health of off- 
 spring. Also, the special bonds holding the natural 
 family together are wholly different from, and even 
 exclude all the other attractions and liaisons leading to 
 marriage. In the marriage of persons remotely related, 
 on the other hand, there is always a good and fair pro- 
 bability that the children may not be adversely affected 
 by the relationship,* whilst the danger of perverted 
 intimacy is not proximate where persons need not be 
 reared at the same hearth. Accordingly, such marriages 
 can hardly be said to be forbidden Jjy nature, even by 
 its secondary laws. Nevertheless, the evils attendant 
 on them, particularly where they become'- of common 
 occurrence are real and obvious ; and consequently, 
 though not forbidding them, nature discountenances > 
 them in every way. To the rulers of communities she 
 leaves the duty of preventing such marriages by law. 
 But the warning finger she always holds out to us, in 
 the disasters with which she invariably visits the too fre- 
 quent occurrence of these consanguine unions. Though 
 of positive origin, therefore, the impediment of con- 
 sanguinity in the remoter degrees may in one sense of 
 the word be spoken of as natural, viz. that it is set up 
 
 * If widely practised, however, the sum of the deleterious effects, 
 guch as they are, would quickly and easily become discernible. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 451 
 
 by the public ruler at nature's instigation, and that it ia 
 based upon important natural requiremeillts.* 
 
 Endogamy and Exogamy. 
 
 Endogamy is the custom of forbidding marriages outside 
 the tribe. Exogamy is the prohibition of marriage within 
 the tribe, or at all events within some particular clan of the 
 tribe. Amongst some savage races endogamy is practised, 
 amongst others exogamy. Sometimes the tribe as a whole 
 is endogamous, the clan exogamous. The reasons for 
 endogamy scarcely require to be enumerated. It keeps 
 property within the tribe. It produces a sense of tribal 
 soUdarity, or what Lord Avebury calls " race-pride," f and 
 of aloofness which is not without its value, particularly 
 in a hostile environment. Where endogamy prevails it is 
 always found that the tribe is large enough to obviate the 
 possibiUty and effects of in-breeding. | 
 
 Exogamy was for many years held to be due to causes 
 which had no connection with the natural laws of marriage 
 in regard to consanguinity. For instance (a) it was regarded 
 by McLennan § as due to the capture of foreign women by 
 the men of a particular tribe when a scarcity of women 
 appeared in that tribe through the custom of female infanti- 
 cide. " Thus the men would think more of foreign women 
 in connection with wiving than of kindred women, and so 
 marriages with kindred women would tend to go into desue- 
 tude." (6) Another theory, advocated by Westermarck, 
 is that exogamy is due to " an innate aversion to sexual 
 intercourse between persons living very closely together from 
 early youth," and, " as such persons are in most cases 
 
 * " Affinity," is, like " consanguinity in the remoter degrees," a 
 positive or civil, and not a natural impediment, but, like consan- 
 guinity, it is based on requirements of nature. Afi&nity between 
 husband and wife does not indeed imperil the offspring in any way, 
 but it is subject to the same grave defects that we have enumerated 
 in the second instance in connection with the remoter degrees of con- 
 sanguinity. Persons related by afiSnity are brought into the closest 
 confidence with each other, and marriage should not be possible 
 between them. Also it diminishes the social relationships on which 
 society so much depends for its strength and solidity. 
 
 t " Origin of Civilisation," p. ii8. Compare the "brother and 
 sister " marriages of the Egyptian kings. 
 
 I See Starcke, op. cit. p. 222. 
 
 § " Studies in Ancient History," p. 62. Lord Avebury and others 
 fall into a curious blunder in their statement that according to 
 McLennan marriage by capture arose from the rule of exogamy. 
 Starcke attempts to give some explanation of this blunder (p. 215). 
 
452 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 related, this feeling displays itself chiefly as a horror of 
 intercourse between near kin." (c) According to Crawley and 
 many others exogamy is due to a taboo with which custom 
 marked the women of the household in the eyes of the men. 
 In the household, for instance, the sexes Uved apart. This 
 taboo would easily prevent marriage union with the same 
 females. " Sexual taboo," he writes,* " produces a religious 
 separation of children in the home ; the father took the boys 
 about with him while the mother took the girls ; it is after- 
 wards enforced by the principle of sexual taboo, and its 
 extension by the use of relationships produces the various 
 forms of exogamy." (d) Lord Avebury,f without having 
 recourse to McLennan's theory of female infanticide, explains 
 exogamy as due to the capture of foreign women. In the 
 beginning all women were common, but a captured woman 
 was the property of her captor. The other women of the 
 tribe would soon come to perceive that the captured woman's 
 was the better position and would desire to " exchange their 
 noniinal freedom and hazardous privileges for the comparative 
 peace and security of the former." (e) A theory defended 
 by Spencer J is to the effect that captured women were not 
 merely slaves but trophies also, and the tribe that had in it 
 most foreign women would come to be regarded as the 
 bravest and most honourable. The custom would thus 
 easily develop into an imperative requirement that wives 
 should be taken from other tribes either in battle or by 
 " private abduction." (/) Starcke § explains exogamy as 
 a result of certain legal considerations. Closely allied 
 persons are not in law regarded as distinct persons, whereas 
 the law of marriage required that the parties should be 
 distinct and independent, (g) Finally, there are the in- 
 numerable theories connecting exogamy with totemism.|| 
 
 We think we are quite safe in claiming that aU these 
 " positivist " theories of exogamy have given, or are giving 
 place, in more recent years to the far easier and more natural 
 explanation which bases exogamy on the requirements of 
 marriage in regard to consanguinity. The fact that exogamy 
 was not a mere custom but a law would of itself lead us to 
 
 * " The Mystic Rose," p. 443. 
 
 t According to Lord Avebury's theory, in woman-capture is to be 
 found not only the historical cause of exogamy but of marriage itself 
 as an institution. 
 
 X " Principles of Sociology," I. 621. 
 
 § op. cit. p. 233. 
 
 II For these see E. Crawley, " The Tree of Life," p. 177, and Sir 
 J. G. Frazer in " Totemism and Exogamy," III. 445. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 453 
 
 think that exogamy was based on rational grounds and that 
 it did not arise out of mere accident. And the most rational 
 ground that one can conceive is to be found in the end which 
 all would admit to be important, and which exogamy was 
 itself exceptionally fitted to achieve, viz. the prevention of 
 marriage among near kin. " Each successive bi-section of 
 the community," writes Dr. Frazer, * " was dehberately 
 instituted for the purpose of preventing the marriage of 
 near kin," and again, f " that the exogamous system of these 
 primitive peoples was artificial, and that it was deliberately 
 devised by them for the purpose which it actually serves, 
 namely, the prevention of the marriage of near kin, seems 
 quite certain. On no other reasonable hypothesis can we 
 explain its complex arrangements so perfectly adapted to 
 the wants and ideas of the natives." J 
 
 It has been claimed by Mr. Westermarck that savages 
 could not possibly have possessed such a knowledge of the 
 physiological effects of incestuous marriages as would induce 
 them to introduce a law based on " sagacious calculation " 
 of these effects. But surely after experience of many genera- 
 tions it would be possible for a savage tribe, to which physical 
 vigour would be of more importance than any other posses- 
 sion, to gauge, if not in detail, at least in a general way, the 
 effects of these incestuous uiiions, and they would have all 
 the greater opportunities of studying these effects if at any 
 period in-breeding became common through want of outer 
 friendly relations with other tribes. As Sir Henry Maine § 
 remarks, it is not difficult to suppose that the tribes that 
 discovered the use of fire and selected the best forms of 
 animals for domestication and of vegetables for cultivation 
 might also be capable of discovering, after an experience of 
 centuries, that healthier children were born more generally 
 from unrelated than from related parents. That the moral 
 effects also of allowing marriages between people of the same 
 
 * " Totemism and Exogamy," IV. io6. Exogamy was almost, 
 though not absolutely, infallible as a preventive of marriage among 
 near kin. It would fail to prevent marriages of father and daughter 
 under the matriarchal system, where the children belonged to the 
 tribe of the mother. But for these cases a tribe could rely on the 
 instinctive horror with which such marriages would usually be 
 regarded 
 
 I ibidem, p. 134. 
 
 } Of course this principal purpose of exogamy would not exclude 
 other subordinate purposes also, e.g. the obtaining of wealth with 
 their wives, and also the extension of tribal influence. On this, see 
 Le Roy, op. cit. p. 108. 
 
 § " Early Law and Custom," p. 228. 
 
454 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 blood were known to the savage races is evident from the 
 precautions taken to separate the sexes even from early 
 youth. 
 
 But Lord Avebury asks, is it reasonable to suppose that 
 in order to prevent a man marrying a very few women to 
 whom he was closely related he would be forbidden half the 
 women of the tribe to whom he was not related at all ? Now 
 this difficulty rests on an entire misunderstanding of the 
 position ; for, first, these tribes were for the most part 
 consanguine tribes, and, therefore, in general all the men and 
 women would be related. Secondly, as Westermarck himself 
 confesses, the forbidden degrees were far more numerous 
 amongst the -savage tribes than amongst civilised peoples.* 
 Of a certain savage race Westermarck relates that a man of 
 the tribe " will not marry a girl whose relationship by blood 
 to himself can be traced, no matter how distantly it may be." 
 Thirdly, it is pointed out by Starcke f that as a rule exogamy 
 affected not the tribe but the smaller clans composing the 
 tribe, and that, though it is not quite certain, there are 
 nevertheless reasons for beUeving that the clan was always 
 a group of kinsfolk either known to be related by blood or 
 kept together by the idea of common descent. J 
 
 We think, therefore, it can be said with certainty that 
 exogamy was not due to any such accidental causes as are 
 enumerated in the beginning of this note, that it represented, 
 on the contrary, some kind of reformatory movement amongst 
 the savage peoples, and that it was a device adopted in 
 order to prevent the marriage of kin. " Exogamy," writes 
 E. S. Hartland, F.S.A.,§ " as generally understood, has 
 nothing to do with race or nationality. It is simply the 
 savage rule corresponding to our title of prohibited degrees. 
 A man may not marry . . . one who is akin to him, therefore, 
 he may not marry . . . any member of his clan."|| 
 
 * op. cit. pp. 297, 307. On grounds of consanguinity, therefore, 
 even the whole tribe might easily be excluded. 
 
 t We cannot be certain about the correctness of the first part of 
 this opinion. -f 
 
 t op. cit. p. 224. 
 
 ii Essay in series of Anthropological Essays to Dr. Ed. Tyler 
 (1907), p. 202. 
 
 II We think it fair to state that in his work, " Totemism and 
 Exogamy," Dr. Frazer, having explained (the quotations have already 
 been given) exogamy as a device lor preventing the marriage of near 
 kin, proceeds then to modify this clear statement by adding that 
 this is rather to be regarded as the efiect of exogamy, than the conscious 
 purpose in the mind of those who introduced it. The savage law- 
 givers in the case only acted as " instruments in the hands of that 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 455 
 APPENDIX 
 
 Historical 
 polygyny 
 
 The question arises as to how far polygyny is practised 
 amongst the savage races. It is certain that many of the 
 lower races are polygynous, but not so many as their low 
 moral condition and their sUght opportunities for develop- 
 ment and for the entertaining of the higher natural 
 ideals, would lead us to expect. Mr. Westermarck quotes 
 innumerable instances of savage peoples who are strictly 
 monogynous, and they include some of the races farthest 
 removed from civilisation or from contact with civilised 
 peoples. Indeed, anthropologists are now fairly well 
 agreed, and the fact is a very suggestive one, both for 
 history and for moral science, that the nearer we get 
 back to the primitive stock, the more prevalent and 
 steadfast becomes the monogynous union. It is, as a 
 rule, only when the savage races come into contact with 
 civilisation that polygyny appears among them, which, 
 however, disappears again as we enter the area of civilised 
 peoples. " Monogamy," writes Westermarck,* " always the 
 predominant form of marriage, has been more prevalent at 
 the lowest stages of civilisation than at the somewhat higher 
 stages : whilst at a still higher stage polygyny has again to 
 a great extent yielded to monogamy." Of exceeding great 
 interest in this connection is the study in Comparative 
 Sociology afforded by the races that inhabit the Malay 
 Peninsula, of whom we have already spoken. These races, 
 living in comparatively close proximity to one another, are 
 aU monogynous, but their monogyny becomes less and less 
 defined and firm as they come into closer contact with the 
 conditions of civilisation. The most primitive of aU — ^the 
 Semang Pygmies — ^who have scarcely ever been in contact 
 with civilisation are, says W. W. Skeat,t " strictly mono- 
 unknown power, the masked wizard of history, who by some mysterious 
 process, some subtle alchemy, so often transmutes in the c ucible of 
 suffering the dross of folly and evil into the fine gold of wisdom and 
 good." We do not think that Dr. Frazer's original view has been 
 rendered more lucid or more scientific by this addition. 
 
 * op. cit. p. 505. 
 
 t " Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula." See also P. W. Schmidt, 
 " Die Stellung der Pygmaenvolker," etc. Amongst these peoples 
 there is often before marriage, a good deal of licence, a fact which 
 has led some of the older investigators to consider that the women 
 of this strictly monogynous people were actually common. 
 
456 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 gamic." Amongst the next higher group, i.e. the Sakai, 
 there is some polygyny. The third and highest group 
 (Jakun), i.e. the group that has come into contact with other 
 Malay and also Indian neighbours, is still monogynous, but 
 its monogyny is only " fairly strict." 
 
 Amongst savage races pure polygyny in the sense of a 
 number of wives all equal in point of position in the family 
 is not of common occurrence. Rather, what is found is a 
 kind of monogynous union, one woman alone being regarded 
 as wife in the strict sense, namely, the first wife in point of 
 time, the rest holding the position rather of concubine than 
 of wife, a position completely subordinate to that of the 
 first woman in the union. " Amongst the Greenlanders," 
 writes Westermarck, " and most of the North American 
 tribes who practised polygyny, the first married wife is the 
 mistress of the house . . . Among the Mexicans, Mayas, 
 Chibchas, and Peruvians, the first wife took precedence of 
 the subsequent wives, or, strictly speaking, they had only one 
 true and lawful wife, though as many concubines as they 
 liked." The same custom is attested by M. A. Le Roy as 
 prevalent amongst certain African races.* 
 
 The most interesting conclusion forced upon us by the 
 preceding facts, a conclusion which, without the aid of actual 
 historical record as to the laws and customs of savage tribes, 
 might not have been suspected, is the following : that even 
 the most primitive races are capable of appreciating not only 
 the primary and indispensable laws and requirements of 
 nature, but also her secondary laws, those, viz. that prescribe 
 what is necessary for the developed life — at least within 
 the domain of the family. And this capacity on the part of 
 the savage is not to be wondered at. For the family is the 
 first natural union known to man, it precedes the State and 
 all those positive laws and conventions attaching to State 
 life of which the savage is comparatively ignorant or oblivious ; 
 now, the excellences that constitute the better or more 
 developed life of the family are excellences principally of 
 nature herself, and are not the creation of positive law or 
 convention ; and, therefore, they are clearly known to the 
 savage tribes. 
 
 POLYANDRY 
 
 If, as St. Thomas Aquinas allows, absolute promiscuity 
 may have obtained in spite of its unnatural character amongst 
 
 * " La Religion des Primitifs," p. loi. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 457 
 
 certain very degenerate races, then we £^re not to be astonished 
 if some of the savage races are also found t6 be polyandric. 
 Rarely has polyandry been found to affect an entire com- 
 munity ; its ravages are generally confined to a few de- 
 generate households or to a small district. Nevertheless, 
 there are cases in which polyandry has obtained a fairly 
 wide latitude and even received some kind of public recog- 
 nition. 
 
 The cause of polyandry is generally two-fold, viz. poverty, 
 whereby the multiplication of families is rendered difficult, 
 and scarcity of women, which is quite a common feature of 
 some savage tribes. " Very remarkable," writes Wester- 
 marck,* " is the striking coincidence of polyandry with the 
 great poverty of the country in which it prevails. It seems 
 to be beyond doubt that this practice, as a rule, is due to 
 scarcity of women." " Polyandry," writes Hobhouse,f " is 
 by comparison (with polygyny) an exceptional practice, the 
 principal caiises of which are most probably poverty and a 
 deficiency in the number of women. On the evidence before 
 us it is hardly to be described as an institution belonging to 
 one of the great types of social organisation." Another 
 reason sometimes , quoted for the existence of polyandry is 
 that it is a " device to preserve the estate undivided." J 
 Now,, it is hardly to be thought that such a repellent means 
 would be widely chosen for an object so good and reasonable 
 as the preservation of an estate. However, we must admit 
 that this explanation gains some colour from the facts to be 
 described in the following paragraph. 
 
 Polyandry, pure and simple, is of extremely rare occurrence 
 even amongst the most degenerate savage peoples. Where 
 polyandry exists at all it is generally of the type known as 
 Thibetan polyandry, in which an attempt is made to intro- 
 duce modifications in the direction of the monandric union. 
 Two types of polyandry are to be distinguished. One, 
 which is of very rare occurrence, is known as the Nair type § 
 being the kind practised by the Nairs of Malabar, the chief 
 characteristic of which is the fact that the husbands are 
 not related to one another by blood. This is the type we 
 have spoken of as polyandry pure and simple. The other 
 
 * op. cit. p. 472. 
 
 t " The Evolution of Morals," I. 143. 
 
 X Devas, " Studies in Family Life," p. 138. 
 
 § For other characteristics of this type of polyandry see McLennan, 
 " Studies in Ancient History." It is usually accompanied by descent 
 in the female line. 
 
458 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 is known as the Thibetan type, from the fact that it is the 
 type followed in certain polyandric districts in Thibet. Its 
 chief characteristic is that the husbands are all natural 
 brothers, sons of the same parents. It is the only kind of 
 polyandry that can'be said to be widespread to any degree. 
 Now the Nair type of polyandry may easily be explained as a 
 result of degeneracy, poverty, and scarcity of women. Other 
 causes are possible in the case of the Thibetan type. For 
 instance, there is the hypothesis, already mentioned, of the 
 desire to keep an estate undivided. Also it is maintained 
 by some writers that where many brothers are spouses of 
 the same woman, only one, the eldest, is really her husband ; 
 the others are simply illegitimate spouses who cannot m^-rry 
 through want either of money or of women. If this is true 
 then the Thibetan type, which is the only system sufficiently 
 widespread to be of importance, is really not a system of 
 polyandry at all, but a degenerate monandry. It has been 
 pointed out that one at least of the very gravest results of 
 polyandry is avoidable under this Thibetan system, a fact 
 which would tend to some extent to maintain the system in 
 being, viz. that under it, the children, although of uncertain 
 paternity, are certain to be of the same blood as each of the 
 several husbands and, therefore, under any circumstances, 
 the child would not be wholly without the care due to it by 
 its real father. Its blood-relationship with all would secure 
 for it care and support from all. 
 
 We may be allowed to mention that by some writers it 
 has been asserted that polyandry of the Thibetan type must 
 at one time have been more widespread than it is now or 
 was at any time in the historic period. One of the proofs 
 for this assertion is the law of the Levirat laid down in 
 Deuteronomy,* and the Indian allied law of the ^iyoga as 
 laid down in the Law of Manu, both of which are supposed 
 by some writers to be survivals of an ancient legalised 
 Thibetan polyandry. In the Levirat it was decreed that 
 should a husband be childless, at his death his brother should 
 take the widow to wife and rear up children to the deceased, 
 which children also should be known by the name of the deceased. 
 This, it is asserted by McLennan, f can only be a survival 
 from a period when brothers had all a common wife. In 
 
 * Deuteronomy, XXV. 5-10. 
 
 t Fortnightly Review, 1877. In the same journal of same year 
 Spencer replied (p. 897). 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 459 
 
 the Law of Manu,* it is laid down that not only should the 
 brother of the deceased marry the widow, "but that even 
 during the life of a childless husband his wife should be 
 espoused to her brother-in-law, and the children born of 
 him are regarded as the children of the really childless 
 parent. 
 
 Now, McLennan's hypothesis is on the face of it far-fetched 
 and even opposed to the facts. It is far-fetched because it 
 ignores the most natural explanation of all, which is, that 
 amongst many primitive tribes the property goes not to the 
 son but to the brother of the deceased, and the widow would 
 be regarded as included in a man's belongings. And even 
 when the property went to the son it is impossible that his 
 widow should pass as wife to the son, who was of course her 
 own son as well as the son of his father. The widow, there- 
 fore, would Jiaturally pass to her brother-in-law. But the 
 really central reason why the widow was taken to wife at 
 all by the brother of the deceased is clearly expressed in 
 Deuteronomy, and it very properly fits in with all that we 
 know of the sentiments of the people concerned, viz. that 
 the name of the dead man might not be allowed to die. 
 Amongst a race where childlessness was regarded as a grave 
 misfortune it is intelligible that the continuance of a man's 
 name should be considered of importance, and that even by a 
 fiction of the law he should be regarded as not without 
 descendants. McLennan's hypothesis is, therefore, not 
 necessary in order to explain the facts. On the contrary, it 
 is even at variance with the facts, for if the Levirat is simply 
 a survival of polyandry there is no reason why the obligation 
 of marrying a brother's widow should be confined to the case 
 of a childless marriage. The Levirat is, therefore, evidently 
 essentially connected with the childlessness of the first 
 marriage, and not with any previous polyandric system. 
 
 There is no proof, therefore, that polyandry existed in the 
 past in any wider degree than that in which it obtains to-day ; 
 and, as we have seen, the practice of polyandry is confined 
 amongst savage races to very narrow limits. Even, however, 
 if polyandry obtained more widely, and even if it should 
 ever obtain recognition amongst races now accounted 
 civilised, this would in no way diminish the intrinsic evil of 
 the system, or modify the opposition in which it stands to 
 nature's primary laws. 
 
 * See " Ordinances of Manu " (trans, by A. Cook Burnell), IX. 59 
 In particular see note i, p. 254. 
 
46o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 INDISSOLUBILITY 
 
 As we said before, even the poorest savage races are 
 capable of realising the things necessary for the family life, 
 and necessary even for the better life of the family. And hence 
 it is that even amongst those savage tribes that practise 
 divorce, divorce is always recognised as a great evil.* But 
 many of the poorest savage races prohibit divorce in every 
 shape, and their opposition to it is determined not only by 
 the effects of divorce on the race but by the claims of human 
 affection, the rights of women, and of the children, as well as 
 those other considerations which have been mentioned in 
 the present chapter in connection with indissolubility. The 
 requirements of the family hfe are easily understood even 
 by the most untutored mind. And, therefore, as we said, 
 many of the lowest races resist divorce. In the Andaman 
 Islands, writes 'Westermarck,f " no incompatibility of temper 
 or other cause is allowed to dissolve the union." " The 
 Veddahs of Ceylon have a proverb that death alone separates 
 husband and wife." The same holds true of the Papuans of 
 New Guinea, of several of the tribes of the Indian Archipelago, 
 California, the Rocky Mountains, of the Iroquois, the Pata- 
 gonians (at all events where there are children), the Maoris 
 (in large measure), the Solomon Islanders; also in New 
 Guinea, and amongst the Zulus. 
 
 Where, of course, the level of morahty all round is low, 
 divorce is frequent. But it is a strange thing to find among 
 the rudest peoples of the earth so many who, moved by the 
 higher feehngs of justice and affection, are faithful to the 
 marriage bond through every adversity, and in face of all 
 influences urging to its dissolution. 
 
 * Le Roy, op. cit. p. 103. 
 t op. cit. p. 517. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 THE STATE— ITS NATURE, ORIGIN, AND END 
 
 Definition 
 
 The State is a perfect and self-sufficing society, con- 
 sisting of many families, united under a common ruler, 
 for the attainment of the complete welfare and life of 
 the community. 
 
 First, the State is a perfect society. By a perfect 
 society is meant one which is not subject to any other 
 natural society, its end not being part of or tributary to 
 the end of any other. The State is subject to no other 
 natural society. It is the highest of all because its 
 end is the highest and widest possible in the order of 
 nature. 
 
 There is another sense in which we sometimes speak 
 of a society as perfect, viz. that it has at its disposal 
 all the means necessary for attaining its end, in other 
 words, that it is self-sufficing. The State is perfect in 
 this sense also. Self-sufficiency is not only an attribute, 
 but the chief distinguishing mark also of the State, as 
 will be seen in our discussion on the origin of the State. 
 The State, therefore, is a perfect society in the fullest 
 sense. 
 
 The State consists immediately of families and re- 
 motely of individuals. This we know from the position 
 of the family in the order of nature. In nature there 
 are three perfectly definite and distinctive units, the 
 individual, the family, and the State. In the order of 
 nature the family stands midway between the individual 
 and the State, just as in the human body the organs 
 stand midway between the cells and the whole organism, 
 
 461 
 
462 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 And just as on account of this order of nature the body 
 is said to be composed immediately of organs or limbs, and 
 not of cells, so also society or the State is to be con- 
 ceived as composed immediately of families and not of 
 individuals. 
 
 The State is an organism presided over by a common 
 ruler, for without a ruling authority the State could 
 not attain its end. This we shall attempt to establish 
 more fully in our discussion on political authority. 
 
 The chief end of the State is the attainment of the 
 complete life and welfare of the community. It is not 
 the function of the State to procure the welfare of the 
 individual or the family. The individual and the family 
 are provided by nature with faculties and energies for 
 pursuing their own good. The end which the State pro- 
 cures is the welfare of the social body as such. Again, 
 a community falling very far short of the degree of 
 differentiation and organisation required for a State 
 might succeed to some extent in promoting even the 
 public welfare. But it is only in the State that man can 
 develop to the full extent of his natural faculties, and 
 attain to the complete life. 
 
 The meaning and significance of this definition will be 
 more fully understood from what is now to follow on 
 the origin of the State.* 
 
 The Origin of the State 
 
 As we have said, the first and most elementary form 
 of human society known to nature is the family. We 
 speak here of the family in a wide sense as consisting 
 of parents, children, grandchildren, and the other im- 
 mediate blood relations. These constitute one definite 
 and distinctive natural unit. 
 
 .We have claimed that the family is provided by nature 
 with capacities and energies for promoting its own 
 
 * " He," says Aristotle, " who considers things in their first growth 
 and origin, whether a State or anything else, will obtain the clearest 
 view of them." — Pol. I. 2. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 463 
 
 welfare. But the welfare which the single family is 
 capable of promoting is of necessity narrow and ele- 
 mentary. It extends to the mere daily wants of the 
 family ; and it falls very far short of what we speak 
 of as the developed or the higher life of man. In every 
 relation of life there are things the providing of which 
 requires the co-operation of many minds and hands ; 
 and these the mere family could not supply. 
 
 But as the family grows, the end which the family 
 becomes capable of attaining also grows. The children 
 of the original family increase in number, and in their 
 turn marry and found new families, and thus a social 
 environment begins to form in which exchange of 
 services or division of labour becomes possible, and so 
 the conditions of the higher or more developed life 
 begin to be provided. It is to such collections of inter- 
 related families, united together for mutual companion- 
 ship and support, that Aristotle gives the name of 
 "village community" {kiLixti). Socially it represents a 
 distinct advance on the simple family, and it represents 
 also the first distinctive stage attained in the develop- 
 ment of society out of the family. 
 
 But even when the village community * has appeared 
 and co-operation and organisation have been made 
 possible and the more developed life has already begun, 
 many of the most essential requirements may still be 
 wanting. There will be need, for instance, of some kind 
 of military organisation for providing protection from 
 enemies without ; need also of economic organisation 
 within, so that the units may not be altogether at the 
 mercy of chance for their supplies from abroad and of 
 the weather for their home crops ; above all, there will 
 be need of some degree of juridical organisation, i.e. of 
 a common ruler, of a common body of laws for unifying 
 
 * Amongst uncivilised communities the horde might be regarded 
 as corresponding to the family village-community which usually must 
 have been consanguine ; the tribe would correspond to the group of 
 such communities. For " horde," " clan " and " tribe " see Giddings, 
 " Principles of Sociology," p. 258. 
 
464 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the forces and capacities of the community and dirfecting 
 them to one end, and of tribunals of justice for settling 
 disputes between the members. It is only gradually 
 that such a degree of organisation is finally reached as 
 really puts the growing community into a position to 
 provide for all its wants. Before this condition is 
 reached, aggregation may or may not occur of a small 
 group of these consanguine villages, but when this con- 
 dition is finally attained, and in whatever way it is 
 attained, the community is no longer to be regarded 
 as a mere group of distinct individuals or units, even 
 units in alliance, but as a single unit, animated by a 
 single life, self-centred, independent, self-sufhcient.* It 
 is this condition of self-sufficiency that inarks the end 
 of the process whereby the family grows, develops itself 
 economically, differentiates itself politically, and finally 
 emerges as a complete State. The condition of self- 
 sufficiency is not only the end of the process but also the 
 differentiating mark of the State. Of course, it is possible 
 that even a single consanguine village-community might 
 in some cases so increase in numbers and develop in 
 organisation under the direction of a family head as to 
 
 * By the self-sufficiency of the State is not meant a condition in 
 which every want of the State is actually provided for, but only such 
 a degree of crganisation and independence as normally enables it 
 to provide the means whereby the growing wants of the community 
 may be successively met. A community may be unable actually 
 to provide for all its wants. It may suffer from insufficient food- 
 supply or insufficient money ; but if all those organs are present 
 whereby, noimally, States provide for the needs of the community, 
 it may rightly be spoken of as a State. Much less is self-sufficiency 
 to be regarded as the faculty of providing everything out of its own 
 territory. Not t very State, for instance, can supply itself with wheat 
 or coal. But the organisation should be such as normally enables a 
 State to supply all wants whether from within or without. 
 
 It has been asserted by Jellinek (" Das Recht des Modernen 
 Staates ") that the conception of self-sufficiency in Aristotle is a 
 purely economic conception, that in the " Politics " a community 
 is regarded as self-sufficing if it can provide for its own economic 
 needs. This is a very narrow view to take of the self-sufficing State, 
 and it is completely disproved by Aristotle's own analysis of the 
 conception in " Politics," VII. 8, 7 and 8. It is there described as 
 including the capacity of providing for food, arms, the arts, revenue, 
 religion, and the tribunals of law and justice. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 465 
 
 reach the stage of self-sufficiency without addition from 
 outside ; normally speaking, however, a 'high degree of 
 differentiation and organisation can only be attained 
 by the aggregation of several consanguine village- 
 communities each with its own head. But, as we have 
 said, in whatever way it is attained, the condition of 
 self-sufficiency brings the community so developed and 
 organised under a perfectly new social category, distinct 
 altogether in end and aim, in potentialities and function, 
 in its rights and obligations, from the family or limited 
 group of families out of which it sprang. But it is 
 because for the most part it is out of the union of several 
 village-communities that the State is formed that 
 Aristotle takes account of this " aggregate " form of union 
 only, in his definition. " When several villages," he 
 writes,* " are united in a single community, perfect and 
 large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufficing, the 
 State comes into existence," and, again, the State is " a 
 union of families and villages, having as its end a perfect 
 and self-sufficing life." 
 
 We see, therefore, how, naturally, the family widens into 
 the village-community, and how the vUlage-community 
 comes gradually to acquire such a degree of organisation 
 as makes it a self-sufficient society or a State. 
 
 Of course, it is to be admitted that a State might also 
 originate in other ways than as a development out of 
 the family. For instance, just as to-day a number of 
 individual men wholly unrelated by blood might meet 
 together, organise themselves into a single society, 
 appoint a ruler, and declare themselves a State, claiming 
 equality with the other States of the world, f so it is 
 possible that in the beginning many persons unrelated 
 by blood might come together from different districts, 
 attracted, let us say, by the rich pasturage afforded to 
 
 * " Politics," I. 2, 3. 
 
 t As happened in 1854 in the case of the Orange Free State. The 
 community in this case had previously been subject to another rule. 
 Yet in this year it formed itself into a new State in the manner above 
 indicated. 
 
 VOL. !I — 30 
 
466 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 their cattle, and these persons might either gradually 
 or suddenly become organised into a single community 
 possessed of all the characteristics of a State. But such 
 accidental associations as these, if they ever occurred, 
 must have been very rare and exceptional, since in the 
 pre-historic period it was the blood-tie that offered the 
 surest guarantee of protection from enemies without, 
 and of friendship and co-operation within. And, there- 
 fore, the most natural, and, as a consequence, the normal 
 way in which the State would take its rise would be as 
 a development out of the family. It is to this extent 
 that Aristotle also defends the family origin of the 
 State. The family was not the only possible .origin of 
 the State, but it was the most natural origin " The 
 most natural form of the village," * writes Aristotle (and, 
 we may add, since the most natural so also the commonest 
 form), " appears to be that of a colony from the family, 
 composed of children and grandchildren." It is, there- 
 fore, right to speak of the State as normally originating 
 in the family f through the medium of the village- 
 community. 
 
 From all this it is possible to determine in a general 
 way the manner in which the State first made its ap- 
 pearance among men. Its first appearance was not of 
 sudden occurrence ; rather its coming was of gradual 
 growth and the result of a very long process of develop- 
 ment. Again, though each stage in the growth of the 
 State was itself a result of conscious effort on the part 
 of man, striving ever to meet the growing needs of the 
 community, and though for this reason it would not be 
 right to speak of the State as in its origin wholly outside 
 of human purpose, since to aim at the successive stages 
 by which self-sufficiency is reached is, in effect and 
 
 * fidXiffra di Kara (j>v(nv. — " Politics," i. 2, 6. 
 
 ■f This does not commit us to the " patriarchal " theory of the 
 earliest form of society as defended by Maine. Other opposed theories 
 might be admitted without prejudice to the view expressed above 
 that the State is a growth out of the family (See McLennan, " The 
 Patriarchal Theory," p. 27). 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 467 
 
 virtually, to aim at complete self-sufficiency which is 
 the characteristic mark of the State, nevertheless, the 
 State itself could not be said to have been consciously 
 and formally aimed at from the beginning. Men do 
 not, as a rule, aim at conditions of which they never 
 had experience, more particularly conditions which it 
 would be difficult to conjure up in imagination without 
 experience. The State, therefore, was a growth, and 
 to a large extent it followed the ordinary laws of growth. 
 It grew to some extent as plants grow, spontaneously 
 and independently of the contrivance of reason. " It 
 glided," as Mr. N. L. Newman writes,' " imperceptibly 
 into existence as men became successively aware of the 
 various needs bound up with their nature." * The; 
 work of forming political societies was, as Mr. Bryce f 
 tells, us, "done by tribes and small city communities 
 before they began to be conscious that they were forming 
 institutions under which to live." The State, therefore, 
 was a growth and was not from the beginning clearly 
 conceived by reason. But the stages that led to its 
 formation were, as we said, for the most part devised 
 by reason, and to that extent the State is to be described, 
 not like the plant as a spontaneous growth, but as a 
 human contrivance, as a product of human reason. In 
 the first chapter of his work on Representative Govern- 
 ment John Stuart Mill gives an account of two opposing 
 extreme theories | on the origin of the State, one of 
 which represents it as a natural growth independent 
 altogether of human thought and contrivance, the other 
 of which likens it to a machine that is made by human 
 hands and is wholly a result of human effort and purpose. 
 Evidently the view defended by Aristotle and the view 
 which is given here of the origin of the State occupies 
 
 * Introduction to " The Politics oi Aristotle," I. 27. 
 ■ t " Studies in History and Jurisprudence," II. 97. 
 
 I The first of these theories is defended by Comte (" Positive 
 Philosophy ") and in a modified form by Seeley (" Introduction to 
 Political Science "), the second by the authors of the social-contract 
 theory — Hobbes, Rousseau, Locke, and Kant. 
 
468 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a mean position between these two theories. The State 
 is to a large extent a spontaneous growth, a gradual 
 expansion from the family. But it is largely also a 
 result of thought, it is a product of many converging 
 acts of human reason. And as it depended on human 
 reason in its origin, so it is reason that directs it now, 
 and forms and shapes it, as the needs of man increase, 
 to ever newer and higher perfections.* 
 
 * Aristotle's account of the origin of Society as a development 
 out of the family is now very generally accepted by sociologists as 
 the only account that harmonises with recent investigations into the 
 organisation of the primitive tribes, which, it is stated, being all 
 instances of arrested development, must now, as social communities, 
 be organised on the same basis as that on which society was formed 
 in its first beginnings. Any attempt at enumeration of writers 
 upon this subject would here be out of place, but we may point to 
 one or two authorities. For instance, Maine in " Early Institutions," 
 p. t)4, writes : " The most recent researches into the primitive history 
 of society point to the conclusion that the earliest tie which knitted 
 men together in communities was consanguinity or kinship." And 
 L. T. Hobhouse ("Morals in Evolution," I. <]9) writes; "primitive 
 and savage society appears to rest generally on kinship. . . . The 
 clan or group organisation with generally something of the wider 
 tribal unity forms the normal society of the primitive world." " That 
 the most ancient forms of government," writes Schrader (" Pre- 
 historic Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples," p. 393) " amongst Indo- 
 European peoples are based on the organisation of the family is an 
 established fact." And Prof. Bury writes (" History of Greece," 
 p. ( 9) — " the true power in primitive society was the family. When 
 we first meet the Greeks they live together in family communities. 
 Their villages are habitations of a 7^1/os, i.e. of a clan or family in a 
 wide sense, all the members being descended from a common ancestor 
 and bound together by the tie of blood." See also Pelham's " Rome," 
 
 p. 19. 
 
 The proofs to which appeal is made in support of this view of the 
 origin of society and the State, viz that it is a development out of 
 the family, through the village-community, cannot be fully developed 
 here. But a few of these proofs may be briefly mentioned. There 
 is first (a) the a priori proof, viz. that as the ancient families increased 
 and subdivided they would naturally attain to some degree of organisa- 
 tion, and as, in the case of these ancient peoples, it would be difficult 
 to superimpose on this family organisation anotlier formed according 
 to a completely difierent principle, so it is necessary to suppose that 
 the earliest societies were all bas;d upon kinship, in other words, 
 that the family and the State organisations were coterminous and 
 even identical, [b) The second proof is based upon the testimony 
 of the earliest historians. There is, for instance, Thucidides' reference 
 to the early villages of Greece, and to the " skilful Athenian general 
 Demosthenes (who founded his hopes of conquering Aetolia on the 
 weakness and disunion of a people still living in unwalled villages 
 (rard KU/tas 6.Tux'<TTom)." These evidently are the family-village 
 communities mentioned by other writers ; there is also his reference 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 469 
 
 We now go on to describe very briefly the later rela- 
 tions of the State to the family before the State assumed 
 the condition of complete and final independence of the 
 family out of which it sprang. Having developed out 
 of the family, the State, would, in the beginning, and for 
 
 to the Ozolian Locrians also living in lamily villages. Again, Aristotle 
 himself testifies to 'the family village-communities of Greece, (c) 
 Thirdly, all writers are agreed that the most primitive existing tribes 
 are ( rganised on the basis of family kinship (see, for instance, Spencer 
 " Pohtical Institutions," p. 27^) and it is supposed that these primitive 
 races reflect the most ancient form of social organisation, (d) Fourthly, 
 there is the interesting argument based on survivals to the effect that 
 even when the State had long begun to lead an independent life 
 distinct from that of the family union, there still remained within it 
 traces of the family out of which it sprang, for instance, the yh-ri of 
 Athens, the gentes of Rome, all of which were, like the village-com- 
 munities, groups consisting of a certain number of families. These 
 family elements would seem to be the same as the old village-com- 
 munities, because, as Warde Fowler says (" The City State of Greeks 
 and Romans," p. 3*;), Aristotle speaks of the inhabitants of a Kiljiitt as 
 being 6/ii57a\aKTes (suckled with the same milk) a word which, we 
 know, was later appUed to the members proper of an Athenian yivos. 
 " These," Warde Fowler adds, " survived into the life of the State 
 and even to the very end of it, because the ideas of kinship and religion 
 could not be dissolved among them and were strong enough to hold 
 them firmly together lunder the new order of things ; and they remain 
 . . as a powerful conservative influence holding back the State 
 from a too rapid development as a new organism, and, as it were, 
 keeping it continually in mind of the rock from which it had been 
 hewn." (e) Finally, there is the argument in favour of the family 
 origin of the State which is developed by Maine and is based on 
 evidence derived from Comparative Jurisprudence and especially on 
 evidence derived from the study of Roman Law (see Maine, " Ancient 
 Law," ch. v.). 
 
 We think it well to emphasise the fact at this point that the theory 
 that the State is a development out of the family, is of two forms, 
 and that in the text above we have not committed ourselves to either 
 of these forms. We have merely maintained that the State did 
 originate in the family. The two forms of the theory in question are, 
 first, that a single family extended itself into a large body of kindred, 
 this being accompanied by a recognition of superiority in an individual 
 or in some part of the greater family specially representing the original 
 parent. The other is the theory that a family grew and extended, 
 that then aggregation occurred of many of these large units under the 
 headship either of one or of a body composed of the heads of each. 
 The large units would in this latter case be the gentes, and it is main- 
 tained by some that the heads of these gentes were the patres of the 
 old Senates, and that this was the original form of government. The 
 fact is that the State may have originated from the family in both 
 these ways. Aristotle's theory of the union of several villages in the 
 State would seem to lay special emphasis on the aggregation form of 
 the theory. 
 
470 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a long time afterwards, retain the outward forms of 
 the family organisation, for instance, the monarch might 
 be the patriarch of the community, and it would retain 
 these forms for one particular reason, viz. on account of 
 the strength and the rigidity which the family organisa- 
 tion imparted to society in the beginning, at a period, 
 viz. when " coherence," as Spencer tells us, " was stiU 
 small and the want of structure great." But in its 
 nature and purpose the State is, as we saw, distinct 
 from the family, and, therefore, it is to be expected that 
 in process of time the State would find itself necessitated 
 to put off the outward form of government that had 
 come down to it from the family, and proceed to initiate 
 and develop other forms of government more suitable 
 to its own special aims and requirements. 
 
 Only in this way could the State have been enabled 
 finally to put off the shackles that the rigidity of the 
 family structure imposed upon it, and to obtain for 
 itself freedom to expand in the directions and to the 
 degree to which its own capacities entitled it. This 
 transition from the family form of organisation to other 
 more proper and more efficient because less rigid forms 
 is thus described by Seeley,* " The authority of the 
 pater-familias may or may not be primaeval and univer- 
 sal ; but certainly in those cases where we are able to trace 
 the history of States furthest back, the starting-point 
 seems not to be a condition of universal confusion but 
 a powerful and rigid family organisation. The weak 
 were not at the mercy of the strong, because each weak 
 man was a member of the family, and the family pro- 
 tected him with an energy of which modern society 
 can form no conception. ... In these cases, too, we 
 are able to trace that the State was not suddenly intro- 
 duced as a kind of heroic remedy for an intolerable 
 confusion, but that the germ of organisation given by 
 nature was developed artificially ; that the family 
 grew into something more than a mere family, that 
 
 * " Introduction to Political Science," p. 55. 
 
THE STATE- -ITS NATURE 471 
 
 it developed itself gradually so mucli, ^nd acquired so 
 much additional organisation as to disengage itself from 
 the literal family which now re-appeared as an inde- 
 pendent form within it, and that at last the conventional 
 or fictitious family {i.e. the State) acquired a character 
 of its own, until it first forgot and then at last denied 
 and repudiated its connection with the natural family." 
 
 CONCLUSION — ^THE STATE A NATURAL INSTITUTION 
 
 From all this it is clear that the State is a natural 
 institution, an integral portion of the design of nature, 
 and not a product of chance or convention of any kind. 
 It is natural, first, because it is founded on the most 
 natural of all social institutions, the family. Secondly, 
 it is natural because it grew out of the family naturally, 
 the State being nothing more than the natural expansion 
 of the family. As the family developed, without 
 formally aiming at the State, it approached nearer 
 and nearer to the condition of a State. The State was 
 only the flower that marked the coming to maturity 
 of the expanding family. It is, of course, true that the 
 State might in a particular case take its rise independently 
 of the family. It might in a particular case be brought 
 into existence by a compact on the part of a number 
 of citizens unrelated to one another by blood. But for 
 the most part it must have arisen out of the family, 
 and granted that the family expanded at all within the 
 limits of its natural capacity, it had to expand into a 
 State — there was nothing else into which it could ex- 
 pand. Thirdly, the State is natural because its end ia 
 natural, and the State is necessary for that end. Without 
 the State, development would be impossible. Without 
 it our natural capacities should have remained capacities 
 merely. They could never have attained to their natural 
 objects. All that has been attained in the way of 
 knowledge and all that has been accomplished by human 
 energy in the way of art, science, commerce, all, in fact. 
 
472 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 that goes to make up our natural civilisation, with the 
 exception of the merest rudimentary beginnings, all or 
 nearly all of this has been attained through the instru- 
 mentality of the State. And that is why the State was 
 from the beginning a necessity to man, why, granted 
 that men aimed at development in any sense, the State 
 had to appear. It had to appear because without it 
 human perfection could not be attained, because without 
 it man would be dwarfed and cramped on the mental 
 side just as confinement in a dungeon would cramp him 
 in his physical capacities. The State is our natural 
 environment, and in it alone the fullness of our natural 
 rational life becomes possible. " In the State," writes 
 Mr. N. L. Newman, a man " breathes at last his native 
 air, reaches his full stature and attains the end of his 
 being." And as that which is necessary for our physical 
 life is a natural necessity to man, so the State is 
 natural, since, without it, development is impossible 
 and the fullness of our natural perfection remains un- 
 attained. 
 
 The End of the State 
 
 The end of the State is the furtherance of man's 
 natural welfare in regard to those things which cannot be 
 attained by the activities of the family alone. And 
 since as we saw the family is capable of attaining to no 
 more than the ordinary daily necessities, or what Aristotle 
 speaks of as " mere life," it becomes the function and 
 end of the State to supply the things that are necessary 
 for the better or more perfect, or the more developed 
 life.* Let us see what this implies. It is a well-known 
 maxim of economic theory that a man's interests are, 
 generally speaking, looked after more effectively by 
 himself than by others ; and, therefore, as we have 
 already said, it can be no part of the natural end of the 
 State to promote the private interests of any individual 
 
 * To{i iv ^TjV. — as Aristotle expresses it. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 473 
 
 or family, to take over control of the things that are 
 strictly and naturally their proper interest, or what we 
 speak of as their private good. But there is a common 
 good as well as a particular or private good — a good of 
 society as such as well as a good of the individual as 
 such ; and, just as the individual good ought to be 
 entrusted to the individual, so the common good ought 
 to be entrusted to, and indeed can be secured only by, 
 the community or the State. This is the first and chief 
 end of the State — the promotion of the common good or 
 the good of the social body as such. 
 
 Let us briefly attempt to determine what is contained 
 in this important conception. By the common good is 
 not meant the common element in all individual goods 
 or the things that all men in common require. For 
 instance all men require food and drink, but these things 
 it is not the business of the State to supply. The common 
 good, as we said, means the good of society as such, 
 and it is opposed to and contrasted with the good of 
 the individual as such. For instance, it is the business 
 of the State to protect the community from enemies 
 without, and to furnish the machinery and prepare 
 the organisation required for this end. Again, it is 
 the business of the State to make laws for the com- 
 munity, to set up tribunals for administering justice, 
 to establish a proper educational system, to regulate 
 commerce so that the whole community may not suffer 
 by the inordinate action of a few individuals. All these 
 things are matters appertaining to the good of the 
 community as such. Again, it is the business of the 
 State to provide and maintain such an environment, 
 physical and moral, as is required for the welfare of 
 individuals, physical and moral, for though individuals 
 may benefit by such an environment, it really is, properly 
 speaking, a " good," of the whole community, and the 
 providing of it is wholly outside the capacity of indi- 
 viduals. Men could not be healthy in unsanitary sur- 
 roundings. Virtue can prosper only with difficulty 
 
474 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 where the level of public morality is low and the atmo- 
 sphere morally offensive. 
 
 • In determining the end of the State, however, one 
 ought not to interpret the common good in a narrow 
 sense as including only the things that are in strictness 
 common, that is, necessary for all. For there are many 
 necessities that are not the interests of all, which yet 
 are not to be regarded as private interests merely ; 
 they are public interests since they are necessary for 
 the public of a particular place ; and these things may 
 also be regarded as a part of the common good and as 
 falling within the end of the State. If a bridge is 
 necessary, or if a railway is required for developing the 
 resources of a particular district, the State may reasonably 
 be expected to concern itself with such things and lend 
 encouragement and even pecuniary aid — whether out 
 of the general exchequer or the local revenues is quite 
 another question. 
 
 But the question arises — is the promotion of the 
 common good in the broad sense just given, which 
 manifestly is the chief end of the State, also its only 
 end ? Has the State no concern with the individual 
 good ? To answer this question we have again to 
 appeal to the problem of the ground and origin of the 
 State, on which, as we said in the beginning of this 
 chapter, depends our whole theory of its end and function. 
 The State we have seen to be necessary for man because 
 the individual and the family are not self-sufficient. 
 Neither individual nor family can supply the things 
 required for the developed life. The State can, and 
 does, and is instituted in order to, supply them. The 
 measure of her function, therefore, is to be found in 
 the necessities of man and the inability of the individual 
 and the family to provide these necessities. Anything, 
 therefore, which is necessary, whether for the individual 
 or for society at large, and which the individual or the 
 family is not in a position to supply, may legitimately 
 be regarded as included in the end of the State. Here, 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 475 
 
 however, we have to institute a narrower rule than that 
 followed in our interpretation of the common good. 
 The common or social good is naturally a function of 
 society or the State, and, therefore, it was right that 
 we should interpret this idea in the broadest spirit 
 when determining the end of the State. In other words, 
 in connection with the common good we may put as 
 much on the State as it can possibly bear. But the 
 individual good is naturally the concern of the individual 
 only, and, therefore, in attempting to define the rights 
 of the State in regard to the individual interest it is 
 necessary to confine her rights within the narrowest 
 possible compass. The State may certainly concern 
 itself with the individual good, but only in so far as 
 anything is in strictness necessary, and only in so far 
 as the individual is wholly debarred from attaining the 
 things necessary. It is no part of the end of the State 
 to help an individual to amass a fortune, or to avoid 
 financial failure. But the functions of the State do 
 extend to the case of paupers and lunatics who are wholly 
 unable to provide for themselves. Only in one case is 
 it open to the State to help a failing industry, viz. where 
 its maintenance is in some way a public necessity and 
 subvention of some kind is absolutely required. It 
 could never be allowed to spend public money on a 
 business in the interest of the individual alone. 
 
 From all this we see how wide and all-inclusive are 
 the end and office of the State. Ever since the seven- 
 teenth century writers have been formiilating theories 
 as to the end of the State, which on account of their 
 restrictive character are spoken of as " limitative " or 
 " minimisin.t^ " theories,* and' these stand in direct and 
 
 * Two peculiar views as to the end of the State which we have 
 not found an opportunity for considering in the text are those of 
 Seeley and Montesquieu (" De I'Esprit des Lois "). According to 
 the former writer the State, being a natural growth, has no end We 
 do not, says Seeley, speak about the object or end of a tree or an animal. 
 According to Montesquieu each State has its own proper end, con- 
 sisting of the main object at which each State habitually aims. The 
 end, e.g. of England is political liberty ; of Athens, culture, 
 
47,6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 marked contrast to the broad and essentially reasonable 
 theory advocated by Aristotle. By some the State is 
 regarded as possessed of one function only, viz. to pro- 
 tect individuals from aggression on the part of other 
 individuals within the same community,* or, what is 
 practically the same idea, to determine the limits within 
 which human activities ought to be restricted if they are 
 not to hinder the activities of others, f Certain writers J 
 also, though favouring a wider function than this (for 
 instance, the promotion of the best life) would yet limit 
 the means which it is open to the State to utilise for 
 this purpose to the negative function of " hindering 
 hindrances " to the best life. How different in every 
 essential is Aristotle's exposition where the end of the 
 State is represented as in the first place, positive like 
 the State itself, and in the second place as co-extensive 
 practically with life, or at all events with the developed 
 life. 
 
 And this, we believe, is the view which alone harmonises 
 with reason and with fact. For, first, the State came 
 into existence in order that man might become possessed 
 of those things which could not be obtained by individual 
 effort, and the end of anything ought to be as wide as 
 the necessities that give it rise. Again, the State has 
 never itself confined its operations within the narrow 
 sphere assigned to it in these limitative theories. It has 
 not only intervened to prevent injustice and to hinder 
 hindrances to development, but it has itself assumed 
 offices of immense magnitude lying wholly outside the 
 sphere of litigation and justice, and has undertaken 
 work that could in no sense be regarded" as negative or 
 
 * e.g. Locke, Hobbes, Kant. The State so limited in its functions 
 is sometimes spoken of as Rechtsstaat, or the legal State, or the police 
 State. Aristotle makes special reference to this theory in " Politics," 
 III. 9, 6 — "nor does the State exist for the sake of . . security 
 from injustice." 
 
 t Spencer, "The Man versus the State," p. 105. In "Justice," 
 p. 23 he declares that the end of the State consists in preventing 
 interference with the carrying on of individual lives. 
 
 I Bosanquet, " Philosophical Theory of the State," p. 190. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 477 
 
 preventative. And what the State normally does may, 
 as a rule, be regarded as consonant witli, or rather as 
 a part of its natural function. The State, therefore, 
 has, in its own operations, set at nought every limitative 
 theory, as cramping and hindering it, and as falling 
 short of its own capacity for good, and we believe it is 
 for this reason more than any other that political 
 theorists have of late years shown so marked a tendency 
 to discard what is called the modern for the more ancient 
 theory of the end of the State. " As to the question " 
 (of the limits of State action), writes Sir Frederick 
 Pollock,* " I do not think it can be fully dealt with 
 except by going back to the older question — what is 
 the State for ? And although I cannot justify myself 
 at length I will bear witness that for my own part I 
 think this is a point at which we may well say ' Back 
 to Aristotle.' " It is this broad and only practicable 
 view of the end of the State that will be allowed to 
 influence us in the solution of the problem now to 
 follow. 
 
 OF GOVERNMENTAL INTERFERENCE 
 
 From what we have said in regard to the end of the 
 State, it is easy to deduce in general terms the proper 
 limits of the right of governmental interference with 
 human liberty, since the extent of this right is deter- 
 mined by the end of the State, (a) The State, subject 
 to a certain exception to be mentioned presently, can 
 interfere in the free action of individuals in so far as 
 the general or public interest requires. (6) The State 
 can interfere with human liberty even in the interest of 
 individuals, wherever an individual cannot reasonably 
 be supposed to look after his own interest, but, then, 
 only in matters of supreme importance. 
 
 (a) The free and unrestrained pursuit of their own 
 interests by private individuals will sometimes lead 
 
 * " History of the Science of Politics," p. 124 
 
478 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 either to the neglect of things essential for the community 
 or even to the positive infliction of harm on the whole 
 community or a large part of it. In thes6 cases inter- 
 ference by the State may be imposed as a duty, or 
 may at least be regarded as falling within the rights of 
 the State as determined by its end. Thus, landowners 
 might easily be led to neglect the cultivation of forest 
 land, on account of the slow returns Which afforestation 
 affords ; in that case, since timber is necessary for the 
 community, the government would be justified in in- 
 sisting on some of the land being devoted regularly to 
 the cultivation of timber. It may also interfere to 
 prevent the too rapid depletion of mines or fisheries, to 
 terminate disputes, even compulsorily, between em- 
 ployers and employed, or for any purpose connected 
 with the general good. 
 
 (b) Again, though the State should not act as a sub- 
 stitute for the individual, taking over the care of his 
 private interests, as a mother cares for her child, still 
 sometimes there is question of genuine inability on 
 the part of individuals to protect themselves against 
 others or against themselves, and in these cases the 
 State should lend its aid, at all events where the number 
 of individuals affected is so great that their combined 
 interests might be regarded as public and not as private. 
 The State, for instance, might interfere so as to protect 
 the people from the sale of spurious articles, prohibit 
 medical practice on the part of quack doctors,* suppress 
 the sale of very injurious intoxicants, close unsanitary 
 meat-shops, exclude unqualified apothecaries from busi- 
 ness, etc., etc., for though in all these cases it is, strictly 
 speaking, the fault of the individual if he is injured, still 
 a certain inability to provide for themselves may be 
 pleaded, an inability due either to the strength of tempta- 
 tion, or to poverty, or to innate carelessness or stupidity ; 
 and in such cases, therefore, it falls within the rights 
 
 * Or, as Sidgwick says, at all events debar them from_^the right 
 of demanding fees. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 479 
 
 of the State to provide the things that exceed the 
 capacity of the individual and the family. • 
 
 We said in the course of our argument that the State 
 has the right of interfering with the liberty of the sub- 
 ject in the interest of the community, but subject to an 
 exception afterwards to be mentioned. That exception, 
 we now go on to explain. The State has no right of 
 interference in the essentials at all events of those rights 
 which are fundamental in human nature, which precede 
 the State, and are the foundation on which the State 
 itself is built. These rights are a man's own right to 
 life, and a man's right to marry and to found and rear 
 a family. For no reason could the State prevent a man 
 from obtaining the necessary food. For no reason 
 could the State prevent a man from marrying and found- 
 ing a family. The first of these two statements will 
 scarcely be questioned by anybody. The second will 
 in general be allowed. In general, it is admitted that 
 every man has a right to marry and to found a family 
 without interference from the State. But, at times, views 
 have been defended as to the right of the State to control 
 the number of marriages and to limit the rights of parents 
 in the rearing of their children, which are undoubtedly 
 incompatible with the most essential features of the 
 rights of a man over himself and his family. Of these 
 views a brief exposition and criticism will be attempted 
 in the two following sections. 
 
 I The alleged right of the State to restrict the number of 
 marriages. 
 
 " In a country," writes Mill,* " either over-peopled or 
 threatened with being so, to produce children beyond a 
 very small number with the effect of reducing the reward 
 of labour by their competition is a serious offence against 
 all those who live by the remuneration of their labour." 
 
 * " On Liberty," p. 64. 
 
48o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 And again — " The laws which in many countries on the 
 Continent forbid marriage unless the parties can show 
 that they have the means of supporting a family do not 
 exceed the legitimate powers of the State, and whether 
 such laws be expedient or not (a question mainly de- 
 pendent on local circumstances and feelings) they are 
 not objectionable as violations of liberty. Such laws 
 are interferences of the State to prohibit a mischievous 
 act — an act injurious to others, which ought to be a 
 subject of reprobation and social stigma even when it 
 is not deemed expedient to super-add legal punishment. 
 Yet current ideas of liberty which tend so easily to real 
 infringements of the individual in things which con- 
 cern only himself would repel the attempt to put any 
 restraint upon his inclinations when the consequences 
 of their indulgence is a life or lives of wretchedness and 
 depravity in the offspring, with manifold evils to those 
 sufficiently within reach to be in any way affected by 
 their actions." 
 
 For two reasons it is maintained that it is within the 
 power of the State to restrict and regulate the number 
 of marriages — first, because of the effect on society — i.e. 
 either the food supply will fail, as Malthus claimed, or 
 wages will be disastrously reduced as Mill maintained ; 
 secondly, because of the effect on the children born of 
 these marriages ; these children, it is maintained, will 
 be born into poverty and ill-health, and in general into 
 an existence which, instead of a blessing, wiU be a burden 
 to them all their lives. Let us briefly attempt to 
 examine these reasons. 
 
 The old Malthusian doctrine based on the hypothesis 
 of a limited food-supply, scarcely needs to be seriously 
 considered now-a-days, so much has the number of its 
 adherents been reduced, so clearly has it been disproved 
 by actual events, and so far is it opposed to what we 
 now know of the conditions necessary for a continued 
 food-supply. It is disproved, first, by actual events. 
 The population of the world has gone on increasing, 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 481 
 
 and yet the food supply has not failed us, and if difh- 
 ' culties are sometimes felt in regard to it, these diffi- 
 culties are brought about either by insufficiency of 
 labour, and, therefore, as a result of under-population 
 rather than of over-population, or through bad organisa- 
 tion. At one time the world was disorganised through 
 want of proper connection between the different markets 
 of the world. The opening up of all the markets, and 
 their better connection through increased transit and 
 other facilities, have made it clear that food can always 
 be made available where it is required, and that no 
 matter how great the rate of consumption, production 
 can always be faster still. Indeed, taking things as 
 they are, the danger of over-population if ever it existed 
 would seem to become more and more remote as civilisa- 
 tion increases, and as industry and the efficiency of 
 nations grow. The enormous increase that has taken 
 place in the number and extent of cities, the speeding 
 up of industry, not to speak of the greater ravages pro- 
 duced by modern warfare as compared with the old, 
 aU these factors are likely to set up an opposing danger 
 to that considered by Malthus, the danger, viz. of under- 
 population, or the general deterioration of the race ; 
 and if the balance is to be kept between loss and gain 
 so that the population may be maintained at the normal 
 level, it can only be by multiplying marriages as much 
 as possible, and more especially by encouraging a habit 
 of early marriages. 
 
 Again, we said that the doctrine of Malthus was 
 disproved by what we now know of the conditions 
 necessary for a continued food-supply. The rate of 
 increase in the food supply is, according to Malthus, 
 necessarily lower than the natural rate of increase in 
 the population. That theory, if ever it accorded with 
 truth, a supposition which is not supported by history 
 in the past, is directly at variance with the principles 
 of production under modern conditions. Under the 
 old conditions, production was almost wholly a function 
 
 VOL. II — 31 
 
482 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of the natural forces only. The human agent could 
 get out of the earth only what already he found existing 
 in the earth through the operation of the ordinary forces 
 of nature. He could not add to the efficiency of these 
 forces. Under modern conditions the extent of pro- 
 duction is a function to a very great extent of human 
 efficiency. It depends nearly, if not quite, as much 
 on the brains of man as on the natural productiveness 
 of the land. Operating with the natural forces inherent 
 in the earth there are now engaged, in the -production 
 of the food-supply of the world, other forces which are 
 purely human and mental in character, a knowledge of 
 biology, of chemistry, of pathology, whilst the prepara- 
 tion and distribution of that food supply are almost 
 wholly dependent on human knowledge, ingenuity, and 
 skill. For these reasons it is highly important for the 
 continuance and increase of the world's food-supply, and 
 particularly now that land everywhere is being subjected 
 to the process of intensive cultivation, that the human 
 element should not be wanting, that men should be 
 plentiful, that wherever there is natural wealth to be 
 produced there mankind should abound. Human energy 
 and ingenuity can produce food much faster than the 
 human appetite can devour it. For increased food 
 supply what is wanted is increased supply of human 
 hands, not a smaller number of mouths consuming what 
 is produced. 
 
 We now come to the consideration of MiU's two argu- 
 ments. The supply of labour, he tells us, is to be kept 
 low if wages are to be high. What a cruel alternative 
 is here left to the workman, and how far opposed to the 
 kindly economy everywhere evinced by nature in its 
 dealings with men. The poor man, in Mill's theory, 
 must either remain single or starve. To Mill the other 
 alternative does not seem to have occurred, viz. that 
 if wages are insufficient it is the duty of capitalists to 
 forego some of their own profits and to pay a better 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 483 
 
 wage. The theory underlying Mill's argument, that the 
 " wages fund " of a nation at any time is a fixed sum 
 and incapable of increase, is now quite obsolete. 
 
 To Mill's second argument we attach much greater 
 importance, not because of its greater truth, but because 
 it is an argument which finds frequent utterance in 
 present-day discussion on the topic of marriage. Unless, 
 says Mill, the number of marriages, particularly amongst 
 poor people, is regulated by the State, children will be 
 born into an environment which is incompatible with 
 welfare whether in the physical or the spiritual order. 
 They will be poor, miserable, sick, maimed, and vicious. 
 Both the children themselves and society at large will 
 be the unfortunate sufferers. 
 
 Our answer, which will be brief, will be given under 
 distinct headings as follows : — 
 
 (i) The State has no more right to prevent marriages 
 amongst the poor than to put the poor out of life alto- 
 gether. Individual existence and the institution of the 
 family precede the State, and, therefore, though the State 
 may issue regulations with regard to marriage, it has 
 no right to prohibit marriage totally to any man or class 
 of men. 
 
 (2) To interfere with marriage, to prevent it, because 
 of the poverty or misery of the parties, is to interfere 
 with, and stop up the fount of life, to endanger the con- 
 tinuance of the race at its very source. It will be said — 
 but do not the natural impediments themselves place 
 conditions on freedom in regard to marriage, and do 
 not, therefore, they also interfere with life at its fountain 
 source ? We answer — the fountain source of life, like 
 any other fountain source, has need to be interfered 
 with in the sense of cared for and guarded, so that it 
 may remain pure and undefiled, that is, so that it may 
 remain a fitting means for the promotion of its natural 
 end, which is the continuance of the race. And the 
 natural laws of marriage, as also the natural impedi- 
 ments, are all laws designed to promote that end. But 
 
484 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the kind of interference advocated by Mill is interference 
 for an opposite purpose, interference, viz. for the purpose 
 of preventing increase, preventing the end of marriage, 
 and its criminal character is not in the least modified 
 by the fact that the births that it is designed to prevent 
 are births that occur in unfortunate circumstances. 
 Interference which runs counter to the end of marriage 
 can never be justified. The attempt, therefore, to 
 prevent what are spoken of as " luckless marriages " is 
 most unnatural and opposed to the very idea of marriage, 
 and to the welfare of the race. 
 
 (3) The statement of the old philosophers that 
 existence is better than non-existence is not to be re- 
 garded as a mere empty metaphysical assertion ; it is 
 the statement of a highly important practical truth 
 and is attested to both by reason and experience. To 
 every man whether poor and miserable, or rich and con- 
 tented, existence is a very great good ; in proof of which 
 we may mention the fact that every man and animal 
 will fight against annihilation, and struggle by natural 
 instinct to remain in existence, even in spite of the 
 misery and pain which existence often involves. And 
 just as present life and existence are better than subse- 
 quent non-existence, so they are also better than previous 
 non-existence and better than non-existence absolutely. 
 To say, therefore, that an injury is done to a child be- 
 cause he is brought into the world in miserable sur- 
 roundings or with little prospect of health or happiness, 
 is in one sense true and in another sense absurdly false. 
 It is certainly better to bring children into existence 
 under favourable auspices than under unfavourable, 
 but, on the other hand, the good which is to be contem- 
 plated in marriage is the good of the child, and to the 
 child, however onlookers may pity his sad fate, existence 
 is certainly better than non-existence. This argument 
 will be found to be fully confirmed by the consideration 
 now to follow. 
 
 (4) In all existent things there is much perfection 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 485 
 
 and much welfare rendering existence desirable ; the 
 imperfections and the wants are much fewer than the 
 perfections and the attainments. Much, therefore, as 
 we sympathise with the wants of the poor, we cannot 
 but feel that the picture sometimes drawn of their misery 
 is to a large extent imaginary and untrue. Even the 
 poorest people not only have their moments of content- 
 ment and amusement, but their habitual condition is 
 often one of very happy contrast to that of many of the 
 self-indulgent rich whom nothing can content. The 
 poor, and even the so-called miserable, are often happy, 
 not only in their existence but in their surroundings, 
 and though it is the duty of the rich to relieve them of 
 their burdens, nevertheless the life of the poor and 
 miserable is not to be considered as all a burden. 
 Miserable as it is, it is welcome to them, and to have 
 deprived them of it would have been to do them a 
 great evil. 
 
 (5) What ground is there for believing in any par- 
 ticular case that the children of poor people will not 
 one day become rich, or at all events, that they may not 
 one day turn out to be comfortable and respectable 
 citizens ? And what right has the State to deny to 
 such children their chance in life — for that is, in effect, 
 what State interference in the circumstances comes to ? 
 If the State regards it as a duty to prevent marriages 
 that may, or even probably will, result in criminal or 
 destitute children, then it should' also deem it a 
 duty to prevent the marriages of the idle or profligate 
 rich whose children will almost certainly be idle and 
 profligate and a trial to the community. And if it is 
 right to give the latter his chance in life, it is right to 
 give the former his chance also. Speaking on the 
 latent energies of the poor, and the possibility of 
 an apparently luckless marriage being turned by the 
 parties, or by nature, to good account, Bernard 
 Bosanquet writes as follows : * " This is a case in 
 
 * " Philosophical Theory of the State," p. 68. 
 
486 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 which authoritative interference (except on account 
 of very definite physical and mental defects) must 
 inevitably defeat its object. No foresight of others 
 can gauge the latent powers to meet and deal with a 
 future indefinite responsibility ; and the result of 
 scrupulous timidity in view of such responsibilities is 
 seen in the tendency to depopulation which affects that 
 ver-y country from which Mill probably drew his argu- 
 ment.* To leave the responsibility as fully as possible 
 where it has been assumed is the best that law can do, 
 and appeals to a spring of energy deeper than com- 
 pulsion can reach." 
 
 (6) The prevention of marriages in cases in which 
 the means of subsistence seem to be wanting will not 
 secure the end desired. If marriage is prevented illicit 
 unions will be formed, and the children bom of them 
 will be, of all children, the poorest, inheriting all the 
 misery, and none of the protection, the care, and the 
 love, to which legitimate children, however poor, have 
 a legal right, and which will in most cases be faithfully 
 accorded to them. 
 
 The rights of the State in regard to education. 
 
 As we saw, the end of the State is to provide for the 
 higher or more developed " goo"3 " in so far as its attain- 
 ment exceeds the capacity of individuals and the family. 
 Let us see in the light of this principle what is the position 
 of the State in regard to education. For the sake of 
 simplicity we shall here confine our discussion to the 
 case of primary education, or the education of children. 
 
 Education is essentially a part of the process of 
 rearing. By rearing is meant the training of the child, 
 both in body and mind, and education is that part of 
 rearing which relates to mind. And, since the rearing 
 
 * Alas I in this year 19 15, quomodo ploravit Rachel filios suos — ' 
 her unborn children, the bravest of the brave, cheated even of life 
 and existence I In her day of trial how much France must have 
 desired their service and their devotion 1 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 487 
 
 of the child is primarily and essentially a duty and a 
 right of parents, so the education of the chiTd is primarily 
 and essentially their right. The parent may hand over 
 the child to be nursed by another, or taught by another, 
 whether a private teacher or the State, but the final 
 responsibility to nature and to the Author of nature 
 falls on the parent. The employed teacher is in nature's 
 eyes only the deputy of the parent. 
 
 Now whereas, generally speaking, parents can by 
 
 their own united efforts provide for the bodily welfare 
 
 of their children and in some measure can provide also 
 
 for their mental welfare or their education, to a great 
 
 extent and normally this latter side of the process of 
 
 rearing is something that exceeds the means, the 
 
 capacities, and the opportunities of parents ; and it 
 
 is for parents exclusively to determine how their own 
 
 efforts in these circumstances are to be supplemented 
 
 by the aid of others. If by means of combination 
 
 amongst many families it is possible to maintain a private 
 
 school, conducted according to a programme either 
 
 drawn up or at least approved by themselves, then it 
 
 is their right to maintain such a school and without 
 
 interference from the State. In two cases only would 
 
 interference be possible, viz. where it is evident that the 
 
 child is not really being educated, for then an injustice 
 
 is being done to the child, and the State could interfere 
 
 on its behalf just as it can interfere if a child is not being 
 
 properly fed. But such interference is, in general, 
 
 invidious, and so far as education is concerned could 
 
 be justified only on very rare occasions. The other case 
 
 arises in connection with the requirements of the common 
 
 good. The good of the State might require a certain 
 
 standard of education, higher than that normally given, 
 
 and the State could legitimately insist upon this standard 
 
 being attained by aU. 
 
 As a rule, however, parents cannot afford to main- 
 tain and equip schools like those just mentioned. The 
 maintenance of an efficient school is costly and trouble- 
 
488 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 some, and, therefore, parents have a right to call upon 
 the State to provide the opportunities for education 
 which they themselves cannot afford to give, and the 
 State is under an obligation to provide these oppor- 
 tunities, i.e. to build and equip schools, to pay the 
 teachers, to maintain the schools, in so far at least as 
 these things are beyond the means and the capacities 
 of parents. But even where education is fully provided 
 by the State, it has to be remembered that the first 
 right and the final responsibility are the parents', and 
 that in providing the means of education the State is 
 only fulfilling its natural function of supplementing the 
 efforts of parents in regard to the requirements of the 
 developed life. The State, therefore, is not justified 
 in wresting the child from the parent or ignoring the 
 parent in the domain of education. It is not justified 
 in forcing on the children a system of education which 
 is unacceptable to parents, or a system to which they 
 conscientiously object. In certain matters, of course, the 
 State is free not to consult the parents, those matters, 
 namely, in which the parents are not supposed to be 
 capable of judging aright, as for instance, whether 
 mathematics should be taught in the school, and to 
 what extent, and according to what methods ; but there 
 are certain matters of which parents are quite competent 
 judges, or at all events, of which the State and the 
 public authorities are not the appointed judges, for 
 instance, religion, and in these connections the ad- 
 vantageous position which the State occupies through 
 being necessary to the parent, gives it no right to force 
 a system of education or a set of principles on the 
 children, of which their parents disapprove. What, 
 therefore, is the duty of the State in the circumstances 
 in question ? The State may, of course, provide its 
 own schools, conducted according to its own methods 
 for all those who are willing to make use of them ; but 
 it should provide also schools approved of by parents, 
 and equip and maintain them at the expense of the 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 489 
 
 State, provided, of course, that the requisite number of 
 families is present to constitute a school. In that case, 
 as in every case in which public money is devoted to 
 any work, the State enjoys a full right of inspection and 
 examination so that the public may have some guarantee 
 that its money is being properly applied. But the fact, 
 we repeat, that the State does provide public money for 
 education, and that consequently it is in the advantageous 
 position of being necessary to parents, no more gives it a 
 right to take the children out of their parents' hands and 
 educate them according to its own ideas exclusively, 
 than its necessity in the interests of public order bestows 
 on the State a right of forcing a particular kind of dress 
 or food or habitation on all those who are in the unhappy 
 position of having to appeal to it for aid against thieves 
 and robbers. Where reasonable aid is asked of the 
 State, aid should be given ; but in seeking for such aid 
 men are not to be regarded as forfeiting or surrendering 
 in any way the rights and liberties which nature bestows 
 on them as human persons, or as parents entrusted with 
 the duty of caring for their children. Nobody would, 
 of course, expect the State to provide schools for every 
 handful of children whose parents entertain conscientious 
 objections to the system that is actually provided by 
 the State. But wherever a multiplicity of schools has 
 ■ to be provided, the State is bound to make special pro- 
 vision for any large and important body of parents 
 making common appeal to the State, and resting their 
 appeal on the same group of conscientious principles or 
 difficulties. 
 
 Nor should the State complain about the multiplicity 
 of systems that may thus be generated. For, in the 
 first place, the groups requiring and deserving (from the 
 point of view of numbers) special treatment are never 
 many. And in the second place it is a good thing that 
 the whole educational system of a country should not 
 be cast in a single mould. The single-mould System 
 advocated by State monopolists in the domain of educa- 
 
490 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 tion is bound to hamper and repress initiative and 
 originality, and even that spirit of freedom which every 
 modern government either genuinely aims at, or pre- 
 tends to aim at, encouraging amongst its subjects. 
 Diversities of spirit are widely encouraged in modern 
 times in the domain of university education. There is 
 no reason in the world why similar encouragement, 
 always, of course, supposing that the State is given the 
 free exercise of its right of inspection and examination, 
 should not be extended to the elementary sphere as 
 well. Even such a strong advocate of governmental 
 interference in matters moral as John Stuart Mill was 
 fully alive to the advantages attaching to freedom of 
 development in the sphere of elementary education. 
 " All that has been said," he writes,* " of the importance 
 of individuality of character, and diversity in opinions 
 and modes of conduct involves, as of the same un- 
 speakable importance, diversity of education. A general 
 State education is a mere contrivance for moulding 
 people to be exactly like one another ; and as the mould 
 in which it casts them is that which pleases the pre- 
 dominant power in the government in the pro- 
 portion as it is ef&cient and successful, it establishes a 
 despotism over the mind leading by natural tendency 
 to one over the body. An education established by 
 the State should exist, if it exists at all, as one among 
 many competing experiments, carried on for the purpose 
 of example and stimulus to keep the others up to a 
 certain standard of excellence." We do not consider 
 that Mill has here succeeded in setting forth the entire 
 obligation of the State in regard to education. The 
 State should not merely set up a number of competing 
 schools with others, leaving these others to depend upon 
 themselves. The State should be prepared to extend 
 encouragement and pecuniary aid to all those schools 
 that need and deserve it. But the testimony of so 
 great an authority is valuable as showing the injury 
 
 • " On Liberty," p. 63. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 491 
 
 done to the interests of education itself ^y any attempt 
 to bring the whole education of the country under one 
 rigid system, or (we may add) by declining to support 
 in any way those schools in the case of which, whilst 
 fully acknowledging a right of inspection and examina- 
 tion on the part of the State, parents still insist on exer- 
 cising some discretion in matters that, to their mind, 
 appertain, not to the State, but to themselves and to the 
 appointed guardians of religion. 
 
 APPENDIX 
 The Social-Contract Theory 
 
 We have to distinguish two classes of social-contract 
 theories, first, the theories advocated by Hobbes, Rousseau, 
 Locke, Kant, and Spinoza, according to whom the authority 
 of rulers is grounded on contract exclusively ; secondly, the 
 theory of certain scholastic writers, notably Suarez and 
 Card. Bellarmine, who regard the State as grounded on 
 nature and the Author of nature, the State being a necessity 
 of nature, but who consider that political authority originally 
 vested in the people as a whole, and could only have been 
 conferred on rulers through a compact between the members 
 composing the community. The first form of the theory 
 we may speak of as the social-contract theory proper : the 
 second is only a very modified form of the theory. We shall 
 therefore, in the first instance, analyse the social-contract 
 theory proper as developed by Hobbes, its chief exponent, 
 adding a brief criticism ; then we shall say a few words on 
 the theory standing in the names of Suarez and Card. 
 BeUarmine. 
 
 In his well-known work, the "Leviathan " (1651), Hobbes 
 draws a picture of what he calls the " state of nature," i.e. 
 the condition in which man found himself before the rise 
 of the State, and he describes also the manner in which this 
 condition of nature gave place to the social condition of 
 man under the State. He describes first the psychical con- 
 dition of man in the " state of nature," then his moral con- 
 dition. The psychical characteristics of the community 
 were as follows : in the State of nature all men were equal, 
 not in the juridical sense of having equal rights, for at that 
 
492 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 period, according to Hobbes, there were no rights, but in 
 the sense of possessing equal capacities and powers. There 
 was no ruler then, and men took advantage of the absence 
 of a controlling power to use their equal powers to the best 
 advantage they could secure, even to the injuring of one 
 another. In fact, the condition of nature was a condition 
 of universal warfare — " such a war as is of every man against 
 every man." This condition of warfare did not, indeed, 
 entail continuous actual fighting. It consisted in actual 
 fighting at times, a permanent known disposition to fight, 
 and the absence of all assurances of peace. " For war 
 consisteth not in battle only or the art of fighting but in a 
 tract of time wherein the will to contend by battle is 
 sufficiently known, and, therefore, the notion of time is 
 to be considered in the nature of war as it is in the nature 
 of weather. For as the nature of foul weather lieth not in a 
 shower or two of rain but in an inclination thereto of many 
 days together, so the nature of war consisteth not in actual 
 fighting but in the known disposition thereto during all the 
 time there is no assurance to the contrary. . . . Whatsoever, 
 therefore, is consequent to a time of war where every man 
 is enemy to every man the same is consequent to the time 
 wherein men live without other security than that which 
 their own strength and their own invention shall furnish 
 them withal. In such condition there is no place for industry 
 because the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no 
 culture of the earth, no navigation nor use of the com- 
 modities that may be imported by sea, no commodious 
 building, no instruments of moving and removing such 
 things as require much force, no knowledge of the face of 
 the earth ; no account of time, no arts, no letteis, no society, 
 ana, which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of 
 violent death, and the :ife of man solitary, poor, nasty, 
 brutish, and short." 
 
 " It may peradventure be thought," Hobbes continues, 
 " that there was never such a time nor condition of war as 
 this, and I believe it was never generally so all over the 
 world,* but there are many places where they live so now." 
 
 * Hobbes, therefore, does not claim historical reality for this 
 " state of nature " as a condition of the whole human race. Neither 
 does Kant : the social compact and the preceding state of nature 
 are, he says, if they ever existed, only the starting-point in our ex- 
 planation of the juridical State, a method in other words of con- 
 ceiving the place of the State in society, its functions and its powers. 
 On the other hand historical reality is claimed for the state of nature 
 by Locke and Spinoza. According to Locke it was an exceedingly 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 493 
 
 Besides, " in all times kings and persons of sovereign authority, 
 because of their independency, are in coiftinual Jealousies 
 and in the state and posture of gladiators, having their 
 weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another." 
 
 Hobbes now proceeds to describe the moral condition of 
 man in the " state of nature." " To this war of every man 
 against every man this also is consequent that nothing can 
 be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and 
 injustice have there no place. Where there is no common 
 power there is no law ; where no law, no injustice. Force 
 and fraud are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice and 
 injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body nor 
 mind. . . . They are quahties that relate to men in society 
 not in solitude. It is consequent also to the same condition 
 that there be no property, no dominion, no ' mine ' and 
 ' thine ' distinct, but only that to be every man's that he 
 can get, and for so long as he can keep it. . . . Thus much 
 for the ill condition which man by mere nature is actually 
 placed in, though with a possibility to come out of it." 
 
 In the state of nature, Hobbes proceeds to show, men 
 are moved by a single all-powerful impulse, that, viz. of 
 self-preservation ; but from this impulse springs another 
 which quickly reacts on the very condition of nature in which 
 it rises, and leads on to another and opposed condition. 
 This derived impulse is the impulse to seek for peace as a 
 means to self-preservation. It is from this impulse that 
 the social-contract sprang — a contract devised to end the 
 condition of primitive warfare with all its attendant incon- 
 veniences. This contract was a covenant of every man 
 with every other to place all their liberties in the hands of 
 some one man or body of men to whom all should be subject 
 and who should direct the destinies of all. Its terms were : 
 " I authorise and give up my right of governing myself to 
 this man or this assembly of men on the condition that 
 thou give thy right to him and authorise all his actions in 
 like manner." Thus, in Hobbes' theory, the power of the 
 governing authorities is only the aggregate of the powers 
 
 shortlived condition, for it was a condition which men would be inclined 
 to escape from the moment they came into relation to one another 
 (" Treatises on Civil Government "). In Spinoza's view (" Tractatus 
 PoUticus," p 293) the Jews " gave up their natural rights to Jehovah 
 in terms of an express contract " (Exodus xxiv. 7). The theory 
 defended by Rousseau is that the state of nature is hypothetically an 
 historical reality, i.e. it is the condition in which man must have 
 existed unless some act of Divine intervention in the very beginning 
 of history prevented it. 
 
494 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 possessed by individuals, their power, namely, of governing 
 themselves. The ruler as bearing their powers carries in 
 himself the persons of all his subjects. In obeying him the 
 subject really obeys himself as existent in the ruler. This 
 social-compact, Hobbes remarks, being once effected, is 
 irrevocable. 
 
 The qualities of the sovereignty enjoyed by the ruler are 
 determined by the conditions of the social-contract. In 
 one place Hobbes maintains that sovereignty is an absolute 
 power in the sense that a ruler has' no obligations towards 
 his subjects, and consequently that rebelhon against the 
 sovereign could never be lawful. This doctrine of absolute- 
 ness, however, is modified elsewhere with, we consider, little 
 care for consistency. Though the sovereign, he tells us, has 
 absolute rights within the terms of the contract, yet these 
 terms themselves impose limitations on him that are of 
 immense importance in defining the juridical relations 
 obtaining between ruler and subject. First, a sovereign 
 may not interfere with his subjects beyond the terms of 
 the convention : he may interfere, therefore, only for their 
 preservation and defence ; secondly, his sovereignty lasts 
 only for as long as the end is attainable for which it was 
 conferred, i.e. as long as he is in a position to protect his 
 subjects. When that power ceases, aU obligations to him 
 have disappeared. 
 
 In treating of Hobbes' doctrine of sovereignty we have 
 gone beyond the subject of the present chapter ; but we 
 have done so in order that the reader may have a clear and 
 connected view of Hobbes' whole system,* and because we 
 
 • The other social-compact theories are simply variants of that of 
 Hobbes. In their main principles they are all derived from the 
 Leviathan ; but the points of difference are interesting. We shall 
 enumerate these differences under special headings as follows : 
 
 la.) The state of nature. Here Rousseau [" L'origine de I'inegalite 
 parmi less hommes " (1751) and " Du Coutrat Social " (1762)! dis- 
 tinguishes two periods ; first, a period of the equality of all with all, 
 not in Hobbes' sense that the sum of their powers mental and physical 
 was equal, but in the sense that everybody had all that he required 
 for his life. It was a condition, too, not of warfare but of Arcadian 
 peace. As yet language had not been developed for there was no 
 need of language. As yet the family did not exist except to the degree 
 in which it exists amongst the animals, i.e. the mother just suckled 
 her young. It was a period of ease and contentment for all. Later 
 on, inequalities arose and the war of all with all. The first great 
 inequality appeared with appropriation of land. Thence arose 
 division of labour and all the evils that afflict society. Locke also 
 (" Two Treatises on Civil Government," 1689) describes the equality 
 obtaining between primitive men, but in a much more natural way 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 495 
 
 may not have an opportunity later of discussing his particular 
 theory of sovereignty. * 
 
 Criticism. 
 
 (i) It is possible to view the theory of the " state of 
 nature " depicted by Hobbes in two ways : either as an 
 attempted historical survey of the actual state of things 
 that preceded the appearance of the State, or as an account 
 of the conditions that would prevail if there were no State 
 and no ruUng poUtical authority set over peoples to preserve 
 order and enforce the laws of justice amongst them. The 
 first would seem to be the purpose aimed at by Rousseau, 
 Locke, and Spinoza — ^the second by Hobbes and Kant. 
 Now it will not be necessary here to attempt to criticise the 
 theory of the state of nature regarded as a survey of the 
 actual early history of man, since that theory is now dis- 
 proved utterly by what is known of the origin of the State, 
 and it is not now regarded as worthy of consideration by 
 any school of writers. Before the State appeared, primitive 
 men were organised (as primitive societies are organised 
 even now) into societies held together by a force which was 
 far stronger than that of the unifying forces present in any 
 
 than either Hobbes or Rousseau. It was a period of juridical equaKty, 
 i.e. all men having the same faculties with the same ends, they were 
 equal in the sense that one was not subject to another. Juridical 
 inequalities arose out of the necessities of society. Kant (" Recht- 
 slehre," 1796) defends the equality of all in the sense that all have 
 equal initial rights to the whole world of possessions. 
 
 (b) The condition of morality in the state of nature. Under this 
 heading important difierences arise. Like Hobbes, Rousseau also 
 maintains that in the " state of nature " there existed neither law 
 nor rights nor distinctions of good and evil. Locke, on the other 
 hand, explams that the condition of juridical equality, obtaining 
 between individuals, itself gave rise to a law of justice which was in 
 effect that no man should use another as means to his own pleasure 
 for that would be to treat him not as an equal but as a subordinate. 
 There existed also a right of property since it is the clear intention of 
 the Author of nature that her possessions should be used for the best 
 convenience. The chief title to property was labour. Kant's theory 
 is exceedingly interesting. In the state of nature men had rights 
 as against one another, and it was to defend these rights that the 
 State was brought into existence. But in the state of nature rights 
 were " provisional " only, i.e. they were of no use to men before 
 the State came into existence (p. 158). The function of the State 
 when it did appear was not that of creating rights. The State was a 
 " juridical union constituted under the condition of distributive 
 justice " (p. 157), for the validating, defining, and defending of rights. 
 
 (c) The Social-Compact. Rousseau does not, like Hobbes, represent 
 the social-contract as necessary. On the contrary, it was, he says, a 
 
496 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 State, viz. the force of the blood-tie and of the authority 
 either of the pater-familias, or of the combined heads of the 
 tribe. In many cases the whole community would consist 
 of a single family composed of parents, grandparents, children, 
 grandchildren, and the collateral relations— aU governed by 
 a patriarch ; in another case three or four of these tribal 
 units would combine under the joint rule of their numerous 
 heads ; but at no period was humanity made up of isolated 
 individuals, living under no ruler, and aiming at no sort of 
 common good. The tribes that constituted the earliest 
 societies were organised under their respective heads not 
 only as families but also as incipient States. 
 
 This, as we said, is the clear lesson taught us by all recent 
 investigation into the origin of society, and, therefore, in so 
 far as the theory of the state of nature is followed at all, 
 the form which it now assumes is that of a theory of what 
 the community would be if there were no State, and a theory, 
 therefore, of the functions which, it is supposed, are proper 
 
 device whereby the rich, finding that their possessions were in jeopardy, 
 fooled the poor into agreeing to the formation of society for the pro- 
 tection of property in general. The compact when it was made was 
 two-fold ; first, the fundamental compact, whereby the people 
 formed themselves into a single community each agreeing to " throw 
 into the common stock his person and all his faculties, under the supreme 
 direction of the general will (volonti ginirale as opposed to the volontS 
 de tous or the sum of the individual wills) ; second, that whereby 
 the ruler is designated. A similar distinction of contracts is described 
 by Kant, and he points out that in neither can a man be properly 
 said to surrender his freedom, rather what he does is to surrender 
 his wild lawless freedom in order to find again his proper and regulated 
 freedom in a civil society He also points out that the obedience 
 given to the ruler is really given to one's self, as a part of the ruler, 
 the ruler representing and personating the whole of society. 
 
 (d) Sovereignty. In Rousseau's theory the general will is sovereign, 
 not the volonti de tous. Only in one way can one make sure of the 
 rule of the general will, i.e. by excluding the operation of parties from 
 politics. Then only will diflEerences really neutralise one another 
 and the common nund prevail. The general wiU may, of course, 
 appoint representatives. But it cannot really be represented. It 
 cannot give away its sovereignty. It should, therefore, legislate 
 directly and not through representatives. Sovereignty has one 
 function only, that, viz. of legislation. In Locke's theory also it is 
 the people who are represented as truly sovereign. The king if he 
 acts not in the interest of the people may be dethroned or rather 
 has already dethroned himself. In Kant's theory the people are 
 said to be the original sovereign. But they can delegate this 
 sovereignty. Once it is delegated, however, no course and no defect 
 of the sovereign can absolve a subject from obedience. RebelUon 
 under any circumstances is, therefore, a crime. But the execution 
 of a monarch is the greatest of all crimes — it is the unforgivable sin 
 of the theologians. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 497 
 
 to the State. Without the State it is maintained there 
 would be neither rights nor duties, nor justice, nor " mine " 
 and " thine," nor law of any kind, and, therefore, the con- 
 dition would be the war of every man with every other. 
 Now this theory of universal war and universal unmorality 
 is wholly imaginary and wholly false. In the period that 
 preceded the appearance of the State, individual was not at 
 war with individual, because, being members of one family, 
 their interests were largely the same. Each community 
 consisted, then, of one immense family. Wives or husbands 
 were, of course, taken from outside. In some cases the 
 wife came to live with the man's family ; in other cases the 
 man went to hve with the woman's family. But in every 
 case the community constituted a single family unit. Their 
 interests, therefore, were common, their land was common 
 in the sense that it was vested in the family or the head of 
 the famUy, and, as one eminent modern sociologist tells us, 
 they defended one another in case of aggression from without 
 with a fierceness and determination that are unknown to- 
 day. Within the family community, if disputes arose, they 
 were decided by the head, i.e. the patriarch. The patriarchal 
 theory * of ancient society or something akin to it is now 
 universally accepted. As Sidgwick explains, it " emerges 
 spontaneously " from what we know of the family basis of 
 society in the past. The theory of the war of all with all 
 is, therefore, far less applicable to the early period here in 
 question than to the condition of society to-day. 
 
 Again, it is absurd to say that before the State appeared 
 there were neither rights, nor laws, nor " mine " and " thine." 
 In that period men were ruled by the natural law just as 
 they are now. There are innumerable laws and rights that 
 have no dependence on the State, e.g. the law of fidelity 
 between husband and wife, the right of the parent \o the 
 respect of the child and of the child to the support of its 
 parents. Before the State arose there was also a " meum 
 ac tuum." A man had a right, at least, to the things pro- 
 duced by his labour. In the primeval period, therefore, it 
 is untrue to say that rights did not exist. Indeed, as Kant 
 remarks, unless in that period there existed rights of justice 
 the State would not have been deemed necessary for enforcing 
 these rights, and it was the enforcing of these already 
 
 * The word is not used here in its strict sense as opposed to the 
 matriarchate. We merely mean the theory that the bond that held 
 societies together in their earliest stages was that of the blood-tie, 
 and that the earliest societies were ruled by the family heads. 
 
 VOL. II — 32 
 
498 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 existent rights that, according to many defenders of the 
 social-contract theory, was the primary and essential pur- 
 pose of the State in its first beginnings. Neither is it right 
 to say that before the State arose there was nothing to secure 
 the enforcement of men's natural rights. The reason and 
 conscience of man must always have been operative, and 
 where these were not sufficient there was available the strong 
 rule of the pater-famiUas, which, as against the individual 
 delinquent, could count in every case on the loyal support 
 of the whole tribal community. 
 
 (2) Then as to the idea of the social-contract. We have 
 already pointed out that States may have arisen in particular 
 cases in ancient times as a result of contract, just as con- 
 tract gave rise to the Orange Free State in recent times. 
 But we have to remember that a contract-made State would 
 be exceedingly difficult in the primeval period, first, because 
 in that period men had no experience of the State and no 
 idea of what it was like, whereas now there are States of 
 every model to be copied ; and secondly, because in the 
 primeval period it would have been difficult to superimpose 
 on the family organisation another organisation independent 
 of the first and ruled by a different head. To primeval man 
 the superseding of the great tribal organisation based on 
 the permanent link of the blood-tie, by another organisation 
 based on a mere temporary will-act of the citizens, would 
 seem a wholly superfluous and absurd procedure. 
 
 The founding of a State by contract would, therefore, be 
 exceedingly difficult in ancient times. On the other hand, 
 the expansion of the family into the State was a normal, 
 a necessary, and a natural procedure. The family had to 
 expand into the tribe and the tribe, granted that it progressed 
 at all, had to expand into the condition of a State. It is for 
 this reason that Aristotle speaks of the family origin of the 
 State as " most in accordance with nature" and, therefore, 
 as the normal manner in which the early States must have 
 appeared. Where, therefore, the authors of the social- 
 contract theory err is in representing as normal and universal 
 a procedure which, if it ever existed, could never be more 
 than accidental and exceptional. 
 
 But they are guilty of a further and more important 
 misrepresentation still. As we have aheady pointed out, 
 the authors of the theory of a primeval " state of nature " 
 in which neither law nor rights obtained, for the most part 
 do not regard this condition as an historical reality. Neither 
 do they conMder the social-compact as an historical reality. 
 Their sole purpose in developing this second part of the 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 499 
 
 theory is to show that the authority of the,State is based 
 upon the consent of the citizens. Now in the next chapter 
 it will be shown that the authority of the State, even where 
 the State is founded, as in exceptional cases it has been 
 founded, by compact on the part of the citizens, is never 
 hasei or grounded upon such contract, but on nature, i.e. 
 the natural necessities which it is the essential purpose of 
 the State to supply. The State may in particular instances 
 take its rise, as marriage and the family take their rise, in 
 contract, but the authority of the State, just like the authority 
 of the family, is grounded on nature, on the natural position 
 of the ruler in one case and the parents in the other ; and, 
 therefore, the theory of the social-contract is wrong, not 
 only as an historical account of how the State must necessarily 
 have arisen in the beginning, but also as a theory of the 
 ground of political authority. We shall see in the next 
 chapter that the social-contract theory is based entirely on 
 a confusion of two distinct conceptions — the conceptions, 
 viz. of the ground of authority and the titles of authority. 
 Social-contract is in some cases a title of pohtical authority ; 
 it is never the ground of pohtical authority ; still less can it 
 be represented as the essential and exclusive ground of 
 authority in every State. 
 
 (3) Finally we may be permitted to remark that to speak 
 of primeval man, in whatever condition he found himself, as 
 j)ar excellence the " state of nature," is incongruous and 
 unscientific. The natural horse, par excellence, is the horse 
 that is fully up to nature's standard, with all its capacities 
 developed and its nature fulfilled. So " natural man," -par 
 excellendpi'is man at the high level marked out for him by 
 his natural capacities, man at his best and greatest. " What 
 each thing is," says Aristotle (Pol. I. 2, 8,), "when fully 
 developed, we call its nature." 
 
 Suarez and Card. Bellarmine. 
 
 A brief word now on the theory of social-contract advocated 
 bv Card. Bellarmire (1542-1621) and Francis Suarez (1548- 
 1617).* In their view the State is grounded not on contract 
 but on nature and the Author of nature, because the State 
 is a necessity of nature, i.e. it is necessary for human welfare 
 and development. But granted that the State is a necessity 
 
 * Bellarmine's defence of this theory is to be found in " De Laicis ' 
 bk. III. ch. VI. ; that of Suarez in " Defensio Fidei Cathohcae " 
 bk. III. ch. II. sec. 5, and " De Legibus," lib. 3. 
 
500 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of nature and grounded on nature the question arises, how 
 does the State come into existence as a concrete reality 
 under a definite form of government, and how does political 
 authority come to be placed in a single person or group of 
 persons within the community ? We shall give the ex- 
 planation offered by Suarez. We must, he tells us, first 
 consider human society or the State as such, abstracting 
 from any particular form of government and taking account 
 of the " corpus communitatis " only. Since society is by 
 an ordinance of, and in the requirements of nature, a State, 
 political authority from the beginning, by natural law, vests 
 in society, i.e. in the whole community.* It is a natural 
 property of the community, and, therefore, comes into being 
 as soon as the community becomes a social body and before 
 any individual or group is' set to rule over such community. 
 But though nature confers political authority on the com- 
 munity it does not prescribe that the community as a whole 
 should retain this authority or exercise it immediately ; 
 on the contrary, the community has the right to place this 
 authority in the hands of a determinate person or body of 
 persons to be exercised by them ; and when, by means of a 
 compact or agreement on the part of the people, that is 
 done, the community then becomes subject to such person 
 or persons and becomes itself dispossessed of the authority 
 given it by nature. But in every case pohtical authority 
 vests in the first instance in the community or the people 
 as such, and by them it is conferred on such individuals or 
 groups of individuals as they may appoint to occupy the 
 position of sovereign ruler. 
 
 This is the well-known social-contract theory of Suarez 
 and Card. Bellarmine. It is a social-contract theory only 
 in a very modified sense of that term. It differs in many 
 ■essential points from the social-contract theory of Hobbes 
 and Rousseau. For instance, Suarez and Bellarmine lend 
 no counten mce to the doctrine that before the State arose 
 mai kind was without a moral system or laws of any kind ; 
 that morals and, in particular, justice, are wholly dependent 
 on State authority. Also the authority of the State is not 
 
 * It is the Author of nature that confers this power on men — 
 ■ hommibus in civitatem seu perfectam communitatem politicam 
 congregatis, non quidem ex peculiari et quasi positiva institutione 
 vel donatione omnino distincta a productione talis naturae, sed per 
 naturalem consecutionem ex vi primae creationis ejus ; ideoque ex 
 vi talis donationis non est haec potestas in una persona neque in 
 peculiari congregatione multarum, sed in toto periecto populo seu 
 corpore communitatis.' 
 
THE STATE-ITS NATURE 501 
 
 regarded by Suarez as resting on social-con^^ract only, but 
 on nature, and the Author of nature, since authority is a 
 natural attribute of the State. In one point only is this 
 doctrine of Suarez found to fall within the category of the 
 social-contract theories, viz. in the contention that the 
 people are the ultimate human repository of poHtical power, 
 and that poHtical authority could come to be vested in 
 kings and princes and other rulers in one way only, viz. as 
 a result of free compact on the part of the people. 
 
 Criiicism. 
 
 Our criticism of this theory can only be of the briefest 
 kind. 
 
 (a) In the first place : the theory of Suarez rests on a 
 purely groundless supposition. PoHtical authority, he tells 
 us, is a natural attribute of society, i.e. of society taken as 
 a whole, of the corpus communitaiis, and, therefore, it must 
 belong in the first instance to the people as a whole. Now 
 in one sense only is it right to say that poHtical authority 
 is an attribute of society taken as a whole, viz. that political 
 authority lies somewhere in society, just as domestic authority 
 Hes somewhere in the family. But domestic authority 
 though present in the family, is a natural attribute, not of 
 the family as such, but of the parents' position in the family, 
 and, so, domestic authority vests in the parent alone. So 
 also political authority is properly an attribute, not of 
 society as such, but of the position of ruler within the social 
 body, and, therefore, political authority vests in the ruler 
 only. Whatever person or body occupies this position of 
 ruler, in that person or body is vested, and exclusively vested, 
 the fullness of political authority. Should the people be 
 governed by themselves directly, as in the case of a direct 
 democracy, political authority vests in the people as ruler ; 
 should they be governed by king or council, in such king or 
 council is centred the fullness of political power. But in 
 whatever hands this power is placed it rests there by right 
 of nature and on the authority of the Author of nature, 
 because it is a natural attribute of the position of ruler. 
 
 The question is sometimes asked : in whose hands did 
 poHtical authority rest before it was conferred on prince or 
 council ? What is conferred upon another must, it is asserted, 
 exist before it is conferred, and, it is added, if political 
 authority existed before it was conferred upon the earliest 
 governments there was no other body in which it could 
 reside except the people. The people were, therefore, the 
 
502 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 first repository of political power and by thfem it was con- 
 ferred upon the earliest rulers. 
 
 Our criticism of this argument is that it is based on a 
 wholly mistaken view of the nature of political authority. 
 Political authority is not of the nature of money or furniture 
 or food that must first exist before it is received by its owner. 
 Political authority, as we said, is of the nature of an attribute 
 attaching to the position of the ruler, and, therefore, it is 
 not necessary to suppose that the occupant of that position 
 receives his authority from some other person ; it springs 
 naturally from that position just as the attributes of a body 
 spring from the inner nature of the body and are not conferred 
 on it by anything external to itself. And, in this, poUtical 
 authority follows the same law and principle as the authority 
 of a father over his child or of a master over his servant. 
 The authority of a father over his child is not conferred upon 
 him by some other person. Neither did it exist in another be- 
 fore he received it in the first instance. A father's authority 
 can only exist in himself, and it springs, not from some 
 external source, but from his position as father, of which it 
 is a natural and inseparable attribute. So also the authority 
 of governments is not to be regarded as, in the first instance, 
 resting in somebody, and then as conferred by them upon 
 the government. It is an attribute of the position of ruler 
 and springs naturally from that position. In one sense 
 only should we speak of the authority of the ruler as residing 
 necessarily in some other person before the ruler receives it. 
 Being a natural attribute of the position of ruler all political 
 authority must be regarded as residing ultimately in the 
 Author of nature and as conferred by Him in every case 
 upon all those who have a legitimate right to its possession 
 and exercise. 
 
 (h) The people in a particular case, as we have seen, 
 might act as their own immediate rulers, in which case the 
 State is spoken of as a direct democracy. And being once 
 possessed of the fullness of political authority, the people 
 could, by means of a compact with one another, abdicate 
 this authority and agree to be ruled by some determinate 
 person or body who would henceforth be sovereign over 
 all. Thus it is plain that the social-compact is one method 
 by which political authority comes to vest in particular 
 persons and bodies ; but even when governments are set 
 up in this fashion their authority is still derived from the 
 posit'on of ruler, a position in which they have been set by 
 the whole body politic, and to which (position) the ruling 
 authority essentially and inseparably belongs. 
 
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 503 
 
 But there are other ways in which a ruler iq^y legitimately 
 come to occupy the position of sovereign, other iilles of 
 poUtical authority, besides agreement on the part of, and 
 appointment by, the people. Popular appointment or 
 election is not the only title of authority. What these 
 various titles are, and what the principle by which these 
 titles are determined and enumerated will be considered in 
 a later chapter.* But we may be allowed to refer again to 
 one title which has already been discussed, and the further 
 consideration of which will show how much at variance with 
 historical fact is the theory of the social-compact developed 
 by Suarez. We saw that the State in its earliest beginnings 
 -was a development out of the family, that the first kings were 
 patriarchs or fathers of tribal families, the first councils the 
 elders of the tribes. The family village-community, as we 
 saw, glided imperceptibly into the position of a State ; the 
 head of the village-community became imperceptibly, as 
 the community expanded and took on wider and wider 
 functions, the head of the State. Henceforth his authority 
 was more than domestic ; it became political as well. And 
 in this way and not through compact, political authority 
 came first to be vested in the supreme ruler in the case of 
 most States. 
 
 Such is the testimony of history and of all recent socio- 
 logical enquiry into the origin of political rule amongst 
 primitive peoples. Here is no trace of anything in the 
 nature of social-compact. The first political rulers derived 
 their authority at a time when such a compact would have 
 been almost unthinkable, a period when any attempt to 
 superimpose upon the family or tribal organisation based 
 upon the tie of blood another organisation based upon a 
 wholly different principle, viz. popular election to power, 
 would have been exceedingly difficult, if not wholly impossible. 
 And yet in those days the rulers of States wielded the sceptre 
 on titles as legitimate and with an authority quite as effective 
 and convincing as any ruler of the present day. It is clear 
 then that political authority may arise according to other 
 methods than that of social compact, and that direct ap- 
 pointment by the corpus communitatis is neither the oldest 
 nor the only title of pohtical rule. 
 
 •p- 519. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE STATE— ITS PARTS 
 
 Of natural organisms we distinguish four elements — 
 two extrinsic, two intrinsic. The extrinsic elements are 
 the efficient cause and the end of the organism. The 
 intrinsic elements, also spoken of as " parts," are its 
 matter and form. In the State it is convenient to 
 distinguish the same four elements. Two of these we 
 have already examined, its cause or source, and its end. 
 We must now treat of the two remaining elements, its 
 intrinsic elements or its parts, viz. its matter and its 
 form — i.e. the material elements that compose it, and 
 the formal principle by which these material elements 
 are made to constitute, not any kind of society, but the 
 particular society which we speak of as the State. 
 
 The material elements are two-fold — first, the people, 
 organised into families and communities larger than 
 families ; and, secondly, the territory which they occupy. 
 The form, or formal principle by which the people are 
 welded into a State, is manifestly the ruler or governing 
 authority, for it is by being subordinated to one supreme 
 governing authority that the people come to constitute 
 one political society or a State. We shall in the present 
 chapter consider these three constitutive elements in 
 their relation to the State, viz. the people, the land, the 
 ruler or governing authority. 
 
 The People 
 
 The immediate component parts of any natural living 
 organism are not the ultimate atoms of which it is com- 
 posed but the cells consisting of many atoms. The 
 
 504 
 
THE STATE—ITS PARTS 505 
 
 reason is because the cells are themselves.small natural 
 organisms with activities, laws, and properties aU their 
 own. Atoms are formed by nature into cells, cells into 
 the larger organisms. So, also, the State is composed 
 immediately not of individuals but of families ; for the 
 family is itself a natural unit intermediate between the 
 individual and the State, and provided \^^ith laws and 
 functions of its own. It is even more distinctive and 
 independent than the cell within the body ; for, unlike 
 the cell, the family both preceded the whole of which it 
 is a part and could still survive, and in some measure 
 attain its end, even if the State should cease to exist. 
 Individual men and women, therefore, are the immediate 
 elements composing the natural unit of the family ; 
 families are the immediate component elements of the 
 State. 
 
 But, just as the human body, though composed of 
 cells, is' yet specifically a different organism from that 
 of the cell, so also the State is not to be regarded as a 
 colossal family, but as a distinct organism in every way. 
 It is important that the former view of the relation of 
 the State to the family, a view which was advocated by 
 Socrates in the early, and by Sir Robert Filmer * in 
 the modern period, should be dispelled. If the State is 
 only a colossal family, if it is not distinct in quality 
 from the family, then only one form of State is possible, 
 viz. the patriarchal State ; and the limitations which 
 such a form of State must necessarily impose upon the 
 community, and the hindrances it would oppose to 
 development, suffice of themselves to disprove any theory 
 identifying the two institutions. Though the State is 
 composed of families, though it is a development out 
 of the family, it is, nevertheless, distinct from the family 
 in all those elements through which distinctions in 
 natural institutions arise. They differ in ground, in 
 end, in form, and in the links which bind the members 
 together. The family is grounded on necessities con- 
 
 * Patrjarcha. 
 
506 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 nected with the rearing of the child, and its end is to 
 provide for the daily wants of parents and children. 
 The State is grounded on the necessity of the State for 
 . social progress and the common welfare ; and its end is 
 to provide for the race the things that are necessary for 
 the more developed life in so far as they cannot be pro- 
 vided by the family. The form of the family is essentially 
 monarchical ; in no case could the children dictate to 
 their parents, or take the place of their parents ; the 
 State, on the other hand, may take any form, and in a 
 democratic State the same citizen is both ruler and 
 subject, makes laws through his representatives or, in a 
 direct democracy, by his own vote, and is at the same 
 time bound by and subject to these laws. The members 
 composing the family are bound together primarily by 
 love and reverence through identity of blood ; the 
 members composing the State are bound primarily rather 
 by laws of justice, and, though originally a development 
 out of the family, it can originate in other ways also, 
 so that identity of blood, as a binding link between the 
 members even in a remote degree, is not a necessity 
 of its existence. The State, therefore, is a distinct 
 natural organism from the family. 
 
 The juridical relations between the two we have 
 already determined when treating of the end of the 
 State. The family is a part of the State, and as the part 
 is subject to the whole so the family is subject to the 
 State and should have a care for its welfare and the 
 welfare of the whole community. For two reasons, 
 however, the family is not to be regarded as completely 
 subordinate. First, hot only families but individuals 
 also, though political or social by nature, are not " wholly 
 political," to use Aristotle's expression, for ha:ving 
 faculties which extend beyond the State, the end of the 
 individual man lies outside the State. He is not, there- 
 fore, to be regarded as a mere means to the good of the 
 whole and is consequently not in everything subordinate. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 507 
 
 The State, e.g. could not put an innocent man out of 
 life simply because by living he might endanger the 
 health of the community. Secondly, the family is a 
 natural unit just like the State, it preceded the State, 
 and could survive apart from the State. It has its o\vn 
 natural end and functions distinct from those of the 
 State. In the attainment of its end, therefore, which 
 principally lies in the rearing of the children, the family 
 is independent of the State ; only in the rarest circum- 
 stances, such as utter failure on the part of parents to 
 provide for their children, would it be in the competence 
 of the State either to take the rearing of the child into 
 its own hands, or even to interfere with the parents' 
 rights. The State must only help the parents, it cannot 
 supersede them. 
 
 eF OTHER NATURAL COMMUNITIES WITHIN THE STATE, 
 OR OF NATIONALITIES 
 
 The State did not develop immediately out of the 
 family. It proceeded from the family through the 
 viUage-community. As the family grew, it developed 
 into something more than a mere family— into a com- 
 munity. That community consisted of persons of differ- 
 ent generations related to each other by blood. For 
 healthful continuance, however, intermarriage was neces- 
 sary with members of other groups , and these members 
 would naturally leave their own groups to live \vith that 
 to which they had become allied.* The whole group 
 would be characterised by community of blood, a.nd as 
 a rule by a common name. As growth continued, 
 however," and particularly as intermarriage increased, 
 or perhaps as fusion occurred with other groups, blood- 
 relationships would gradually become so distant as to 
 be almost negligible, so that that which in the beginning 
 constituted the vital bond of connection would at length 
 
 * See p. 451. In some cases the woman passed to the community 
 to which her husband belonged. In other cases it was the husband 
 who left his community. 
 
5o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 be superseded in importance by other characteristics 
 of the expanding community. Intermarriage would 
 solidify the different tribal units into a single homo- 
 geneous group ; certain marked physiological and psycho- 
 logical characteristics would appear ; identity of speech, 
 of religion, of economic needs, would tend to produce a 
 common life and spirit with identity of hopes, of interests, 
 of professions, of antipathies ; their common history 
 would beget a common tradition, and also common 
 sympathies arising out of the same triumphs and suffer- 
 ings in the past. These distinguishing characteristics 
 would vary in relation to one another in different cases. 
 In some, one characteristic would be more prominent ; 
 in others, another. Also the degree of their effective- 
 ness would vary. In some cases the effect would be 
 to set up merely a " sense of association," with, however, 
 no tendency to complete self-dependence. Such a com- 
 munity we speak of as a -people. But where the Com- 
 munity is of such dimensions, and the degree of cohesive- 
 ness so great as to create a permanent tendency to com- 
 plete self-dependence (a tendency usually symbolised in 
 some way, e.g. by a flag) from all other communities, 
 the community is then spoken of as a nationality. A 
 nationality in its fullest sense may therefore be defined 
 as any large community descended from a common stock 
 and possessing such a large number of common 
 characteristics and interests as makes it racially one 
 and distinct and sets up in it, or at least in such portions 
 of it as occupy a distinct territory, a permanent tendency 
 to political unification under a distinct ruler. A 
 nationality may exist as one amongst many within the 
 State : but it is characteristic of it that, if for any reason 
 the State were to be disintegrated, the nationality would 
 tend automatically to hold together, to develop as a 
 distinct political unit, and finally to emerge as a com- 
 plete State. This is the full conception of nationality. 
 In a less complete sense of the word, a nationality may 
 consist of individuals not descended from a common 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 509 
 
 stock. But in this case there must be pther causes 
 producing the same effects that we have described above. 
 For instance there must be fusion and intermarriage over 
 a long period producing certain distinct physiological 
 characteristics and a distinct mentality, identity of en- 
 vironment, a common history and perhaps a common 
 language and religion giving rise to identity of interest 
 and feeling with the permanent tendency already indi- 
 cated towards a distinct political life. But in the political 
 understanding of peoples generally the most potent 
 element going to constitute a nationality is accepted to 
 be identity of blood and the recognition of a common 
 descent. 
 
 Relation of nationality to State, and the rights of the 
 former. 
 
 The State and the family differ in their end. The 
 end of the family is to rear children and provide for 
 their daily wants — the end of the State is to provide 
 for the higher or more developed requirements of the 
 whole community. Under no conditions can these two 
 natural institutions be superseded either by different 
 institutions or by each other. They are both absolute 
 necessities of the human race. But the village-com- 
 munity into which the family develops, and the 
 nationality, which normally is a later resultant of a 
 particular grouping of such communities, are nothing 
 more than halting-places on the way to the State, a 
 mid-point in the expansion of the family, providing 
 partially the things which it is the function of the State 
 to supply fully when it appears. The end of the 
 nationality, therefore, is not different from the end of 
 the State, and its main function ceases when the State 
 comes into being. Nationalities are not permanently 
 necessary in the economy of nature as the family and 
 the State are. 
 
 Two consequences follow. First, even though the 
 nationality stands mid-way between the family and the 
 
510 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 State, the State is immediately ' composed not of 
 nationalities but of families — the family being a 
 permanent and necessary natural unit, the other being 
 transient. Secondly, unlike the family, nationalities 
 are in everything subordinate to the State. If they 
 become a menace to the State, the State is fully justified 
 in attempting to suppress all manifestation of their 
 national life and even of using violence against them. 
 
 But short of this a nationality has natural rights 
 which the State must not ignore, and the question how 
 far these rights extend is of great importance under 
 modern political conditions. They have natural rights 
 because they are a natural community. It is true that 
 their natural function ceases when the State appears. 
 But even though their function ceases they do not them- 
 selves cease to exist, and they can never be dissociated 
 from their connection with the past and particularly 
 their connection with the natural family. They con- 
 tinue always, therefore, to hold a natural place in the 
 community, and that place gives rise to certain natural 
 claims or rights which the State should not leave wholly 
 unacknowledged. 
 
 What now are those rights which the State is, in 
 justice, bound to accord to nationalities ? , {a) First, 
 there is the right to the expression of their national 
 life, a right to the retention of their language, rites, 
 customs, dress, and everything in which the inner life 
 of. a people is wont to express itself, {b) Secondly, 
 since, as we have seen, it is the distinctive characteristic 
 of a nationality that it should tend to a distinct political 
 as well as a distinct social life, i.e. that it should aim at 
 autonomy or self-government, the State is bound to 
 accord this right to nationalities unless there are special 
 valid reasons for withholding autonomy. A few of 
 these reasons for withholding autonomy may here be 
 mentioned. Laws being territorial, it is impossible to 
 grant autonomy where a nationality does not occupy a 
 distinct territory. The Jews in England, for instance. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 5" 
 
 could lay no claim to autonomy on account of their 
 nationality. Again, even where a nationality occupies 
 a distinct territory, the State can withhold autonomy 
 where the granting of it would result in a great multi- 
 plication of legal systems, and, instead of a single 
 differentiated State, a fragmentary and multiple one. 
 Autonomy, for instance, could not be granted to the 
 innumerable nationalities of Hungary. Again, a par- 
 ticular nationality might be incapable of bearing the 
 responsibility of self-government. A State, however, 
 should be on its guard against its own innate prejudice 
 in this respect. Most governments show a decided but 
 most unreasoning inclination to suspect both the capacity 
 and the intentions of a vigorous nationality. A general 
 standard for deciding when a nationality is ripe for self- 
 government it is not easy to find, but one most reliable 
 test is given by Bluntschli,* viz. a .^reat and long-con- 
 tinued struggle for liberty, and, we may add, a struggle 
 conducted by purely constitutional means. It is im- 
 possible that such a struggle should not be proof of the 
 possession of that degree of political life and endurmg 
 political cohesiveness which is required for autonomy. 
 Lastly, a case may be made for withholding, if not 
 autonomy, at least the fullness of autonomy where a 
 people is so situated that the fullness of political autonomy 
 would be certain to lead to complete secession. f These 
 are all instances of where the granting of autonomy or 
 complete autonomy is either impossible or at least gives 
 rise to serious and perplexing questions. But, granted 
 a likelihood of success, all political justice would seem to 
 require that a desire long cherished and a claim 
 persistently- and passionately expressed for autonomous 
 existence should not be enduringly denied. And not 
 only political justice but political wisdom also recom-. 
 
 * " Theory of the State." 
 
 t " If Australia or Canada," said Mr. Robertson, Under Secretary 
 of Board ot Trade, February 2nd, iyi2 at London, " chose to separate 
 from the British Crown no British statesman would dream of seeking 
 to retain those sections of the empire by force." 
 
512 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 mends the concession. Nationalities cannot long con- 
 tinue to be over-ridden by force, and complete disregard 
 of them is bound to react in time, even upon a powerful 
 State, to its serious disadvantage. The State is in need 
 of other bonds than those of law and force. If its 
 cohesiveness is to be enduring, if it is to hold firm against 
 the " shocks and jars " of war, and even the various 
 crises that are possible in peace, it should rest upon 
 something deeper than force and law or even than 
 utility ; it should rest upon the firm and immovably 
 basis of popular contentment and good will. " No wise 
 statesman," said Mr. Asquith, speaking in connection 
 with the Welsh Church Bill on the elements that make 
 up a nationality, " could ignore these things ; they 
 swelled together, they were the tributaries which came 
 together and by their confluence formed that strange, 
 mixed, and almost unanalysable product which was 
 called national opinion and national sentiment." 
 
 (c) But the question arises, do the claims of nationality 
 include also a right of complete secession from the State ? 
 Of course, any body of men have a right, provided they 
 are not too numerous, to leave the State in which they 
 have lived and seek a habitat elsewhere, and this right 
 is in every case accorded by States. But secession in 
 its technical sense means dissociation from the State 
 whilst still occupying a portion of the territory of the 
 State, and this right, we claim, mere nationality as such 
 does not carry with it. For, first, the State, like the body, 
 has a right to integrity, and loss of territory means loss 
 of integrity in a very important relation. Secondly, a 
 State undertakes certain economic and other engage- 
 ments with foreign States on the basis of the existence 
 of a certain population and certain resources and, there- 
 fore, she may lawfully resist any attempt at disintegra-' 
 tion in these respects. Thirdly, the State which suffers 
 dismemberment through secession is still responsible for 
 the whole national debt, except such portion of it as is 
 specially undertaken in reference to the seceding part. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 513 
 
 For these reasons it is plain that a State is under no 
 obhgation to concede to nationalities a right of 
 
 secession." 
 
 The Territory of the State 
 
 Is territory an absolute essential for the State? The 
 question is clearly answered by Aristotle in his Politics, f 
 Examining the requirements of the perfect State, he 
 enumerates, first, the things that are necessary for the 
 being of the State, then, the things necessary for its 
 perfection. For its being you require a population, 
 territory, and the like.X For the more perfect being of 
 the State a population of a certain size and a territory 
 of particular dimensions and quality are reqtiired. All 
 through his work Aristotle treats the territory as on a 
 level of importance second only to, if not equal to, the 
 population. And the reason is obvious. The definition of 
 the State is found in its characteristic of self-sufficiency. 
 
 * From this it will be seen how false is that principle of which so 
 much was heard in the nineteenth century in connection with certain 
 great political movements occurring in that century, viz. the so-called 
 " principle of nationaUty," or the principle of " one State, one 
 nationaUty," the principle that States and nationalities should be 
 coterminous. It might, of course, be a good thing if every State 
 had that degree of cohesiveness which nationality always carries 
 with it, a cohesiveness which is at its maximum when the State is 
 composed of a single nationaUty ; but there is no ground of reason 
 by which it could be shown that nationalities and States ought to be 
 coterminous. Where there is no common government any group of 
 persons, even though belonging to different nationalities, have a right 
 to choose a common ruler and organise themselves as a State. Besides, 
 suppose that all the members of a particular nationality, say all the 
 Celts of the world, were to come together and form themselves into 
 a single State, surely it is impossible to think that no member of that 
 community could ever again be free to leave that State and seek for 
 citizenship elsewhere. Yet if only one person did so the principle of 
 nationality would have been definitely and effectively broken through. 
 
 t VII. 4. 
 
 X Under this very general category are, no doubt, included the 
 various things enumerated in VII. 8, 7, viz. food, the arts, revenue, 
 arms, courts of justice, etc., all of which things Aristotle tells us are 
 " things which every State may be said to need." For a State is 
 not a mere aggregate of persons, but a union of them sufficing for the 
 purposes of life, and if any of these things be wanting it is simply 
 impossible that the community can be self-sufficing, 
 
 VOL. n— 33 
 
514 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Now, without territory, a community cannot be self- 
 sufficient. On the one hand it cannot be economically 
 self-sufficient, for without territory the population cannot 
 produce the necessaries of life nor the means of securing 
 these necessaries from outside. A nomadic population 
 has no permanent resources on which to rely except its 
 ability to fight and plunder. On the other hand, it 
 cannot be juridically self-sufficient, i.e. a nomadic com- 
 munity cannot enter into right juridical relations with 
 other States ; for, first, it is too indefinite (it is the 
 territory of a State that chiefly defines and identifies it), 
 and, secondly, the mere fact that it is nomadic makes 
 it a permanent aggressor against all other and, in par- 
 ticular, all fixed communities. A nomadic tribe, there- 
 fore, cannot take its place in the comity of nations on a 
 level with the rest. For these reasons a fixed territory 
 is to be regarded as a prime necessity for self-sufficiency, 
 and, therefore, an essential part of the State. 
 
 The State and its territory. 
 
 The control of the State over its territory is a control of 
 jurisdiction only, not of ownership. Ownership is not 
 necessary to the work of government, which is, to direct 
 the community to the attainment of the common good. 
 But on the other hand, without jurisdiction the work of the 
 State could not be accomplished. 
 
 Before the end of the feudal period, the idea was prevalent 
 that lordship brought with it a right of ownership over the 
 land, and not a right of jurisdiction merely. " Kings," 
 wrote Louis XIV,* " were born to possess all and to com- 
 mand all. Kings have unhmited power, and have the right 
 of disposal over all goods, whether possessed by Church or 
 laity, but for the good of the State. . . . Everything within 
 the State of whatever kind belongs to us. . . . This is the 
 first of all laws, but it is the least known outside the circle 
 of supreme rulers." After the French Revolution the title 
 " King of France " was disallowed and " King of the French " 
 substituted in order to emphasise the fact that kingship 
 brought with it, not proprietary rights but a right of juris- 
 
 * Testament to his son. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 515 
 
 diction only. Louis XVIII and Charles X did, indeed, later 
 adopt the older title once more, but at this later period 
 there was no danger of its meaning being misunderstood.* 
 
 The Authority of the State 
 
 By the authority of the State is meant the right of 
 the State, or of that person or body of persons who 
 rule and represent the State, to take the means necessary 
 for the attainment of its end. The authority of the 
 State and of the ruler representing it is limited by its 
 end. Things that are in no sense necessary for the 
 common good the State has no right to impose as a 
 duty on its subjects. But rights extend to all those 
 things that are necessary for, or promote the public 
 good in any way. Thus it has a right to make laws, to 
 administer them, to punish those who violate them, to 
 provide proper conditions, moral and physical, for human 
 life and development, to impose taxes for its own support 
 so that it may be in a position to undertake all necessary 
 and useful work. Excluding the things that appertain 
 to the individual interest alone, or that are specially 
 entrusted by nature to the family, i.e. the rearing 
 of children, the State has the right through its ruler 
 to enter upon any course that is necessary for, or 
 promotes the public good. The authority of the ruler 
 extends to everything that is not bad or useless in 
 respect of the end of the State. 
 
 The Grounds and Titles of Political Authority 
 
 We have to distinguish between the grounds of political 
 authority and the titles of authority, f The grounds of 
 authority are those things on which authority is based 
 as a system or institution — the things to which one 
 makes appeal in proof of the existence of political 
 authority generally, i.e. to show that there is such a thing 
 
 * See BluntscMi, " Theory of the State," V. 
 
 t As was done in connection with private ownership, p, 115. 
 
5i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 as political authority. The titles of political authority 
 are those things on which authority is based in particular 
 instances or to which one makes appeal in order to prove 
 that political authority vests rightfully, in a particular 
 case, in one person or body, rather than in another person 
 or body. 
 
 Political authority is grounded immediately on nature, 
 and remotely and ultimately on the Author of nature — 
 the Supreme Being. It is grounded immediately on 
 nature because it is a natural necessity. The State is 
 grounded on nature, since it is naturally necessary for 
 human welfare and development. But political authority 
 is a natural requirement of the State. And, therefore, 
 political authority is an absolute necessity of nature and 
 is grounded on human nature. The first of these pro- 
 positions, viz. that the State is a necessity of nature, we 
 demonstrated in our discussion on the origin of the 
 State. The second, that political authority is a natural 
 requirement of the State, though obvious, may be estab- 
 lished as follows : The State is a society, and every 
 society requires to be directed to its end by means of 
 some ruling authority. For there are many different 
 means by which the end of any society may be attaiaed, 
 and a ruling authority is required to fix upon one definite 
 set of means and to insist on these being followed. 
 Without such authority the citizens who compose the 
 State would be a rabble not a society. Without authority 
 there could be no conspiratio virium, no common en- 
 deavour, no order, no progress. On the contrary, without 
 authority the community would be constituted of oppos- 
 ing units, actuated by opposing forces, and the result 
 would be the speedy disintegration of society. It is 
 evident, therefore, that authority of some kind is necessary, 
 first for the making of laws, and second for executing and 
 enforcing the same ; and it is necessary in a community 
 composed of good men as weU as in one consisting of 
 good and evil. For even good men if they are to promote 
 the end of the State require to have some definite means 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 517 
 
 determined for them, otherwise all would be acting 
 differently and antagonistically, and peace ^nd progress 
 would be impossible. 
 
 Political authority is, therefore, naturally necessary 
 for the State, and since the State is itself a necessity of 
 nature, political authority is also a necessity of nature. 
 But though grounded immediately upon nature, political 
 authority is not grounded on nature alone. It is to be 
 regarded as grounded ultimately upon the Author of 
 Nature, upon God, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe.* 
 
 We must now treat of the titles of political authority. 
 In writing on private ownership we showed that in 
 order to establish ownership in any case it was not 
 enough to show that private ownership exists as an 
 institution, in other words it is not enough to appeal 
 to the grounds of private ownership ; a man should 
 also be able to make good his own title, i.e. to show that 
 
 * The above reasoning must be very carefully distinguished from 
 two theories to which it bears a certain resemblance, but from which 
 it is in reaUty entirely different. The first is the theocratic theory 
 that the State is founded immediately by God and governed by Him, 
 either immediately or through His prophets or representatives. In 
 our exposition the State is grounded immediately on nature, and 
 political authority is represented as bearing the same relation to the 
 Divine authority that paternal authority does — both derive ultimately 
 from the Author of nature, but immediately they rest on require- 
 ments of nature itself. 
 
 The other theory from which our own has to be carefully dis- 
 tinguished is that of Suarez. Suarez, like ourselves, insists that 
 poUtical authority does not derive immediately from God (nuUus 
 principatus pohticus est immediate a Deo), but the theory that under- 
 lies this contention is quite different from and opposed to ours. In 
 Suarez's view political authority is not immediately derived from 
 God, because it is immediately derived from the people. It is con- 
 ferred in the first instance immediately upon the people, and by them 
 it is vested in a certain ruler. We, on the other hand, defend no such 
 theory. In some cases, as we shall presently see, when treating of 
 the titles to political authority, the people do as a community proceed 
 to appoint a ruler, and to set up a certain form of government. Even, 
 however, in that case they do not necessarily confer an authority 
 already possessed by themselves. But whether they do or not, it is 
 certain that a State may come into existence without any such 
 common act or arrangement on the part of the people, and, therefore, 
 the theory that all political authority is conferred immediately by 
 the people is opposed to the theory defen4ed in our text. 
 
5i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 he and not another person is rightful owner in the case. 
 So, also, it is not enough to prove that political authority 
 exists as an institution — a ruler should also be able to 
 show that authority rests in him personally and not in 
 another ; he should be able to point to some act or 
 condition of things which will be accepted by men as 
 entitling him personally, as against all other claimants, 
 to the position of ruler. What, now are these titles to 
 political authority ? 
 
 It is necessary here to distinguish between natural 
 and artificial titles. In every fully developed State the 
 constitution provides a definite method for securing the 
 continuance of government, and the use of that method 
 will be the title generally appealed to in establishing 
 one's claim to govern, should that claim be at any time 
 called in question. In England, for instance, descent 
 is the title on which kingship depends, and election the 
 title relied on by the members of the House of Commons. 
 In America election by certain elected bodies bestows 
 the title of presidentship. But these titles are purely 
 artificial. They are, indeed, none the less effective for 
 that. But still thej' are artificial. For they are all 
 characterised by two things, first, they are titles selected 
 or ratified by a State already in being, i.e. the State in 
 being possesses a constitution and these are the titles 
 laid down in the constitution ; secondly, they are quite 
 arbitrary. Any State might at any time alter the 
 existing title and set up another in its place, there being 
 no constitution that cannot be changed. 
 
 By natural titles we mean those titles by which States 
 are set up in the first instance, by which a new State is 
 organised, by which a ruling authority is for the first 
 time placed over a people. Any claim that can be 
 legitimately put forward in such a case wiU be natural ■ 
 in the sense that it does not depend on mere human 
 convention like the titles set out in the various con- 
 stitutions. It is with natural titles that we have \Q 
 40 in the present chapter. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 519 
 
 Now, before we proceed to enumerate these natural 
 titles, it is necessary to explain the principle by which 
 natural titles are determined. It will be observed that 
 though nature requires the existence of the State, and, 
 therefore, of a ruling authority over the State, she does not 
 herself determine the individual or body of individuals, 
 in whom the necessary political authority is to reside. 
 But she wiU be satisfied with any act or method, as title, 
 which, while it offends against no existing right, and is 
 in harmony with the essential idea and attributes of 
 the State, effectively sets a ruler over the people, and so 
 makes possible the beginnings of State organisation. 
 This is the principle by which the original titles of 
 authority are determined, those titles, namely, which 
 bring the State into being under a definite political 
 authority in the first, instance. Once, however, the 
 State^ is constituted in being, it can then proceed to 
 fix upon some settled title of succession specially be- 
 fitting its own particular requirements. 
 
 At once certain acts and incidents suggest themselves 
 as specially fitted to be regarded as natural titles of 
 authority. These titles we shall now briefly attempt 
 to enumerate. 
 
 POPULAR ELECTION 
 
 The most obvious, though probably not the oldest 
 title, in point of time, is that of popular election or 
 choice. As we said, nature requires that there should 
 be a ruler ; and if the people are sufficiently united and 
 organised, even before the State is actually brought 
 into being, to fix, by an act of choice, on some individual 
 or body of individuals to rule over them, there could be 
 no clearer way of fulfilling nature's requirements than 
 this, and certainly no more effective way. 
 
 THE FACT OF POSSESSION 
 
 But this is not the only title to authority. As we 
 said, nature requires that there should be a ruler ; but 
 
520 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 she is satisfied with any method that effectively furnishes 
 one, provided it does not violate an existing natural right 
 or contravene the essential requirements of authority. 
 She will not be satisfied, for instance, with foisting 
 somebody, as ruler, on a community already provided 
 with a governing authority, for the nature of the State 
 does not admit of many rival supreme authorities — 
 the supreme authority, as we shall see presently, is 
 necessarily one. But from this we are led to a second 
 genuine title of political authority, and one which is 
 perhaps the oldest in point of history, viz. the fact of 
 possession* the fact that some one is actually exercising 
 control of the community in some capacity other than 
 that of political rulership when the State first comes 
 into being. As we saw when treating of the origin of 
 the State, even before the self-sufficing State appeared, 
 society was already to some extent organised and pre- 
 sided over by the head of the tribe, or a group consisting 
 of the various heads of different tribes. Gradually and 
 imperceptibly this patriarchal f society, if we may so 
 describe it, developed into or became the State, so that 
 when eventually the condition of self-sufficiency was 
 reached, and the State as a result came into being, it 
 was already provided with a ruling head exercising over 
 the community the fullness of authority in regard, not 
 only to its domestic needs, but to all its needs. The 
 position of patriarch would not of itself confer political 
 authority on this head, for the patriarch as such is 
 head of the family only, and the State though a develop- 
 ment from it is essentially a different society from that 
 of the family ; but the fact that the family head was 
 in actual possession, governing the community in £dl 
 its relations when first the degree of organisation required 
 
 * De facto government is accorded recognition in various degrees 
 in different countries. See Dicey, " Law of the Constitution," p. 355, 
 for an interesting comparison of England and France. 
 
 f We use the word in a wide sense — meaning the ruler or rulers 
 in the family community, including even matriarchal communities 
 gee note p. /^66. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS ' 521 
 
 for a State was reached, was itself a sufficient title of 
 authority. It was, in fact, probably the oaly title that 
 could confer cohesiveness and enduring strength upon 
 society in the earliest periods of human history. 
 
 CONQUEST 
 
 Conquest is another natural title of political authority. 
 Conquest puts the victorious government in a con- 
 dition of superiority over that which has suffered defeat, 
 and under certain- circumstances this condition brings 
 with it a number of rights, including even the right to 
 bring the defeated nation under complete subjection, 
 i.e. to annex it and assume complete sovereign authority 
 over it. This may occur not only in the case of a just 
 but also of an unjust war, but the reasons are very 
 different in the two cases. In the following pages we 
 shall discuss the question how and in what circumstances 
 conquest confers this right on the victor, first, in the 
 case of a just : secondly, of an unjust war. 
 
 In a pist war the victor has no right merely because 
 of his victory to bring his enemy into permanent sub- 
 jection, any more than a private individual has the 
 right to assume ownership over another simply because 
 he has defeated him in just combat. But just conquest 
 confers this right of annexation and government on 
 the victor in certain well-defined cases, of which the 
 following are the chief examples. A victor may bring 
 his enemy into permanent subjection as a method for 
 securing compensation, where no other kind of satis- 
 faction or redress is possible. A just war always pre- 
 supposes injury, and, therefore, the victor has always 
 a right to compensation of some kind. Again, annexa- 
 tion may be necessary in self-defence, since a beaten 
 but still independent enemy may often harbour designs 
 of revenge against the victor, and a victorious ruler 
 has every right to take corresponding precautions for 
 the future safety of his subjects. It is, however, a very 
 
522 " THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 grave thing to deprive even a beaten enemy of inde- 
 pendence, and, therefore, a victor should not use this 
 right unless the enemy has manifested his dangerous 
 intentions in some not uncertain way. Finally, an- 
 nexation of at least a portion of the enemy's territory 
 may be necessary for military reasons — for instance, on 
 occasion of the rectification of frontiers, a right which 
 is often exercised in war in order to strengthen the 
 victorious party against future aggression on the part 
 of the defeated enemy. 
 
 Next, victory under certain conditions may confer on 
 the victor a right of legitimate rule even in the case of 
 an unjust war. That unjust victory does not of itself, 
 and always, confer rights upon the victor is an obvious 
 truth which it will not be necessarj' to prove to the 
 reader. An unlawful act cannot of itself give rise to 
 lawful right. But an unlawful act may sometimes give 
 rise to certain facts and conditions which are not them- 
 selves unlawful, and out of these facts and conditions 
 it is possible that rights may arise. Thus, to take a 
 case outside of our present discussion^ — to oppose a law 
 is obviously unlawful and a sin. But widespread viola- 
 tion of a law may often result in setting up a custom 
 opposed to the law, and such custom may then give 
 rise to a new law opposed to the old. 
 
 What we purpose to show in the course of the follow- 
 ing pages is that, after an unjust war, such a set of 
 conditions may sometimes intervene as suffices to 
 legitimise a rule begun in violence and injustice — in 
 other words that a de facto but illegitimate government 
 may in course of time become legitimate, and, even 
 tends naturally to become legitimate. The legitima- 
 tion of a de facto government will be found to rest on 
 two recognised natural titles of political authority, 
 viz. {a) prescription and (6) the consent of the people ; 
 and in both connections it will be shown to be a strict 
 requirement of natural law. 
 
 We shall treat of legitimation in connection with 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 523 
 
 each of these titles separately. And first of prescrip- 
 tion. • 
 
 (a) The importance of prescription * as a source of 
 rights has already been considered in connection with 
 ownership or property. But if prescription may operate 
 as a title of ownership in the domain of property, it is 
 even more potent and effective in the domain of politics 
 as a title of civil authority. Prescription, as we saw, 
 is not a natural title f in regard to ownership or pro- 
 perty, i.e. the natural law does not of itself confer 
 ownership upon every person who has been in posses- 
 sion of an object for a certain time. The reason is 
 that the conferring of ownership in this case is not 
 necessary for human welfare. There is no natural law 
 or need requiring that every object in the world should 
 be owned by some one, and, as a matter of fact, in- 
 numerable things of value are not the property of any 
 one. However, though natural law does not itself 
 enforce prescription in regard to property, it does, in 
 the interest of the community, urge upon the civil 
 authorities the necessit}^ of instituting some such law, 
 since, otherwise, there would be much confusion and 
 doubt in regard to property, no man being certain 
 whether his own rights and those of others might not 
 be violated through some defect of title in the past. 
 
 But prescription, though not in strictness a natural 
 title in the case of property, is natural as a title of 
 political authority, and, granted the necessary conditions, 
 confers upon the de facto government the right of 
 legitimate rule. And the reason for this difference is 
 obvious. As we said, it is not absolutely necessary 
 that every object of value in the world should have 
 an owner, but it is necessary that every society should 
 have a ruler {a legitimate ruler, whom the people are bound 
 
 * The reader may not like the use of the word " prescription " 
 here. We use it, however, in a broad sense as equivalent to the 
 effect of lapse of time in conferring rights. 
 
 ■f Except perhaps in the case of " immemorial " prescription. 
 
524 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to obey), otherwise there can be neither security, nor 
 happiness, nor tranquiUity in the realm. 
 
 Most unhappy is the condition of any people who, 
 during a long period, are made subject to the rule of 
 two governments, one, the legitimate government which 
 yet is unable to perform any act of government, another 
 the de facto government which is physically capable of 
 governing the people, but yet is without the necessary 
 authority to do so. Such a people are without a ruler 
 in any real sense, i.e. a person or body who possesses 
 the right to rule, and is in a position to put this right 
 into operation. Their condition is in a sense even more 
 unfortunate than that of a people who have no govern- 
 ment of any kind. Like the latter they have no bind- 
 ing laws to guide them, i.e. no laws which the legitimate 
 government is in a position to execute. But in ad- 
 dition they are made to suffer innumera'ble positive 
 evils springing out of the hostility of the two claimants. 
 For instance, by lending support to the de facto govern- 
 ment the people offend against their consciences ; by 
 adhering to the legitimate government they incur the 
 anger of the usurper, and are penalised in innumerable 
 ways. Again, the people are torn by internal dissen- 
 sions, some fired by enthusiasm for the legitimate 
 sovereign, some urging adherence to the de facto ruler. 
 And out of these dissensions will arise feuds, party 
 quarrels, violence, bitterness, and disturbance of every 
 kind. Again, the natural wealth of a country, which, 
 without a ruler, might be saved for future use, and 
 would in large measure be presently used for the good 
 of the people, is wasted by the usurping government 
 in protecting itself, in extending its influence, and con- 
 solidating its power. 
 
 This is the position in which a people finds itself 
 after imjust conquest — a position fraught with evil for 
 the whole community. What, therefore, is to be done 
 in the circumstanced ? The people cannot continue to 
 live in such a lamentable condition, an end mugt b? 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 525 
 
 put to it some time, and an end can only be put to it 
 by ending the conflict between the two gbvernments. 
 Now, what it is essential to remember in this connec- 
 tion is that, in comparison with the needs of the people, 
 the claims of the competing governments are of secondary 
 importance only. The essential end of government is 
 the welfare of the people, and government is only a 
 means for attaining this end. There is no claim of 
 government that cannot be defeated by natural law 
 once it is found to oppose the public welfare. When, 
 therefore, sufficient time and opportunity have been 
 given to the dispossessed government to retrieve its 
 position, when after a long period it has shown itself 
 utterly unable to do so, when, in the judgment of com- 
 petent men, it has been completely subdued so that it 
 can no longer be regarded as a serious competitor with 
 the usurping government for the office of ruler, it be- 
 comes the clear duty of the pretender to renounce his 
 claims, and if he should still continue to urge his claims, 
 he acts the part, not of a government seeking the good 
 of the people, but of a tyrant seeking his own good at 
 the expense of the people. Being, therefore, under an 
 obligation to cease from pressing its claims upon the 
 people, the old or superseded government must be re- 
 garded as gradually losing its right of legitimate rule, 
 and, therefore, this right tends naturally to vest finally 
 in the hands of the acting or de facto government.* It 
 may be objected that in this conflict of claims the 
 usurper was also under an obligation to desist from 
 occupation and to give place to the legitimate ruler, 
 and that, therefore, the claim of the usurper is not 
 superior to that of the older government. And this 
 is true up to a certain period. But in the long run it 
 
 * See TaparelU, " Saggio Teoretico di Dritto Naturale," diss. 3, 
 cap. 5, art. 2 : A. Castelein S. J., " Droit Natural," p. 792 : V. Cathrein 
 S.J., " Moralphilosophie," II. 665: P. Schiffini S.J., " Disputationes 
 Philosophiae MoraUs," II., 448 : T. Meyer S.J., " Die Grundsatze 
 der Sittlichkeit und des Rechts," 232 ; and, by the same author, 
 ' Inst. Jur. Nat.," II., 501. 
 
526 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 is the welfare of the people that must be allowed to 
 determine all such issues and must decide all questions 
 of right between the opposing governments. And, in 
 this case, the right to rule, as determined by the welfare 
 of the people, rests clearly with the de facto government. 
 Better in the interest of the people a government which, 
 we suppose, is not oppressive, and which is in a position 
 to execute all the offices of government, than one, how- 
 ever old-established and however good its title, which is 
 not in a position to perform any of the offices of govern- 
 ment. The latter is not a government in any true 
 sense. 
 
 This is what is meant when we say that with lapse 
 of time nature tends to legitimise the de facto govern- 
 ment, provided it is prepared to act as a government 
 should, i.e. to seek the welfare of the community. It 
 means that the supreme natural end of all government 
 is the welfare of the people, and, therefore, the right 
 of sovereign rule tends by natural law to forsake that 
 body which is wholly debarred from attaining this 
 end, and to vest in that body which can attain this 
 end and is actually fulfilling the offices of government. 
 
 It is important also to point out that the de facto 
 government may become legitimised, even though it 
 does not find favour with the people, and even in spite 
 of^their opposition. For the needs of the people over- 
 ride every other consideration in relation to govern- 
 ment, even the passions and predilections of the people 
 themselves. The people, just like the ruler, are bound 
 to do nothing which is opposed to the public welfare, 
 and, therefore, since, in the case we have made, legiti- 
 mation is required for the public welfare, prescription 
 not only removes the right of the older government, 
 but also nullifies every claim on the part of the people 
 in favour of that person or body which is incapacitated 
 from providing for the public good. And this doctrine 
 holds good whatever the form of government which 
 has been dispossessed — whether it is that of a monarchy, 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 527 
 
 an aristocracy, or a republic. In all- it is the duty of 
 the ruler to aim at promoting that which is the essential 
 end of all government — the welfare of the people, and, 
 therefore, no claim or right of the ruler can be allowed 
 to stand if it definitely opposes that end. 
 
 But this transference of authority from the old 
 government to the new on the ground of prescription, 
 is necessitated by other reasons also beside this funda- 
 mental need of which we have spoken, that, viz. of an 
 actual and effective government for the people's welfare. 
 When a usurper has been fulfilling the office of ruler 
 for a considerable period, innumerable prescriptive rights 
 will of necessity have been formed, based upon acts of 
 the de facto government, and these rights will act, con- 
 currently with the general need of government just 
 described, in conferring upon the de facto sovereign 
 the right of legitimate rule. In the domain of pro- 
 perty the effects of prescription are described in a very 
 vivid manner by J. S. Mill, and his description will 
 help us to form some idea of how prescriptive rights 
 may arise in the sphere not of property only but also 
 of government. " It may seem hard," he writes,* 
 " that a claim originally just should be defeated by 
 mere lapse of time ; but there is a time after which . . . 
 the balance of hardship turns the other way. With 
 the injustices of men as with the convulsions and dis- 
 asters of nature, the longer they remain unrepaired 
 the greater become the obstacles to repairing them 
 arising from the aftergrowths which would have to be 
 torn up or broken through." Now, these aftergrowths, 
 deeper and more extended in the case of government 
 than in that of property, must, it will easily be seen, 
 present a very grave obstacle to the return of the pre- 
 tender to power after his rule has been superseded for a 
 vtry long period, and they will facilitate in a corre- 
 sponding manner the legitimation of the de facto ruler. 
 
 * " Principles of Political Economy," Bk. II. ch. II. par. -z. 
 
528 THE SCIENCE OF E'THICS 
 
 Let us examine some of those aftergrowths placing 
 obstacles to a return of the old regime after a continued 
 period of usurpation. In course of time a de facto 
 government will (a) first of all, create in the country a 
 large and increasing party or following,- whose interests 
 will centre in the continuance of the new government. 
 This following may be smaller than the opposed legitimist 
 party, but it will have its own value in that accumula- 
 tion of facts and events which between them make up 
 the title of prescription ; (6) government will set up 
 certain vested interests, as by appointment to govern- 
 mental offices, the founding of state-aided schools, 
 universities, hospitals, etc., all dependent on the govern- 
 ment's continued existence ; (c) it will make settlements 
 of property ; [d) enter into mercantile transactions of 
 various kinds on the credit of the government, e.g. by 
 borrowing money (since every country accumulates a 
 national debt), by lending money (as when the British 
 government lent money to the Irish farmers), by giving 
 out contracts to private firms for the erection of build- 
 ings, the construction of battleships, etc. The work 
 of government is obviously the most important political 
 function in any country. What we often fail to re- 
 member is that it is also the biggest business in the 
 whole mercantile world ; (e) finally, a de facto govern- 
 ment will effect alliances with foreign States often in- 
 volving large financial obligations. These alliances, too, 
 are effected not in the interest of the government alone, 
 but primarily in the interest of and on behalf- of the 
 people. 
 
 These are only a few instances of the many prescrip- 
 tive rights that arise in connection with government, 
 but they will suffice to afford us some idea of the range 
 and importance of these rights. We have said nothing 
 of the innumerable private contracts which the people 
 make on the faith of the existing government, in the 
 sense that they are made in consideration of the power 
 of the government to enforce their observance. These 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 52^ 
 
 also, although only indirectly, set up a claim on behalf 
 of the existing government. But the other instances 
 we have given are all instances of rights that are directly 
 due to the action of the government itself, and, there- 
 fore, they set iip a direct claim to permanency on its 
 behalf. From the first hour that a ruler begins to 
 govern, his duties bring him into relation with every 
 person in the community. As a result, a system of 
 rights and claims begins at once to form, extending and 
 ramifying in every direction, any disturbance of which 
 would bring confusion and inevitable loss to the com- 
 munity. And since these rights bind in natural law, 
 and since their fulfilment supposes the permanence of 
 the government that is responsible for creating them, 
 the natural law must tend, where the circumstances 
 allow, to give that government permanence, in other 
 words, to endow it with full political jurisdiction. As 
 long as the old government exists, the natural law is 
 obviously debarred from doing this, since there cannot 
 at one and the same time be two legitimate sovereignties 
 in the land. But as soon as the old government has 
 disappeared or is completely subdued, the natural law 
 must be regarded as proceeding forthwith to legitimise 
 the new government, and to regularise its position in 
 relation to the community.* 
 
 * The pretender may object as follows : I am willing to respect 
 all those rights which have been mentioned if I am returned to power. 
 How, therefore, can they be regarded as favouring the rule of the 
 usurper any more than they favour my rule ? But the question 
 which we have here to consider is not what the pretender is willing 
 to do, but what is the disposition of the natural law in regard to the 
 rights of the community ? Now, the natural law knows nothing 
 about the pretender's willingness to acknowledge these rights created 
 by the usurper, his willingness being quite accidental. The natural 
 law puts the responsibility for defending this body of rights on the 
 government that created them and on it alone ; and, therefore, it 
 is only of that government that it will take account in providing for 
 their fulfilment. It is to the rule of the usurper, therefore, that it 
 will give its support, not to that of the pretender. 
 
 Again, it may be objected that, just as the usurper creates rights 
 
 that he himself is supposed to fulfil, thus establishing a claim to 
 
 legitimation, so also the pretender must be supposed to have created 
 
 rights and claims in the course of his rigime, and, therefore, the problem 
 
 VOL, II — 34 
 
530 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 The important question now arises — after what period 
 does the right of lawful rule pass out of the hands of 
 the pretender and into those of the dc facio ruler ? This 
 is an exceedingly difficult question to answer in any kind 
 of precise manner, since the necessities of the common 
 good are often very ill-defined, and every scheme for 
 attaining it is marred by some defects. But a few 
 general propositions may be laid down which will help 
 us to come to a right conclusion in a great variety ot 
 cases. In the first place, much depends on whether 
 the pretender has lost only a part of his dominions or 
 the whole of them, and, therefore, whether he still 
 exists as a sovereign ruler of some State, or has ceased 
 altogether to exist A de facto government prescribes 
 much more quickly where the ruler is completely de- 
 posed, as in the defeat of the Neapolitan dictator in 
 i860, and the annexation of Hanover by Prussia in 1866, 
 than is possible against continuing rulers, part only of 
 whose dominions are invaded and annexed, as in the 
 German annexation of Alsace and Lorraine. The reason 
 is that where the sceptre has fallen completely from the 
 hands of a ruler, his restoration is always a much more 
 difficult experiment than when restoration consists 
 simply in the extension of an already existent dominion. 
 Again, generally speaking, legitimation is not effected 
 during the reign of the original usurper. His reign 
 begins by an injustice, and it is not for the general 
 good that a wrong-doer should become ruler through 
 mere lapse of time. This holds true also in the case 
 of property. The thief does not become owner through 
 lapse of time, though his successors may. We say 
 
 of how the existent rights are to be fulfilled cannot be said to favour 
 one government more than the other. But the difference is that, 
 in the circumstances, the pretender is not able to give effect to any 
 responsibilities which he has incurred, whereas the usurper is able ; 
 and therefore the natural law, which considers primarily the require- 
 ments of the community and not the claims of the respective governments, 
 must be regarded as at once legitimising the de facto government 
 and placing on it full responsibility for the fulfilment of every right 
 created by government, even by the government of the pretender. . 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 531 
 
 "generally speaking," for legitimation during the life 
 of an unjust invader is not to be regarded as wholly 
 impossible. It is possible in very extreme cases where 
 the good of the nation overwhelmingly requires such 
 legitimation. The rule of law that mala fides excludes 
 the possibility of prescription, though holding true of 
 government as well as of property, does not hold with 
 the same degree of urgency in both cases. As between 
 two claimants to property, the only issue involved is 
 that of the claimants' own rights. But when govern- 
 ments are in conflict about the sovereign power, the 
 chief interest involved is that of a third party — the 
 people, and when their needs overwhelmingly require 
 that the issue should be resolved one way or another, 
 even the mala fides of one of the parties should not be 
 allowed to stand in the way of any solution that meets 
 the necessities of the case. Normally speaking, how- 
 ever, as we said, prescription cannot become effective 
 in the first generation, nor indeed in the second, since, 
 normally speaking, the new government has not in that 
 period become necessary to the State. But the rights 
 of the pretender cannot go on for ever. The people 
 cannot live in doubt and confusion for ever. Their 
 welfare requires that if the pretender cannot retrieve 
 his position, the rule of the de facto government should 
 be legitimised at some time, so that the country may 
 begin once more to develop along normal lines. What' 
 is that time ? If the position of the pretending govern- 
 ment is hopeless * or if the pretending governmeiit has 
 completely disappeared and all the old machinery of 
 government has definitely passed away, the rule of 
 the usurper may normally be regarded as legitimised 
 after a couple of generations. Where, however, the 
 original ruler or his successors are still pressing their 
 claims, but there is no hope of success for them, i.e. 
 
 * " When," says Cathrein (op. cit. p. 668), "the return of the 
 pretender may be looked on as morally impossible, then the de facto 
 government is legitimised." 
 
532 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of immediate success or success within a reasonable 
 period, the conclusion to which our principle (the 
 principle, viz. that the welfare of the people is primary) 
 clearly leads is as follows : the rule of the usurper is 
 to be regarded as fully legitimised whenever the new 
 government has so become part of the life of the nation, 
 and created such a following, and set up such a body 
 of rights there that to overthrow it would have all the 
 disturbing effects of a second revolution.* If ever 
 stable government is to be attained, legitimation should 
 be acknowledged under such conditions. When that 
 condition of things is likely to be realised it is not easy 
 to say. But considering the rapidity with which govern- 
 ment ordinarily makes its influence felt in the com- 
 munity, it is liardly to be supposed that the claims of 
 the pretender can lawfully be urged after four or five 
 generations of opposing rule. 
 
 (b) The consent of the people, as we have already 
 seen, is to be counted among the original natural titles 
 of political authority, i.e. it is a valid title when a com- 
 munity is forming for the first time into one political 
 body, and a new State is brought into being. We have 
 now to show that the consent of the people may also 
 •operate as a valid title of political jurisdiction in case 
 of conflict between two opposing governments, one, the 
 legitimate government defeated in an unjust war, the 
 other, the de facto government but illegitimate. 
 
 There are writers who maintain that by means of 
 popular consent the rule of the usurper can be legitimised 
 any time after usurpation is effected, even though the 
 original ruler is still carrying on an effective campaign 
 against the usurper and has a chance of success. Now, 
 this view is based entirely on the theory that there 
 exists only one title of rightful government, viz. the 
 consent of the people, and since that theory has already 
 been rejected in these pages we must also reject the 
 
 ♦ See Meyer, " Inst. Jur. Nat.," II. 501 ; Cathrein, op. cit. II. 667. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 533 
 
 conclusion that has been built upon it. The consent of 
 the people is only one out of many titles of authority, 
 and it is excluded wherever, according to law, the 
 government is constituted in some other way than that 
 of popular election or consent. 
 
 The position of a usurper could at any time be 
 legitimised by the consent of the legitimate but dis- 
 possessed ruler ; and, therefore, if the people are them- 
 selves the legitimate sovereign, as in the case of a re- 
 public, they are the persons whose consent is required. 
 But if the people are not the sovereign ruler, as in the 
 case of a monarchy or an aristocracy, the people are 
 not the authority from whom consent is to be sought ; 
 and as long as the monarch or ruling aristocracy is in 
 existence, it is on their authority and by their consent 
 only that legitimation can be effected. During that 
 period, too, the people are bound to refrain from giving 
 their consent to the new regime or doing anything that 
 would directly help to consolidate the usurper's position ; 
 they should abstain from those acts that we shall 
 describe later as indicating popular consent, since, by 
 our hypothesis, all such acts are essentially acts of co- 
 operation in wrong-doing.* 
 
 The process, however, by which one ruler replaces 
 another in the case of conquest, is very gradual, and, 
 therefore, a time must come in the history of a defeated 
 monarchy or aristocracy when the community may be 
 regarded as without a legitimate ruler in any real sense, 
 the fallen monarch having failed utterly to retrieve or 
 to improve his position, and being, therefore, utterly 
 unable to govern, while the usurping goverimient has 
 not yet established its clear right to allegiance and full 
 recognition by the people. When that period arrives 
 we may regard the people, in default of anybody else, 
 as a kind of residuary legatee of the dethroned monarch, 
 
 * The people, however, not only may, but ought to obey all such 
 laws of the usurper as are not tyrannical or unjust, at least for the 
 sajte of public tranquillity, 
 
534 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 with a right to choose the ruler. And should they in 
 the exercise of this right give consent and acceptance 
 to the usurper,* his rule is to be regarded as legitimated 
 from that moment. If, however, their consent is given 
 only gradually, different bodies of the people or their 
 representatives giving their acceptance independently of 
 one another and at different times, the rule of the usurper 
 will only be gradually established, and legitirnation will 
 be completed only when the consent of the people is 
 substantially complete. Of course, the usurper may 
 previously have gone very far to establish his claim to 
 legitimation on another ground altogether, indepen- 
 dently of popular consent, viz. that of prescription. In 
 that case the consent of the people will at least serve 
 as an additional title to legitimation, and will also 
 inevitably hasten its occurrence by shortening the 
 maturing period of prescription itself, for, the consent 
 of the people being once given to the usurper, the 
 position of the dispossessed ruler is thereby considerably 
 weakened and often rendered wholly impossible, with 
 corresponding strengthening in the position of the 
 usurper.! 
 
 A word will be necessary on the various ways in 
 which the people may signify consent in favour of the 
 usurping government. Consent may be given formally 
 and directly or implicitly and indirectly. 
 
 Formal consent is given by a special act meant to 
 
 * We may remark also that should the people, while the old govern- 
 ment is still in existence and has a chance of retrieving its position, 
 unlawfully give their consent to the new monarch, then, though that 
 consent is not sufficient to confer sovereign authority on the usurper 
 (the people in that case not being the source from which consent 
 should be sought), yet by signifying their acceptance of the usurper 
 they indirectly hasten the period of legitimation for the two reasons 
 given in the text, viz. their action weakens the position and the chances 
 of the old government, and strengthens that of the usurper. After 
 such consent, prescriptive rights are bound to form with great rapidity. 
 
 t Napoleon was crowned emperor by the Pope only five years after 
 the suppression of the Directory and the establishment of the Consulate^ 
 Pvit in the meantime he had obtained a plebiscite in his favour, 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 535 
 
 indicate consent, as by a plebiscite, an unliyiited oath 
 of fidelity, addresses of loyalty from the people. Formal 
 consent may be given in a single act as in the case of 
 plebiscite in which the whole people vote their consent 
 at one time, or in a number of acts spread over a number 
 of years, e.g. by addresses of loyalty on different occa- 
 sions from various popular bodies. Opposed to formal 
 consent is formal dissent which is sometimes conveyed 
 by protests of disloyalty, and sometimes by rebellion.* 
 
 Implicit or indirect consent is conveyed in some act, 
 the primary purpose of which is not to express con- 
 sent, but which nevertheless implies acceptance of the 
 new government. It is either negative or positive. 
 Negative consent consists in not protesting when one 
 ought to protest. Positive implied consent is given by 
 any act that tends directly to consolidate and establish 
 the usurping government, or that involves direct co- 
 operation with it. The following are some examples 
 of positive implied consent : the acceptance of certain 
 government offices, e.g. any office in army or navy, or 
 in the higher civil service, or the diplomatic service ; 
 any general recognition on the part of the people that 
 such offices ought to be accepted ; lending money \ to 
 government, as in the purchase of " Consols " ; borrow- 
 ing it ; I the use of the franchise or other political 
 privileges conceded by the existing government ; 
 creating a national party in the new parliament. We 
 may add also — acceptance of a system of local govern- 
 ment under the supreme authority of the central 
 executive. The people by taking part in this system 
 
 * Not all rebellion, however, is to be taken as evidence of opposition 
 to the existence of the usurping government, but only a rebellion 
 undertaken by the whole people, and undertaken precisely in order to 
 overthrow the usurper. Rebellion which is undertaken in order to 
 put aij end to unjust or tyrannical laws could not be regarded as an 
 act of dissent impeding the legitimation of the usurper. Such a 
 rebellion is often started by persons who are quite satisfied with the 
 existing constitution. 
 
 t To lend money to government is to aid it in the most direct 
 manner. 
 
 t A borrower is always compromised. 
 
536 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 participate in the most direct way in the rule of the 
 central authority. 
 
 These are all acts that tend more or less directly to 
 consolidate the position of the de facto government, 
 and they are undoubted evidences of popular consent. 
 
 Any steady and long-continued manifestation of 
 popular consent given in any of these ways, either by 
 the people themselves, the leaders of the people, or the 
 representative newspapers, is to be regarded as a natural 
 title, making for the legitimation of the usurping govern- 
 ment. Such consent would be most potent as a title 
 of legitimation even in the early period of the usurper's 
 career, but it is of decisive moment when given by the 
 mass of the people after a long period of years. Consent 
 given then is sure proof that the new government has 
 grown into the substance of the nation, and that the 
 usurper is now in peaceful possession. A section of 
 the people may still be discontented, and may still hope 
 at a future time and by some good turn of fortune 
 to throw off the yoke imposed upon them ; the people, 
 even as a whole, may feel no enthusiasm for the new 
 regime ; yet, once the people have accepted the 
 authority of the new government in any of the ways 
 just indicated, the authority of the new ruling body 
 may then be regarded as fully established and secured 
 in natural law. 
 
 It occurs to us to add that we fully acknowledge the 
 hard position in which a nationality sometimes finds 
 itself through the legitimation of a usurping govern- 
 ment. It is hard on an old nation to find itself deprived 
 of all hope of ever again regaining its independence, 
 except through constitutional means which may be 
 futile, or by violation of the natural law. But it has 
 to be remembered that the title by which the legitima- 
 tion of the usurper is effected is grounded primarily on 
 the needs of the people. It is their need of a govern- 
 ment in order to secure order and tranquillity, and not 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 537 
 
 the fulfilment of the usurper's ambitions, Jhat forms 
 the chiet natural ground of legitimation in the case of 
 a de facto government. This fundamental title is then 
 later supplemented by other needs and rights of the 
 people, those, viz. that give rise to prescription, and by 
 acts indicating popular consent. 
 
 Much, therefore, though one may sj'mpathise with 
 the hard fate of a conquered nation * there can be no 
 doubt about the moral principles governing their position. 
 If government is legitimate the people have to stand by 
 the principle that a legitimate government has a right to 
 the allegiance of its subjects. Of course it takes a long 
 time before a usurping government is legitimised, but 
 once legitimised, the people are bound to give it due 
 obedience and respect. But whatever may be the duties 
 of a conquered nation in respect of the legitimised 
 government, there always remains to it a natural right 
 of self-defence should the government ever become 
 gravely tyrannical or oppressive. This right will be 
 treated in a later section where the grounds and con- 
 ditions of lawful resistance to oppression are fully ex- 
 plained, f 
 
 EXCLUSIVE ABILITY TO GOVERN 
 
 In Politics we have to take account not only of normal 
 but also of abnormal and almost unaccountable con- 
 ditions. It is for this reason that we venture to call 
 the reader's attention to one additional title of political 
 authority, of which under normal conditions he could 
 not reasonably be expected to take serious account, 
 viz. exclusive ability to govern. As long as men are 
 men, individuals will be found vain and foolish enough 
 to imagine themselves the chosen of the gods and alone 
 
 * The lot of a conquered nationality ought to be made as easy as 
 possible, and as much political liberty ought to be allowed it as is 
 consistent with the safety of the State. If possible it should be 
 accorded the right of self-government as was shown in our discussion 
 on nationality, p. gn. 
 
 t P- 542 
 
538 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 fitted to direct and govern the multitude. But cir- 
 cumstances may arise in which a particular individual 
 may really stand out, either through his own paramount 
 excellence, through the degeneracy of all the others, or 
 because of mutual jealousies and rivalries, as alone fitted 
 to take on the rdle of ruler, and in that case nature will 
 not set up an opposing plea of vanity or presumption, 
 but will accept even this self-constituted ruler, and 
 confer on him the necessary authority for the sake of 
 the good that he may effect. 
 
 These, it seems to us, are the chief titles operative in 
 the setting up of the State. But once in being, the 
 State may adopt any other title suited to its particular 
 circumstances and needs.* 
 
 The Consequences of Authority 
 
 To every right there is a correlative obligation. 
 Corresponding to the right of the ruler to direct his 
 subjects there is imposed on these subjects an obliga- 
 tion of obedience, respect, co-operation. The citizen is 
 bound to obey the laws of the State, provided that 
 
 * From what precedes, it is clear that the theory of the consent of 
 the governed as the only rightful title of political authority cannot be 
 sustained. There are other rightful titles also as we have just shown. 
 Besides, the theory, it seems to us, is based on a completely false 
 reading of the rights of the people in the State. Because, it is con- 
 cluded, the end of political authority is the welfare of the people, 
 therefore political authority proceeds from the people. These two 
 , conceptions are obviously distinct. 
 
 We are, however, prepared to make certain concessions to the 
 present theory. First, we admit that the consent of the people is the 
 ijest of all titles. Secondly, where consent is wanting over a long 
 period, its absence might suffice to make a certain form of government 
 wholly impossible, in which case a ruler might even be bound to 
 abdicate for the sake of the public good. Thirdly, the development of 
 the republican ideal, and the increasing power of the masses in the 
 modern State are gradually rendering the consent of the governed 
 more and more indispensable, at least as a condition of rightful rule. 
 Fourthly, any wide acceptance, by the existing rulers, of this principle 
 Of popular consent as the only title of political authority might itself 
 confer upon the people the right of originating and determining the 
 form of government, which, once obtained, could then not lawfully 
 be removed from them without their consent, 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 539 
 
 these laws fulfil all the conditions required ^r validity, 
 i.e. that they are made by a properly constituted ruler, 
 that their enactment fulfils the technicalities, if any, 
 required by the constitution, that their fulfilment is 
 possible, that they promote the public good in some 
 way, that they are not opposed to the natural law. 
 Only where a law is obviously invalid as failing to fulfil 
 these conditions is the subject justified in declining 
 obedience to it. There are even cases where a subject 
 might be bound to conform to a law which he knows to 
 be invalid, where, viz. conformity with it is not sinful, 
 but where also it is necessary in order to avoid grave 
 public evil. 
 
 Again, subjects should treat their ruler with respect. 
 Respect is the recognition of superior excellence 
 in another, and the ruler from his position is superior 
 to the subject ruled. Respect indicates acknowledgment 
 of his right to rule. 
 
 Subjects should also co-operate with the ruler in 
 promoting the public welfare. The law to promote 
 the welfare of society is first of all a law binding society 
 itself, and it is only because society cannot achieve 
 this end without a ruler that the ruler is appointed 
 with the express office of taking the means necessary 
 to its attainment. But if the obligation to promote 
 the general good binds the State from the beginning, 
 it is surely the duty of the members of the State not 
 merely to obey the laws of the ruler but also to desire 
 the common good, and also, as far as in them lies, to 
 co-operate with the sovereign ruler in promoting it. 
 
 Opposed to this duty of obedience, respect and co- 
 operation there are three classes of sins — first, disobedience 
 to the public laws ; second, disrespect for authority ; 
 third, rebellion. Of these three sins the last is the 
 gravest and most terrible. Disobedience is in a sense 
 a purely negative attitude of the subject. It means 
 simple npn-conformity with the laws. Disrespect, though 
 a serious sin, is yet compatible with the acceptance of 
 
540 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 one'a position as subject, and of one's recognition of 
 the rights and position of the ruler as head of the State. 
 RebeUion is a complete reversion of the position of 
 ruler and subject. It is the gravest of all possible 
 crimes against the State. For that reason it will be 
 necessary to say a few words on the nature of rebellion, 
 and on the question of its unlawfulness. 
 
 ON REBELLION 
 
 RebeUion is an act of armed aggression on the part of 
 the citizens against the government. 
 
 First, rebellion is an act of physical violence, of armed 
 attack. No degree of moral opposition to the government, 
 even though provocative of widespread disaffection, could 
 constitute a rebellion. Secondly, rebellion is an armed 
 uprising, not against a particular minister or party, but 
 against the crown, the constitution, the sovereign ruling 
 authority. Thirdly, rebellion is an act of aggression. In 
 rebellion it is the citizens who take the offensive against 
 the government, just as in murder it is the murderer who 
 . first attacks. We do not speak of the act of a man defending 
 himself against an unjust aggressor as murder, even though 
 his act involves the death of the aggressor. So also, when 
 the citizens defend themselves against tyranny and grave 
 oppression on the part of the government their act is one 
 not of rebellion,* but of self-defence only. In rebellion, we 
 repeat, it is the citizens who take the offensive against the 
 government, making an unprovoked attack on it, in order 
 to effect its overthrow. 
 
 That rebellion is a sin, a violation of the natural law, can 
 easily be established. First, a lawful and authoritative 
 government has a right to obedience from the citizens, i.e. 
 its laws should be obeyed ; and therefore any attempt to 
 overthrow the government by armed violence is unnatural 
 and wrong. Such an act is not merely an act of disobedience, 
 but it is the most radical act of disobedience conceivable, 
 since it strikes at the very source and fountain of law itself 
 — the sovereign government. Secondly, rebellion is a com- 
 plete reversal of the natural order. The attitude which 
 nature requires in a person who is subject, is an attitude of 
 subjection, of submission. In rebellion this order is reversed. 
 
 ♦ See A. Meyer, S.J., " Institutiones Juris Naturalis," II. 599 
 and 516. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 541 
 
 The subjects subject the ruler to themselves, and in the most 
 extreme manner possible by attempting his overthrow. 
 There could be no more direct or unequivocal perversion of 
 the natural order than this. Thirdly, rebellion is a crime 
 against the community, for, if government is necessary for 
 the welfare of the community, rebellion reverses this con- 
 dition and leads invariably to confusion, disturbance, and 
 irretrievable loss. 
 
 Rebellion, therefore, is always a de-ordination and a 
 crime. It is always a violation of natural law And since 
 the natural law is rooted in the eternal law of God, and 
 since all civil authority, being of natural law, is also 
 ultimately from God, so rebellion is a grave violation of 
 the Divine Law, and a grave sin. 
 
 We now come to the problem of the position of the people 
 under a tyrannical government. What if the sovereign 
 should become tyrannical, tyrannical, that is, not necessarily 
 in the sense of cruel, but in the Aristotelian sense of ruling 
 unjustly in his own interest or in that of a section of 
 the people only ? Have the people no remedy against such 
 injustice and oppression ? We answer — every man and 
 every body of men is given by nature the right of self-defence 
 against unjust aggression, and this right holds good no 
 matter what the source from which the attack proceeds — 
 whether it comes from some private individual or from the 
 head of the State. And, therefore, the people have a right 
 to resist and defend themselves against injustice, and to 
 take all the necessary means of defence, even the dethrone- 
 ment of the ruler. 
 
 Such resistance is not to be spoken of as rebellion, which, 
 as we have said, always denotes aggression on the part of 
 the people. It is an act of self-defence and nothing more. 
 It is no more rebellion than disabling one who has the 
 strangle grip on another and attempts to kill him is murder. 
 This is not a question of names only, it is a question of 
 fact and reality, with immense significance in the moral 
 law. Resistance in self-defence is not a crime, it is an 
 act wholly different from that of unjust aggression, and 
 we have no right, therefore, to include it in the same 
 category as rebellion, which is essentially an act of 
 aggression. 
 
 Nor can it be said, when resistance is resorted to in self- 
 defence, that the people are responsible for the consequences. 
 It is the tyrannical ruler, and not the people, who is 
 responsible for those terrible consequences that always 
 accompany an uprising of the people, since it is he that 
 
542 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 provoked the people into resistance. " A tyrannical rigime," 
 writes St. Thomas,* " is never just, because it is ordained, 
 not to the good of the people, but to that of the ruler himself 
 (this being the definition of tyrannical rule). And, therefore, 
 to disturb a regime of this kind is not sedition . . . rather it 
 is the tyrant who is guilty of sedition by sowing discords 
 among the people in order that his dominion over them 
 may be the more secure." It is the undoubted right of 
 every man to defend himself against unjust aggression (some 
 necessary conditions being fulfilled) in spite of the indirect 
 consequences. 
 
 We see, therefore, that the people have a right to defend 
 themselves against a tjnrannical government. But to resist 
 the government is always an extreme measure, and, there^ 
 fore, it can only be resorted to in extreme cases and under 
 certain well-defined conditions of natural law. Four such 
 conditions have been enumerated by a very eminent writer 
 on the subject of resistance to the civil authority. " Re- 
 sistance is lawful," he writes,? (i) when a government has 
 become substantially and habitually tyrannical, and that is 
 when it has lost sight of the common good, and pursues 
 its own selfish objects to the manifest detriment of the 
 subjects, especially where their rehgious interests are con- 
 cerned ; (2) when all legal and pacific means have been 
 tried in vain to recall the ruler to a sense of his duty ; (3) 
 when there is a reasonable probability that resistance will 
 be successful, and not entail greater evils than it seeks to 
 remove ; (4) when the judgment formed as to the badness 
 of the government, and the prudence of resistance thereto; 
 is not the opinion only of private persons or of a mere party, 
 but is that of the larger and better portion of the people, 
 so that it may morally be considered as the judgment- of 
 the community as a whole." 
 
 * " S, Theol." II. II., Q. XLII. 2. The reference here to sedition 
 needs some explanation. St. Thomas is showing that sedition (in 
 its technical sense of sowing discord amongst the people) is always 
 unlawful. By way of objection to this thesis he then aSks whether 
 it is not lawful to free a people from the yoke of a tyrant ; and since 
 tt is is always accompanied by dissensions, some wis ing to follow 
 the tyrant, some the opposing leaders, would it not seem that sedition 
 or causing dissensions amongst the people is sometimes lawful ? He 
 then gives the answer quoted in the text above. 
 
 t We follow Father Rickaby in taking our statement of the con-- 
 ditions necessary for lawful resistance to government from an article 
 in the Dublin Review for April, 1865. It is the briefest and the best 
 statement of these conditions with which we are acquainted. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 543 
 
 The enumeration of these conditions suggests certain 
 important considerations, (i) The people carjpot resort to 
 physical resistance for the redress of any and every grievance. 
 If they could, the normal condition of every country would be 
 one of civil war, and peaceful progress would wholly cease. 
 In every nation there are innumerable conflicting interests 
 to be considered and some people are bound to suffer in- 
 justice. These ordinary injustices the people should aim 
 at remedying by constitutional means only. Resistance to 
 government can be tolerated only in the case of a govern- 
 ment that has become substantially and habitually tyrannical. 
 {2) The conditions of lawful self-defence are substantially 
 the same in the case of resistance to individual private ag- 
 gression and that of aggression by the government. Now, 
 in the former case, a man cannot kill another in self-defence 
 if he can escape the aggression in any other way. So also 
 if a tyrannical government may be brought to reason by 
 constitutional means it has a right to be brought to reason 
 by constitutional means. In this connection it occurs to 
 us also to remark that under modem conditions it is 
 not always easy to imagine a set of circumstances which 
 would justify a people in offering armed resistance to the 
 Crown even in case of oppression. In most civiUsed countries 
 the people are given by the constitution full and effective 
 means for calling an oppressive government to account, and 
 of speedUy rendering it impotent for evil. In a Republic, 
 president and government can be rejected at the polls : in 
 monarchies that are subject to the system of Parliamentary 
 government, like England, Italy, Belgium, the real executive 
 i.e. the Cabinet, can be made to resign ; whilst in Germany 
 the representatives of the people can make government 
 impossible by refusing supplies. In all these cases, of course, 
 tjnranny may be possible, but it cannot be long-continued, 
 and is generally not hopeless. (3) There must be a hope 
 of success, i.e. a hope that the tyranny exercised by govern- 
 ment will be brought to an end, or at least that the beginnings 
 of improvement may be effected. (4) In most countries 
 there is a party known as the revolutionist party that would 
 undertake to direct the people and compel them to rise in 
 resistance for " the people's good." In most cases these 
 revolutionary parties look to their own good only ; but 
 whether they do or not they have no right either to drive 
 the people to resistance against their will, or to initiate 
 resistance unsupported by the mass of the people. If the 
 people are satisfied with the- government or satisfied to wait 
 and to seek redress by constitutional endeavour (and they 
 
544 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 should do so if such means offers a hope of success) then 
 no party has any right to resort to any other means, much 
 less to compel the people to rise.* 
 
 The Attributes of Political Authority 
 
 The attributes of political authority are determined 
 by the nature of political authority and the nature of 
 the State. They are — unity and sovereignty. 
 
 ON UNITY 
 
 The supreme political authority must be one. By 
 this we do not mean that it must reside in one person 
 — it may be borne by a large number of persons. Neither 
 do we mean that it is necessarily undivided. The 
 various parts or functions of political authority may be 
 divided amongst many persons or bodies, each distinct 
 from, and independent of, every other. For instance, 
 in the United States the supreme legislative authority 
 lies in Congress, the supreme executive authority vests 
 in the President. By the unity of pohtical authority 
 we mean that, just as in the living body there cannot 
 be many lives, but only one, from which vitality extends 
 to all the members, so in the State there can be only 
 one supreme authority directing the community to 
 its end, and the supreme ruler will be that person, or 
 body, or group of bodies in whom the supreme authority 
 resides. One State, one supreme ruler, one authority. 
 An organism that was informed by many lives would 
 be, not one organism, but many ; or rather, it would 
 not be an organism at all, which essentially implies 
 imity and harmony in its parts, but an inorganic sub- 
 stance manifesting different and opposing attributes, 
 and torn by distracting and dissentient forces. So, also, 
 if there were many supreme authorities in the State 
 the people would be constituted into many States, not 
 one, and the whole community would be directed 
 
 ♦ See " De Regimine Principum," I. 6. For the special question 
 of resistance by a conquered nation see p. 536. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 545 
 
 not to one but to many and opposing objects. The 
 same reasoning that demonstrates the necessity of a 
 ruler in society, implies also that the supreme ruler 
 should be one, one person or group of persons, and, 
 therefore, the supreme authority should itself be one. 
 
 ON SOVEREIGNTY 
 
 The conception of sovereignty. , 
 
 By sovereignty is meant the legal supremacy * of 
 the State. It is made up of two elements — a -positive 
 and a negative element. Sovereignty confers on the 
 ruler of the State a positive right of supreme rule, a 
 right to command and direct the people in everything 
 necessary for the good of the body politic. The negative 
 element implied in sovereignty is that of complete legal 
 independence of other States. The positive element in 
 sovereignty it will not be necessary to discuss at this 
 point, since we have already fully examined the rights 
 which nature confers on the State in reference to those 
 subject to it. But it will be necessary to get a clear 
 idea of what is meant by legal independence as an 
 attribute of the State. 
 
 Sovereignty is, above all things, a legal conception. It 
 means that in law (the natural law of course) the State 
 has a right to certain things. Physically a State might 
 be prevented from using its powers and rights in par- 
 ticular cases, but the legal or juridical rights conveyed 
 by the term " sovereignty " will remain as long as the 
 State remains. Again, sovereignty implies the legal 
 independence of the State, i.e. its complete independence 
 of other States. Now the independence of the State in 
 the present connection is a very technical conception 
 that needs to be carefully interpreted. It means the 
 same thing as the complete self-dependence of the State, 
 or the fact that its rights derive from itself, are native to 
 
 * As appears later it might be more correct to say that it consists 
 of radical legal supremacy. 
 
 vor,. 11—35 
 
546 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 itself, that they are not merely delegated to it by another 
 State, or exercised by virtue of powers conferred on it by 
 any other State or body. In other words, independence 
 means that legally and juridically the State is not sub- 
 ject to any other political body. Any community that 
 exercises its powers by virtue of authority conferred on 
 it by another, or in the exercise of which it is legally 
 subordinate to another, cannot be supreme or sovereign, 
 and is not a State. Canada and Australia, though pos- 
 sessing a high degree of autonomy, are not sovereign 
 communities and, therefore, are not States. Their 
 powers are derived from, and are exercised under the 
 superior jurisdiction of Great Britain. 
 
 But this legal independence as an attribute of 
 sovereignty requires to be still further examined. A 
 State might de facto be largely dependent on other 
 political bodies and be very far from enjoying complete 
 freedom of action ; it might actually contract away a 
 great deal of its freedom, and be bound by innumerable 
 obligations towards other States, and still be sovereign. 
 Every State in the world is to some extent bound by 
 obligations to other States, they are to some extent, 
 therefore, dependent de facto on one another. They 
 are not wholly free in their dealings with one another. 
 Sometimes the limitations placed on their freedom are 
 self-imposed, that is, they are imposed by treaty : some- 
 times they are not. After the Franco-Prussian war 
 Prussia imposed obligations on France, the imposition 
 of which obligations France could not resist. Yet 
 France remained sovereign. Why ? Because it still 
 retained all the legal or juridical authority required 
 for a State, and that authority was original and un- 
 derived. Its authority was not delegated to it by any 
 other power. There are countries which enjoy very 
 little de facto freedom of action in regard to the things 
 that are essentially functions of State. Afghanistan 
 allows all its external relations to be regulated by 
 England ; both England and Russia enjoy very wide 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 547 
 
 powers over Persian finance ; France and England 
 exercise a large control over the government of Morocco. 
 Yet these are sovereign States. They are sovereign 
 because, even though they are not allowed to use their 
 powers with all the freedom of other States, yet their 
 powers are their own, their authority is original. It is 
 not delegated authority derived from other States. 
 Between the years 1904 and 1910 the independence of 
 Korea was exceedingly attenuated through the control 
 over its affairs assumed by Japan. Japanese financial 
 and diplomatic advisers * were appointed to manage 
 the various departments of Korean administration. In 
 igo'i it was even settled that the Japanese Foreign 
 Office should direct the external affairs of Korea. And 
 yet during aU that time Korea was treated as (and was) 
 fiilly sovereign. In the comity of nations it counted 
 as an independent State, and diplomatic representatives 
 from foreign powers were accredited to it. Later, how- 
 ever, through its annexation to Japan in 1910, it lost 
 its sovereignty and ceased to be a State. 
 
 From these instances it is evident that a State may 
 possess sovereign authority and be treated as a sovereign 
 person in International Law, even though it is not free 
 in the actual exercise of its powers, just as a man may 
 still be a human person though deprived of liberty. 
 A community is sovereign as long as its authority is 
 its own and not derived from other States. And thus 
 we are confronted with the strange contrast of countries 
 like Australia, enjoying almost complete freedom, which 
 yet are not sovereign, and a country like Persia, weighed 
 down with all the encumbrances that foreign govern- 
 ments have successively imposed upon her, which yet is 
 sovereign. The reason is that the Australian Common- 
 wealth derives all its authority from England ; the old- 
 world authority of Iran is from itself. 
 
 Granted then that a State is radically self-dependent, 
 in the sense explained, its freedom may de facto be 
 
 * See Lawrepce, " Principles of International Law," p 67. 
 
548 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 limited in many ways, but, as Bryce remarks,* " third 
 parties {i.e. other States) are not prima facie bound to 
 pay any regard to the fact that the inferior State is 
 de facto dependent. They may properly treat it as being 
 completely sovereign." 
 
 The content of sovereignty. 
 
 (a) Sovereignty includes full legal control over all 
 affairs of State (that is, the things required by the 
 common good) both in its external relations and in 
 regard to internal government. Some writers f main- 
 tain that sovereignty includes a right of control over 
 the internal affairs only of the State. But sovereignty is 
 a superlative term and connotes the fullest independence 
 in regard to all affairs. A community which is inde- 
 pendent in regard to internal matters, but in its external 
 relations is subordinate to another community or another 
 body, is not a Sovereign State, and, therefore, not a 
 State in any sense. Indeed, if sovereignty were to cover 
 any part of the affairs of the country it should more 
 rightly cover its external relations than what are properly 
 internal matters, since sovereignty is primarily an inter- 
 national conception ; it means, above all things, 
 supremacy as against, or complete independence of, other 
 States, and, therefore, a right of defending itself against 
 other States. But, whether external or internal control 
 is primary, it is certain that both are necessary for 
 sovereignty, and that a nation which could control 
 its internal affairs but not its external, could no more 
 be spoken of as sovereign in the proper sense than a 
 man could be spoken of as independent who had 
 from nature a faculty of control over his thoughts 
 only, and not over his external movements. 
 
 Case of the United States. — We know that the com- 
 ponent States of. America are often spoken of as sovereign, 
 
 * " Studies," II. 103. 
 
 1 e.g. Cathrein, " Moralphilosophie," II. 540. 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 549 
 
 and to this fact appeal is sometimes made as showing that 
 internal control is sufficient for sovereignty, *his being the 
 extent of power which these several States enjoy. But by 
 the sovereignty of these States is meant merely that the 
 federation is not sovereign over them as England is sovereign 
 over Australia, that the component States do not derive 
 their jurisdiction from the federal Parliament, that their 
 authority is original and even preceded the founding of the 
 federation, and that, in the constitution of the United States, 
 the federal government has only definite powers assigned to 
 it, the whole residue being still in the possession of the com- 
 ponent States. But the component States are not sovereign 
 in the proper sense either in Germany or in America. Just 
 as the powers of sovereignty are divided in England between 
 King, Lords, and Commons, so they are divided in America * 
 between the rulers of the component States, the rulers of 
 the federation, and the people of the whole country. We 
 include these latter because to them special legislative 
 powers have been accorded in regard to measures designed 
 to effect changes in the constitution, f Being possessed, 
 therefore, of only a share in the powers of sovereignty, the 
 component States cannot be spoken of as sovereign. 
 Neither, of course, are they States in the proper sense of 
 the word, since sovereignty is an inseparable characteristic 
 of the State. 
 
 (b) Sovereignty, therefore, implies a right of control 
 over all affairs of State, external and internal, but, as 
 we have remarked already, only in so far as the good of 
 the State requires. For the most part, of course, the 
 rulers of States are themselves the best judges of the 
 needs and interests of the community ; but we insist 
 on our present limiting condition because it has been 
 contended by certain writers that the sovereignty of 
 
 * As Bryce insists, it is absurd to think that sovereignty must 
 necessarily rest in one determinate person, or body. The powers 
 oi sovereignty together make up the sovereignty of the nation, and 
 these powers, as is shown in the text, may rest in many bodies each 
 independent of the other. The sovereignty of the United States lies 
 within the United States, but divided over many bodies and centres. 
 
 t No such powers are enjoyed by the people of England. No 
 doubt the people elect the members of parliament and, therefore, 
 designate the rulers, but no part of the actual ruling of the country is 
 entrusted to them as is the case in America. In England, therefore, 
 the people do not share in the nation's sovereignty. 
 
550 THE SCIENCE 0¥ ETHICS 
 
 the State extends to every kind of act, whether good or 
 bad, that it cannot be limited by moral considerations 
 of any kind, that, in fact, anything that the State de- 
 sires, it has a right to do. " A modern judge," writes 
 Dicey,* " would never listen to a barrister who argued 
 that an Act of Parliament was invalid because it was 
 immoral or because it went beyond the limits of Parlia- 
 mentary authority. The plain truth is that our tribunals 
 uniformly act on the principle that a law alleged to be 
 bad is ex hypothesi a law and, therefore, entitled to 
 obedience by the courts." And Sidgwick insists f that 
 the authority of Parliament is absolutely unlimited " in 
 the ordinary consciousness of English citizens," and that 
 " in endeavouring to ascertain what the law of England 
 is we never ask what Parliament has authority to do, 
 but only what it has done." He claims also that " any 
 language which encourages a man to claim as valid, 
 here and now, rights not actually secured by the estab- 
 lished law of his country, is dangerously revolutionary." 
 But surely there are moral limitations to the rights 
 of Parliament and of the State. Surely if Parliament 
 ordered the indiscriminate massacre of a portion of the 
 people, say because they were Protestants or Catholics 
 or Jews, or because they were a trouble to the govern- 
 ment, no judge would regard a law of the kind as valid. 
 But whether the judges see their way to administer a law 
 of the kind or not, or whether to oppose it is dangerous 
 to public order or not, or whatever may be the mentality 
 of British citizens, such an order as this would be 
 opposed to the natural principles of justice, and would 
 not have the force of a law, and every citizen would 
 have a clear right of opposing its execution. The civil 
 powers have a right to act for the good of the community. 
 They have no right to do what is clearly wrong, immoral, 
 or unjust, and they have no right to force on people 
 courses of action which are either unjust or manifestly 
 
 * op, cit. p. 60. 
 
 I " Elements of Political Science," p. 2_(, 
 
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 551 
 
 absurd or unprofitable. The natural law is above the 
 civil law, is deeper and more fundamentaf ; it is itself 
 the ground of the civil law, and gives to the civil powers 
 all their authority. The civil law, therefore, cannot act 
 in contravention of the natural law, and laws enacted 
 in contravention of nature are invalid from their very 
 foundation. 
 
 Sovereignty — a necessary attribute of State. 
 
 That sovereignty is a necessary attribute of the 
 supreme political authority in any State scarcely needs 
 to be established, so evidently is it contained in the very 
 notion of the State. The State is the highest possible 
 natural society ; its end is the highest and the widest 
 that can be entertained, and that is attainable by natural 
 means, viz. the good of the race. It includes, as we saw, 
 everything that is needed for human welfare and de- 
 velopment. And since this end is the widest possible, 
 so the end of the State cannot be included in the end 
 of any other natural institution, and, therefore, it is 
 independent of every other natural institution.* This 
 is the first, the negative element in sovereignty — com- 
 plete self-centredness and independence. The positive 
 element is obviously also included in the nature of 
 political authority. The end of political authority is 
 the good of the whole community, and since the general 
 good is superior to the good of the part, so political 
 authority confers a right of direction over all the parts 
 of the State, and a right to command these parts in so 
 far as the good of the whole requires. Sovereignty is, 
 
 * The question might be raised — Is not the good of the whole 
 race wider and higher than the good of any part of the race, and, 
 therefore, may not sovereignty vest in the whole race only and not 
 in the State ? We answer, the State is a self-sufficient community, 
 and, therefore, as a living thing it is quite independent of the rest of 
 the race, and would still have the. same powers and attributes that 
 it has, even if the rest of the race were to disappear. Complete 
 powers, therefore, vest in it independently of the other parts of the 
 race. It is, therefore, completely sovereign. 
 
552 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 therefore, a natural attribute of the political authority 
 of the State. 
 
 Some modern writers * have maintained that sovereignty 
 is only an " historical category," i.e. that it was not an 
 attribute of all the earher States, that it became prominent 
 as a feature of State authority only in recent times, that, 
 therefore, it is not essential to the State. The chief grounds 
 appealed to in favour of this view are, first, the fact that 
 in ancient and mediaeval times certain communities that 
 were admittedly States acknowledged a certain subordina- 
 tion to other powers, e.g. the ancient Roman States acknow- 
 ledged the sovereignty of Caesar ; some of the old State 
 towns admitted the supremacy of the League ; the feudal 
 States owed allegiance to the Emperor ; secondly, the con- 
 ception of sovereignty was a gradual development, and 
 was finally and fully developed only in Bodin's time or 
 later. 
 
 Now, these difficulties should not be allowed to militate 
 against sovereignty as an essential attribute of the State, 
 since, as we saw, it is contained in the very conception of 
 the State. The first argument serves only to prove that 
 either some of those ancient and mediaeval communities 
 which are sometimes spoken of as States were really not 
 States in the true sense of the term, but provinces or de- 
 pendencies of States, or that if they were States they were 
 Sovereign in spite of certain allegiances owned by them, 
 just as in modern times there are States admitted into the 
 comity of nations and treated as fully sovereign in spite of 
 certain admitted elements of dependence. From the second 
 argument the only conclusion that follows is that an attribute 
 may be present even though the conception of it grows and 
 clarifies with time. In ancient and mediaeval times States 
 were not as clearly marked off from one another as they 
 now are ; their competing interests were not so defined ; 
 and, therefore, the conception of sovereignty was not so 
 prominent and did not need such full and clear definition as 
 is at present the case. But any community which was 
 indisputably a State was sovereign in ancient and mediaeval 
 times as well as now. 
 
 • Jellinek — " Das Recht des Modemen Staates." 
 
THE STATE-ITS PARTS 553 
 
 The seat of sovereignty, or, where sovereignly resides. - 
 
 Sovereignty does not necessarily reside in any one 
 person or body, since sovereignty is not indivisible. All 
 sharers in the . supreme governing authority, all those 
 who exercise governmental authority which is not dele- 
 gated authority, are sharers in the sovereignty of the 
 State, and these constitute between them the seat of 
 sovereignty. In England, King, Lords, and Commons 
 constitute the seat of sovereignty. They are the 
 supreme rulers, exercising between them the functions 
 of legislation and administration, whilst the judicial 
 authority they delegate to the judges to be exercised 
 on their behalf. The people in England are not sharers 
 in the sovereign authority because they do not exercise 
 governmental authority. Their function is to appoint 
 a portion of the ruling body {i.e. the members of the 
 House of Commons) but they do not themselves rule or 
 exercise any ruling function ; the sovereign is he who 
 exercises supreme ruling authority. 
 
 The people, of course, exercise immense power in 
 England, since it is their right to appoint the rulers. 
 For that reason some writers have attributed to the 
 people of England a special kind of sovereignty which 
 they speak of as " political sovereignty," and which, 
 they tell us, is to be carefully distinguished from the 
 " legal sovereignty " of the ruler proper. But, as we 
 saw before, sovereignty is essentially an attribute of 
 the authority of the ruler, and, therefore, only the 
 ruler has sovereignty of any kind. It should, indeed, be 
 possible to discover a special word that would express 
 the special and immense power which the English people 
 wield over legislation through their right to elect the 
 legislators. But sovereignty, even though modified by 
 the word " political," is not the word. 
 
 In America, on the other hand, the people are really 
 sharers in the sovereignty of the State. For not only 
 in America is Congress elected by the people, but the 
 
554 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 people exercise a special and jnost important function 
 of government, viz. the legislative function of altering 
 the constitution. In America, sovereignty is divided 
 amongst many bodies and persons — ^the State govern- 
 ments, the federal government, and the people exer- 
 cising their right of altering the constitution. And 
 since this latter right is the most fundamental of all, 
 the people are sometimes said to exercise complete 
 sovereignty in America. The people, however, do not 
 exercise complete sovereignty. Sovereignty is shared 
 by the State and federal governments also. The 
 authority of these latter bodies is not delegated by the 
 people. Their acts are valid, even though they may 
 run counter to the wishes of the whole people. 
 
 SOME POINTS IN REGARD TO SOVEREIGNTY EMPHASISED 
 
 (i) " The kind of sovereignty we have been considering," 
 writes Bryce,* " is erected by and concerned with law only. 
 It has nothing to do with the actual forces that exist in a 
 State or with the question to whom obedience is in fact 
 rendered by the citizens in the last resort. . . . The actual 
 receiving of obedience is, therefore, not (as some have 
 argued) the characteristic mark of a sovereign authority." 
 
 Whether any writer has at any time been bold enough to 
 identify in general terms the two conceptions of sovereignty 
 and the possession of supreme physical overbearing power, 
 we do not know, but it is certain that theories are held in 
 which these two conceptions tend to coalesce, and in which 
 such statements occur as that, even though physical might 
 is not the definition, it is at least an inseparable characteristic 
 of sovereignty. 
 
 Now, that physical might is neither the definition nor an 
 inseparable attribute of sovereignty is certain. If it were, 
 there would exist on earth no person or body that could 
 be described as sovereign. For there is no government 
 that is so strong as that it could resist the whole organised 
 opposition of the people. But then it will be said with 
 Rousseau, that sovereignty resides with the people, with 
 the volonte ginirale. We answer that even if this were true 
 our contention would still hold good, for, first, there is no 
 
 * " Studies," II. 56. 
 
selves ; and secondly, there is no people and no government 
 that could effectively resist the combined opposition of all 
 other governments and peoples. If, therefore, actual might 
 or physical fitness to overbear all opposition is a necessity of 
 sovereignty then there could be no such thing as sovereignty 
 in the world. Evidently," therefore, the conception of 
 sovereignty contains some element besides that of mere 
 physical constraining power. 
 
 (2) Austin's theory of sovereignty is closely allied to that 
 which we have just been criticising. According to Austin, 
 that is the sovereign power which is itself not subject to 
 another power, and to which obedience is habitually accorded 
 by the great bulk of the people. He raises no question as 
 to whether for sovereignty obedience ought to be accorded 
 or not ; if it really is habitually accorded to any power, that 
 power is sovereign. Now it will readily be conceded by us 
 that in most States the sovereign power does really command 
 the habitual obedience of its subjects, and that as a rule the 
 two conceptions are at least co-terminous. For this reason, 
 also, the rendering of obedience is generally to be regarded 
 as a good working test of sovereignty, in the sense of affording 
 a clear indication of where sovereignty lies. We go farther, 
 and insist that habitual obedience to a given person or body 
 of persons might in some cases operate as a title to sovereign 
 authority, and place the supreme political rights in the 
 hands of some person or persons who otherwise might have 
 no title to rule ; and this view is all the more easily de- 
 fensible since the word "habitual" may be interpreted as 
 indicating a very long period of time — as it evidently 
 indicates much more than obedience tendered during short 
 or intermittent periods. If the great bulk of the people 
 paid wiUing homage for a hundred or two hundred years 
 to someone as their supreme ruler, such a person, even if 
 there were no other title, might readily make appeal through 
 such homage to some one of the natural titles of authority 
 already enumerated, as entithng him to the supreme and 
 sovereign right to rule. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is impossible to accept even the rendering 
 of habitual obedience as a complete or even correct definition 
 of sovereignty. For, first, it is not absolutely coterminous 
 with sovereignty ; sovereignty may be present without it. 
 If a new State were created, its government would be 
 sovereign from the first day of its appointment, and for 
 that day or for very long afterwards there could be no ques- 
 
556 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 tion of its having received habitual obedience. Secondly, a 
 people might be in rebellion for a very long time, having, let 
 us say, resolved on anarchy, so that it could not be said that 
 obedience, actual or habitual, was being paid to anybody. 
 Nevertheless, in that case the existing government would be 
 fully sovereign, and would have a full right of coercing the 
 bulk of its subjects, of punishing them, and of using all the 
 resources at its command against them. Thirdly, even if 
 sovereignty and the habitual enjoyment of the people's 
 obedience were coterminous, the two conceptions are not 
 identical, and one is not to be accepted as a definition of 
 the other, since habitual obedience presupposes sovereignty, 
 is a result of it, i.e. is rendered because the ruler is already 
 regarded by the people as legally sovereign. But what 
 presupposes and normally results from sovereignty cannot he 
 said to constitute it or to be its definition. 
 
 From all this it is evident that Austin's definition falls 
 short of the reality, because it ignores the reaUy salient 
 element in sovereignty which is the right to exact not only 
 habitual but actual obedience. Any definition that fails 
 to take account of this juridical or moral element will always 
 be found, because it is inadequate, not to 'square with the 
 facts. Philosophers may attempt for purposes of scientific 
 precision to eliminate this intangible element, as it is called, 
 the element of natural right, but in the last resort it is on 
 this element that the State will generally be found to rely, 
 not to beat down opposition when it arises, for which, of 
 course, the exercise of physical force is the only ultimate 
 remedy, but to prevent opposition by securing a willing 
 obedience on the part of reasonable people, and also to 
 defend the lives and liberties of the people against foreign 
 powers.* There is no nation that will not claim that its 
 riehts have been violated before going to war with other 
 nations. 
 
 * The theory defended by Seeley (op. cit.) ajid by Green (" Lectures 
 on the Principles of Political Obligation ") that sovereignty properly 
 resides with the people because it is the good will of the people that 
 renders government stable, may be answered from the arguments given 
 in the text above. It is just a special form of the theory that identifies 
 sovereignty with might. 
 
 The theory of Rousseau that sovereignty is indivisible and that, 
 therefore, it has only one chief function, viz. legislation, is too obviously 
 false to be considered here. Government is an older and more in- 
 dispensable function of sovereignty than legislation ; also in nearly 
 every State the two forms vest in different bodies, each independent 
 of the other. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 ON THE FORMS OF THE STATE, AND ON 
 CONSTITUTIONS 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF THE FORMS OF STATE 
 
 A QUESTION that may reasonably be asked in reference 
 to the subject-matter of the present chapter is whether 
 any real classification of States is possible, i.e. whether 
 it is possible to discover a few fixed categories or types 
 which will really include not only all existent but also 
 aU the possible forms of State. The difficulties in the 
 way of such classification are many and obvious. First, 
 there are the number and variety of States ; every 
 country seems to adopt a form peculiarly its own, and to 
 develop along lines suitable to its own needs ; secondly, 
 the various forms of State are not given ready-madre in 
 nature, but are devised to meet the circumstances of 
 each case, whereas classification presupposes a number 
 of fixed forms or types to which all must conform, if 
 not completely, at least in a very large degree ; thirdly, 
 such forms as do exist are not distinct but grow into 
 one another, passing through numerous transitional 
 forms, each as important, because as real, as what are 
 supposed to be the main types, whereas the problem of 
 clas diication would seem to require a definite line of 
 division between the forms of State ; fourthly, whereas 
 in nature one form of being excludes another (the same 
 thing, for instance, cannot be a dog and a rose-tree, a 
 man and a tiger) in a single State any form may be 
 united to any other and even to all the others. In 
 Germany, for instance, there is hardly any form of 
 State which is not expressly and distinctively included 
 in the constitution. The conditions therefore required 
 for classification would seem not to be fulfilled in the 
 
 557 
 
558 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 present case, viz. a comparatively small number of 
 original and fixed forms, distinct from each other, each 
 not derived from the other, and each exclusive of the 
 other, just as the main types of plants and animals 
 are distinct and exclusive. 
 
 In spite of these difficulties, however, we believe that 
 a satisfactory classification of States is not impossible, 
 that given a suitable basis it is possible to enumerate 
 a priori a definite set of forms, which will not only prove 
 in the abstract exhaustive, but will also be found to 
 include all forms of State empirically known to us — the 
 transitional as well as the more defined and prominent 
 types, the most complex as well as the most simple. 
 
 But the question now arises — on what basis shall we 
 proceed in our division ? Evidently the fundamental 
 basis is one only. Since government is the first essential 
 in any State, States will naturally be classified, in the 
 first instance, on the basis of the form of government 
 employed. The present problem, therefore, of State-classi- 
 fication reduces to, and is identical with, the problem 
 of the classification of the forms of government ; and it 
 is with this problem that we shall occupj' ourselves in 
 the first section of the present chapter. We shall have 
 to enquire what are the leading forms of government 
 and on what basis these forms are classified. This 
 problem of the chief forms of government being once 
 determined, it will then be open to us to consider other 
 less fundamental systems of classification which we 
 hope will prove of some interest to students of modern 
 politics. 
 
 In our classification of the various forms of govern- 
 ment we are naturally led to follow the time-honoured 
 division given in the Politics of Aristotle. " Govern- 
 ment," says Aristotle,* " which is the supreme authority 
 in States, must be in the hands of one or of a few or of 
 many. The true forms bf government, therefore, are 
 those in which the one, the few, or the many govern." 
 
 * " Politics," III. 7. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 559 
 
 To these three forms of government he gives the names 
 kingship or royalty, aristocracy, and polity, *or what a 
 modem would speak of as democracy. In all these 
 forms it is supposed that the ruler governs in the interest 
 not of himself but of the community at large, for which 
 reason they are spoken of as good or right {6p9al) forms. 
 Corfesponding to them Aristotle distinguishes three bad 
 or perverted forms (7rapeK;8ao-ets) in which the ruler 
 is represented as governing in his own interest and not 
 in the interest of the community at large, viz. tyranny, 
 oligarchy, and ochlocracy * or mob-rule. Of the per- 
 verted forms it will not be necessary to say more at 
 present, but it will be necessary to speak at some length 
 of Aristotle's well-known division of the forms of govern- 
 ment into monarchy, aristocracy and democracy. 
 
 Basis of the classification. 
 
 The old problem whether Aristotle's classification of 
 the forms of government is based on quantity or on 
 quality is interesting and not without its importance in 
 Political Science. The forin in which the problem is 
 usually put is not a little misleading, for it would seem 
 to imply that only one of the two conceptions, quantity 
 or quality, can be made the basis of division. As we 
 shall see presently, however, both conceptions are 
 utilised by Aristotle in effecting his classification. 
 
 The first step in the present division of the forms of 
 government is based on quantity alone. Government, 
 Aristotle tells us, must necessarily take one of three 
 forms, government by one, by the few, or by the many. 
 But these forms are capable of further division f upon 
 another basis, viz. quality. For government by the 
 few may consist of government by the few rich and 
 
 * The word used here by Aristotle is " democracy." But as this 
 word has now been substituted for Aristotle's term, "polity," we use 
 the expression ochlocracy to signify the third perversion. 
 
 f The old rule of Logic forbidding changes m the basis of classifica- 
 tion applies only to each step in the division. Each step should be 
 based upon one conception. 
 
56o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 powerful or the few poor ; and government by the many 
 may be by the many rich or the many poor. Now 
 government by the few poor is quite impracticable, 
 since fewness and poverty are no recommendation in 
 any ruling class.* And government by the many rich 
 is impossible, for never has it been heard of (except, 
 says Aristotle, t after the battle of Colophon) that the 
 many have been rich. We are then left with three 
 possible and practicable forms of government, govern- 
 ment by one (or monarchy), by the few rich (or aris- 
 tocracy) and by the many poor (democracy). 
 
 We have now to bring under the reader's notice 
 'Certain important matters in connection with this 
 division. First, the grounds to which rulers may logically 
 make appeal as entitling them to rule wiU be found, 
 according to Aristotle, to depend on some of the con- 
 ceptions underlying the second division, not the first, 
 quality not quantity. The monarch does not govern 
 simply because he is one, but because he is the one 
 wise or great man of the community. J An aristocracy 
 does not govern because it is small, but because it is 
 rich or powerful, or wise, and because, says Aristotle,|| 
 " they have a greater share in the land, and land is the 
 common element of the State ; also they are generally 
 more trustworthy in contracts." If mere fewness formed 
 the requisite title and constititted an aristocracy or 
 oligarchy, then " a government § in which the offices 
 were given according to stature, as is said to be the case 
 in Ethiopia, or according to beauty, would be an oligarchy, 
 for the number of tall or good-looking men is small." 
 
 * a fortiori government by one who is also poor or weak would be 
 impossible. It is important to note that the quaUty to which Aristotle 
 gives such prominence here is only meant to serve as one example — a 
 chief example — of the qualities required in a ruler. Wisdom and virtue 
 will also count as well as riches. 
 
 t " Politics," IV. 4, 5. 
 
 % For this reason Aristotle expressly states that the rule of the 
 one belonged to a period when communities were small, and wise men 
 were scarce (III. 15, 11). 
 
 II in. 13, 2. 
 
 § IV. 3, 4- 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 561 
 
 And the many in a democracy do not govern simply 
 because they are many, but because, " when taken 
 together collectively and compared with the few, they 
 are stronger and richer and better." * But since this 
 necessary superiority in the multitude presupposes the 
 equality of all (for if men were not equal the few might 
 have the advantage, the few clever, for instance, being 
 equal to the many stupid), and particularly equality in 
 merits and goodness and rights, the claim of the many 
 to rule is, therefore, based upon the principle of the 
 equality of all. The right to rule in any particular form 
 of government is, therefore, based, not on number, 
 which is " but an accident," f (if aristocracy, he tells 
 us, is always the rule of the few it is simply because 
 the rich happen to be few) but on some one or some 
 group of the many- qualities which are supposed to 
 aid the ruler in his work and confer on him a right of 
 government. 
 
 Secondly, if Aristotle does not in this opening division 
 enumerate the mixed forms, it is not because he was 
 unaware of the possibility of such forms (they are freely 
 mentioned later in his work) but because for purposes 
 of classification it was not necessary to take account of 
 them ; on the contrary, to take account of them would 
 be to complicate the problem and increase the difficulty 
 of classification exceedingly. Various modifications of 
 government are possible, due to the mingling of these 
 forms in varying degrees, but the three forms given by 
 Aristotle still remain the original simple types, out of 
 which all others are constructed, just as different plants 
 may still remain essential types, though several of them 
 may happen to be grafted on a single stem. 
 
 Thirdly, Aristotle's classification considers govern- 
 ments in actual existence {in facto esse), not in their 
 becoming {in fieri). It is for this reason that no account 
 is taken in his classification of the manner in which the 
 
 * III. 13, 4. 
 
 t III. 8, 6. 
 VOL. 11 — 36 
 
562 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 monarch comes to the throne, e.g. of the distinction 
 between hereditary and elected monarchies, of which 
 distinction he nevertheless makes formal mention else- 
 where.* He has but one problem to consider in this 
 work of classification, viz. the problem of the forms under 
 which States are actually governed. For this reason 
 also his classification takes no account of the length of 
 the ruler's tenure of office, or the degree of jurisdiction 
 possessed. All this is beside the mark.f Elsewhere 
 he tells us that a monarch may be absolute, governing 
 according to his own will, or constitutional, in the 
 sense of governing according to fixed and permanent 
 laws. J But none of these differences affect the problem 
 of the classification of the forms of government, and, 
 therefore, they are not admitted as considerations in 
 the main problem. 
 
 "We mention these things for two principal reasons. 
 First, they show the exact bearing of the problem which 
 Aristotle set himself to solve ; secondly, the considera- 
 tions just set forth will enable us to answer many of 
 the criticisms levelled at Aristotle's classification, based 
 chiefly on the apparent inadequacy of his division, as 
 failing to include certain distinctive and admitted forms. 
 Aristotle's division is not inadequate.- Our modern 
 governments consist simply of the forms given in the 
 
 * m. 14, 5. 
 
 •f Aristotle was wise in ignoring these innumerable minor questions 
 of heredity, election, the period of tenure, etc. Even now the terms 
 in common use, based on such conceptions, are exceedingly ill-defined. 
 For Aristotle, monarchy was a very simple conception ; it meant the 
 rule of one, and under that conception would be included president- 
 ships, kingships, and all other forms and titles by which the chief 
 ruler is at present designated. But how ill-defined are our modern 
 conceptions in comparison with his I What, for instance, does modem 
 society mean by a " king " ? Is a king an hereditary monarch ? If 
 so, the king of the Poles being elective was not a king ; neither is 
 the " king of Siam," who is appointed by his predecessor in of&ce, a 
 king. And what is a President ? If a transitory rule is a chief 
 characteristic, then the President of the Chinese Republic was not a 
 President, since Juan-Shi-Kai, whilst still President, carried legislation 
 securing him as President of the Chinese Republic for life, and also 
 enabling him to appoint his successor. 
 
 |ni 14,3- 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 563 
 
 ancient classification but blended in va^^ing degrees, 
 and realised in certain special circumstances in each 
 State. The rule of one occurs in the case of all presi- 
 dencies and monarchies, with their varying prerogatives 
 and powers ; the rule of the few — the rich, or mighty, or 
 wise, or learned — is operative in most of our Upper 
 Legislative Houses, in some of which one or other of 
 the qualities of aristocratic rule receive recognition, in 
 others, quite different qualities. In the Italian Senate, 
 for instance, some of the members are appointed for 
 their learning or their philanthropy or other kinds of 
 merit, whereas in England, to say the least of it, these 
 constitute no formal title of admission to the Second 
 Chamber. Finally, the rule of the many (not excluding 
 of course the rule of all) will be found realised in all 
 direct democracies, in the representatives of the people 
 in every First Chamber, as well as in the direct power 
 sometimes conferred on the people themselves in 
 regard to altering the constitution.* 
 
 UNITARY AND FEDERAL STATES 
 
 States are divided primarily and fundamentally ac- 
 cording to the form of government which they severally 
 employ. Every State is constituted of either a monarchy, 
 an aristocracy, or a democracy, or of some combination 
 of the three. But this fundamental division being 
 made, and each State being provided with one or other 
 of the constitutions mentioned, it is possible to dis- 
 cover other divisions also, based on considerations less 
 fundamental, though not less interesting and important, 
 than that just given, the chief of these being the relation 
 of the parts to the whole, or the degree of independence 
 accorded to the parts in reference to the whole. 
 
 States have been divided on this basis by modern 
 writers into unitary and federal States. In the former 
 there is only one central sovereign government, one 
 
 . * e.g. in America. 
 
564 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 legislature and one executive, supreme over all the rest 
 of the community. Examples of this form are France, 
 England, Italy, Russia. In all these there is only one 
 central sovereign power, exercising the fullness of legis- 
 lative and executive authority, and controlling all the 
 public affairs of the nation. In England king, lords, and 
 commons are supreme over all. In France parliament, 
 president, and national assembly * are supreme. In 
 neither country are there any competing sovereign or 
 independent parliaments each with its own sphere of 
 legislative authority, or competing executives each with 
 its own sphere of administration. In each there is 
 only one supreme legislative body, and one supreme 
 executive, to whom is given the fullness of sovereign 
 power extending to all affairs of State and to all the 
 subjects of the State. In France and England, indeed, 
 a system of local government obtains, but the various 
 local bodies are all subject to the central sovereign 
 body. In the British Empire there are parliaments 
 other than that at I,ondon ; for instance, there are the 
 parliaments of Canada and Australia ; but these are 
 completely subject to the central parliament. This, 
 then, is the essential characteristic of the unitary State 
 that it is governed by one central authority, one person, 
 body, or group of bodies, exercising between them full 
 sovereignty over the whole people and over every sphere 
 of public affairs. 
 
 A federal State may be defined as a single completely 
 sovereign State, of which the parts also are States in 
 an incomplete sense, enjoying partial sovereignty. The 
 parts of a federal State are States because they have 
 their own parliaments, executives, and judicatures 
 possessed of sovereign powers {i.e. original powers not 
 derived from the central or federal parliament) in regard 
 
 * This is a special constitutional body, distinct even from parlia- 
 ment ; whilst parliament consists of the two Houses acting separately, 
 the National Assembly consists of the two Houses sitting and acting 
 together. The latter has two functions — the election of the president 
 and the changing of the constitution. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 565 
 
 to certain matters ; but they are States in an incomplete 
 sense only, because their sovereignty do^s not extend 
 to every department and relation of State, but to some 
 only, generally the internal affairs of the State. In 
 America, for instance, there is only one completely 
 sovereign State — the United States. There is a central 
 parliament and executive with original jurisdiction (ex- 
 tending to all the people) over certain matters, e.g. 
 foreign policy, war, post-office, duties, etc. Then there 
 are the State parliaments and executives with original 
 sovereign jurisdiction over all or practically all internal 
 affairs. Their authority, unlike the parliaments of 
 Australia or Canada, is equal to that of the central 
 body, is not derived from the central authority, but 
 is given to them originally in the constitution, just like 
 the authority of the federal parliament and government. 
 Between them these several political corporations, the 
 State parliaments and governments and the federal 
 parliament and government, constitute not several 
 States but one, for it is only between them * that 
 sovereignty is completely exercised, and that the 
 necessary machinery is finally provided for controlling 
 the whole people in all the departments of the public 
 life. Other prominent examples of the Federal State are 
 found in the German Empire and the Swiss Republic. 
 
 Confederations and alliances. 
 
 The federal State (Bundesstaat) requires to be carefully 
 distinguished from what is known as a " confederation of 
 States " or " confederation " simply (Staatenbund), as 
 this latter must also be distinguished from the mere 
 " alliance." 
 
 A confederation is a union, effected by public law, of many 
 completely sovereign States in a single corporate whole, the 
 component States in the confederation retaining each its 
 sovereign authority, complete and unimpaired, and the 
 whole confederation being represented by some public organ 
 
 * And, with them, the people entrusted with the sacred duty of 
 changing the constitution — a duty, however, in the discharge of 
 which the several governments also have a share. 
 
566 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 or institution bringing the confederation into public relation 
 with the parts and with the rest of the political world. 
 Examples of such confederations are the Swiss Confederation 
 of 1815-1848 and the Germanic Confederation of 1815- 
 1866. In both cases the component States maintained their 
 complete sovereignty. The confederation as such exercised 
 none of the powers proper of a State. The Diet, which was 
 the organ representing the confederation, was a Congress of 
 delegates only (from the component States) not a Legis- 
 lative Assembly.* It, therefore, did not and could not 
 exercise any of the ordinary functions of sovereignty, and 
 any function? that it might perform were simply delegated 
 to it by the component States. Each State was, therefore, 
 fully sovereign. No doubt, in the Germanic confederation, 
 the component States agreed not to piake war separately on 
 other nations. But such an agreement constituted no 
 dimmution of the native sovereignty of those States, any 
 more than a similar agreement made between any two 
 modern completely sovereign powers. The three charac- 
 teristics, therefore, of the confederation were : first, a 
 plurality of completely sovereign States, each part of the 
 confederation remaining completely sovereign ; secondly, the 
 fact that the confederation vas of public law, and capable 
 of entering into public political relations with other States ; 
 and thirdly, the confederation was provided with an organ 
 (in each of the cases cited — a Diet) wherewith to express 
 itself and whereby it was brought into juridical relations 
 with the component States as well as with all the other 
 sovereign powers. 
 
 The distinction between a confederation of States (Staaten- 
 bund) and an alliance will now be readily understood. An 
 alliance is a union of completely sovereign States, effected, 
 not by public law, but by private agreement, in which no 
 public organ is provided for representing the union, and 
 which, being dependent on private agreement only, and 
 being unrepresented by any special organ, is incapable of 
 entering into public political relations of any kind with other 
 States. A well-known instance is the Triple Alliance 
 (recently f repudiated by one of the parties) of Germany, 
 Austria, Italy. | 
 
 * Morse Stephens, " Revolutionary Europe," p. 345. 
 
 t May, 1915. 
 
 X For completeness' sake we shall briefly define certain other 
 analogous terms much used in works on international law. An 
 incorporate union of States occurs when the component parts are so 
 absorbed as to lose all sovereignty, whether over internal or external 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 567 
 
 Constitutions 
 
 The form of the State is determined by its constitu- 
 tion. It will be necessary, therefore, to give the reader 
 some general idea of the nature of a constitution and 
 its various kinds. 
 
 Definition. 
 
 Aristotle gives the following simple definition :* a 
 constitution is " the organisation of the supreme power 
 in a State, determining how it is to be divided, what is 
 to be the governing body, and what the (function or) 
 end of the community " ; or again, " a constitution 'is 
 the arrangement of magistracies in a State, particularly 
 the highest of all." f From these we may deduce the 
 following working definition of a constitution — it is that 
 body of fundamental laws % which determines the form 
 
 affairs — the component parts being simply taken out of international 
 law, e.g. the union of Scotland and of Ireland with Great Britain. 
 These incorporate unions are simple unitary States. A personal union, 
 which, as Westlake (" International Law," I. 32) observes, presents 
 only the semblance of a union, occurs when the same monarch happens 
 to preside over two completely distinct States, e.g. the union of England 
 and Hanover from 1714 to 1837. A real union occurs when the 
 sovereign governments of two distinct States though remaining 
 distinct in other relations, amalgamate at least for the conduct of 
 foreign relations, and in this sphere are subject to a common 
 government. Such is the union of Austria and Hungary. It is not 
 always easy to distinguish a real union from a federal State. There is, 
 however, this distinction between the federal State of America and 
 the Austro-Hungarian Empire, that whereas in America the govern- 
 ments of the parts do not amalgamate to conduct foreign affairs 
 (these governments have simply nothing to do with foreign afiairs) in 
 Austro-Hungary the two governments send representatives (the 
 delegations) to constitute a separate and ihdependent legislature, to 
 which is attached the foreign ministry. 
 
 * " Politics," IV. I, 10, irdKiTela /liv ydp i<m Ttlfit rals 7r6\ejui ii 
 irepi tAs dpxiisi rlva rpdwov vev^fnjvrat., Kal ri t6 Kipiov ttjs TroXtre^as Kal ri 
 TO T^Xos iKa<TTOL^ T^s Koiviaiflds iariv. 
 
 t ni. 6. 
 
 i In " Politics," IV. i, 10. Aristotle distinguishes between the 
 constitution and the laws ; but by the latter term is meant " ordinary 
 law " as opposed to " constitutional law." The constitution de- 
 termines what the State is to be, i.e. what its structure is, and who is 
 to have or to share the sovereign power ; ordinary laws determine 
 what the subjects are to do. The second set of laws presupposes the 
 first. 
 
568 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 and structure of the State, the distribution of the 
 sovereign authority within it, the bearer or bearers in 
 general terms of that authority, and the end to which 
 the State is to be directed. Thus a constitution is 
 supposed to determine (in general — not in particular) 
 the supreme head of the legislative department, of the 
 executive, and of the judiciary (whether, e.g. the executive 
 will be under a monarch or a president) ; also the re- 
 lations between the three, and the several powers of 
 each. Most constitutions also give some idea of the 
 general end aimed at by the State, e.g. " the Confedera- 
 tion (of Switzlerand) has as its end to secure the inde- 
 pendence of the fatherland against outside aggression, 
 to maintain tranquillity and order within, to protect 
 the liberties and rights of the confederates and to pro- 
 mote their common prosperity." In general it may be 
 said that the Constitution determines the structure of 
 the State and the chief end at which it aims. Some- 
 times, no doubt, laws find their waj' into the constitu- 
 tion that have nothing whatsoever to do with the 
 structure or the chief end of the State, e.g. the shameless 
 article 25 ^ of the Swiss Constitution forbidding the 
 killing of animals by bleeding. Such laws as these 
 have no right to a place in the constitution ; they are 
 ordinary, not constitutional laws, and their insertion in 
 the constitution is due, as a rule, to some circumstance 
 or exigency of party strife. 
 
 The various kinds of constitution. 
 
 Constitutions are divided into (i) written and un- 
 written ; (2) flexible and rigid constitutions. 
 
 (i) A written constitution is a formal written instru- 
 ment in which the structure of the State, its end, and 
 the distribution of the sovereign power are expressly and 
 completely described, e.g. the constitution of America, 
 Switzerland, Germany. We say " expressly and com- 
 pletely," because even where there is no written con- 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 569 
 
 stitution, as in England, some of the constitutional 
 laws are written, that is, in the Statute Bo8k, e.g. the 
 law destroying the absolute veto of the House of Lords 
 in England. But in England there is no formal instru- 
 ment purporting to set out in express and complete form 
 the fundamental laws of the constitution ; on the con- 
 trary, the most important of these laws are altogether 
 unwritten, and exist only as living principles of the con- 
 stitution, being presupposed in every relation and act 
 of the State. An unwritten constitution, then, is one 
 which depends on no formal written instrument pur- 
 porting to determine in complete form the structure 
 and end of the State. 
 
 (2) A flexible constitution is one which can be changed 
 by the ordinary legislative organ, i.e. that organ which 
 is charged with the introduction and repealing of 
 ordinary laws ; for instance, the constitution of England 
 is flexible, since it can be changed by king and parlia- 
 ment, like any ordinary law. A rigid constitution is 
 one that cannot be changed by the ordinary legislative 
 organ, i.e. the body charged with the enacting of ordinary 
 laws, but only by some special legislative organ de- 
 termined by the constitution itself. The constitution 
 of the United States is rigid ; it is changed not by Con- 
 gress and President, to whom the constitution entrusts 
 the enacting of ordinary laws, but by the people in 
 convention or the State legislatures,* neither of which 
 have any control over ordinary federal legislation. 
 
 The reason why, in most countries, power to alter the 
 constitution is withheld from the ordinary legislative 
 body is two-fold, first, in order to emphasise the very 
 special character, the sacredness, of constitutional as 
 compared with ordinary laws, and second, in order to 
 place difficulties in the way of the too easy alteration of 
 the former. Special difficulties are no doubt raised and 
 special precautions taken in nearly every class of con- 
 
 * The detailed requirements are described in the American con- 
 stitution, Art. V. • 
 
570 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 stitution, even flexible ones, in the case of proposed 
 changes in the constitution. For instance, in Belgium, 
 Holland and Greece it is provided that after a change 
 in the constitution has been proposed, and before the 
 measure is finally passed, a dissolution of Parliament 
 must occur.* In Germany any fourteen members of 
 the Bundesrat or Upper House can veto a proposed 
 change in the constitution. f But these difficulties do 
 not of themselves render the constitution rigid in the 
 technical sense of the term. A constitution is rigid only 
 where a special constitutional body is given power over 
 the constitution, and thus a constitution may be flexible 
 even though, as a matter of fact, in some cases the 
 difficulties placed in the way of alterations may be more 
 effective than the obstacles provided for the rigid con- 
 stitutions. Thus, for instance, the French constitution 
 is rigid because it can be changed, not by parliament, 
 which consists of the two Houses acting separately, 
 but by a body specially provided for in the constitution, 
 viz. the National Assembly, consisting of the two Houses 
 acting in joint session. | Yet it can hardly be said that 
 the difficulties raised by this provision are exceptionally 
 great. 
 
 The Simple Forms of Government Separately 
 Considered 
 
 monarchy 
 
 Aristotle distinguishes between an absolute and a 
 limited monarchy. An absolute or despotic monarchy is 
 one in which all the powers of government are placed 
 unreservedly in the hands of one individual. Such a 
 monarchy may be hereditary or elective, permanent or 
 
 • Also in Holland a two-thirds majority of the new parliament 
 in favour of the measure is required. 
 
 t Since Prussia has more than this number of representatives in 
 the Bundesrat it practically has a veto on all such measures. 
 
 X This body is also given another important function, viz. the 
 election of the President. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 571 
 
 temporary. A limited monarchy is one in which only 
 a limited amount of powder is placed in the' hands of the 
 ruling monarch. His powers may be limited in either 
 of two ways, either by reserving certain powers in other 
 hands than that of the monarch, such as the power of 
 life and death, or by enacting certain laws under which 
 the rule of the monarch is to be exercised. In both 
 cases it is supposed that a power of law-making rests 
 with the people ; for which reason we may regard the 
 second kind of monarchy, i.e. limited monarchy, as 
 equivalent to what we now speak of as a constitutional 
 monarchy,* the difference being that whereas in Aristotle's 
 conception, that of the limited monarchy, it is the limita- 
 tions set to the power of the monarch which are chiefly 
 emphasised, our modern conception of constitutional 
 monarchy emphasises rather the right of the people to 
 a share in the sovereign power either directly or through 
 their representatives. Limited monarchy is thus, in 
 strictness, a mixed form, and not one of the simple 
 original forms of government, so that it will not be 
 necessary to take account of it in our present computa- 
 tion of the merits and demerits of the three simple forms, 
 which we now go on to compare. 
 
 In all three forms there are excellences and defects 
 which it will be necessary to set forth, however briefly, 
 here, since it is principally through a computation of 
 these excellences and defects that the problem of the 
 best practical form of State is to be solved. 
 
 The excellences which characterise the system of 
 absolute monarchy are obvious ; unity of government, 
 decisiveness, disinterestedness (for though an absolute 
 monarch may appropriate some of the wealth of the 
 country to enrich himself, still, as to the rest, which 
 will constitute by far the greater share, his judgment 
 and his decisions are likely to be fair and just), freedom 
 
 * According to Aristotle, limited or constitutional monarchy is 
 not to be regarded as a simple and original, but as a mixed form of 
 State. Royalty or kingship proper, therefore, means absolute kingship. 
 
572 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to vary administration in accordance with the require- 
 ments of circumstances (fixed laws being a check on 
 freedom and preventing one from governing as the 
 circumstances require). These, as we said, are obvious 
 advantages. But they are all quite theoretical in 
 character, and rest on assumptions that hardly corre- 
 spond with the facts or the probabilities of life. In a 
 despotic monarchy unity and decision may be wanting 
 just as in the purest democracy, since the judgments of 
 a despotic monarch maj' be as vacillating as those of 
 the crowd and more changeable than those of a small 
 aristocracy. He may even rule in the interest of a 
 particular class just as an aristocracy or a democracy 
 may. Above all things the system of despotic monarchy 
 is opposed to freedom, in the sense of the power of self- 
 government, and it offers no guarantee that govern- 
 ment will really be in the interest of the whole people, 
 since a single individual can hardly be a competent 
 judge of what the various sections of the people require. 
 We should like, however, to make some reference here 
 to one excellence in the system of despotic monarchy 
 which seems to have been forgotten by many advocates 
 of democratic rule, in spite of the fact that it was largely 
 through this particular excellence that the beginnings 
 of that great progressive movement, which ended in 
 the triumph of democracy over the other two systems, 
 were rendered possible. We refer to the necessity of 
 absolute monarchy for breaking down the power of the 
 nobles, whose hold upon government formed the chief 
 instrument whereby the masses continued to be' enslaved 
 in the mediaeval period. It was the absolute monarch 
 that helped very largely to break the power of the feudal 
 lords in the mediaeval period. In Russia the people 
 on one occasion insisted on the concession of absolute 
 power to a single individual, the Czarina Anne, as a 
 means for breaking the power of the nobles. It was 
 also in some such capacity as this that the Tyrannis 
 first appeared amongst the ancient Greeks. " According 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 573 
 
 to Aristotle," writes Sidgwick,* " and historians generally, 
 the appearance of Tyrannis is to be regarded as the first 
 form of the democratic movement against the ruling 
 nobles ; the earlier Tyrannis is developed out of the 
 demagogue, his power is founded on the need felt by 
 the people — as yet unripe for real democracy — of a 
 leader and protector against her traditional oppressors." 
 Also, " in the leading case of France, the process may 
 be gradually traced through various interruptions and 
 vicissitudes from the accession of the House of Capet 
 to an almost nominal throne, on to the famous moment 
 when Louis XIV is represented as uttering the L'Etat 
 c'est mot ; and historians all recognise the value to the 
 monarchy of the support of the tiers etat by which 
 Denmark, in A.D. 1660, passed suddenly to absolute 
 monarchy from a form of government which was very 
 near to oligarchy. The alliance of king and commons 
 against the governing nobles is as palpable and con- 
 spicuous as it is at the beginning of any of the Greek 
 tyrannies." An absolute monarchy, therefore, is not 
 without its excellences. It was often necessary in 
 ancient times, where what was chiefly required in govern- 
 ment were the two qualities of unity and firmness, the 
 populace not being sufficiently developed or organised 
 to give promise of either. It was also necessary both 
 then and at a later period as the bulwark of the popular 
 liberties against encroachment on the part of the nobles. 
 But a comparison of the defects and excellences we 
 have mentioned will show that the rule of the absolute 
 monarch is out of place in the modern State, except in 
 abnormal circumstances, f or under conditions approach- 
 ing those usually obtaining in the case of undeveloped 
 communities. 
 
 * " Development of European Polity," p. i88. 
 t e.g. on occasion of war. In America in war-time the President 
 becomes practically a dictator. 
 
574 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 ARISTOCRACY 
 
 The advantages of aristocracy when examined from 
 the point of view of theory alone are also obvious. As 
 compared with absolute kingship, aristocracy represents 
 the rule of a number of men as opposed to one man, and 
 it is to be expected that the combined wisdom of a 
 number of men acting in concert will be greater than that 
 of a single individual. As compared with democracy, 
 aristocracy represents the rule of enlightenment over 
 unenlightenment, the firm judgment of a compact and 
 energetic group of competent men over the distraction 
 and incompetence of a disorganised crowd, administra- 
 tion by a group of men with a stake in the land, and with 
 important interests to protect, over administration by 
 irresponsibles who have nothing to lose or to jeopardise 
 by their mistakes, and nothing, therefore, to render 
 them cautious where caution is needed, or venturesome 
 where daring is required. 
 
 But all these excellences are more than outbalanced 
 by the corresponding defects. Like absolute kingship, 
 a pure aristocracy withholds from the people all the 
 delights of freedom in its highest sense, i.e. self-govern- 
 ment. Also government by the few only is bound to 
 deteriorate into government in the interest of the few or in 
 the interest of one particular class in the State. Indeed, 
 in the light of this particular danger, aristocracy is to be 
 regarded as far inferior to the system of absolute king- 
 ship. • It is quite inconceivable that an absolute monarch 
 could for very long administer the country in his own 
 interest alone ; but government by an aristocracy in 
 the interest of their own class is easily conceivable. 
 What is more, a sovereign aristocracy is, as a rule, an 
 absolute aristocracy in the sense that the laws themselves 
 have very little sacredness in their eyes, their own 
 interest being paramount, and, therefore, they wiU flout 
 and ignore laws, even of their own making, when circum- 
 stances turn these laws to their disfavour. Our argument 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 575 
 
 assumes, of course, that an untramelled aristocracy 
 tends naturally to degenerate into an oligarchy ruling 
 in its own interest alone ; but this assumption we have 
 no difficulty in making. A sovereign aristocracy has 
 both the temptation and the opportunity to rule in its 
 own interest chiefly, much more so than an absolute 
 monarch, and temptation and opportunity are a com- 
 bination not easily resisted by ordinary mortals.* 
 
 But though all this is true of aristocracy, pure and 
 simple, an aristocracy may most usefully be entrusted 
 with a portion of the sovereign power in a State for the 
 most part democratic in character, and in this capacity 
 may be made to supply the element of permanence 
 and stability so evidently wanting in the purely demo- 
 cratic State. 
 
 DEMOCRACY 
 
 Democracy is of two kinds, direct and indirect. In a 
 direct democracy the people are the bearers of sovereign 
 power, which power they themselves immediately exer- 
 cise at least in the domain of legislation. In an indirect 
 democracy the sovereign power is exercised through 
 representatives chosen by the people. Direct democracy 
 was the form of government that obtained in ancient 
 times at Athens f and that still obtains among some of 
 the smaller cantons of Switzerland. Indirect democracy 
 is exemplified in countries like America and France. J 
 
 * See Aristotle's powerful criticism of the evils of a pure aristocracy. 
 "Politics," IV. II, 5. 
 
 fSee the interesting description given in the " Acharnians " of 
 the Athenian Assembly. In his " Growth of the English Con- 
 stitution," Prof. Freeman gives a fascinating account of some of the 
 popular Assemblies of Switzerland. 
 
 X It is necessary to point out that in an indirect democracy the 
 representatives of the people are not mere delegates. A delegate 
 acts not from himself but as the instrument of another. He has no 
 personal discretion, and for validity his acts must accord with the 
 intention of his principal. Parliamentary representatives, on the 
 other hand, can pass valid laws even though they are not approved 
 by the people. As an example of legislators who are delegates merely 
 we may quote the members of the Upper House in Germany, fhese 
 simply record the wishes of the State governments. 
 
576 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 It will not be necessary to consider the merits and 
 demerits of direct democracy — a form of government 
 which is obviously suitable only for very small States 
 and for social and industrial conditions of a very simple 
 type. It would be wholly unworkable in a country 
 of such a population and of such a complex system as 
 France or England, or even Switzerland taken as a 
 whole. 
 
 But though the whole function of legislation could 
 not in any modern State be allowed to devolve directly 
 on the people, nevertheless a part of that function may 
 often usefully be entrusted to the people, particularly 
 such part of it as does not call for constant exercise, 
 and is of sufficient importance to awaken the popular 
 interest when the need for exercising it does occur. As 
 a rule, it is in connection with proposed changes in the 
 constitution that the people are given this right of 
 direct legislation, since such questions only rarely come 
 up for discussion : but when they do occur their im- 
 portance is at once recognised and appreciated by all. 
 In America, for instance, a change in the federal con- 
 stitution is enacted either by the consent of the legis- 
 latures in three-fourths of the States, or by conventions 
 of the people in three-fourths of the States.* The people 
 are thus given a good deal of direct power over the con- 
 stitution. 
 
 SWITZERI.AND — THE REFERENDUM AND INITIATIVE 
 
 In the Federation of Switzerland the direct legislative 
 powers of the people are very wide. Let us first speal^of 
 constitutional laws. Any proposed change in the con- 
 
 * There are two methods for proposing such changes. The federal 
 Congress may itself by a two-thirds vote in each House prepare and 
 propose amendments ; or the legislatures of two-thirds of the States 
 may call on Congress to summon a constitutive convention of all 
 the people, which convention will then draft and submit amendments. 
 It is Congress that decides the mode of election and constitution of 
 this convention, and it is Congress that decides whether a proposed 
 amendment will be submitted for final enactment to conventions in 
 the various States, or to the legislatures of the States. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE ^JJ 
 
 StitUtioil has to be submitted to the people by referendum, 
 and unless accepted, not only by a majority »f the people 
 taken as a whole, but also by a majority of the cantons, 
 it cannot become law. In other words, in Switzerland the 
 referendum in regard to proposed changes in the constitu- 
 tion is obligatory, not optional. But the people of Switzer- 
 land also enjoy another power in regard to legislation dealing 
 with the constitution. Not only must all measures in matters 
 regarding the constitution be referred to them for their 
 acceptance before such measures can pass into law, but the 
 people enjoy also a right of initiative in regard to these 
 measures. Any 50,000 voters in Switzerland could demand 
 a totally new constitution, i.e. they could call on Parliament 
 to ask the people of Switzerland whether a new constitution 
 is required, and if the people answer " yes " a new con- 
 stitution would have to be drawn up in Parliament * and 
 submitted to the people. Or if there is question of only a 
 partial change in the constitution any 50,000 voters might 
 themselves, if they cared to do so, draw up a measure in 
 its final form embodying the proposed change, and Parlia- 
 ment would have to submit this measure to the people, f 
 
 Then, secondly, the people have power in regard to 
 ordinary laws, their right of referendum | extending not 
 only to constitutional but to ordinary laws as well. But 
 whereas the referendum is obligatory in regard to all pro- 
 posed changes in the constitution, so that no change can 
 be made until the proposed change is submitted to and 
 accepted by the people, it is optional in regard to ordinary 
 legislation. Parliament in Switzerland may pass an ordinary 
 measure, just as in other countries, without appeal to the 
 people. Nevertheless, if the people so desire, they can insist 
 on any law passed in Parliament being submitted to them 
 for ratification before it becomes operative, § and if it fails 
 to meet with their approval, the law, even though passed 
 in Parliament, faUs to the ground. The request to have an 
 
 * After a special general election. 
 
 t They might, however, content themselves with proposing a 
 change in general terms, and Parliament, having found that a majority 
 of the people favoured the change, would then proceed to draw up a 
 definite measure, which measure would finally be submitted to the 
 people. 
 
 J Strange to say, the people have no right of initiative in regard 
 to ordinary federal legislation. One would have thought that the 
 constitution, much more than ordinary legislation, required to be pro- 
 tected from the fickleness and passion of the multitude in Switzerland 
 just as in other places. 
 
 \ i.e. 90 days after it is passed. 
 
 VOL. II — 37 
 
578 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 ordinary law submitted to the people can be made either 
 by eight cantons or by any 30,000 voters.* 
 
 It is this right of referendum in regard to ordinary legisla- 
 tion that is the most distinctive mark of the Swiss system. 
 
 The question arises whether the referendum is really 
 a valuable adjunct to the political machinery of any 
 normal country ? In favour of the referendum it is 
 argued by Mr. Dicey {Fortnightly Review, 1910) that 
 " the referendum makes it possible in a way which is 
 now impossible in England to get on kny matter of 
 real importance, a clear and distinct expression of the 
 will of the nation." At an election a multitude of 
 opposing issues are put before the people, and it is 
 impossible to tell on which, if any, the nation has re- 
 turned a particular party to power. Again, it is argued 
 that the referendum affords the only hope of any real 
 check ever being placed to the growth of the party system. 
 On the other side it is pointed out by Maine (" Popular 
 Government ") that a referendum would stop a great 
 deal of useful legislation, since most people would find 
 it easier to discover something unfavourable in a measure 
 than something favourable. If it depended on the 
 people, for instance, machinery would never have been 
 introduced into England and allowed to supplant ordinary 
 labour as it has done. Appeal is also made to the in- 
 ability of the people to understand the technicalities of a 
 measure submitted to it, and particularly its detailed 
 bearings ; also to their apathy in regard to most measures, 
 as witness the smallness of the vote recorded in many 
 of the cantons in Switzerland on measures submitted for 
 their approval, in comparison with the large vote cast 
 for the elections, t Finally, it is claimed, that referendum 
 
 * But an ordinary law when submitted requires only to meet with 
 the approval of the majority of the whole Swiss people; a constitu- 
 tional law, on the other hand, must commend itself to a majority both 
 of the people and of the cantons. 
 
 t See Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe," 
 II. 261. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 579 
 
 lowers the sense of responsibility of the people's repre- 
 sentatives. Representatives will often in* Switzerland 
 vote for a measure, hoping that it might later be 
 rejected by the people. 
 
 With these arguments available on either side, the 
 only conclusion possible is that, where the referendum 
 does not exist, it ought not to be introduced without a 
 continvTous and imperative demand on the part of the 
 people. Where, however, the referendum has grown 
 up with the constitution and is not grossly misused it 
 ought to be continued. 
 
 Indirect democracy is now the accepted system in all 
 countries adopting the democratic form of government, 
 and it is not necessary to distinguish its merits and 
 defects. Besides, even the consideration of any one of 
 the questions suggested by this form of government, 
 e.g. the question of the extent of the franchise * or of 
 the rights of minorities to representation | would lead 
 us too far afield in a work like the present. But it is 
 obviously necessary to say something on the conception 
 of democratic government taken by itself, as opposed 
 to discussion on either of its two types. 
 
 Democracy versus the other forms. 
 
 Abstracting, then, from the distinction of direct and 
 indirect democracy, and confining our attention to the 
 rule of " the many " or of " all," as contrasted with the 
 rule of " the few " or of " one," we may here, attempt 
 to sum up very briefly the advantages and disadvantages 
 of pure unmixed democracy {i.e. a democracy in which 
 the sovereign power lies wholly in the hands of the 
 
 * See John Stuart Mill's " Representative Government." 
 t The system devised for giving representation to minoritief is 
 known as Proportional Representation. It has various forms. They 
 are fully described in J H. Humphrey's work on Proportional Repre- 
 sentation, and J. Meredith's work on the same subject. 
 
58o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 people) over the other two systems of monarchy or 
 aristocracy.* 
 
 The first obvious advantage is that, under the system 
 of pure democracy, the people are fully free. The word 
 freedom is understood in two senses ; first, there is what 
 John Oliver Hobbes describes as the " desolate freedom 
 of the wild ass," meaning the power to do what one 
 pleases, unrestrained by any requirements of law, or 
 moral duty, or social obligation, or dictate of human 
 reason of any kind. Such freedom is valueless to 
 creatures of reason, and scarcely even merits the 
 name of freedom ; for without law there can be 
 no guarantee of protection, and without a guarantee 
 of protection no man is his own master — ^his life, 
 his possessions, and his rights being open to in- 
 vasion at any moment. But freedom is understood 
 in another and better sense, the sense in which it 
 possesses a value for men, viz. the power and right 
 of self-government or self-control according to law 
 and reason, and it is in this sense that we set a value 
 upon freedom in the present discussion. In a democracy 
 the people direct and govern themselves according to 
 laws which they themselves enact, and, therefore, in a 
 democracy the delights and blessings of freedom are 
 most fully felt. We do not, of course, maintain that 
 freedom is impossible under the other two systems ; 
 what we maintain is, as we have just explained, that 
 under the democratic system the people are fully free, 
 that not only are they guaranteed the exercise of their 
 rights but these rights are guaranteed according to 
 laws of their own making. Their right, therefore, is 
 the right of complete self-direction and self-control, and 
 self -direction is the chief element in freedom, f 
 
 On the other hand, however, it is to be admitted that 
 
 * These advantages and disadvantages it will not be necessary 
 to set out separately. The disadvantages are here given in the form 
 of modifications to the several arguments based on the advantages of 
 democracy. 
 
 f Liberum, says St. Thomas, est causa sui. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 581 
 
 the value of this right of self-control is itaelf largely 
 dependent on the value of the laws under which, and 
 according to which, one's liberty is exercised and directed ; 
 and, therefore, since,, as we shall later prove, democracy, 
 though a necessary element of the best constitution, is 
 not itself the best, it follows that the laws of a pure 
 •democracy are not likely to be the best, and that the 
 freedom afforded by /democracy will itself be a maximum, 
 not under the system of democracy pure and simple, 
 but under a mixed rule, in which the democracy, though 
 occupying an important and controlling position, is itself 
 modified and diluted by admixture with other systems. 
 A second obvious advantage lies in the fact that 
 government by all will probably be in the interest of 
 all, just as government by one or the few tends to be 
 in the interest of one or the few, and, ab we have already 
 seen, it is the intere&t of all that constitutes the chief 
 and proper object of government. But this argument 
 has to be modified by the admission that government 
 is never exercised in a democracy by all, but by a 
 majority, or by parties representing the majority, and 
 often it is not exercised in the interest of all but of the 
 majority only. Even, however, in this modified form, 
 our argument can be made to afford us valuable con- 
 clusions. One is that the interests of the people at 
 large, whether the people are divided into parties or 
 not, although not represented according to absolute 
 justice, will more properly be represented in a democracy 
 than in any other of the simple forms of government. 
 Also, though the system of majority rule may favour 
 at one time a certain flection of the community only, 
 at another time it will favour another and opposing 
 section, and in this way some kind of rough justice will 
 in the end have been done to all the parties. It will 
 be said that the interests represented by the richer 
 classes cannot be properly defended in a pure de- 
 mocracy. We answer, first, that it is possible to ex- 
 aggerate the importance of these interests as opposed 
 
582 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 to the interests of the people at large. The special 
 interests of the rich consist for the most part of such 
 things as money, lands, commerce, industry : and these 
 bear no proportion to the interests of the people at large, 
 which consist of the lives and liberties of the people 
 themselves. We admit, however, that in a pure de- 
 mocracy the interests of the rich may not receive 
 sufficient care, and for that, amongst other reasons, 
 we are ourselves disposed to favour a mixed rather 
 than a pure democracy. What, however, we are here 
 considering are the relative merits of the simpler forms 
 of government, of pure democracy as opposed to govern- 
 ment by the few or by one, and in that connection our 
 claim is that political justice is altogether on the side 
 of the first system as against the other two, and also 
 that in determining the degree of prominence that 
 should be accorded to these different interests in the 
 best State, to the populace should be given such a 
 degree of ultimate controlling-power as corresponds 
 with the greater interests represented by the people 
 at large, as compared with the interests of the few 
 " rich and noble." 
 
 A third advantage claimed for democracy consists in 
 the fact that the public interest, which is the proper 
 object of government, is more likely to be understood 
 by the whole community than by any section of it, 
 and particularly by a privileged section like an aris- 
 tocracy or a monarch. And this is true in great measure 
 but not wholly. For, in the first place, the vast majority 
 of the people are ignorant and uneducated, and inclined 
 rather to judge of immediate and evident or superficial 
 consequences than of the more remote and more per- 
 manent effects.* Also they very easily become the 
 
 * See interesting argument in Aristotle (" Politics," IV. 13), 
 describing the devices whereby the oligarchies of old deceived 
 the people, for instance, fining only the rich for non-attendance at 
 the Assembly, so that the poor (foolishly regarding the law as con- 
 ferring a privilege on themselves) might stay away, leaving the better 
 plasses to dominate the Assembly. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 583 
 
 victims of designing demagogues, interested for the 
 most part not in the peoples' welfare but*n their own. 
 Balancing these two sets of considerations, the con- 
 clusion would seem to be that, though the populace are 
 liable to many errors, they have nevertheless a strong 
 and very living consciousness at least of the greater 
 and broader interests and issues, and it is on a right 
 judgment as to the broader interests and issues that 
 successful government depends, rather than on a correct 
 estimate of effects in detail. The conclusion would 
 seem to be that at least the remote control of govern- 
 ment may safely be left to the people, such a control 
 as requires command of the broader issues, the detailed 
 work of government being left in the hands of others, 
 who yet should be in some degree responsible to the 
 people. 
 
 A fourth advantage claimed for democracy consists 
 in the immunity which democracy affords against 
 revolution, it being impossible that the people should 
 rebel against themselves or be dissatisfied with laws 
 of their own making. On the other hand, it is argued 
 that, even under a democracy, one faction may rebel 
 against another, and that a strong minority may success- 
 fully resist the majority, and that, so, a democratic 
 State is not immune from rebellion or continued dis- 
 satisfaction any more than an aristocracy or a monarchy. 
 We believe, however, that in these respects democracy 
 is at least comparatively immune from the danger of 
 rebellion. The various opposing issues having been 
 fought out at the polls, it is not likely that they 
 will again be combated for in the field. But whether 
 they may or may not, it is certain that, for stability 
 of government, confidence on the part of the people 
 is absolutely required, and that such confidence can be 
 secured in one way only, viz. by granting to the peoplfe 
 a large and overwhelming degree of control oyer theif 
 own affairs. 
 
584 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 THE BEST STATE 
 
 The two preceding paragraphs Can leave no doubt in 
 the mind of the reader as to our view of the question 
 so keenly discussed by students of Politics from the 
 most ancient times — the question of the best State. 
 We suppose that, judged in the abstract and absolutely, 
 the most efficient rule of all would be that of a single in- 
 dividual,* perfect in knowledge, in interests, in capacity 
 for work, and fully equipped in everything that goes 
 to make up the special excellence of a good ruler. Under 
 such a rule integrity and unity of purpose would combine 
 with complete efficiency in the selecting of the means, 
 to produce the maximum of public prosperity and the 
 most enduring peace. But perfect men in this sense 
 do not exist in the ordinary human State^ and, therefore, 
 such a rule is not to be regarded as a practicable or 
 possible system of government for man as he really is. 
 
 But the problem of the best kind of government may 
 be raised in practical form in either of the two following 
 senses : first, taking the circumstances of each State 
 into account, what is the best form of government for 
 that State ? secondly, normally speaking and com- 
 paring one state with another, what is the form of 
 government that realises the essential ends of the State 
 in the fullest and highest way all round, or that is sub- 
 ject to the fewest and least important defects ? To 
 the first question no general answer can be given, except, 
 perhaps, the not very enlightening answer that the best 
 form is the form that works in each case, the form that 
 has proved itself both enduring and progressive, that 
 has grown under the influence of the special needs of 
 the people, and been gradually shaped to meet those 
 needs. In the first setting up of a State it would be 
 
 * Mill, in his work on Representative Government, maintains that 
 the system of Representative Government is more perfect than govern- 
 ment even by the most perfect human being, on account of the public 
 political sense developed under the former system. Government by 
 any individual, however perfect, must lead, he tells us, to " in3,ctivity 
 and decay." 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 585 
 
 very difficult to anticipate future possibilitiee, and to 
 declare that such and such a form is or is* not suitable 
 to, or best for, this people's requirements. Indeed, 
 whatever form is finally set up, is sure to be found want- 
 ing and to require modification in many respects, even 
 by the admixture of other and opposed forms. Above 
 all things, it would be rash to attempt to judge of the 
 best form for a particular people by a consideration of 
 the special character of that people, it being no easy 
 thing to formulate the character of a whole people, and 
 their character being itself to a large extent a result of 
 the particular kind of government to which they have 
 been subject. Aristotle made the attempt to assign 
 the forms of government most suited to each kind of 
 character,* but his attempt can hardly be regarded as 
 helpful in any way to the framers of constitutions. To 
 the first of the two questions mentioned, therefore, it is 
 hardly possible to return any other answer than that 
 which we have given, viz. that, in particular circum- 
 stances, that form of government will be most suitable 
 which has been found to work, that is, which has proved 
 to be effective and enduring, and to a certain degree 
 progressive also, in those circumstances. 
 
 Our second question, however, admits of a completer 
 and more definite answer. Put briefly, the question is 
 this — of all the standard forms of government, which 
 is the form that seems to fulfil the functions of govern- 
 ment best, so that, under average circumstances, and 
 assuming that the character and history of the people favour 
 all forms, equally, it could be predicted of it that it will 
 be most promising in good results ? That a strong 
 democratic element will be present in this best con- 
 stitution is certain from what we have already said. 
 It will be a democracy in at least the sense that the 
 legislature will be appointed by the whole people, and 
 the control of finance will be in their hands. There will 
 also be an aristocratic element, in thff sense that the 
 
 *■' Politics," III. 17, 4^ 
 
586 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 educated and wealthy and virtuous * (the social virtues 
 being of more importance than the private in this con- 
 nection) will be represented, either by special constitu- 
 tional provision or by force of circumstances. Thus, even 
 in America, the aristocracy (in this case an aristocracy 
 of wealth and education) is practically assured full 
 representation, at least in the Upper House, not indeed 
 by the constitution itself, but by the special economic 
 circumstances of the country and by the manner in 
 which elections take place to the Upper House, f In 
 England the aristocracy has its privileges from the 
 constitution. But in every community there must he 
 some means devised of giving to the greater monied, 
 and other prominent, interests in the country a proper 
 degree of representation. Any constitution in which 
 the upper, and even more particularly the great middle 
 class, are made completely subject, being allowed no 
 share in the control of public affairs, the whole control 
 being placed in the hands of the masses, is doomed to 
 failure from the beginning. As participants in sovereignty, 
 the masses are an enduring source of strength and a 
 guarantee of progress ; as sole rulers the masses are 
 wanting in balance, in skill, in capacity for continuous 
 effort, in devotion to duty, in faith to others and even 
 to themselves. " If," says Maine,! " the mass of man- 
 kind were to make an attempt at re-dividing the common 
 stock of good things, they would resemble not a number 
 of claimants insisting on a fair division of the funds, 
 but a mutinous crew feasting on a ship's provisions, 
 
 * Aristotle remarks, IV. 8, 3, that these three are generally found 
 together. We would, however, make the reservation, " except where 
 an aristocracy is given full and complete sovereignty, the populace 
 being completely subject to them." In that case even the social 
 virtues may not be accompaniments of riches and power. Aristotle 
 adds (IV. 8, 9) that gentle birth is generally accompanied by wealth 
 and virtue, " good birth being only ancient wealth and virtue." 
 
 t This guarantee was until recently more reliable than it is at 
 present. Until recently, the State Legislatures appointed to the 
 Senate ; at present the people themselves appoint the representatives 
 in the Senate. 
 
 t " Popular Government," p. 45 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 587 
 
 gorging themselves on the meat and intoxicating them- 
 selves with the liquors, but refusing to "navigate the 
 vessel to port." As subjects and as part-rulers it is 
 the splendid virtues of the masses that come most into 
 prominence ; as sole rulers their vices and shortcomings 
 become effective competitors with their virtues, to the 
 great detriment of the rest of the body politic and of 
 themselves. But as we have said, and on this point we 
 wish to lay most special emphasis, it is not to the masses 
 or to the higher aristocracy, but to what we might call 
 the lower aristocracy, the great middle classes, that we 
 must chiefly look for the greater ruling qualities — ^for 
 stability and sound judgment, for sensibility in the 
 domain of justice, for that exact balance of the two 
 ideals of conservatism and progress, which, from all 
 ages, are the chief acknowledged conditions of successful 
 rule. Aristotle's well-known commendation, " great is 
 the good fortune of a State in which the (majority of 
 the) citizens have a moderate and sufficient property," 
 is as true of peoples and polities now as in his own far- 
 distant age. It is through the great middle class (the 
 class intermediate between the very wealthy and the 
 poor), controlling as it does the chief departments of 
 politics, that America has proved itself a sound and 
 stable government, in spite of the facilities offered by 
 the constitution for rapid and revolutionary changes. 
 It is the great middle class in England that has success- 
 fully enabled England to survive all the disintegrating 
 movements of the last hundred years, for, whilst aiding 
 progress in every way, and identifying itself with the 
 poor in the execution of every reasonable purpose, it 
 has never hesitated to throw in its lot with the upper 
 classes as against popular clamour and unrest, where 
 revolution or insecurity seemed likely consequences of 
 the popular programme. 
 
 There remains the question of the monarchical ele- 
 ment. Should the State possess this element also, for 
 the realisation of the best results ? Naturally, although 
 
588 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a presidency might fulfil the technical requirements of 
 monarchy as defined by Aristotle, we shall in our present 
 enquiry confine our attention to one kind of monarchy 
 only, viz. hereditary monarchy, this being the only 
 kind that can be contrasted with the conception of 
 popular control. Our present enquiry, therefore, re- 
 duces itself to a comparison of what are properly spoken 
 of as republics, like those of America and France, and 
 constitutional monarchies, like those of England, Italy, 
 and Belgium. But the sense of the question must not 
 be misunderstood. The question is not whether America 
 would be better off under a monarchical, or England 
 under a republican government, but which of the two, 
 the hereditary monarchy, or the elected temporary 
 presidency, is the more suitable, generalty speaking, for 
 attaining the proper end of government, namely, the true 
 and permanent good of the whole community, and which 
 of them, in aiming at this end, is subject to the smaller 
 number of defects. Here we have no difficulty in placing 
 the balance of advantage with the hereditary monarchy.* 
 The hereditary monarchy may bring in its train certain 
 social evils which are absent in the presidency. With 
 these social evils we have, here nothing to do. What 
 we do claim is that the constitutional monarchy is better 
 fitted as an instrument for attaining to the proper ends 
 of government than the presidential republic. And our 
 reasons are the following : — 
 
 (i) Under the hereditary monarchy there are no 
 breaks in government, such as occur on the occasion of 
 an election to the presidential chair, and it is those 
 breaks in government that are chiefly availed of by 
 revolutionaries and malcontents for spreading dis- 
 content and inciting the mob to rebellion against the 
 constitution. 
 
 (2) An hereditary monarchy offers a better and surer 
 
 * This, as we said, does not mean that America would be better 
 off tinder a kingship. Such a form of government might not suit th? 
 cjrcvipistances of America. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 589 
 
 guarantee of continuity of policy,* particularly in regard 
 to foreign affairs, than government under '-a president ; 
 and without a tolerable degree of continuity of policy 
 it is impossible for any State to enter into permanent 
 agreements with other States or to enjoy their confidence. 
 (3) The rule of the hereditary monarch is likely to be 
 more disinterested and impartial than that of the 
 president. The monarch is above all party interest. 
 By pursuing any particular course he can gain neither 
 in position nor in influence, since by his birth he has 
 all that is obtainable in the State. The monarch can, 
 therefore, act, as no other ruler can, unmoved by any 
 kind of current faction. Compare this mark of the 
 monarchy in England with the temptations inseparable 
 from the position of president in America. "In a 
 country," writes Bryce,| " where there is no hereditary 
 throne nor hereditary aristocracy an office raised far 
 above all other offices offers too great a stimulus to 
 ambition. This glittering prize always dangling before 
 the eyes of prominent statesmen has a power stronger 
 than any dignity under a European crown to allure 
 them (as it allured Clay and Webster) from the path of 
 straightforward consistency. One who aims at the 
 presidency, and all prominent politicians do aim at it, 
 has the strongest possible motives to avoid making 
 enemies. Now a great statesman ought to be prepared 
 to make enemies. It is one thing to try to be popular 
 — an unpopular man will never be influential — it is 
 another to seek popularity by courting every section of 
 your party. This is the temptation of presidential 
 aspirants." t 
 
 * We may be allowed to point out here that the guarantee of 
 continuity in foreign policy given under the American system is far 
 from ideal. It consists in the fact that in America all treaties have to 
 be ratified by the Senate, and the Senate is a continuous body, only one 
 third retiring at a time, every two years. 
 
 ■f " American Commonwealth." 
 
 J In America the fact that the President is re-eligible (in practice) 
 only once, operates unfavourably on the President. During hi^ first 
 term of office he will, in order to secure re-election, pander to all the 
 
590 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 (4) It is only through the rule of one who is above all 
 party interest that the people can retain their hold on 
 legislation. The majority in every legislature has its 
 own proper interests and ambitions, interests often 
 distinct from those of the people whom it represents. 
 And, even where the two sets of interests are identical, 
 the representatives of the people may mistake the mind 
 of the people, or act without due consideration for their 
 opinions. In either case it is only one who is above all 
 party interest,* one who has nothing to gain or lose by 
 the incidents of politics, who can be trusted to delay 
 the proposed measure until the populace can have an 
 opportunity of pronouncing upon it. Constitutional 
 monarchy, therefore, is the best guarantee a people 
 can have of their continued effective control over parlia- 
 ment, and, in a country like England, over government 
 also. We may add also that in a constitutional monarchy 
 the permanent interests of the people are likely to receive 
 very special consideration over and above their passing 
 superficial interests. In regard to both, the people may 
 be mistaken, and where passion runs high the per- 
 manent interests are often little heeded. It is the 
 monarch, who will still be present, bearing the brunt of 
 office, when present deputies and ministers have passed 
 away, who has most reason for seeing that the per- 
 manent and substantial interests of the people shall 
 not be sacrificed to what is only of temporary and super- 
 ficial importance, and, therefore, it is to the hereditary 
 monarch that we may most confidently look for pro- 
 tection of the popular interests, not only against be- 
 trayal by the popular representatives, but against error 
 and impetuosity on the part of the people themselves. 
 
 (5) The monarch enjoys a personal influence in politics 
 not possible in the case of the president, a personal 
 
 active sections of his party, whilst during the second term he will 
 run no risks to his reputation, even for the sake of the public, seeing 
 that his own political death is assured and near. 
 
 * Presidents are always party men, being elected by party vote 
 and dependent for re-election on the good-will of the stronger party. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 591 
 
 influence ' which is mainly based upon th^e monarch's 
 independence of parties and his superiority to party 
 intrigue. It is for this reason that the intervention of 
 the monarch in the various difficulties and impasses to 
 which States are subject is so often attended with 
 fortunate and far-reaching results. We may mention 
 three instances. First, in the case of inter-party dead- 
 lock, the king is always a welcome mediator, and for 
 the simple reason that he is above all party. Secondly, 
 in the case of inter-cameral deadlock (and in England 
 until recently such deadlock was possible as it is still 
 possible in most other countries) the point at issue is 
 generally a point of party interest, and again it is the 
 king who will make the most successful mediator. 
 Thirdly, even where international difficulties arise, the 
 efforts of the monarch at reconciliation are more likely 
 to prove successful than the efforts of minister or cabinet, 
 not only on account of the prestige attaching to the 
 position of the monarch and his personal relationships 
 with other rulers, but also because he is supposed to be 
 less keen upon immediate advantages and triumphs 
 than cabinets are. In the relations of kings the human 
 element and, therefore, the element of generosity and 
 of compromise can always operate to some extent. As 
 between cabinets and chancellories the human element 
 simply does not exist. It is of cabinets and not so much 
 of kings that Hobbes' description of sovereigns is true — 
 that they are ever in a state of potential warfare, " their 
 weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another."* 
 For this reason it is kings rather than presidents that 
 can best exercise a modifying influence in the relations 
 of States to one another. 
 
 * The social influences as well as the defects of monarchy will be 
 found described in Bagehot's beautiful little work, " The English 
 Constitution." A monarch's social influence, we maintain, should 
 not be regarded as constituting, though it may indirectly contribute 
 to, political efficiency. The mere fact that " the women, more than 
 half of the human race, care more for a (royal) marriage, than for an 
 (efiective) ministry " could scarcely be cited as a reason for choosing 
 a monarchy as form of government rather than a presidency. 
 
592 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 The Prerogative of the English Monarch in Regard 
 TO His Ministers 
 
 Before leaving the present subject it will be necessary to 
 consider an objection which probably has aheady occurred 
 to the reader, based on the apparently very limited powers 
 of government enjoyed by the monarch in England. In 
 the latter part of the preceding discussion we seemed to 
 take it for granted that the powers of the Enghsh monarch 
 are large and substantial. But are they really large and 
 substantial ? It is said that the monarch is without discre- 
 tion ; that by law he has to accept the judgment of his 
 ministers, make that judgment his own, and rule in ac- 
 cordance with it ; that for this reason he reigns but does 
 not govern ; that he is but as the hand on the face of the 
 clock, the moving powers being aU within ; that his ministers 
 are not his " ministers " but his " masters " ; that his chief 
 function is to give dignity and splendour to government, to 
 elevate ministerial enactments into royal decrees, but not 
 to govern, or to shape or frame these enactments or decrees. 
 A cabinet it is said could not wear a crown. A mere corpora- 
 tion could not be anointed. The king wears a crown and 
 is anointed. Whilst, therefore, the sacredness and splendour 
 are all from the king, the dry work of government rests with 
 what is especially called the king's government, that is, 
 his ministers in the cabinet. " A crowned Republic," is 
 how Tennyson describes the English monarchy. In England, 
 says Seeley,* you have the " unbounded power of a ministerial 
 Cabinet combined with the nominal maintenance of Royalty." 
 And Sidgwick writes : f "West European Constitutional 
 Monarchy is not, paradoxical as it may seem, essentially 
 monarchical in the ordinary sense, i.e. a permanent hereditary 
 king is not essential to it. In many cases — I do not say in 
 all — if the functions performed by the hereditary monarch 
 were transferred to a president elected for a term of years, . 
 the difference resulting would certainly not be so funda- 
 mental as to lead us to regard it as an essentially different 
 form of government." From all these assertions and com- 
 parisons it will readily be understood how widespread and 
 how firm is the opinion that the monarch in England has 
 no important functions to perform, none that could not be 
 
 • " Introduction to Political Science," p. 229. 
 t " Development of European Polity," p. 393. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 593 
 
 as well left to the cabinet and none that the cabinet is not 
 now in reality performing, and it is in ord^ to show how 
 untrue and unfounded that view is that we have written 
 this Appendix. 
 
 But before setting out our own opinion, we wish to point 
 out to the reader who may not be quite clear on the exact 
 point at issue and who may have been somewhat misled by 
 the passage which we have quoted from Prof. Sidgwick, 
 that our discussion here is not in the nature of a comparison 
 between the position of the monarch in England and that of 
 the president, say, of France or America, b^it is an enquiry 
 into the relation of the monarch to his cabinet. The very 
 same question that is here asked about the monarch of 
 England, could be raised also in regard to the president of 
 France. If the English monarch is left no functions to 
 perform, neither is the president of France, for both act 
 through their ministers and on the advice of ministers. We 
 are not, therefore, enquiring about the respective merits of 
 the English Monarchy and the French Presidency (that 
 comparison was made in the preceding chapter) or whether 
 it would make much difference if a president were sub- 
 stituted for the English king ; our question is whether the 
 monarch in England has specific functions to perform 
 distinct from those of the cabinet, whether he has a specific 
 and important part to play in the direction and government 
 of the country,* and whether, therefore, it would make any 
 real difference in England if the monarchy were abolished 
 and the government of the country were placed exclusively 
 in the hands of the cabinet. 
 
 Now, before proceeding to answer this question, certain 
 distinctions have to be made. We must distinguish, first, 
 the moral and the legal powers or functions of the monarch. 
 By the moral power of the sovereign is meant the influence 
 which he is able to exert on others, either because of his 
 great position or his personal character and attractions, or 
 generally because of the esteem with which he is regarded 
 in private and public life. The legal powers of the monarch 
 are those which are conferred on him by the public f law 
 and can be enforced by the ordinary legal sanctions. Needless 
 to say we have here nothing to do with the moral powers 
 of the monarch ; our discussion relates to his legal power 
 and functions only. 
 
 * Of the social influence of the monarch we have here nothing to 
 say. 
 
 t Not necessarily by special statute ; some of these legal powers 
 are conferred by the law of custom. 
 
 VOL. n — 38 
 
594 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Secondly, we must distinguish between those legal powers 
 which are nominal and technical only, and those which are 
 actual, i.e. on the one hand, those powers which were once 
 conferred by law, which have never been formally abrogated 
 by any Act of Parliament, but which are supposed to have 
 lapsed from want of use and as violating the present habit 
 and spirit of the constitution : * and, on the other hand, 
 those powers which neither have been abrogated nor have 
 lapsed from want of use, and the exercise of which is still 
 the strictly legal right of the monarch. •]■ 
 
 Of course, in the present work we are dealing with the 
 second class of powers only — the actual and real powers 
 possessed by the monarch, not his lapsed powers ; but a 
 few words as regards the latter class of powers will not be 
 out of place at this point. It is quite evident that there 
 are powers nominally attaching to the monarchy which 
 have never been formally abrogated by law, but the exercise 
 of which is quite impossible, and which, if acted upon, 
 would cause general surprise and resentment, and te re- 
 pudiated by the body politic as opposed to the present habit 
 and spirit of the constitution. For instance, the body politic 
 would never tolerate a renewal of the monarch's ancient 
 right to dismiss his ministry out of mere wantonness or 
 because they displeased him, or in order to elevate a favourite 
 to the rank of Prime Minister. But it is exceedingly difficult 
 to know in certain cases what powers of the monarch have 
 really lapsed from want of use and what remain in spite of 
 being unused. A power might remain unused because there 
 was no need for its exercise, but with the re-appearance of 
 the need its renewed exercise might even be regarded by 
 the nation not only as a right but as a duty. There are ' 
 unused powers that, if exercised under normal circumstances, 
 would shock the political sense of the people, but the exer- 
 cise of which under abnormal circumstances, or in times of 
 crisis, might be regarded even as imperative. There are 
 
 * As a rule it is only those powers which seem to oppose the habit 
 and spirit of the working constitution that lapse from want of uss. 
 And it is to be remembered that the habit and spirit of the constitu 
 tion may change very rapidly at certain periods. The renewed exer- 
 cise of the king's right to attend the meetings of his cabinet would 
 have been opposed to the altered relations that had sprung up between 
 cabinet and king, even a few years after George I. had ceased to attend 
 those meetings 
 
 t The reader may object to our speaking of the former class of 
 powers as powers at all whether technical or not. But the distinction 
 is at all events intelligible and it will be useful for the proper under- 
 standing of the remarks to follow. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 595 
 
 powers long unused by the monarch which able lawyers and 
 leaders of parties considered to have been iirevocably lost 
 to him, but which, nevertheless, the monarch has, on certain 
 occasions, been able to vindicate as still a part of his living 
 prerogative, simply by acting on the supposition that they 
 still remained. Many Unionist spokesmen maintained on 
 the occasion of the abrogation of the Lord's veto that the 
 monarch had lost the right of creating peers for the purpose 
 of overcoming the obstinacy of the Lords ; but the monarch 
 effectively reduced them to silence by exercising the right, 
 or rather by threatening to exercise it if the opposition of 
 the Lords to the Veto Bill were found to continue. Such 
 is the character of the constitution, depending, as it does, as 
 much on precedent and custom as on formal statute, that 
 one part of the prerogative may be abrogated by disuse, 
 and another part may not ; nor does it seem that there is 
 any general rule by which the two classes of cases can be 
 distinguished before a crisis arises except this — ^that a power, 
 the renewed exercise of which would be a violation of the 
 existing habit and spirit of the constitution is abrogated 
 by disuse, but a power which is not obviously out of harmony 
 with that habit and spirit, and which still subserves some 
 useful constitutional purpose, even though in abnormal cir- 
 cumstances only, may still survive for a very long period 
 after it has ceased to be actually exercised.* 
 
 These distinctions being made, we may briefly refer to 
 the content of the king's actual prerogative. The monarch's 
 prerogative may be examined under the following three 
 headings : — 
 
 (i) The king's discretion in appointing the ministers of 
 government. 
 
 (?) The power of the monarch in directing and influencing 
 the work of legislation and administration. 
 
 (3) The right of the king to dismiss his ministers and to 
 dissolve parliament. 
 
 (i) The king does not enjoy that absolute discretion in 
 the appointment of his ministers that was his in 1688. 
 At that time, and up to the year 1834, the king's right of 
 choosing his ministers was unlimited and unconditioned. 
 But in 1834 it was made clear to him that though he still 
 retained the right of appointing his ministers, those ministers 
 had to meet with the approval of parliament if government 
 
 * On this whole question we recommend the reader to consult 
 Freeman, "Growth of the English Constitution," pp. 118-119; and 
 Todd, " British Government in the Colonies," chapter i ' 
 
596 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 was to receive the support {i.e. the financial support) of 
 parliament.* That also is the system which now obtains. 
 Under present circumstances the monarch normally is left very 
 little, if any, discretion in the choice of the Prime Minister. 
 After an election the leader of the victorious party stands 
 out before the whole country as the chosen of the people, 
 and, therefore, almost automatically succeeds to the head- 
 ship of His Majesty's government. But circumstances 
 sometimes occur in which the monarch's right in this respect 
 may become real and operative. " The leader of the 
 (victorious) party," writes Anson, f " may not be obvious 
 and paramount. Such was the case in 1859 when Queen 
 Victoria, doubting if either Lord Palmerston or Lord John 
 Russell would consent to serve under the other, asked Lord 
 Granville to make an attempt. ... So again in 1894 when 
 Mr. Gladstone retired, the Queen did not consult him on 
 the choice of a successor but invited Lord Rosebery to 
 become Prime Minister." Another case in which the 
 monarch's discretion may become real and operative arises 
 when party lines, as Anson says, become "for a time in- 
 definite. They were so after the break up of the Conserva- 
 tives in 1846, and when the Coalition Government of Whigs 
 and Peelites' was formed by Lord Aberdeen in 1852." Also 
 if, as now seems likely, the dual party should disappear in 
 England, owing to the formation of a third party as numerous 
 as either of the other two, the monarch's discretion in the 
 choice of his minister may then become as settled and ordinary 
 a part of his prerogative as the discretion now ordinarily 
 exercised by the president of the French Republic. 
 
 (2) The king has a legal right to be consulted on all 
 matters of legislation and government. In the sphere of 
 legislation he may refuse his consent to a measure passed 
 even by both Houses. Resistance to the will of Parliament 
 may often be both inexpedient and dangerous, but 'the 
 fact remains, that legally and formally, the consent of tjie 
 monarch is required for every measure, and if the monarch 
 should on any occasion prepare to run the gauntlet and to 
 set his face against a measure passed by the two Houses, 
 
 * The support of parliament was, of course, necessary even before 
 1834. But before that year a minister was assured of receiving that 
 support simply because he was minister. It was in 1834 that parlia- 
 ment first insisted that the policy of the minister should be antecedently 
 pleasing to parliament before support could be ensured. See most 
 interesting passage in Seeley, " Introduction to Political Science," 
 pp. 284 and following. 
 
 t " Law of the Constitution," vol. II part i, 39. 
 
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 597 
 
 the government in that case will have either to withdraw 
 its proposal or resign. It would, indeed, be foolish to under- 
 estimate the seriousness and importance of rhia great out- 
 standing fact. Legal power is legal power, however careful 
 and reserved one must be in the use of it. It is this power 
 which gives to the monarch his right to be heard on all 
 legislation. A monarch will not often oppose a measure 
 likely to meet with the approval of the two Houses. He 
 will, in practically all cases, accept the advice tendered by 
 his ministers, but he has a right to endeavour to shape and 
 modify that advice before it is finally tendered to him. A 
 monarch cannot be treated by the minister as if consulting 
 him were only a matter of form or a compliment to the 
 monarch's distinguished position ; the monarch has a legal 
 right to be heard, a right based upon his power of veto, and 
 it is this right which gives him his great weight of influence 
 even in cases in which the actual exercise of the veto would 
 be out of the question. But, as we have said, there are 
 occasions where the king may oppose the advice tendered 
 him and actually interpose his veto ; but in that case he 
 must be prepared to face the risks and the possibilities to 
 be described in a succeeding paragraph.* 
 
 And what we have said of legislation is true also of ad- 
 ministration. The monarch's right of resistance is a great 
 reserve of power and has to be used most sparingly and 
 with the utmost discretion. ' But, such as it is, it places him 
 in a very strong position in his dealings with his ministers. 
 The sovereign does not take independent action in regard 
 either to home or foreign affairs, but he has a right to be 
 heard in regard to both. In foreign policy particularly 
 he is most careful to be consulted on every matter, and 
 particularly to be informed in regard to all communications 
 with foreign powers. f 
 
 (3) We have said that it is only in very extreme cases that 
 the monarch would attempt finally and formally to reject 
 the advice of his ministers. As these extreme cases are 
 generally cases in which important matters of policy are 
 involved, resistance on the part of the monarch may generally 
 be regarded as involving the resignation of the ministry 
 and the subsequent dissolution of parliament. J The king 
 
 * p. 598- 
 
 t See Anson, II. I. 43. 
 
 } The king after the resignation of the ministry must find a new 
 minister to intervene in dissolving parliament. He could not dissolve 
 parliament from himself. 
 
598 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 can even dismiss his ministers if they refuse to resign, and 
 thus can force an appeal to the country. 
 
 The king cannot dismiss a ministry for any mere private 
 end. He can dismiss it only on the supposition that the 
 ministry does not enjoy the confidence of the House, or that 
 the House in supporting the ministry does not represent 
 the mind and feeling of the nation. The will of the people, 
 it is, that must finally and in all cases prevail. Let the 
 House represent the nation, and let the ministry enjoy 
 the confidence of the House, and then the monarch's hands 
 are tied. Let either link be wanting and then the monarch's 
 prerogative comes into play. If the king dismisses a ministry 
 enjoying the confidence of the House, which again, as the 
 result of the ensuing election shows, represents the will of 
 the people, the king has violated the constitution and will 
 be held responsible by the people. 
 
 Not lightly, therefore, but with extreme caution, would a 
 sensible monarch attempt to use his prerogative of dismissing 
 or forcing a resignation of the ministry. In a letter to Lord 
 John Russell, who suggested a dissolution in 1846, Queen 
 Victoria speaks of the power of dissolving parliament as 
 " a most valuable and powerful instrument in the hands of 
 the Crown, but one which ought not to be used except in 
 extreme cases and with a certainty of success. To use this 
 instrument and be defeated is a thing most lowering to the 
 Crown and hurtful to the country." But granted a certainty 
 of success the right of the monarchy to dismiss the ministry 
 is a right which may be exercised without fear of the results, 
 and its successful exercise only serves to enhance the monarchy 
 in the eyes of the people, and to elucidate and confirm Ihe 
 apparent paradox that the principal safeguard of the popular 
 liberties, as against parliament and government, is to be 
 found, not in the rule of the people themselves or of their 
 representatives, but in the rule of one socially furthest re- 
 moved from the masses, and independent of them in the 
 title by which he succeeds to the position of ruler.* 
 
 * For an interesting discussion on the relation of the English 
 monarch to his ministers see Sheldon Amos, " Fifty Years of the 
 English Constitution," ch. Ill, sec. II. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE STATE— THE FUNCTIONS OF 
 SOVEREIGNTY 
 
 The functions or powers of sovereignty generally 
 enumerated are three — legislation, government and 
 judgment. Laws have to be made, laws have to be 
 executed, i.e. the country has to be governed in ac- 
 cordance with the laws, decisions in justice have to be 
 rendered in accordance with the laws.* 
 
 Let us consider these three functions of sovereignty 
 separately. 
 
 Legislation 
 Relation of civil to natural law. 
 
 Civil or State law, as already explained, is related to 
 natural law in a two-fold way. Some State laws are 
 nothing more than promulgations, confirmations, and 
 enforcements of the natural law. For instance, the 
 natural laws of justice are accepted in every State. 
 Now these laws might not be known to the people unless 
 they were promulgated by the State; they might be 
 held in very small account unless they were adopted 
 and confirmed by the State ; they might be violated 
 
 * Aristotle distinguishes three functions : deliberation (tA /Sou- 
 Xeud/jevoK irepl rCiv KoivQiv), government (r6 Tepl tcis dpxiis)i judgment 
 (tJ Smi^ov). The enumeration is not quite the same as that given 
 in the text, it is rather an enumeration of the powers of govern- 
 ment, as actually divided and allotted at Athens in Aristotle's 
 time, than an enumeration of powers distinct in their very conception. 
 Thus under deliberation Aristotle includes not only law-making but 
 also all the other matters assigned to the deliberative body — the 
 citizens at large at Athens, viz. war, treaties, the inflicting of death, 
 exile, confiscation, the auditing of the magistrates' accounts. Many 
 of these are really executive functions. 
 
 599 
 
6oo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 freely and with impunity unless they were enforced by 
 the State. The State, therefore, makes the natural 
 laws of justice its own. The function of other State 
 laws is to fill in and make concrete and determifted the 
 general or abstract requirements of natural law (de- 
 terminans indeterminata a lege naturae), and these laws 
 are known as civil or State laws proper. Thus the 
 natural law binds men to the support of the State, 
 decrees that some form of government be adopted, 
 calls for the punishment of crime, etc. ; but it is left to 
 the civil power to determine how the State is to be 
 supported (whether by taxation or by voluntary con- 
 tribution, whether by direct or indirect taxes), what 
 form of government is to be established (whether 
 monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic), and what the 
 punishment to be fixed to each crime. All civil or State 
 law consists in the acceptance or application of natural 
 law in one or other of these ways, and, therefore, all 
 civil law is to be regarded as based on, and as sharing 
 in the sanctity of natural law. 
 
 The organ of legislation. 
 
 Our chief interest here lies in the organs of legislation 
 provided in the case of democracies. In ancient Athens 
 as also in some of the modern cantons of Switzerland, 
 as we have seen, the laws were made directly by the 
 people themselves. In all the larger democratic States 
 (even those that have in them an admixture of royalty) 
 the laws are made by parliament, i.e. bodies of men to 
 a very large extent elected by the people and repre- 
 senting the people.* We say, " to a very large extent," 
 because in many countries there is, besides the repre- 
 sentative and elected element, another element also in 
 parliament, consisting of men not elected and not repre- 
 sentative of the people, but holding their position either 
 by special appointment by the monarch * or hereditarily 
 
 * As in Italy. 
 
THE STATE 6oi 
 
 and because of their rank in society.* This non-elected 
 element usually belongs to the Upper House of Parlia- 
 ment, not to the Lower House — a distinction of which 
 we shall say something presently ; but since in most 
 democratic countries the position of the Upper House 
 is subordinate to that of the Lower, f so, it is the elected 
 representatives of the people that in most countries 
 exercise the chief influence and control over legislation. 
 
 We said that laws in democratic countries are made 
 by parliaments. As a matter of fact, the head of the 
 governmental or executive department is also in most 
 countries given a certain degree of control over legis- 
 lation, but in nearly all cases, machinery is provided 
 whereby the opposition of the head of the government 
 can finally be overcome, so that in the end it is parlia- 
 ment that exercises complete control. In England, 
 for instance, the king is given a veto on legislation, 
 but that right of veto he would hardly dare to exercise 
 in opposition to both Houses of Parliament, or against 
 the Lower House if elected on the particular issue in 
 question. In America the president has a veto, but a 
 two-thirds majority in parliament can always prevail 
 over his veto. In France, the president has no veto, 
 he can merely return a measure passed by the two 
 Houses, for reconsideration. In the end, therefore, it 
 is found that legislation is a function of parliament 
 mainly, and in parliament the chief control belongs, 
 in nearly all cases, to the elected element or House of 
 Representatives. J: 
 
 The party system. 
 For the most part, parliaments are worked according 
 ■to the party system. Looked at in the abstract there 
 
 * As in England. In Italy also many of the members of the Upper 
 House succeed by inheritance and rank. 
 
 t In Germany, in which the monarchical and aristocratic element 
 is much more prominent than the democratic, the Upper House is 
 very much stronger. 
 
 } Where the Upper House is elected it has nearly equal control 
 over legislation with the Lower, e.g. America and Switzerland. 
 
6o2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 is really no reason why there should be parties at all. 
 It should clearly be possible for each member of parlia- 
 ment to record his own opinion, independently of others 
 and without combination with others, in connection with 
 each measure as it arises. Indeed, it would seem that 
 where the party system prevails the true conditions of 
 popular government can hardly ever be realised ; first, 
 as Rousseau tells us, because party compromises prevent 
 the people from expressing their true will (the general 
 will) in the election of their representatives ; * and, 
 secondly, because these representatives when sent to 
 parliament seem to be more intent on supporting one 
 another than on carrying out the wishes of the people 
 whom they represent. 
 
 But as a matter of fact the party system is necessary 
 and unavoidable, and will be found not to be without 
 its uses. As long as men are men they will combine 
 to carry out certain projects, and as long as there is 
 combination there will be compromise ; there will be 
 men who in order to achieve the things in which they 
 are much interested, the larger and more important 
 projects, are prepared to sink their differences on minor 
 points, and it is such combinations as these that are 
 known as parties. Moreover, as we said, parties are 
 not without their uses. Indeed, parliamentary parties 
 are more than useful ; they are even necessary and for 
 the following reasons : first, in order that parliament 
 may reflect the mind and attitude of the people it repre- 
 sents. It is a mistake to think that parties are a creation 
 of parliament alone. The people also, independently of 
 parliament, are divided into parties, for the people also 
 have their larger or more important as well as their 
 minor interests, and the latter they are prepared to 
 sacrifice in deference to the former where the successful 
 attainment of the greater interest requires sacrifice of a 
 
 * Rousseau is in reality opposed to the whole ' representative 
 system. He maintains that the people cannot alienate their legis- 
 lative sovereignty and place it in the hands of representatives 
 
THE STATE 603 
 
 smaller, and combination with others on this basis of 
 sacrifice. Indeed, for the work of parliaiftent there is 
 need amongst the people of a certain amount of party 
 combination and of give and take of the kind described. 
 No progressive programme could ever be carried through 
 unless behind parliament there was a " solid mass of 
 steady votes " urging a particular policy, and, for the 
 continuance of such support and such pressure on the 
 part of the electorate, some kind of party organisation 
 amongst the people is required. 
 
 Secondly, parliamentary parties are necessary for the 
 expeditious fulfilment of parliamentary business. It 
 would lead to too much confusion and waste of time if 
 every man were to indulge his own fads and bring for- 
 ward on any occasion in parliament any measure that 
 occurred to him as of public utility. Most of such 
 proposals would be sure to be rejected, and the time of 
 parliament would be taken up with the negative work of 
 their rejection. 
 
 Thirdly, without the party system there would be 
 no order or system or consistency in legislation. As 
 made up of single unrelated units, a body of six or seven 
 hundred members of parliament is nothing more than 
 a disorganised mob, speaking with a Babel of voices 
 and representing a wilderness of divergent opinions. 
 Under the party system the same body becomes an 
 organised whole, or is divided into two or more organised 
 wholes, each representing a certain unity of view and a 
 certain tradition. Thus, as each party or combination 
 of parties comes into power, a definite and consistent 
 line of legislation begins to be followed, and is pursued 
 during such a period as allows of the accomplishment of 
 some definite and connected legislative programme. 
 
 It is important also to remember that, whereas without 
 parties the work of legislation is unduly retarded, much 
 useful legislation excluded altogether, and unity and 
 consistency in legislation rendered impossible, on the 
 other hand, the greater the number of opposing parties 
 
6o4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the less expeditious will the work of parliament become, 
 and the less unified and harmonious will be the legisla- 
 tion actually carried. For, the greater the number of 
 parties the more time will be wasted in the rejection of 
 useless or unsupported measures, and the greater the 
 number of new departures in the work of parliament as 
 successive elections return different parties to power. 
 Hence, although the complete abandonment of the party 
 system is neither possible nor desirable, it is obvious 
 that the more men aim at expedition and at some kind 
 of " consonance with diversity " in the work of legisla- 
 tion, the more will the different parties tend, if not to 
 disappear, at least to coalesce, the final result being a 
 tendency to a dualism of parties with sub-parties under, 
 or connected with them, all looking for as much as they 
 can secure of their own particular programme, and all 
 prepared, in order sooner or later to secure these ends, 
 to submit to the direction of one of the two great party 
 leaders. 
 
 The dual-party system. 
 
 Certain disadvantages at once suggest themselves in 
 connection with this system, which are for the most part only 
 the general difficulties already mentioned, but enlarged and 
 intensified by the greater decisiveness of party under the 
 dual system. In the first place, this system is an attempt to 
 " squeeze a great many varieties of opinion into two rather 
 rough moulds," and often it is hard to se - that the moulds 
 can really bear all that is pressed into them. Party 
 coalescence is often exceedingly violent and artificial, and 
 the result can hardly be such as makes for healthy, and free 
 development in the political life of the people. Secondly, • 
 where there are only two parties, the strife of parlies is 
 liable to be exceedingly bitter on account of the immensity 
 of the differences in their respective programmes. Thirdly, 
 the dual system leads to the avoidance of much good legis- 
 lation. No individual group would dare even to propose 
 a measure of any importa-nce if by any chance it might lead 
 to disruption of his particular party. Fourthly, in pretending 
 to swallow the whole programme of the party, with much 
 of which the individual must necessarily be in disagreement. 
 
THE STATE 605 
 
 members of parliament degrade themselves and are untrue 
 to what they conceive to represent the real interests of the 
 community. Fifthly, where the heads of the Executive are 
 chosen from the members of parliament, as is the case in 
 England, the government will naturally be representative 
 of one party only,* and many eminently suitable men will 
 be excluded from position simply because of the party 
 opinions which they profess. Lastly, under this system the 
 body of opinions held by a particular party at a particular 
 period becomes so stereotyped that departure from any 
 portion of it is rendered well-nigh impossible, even though 
 that portion is no longer really a necessary portion of the 
 party creed. It is certain, for instance, that many Con- 
 servative members, feeling little or no antipathy to home- 
 rule for Ireland, are compelled to oppose it for the sake 
 of maintaining the party tradition. 
 
 The advantages of the dual system are also the advantages 
 of the party system generally, but again improved and in- 
 tensified. JFirst, although, as we have said, under this 
 system a great variety of opinions are squeezed into two 
 rather rough moulds, it is just these large rough moulds 
 that represent most truly the " simple and massive views 
 which Englishmen are accustomed to take in Politics," and 
 in the formation of which the ordinary Englishman is not 
 meticulous as to harmony or consistency ; moreover, these 
 moulds are not so rough as would at first sight appear, for 
 under the dual system the party is, normally speaking, 
 regulated according to some general underlying policy or 
 principle which lends to the party programme a certain 
 degree of consistency and unity, one part of the programme 
 being a necessary accompaniment of another, or a logical 
 development out of it. Who will deny that the various 
 measures advocated by Liberals in England during the last 
 fifty years represent a fairly consistent programme, or main- 
 tain that the Conservatives in opposing these measures 
 have not also been largely consistent with themselves ? 
 Secondly, under the dual system, parliamentary criticism is 
 bound to be persistent and keen, whilst, on the other hand, 
 its criticism will hardly be irrational : an Opposition is 
 hardly Hkely to indulge in useless attack on an obviously 
 good and necessary measure, seeing that they may them- 
 selves later be compelled by force of circumstances to have 
 recourse to a similar measure to that now advocated by the 
 
 * In Switzerland nearly all parties are represented in the Executive 
 — the Federal Council. 
 
6o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 ruling party. Thirdly, under the dual system, at least where 
 parliamentary government obtains,* there is nearly always 
 one outstanding man who succeeds almost automatically 
 to the office of Prime Minister, viz. the leader of the party 
 returned to power, and thus this great office comes to be 
 filled almost directly by the people themselves at each elec- 
 tion. On the other hand, where many parties exist, the 
 selection of the Prime Minister devolves on the head of the 
 Executive,! thus lessening the people's prerogative and 
 control over the policy of the government, and at the same 
 time imposing on the head of the Executive, i.e. the king 
 or the president, a task which is bound at times to become 
 not only difficult but most invidious. Fourthly, under the 
 dual system, the Cabinet is bound to be a more or less con- 
 sistent whole and can act with all the force and decision 
 that such unity and consistency afford. A many-coloured 
 or coalition government, such as must obtain where there 
 are many parties, is always weak and ineffective, and except 
 in abnormal circumstances is inferior in every way to the 
 single-party Cabinet. One feature of this greater efficacy 
 of government under the dual party system is the high degree 
 of stability which the conditions of the dual system make 
 possible in government. A heterogeneous government is 
 always unstable, and its instability is bound to communicate 
 itself to, and reflect itself in, many departments of the life 
 of the community other than the purely political de- 
 partments.! 
 
 The two-chamber system of legislation. 
 
 In most § democratic countries the legislative organ 
 consists of two chambers, an upper and a lower, whose 
 joint consent is normally required for the passing of 
 legislation. The primary end of this system, the end 
 which is common to every legislative system formed 
 on this model, is the opportunity which it affords for 
 revision of legislation by a new body either representing 
 the people in a new way, as in America and France, or 
 
 * See p. 596. 
 
 t In France it devolves on the president. 
 
 i For an able dissertation condemnatory of the party system, 
 and particularly of party and parliamentary government, see Treitschke, 
 " Die Politik," I., or " The Political Thought of H. Von Treitschke," 
 p. 189, by H. W. C. Davis, MA. 
 
 § In Greece and Bulgaria there is only one chamber. 
 
THE STATE 607 
 
 representing a different set of public interests, as in 
 Germany, Italy and England.* • 
 
 According to some writers, revision of the legislative 
 measures introduced into the Lower House is necessary 
 merely on account of the immoderateness of many of 
 the peoples' representatives, or the fact that so often 
 they do not fully represent the mind of the people. " If 
 we had an ideal Houi?e of Common?," writes Bagehot,f 
 . " perfectly representing the nation (and) always moderate 
 ... it is certain that we should not need a second 
 chamber. . . . And whatever is unnecessary in govern- 
 ment is pernicious." Now there can be no doubt that 
 amongst the representatives of the people the possibility 
 of immoderateness, selfishness, and treachery will always 
 be an evil to be reckoned with, and, therefore, revision of 
 the legislative measures of the Lower House will always 
 on this ground be desirable and even necessary. The 
 Lower House is often ruled by mere temporary majorities 
 who would be willing to sacrifice the permanent interests 
 of the people for the sake of some passing public or 
 private advantage ; or the legislative programme of 
 the House may have been placed most imperfectly and 
 confusedly before the country at election time, so that 
 a popular mandate could not be claimed for any, not 
 even the more important, part of that programme. In 
 these cases, of course, revision by an Upper House is 
 manifestly a requirement of the public interest. 
 
 But revision by an Upper House is necessary, not 
 merely as an antidote to immoderateness and possible 
 disloyalty towards the people on the part of the Lower 
 
 * John Stuart Mill considered that full legislative deliberation 
 did not require the introduction of second chambers, since in any 
 properly constituted Lower House ample opportunity could, and 
 should be given for second deliberations. He forgot that the ad- 
 vantage attaching to the two-chamber system lay, not in the possi- 
 bility it afforded of second deliberations, but of second deliberations 
 by a new body. The chief defect, according to Mill, of the Single 
 Chamber system lies in " the evil effect produced on a holder of power 
 by the consciousness of having himself only or itself to consult." — 
 (Rep. Gov. p. 97). 
 
 t " The English Constitution," p. 107. 
 
6o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 House, but also apart from such undesirable tendencies 
 and possibilities. Revision by a new body would be 
 desirable even if the Lower House consisted of the 
 cleverest, keenest, and most conscientious of individuals, 
 and for the simple reason that even of the keenest 
 heads the old adage holds that two are better than one ; 
 in other words, even with the very best of intentions, 
 the true interests of the community may sometimes be 
 mistaken, and the mind of the people be misconstrued, 
 and in that case it is a good thing that a new body should 
 be present, with power to check and revise measures 
 before they are passed, and even to reject these measures 
 altogether until a decisive popular mandate shall have 
 been obtained upon them. This is the chief and essential 
 function of all Upper Chambers.* 
 
 But a body of this kind once brought into being is 
 very often entrusted with other important functions, 
 secondary functions, of course, for which by its character 
 and constitution it seems to be specially suitable, and 
 very often these special functions impart to the Second 
 Chambers possessing them a strength and an importance 
 in the constitution which they would not otherwise 
 possess. Sometimes Upper Houses are given the power 
 of vetoing treaties, as in America, sometimes of appoint- 
 ing to offices (in America all appointments of govern- 
 ment requires the consent of the Senate). In certain 
 countries the consent of the Upper Chamber is necessary 
 for a dissolution of the Lower House, e.g. in France and 
 Germany, whilst in some countries it can actually itself 
 dissolve the Lower House, as in Germany. Again, in 
 England the Upper House is a final Court of Appeal in 
 judicial matters. In America it tries for impeachment. 
 In France it is constituted a Court for the trial of all 
 cases of " attempt on the safety of the State." In 
 federal States, in particular, the 'Upper House exercises 
 
 * An aristocratic Upper House is also supposed to defend the 
 special interests of the more wealthy and highly placed amongst 
 the citizens. 
 
THE STATE 6d^ 
 
 a very special legislative function which finds no place 
 in countries built on the unitary principle, and it is 
 mainly this function Which iniparts to the Upper Houses 
 of federal States their most distinctive and important 
 character. In federal States the Upper House repre- 
 sents the several component States in the federal parlia- 
 ment, just as the Lower House represents the natioii at 
 large. All these special characteristics and powers are 
 a source of great strength and added dignity to the 
 Houses to which they belong.* 
 
 The case of dead-lock. 
 
 One of the chief dangers attaching to the two-chamber 
 system is that of dead-lock, arising between the Houses. 
 Of course if the Lower House is willing to abandon the par- 
 ticular measure which is vetoed by the Upper House the 
 case of deadlock does not arise. But if the Lower House 
 insists upon its programme, and particularly if all legislation 
 is blocked by the opposition of the Senate, then unless an 
 
 * They are not, however, all equal as sources of strength in an 
 Upper Chamber. By a strong Upper House is meant one which 
 could hold its own in a conflict, whether with the Executive or with 
 the Lower House, and which could count, in entering on such conflict, 
 on a fair degree of support from the people. The chief source of 
 strength to a Lower House, and of relative weakness to the Upper 
 House, consists in the existence of the system of parliamentary 
 government, that system, viz. under which government is compelled 
 to resign on an adverse vote given in the Lower House Thus, where 
 government is non-parliamentary, second Chambers are correspondingly 
 strong, as in America and Germany. Again, second Chambers are 
 strong in federal States because of their special function of repre- 
 senting the component States. In highly centralised countries like 
 France the second Chamber tends to be weak. Special executive 
 and judicial functions are also, as we saw, a source of strength. An 
 interesting problem arises in the case of the French Senate. Over 
 and over again it has proved .itself a strong Chamter, capable even of 
 forcing the resignation of the government, even where the govern- 
 ment was not opposed by the Lower House. Now, in France we 
 have an instance of a highly centralised governmental system ; it 
 possesses the parliamentary system oi government ; and the Senate 
 has very few special functions. How then can the Senate be strong ? 
 We answer — the Upper House in France is not strong of itself. But 
 it is strong enough in comparison with the Lower House and the 
 government. For the Lower House is broken up into many parties 
 and is often divided against itself, and government has, therefore, 
 a weak reed on which to rely in the Lower House. In this way the 
 Upper House has constantly asserted its power with success. See 
 Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe." 
 
 VOL. II — 39 
 
6io THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 appeal to the people is possible, deadlock may ensue between 
 the two chambers, causing the gravest inconvenience to 
 government and the people. It is strange, therefore, in 
 how few countries machinery is provided for the removal of 
 such deadlock. In America no machinery is provided. In 
 case of dispute representatives of the two Houses meet and 
 wrangle and generally effect a compromise, but constitu- 
 tionally there is no means of removing deadlock when it 
 arises. It is the same in Germany and France. In Italy 
 recourse is still had to the now disused English custom of 
 creating peers to break down the opposition of the Upper 
 House, whilst England has now provided for the case by 
 rendering opposition in the Upper House impossible after 
 a measure has passed the Lower House in three different 
 sessions within the lifetime of a "single parliament. In 
 the Australian Commonwealth, after two disagreements be- 
 tween the Houses, parliament is dissolved, and, if after the 
 election disagreement should continue, the Governor General 
 convenes a joint session of both Houses where the vote of 
 an absolute majority of the total number of members is 
 decisive. In the Argentine Republic an increasing majority 
 is required for rejection at each successive stage of the Bill 
 as it is sent from one House to the other. 
 
 The Executive 
 
 It is not easy to find a single word which will success- 
 fully comprise all the powers usually assigned to the 
 sovereign governing body — the supreme executive in 
 any community. Usually, however, it is spoken of 
 simply as the executive. Roughly the functions of 
 this body are, first, to maintain the State and to devise 
 means for its maintenance such as taxation, public 
 property, etc.; second, to carry out the laws passed 
 by the legislature, and to administer the State in ac- 
 cordance with those laws ; thirdly, to punish those 
 citizens who violate the laws ; fourthly, to determine 
 the foreign relations of the State * and to declare and 
 
 * It is not always easy to know what are, properly speaking, 
 legislative acts, and what are executive acts. The distinction is 
 not always determinable through the bodie.'? to which these acts 
 are severally entrusted. Taxation is certainly an executive act, 
 though all budgets are passed by parliament ; war and treaty-making 
 
THE STATE 6ii 
 
 carry on war. To the executive, in fact, belongs the 
 whole residue of the public functions not included in 
 the two conceptions of " legislation " and " judgment." 
 
 The supreme executive power is exercised by the 
 sovereign executive body of the nation. But this body 
 delegates its powers to many other subordinate persons 
 and bodies, generally spoken of as the officials of the 
 government — the Army, the Navy, the Civil Service, 
 the Police, etc. Part of its powers it also delegates to 
 the local bodies which it entrusts with the management 
 of purely local affairs — the local executives. But the 
 supreme, the sovereign executive power rests always 
 with the central executive.* 
 
 Any attempt to determine the requirements of the 
 moral law in regard to all these functions of government 
 would be out of place in a work like the present and 
 would belong more properly to a work of casuistry in 
 the domain of Social Ethics. We believe, however, that 
 the principles already laid down in the present volume 
 on the duties of the State as determined by its end will 
 be found to be not only useful but also amply sufficient 
 for the solution of most of the moral problems arising 
 in connection with government. 
 
 We may, however, be allowed to say a brief word 
 here on one of the most important of the special duties 
 of government, a duty which, as we have said, though 
 exercised subject to the consent of the legislature, is 
 still properly speaking a duty of the executive, viz. 
 taxation. Taxes are certain payments exacted by the 
 
 also, though often placed to a large extent under the control of the 
 legislature, are really executive acts. 
 
 It may he!p the reader to understand what is meant by the supreme 
 executive when we say that in England the supreme executive con- 
 sists of the Crown and the ministers (the Cabinet), in. France of the 
 President and Cabinet, in America of the President, in Germany of 
 the Emperor represented by his Chancellor, and the Upper House or 
 Bundesrath. The Upper House in Germany is at once a legislative 
 chamber and the supreme executive council of the nation. 
 
 * In a Federal State like America there are many central bodies 
 dividing between them the sovereign executive power of the nation, 
 viz. the central federal executive and the central executives of the 
 component States. 
 
6i2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 public authority for the special purpose of maintaining 
 the State and enabling it to attain its end. Money paid 
 for any other purpose than this, e.g. fines inflicted for 
 violating the law, fares paid on State railways for value 
 received, is not, properly speaking, a tax. The State 
 enjoys a right of taxation because it has a right to take 
 the means necessary for its end, and its end being, as 
 we saw, natural, this right is also based on natural law. 
 In this ground we also have the measure of the right 
 enjoyed by the State in regard to taxation. The State 
 has a right to raise only such taxes as are necessary for 
 the exercise of the public functions. These functions 
 are, of course, exceedingly wide ; they include not only 
 the things that appertain to the very life and existence 
 of the State but also all kinds of public utilities ; and, 
 as the State develops, these functions grow often at a 
 surprising rate. Nevertheless it is important to re- 
 member that the State can impose taxes only up to 
 the measure of what is necessary for the exercise of 
 these functions, and that to impose taxes merely for 
 the purpose of enriching the State, or for the benefit 
 of private persons only, is a grave injustice to the com- 
 munity. Certain conclusions are suggested by the fore- 
 going principle. First, it is the bounden duty of the 
 State, an obligation binding in the strictest justice, to 
 avoid a plethora of public officials, for the support of 
 whom taxes have to be levied ; and where, on account 
 of special circumstances, a certain increase in the number 
 of officials becomes temporarily necessary, it is the duty 
 of government to reduce this number, so far as the 
 existing rights allow, as soon as the special circumstances 
 disappear. Again, in England the House of Commons 
 is given ample control over all increases in expenditure 
 in the various departments of government, but it has, 
 in practice no opportunity of effecting reductions in 
 expenditure, the estimates of one year being generally 
 accepted (in spite of the warning given each year by 
 the Treasury to the departments) as necessary for the 
 
THE STATE 613 
 
 following year also. This is not as it should be. 
 Estimates should not be allowed to becomfe stereotyped 
 in this way and open to alteration merely on the side 
 of increase. It is the duty of the State to reduce ex- 
 penses where possible as weU as to avoid all unnecessary 
 increases.* Again, any kind of favouritism in the 
 giving away of contracts is a grievous wrong, not only 
 against the several competitors but against the public 
 at large, who in the end have to bear all losses in money 
 and efficiency arising out of the restricted competition. 
 We believe also that it is the bounden duty of every 
 government to exclude from the headships of the public 
 departments all persons known to belong to any society 
 which binds its members to give the preference to certain 
 sections of the community, even under the well-known 
 and most insidious -proviso, " other things being equal." 
 To be bound to give preference in the case of govern- 
 mental contracts on any other basis than that of the 
 public interest should at once disqualify a man for all 
 positions concerned with the giving of such contracts ; 
 and to allow of his retention of such a position is a grave 
 offence against justice and a grave public scandal. 
 
 Distributive justice requires that taxes should be 
 distributed roughly in proportion to wealth. The man 
 who earns a livelihood only, i.e. a livelihood for himself 
 and his family, should be exempt from the duty of paying 
 taxes, at least such taxes as are directly paid. We 
 make the distinction because, where taxes are paid in- 
 directly and particularly where they are paid on foods 
 normally used by the people (tea, e.g. is now a normal 
 food for all), these indirect taxes are allowed for, in 
 determining the wages paid to workmen. But for the 
 most part direct taxes should be made to fall on the 
 
 * The system obtaining in England whereby the departments are 
 made to return all unspent surpluses to the Treasury at the end of 
 each session leads to the gravest abuses. Any ordinary department 
 will spend its surplus no matter how prodigally, rather than return 
 it, in order that the level of the estimates may be njajntai^^ed in the 
 following session. 
 
6i4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 rich and in proportion to their riches. They should be 
 charged also according to a progressive scale, the rate 
 of increase rising more steeply in the case of the higher 
 incomes than in the case of the lower.* In this matter, 
 however, it is not easy to say where real violations of 
 justice occur. As regards the imposition of taxes one 
 can only insist on the general negative principle that 
 undue burdens should not be placed on the shoulders 
 of any section of the community. The detailed carrying 
 out of this general law is a matter for reason and ex- 
 perience and a legislator's good sense of justice and fair 
 dealing with the citizens. 
 
 The Judicial Function 
 
 The third function of sovereignty is that of declaring 
 and maintaining justice. The problem of justice arises 
 in two cases ; first, civil cases where no crime is alleged, 
 and, secondly, criminal cases where the law is alleged 
 to have been violated and satisfaction is sought in the 
 courts of law. In both cases the litigant on either side 
 may be either an individual or body of individuals or 
 even the State itself represented by the government. 
 
 Duties of the judge. 
 
 [a) A judge is supposed to possess the necessary skiU 
 and knowledge required for the proper discharge of his 
 duties, and any attempt to discharge those duties without 
 the required degree of knowledge would be gravely 
 sinful and would impose an obligation of restitution in 
 respect of all wrongs sustained by either of the parties 
 through want of knowledge in the judge. A judge is 
 under no obligation to be omniscient even in the domain 
 of law, but at least he should be well versed in the law, 
 
 * Care, however, should be taken in effecting these steeper in- 
 creases not to stop accumulation of capital by rendering all furthei: 
 rises in income useless. The free accumulation of capital is absolutely 
 necessary in the public welfare. 
 
THE STATE 615 
 
 particularly in the law applicable to any case which he 
 undertakes to decide. If necessary also he should seek 
 advice from others. 
 
 (6) Judgment must be rendered according to law — 
 provided the law to be administered is not obviously 
 unjust. To inflict a penalty greater than that which 
 the law prescribes is a sin and would give rise to an 
 obligation of restitution. 
 
 (c) A judge must decide according to the public de- 
 positions of the witnesses and not according to purely 
 private information. In criminal cases, to condemn a 
 man on private information when his guilt cannot be 
 established in court would be a grave sin. On the 
 other hand, the opinions of authors vary as to the duty 
 of a judge who knows, from' private information, that 
 the accused is innocent, but who is guilty according to the 
 depositions. In such a case the judge should certainly 
 do everything to establish the innocence of the accused, 
 but if his innocence cannot be established it is his right 
 and his duty according to St. Thomas to judge according 
 to the depositions of the court, even if it is a trial for 
 life. Other authors maintain that in all cases of very 
 grave moment, like that of a trial for life, the judge might 
 make use of his private knowledge and acquit the accused. 
 In lesser cases, and particularly in regard to crimes that 
 are attended by light punishments, it is maintained that 
 a judge should find according to the depositions of the 
 court. 
 
 (d) An interesting question arises in regard to civil 
 cases, viz. whether it is the duty of a judge to call the 
 attention of the court to some important fact which 
 an advocate, either through ignorance or carelessness, 
 has failed to bring to its notice. In general it is not the 
 official duty of a judge to produce the facts or to see 
 that they are produced. That is the official duty of 
 the advocates on either side, and for this a judge may 
 always rely on the ability and integrity of the opposing 
 fidvocates. It is even better that in general he shoul4 
 
6i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 do BO, since otherwise he might be suspected of favouring 
 one side. But the question arises — granted that an 
 important fact is being omitted, may he or ought he to 
 bring it to the notice of the court ? There seems to 
 be no difficulty where the fact in question is a public 
 fact, or where at least some remote and implicit reference 
 has been made to it in court. For then a judge can 
 hardly be said to use his private knowledge. But if 
 the fact is private and no reference has been made to 
 it in court, direct or indirect, the problem is anything 
 but clear. There are some authors who declare that 
 in no case could a judge make reference to it in court, 
 since such reference would amount to pleading for a 
 particular side. Others consider that the judge has a 
 full right, and even ought to do so, since it is the first 
 duty of a judge to do justice between the parties ; he, 
 therefore, has every right, as well as a duty, to ask any 
 questions that have a bearing on the case so that justice 
 may be done. But there can be no doubt that a judge 
 who omits to have produced the relevant facts could 
 not be bound to restitution, since, as we have already 
 said, the understanding, at least in these countries, is 
 that this is the oihcial work of the advocates and not 
 of the judge. 
 
 (e) Where the evidence is certain, a judge should 
 decide accordingly. But what of doubtful cases ? In 
 doubtful criminal cases a judge ought to favour the 
 accused. In doubtful civil cases a possessor ought to 
 be left in possession until his right is disproved. Where 
 neither is in possession, some compromise ought to be 
 effected. 
 
 Obligations of advocates. 
 
 Advocates also have definite obligations towards the 
 law and towards their clients. 
 
 (a) An advocate should not undertake a case unless 
 he is possessed of the required knowledge, and having 
 UPdertalien it he phould giv? it all reasonable care and 
 
THE STATE 617 
 
 attention. He is responsible for all losses to his client 
 occurring through want of either. * 
 
 (6) In a civil case an advocate should not undertake 
 the defence of a cause which he knows to be unjust, 
 and if its injustice should become manifest during the 
 hearing of the case he should resign his brief. The 
 reason is that, if he should win, his advocacy is the 
 means whereby a definite and certain injustice is done 
 to the other party.* 
 
 (c) In civil cases an advocate can make use only of 
 just means to further his case. If he wins by injustice, 
 for instance, by producing false witnesses or documents, 
 he is bound to restitution. 
 
 {d) In criminal cases an advocate may undertake the 
 defence of an accused person whom he knows to be 
 guilty, provided he uses no fraudulent or- unjust means 
 in the defence. 
 
 (e) An advocate should examine his client thoroughly 
 beforehand, and to the best of his ability warn him of 
 the state of the case, e.g. that it is uncertain, and that 
 an action would be dangerous. If he fails to do so, and 
 if it is certain that his client would not have brought 
 an action known to be doubtful, he is bound to restitu- 
 tion in case of loss. 
 
 (/) To cause unnecessary delay in order to increase 
 his fees is a very grave sin in an advocate, and gives 
 rise to a grave obligation of restitution. 
 
 Trial by Jury. 
 
 The co-operation of lay-men in the administration of 
 justice is not without its dangers, but on the whole it is 
 
 • It is sometimes said that an advocate may take up a civil suit 
 which he knows to be unjust, because an advocate is merely an official 
 for stating the case on a particular side. This argument is quite 
 unsound and for two reasons. First, in an obviously unjust suit 
 there is only one case, that of the opponent ; secondly, in civil cases, 
 unhke criminal cases, an advocate pleads not only in favour of his 
 own side but as against the other, and, therefore, if the case is known 
 to be unjust, he knowingly aims at inflicting an injustice on that 
 other, and it is through his acjvopacy that such injustipe will ^e 
 inflicted. 
 
6i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 now universally believed these dangers are outbalanced by 
 the many advantages attendant on this system. The dangers 
 are ; first, that a jury will be " over susceptible to the 
 prompting of the emotions," in other words, that they are 
 not possessed of the judicial temperament ; secondly, there 
 is danger of insufficient • knowledge ; thirdly, there is the 
 very grave danger of party influence. The advantages are 
 that " the finding of a verdict requires a practical experience 
 of life, which a judge is apt to lose " ; that a jury of one's 
 countrymen will incline in the first instance to favour the 
 liberty of the subject, and rightly so, since the liberty of the 
 subject should be a first consideration in all judicial acts; 
 also that twelve heads are better than one, particularly 
 since as in England the jury is not concerned with questions 
 of law but of fact only, questions with which they are fully 
 capable of dealing.* 
 
 In England, also, for a verdict there must be unanimity 
 on the part of the jury. In the words of Treitschke, " the 
 demand for unanimity, despite its rigour, is on the whole 
 fully justified." It seems an absurd proceeding, for 
 instance, to allow the vote of a single individual, as in 
 the majority system, to determine whether a man will 
 be allowed to be hanged or go scot free. Treitschke's own 
 recommendation is " a form of trial by judge and jury, in 
 which the practical experience of the judge shall co-operate 
 in the decision on the nature of the offence and the guilt or 
 innocence of the accused. But, on the other hand, the lay- 
 men shall have a voice in the apportioning of the punish- 
 ment." 
 
 Theory of the Separation of the Powers of 
 Sovereignty 
 
 Since Montesquieu j wrote his " De I'Esprit des 
 Lois," his doctrine of the separation of the functions 
 of sovereignty has assumed very great importance in 
 political theory. Briefly this doctrine is to the effect 
 that the legislature should be distinct from the executive 
 and both of these from the judicature, i.e. that all these 
 functions should be placed in completely separate hands. 
 
 * For the discussion on the advantages and disadvantages of the 
 Athenian dikasteries (corresponding to our modem juries) see Grote^ 
 " History of Greece," vol. II. ch. xvi, 
 
 f 1689-1755, 
 
THE STATE 619 
 
 The theory is based principally on the two following 
 arguments : first, that the analogy of other organisms 
 than that of the State suggests the separation of the 
 powers. In a natural organism each function is entrusted 
 to a distinct organ. The eye is made to see only, the 
 ear to hear only. It is in this way that the balance of 
 function is maintained in all natural organisms, and in 
 this way also it is maintained in the organism of the 
 State. If the executive function and the legislative 
 were entrusted to the same body, one would certainly 
 be given the mastery over the other, and the organic 
 balance of the functions could not be sustained.* 
 Secondly, it is claimed that separation of the powers 
 is a necessary condition of justice and the freedom of 
 the subject, and as this is the main reason usually 
 adduced for separation of the powers we may be allowed 
 here to consider this second argument in some detail, 
 and as applied to certain definite cases. 
 
 (i) If the legislative function were confided to the 
 executive, i.e. the body charged with executing the 
 law, then [a^ the executive could legislate at any time 
 and for any occasion or set of circumstances to the 
 great detriment of law and public justice ; and (&) the 
 people would find themselves completely at the mercy 
 of the government officials, a separate legislature being 
 the only power really capable of restraining the executive 
 in its dealings with the people and of keeping the executive 
 within the law. 
 
 («) Laws are supposed to be general in their bearing, 
 i.e. they are devised to meet the general and more or 
 less permanent requirements of the community at 
 large. Only in this way can organisation and system 
 be introduced into the community, and only in this 
 way can the balance of justice be maintained between 
 the various sections of the community. If laws, for 
 instance, could be made or altered for each individual 
 case, say in order to determine the punishment befitting 
 
 * See Bluntschli, " Theory of the State," p. 518, 
 
620 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a particular crime committed on a particular occasion, 
 free rein would be given to passion and prejudice, and 
 little regard would be had to the general claims of justice 
 in providing for such cases. Now government, or the 
 executive, charged as it is with the administration of 
 the State, and faced as it is with problems of administra- 
 tion, not of an abstract but of a highly concrete character 
 at each occasion, is, above all things, interested in par- 
 ticular cases and particular circumstances. Were such 
 a body empowered to legislate, as well as to execute the 
 laws, the temptation would always be present, and at 
 times might prove overwhelming, to legislate in the 
 light of the particular circumstances, and to legislate 
 for the express purpose of overcoming the particular 
 difficulties incident to administration in a particular 
 case. Special legislation would, for instance, be intro- 
 duced to meet the case of noisy agitators, who were an 
 annoyance to the government, and special punishments 
 would be devised to meet even ordinary emergencies 
 (which the administration so often imagines to be of 
 the nature of crises) — punishments which if applied 
 outside the special times, circumstances, and exigencies, 
 would be certain to meet with public disapproval and 
 resentment. 
 
 The gravest danger to be feared in this connection 
 is the danger of ex post facto legislation or something 
 akin to it, either of a positive description, for instance, 
 special legislation enabling the government to deport 
 troublesome labour-leaders, or, what is much easier 
 and more probable, legislation of a negative sort, an- 
 nulling a law that has been violated by some one whom 
 the government is interested in protecting, in the hope 
 that no judge would condemn a man for violation of a 
 law which at the time of trial had already been abro- 
 gated. All these possibilities are to be regarded as 
 gravely affecting the conditions generally assumed to 
 be necessary for justice and liberty. In general terms, 
 the liberty of the subject is sure to be outraged wljere 
 
THE STATE 621 
 
 government is under no obligation of acting within the 
 law. But acting within the law has no nfeaning in the 
 case of a government that can make laws upon any and 
 every occasion (a power that would certainly belong to 
 government if it had also the right to legislate), just as 
 it would be absurd to maintain that a man acted up to 
 the rules of the game who could make and alter these 
 rules according as the game proceeded. 
 
 (6) This last argument can be confirmed by con- 
 siderations based on the necessity felt in every State 
 of providing in parliament itself some effective check 
 on the free and unfettered exercise of governmental 
 power. In every modern parliament the legislature 
 enjoys the right of " question " or " interpellation," i.e. 
 the right to call upon the ministers of government to 
 give an account of their stewardship and to explain 
 and justify not only their own acts but also the conduct 
 of the subordinate officials. For this purpose, even 
 where ministers are not members of the Lower House, 
 they can be arraigned before the Lower House, and in 
 most cases are even supposed to be permanently present 
 or represented before that House in case the need for 
 question should arise. Unsatisfactory explanations may 
 be followed by a vote of censure, the enforced resigna- 
 tion of government, or the refusal of supplies. On the 
 other hand, if legislation and administration were func- 
 tions of the same body, this right of question or inter- 
 pellation would have neither place nor meaning. 
 
 In particular we may be allowed to refer here to the 
 need of a separate legislature as a protection against 
 prodigal expenditure on the part of the government, 
 and the possibility of excessive and unjust taxation. 
 Many of the departments of government are, above all 
 things, spending departments. Were government given 
 free access to, and full command over, the public 
 purse, depletion of that purse and national financial 
 ruin would be the sure and speedy consequence. Even 
 in a country like England, parliament has to exercise 
 
622 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the most ceaseless vigilance, and constantly to review 
 and alter the machinery of control at its disposal, in 
 order to keep the public expenditure within reasonable 
 limits. 
 
 (2) That the judiciary should be separate from the 
 legislature and executive is evident from the following 
 reasons : it should be separate from the legislature 
 because {a) the judge is the interpreter of the law. Now 
 law should be interpreted, not according to what it is 
 intended to mean, but by what it actually means. It is 
 only in its actual meaning that a law is promulgated, 
 is made known to the subject, and binds the subject. 
 But a legislator is more interested in what a law is 
 intended to mean than in what it means, the legislator 
 being the maker of the law, and being chiefly interested 
 in the effects it is intended to produce ; and, therefore, 
 he will be liable to read the intended meaning into it, 
 and if entrusted with the function of judgment will 
 tend to judge according to his own intentions and not 
 according to the actual provisions of his decree. A 
 legislator will not care to acknowledge or to assume that 
 laws have been rendered devoid of meaning or have 
 failed of their purpose through a flaw for which he is 
 himself, to some extent, responsible ; and yet such 
 flaws occur, and are possible in the case of any measure. 
 A legislator, therefore, should be regarded as naturally 
 incapacitated from acting as interpreter of his own law, 
 and, as we saw, interpretation is one of the chief 
 functions of the judiciary. 
 
 (b) The judicial function should also be separate from 
 the executive, because government may itself be a party 
 to the suit — nemo judex in sua causa. And even where 
 the government is not directly concerned, it may be 
 interested in a particular case from the point of view of 
 the public order, or for some other reason ; in that case 
 a judge who is the executive, or forms part of the 
 executive, will be under strong temptation to further 
 his purposes as part of the executive at the expense of 
 
THE STATE 623 
 
 judicial impartiality, acting either on insufficient evidence 
 or according to private information, or in* some other 
 fashion at variance with judicial honour and the judicial 
 conventions.* 
 
 The three functions of sovereignty, therefore, should 
 be in distinct hands. The proper and efficient exercise 
 of those functions requires it, and, above all, justice and 
 the liberty of the people demand it, for which reason 
 the revolutionaries of France made the separation of 
 the powers a cardinal article in the Declaration of the 
 Rights of Man. A country, they averred, in which the 
 powers are not separate " n'a point de constitution." 
 
 Ejects of over-separation of the powers. 
 
 We have seen that to place the different powers of 
 sovereignty in the same hands would constitute a stand- 
 ing menace to the liberty of the subject. But as in all 
 human affairs there is another side to the picture. There 
 is such a thing as over-separation. If to combine the 
 powers is bad, so to separate them as to break down 
 between them every channel of connection, interaction, 
 and control, t would be attended by consequences equal 
 to, if not more formidable than those which we have 
 just described, and, strange to say, the categories of 
 disorder arising here are to some extent the same as 
 those which we have traced in connection with the 
 contrary system. Let us enumerate just a few of the 
 more obvious consequences of over-separation, [a] Where 
 the executive is completely distinct from the legislative 
 power, in the sense not only of lying in distinct hands 
 
 * An argument is sometimes developed based on difierences in 
 the habits of mind required for legislator, administrator, and judge, 
 and the difierence in special knowledge required by each (See Mill, 
 Rep. Gov. pp 36-38). We do not attach much importance to the 
 argument 
 
 t As in America. In England although separation of the powers 
 obtains, the Executive is largely dependent on the Legislature. Its 
 members are even members of the Legislature. 
 
624 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 but also of having no dependence on it, then govern- 
 ment is quite as free to deal tyrannically with the people 
 as in the system where both functions are combined. 
 Questions, of course, may be raised in parliament, votes 
 of censure may be passed, but unless the executive is 
 really under the control of parliament, question and 
 censure are of no avail. " Either House of Congress," 
 says Bryce,* writing about the United States, where 
 separation almost completely obtains, " can direct a 
 committee to summon and examine a minister who 
 though he might legally refuse to attend never does 
 refuse. The committee when it has got him can do 
 nothing more than question him. He may evade their 
 questions, may put them off the scent by dexterous 
 concealments. He may with impunity tell them that 
 he means to take his own course. To his own master, 
 the President, he standeth or falleth." 
 
 (b) Complete separation of the powers of legislation 
 and government or administration must sometimes end 
 in deadlock between the two. In America if Congress 
 and President hold out against each other there is really 
 nothing to be done. Congress could, of course, refuse 
 supplies. But, as Bryce remarks, " to withold the 
 ordinary supplies and thereby stop the machine of 
 government would injure the country and themselves 
 far more than the President." Of course government 
 can be given the power of dissolving parliament and 
 forcing an appeal to the people, as happens in England, 
 but this power of dissolution supposes a certain control 
 of government over legislation and is inconsistent with 
 the idea of complete separation, f 
 
 (c) Even though conflict and deadlock do not ensue, 
 still the mere fact that the two powers are in separate 
 hands leads to a certain want of unity and system in 
 the whole work and policy of legislation and govern- 
 
 * " The American Commonwealth," I. 210. 
 
 t In France, during the Revolution, conflicts between the powers 
 generally ended in a coup d'Etat. Witness, for instance, the bloodless 
 revolution of the i8th Fructidor. 
 
THE STATE 625 
 
 ment. Of the United States Bryce tells us,* that " its 
 branches are unconnected, their efforts are not directed 
 to one aim, do not produce one harmonious result." In 
 great crises this want of unity may be disastrous, and 
 it is for this reason, apparently, that in time of war, 
 the President of the United States would seem em- 
 powered in some way to throw off the yoke of the con- 
 stitution altogether, and to constitute himself dictator. 
 He did so at the time of the war of secession, and as 
 Bryce remarks, " without congressional censure." 
 
 [d) The executive, through not being represented in 
 the legislature, is deprived of all opportunity of guiding 
 legislation ; yet it is the executive that most fully under- 
 stands the needs of the country, and particularly in the 
 very important domain of national expenditure. 
 
 {e) Finally we may draw a lesson from the long and 
 bitter struggle of executive against legislature that 
 proved so disastrous to France at the end of the eighteenth 
 century. Where the two powers are completely separate 
 each wUl struggle for the mastery, and the country will 
 suffer in the result. To the French constitution-makers 
 of 1791, 1793, 1795, and 1799 the one great constitutional 
 problem that presented itself was whether the legislature 
 or the executive should be the stronger in opposition. 
 To that problem they were being constantly brought 
 back by their whole-hearted acceptance of the theory of 
 the separation of the powers. But there was another 
 problem to which a milder acceptance of the same 
 principle should just as easily have turned their atten- 
 tion, yet which in reality never seems to have occurred 
 to them, viz. whether the legislature and executive 
 should really be separate and opposed ; whether, on 
 the contrary, it might not be possible, by connecting 
 them up together and placing each, in different 
 capacities, under the control of the other, to make of 
 these two departments not two opposed, but one har- 
 monious system, whilst still observing in all essentials 
 
 * op. cit.'^Tp. 294. 
 
 VOL. 11 — 40 
 
626 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Montesquieu's doctrine of separation. In England the 
 greater prominence was given to the second problem 
 iiot to the first, and the result was early felt in the unity 
 and smoothness that have now been so long the chief 
 characteristic of the British Constitution. In England 
 parliament controls government, and by a vote of want 
 of confidence can force its resignation. But government 
 can also dissolve parliament, putting the parties to all 
 the uncertainty and expense of a general election. 
 The people are a third factor in this most effective com- 
 position of forces, on the one hand resenting the too 
 frequent use of dissolution, both as indicating incom- 
 petence and as attended by much commercial loss and 
 disturbance, and, on the other hand, insisting on their 
 ancient right of deciding the issues where really serious 
 interests are at stake. It is " this delicate equipoise," 
 Writes Bryce,* " of the ministry, the House of Commons, 
 and the nation acting at a general election (which) is the 
 secret of the smooth working of the British Constitution." 
 
 Parliamentary Government. 
 
 From what we have just said the reader will have no 
 difficulty in understanding what is meant by the system of 
 Parliamentary Government. It is that system under which 
 government is responsible to, and is controlled by parlia- 
 ment, in the sense that the chief executive is supposed to 
 be chosen from the members of parliament, and can be dis- 
 missed by parliament. 
 
 In England and France, where Parliamentary Government 
 obtains, the chief acting executive, the cabinet, | is chosen 
 from parliament. Every member of the cabinet in England, 
 every minister, is supposed to be a member of either House. 
 If a minister who is not a member should happen to be 
 appointed, he must seek for election to parliament as soon 
 as possible, and, if after a reasonable period he cannot find 
 a seat in parliament, he must resign. Again, both in England 
 
 * op. cit. I. 220. 
 
 t Neither king nor president must be taken into account here. 
 Potb act through ministers. Their acts are the acts of their roinisteis. 
 
THE STATE 627 
 
 and France the ministry resigns upon a vote of want of con- 
 fidence by parliament. A government irfky, of course, 
 before resigning make appeal to the higher court of the 
 people, at a general election. But if such appeal is not 
 made, the government is bound to resign. Parliament may 
 thus be said to exercise over government a kind of jurisdiction 
 analogous to that which the ordinary courts exercise over 
 litigants. They must either stand by the decision of the 
 ordinary court or appeal to a higher court. 
 
 In America and Germany, where parliamentary govern- 
 ment does not obtain, government or the executive (the 
 president in one case, the German chancellor in the other) 
 does not resign upon an adverse vote in parhament.* 
 
 In spite of certain obvious defects the parliamentary 
 system will be found to be the most consonant with the 
 requirements of a democratic State. It gives the people, 
 through their representatives, full control over government. 
 Also some degree of stability is afforded by the fact that the 
 ministry, being chosen from the legislature, will be careful 
 not to run counter to its wishes, and a still higher degree 
 by the fact, which is not of the essence of parliamentary 
 government, but is generally found to be an accompaniment 
 of it, that parliament can be dissolved by the government ; 
 for a parliament which can be dissolved by government will 
 not too lightly allow itself to differ in essential matters 
 from the government. Members of the majority in parlia- 
 ment have no liking for the expense and uncertainty of a 
 general election. f > 
 
 A stiU higher dee;iee of stability is obtainable, however, 
 under another system which is spoken of sometimes as 
 semi-parliamentary government— a system under which 
 whilst government is appointed by parliament, and for the 
 parliamentary period, it cannot be dismissed by parliament. J 
 Whether such a system would work in England is uncertain. 
 
 * We may be permitted to point out here that in England the 
 prime minister or head of the Cabinet is chosen not only from parlia- 
 ment but in a sense also by parhament. The King is bound to appoint 
 as prime minister the leader of the victorious party at the general 
 ei.w-.ion. In France, there being many parties, the president himself 
 exercises a good deal of discretion in the choice of his prime minister. 
 
 f The defects of the parliamentary system of government can easily 
 be gathered from the preceding discussions. A powerful criticism of 
 the system is given by Treitschke in D%e Politik. See Davis, op. cit. 
 P- 195- 
 
 t The Federal Council, the chief Executive of Switzerland, holds 
 office in this way. 
 
628 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Its obvious defect is that once elected the executive is then 
 free of all further parliamentary control.* 
 
 The Cabinet System of Government. 
 
 Though parliamentary government is conceivable without 
 a cabinet yet the two are in fact coincident in all modern 
 States and tend to be coincident. We shall define the cabinet 
 according to the form which it actually assumes in every 
 modern State adopting cabinet rule. The cabinet is a body 
 of ministers constituting between them the supreme acting 
 executive and jointly responsible to the legislature for the acts 
 of all and each. First it is a bodv. If the Chancellor in 
 Germany took over all the work of the departments into his 
 own hands, and, therefore, became the only minister of 
 government, he would not merit the name of cabinet ; the 
 cabinet is a body. Secondly, the cabinet is a body of ministers, 
 i.e. bi the heads of government. Existing cabinets are also 
 bodies of ministers in a further sense, i.e. ministers to some 
 ruling individual. In England they are ministers to the 
 king ; in France to the president. Thirdly, they are the 
 supreme acting executive. In England the king is the nominal 
 head of the executive. All acts of government are done in 
 his name. But the King of England, like the President of 
 France, has no power of independent action. He acts 
 through his ministers. Every act of his must be counter- 
 signed by them, or at least one of them. They, therefore, are 
 the acting as opposed to the nominal executive. Fourthly, 
 they act with joint responsibility. If the cabinet as a whole 
 cannot approve of the policy of any minister he must resign. 
 If he is allowed to stay, the cabinet as a whole is responsible 
 for his acts. Fifthl}', the cabinet is responsible to the 
 representatives of the people, to parliament, meaning that 
 it must resign if it loses the confidence of parliament. 
 
 The English and French ministries, as we saw, are cabinets. 
 The American is not.f The President of America has his 
 
 * In Switzerland, where the semi-parliamentary system is adopted, 
 this want of legislative control matters very little. The Swiss executive 
 would never dream of seriously opposing the legislature, much less 
 of challenging it to a trial of strength with the people. The name 
 " semi-parliamentary " government, as applied to Switzerland, is 
 hardly well chosen ; the Swiss system possesses not even one of the 
 characteristics of parliamentary government as it exists in France or 
 England. The ministers there are not even members of the legislature. 
 
 ■f The American ministers are sometimes spoken of as a Cabinet, 
 but erroneously. 
 
THE STATE 6.-9 
 
 ministers — the heaas of the various departments. But these 
 ministers have no joint responsibility to any body, not even 
 to the president.* They hardly even meet as a distinctive 
 body, the function of each being simply to manage the de- 
 partment under his control, and advise the president in 
 regard to the work of that department. Besides, they are 
 not the supreme acting executive. They are in strict truth, 
 and literally, subordinates to, servants of, the President. 
 He appoints and dismisses them at his pleasure. So also 
 the German ministers do not constitute a cabinet. 
 
 Of the parts of our definition only one needs explanation 
 — the notion of joint responsibility. Why are the ministers 
 constituting the cabinet jointly responsible ? One obvious 
 reason is that government is one great organised act. It 
 cannot be divided up into a number of isolated departments. 
 No minister, therefore, ought to be absolutely free in 
 the department entrusted to him, i.e. his work should be 
 carried out with some consideration for the requirements of 
 the others ; and, therefore, &.11 are responsible for the policy 
 and acts of each.f Where the ministers are really subject 
 to one head as in America and Germany, it is for the head 
 to organise the work of all ; and, so, joint responsibility 
 amongst the ministers becomes unnecessary. But where 
 the ministers are themselves the supreme acting executive, 
 the necessity for joint responsibility is found to arise. 
 
 A second reason for joint responsibihty is that the mind 
 of the cabinet must be one. The cabinet is the advisory 
 body of the king in England, of the president in France, 
 and advice (particularly under the system of parliamentary 
 government, where advice is really of the nature of direction 
 and command and not of counsel merely), to be effective, 
 must be single and definiie. To say to the monarch that 
 some of the ministers counselled one thing, others another, 
 would be practically to leave the monarch full discretion 
 to follow what course he pleased, and to revive the almost 
 absolute prerogative of the monarchy before 1834. "Now 
 is it," said Lord Melbourne, after a discussion on the corn 
 
 * The president, however, can dismiss them. They are responsible 
 to him but not jointly 
 
 t The necessity for joint control is especially obvious in the 
 matter of finance. If each minister were independent he could beggar 
 all the other departments by too liberal expenditure in his own. In 
 South Africa recently one minister declared that he would not be 
 responsible for the finance of the government if the minister of railways 
 were given a free hand in the work of his department. 
 
630 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 laws, " to lower the price on corn or isn't it ? It isn't much 
 matter which we say, but mind we say the same thing." 
 It was a rough-and-ready exposition of the chief ground 
 and purpose of joint responsibility. 
 
 The Administrative Courts. 
 
 We saw that in accordance with the theory of the separa- 
 tion of the powers, the executive should be separate from 
 the legislature, and the judiciary from both of these. In 
 regard to the legislature and executive, however, most 
 modern writers recommend not absolute separation but 
 such a degree of separation as will allow of a certain amount 
 of control being exercised by each over the other, and a 
 certain consequent unity of policy and effort. But the 
 judiciary stands in a totally different position, and all 
 authorities are agreed that to it must be accorded the fullest 
 measure of distinction from, and independence of the 
 other powers. Not only should the judiciary be vested in 
 separate persons, but the judges once appointed should be 
 independent of legislature and executive, both as regards 
 the exercise of their judicial functions and as regards their 
 tenure of office. A judge of the High Court in England is 
 irremovable except on a petition of both Houses. 
 
 An interesting case, however, of inconsistency in the 
 application of this general principle of the separation of 
 the powers has here to be considered. In some European 
 countries, by a curious inversion of reasoning, this principle, 
 which in general is regarded as necessitating the complete 
 separation of the judiciary from the other functions, is utilised 
 to yield a directly opposite conclusion in one department of 
 the work of the judiciary. The judiciary, it is said, ought 
 to be separate from the executive ; therefore, the judiciary 
 should not be given jurisdiction over executive matters ; as 
 a consequence, litigious cases in which the executive is con- 
 cerned, for instance, cases in which the executive officials 
 are accused of having exceeded their powers, should be 
 made to appertain not to the ordinary courts, but to executive 
 or administrative courts — " tribunals created specially for 
 this purpose, and composed of officials in the service of the 
 government." ■" In France the judges of these administrative 
 courts are not independent of the executive, for, whereas 
 the judges of the ordinary courts are irremovable, those of 
 
 * Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe," I. 57. 
 
THE STATE 631 
 
 the administrative courts can be removed at any time by 
 the President of the Republic* • 
 
 Now it will be obvious that this system of administrative 
 courts cannot be said to accord very strictly with the ideals 
 of political justice. What chance has an ordinary citizen 
 in a suit against the government where the presiding judges 
 themselves are officials of the government and removable 
 by the head of government at will ? Far better and juster 
 is the system known as the " rule of law " obtaining in 
 England, under which all cases, whether against private 
 individuals or members of the government, whether the 
 case be one of private or public law, fall to the jurisdiction 
 of one or other of the ordinary courts, to be tried by an 
 ordinary judge, and not under special administrative laws 
 but under the ordinary law of the land. Moreover the whole 
 system is based on a false reading of the principle of the 
 separation of the powers. The principle of separation means 
 that an act of legislation should be performed by the legislative 
 body and not by the executive body : that an executive 
 act should be performed by the executive body not by the 
 legislature : and that judicial acts belong to judicial authori- 
 ties and not to the executive or the legislature. It does not 
 mean that affairs in which the executive is concerned, 
 should not come before the judiciary. If it did, such cases 
 could never be tried by any court or any judges, whether 
 ordinary or administrative, f Since judicial acts fall within 
 the function of the judiciary alone, the exercise of the 
 judicial power, whether in relation to affairs of government 
 or those of private individuals, should be a matter not for 
 
 • In Germany administrative courts also exist, but the adminis- 
 trative judges are there in a " much better position to control officials 
 than in France." In the highest of these administrative courts the 
 judges are appointed for hfe and cannot be suspended or removed or 
 " transferred without the approval of a judicial tribunal " — {Lowell, 
 I. 2q6). 
 
 ■f For an interesting account of the history and bearings of Ad- 
 ministrative Law, see Dicey, " Law and Custom of the Constitution." 
 
 We wish at the end of this long section on the " separation of the 
 powers " to point out that in no country is the theory of separation 
 carried out m its fullness. Just, for instance, as the King of England, 
 the head of the English Executive, hai. a veto on legislation, ?o also 
 the President of America has a (limited) veto. And just as in England 
 the House of Lords (a legislative House) is the final judicial Court 
 of Appeal, so in America impeachments come before the Upper House. 
 In England, however, a large measure of separation obtains, and in 
 America much more. 
 
632 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the executive but for the judiciary, and no distinction should 
 be made between an ordinary judiciary and an administrative 
 judiciary or judge or court. Under the theory of the separa- 
 tion of the powers the idea of an administrative judiciary or 
 administrative court is to be regarded as a contradiction in 
 terms. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 INTERNATIONAL LAW 
 
 In the first part of the present volume we treated of the 
 rights and duties of individuals, in the second we treated 
 of the family and its place in the community ; in the 
 third of the State — its nature, attributes, and powers. 
 There remains the question of the relations obtaining 
 between States, of their rights and duties in regard to 
 one another, or what is spoken of as international law. 
 The following working definition of international law 
 may be provisionally offered for the reader's acceptance : 
 it is that body of laws which determines and defines 
 the rights and duties of the general body of States in 
 their mutual relations and dealings. 
 
 We shall treat in the following pages, first, of the 
 immediate subjects of, that is, those who fall immediately 
 within the scope of, international law ; secondly, of the 
 different kinds of international law ; thirdly, of its 
 nature and character ; fourthly, of the existence of a 
 natural international law ; lastly we shall consider the 
 two special questions of " treaties " and " war." 
 
 The Subjects of International Law 
 
 International laws exist between States only, and, 
 therefore, only amongst communities possessing the 
 degree of organisation and independence which is re- 
 quired by the essential conception of the State. That 
 conception we have already fully examined. Its two 
 chief characteristics are those of self-sufficiency (in the 
 technical sense explained *) and sovereignty. For the 
 
 * See p. 465. 
 
 633 
 
634 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 first a certain degree of development and organisation, 
 economic, juridical, and military, is required ; for the 
 Becon4 the possession of full original underived juris- 
 diction over the whole people and -over every depart- 
 ment internal and external of the public life is an essen- 
 tial condition. Through want of the required degree of 
 development and organisation uncivilised communities 
 are generally regarded as lying outside the category of 
 the State, and, therefore, international law is not re- 
 garded as extending to these communities.* For want 
 of full sovereignty such communities as the component 
 " States " of the United States and of Gennany are 
 excluded. They are not fully sovereign, and in par- 
 ticular they are without sovereign authority in the 
 sphere with which international law is immediately and 
 essentially concerned, viz. the sphere of the external 
 affairs of States. 
 
 A question much discussed amongst jurists is whether 
 tributary, client,! and other " dependent " States are 
 subject to international law. The difficulty here is, 
 that such States though technically sovereign, inasmuch 
 as they possess radical jurisdiction over all matters, a 
 jurisdiction also which is not derived from other States, 
 will generally be found to have placed themselves, or 
 been placed, in a position of dependence on some other 
 State, the control of a part of their affairs and particu; 
 larly their external affairs being placed in the hands of 
 the State to which they have been rendered tributary. 
 Now the position of such States in regard to inter- 
 national law would seem to be as follows : being sovereign 
 these States are naturally subjects of international 
 law ; yet having placed, whether freely or not, the 
 control of their external affairs in the hands of another 
 
 • These uncivilised communities, however, have their natural 
 rights as against all others. 
 
 •f It is not necessary to draw fine distinctions here between the 
 various kinds of dependent States. For these distinctions see Lawrence, 
 " The Principles of International Law," p. 6t : also Westlake, " Inter- 
 national Law," I. ch. 3- 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 635 
 
 authority it is not to be expected that other . States will 
 take cognisance of the radical sovereignty still remaining 
 to these tributary States, they may, therefore, properly 
 be treated as without sovereignty and consequently as 
 not immediately subject to international law. But this 
 practice is not to be regarded as opposed in any way to 
 the general position that the natural unit, coming im- 
 mediately within the scope of international law, is the 
 sovereign State. 
 
 The Kinds of International Law 
 
 International laws are divided into natural and positive. 
 Natural international laws are those laws that arise out 
 of the very nature of the State antecedently to State- 
 agreement or State-act of any kind ; positive inter- 
 national laws are those laws that depend entirely on 
 inter-State agreement, express or tacit, or on some kind 
 of State enactment or act. Thus the right of a State 
 to defend itself when unjustly attacked is a natural 
 right. The laws relating to the internment of war-ships 
 by neutrals in time of war are positive laws. Most 
 positive international laws, however, like most positive 
 national laws, will be found to be dependent on the 
 natural law as their ground and purpose, as will be 
 shown in a later section of the present chapter. 
 
 Again the distinction is sometimes drawn between 
 public and private international law. Public inter- 
 national law is that which obtains between States as 
 such ; private international law is a system of law that 
 obtains between one State and the subjects or the 
 property of another State under certain conditions, or, 
 it is that system of law which determines the rules to 
 be applied by the courts of a State, in adjudicating upon 
 the rights of private individuals, in cases where com- 
 peting jurisdictions in different countries are invoked, 
 or where the individual has acquired a domicile in, or 
 entered into legal obligations within the jurisdiction of 
 
636 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 another State : as, for instance, the rule by which 
 courts in this country will refuse to decide the title to 
 lands in another country such as France, even in a suit 
 by French subjects resident in this country, or the rule 
 by which, upon intestacy, property in one country is 
 distributed, not according to the law of that country, 
 but according to the law of the domicile of the deceased. 
 Only public law is international law properly so called, 
 and, therefore, when we speak in the present work of 
 international law we may always be understood to 
 speak of public international law only. 
 1 A further distinction is that of universal and particular 
 international law, i.e. those laws that are recognised and 
 acted on by all civilised races and those that are recog- 
 nised and acted on by certain States only. The former 
 will for the most part be found to coincide with natural 
 international law, since it is only what is natural that 
 is felt to be required by all. 
 
 Ethics being the science of the natural moral law, it 
 will be obvious that the only part of international law 
 of which account can be taken in the present work is 
 the natural international law. Our present chapter, 
 therefore, is devoted to considering the relations of 
 States in so far as these relations are governed by 
 natural law. 
 
 The Nature or Character of International Law 
 
 The general definition of international law already 
 given may here be allowed to stand, viz. it is that body 
 of laws which determines and defines the rights and, 
 duties of the general body of States in their mutual 
 relations and dealings. Two special questions, however, 
 suggest themselves in regard to the meaning of this 
 definition — first, is international law really to be re- 
 garded as falling under the category of law in the proper 
 sense of that term ? Secondly, are the rights and duties 
 to which it gives rise moral rights and duties, or, in 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 637 
 
 general, is international law governed by moral con- 
 siderations, and is it a portion of the morai law ? 
 
 (i) Law and the rules of international law. 
 
 It has been pointed out by some writers that what 
 we speak of as international law is really not law in the 
 proper sense, since law is a rule imposed by some one 
 having authority over the persons or communities 
 bound by the law. But States, it is argued, have no 
 common ruler, and the rules which determine their 
 relations are, therefore, not to be regarded as laws in 
 the proper sense of the term. Here, however, we must 
 repeat our distinction of natural and positive inter- 
 national law already given. The natural precepts of in- 
 ternational law are grounded immediately upon nature 
 {i.e. the natural relations between States as determined 
 by the nature of the State) and ultimately on the Author 
 of nature ; and as all States, like all individuals, are 
 subject to the laws of nature and to the supreme lawgiver, 
 so the natural precepts of international law are to be 
 regarded as laws in the strictest sense of the word. 
 They are imposed by One having authority over all 
 States. With the positive rules or precepts of inter- 
 national law, i.e. those rules that depend on agreement 
 only, it is quite different. These rules are not imposed 
 by any person or body having common authority over 
 States, and over international relations, but are matters 
 of compact and agreement only, just like the compacts 
 and agreements of private individuals ; and, therefore, 
 though, like private individual agreements, they bind 
 in conscience and in law and will be upheld by the 
 Supreme Lawgiver, nevertheless they are not laws in 
 the technical sense of the word, but rules or compacts 
 only, depending for their enforcement on the good faith 
 of the several parties to the contract. Since, however, 
 to separate the two sets of international rules, the natural 
 and the positive, calling the one set laws and the other 
 
638 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 by some other name, would be most inconveriieiit, and 
 since international agreements once made, though not 
 themselves laws, are nevertheless agreements binding 
 the nations in conscience and binding by natural . law 
 (the duty of keeping to our contracts being a duty of 
 natural law), so it is customary now to speak of the two 
 groups, even those dependent on positive enactment, 
 as laws, and as making up between them the code 
 known as international law. 
 
 (2) International law and morality. 
 
 If doubt is sometimes expressed by writers as to 
 whether international law is to be regarded as dependent 
 upon moral law or is possessed of any moral bearing or 
 character, the reason is because these writers entertain 
 the most erroneous views of what the moral law really 
 is, and what the subject matter with which it deals. 
 International law, it is said, deals with actual needs, 
 with the material wants of States, whereas morality 
 deals with ideals merely, with supra-mundane things, 
 with what otight to be, not with what is ; and not only, 
 it is claimed, are these two categories of things distinct 
 and independent, but the attempt even to reconcile 
 them must often be exceedingly dif&cult. Now, as we 
 said, this view of the nature and subject-matter of the 
 moral law is altogether erroneous. The natural moral 
 law is nothing more than the necessity of doing or attain- 
 ing the things that are necessary for our natural per- 
 fection, i.e. the perfection which is obtainable by man 
 within the compass of his natural capacities. As man's 
 nature is given him by the Author of nature, of course it 
 is on the Author of nature that the natural law is ulti- 
 mately grounded. But it is grounded immediately upon 
 our human nature itself, and we determine the precepts 
 of this law, not by direct examination of the divine 
 mind, which would be impossible, but by the study of 
 our own capacities and needs, their natural objects, and 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 639 
 
 the acta necessary for the attainment of these objects. 
 It will thus be seen that the natural moral law is not to 
 be regarded as dealing with ethereal matters, as resting 
 on no need ot our material life. The natural law is the 
 law which prescribes the things that are necessary for 
 our human natural perfection, and it includes every 
 kind of natural necessity, necessities of mind and of 
 body, the things necessary for each man personally, 
 and the things necessary in our dealings with one 
 another, the State, which we said is a necessity of nature, 
 and the necessary relations of States. Thus inter- 
 national law, which prescribes the things necessary for 
 States in their mutual relations and dealings, is nothing 
 more than a part of the moral law, and must be regarded 
 as governed generally by moral considerations. 
 
 Again, this theory of the non-moral character of inter- 
 national Taw may be met by the argument that it leads 
 to a conclusion the very opposite of that which it aims 
 at establishing. For the chief purpose of such a theory 
 is to exalt international law in the eyes of the world by 
 representing it as supreme and independent of any other 
 law or person or order of things, whereas what this 
 theory really leads to is the complete bankruptcy of 
 international law. Certain international laws, for in- 
 stance, are grounded on treaties entered into by a 
 number of civilised States. But if these treaties do 
 not themselves rest on something deeper than them- 
 selves, if they do not rest upon a law of nature, enjoining 
 the faithful performance of promises and contracts, and 
 forbidding the violation of treaties as wrong and sinful, 
 then treaties have no power to bind the contracting 
 parties to their performance, and each nation will not 
 only regard itself as free, but will also be entirely free, 
 to adhere to or to renounce such treaties just as its own 
 private interest dictates. This is much more than 
 claiming that there comes a time in the case of every 
 treaty when it can no longer be reasonably regarded as 
 binding on the parties ; the present theory amounts to 
 
640 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 the claim that such a time is always present, that in 
 breaking treaties a nation violates no obligation whatso- 
 ever, no matter what the circumstances, and that the 
 only question which a State could reasonably be ex- 
 pected, to entertain, in regard to treaties which it is 
 tempted to violate, is' the question whether, having 
 violated them, it will be strong enough to defy the 
 hostility of those States with which it has broken faith. 
 Such an understanding of the nature and binding-force 
 of treaties is clearly opposed to the conscience and 
 reason of the world. It empties international under- 
 takings of all reality, of all binding-force, of everything 
 that makes them great and sacred in the eyes of the 
 world.* 
 
 That Some of the Precepts of International Law 
 ARE Natural 
 
 Writers of the English school f have long been ac- 
 customed to regard all international law as wholly and 
 exclusively a result of treaty, agreement, or under- 
 standing between different States. AU international 
 laws, they suggest, are based on treaty, express or im- 
 plied, that is, they are either explicitly formulated in a 
 treaty drawn up by representatives of the States and 
 agreed to on both sides, or they are so widely accepted 
 and acted on by States as to give positive encourage- 
 ment to the assumption that they will continue to be 
 acted upon in the future as well as in the past. All 
 the rules of international law, it is maintained, can be 
 shown to depend on covenant or agreement of either 
 of these two kinds. What is spoken of as natural inter- 
 
 • Men entertaining this view of treaties are to be found, not in one, 
 bit in every nation. It is only when the interests of themselves and 
 the nation to which they belong are affected that horror is professed, 
 and vehement expression given to theories of an opposite kind. 
 
 •f See Lawrence, " Principles of International Law," p. i6. Very 
 often this view of international law is implied rather than expressly 
 stated. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 641 
 
 tiational law, i,e. a body of rules that are obligatory on 
 a State antecedently to its own acceptance of them, 
 and which would continue to be obligatory whether 
 States continued to accept them or not, is regarded by 
 this school of writers as a pure chimera, unknown to 
 the science of law, and whoUy unnecessary for regulating 
 the relations of States in their mutual dealings. 
 
 Now this view of the character and origin of inter- 
 national law it is necessary to disprove before going 
 further with our present work, first, because it under- 
 mines the firm foundations of international law, and if 
 applied in practice would render aU understanding and 
 peaceful communication between States impossible ; 
 and, secondly, because it is obviously opposed to reason 
 and the universally admitted principles of morals. 
 
 That a system of international law based exclusively 
 on treaty, and independent of all natural principle, 
 would be bankrupt and without foundation, and value- 
 less as regulating the relations of States, is clear from 
 the very nature of treaties themselves. The binding-force 
 of treaties cannot depend on treaty. If it did, every 
 treaty imposing terms on the opposing parties would 
 itself presuppose another treaty binding to the fulfil- 
 ment of those terms ; that again would presuppose 
 another, and so on without end. Unless there was a 
 law of nature imposing an obligation of fidelity to 
 treaties, treaties as valid acts could never begin, they 
 could never acquire validity or binding force ; and in 
 these circumstances, as we have already said, the only 
 question which a State could reasonably be expected 
 to entertain in regard to treaties which it is tempted to 
 violate would be the question whether, having violated 
 them, it would be strong enough to defy the hostility 
 of those States with which it had broken faith. 
 
 Of course, it is to be admitted that nations do often 
 break faith with one another, and depend on the strength 
 of their arms in reckoning the consequences. But it is 
 one thing to take account of the fact that nations often 
 
 VOL. 11 — 41 
 
642 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 do wrong and that force is often more relied on than 
 right ; it is another thing to claim that there are no 
 natural rights between States, no rights which States 
 are bound to recognise whether they will or will not, 
 and that in violating her engagements with others a 
 State violates no sacred principle by which all States 
 are bound. And that is, in effect, what the present 
 theory amounts to. It is a theory to which no responsible 
 ruler would dare to give public utterance, so evidently 
 is it opposed to the conscience of the nations ; it is a 
 theory which is publicly repudiated by all men when 
 their own country has suffered wrong at the hands of 
 another more powerful State ; it is repudiated even by 
 those who freely violate treaty obligations, in the efforts 
 by which they attempt to prove that, before their own 
 course was taken, the treaty had already fallen through, 
 through violation of it on the other side. 
 
 But our chief aim in the present section is to show 
 that the theory that all international law is based on 
 treaty, and that there are no international laws binding 
 by nature itself, is erroneous and opposed to the 
 principles of human reason. This we shall show in the 
 course of the following series of arguments : — 
 
 (i) This theory is based on the erroneous assumption 
 that all rights are founded on State authority,* from 
 which it is concluded that, since States are independent 
 of one another and there is no single overruling State 
 to determine the rights of all others, international rights 
 can depend on nothing else than agreement or treaty 
 between different States. .Now this theory we have 
 
 * Indeed, it might safely be said that the present theory is only 
 an extension of the view which denies the existence of a iaw of nature 
 in any department of human action For our arguments establishing 
 the existence of a natural law of good and evil, see Vol. I. ch. iv. 
 See also p. 638 of present vol. for our criticism of the view expressed 
 by Lawrence and others that the natural law expresses an " aspiration " 
 only and not a reality. The moral natural law expresses the fullest 
 realities, because it expresses the sternest necessities of nature. ■ 
 
LNTERNATIONAL LAW 643 
 
 considered already at some length in an earlier chapter.* 
 We showed that there are innumerayie rights -which 
 depend, not on State authority but on natural law, such 
 as the right of husbands and wives to fidelity, of parents 
 to the respect of their children, of a man to help in 
 extreme necessity, of owners to their property, and, in 
 particular, owners from whom property has been stolen 
 but who, nevertheless, cannot prove the crime. This 
 right cannot depend on anything else than nature. We 
 instanced also the right of the State itself to make laws 
 curtailing the liberty of its subjects, a right which itself 
 precedes all ordinances of the State and, therefore, 
 could not depend upon State enactment of any kind. 
 
 Depending, therefore, as it does, on an assumption 
 which is wholly false and opposed to all admitted belief, 
 the theory that there are no natural international laws, 
 independent of positive treaty or agreement, is to be 
 rejected as without foundation, and opposed to the ad- 
 mitted principles of human reason. 
 
 (2) Were the State a purely artificial institution and 
 not natural, it might be possible to assume that inter- 
 national law had no dependence on nature, but rested 
 entirely upon human consent. But we saw in our 
 opening chapter on the State that the State is from 
 nature, that it is an institution required by nature, and 
 possessed of a special natural purpose and character. 
 It must, therefore, have special natural requirements 
 in regard to, and definite natural relations with other 
 States ; and, therefore, it has a natural right to the 
 fulfilment of those requirements and a natural duty to 
 observe those relations. It is evident, therefore, that 
 there are in existence certain natural laws, defining the 
 rights and duties of States in regard to one another. 
 
 (3) That there exists a large body of positive laws, 
 regulating the relations of States, will be admitted by 
 all. Now, it is possible to show that this body of positive 
 laws essentially presupposes other laws that are not 
 
 * Vol. I. ch. XX 
 
644 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 positive, i.e. depending upon State enactment or agree- 
 ment, but that are from nature itself and are, therefore, 
 natural laws. For, like the free actions of men, so all 
 positive laws wiU be found always to proceed from cer- 
 tain natural necessities which they are devised to satisfy 
 or fulfil. Men eat because there is in them a natural 
 appetite for food. They live together because of man's 
 natural desire for society. The State enacts certain 
 sanitary laws because certain things are naturally 
 necessary for health, and health is itself a natural 
 necessity. It is inconceivable that any ruler would 
 introduce laws into his dominion that were purely 
 artificial, that did not represent in some way, or go to 
 fulfil in some way, some natural requirement, however 
 general and indeterminate.* In the same way, all 
 positive international laws depending on treaties and the 
 understandings of nations, will be found to represent 
 some natural requirement in the relations of States, 
 and, therefore, some general natural international law 
 which the positive law is meant to determine and fulfil. 
 
 The preceding three arguments are a -priori and general 
 in character. The following two arguments which are 
 of a more concrete nature will be found not only to 
 make clear the existence of a natural international law, 
 but will also bring us nearer to solving the problem to 
 be treated in the next section, viz. what are the rules 
 of international law that are to be regarded as natural ? 
 
 (4) It is clear that every individual has a natural 
 right in justice to his life, his property, his character, 
 and that any violation of these rights constitutes an 
 offence against the nat;iral law. The existence of a 
 natural law of justice as between individual and indi- 
 vidual is undoubted, and from it we can deduce a 
 natural law of justice as between States, or a natural 
 international law of justice. For the natural law, which 
 forbids injury as between one individual and another, 
 
 * For the two modes in which positive law depends on natural, 
 gee Vol. I. ch, xix. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 645 
 
 is not dependent on limitations of space and time ; a 
 man has a natural right to his life not»because he is an 
 Englishman or a Frenchman or a German, but because 
 he is a man, a natural person ; and, therefore, a man's 
 duty to respect the lives of others, is valid and binding 
 not only in regard to persons living under the same 
 government as himself, but in regard to other persons 
 also ; an Englishman has no more right to kiU a German 
 or an Italian than to kill one of his own countrymen. 
 The relations of justice obtain between human persons 
 as such, between all persons. They do not end at the 
 boundaries of States. The boundaries of States have 
 no significance whatsoever in determining the funda- 
 mental relations of justice. They hold for men separated 
 by the widest distances and living under the most 
 diverse governments. 
 
 And if relations of justice obtain between individuals 
 of different States, so, also, they obtain between these 
 States themselves. The State, like the individual, is a 
 natural person, a moral person of course, yet a person 
 and natural — naturally incorporated. States are equal 
 to and independent of one another ; and just as indi- 
 viduals, because they are equal and independent, have 
 rights as against one another, so also States have rights 
 as against one another. States, for instance, being 
 equal, they cannot use one another for their own pleasure 
 and convenience or otherwise treat one another as 
 subordinate. And these rights belong to States from 
 nature, and they bind even before they are agreed to or 
 recognised by the body of nations. 
 
 And what we have said of justice holds true also of 
 the other social virtues, such as benevolence or charity. 
 The individual is bound to love his fellowmen not merely 
 as Englishmen or Frenchmen or because they live under 
 the same government as himself, but as men, and because 
 all form one human family living under the same Supreme 
 Ruler and destined for one home and end. And just as 
 there are laws of charity obtaining between the subjects 
 
646 , THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of different States, so there are laws of charity obtaining 
 between States as such. A State, for instance, is under 
 an obligation to help another in distress. It is an 
 obligation which is subject to many conditions. It is 
 not an indefeasible duty like that of justice. But, 
 given the required conditions, it is a duty naturally 
 binding upon States, just as charity, as between indi- 
 viduals, is binding and natural. 
 
 From the foregoing line of reasoning it is evident that 
 some of the precepts of international law are natural 
 and not dependent on mere agreement or treaty. 
 
 (5) Though many of the rules of international law 
 have sprung out of contract between different States, 
 some of the more important and sacred laws have never 
 been made the subject of agreement or treaty. On the 
 contrary, they are universally accepted without need of 
 covenant or arrangement of any kind. Such, for instance, 
 is the law that no State should wantonly destroy the 
 property or the inhabitants of another. This funda- 
 mental law of international morality is accepted by all, 
 and is recognised as binding on all States independently 
 of their own acceptance of it. It is a law which all 
 States recognise as one that they are bound to and should 
 accept, and, therefore, for validity it does not depend 
 upon its being accepted by the body of nations. The 
 assertion, therefore, of Mr. Lawrence that laws of this 
 kind are not laws until they have " met with general 
 acceptance and been incorporated into the usages of 
 States " is wholly groundless. The fact that these laws 
 are not embodied in treaties or other international 
 instrument, is itself proof positive that these laws are 
 not in need of being incorporated in written documents 
 or accepted by covenant, in order to be recognised as 
 binding upon all. 
 
 There are, therefore, certain natural international 
 laws determining some of the relations of States, inde- 
 pendently of treaties or the usages of society. 
 
 Jhe whole preceding line of reasoning will be made 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 647 
 
 more intelligible and explicit in the following important 
 section, in which we attempt to deduce the chief inter- 
 national laws or principles of law that we accept as 
 natural. 
 
 Ak Enumeration of the Principal Natural Laws 
 Governing International Relations 
 
 We shall here attempt to set forth, not in full detail, 
 but yet in some kind of concrete form, the more im- 
 portant provisions of natural international law, first in 
 , regard to justice, and secondly in regard to benevolence 
 or charity. 
 
 A, international justice 
 
 Justice * as obtaining between individuals is based on 
 the t natural juridical equality of all individuals as men. 
 Individuals regarded as men J are naturally equal because 
 they have the same natural final end.§ Juridical in- 
 equalities arise from the fact that the end of one thing 
 is contained in or subordinated to the end of another, 
 as, e.g. in a workshop where the end of the foreman is 
 the production of the whole work, whereas the mechanics 
 subject to him are entrusted with the production of a 
 particular part only. Where the end is the same, 
 juridical inequality, i.e. the relation of subject and 
 ruler cannot arise. On this fundamental equality of 
 all with all, regarded as men, is based the law of indi- 
 vidual justice. No man may lawfully interfere with 
 
 * We speak here of commutative justice only. 
 
 t See p. 81 and foil. 
 
 i Ruler and subject are unequal as ruler and subject ; but as men 
 they are equal. 
 
 § And as we have already seen, I 53, they have the same natural 
 final end because they have the same natural capacities with the 
 same functions and natural objects. In general the end of anything, 
 e.g. of a plant or of the heart or of the eye is determined by its functions 
 and the object it attains. For a fuller account of the nature and 
 foundations of justice see p, 81 of present volume. 
 
648 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 another or with his property, or treat another as means 
 to himself or his own convenience by attempting to 
 exercise control over that other, or interfering with 
 his freedom in any way. To do so would be to treat 
 him not as an equal but as a subordinate. This is one of 
 the first laws of justice obtaining between individuals. 
 
 In the same way each State is juridically the equal 
 of every other, since States have all the same end (viz, 
 to promote the welfare of their peoples). Each State 
 is a person (a moral person) sovereign and independent, 
 deriving its jurisdiction from its own nature and the 
 Author of nature, and not from anj^ other State ; and, 
 therefore, no State is subordinate to another or may be 
 treated as subordinate. 
 
 Following on this conception of the juridical equality 
 of States there emerges a number of rights in natural 
 justice, which, since they are in principle accepted by 
 all, need to be mentioned only very briefly in the present 
 work. 
 
 The three chief rights in justice enjoyed by every 
 State are (i) the right of existence and self-maintenance ; 
 (2) the right of property ; (3) the right of the free 
 exercise of its powers. A word on each of these. 
 
 (i) The right of existence and self-preservation. 
 
 The right to existence comprises the right, first, of 
 independence — no nation has a right to subjugate another 
 unless it is injured in some way by the other * ; secondly, 
 of integrity, personal and territorial — no nation has a 
 right under normal circumstances to deprive another 
 nation of a portion of its subjects, or to take a part of 
 its territory ; thirdly, of peaceable existence and the 
 loyal co-operation of its citizens — no nation has a right 
 to stir up sedition amongst the citizens of another Statu. 
 All these rights we comprise under the general right of 
 self-preservation. 
 
 * An<? then only under special conditions to be described later, 
 
INTERNATIONAL LA\\' 649 
 
 This right of self-preservation belonging to every 
 State gives rise also to a right to the use. of the means 
 necessary to self-preservation. Some of these means 
 are (a) the right of war in defence of one's rights, (6) the 
 right in time of peace to set up an army and a fleet, to 
 construct forts, and in general to equip itself remotely 
 for war. All these are remote means, and every country 
 has- a righ't to use the remote means of self-defence 
 even in time of peace. It has no right, however, in 
 time of -peace to put into requisition the proximate 
 means of self-defence such as mobilising troops or casting 
 large numbers of troops on the frontier ; such an act 
 is rightly interpreted in international law as itself an 
 act of war, and is, therefore, illegitimate and disallowed 
 by natural international law. 
 
 It will be obvious that in all these cases a State can 
 exercise its rights of self-preservation and expansion 
 only on condition that, in doing so, it injures the rights 
 neither of other States nor of individuals belonging to 
 other States. A State could not seize either on the 
 warships or the merchant service of another neutral 
 power in order to supplement its own resources in time 
 of war. 
 
 (2) The right of property. 
 
 By the property of the State is understood its property, 
 first, in the strict sense, i.e. State-owned property, like 
 warships, guns, etc.; secondly, property in a wide sense, 
 i.e. the property of its citizens. The citizens being a 
 part of the State, their property is also subject in some 
 degree to the whole of which they are the part. In a 
 wide sense we shall also regard the territory of the State 
 as part of its property. 
 
 The State can acquire and own property by natural 
 law just as the individual can, for the State, like the 
 individual, is a person — not a physical person, but a 
 moral person, and property is an inherent right of 
 
650 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 personality. The titles also by which the State acquires 
 property are, with the obvious exceptions of conquest 
 on the one side and inheritance on the other, the same 
 as those obtaining in the case of individual ownership. 
 They include the titles of occupancy, accretion, cession, 
 prescription. 
 
 Under this heading of the right to property we propose to 
 discuss very briefly the following three special questions : 
 (a) the question of State-occupancy ; (b) the question of 
 the right of civihsed races to take possession of territories 
 occupied by uncivilised tribes ; (c) the question of the right 
 to appropriate a portion of the open sea. 
 
 (a) The State, by universal admission, can lay hold of and 
 set up property in territory not owned by another State. 
 The conditions of valid occupancy in this case have already 
 been enumerated.* For instance, the act must be such as 
 is fitted to convey to others the intention of the occupying 
 State. It is generally expressed by the two acts of annexa- 
 tion and settlement, i.e. the planting of a flag in sign of 
 ownership, and the actual and permanent settlement of 
 officials in the newly acquired territory in sign of actual 
 use. Again, a State can occupy by natural law only so much 
 territory as it is really able and is now prepared to control. 
 For this reason we saw that according to the positive inter- 
 national law f the occupation of a certain stretch of coast 
 bestows ownership over such territory as is drained by 
 the rivers emptying themselves into the sea along this 
 stretch of coast, such being the extent of territory which 
 is supposed to faU under the effective control of a power 
 in possession of the coast. 
 
 It is important to remember that for occupancy on the 
 part of the State mere discovery is not sufficient in natural 
 law. The mere fact that an individual discovers a stretch of 
 unoccupied territory does indeed confer upon that individual 
 a right of private individual ownership over portion of that 
 territory, provided the other necessary conditions of occupancy 
 are fulfilled. But it confers no right of State ownership. A 
 State assumes no responsibility for territory discovered by 
 one of its subjects, and can claim no ownership or juris- 
 
 • p. 139. 
 
 ■f which here is nothing more than a concrete application of a 
 purely natural principle. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 651 
 
 diction in respect of it, unless by an express act it proclaims 
 its intention to possess and control. Even, therefore, when 
 territory has been discovered by the subjects of a particular 
 State, and before that State has assumed possession by a 
 formal act of occupancy, it is open to any other State to 
 take public possession of it, full recognition of course being 
 given to the private rights accruing to the discoverer from 
 his act of successful private occupancy. 
 
 (6) We are led naturally at this point to consider the 
 important question of the right of civilised communities 
 to occupy the territory inhabited by uncivilised races. Here 
 we have to distinguish three cases, (i) A stretch of country 
 that is merely over-run by some nomadic horde may properly 
 be treated as a res nullius and taken into ownership by any 
 State. (2) An xmcivilised people in occupation of a fixed 
 territory may be either so small or so devoid of organisation 
 as to fall completely outside of the category of the State, 
 for which, as we have already seen, a certain degree of 
 organisation, economic and juridical, is necessary. In that 
 case any civilised community may by an act of occupancy 
 take possession of the territory in question — and for the 
 reason already given. In every territory two ownerships 
 are recognised, individual private ownership, which is pro- 
 prietory ownership proper, and the ownership of public con- 
 trol or public jurisdiction exercised by the State. Territory 
 which is occupied by an uncivilised community of the kind 
 described, though privately owned by that community or 
 the individuals composing it, is not under the jurisdiction 
 of any State, and it is, therefore, open to occupancy in so 
 far as public jurisdiction is concerned. But on no account 
 should the existing private rights of individuals be interfered 
 with in the case, it being undeniable that the members of 
 the smallest and least developed savage communities hold 
 their property on titles quite as sound and compelling as 
 those of civilised men. (3) Where, however, a community, 
 accounted uncivilised, possesses the numbers and the degree 
 of organisation required for a State in its technical sense, 
 where, for instance, a community, although not received into 
 the comity of nations nor recognised as a Power by other States, 
 is yet so organised politically, i.e. is so provided with the 
 necessary public organs th^t other States could enter into 
 public relations with it, if they chose to do so, then occupancy 
 becomes unlawful, and invasion, unless justified on other 
 titles would be wholly at variance with natural justice, 
 
652 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 (c) Next comes the question whether and to what extent 
 the sea can be appropriated. Whilst not insisting that par- 
 titionment and appropriation of the ocean is wholly opposed 
 to natural law, our position in relation to this question is 
 that such partitionment and appropriation cannot be said 
 to be favoured by natural law and that there are the strongest 
 natural reasons why private appropriation of the seas should 
 be forbidden by positive international agreement. 
 
 Our contention here relates to the open sea and ocean 
 only. That enclosed waters, like lakes and rivers, and also 
 the marginal seas, easily and profitably lend themselves to 
 appropriation, will readily be conceded by all. Their close 
 relation to the land brings them wholly within the control 
 of man : and capacity to use and control is, as we saw, a prime 
 necessity of ownership ; also the uses and need of ownership 
 over those waters will be apparent to all. But from in- 
 numerable points of view appropriation in the case of the 
 open ocean is found to be objectionable. In the first place, 
 it would be exceedingly difficult to determine property in 
 the case of the open ocean. The waters themselves are 
 fluid, not fixed, and, therefore, the various territorial con- 
 fines could only be marked out by imaginary lines lying 
 between fixed landmarks : on the other hand, the land- 
 marks determining these lines might often be exceedingly 
 distant from one another so as to render the marking off 
 by their means of different zones of ownership an almost 
 impossible task. Again, to keep seas of the kind in per- 
 manent control would be well-nigh impossible, and would 
 certainly require more warships than it would be worth 
 even the most powerful nation's while to devote to such an 
 apparently barren purpose. Thirdly, the reasons for owner- 
 ship which obtain in the case of the land do not hold good 
 for the high seas. The land is brought under the control 
 of particular governments for two principal reasons ; first, 
 because it is the habitat of the race, and, secondly, because 
 it is rendered productive by human labour, and allows of 
 the harvest being reaped in every case by the same hand 
 by which it is sown. But the high seas are in the first place 
 essentially pilgrim places, on which people are not meant to 
 rest ; and, secondly, in so far as they are productive, they are 
 in little or no need of human labour, whilst, even if labour 
 is spent upon them, the harvest will generally be found, not, 
 in the place where the labour has been expended, but in 
 other and probably far-distant regions. Fourthly, the open 
 unappropriated ocean is necessary as the great highway 
 of commerce between one nation and anotjier. The natjong 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 653 
 
 of the world are not to be regarded as isolated units. Be- 
 tween them they make up one vast commercial society, 
 each being dependent on all the rest, and the open ocean 
 both symbolises this unity, and is the chief promotive con- 
 dition of intercourse between the parts of the social whole. 
 
 Though, therefore, the law of the open sea is not to be 
 described as an absolutely indispensable part of the law of 
 nature, still it is a law which is highly commended by nature 
 as most in accordance with the natural requirements. It 
 certainly ought not to be spoken of as a purely arbitrary 
 principle * and it has been fully received into international 
 law. 
 
 (3) The right of free action. 
 
 The third right in justice we have to consider is the 
 right of the State to free action and development. It 
 has a right to vary its own constitution, no matter how 
 inconvenient such variation may prove to other nations, 
 to enter fully into commercial relations with others, 
 to trade with and refuse to trade with whom it likes, 
 to give preterences to some nations over others, imposing 
 what tariffs it likes in any case. In general, any act 
 which is one of pure benevolence cannot be imposed by 
 one State on another as an pbligation in justice, or 
 insisted on as a right. 
 
 The State has also a right to make treaties with other 
 States and to carry on what negotiations it pleases ; 
 and other States have no right to interfere in these 
 negotiations or to attempt to direct or end them, unless 
 some right in justice on the part of the intervening State 
 comes into question. States, too, have no right to 
 prevent expansion or development on the part of another 
 State on the mere plea that, in expanding, such other 
 State threatens to become a serious rival in commerce, 
 in military efficiency, or in world-power generally. Just 
 as no individual has a right to interfere with another 
 because that other threatens to become a serious com- 
 petitor with him in the race for some of the goods of 
 
 * It has so been described by Hall, op. cii. p. 298 
 
654 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 life, so also every State has a right to the full and 
 free development of its own powers, provided that 
 no actual or virtual aggression is committed against 
 other States. 
 
 B. INTERNATIONAL BENEVOLENCE OR CHARITY 
 
 Having considered the leading natural justice-relations 
 obtaining between States, we now proceed to consider 
 certain international rights and duties of charity. Some 
 writers, who are fully prepared to admit relations of 
 justice between one State and another, are reluctant to 
 admit obligations in charity, this virtue, they contend, 
 being wholly foreign to the character and aim of States, 
 their character being that of sovereign and independent 
 societies not needing charity, and their aim being that 
 of warding off aggression and extending their own 
 influence in the world. But States do not cease to be 
 human merely because of their character as fully equipped 
 sovereign societies. On the contrary, it is because States 
 are perfect societies, self-sufficient and sui juris, that 
 they assume so much of the character and nature of 
 individual persons who also are independent and sui 
 juris, and on account of this likeness the laws obtaining 
 between States are largely identical with those that 
 determine the right relations of individuals. Just, 
 therefore, as individuals are bound to one another by 
 laws of charity, i.e. of benevolence, because of their 
 likeness to one another in their common human nature, * 
 so also States are bound by duties of charity because 
 they are all members of the family of human kind. 
 There will, of course, be differences in the requirements 
 of the law of charity in the two cases. A State, for 
 instance, could not lawfully surrender its independence 
 for the sake of another State as one individual may lay 
 down his life for another, the first duty of a State being 
 
 * See Vol. I. p. 320, 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 655 
 
 the duty of promoting the good of its own people. But, 
 for the most part, the rules of charity obtaining between 
 States are identical with those obtaining between indi- 
 viduals. Just, for instance, as individuals may aid, 
 and, if they can do so without grave inconvenience,* 
 ought to aid one another when in distress, so one State 
 may, and where no grave inconvenience is feared, ought 
 to come to the aid of another State in its hour of need. 
 There is not a single reason obtaining for the existence 
 of rights and duties of this kind between one individual 
 and another that does not hold also as between States. 
 Both are human, both are persons sui juris and inde- 
 pendent, in both sets of cases each unit is allied to every 
 other in the possession of the same human nature, and, 
 as we saw in an earlier chapter of this work, it is this 
 common possession which forms the essential condition 
 and ground of charity or of benevolence. 
 
 The principle of non-intervention. 
 
 The view expressed above brings us into direct opposi- 
 tion to the well-known theory of non-intervention in 
 international affairs, the theory, namely, that every 
 State has a right to follow what course it likes with its 
 own subjects without interference from other States, 
 and also that third parties have no right, except when 
 . their own interests are affected, to interfere in or attempt 
 to regulate or control the actions of one State in regard 
 to another State, no matter what may be the rights and 
 wrongs of these actions and relations, f Now, this 
 theory is utterly opposed to practice and to reason. It 
 is opposed to practice since, as Taylor writes, the right of 
 intervention " has been enforced during a long period of 
 
 * Justice obliges even in the presence of grave inconvenience ; 
 charity, speaking generally, does not bind where grave inconvenience 
 is involved. 
 
 t A much broader definition of intervention is given by some 
 writers, e.g. by Taylor. Intervention is by these defined as inter- 
 ference with another State for. any purpose, even that of se;/-defence. 
 
656 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 time in a series of cases, some of which are now generally 
 accepted as authoritative precedents " ; and it is opposed 
 to reason because, as we have already observed, the same 
 reasons that hold for benevolence and charity amongst 
 individuals hold also for the case of States. Just, there- 
 fore, as one individual has a right to intervene to pro- 
 tect another from unjust attack, so also one State has a 
 right to intervene in defence of another weaker State 
 which is being unjustly used by a more powerful State, 
 and also even in defence of the subjects of a particular 
 State when their own government is subjecting them to 
 an intolerable tyranny. It can also act in defence of 
 another government which asks for aid against anarchy 
 and wanton revolution on the part of its own subjects. 
 And the ground of this right of intervention must not 
 be mistaken. By Taylor the right to protect a State 
 unjustly molested by another is regarded as conferred 
 in some implicit way by the whole body of States as 
 possessing some kind of authority over each, and in 
 particular as possessing the right to punish acts that 
 are contrary to international law, whilst the right to 
 help in putting down tyrannies and revolutions is, he 
 informs us, given in the right of the whole body of 
 nations to prevent scandal in their midst. Now, that 
 the comity of nations is possessed of authority of any 
 kind over each sovereign State and is empowered to 
 " punish " violations of international law on the part 
 of any one nation, in the sense that a superior punishes 
 an inferior, is a wholly unwarrantable assumption, 
 grounded on no principle or fact of political science, 
 whilst the " scandal " theory of intervention is simply 
 an amusing fiction. The right and duty of intervention 
 are a part of the law of charity and benevolence, which, 
 equally well with justice, is to be regarded as grounded 
 in and guaranteed by our human nature. It is, there- 
 fore, a right conferred by our human nature, and by 
 the Author of nature, and not by enactments, express 
 or implied, on the part of other States. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 657 
 
 On Treaties 
 
 Treaties are public compacts entered into by one 
 State with another or with a number of States. They 
 differ, first, from the private contracts which one 
 government makes with another, for instance, a con- 
 tract for the purchase of war materials, for which reasoii 
 we say that treaties are public contracts ; secondly, 
 from contracts made by the State with private indi- 
 viduals ; thirdly, from concordats, which are solemn, 
 binding engagements entered into between the State 
 and the Church.* 
 
 Treaties are effected by the heads of States, or by some 
 part of the supreme governing authority specially 
 designated in the constitution as empowered to effect 
 treaties. In America, for instance, all treaties require 
 the consent of the Senate or Upper House. Sometimes 
 the provisional concluding of a treaty is entrusted to 
 diplomats or plenipotentiaries delegated by the sovereign 
 authority. But a treaty to be binding must be ratifi''.d 
 by the sovereign authorities or, as we have said, bj' that 
 body to whom the constitution and sovereign body 
 entrusts this function. 
 
 The conditions required for a valid treaty are for the 
 most part identical with those which determine the 
 validity of ordinary contracts. Treaties, for instance, 
 that offend against the natural law, and in particular 
 the natural international law, are quite invalid. Thur 
 
 * As head of the papal dominions, the Pope could make treaties 
 with other governments ; as head of the Church he enters into con- 
 cordats with them. Writers on one side and the other have attempted 
 to maintain that concordats are not binding contracts. Some jurists 
 would exempt the pvince from all obligation, some canonists the Pope. 
 Both opinions are absurd. What is the meaning of such agreements 
 if they are not binding on the two parties ? Some writers, again, main- 
 tain that concordats, though strictly binding on both parties, are not 
 binding in justice because of the inequality of the two parties. Such 
 technicalities it would be useless to attempt to examine here Con- 
 cordats are certainly binding in conscience on both sides, and they 
 certainly are of their nature contractual acts. They have the same 
 binding force, therefore, as treaties, though they are distinct from 
 treaties. 
 
 VOL. 11 — 42 
 
658 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a treaty having for its object the unjust subjugation of a 
 particular nation would not be valid. 
 
 Two special questions arise in regard to the binding 
 character of treaties . (i) do they bind when made 
 under duress ? (2) when do they cease to bind ? 
 
 (i) We must here distinguish between two cases. 
 First, a treaty made under duress, say, made under 
 threat of war or forced on a defeated belligerent, can 
 hardly be regarded as binding, or at least should be re- 
 garded as rescindible,* if the conditions imposed are 
 manifestly and flagrantly unjust, for instance, if they 
 are such as to reduce a State to the condition of absolute 
 and irretrievable penury,f and the duress is extreme. 
 Injustices of this kind receive no character of sacredness 
 from the fact that they are perpetrated by way of treaty, 
 and, therefore, they can hardly be regarded as binding 
 the affected nation in commutative justice. It is true, 
 as GrotiusJ (who defends the opposite opinion) main- 
 tains, that the doctrine that declares such treaties 
 invalid is not without its dangers for the peace of the 
 world, since it might be too largely availed of by rulers, 
 more bent upon the pursuit of their own interests than 
 the interests of justice. But, as one eminent writer § 
 remarks, there is an opposed danger also to be considered, 
 the danger, viz. that if such treaties were generally 
 held to be valid the stronger States might lend them- 
 selves too easily to the practice of dealing unjustly 
 with the weaker and forcing unjust treaties on their 
 acceptance. Apart, however, altogether from the ques- 
 tion of possible misuse on either side, we have, as we 
 have shown, the strongest reason for believing on 
 intrinsic grounds in the invalidity of unjust treaties 
 made under duress ; but we repeat that, before this 
 
 * For rescission of treaties see p. 660.- 
 
 t On this see Schiffini, " PhUosophia Moralis," p. 606. Other 
 ■writers, like Hall and Lawrence, adhere to the view quoted from 
 Grotius above. 
 
 I De Jure Belb" et Pads, lib 3, c 19, n. 11. 
 
 § Schiffini, "j^Philosophia Moralis" 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 659 
 
 doctrine could be applied in a particular case, the con- 
 ditions which we have mentioned must b« most rigorously 
 fulfilled, viz. the duress should be extreme, the injustice 
 most grave and manifest, and, we may add, rescission 
 should only be attempted or invalidity assumed where 
 no other way is open to the party to escape the injustice 
 forced upon him. 
 
 Apart, however, from this very special case of unjust 
 treaties, other treaties imposed on a nation under duress, 
 say imposed on a defeated belligerent, or imposed under 
 threat of war, are to be regarded as valid and binding 
 in every case, provided that the parties who conclude 
 the treaty are personally free. A monarch or pleni- 
 potentiary threatened with torture or acting out of 
 fear for his personal safety, is not free personally, and 
 treaties forced on him under these circumstances would 
 not be valid. But if the framers of the treaty are 
 personally free the treaty is valid and binding in inter- 
 national law. In this the case of treaties differs from 
 that of the ordinary contract. For two reasons an 
 ordinary contract, if made under duress, is without 
 binding power ; first, because one of the parties to the 
 contract is personally unfree ; secondly, because it 
 would not be for the general good if such contracts were 
 held to be binding, they would be wrung out of defence- 
 less people on all occasions. Neither of these reasons 
 holds good in the case of treaties, the first because the 
 case has just been specially excluded by us ; the second, 
 because, if treaties made on occasion of war were not 
 binding, practically no treaties would be binding, and,, 
 besides, wars would be unending and the peaceful settle- 
 ment of public questions would become impossible. 
 
 (2) Treaties become extinct, first, when their objects 
 are satisfied ; secondly, when they bpcome void — and 
 they become void in several ways, e.g. by mutual con- 
 sent of the parties, by extinction of one of the parties 
 as a State, by execution having become impossible, 
 by the " express condition on which the continuance 
 
66o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of the obligation of the treaty is made to depend " 
 ceasing to exist, or, finally, by a treaty becoming incom- 
 patible with universally admitted international law. A 
 more difficult question arises in regard to the voidability 
 of treaties, i'.e. the case in which treaties, valid at the 
 time of conclusion, and continuing to be valid until 
 repudiated by one of the parties, may lawfully be so 
 repudiated. The case, of course, is not considered in 
 positive international law ; by one writer * it is even 
 said to be a case that transcends law ; and certainly it 
 is very difficult to lay down any kind of general rules 
 that will be of use to one in particular cases. But all 
 admit that there are cases where treaties may be re- 
 garded as voidable,! and so some general rules, however 
 abstract, must be available for determining when a 
 party may declare a treaty void, i.e. may declare itself 
 " freed from the obligation under which it has placed 
 itself." {a) This right, it is generally admitted, is 
 acquired when an implied condition of its obligatory 
 force at the time of the making of the treaty ceases to 
 hold good. For instance, where one party has failed to 
 fulfil his obligation in regard at least to the main object 
 of the treaty, the other may rightly regard itself as 
 justified in repudiating the treaty even in its entirety. 
 Again, a treaty becomes voidable " so soon as it is 
 dangerous to the life or incompatible wiih the inde- 
 pendence of a State | provided that its injurious effects 
 were not intended," or contemplated as possibilities, 
 " by the contracting parties at the time of its con- 
 clusion." § If as a result, for instance, of an entirely 
 
 * Lawrence,. 0^. cit. p. 328. 
 
 t Ordinary contracts when voidable are extinguished generally 
 by the civil courts ; but in the case of treaties, there being no common 
 government with jurisdiction over the parties, it is left to the parties 
 themselves in certain )ustif3nng circumstances to break away. 
 
 J As Taylor writes (cp. itt. p. 40) "if a treaty is consistent at 
 the outset with the right of self-preservation it is an implied con- 
 dition that it shall remain so." 
 
 § Hall, op. cit. p. 327. For a full treatment of this question see 
 Hall, also Taylor, op. cit p 400. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 66l 
 
 new and wholly uncontemplated set of circumstances 
 observance of a treaty would involve Hhe extinction of 
 a State or complete loss of independence, such treaty 
 might justly be repudiated by the affected State. But 
 in its very terms a treaty might be intended to concern 
 the loss or extinction of itself, i.e. the merging of itself 
 in another State, or it might by its very nature imply 
 the possibility of the occurrence of circumstances in- 
 volving its own destruction, and in that case the ob- 
 ligatory force of a treaty would still continue, even on 
 the occurrence of those circumstances. For instance, a 
 treaty made to avoid the use of poisonous gases in war, 
 or to observe the neutrality of neutralised countries in 
 time of war, must still be regarded as binding, no matter 
 how great the advantage attaching to the violation of 
 such treaties, or how complete the defeat threatened 
 on either side. Treaties of the kind are made for the 
 very circumstances here contemplated, they are brought 
 into operation rather than extinguished by the oc- 
 currence of these circumstances, and, therefore, a State 
 should suffer any loss rather than attempt to violate 
 these treaties. 
 
 But apart from these cases, i.e. the case in which 
 dismemberment is itself the obiect of the treaty, or the 
 case in which circumstances that might possibly involve 
 the greatest disasters to a nation, are themselves the 
 circumstances for which the treaty purposes to provide, 
 a treaty is to be regarded as voidable where observance 
 of it would involve the destruction of a nation or com- 
 plete loss of dependence. Treaties are made for a 
 future that supposes the independence and sovereignty 
 of each party to the treaty, and, therefore, they become 
 voidable under circumstances involving discontinuance 
 of these. 
 
 (6) Further than this it is not possible to go in regard 
 to the question of the voidability of treaties. Such 
 theories as that a treaty ceases to be obligatory when it 
 
662 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 becomes unduly onerous to one of the parties,* or when 
 it proves incompatible with the general good of a State, 
 could not be too strongly disowned and repudiated. A 
 nation might, indeed, be bound in charity and humanity 
 to reconsider, and if possible to temper, conditions of 
 agreements that have proved to be much more onerous 
 to the other party to the contract than was at first ex- 
 pected. But in strict justice such agreements lose none 
 of their obligatory force by the occurrence of these un- 
 foreseen effects. And the reasons are obvious. First, all 
 contracts, whether of individuals or of States, involve, 
 and are understood to involve, the risk of possible loss 
 or disadvantage arising through variation in some one 
 or other of the circumstances attending their fulfilment. 
 Such risk is the price that all parties are prepared to 
 pay for the security as well as the definiteness and the 
 permanence of the obligation which the contract im- 
 poses. The man, for instance, who makes a contract 
 to buy coal at a certain price for a long period may 
 lose through the prices falling. But this risk is run for 
 the security afforded him against the possibility of rising 
 prices. And treaties are contracts and follow the 
 ordinary rules of contracts. Again, if States might 
 regard themselves as released from their public contracts 
 through even grave losses attendant on their fulfilment, 
 treaties would be repudiated every day, and would 
 lose, as instruments for promoting the peace of nations, 
 their whole effectiveness. And it is to be remembered 
 in this connection, that, to treaties, as a means of recon- 
 ciling international interests, there is no other alterna- 
 tive that can at present be looked on as practical 
 politics but that of \mending war, and the continued 
 tyranny of the strong over the weak. 
 
 * For these opinions see Taylor, op. cit. p. 402, and Hall, op. cit. 
 P- 328. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 663 
 
 On War 
 
 Definition. * 
 
 By war is meant a condition of armed active hostility 
 between two or more sovereign States. 
 
 In the first place, war is a conflict between sovereign 
 and independent States only. A State does not go to 
 war with individuals, or with peoples as opposed to 
 governments, or governments as opposed to peoples ; 
 it goes to war with a whole State, sovereign and inde- 
 pendent like itself.* Secondly, war is conducted by 
 force of arms. Mere commercial hostility and aggression 
 would not constitute a war. War is a trial of armed 
 strength between two States. Thirdly, mere preparation 
 for future aggression is not a war. War is essentially a 
 condition of actual hostility and conflict between rival 
 States. 
 
 The kinds of war. 
 
 Wars are just or unjust according as the conditions 
 necessary for justification, to be enumerated later, are 
 present or not. 
 
 Wars are also divided into defensive and offensive. 
 This distinction is of the utmost importance in relation 
 to the discussions to follow. Some writers use these 
 words to signify respectively — war on the side of the 
 State against which war is first declared, or first entered 
 upon, and war on the side of the State that first declares, 
 or first proceeds to wage it. But it is evident that in a 
 just war, and we are here supposing a war to be just, 
 the declaring or opening of war always presupposes some 
 previous hostile or unjust act on the part of the State 
 against which war is undertaken, and, therefore, a war 
 may be .defensive even on the side of the State that 
 declares war — it may be a defence against those acts, 
 
 * Civil wars are public conflicts only ; they are not wars in the 
 proper sense of the term 
 
664 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 of hostility and injustice that preceded and brought it 
 about, and that still continue in their effects. It is 
 better, therefore, to use the word defensive war to signify 
 a war undertaken in defence of the people, property, 
 or honour of the State. An offensive war will be a war 
 that presupposes no injury, and, in particular, a war 
 undertaken merely in order to injure or destroy a State, 
 or for purposes of erurichment at the expense of another 
 State. 
 
 Lawful war is always of the nature of defence. 
 
 Authorities are all agreed that a just war always 
 presupposes some dishonour or injury inflicted by one 
 of the belligerents ; they are agreed also that war is 
 undertaken on account of such dishonour or injury. In 
 a broad sense of the word, therefore, it can be main- 
 tained that every war is of its nature vindicative, in the 
 sense, viz. that it relates to a past offence or injury. 
 But it is necessary to come to some more definite con- 
 clusion than this, on the relation obtaining between war 
 and the offence or injury that brings it about. 
 
 Broadly speaking, there are only two views possible 
 with regard to the relation obtaining between a lawful 
 war and the injury that precedes and causes it. One 
 is the view that war, if it is not always punitive, at all 
 events may be funitive in character, that it may be 
 undertaken to -punish a delinquent State. The other 
 view is that war is always of its nature defensive, that it 
 is always undertaken in defence of the people, the 
 territory, the property, or the honour of a State — that 
 it is never undertaken in foenam* It is highly im- 
 portant, particularly on account of the consequences, 
 
 * Sometimes we speak of a war of retaliation. But retaliation 
 is either a puniihe act or an act undertaken to recover the equivalent 
 of what one has lost, in property or in honour In this latter sense 
 retaliation is an act of defence — defence of one's property or one's 
 horoui. Our claim remains, therefore, that punishment and "de- 
 fence ' are the only two possible theories. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 665 
 
 that we should come to a definite decision as to these 
 two rival views of the nature and purpoge of war. 
 
 Now that war 'is of its nature defensive and not 
 punitive is evident ; and it is proved by means of the 
 following arguments : — 
 
 (i) War is a fight between equals, neither of whom has 
 authority over the other, whereas punishment is in- 
 flicted by superior on inferior, by ruler on subject. 
 
 (2) When one man steals a hundred pounds from 
 another, the second has a right to recover this hundred 
 pounds. If he can do this without violence this is the 
 sole extent of his right.* If not, he may use violence 
 for the recovery of his property. So also it is agreed 
 by all that if one State captures the territory of another, 
 that other has a right to recover its territory ; but if 
 violence is not required for its recovery, as in the case 
 in which the delinquent State offers no resistance to its 
 recovery, then violence and war are not allowed, f On 
 the other hand, if war is necessary for the recovery of 
 the captured territory, it may lawfully be undertaken. 
 It is agreed also that when a nation has been dishonoured 
 it has a right to the recovery of its honour ; that if an 
 apology suffices for this end, this is the extent of the 
 right of the injured State, that if this is not sufficient, 
 and if war is the only means of recovering the national 
 honour, I then war is lawful. From all this it is evident 
 that war is not supposed to be undertaken in poenam 
 alterius, but in defence only. Were war punitive in 
 purpose it could be undertaken even when full compensa- 
 tion is offered by the delinquent State. War being 
 lawful only for the sake of recovering what has been 
 
 * He can, of course, appeal to the ruler to punish the thief. 
 
 t We suppose that a second invasion is not threatened by the 
 delinquent State, 
 
 } This end— the recovery ot the national honour — ^will easily be 
 understood by an example. If a man strikes me in the face and 
 then proceeds to walk away with his hands in his pockets, I am dis- 
 honoured by his act. But if he walks away instead, having received 
 a sound thrashing, my honour is restored. 
 
666 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 lost, its purpose can be nothing else than that of 
 defence. 
 
 (3^ If war could be waged for purposes of punishment 
 it would sometimes be lawful not only to wound enemy 
 combatants, but also to put the wounded to death. 
 But there is no nation so barbarous that it will not 
 defend itself against the charge of killing wounded 
 men. It is, therefore, the clear view of mankind ex- 
 pressed in acts of war that the only right which war 
 bestows on a belligerent is the right to put an enemy 
 out of action, to stop aggression ; that its right, there- 
 fore, is to defend itself against attack. It is because 
 war is essentially defensive that, as soon as the attack 
 is over, and no question of defence can further arise, 
 no further aggression can be undertaken. 
 
 (4) We cannot punish a man for an act, however 
 injurious, which is done in bona fide ; in other words we 
 can only punish a man who is formally guilty of a 
 criminal act. But one State can go to war with another 
 if it is clear that its own rights have been violated, 
 without thought of or care for the bona fides of that 
 other. If wars were disallowed through the bona fides 
 of the supposed offending party, few wars would be 
 allowed in natural law. 
 
 In a lawful war killing is indirect. 
 
 War being of its nature an act of defence,* it foUows 
 that killing in war is indirect and not direct. It is 
 never lawful to will directly a thing which is evil or 
 unlawful or disallowed ; but it is lawful under certain 
 conditions f to do an act, good or lawful in itself, for the 
 sake of the good consequences which it produces, even 
 though it is known that the same act will be attended 
 
 * i.e. defence either of the belligerent State itself or of some other. 
 Any nation when unjustly attacked may call on another State for 
 aid. This other State then enjoys the same right of violence against 
 the invader as is allowed to the injured State. 
 
 f See these conditions, vol. I. ch. ii. : • 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 667 
 
 by evil consequences also. In that case we are said 
 to will these evU consequences indirectly only. An 
 important application of this far-reaching principle was 
 found in the problem of killing an unjust aggressor in 
 self-defence. It is lawful to do such violence to an 
 unjust aggressor as is necessary in self-defence. Now the 
 one thing necessary in self-defence is to stop the aggres- 
 sion of the enemy, to render him incapable of further 
 aggression,* and to take such means as are in strictness 
 required for this. The means are — striking, wounding, 
 rendering him incapable of movement ; but killing as 
 such is never necessary. And, therefore, whilst it is 
 lawful to aim at wounding an unjust aggressor, at 
 wounding him even severely, it is not lawful to aim 
 at killing him. Of course, in the heat of the combat it 
 is not possible to discriminate between the things 
 which will wound only and the things which will kill, 
 but even here the principle holds that it is not lawful 
 to aim directly at the death of the aggressor. If, how- 
 ever, as a result of the quality and vigour of our defence, 
 the aggressor should meet, not with injury only, but 
 with death, his death is only indirectly attributable 
 to us, and our act is , still lawful and free from 
 guilt. 
 
 It is the same in the case of war. A nation goes to 
 ■yvar in self-defence. f For this, all that is necessary is 
 to break down the resistance of the enemy, to put him 
 out of action, and this, and what is necessary for this, 
 
 * i.e. on this occasion. You could not take means to render a 
 man incapable of attacking you twenty years hence or even six months 
 hence. One defends himself only against present aggression. See 
 vol. II. p. ipi. The reader should recall all that we have written on 
 the problem of killing in self-defence. 
 
 / t It must be remembered that the defence, spoken of here, is defence 
 against the wrong originally inflicted. A nation whose territory is 
 taken by another may go to war in defence of its right to that territory, 
 and if it meets with opposition on the part of the delinquent State 
 it may beat this opposition down by force of arms. This beating 
 down of the enemy forces is still part of our defence, just as striking 
 the thief who tries to hold on to stolen articles is part of the defence 
 of our property. 
 
668 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 a nation may aim directly at accomplishing. But 
 death as such is not necessary for this,* and, there- 
 fore, a nation may not aim directly at the death of the 
 enemy. If, however, as a result of our defence the 
 enemy should not merely fall, but be slain also, his 
 death is not to be attributed to us directly, and our 
 act still falls within the category of a blameless 
 defence. 
 
 Now, in actual battle it would be ridiculous to expect 
 a soldier to make this distinction and to use the instru- 
 ments of war in such a way as to wound only and not 
 to kill. But such precautions are possible in devising 
 and supplying the instruments of war. It is lawful to 
 supply any instrument of war that can be used for 
 bringing down an enemy, for wounding him, for knocking 
 ing him out of battle, such as swords, ordinary rifle- 
 bullets, shells. The natural law does not even prohibit 
 the use of asphyxiating gases.f since this weapon of 
 war, brutal as it is, is, nevertheless, compatible with 
 wounding and not killing the enemy. But the natural 
 law forbids the direct aiming at the death of the enemy, 
 and, therefore, it prohibits such practices as the use of 
 poisoned ^ or explosive bullets, the sole and necessary 
 
 * This very important proposition we regard as self-evident. 
 Once the power of movement is lost, the attack necessarily ceases. 
 Death, as such, therefore, could not be necessary (on this see p. 99) 
 Nor can it be' claimed that death is necessary in self-defence, since a 
 soldier that is merely wounded may recover and return to the field. 
 For, first, defence proper always concerns present, not future, aggres- 
 sion. To ward off future aggression is a preventative act, not de- 
 fensive. Secondly, whether a soldier that i? merely wounded will 
 return or not, and whe+her or not it would be lawful to take the 
 means now to prevent his future return, it always remains true that 
 death, as such, is not necessary for warding off even luture attack. 
 To wound with sufficient severity or to inflict a sufficient number of 
 wounds is all that is required. Therefore, whilst the defence may 
 be made as violent as possible, to aim at death is not allowed Thirdly, 
 if killing is lawful iii order to prevent recovery, then there is no reason 
 why the wounded and all tliose who fall in battle should not be 
 attacked anew and slain. But thib the conscience of all nations regards 
 with horror as opposed to all the laws of legitimate defence, 
 
 t Such practices are, however, rightly excluded by interiiational 
 law. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 669 
 
 effect of which is to kill ; * it forbids also the killing of 
 soldiers fallen in battle, since the killing af the wounded 
 can in no way be construed as an act of self-defence. 
 
 Combatants and non-combatants. 
 
 War being of the nature of self-defence and not 
 of punishment, the distinction between innocent and 
 guilty enemy-subjects does not arise. It would be 
 wrong to punish a person who is not formally guilty 
 of some crime ; but I may kill a man who makes an 
 unwarranted attack upon my life, whether the aggressor 
 is innocent or guilty, whether, for instance, he is sane 
 or insane, or whether he believes his act is justified 
 or does not. But if the distinction of innocent and 
 guilty does not arise in the present connection, the 
 distinction of combatant and non-combatant not only 
 arises but is of the very highest importance. War 
 being an act of defence, it is lawful for a belligerent 
 to beat down all opposition on the part of the enemy, 
 and, therefore, it is lawful to beat down and scatter 
 all enemy combatants. But war confers no right of 
 violence as against non-combatants. To do violence 
 to a non-combatant could never be construed into an 
 act of self-defence. 
 
 The question, however, arises — who are those that 
 fall under the category of combatants, to whom, there^ 
 fore, violence may be done ? The answer is — under 
 the title of combatants are included in natural law all 
 those who are engaged in actual aggression. This in- 
 cludes, first, all those who form part of the actual forces 
 of a belligerent State \ and, secondly, all others who 
 are actually engaged in the promotion of the war. To 
 all these violence may be done. A State at war cannot 
 kill persons who are potential combatants merely. 
 
 * It is only by accident that an explosive or poisonous bullet does 
 not kill, for instance, it the explosive bullet happens not to enter the 
 body, or the poisonous bullet is at once extracted and the prescribed 
 medical precautions are taken. 
 
670 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Every person in the State, even down to the baby 
 in the cradle, is a potential combatant, and surely 
 the child in the crSdle cannot be killed as an aggressor. 
 But it is lawful to kill all soldiers in uniform or soldiers 
 called to arms; also all who perform auxiliary services,* 
 such as workers on arms and munitions, persons con- 
 nected with transport, i.e. with the supply of food and 
 the implements of war, and persons working a field 
 telegraph. All these are actual enemy aggressors. 
 Mere sympathy would not bring a man under the 
 category of an actual aggressor, and so it would not 
 be lawful to slaughter the populace because of their 
 known sympathy with the enemy. But the immediate 
 supplying of the sinews of war to the enemy is more 
 than sympathy, and effectively brings a person within 
 the category of an enemy combatant. 
 
 Again, not only prisoners of war, but also all who 
 offer themselves as prisoners, fall outside the category 
 of enemy combatants and should be treated as such. 
 Soldiers who genuinely offer themselves as prisoners f 
 must be received as prisoners even if there is no food 
 available for them. It is never allowed to treat a non- 
 combatant as if he were stiU an aggressor. It would 
 be wrong also to treat prisoners of war as hostages, 
 i.e. to exact promises from the enemy under threat of 
 killing the enemy prisoners. On the one hand, a State 
 has no authority over the lives of prisoners taken in 
 war except in regard to actions done after capture. 
 On the other, to kill them is not an act of defence ; 
 
 * It is persons performing auxiliary services that seem to be referred 
 to in Art. 3 of the Hague Regulations under the title of non-combatant 
 armed forces The title is not a good one. They are combatants, 
 but not armed. 
 
 t Spies belong to a wholly different category. A spy entering 
 enemy territory attempts to pass off as a subject. But by assuming 
 the privileges of a subject he must assume the onera as well, and, there- 
 fore, can be treated as a subject and punished for his crime in any 
 way pleasing to the authorities. Prisoners taken on the battlefield 
 have not posed as subjects, and, therefore, cannot be treated as sub- 
 jects, and cannot be punished except for crimes committed aftei 
 they have been taken. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 671 
 
 and, therefore, the State cannot lawfully put them to 
 death.* , 
 
 The same principles that govern the rights of a 
 belligerent in regard to killing enemy persons in war, 
 determine also their rights in regard to the destruction 
 of enemy property. All property which is destined or 
 ear-marked for purposes of war can be lawfully destroyed, 
 even if it belongs to private persons, f If a war-loan 
 could be destroyed its destruction would be perfectly 
 lawful. But the persons supplying such loan could 
 not be killed, because the killing of such persons would 
 in no way promote one's purpose in war. Their death 
 would still permit of their property being made avail- 
 able on the side of the enemy. 
 
 * But rebels may be held as hostages, since the State has full 
 authority over them, and could punish them for their rebellion even 
 by killing them. 
 
 t Other private property cannot. But this rule relates to the 
 actual waging of war. The rights of a belligerent over property 
 in a district which he has successfully " occupied," even though the 
 war is not yet brought to a conclusion, e.g. the occupation of Belgium 
 by the Germans in the great war begun in 1914, are different. In 
 general, the successtul invader might exercise ownership over pubUc 
 p.operty, since, being in occupation, he stands in the place of the 
 dispossessed Government. But private property he should respect. 
 
 The positive rules of international law, at least so far as land 
 warfare is concerned, will, in the main, be found to bear out this view 
 of the requirements of the natural law. Thus, of public property, 
 movable goods (with certain exceptions excluded by treaty, e.g. 
 works of art) may be appropriated by the invader ; whilst over 
 immovables (again with certain exceptions such as places of public 
 worship, museums, etc. the seizure of which is forbidden) the invader 
 is given usufructuary rights, i.e. he can gather the fruits but must not 
 destroy the things. As regards private t>roperty, immovables, speaking 
 generally, cannot be appropriated by the invader, and even the profits 
 arising from them cannot be confiscated, whilst movables must not 
 be seized unless they are calculated to help the enemy for some purpose 
 of war. As regards requisitions and contributions, the general rule 
 seems to be that only so much should be levied as is required to support 
 the army of occupation and to pay for the administration of the place ; 
 but for such exactions either payment must be made or a receipt 
 should be given entitling the private persons affected to^ future re- 
 muneration, either by their own or by the enemy State. Of course, 
 fines may be levied on account of damage or resistance by the civil 
 inhabitants. For detailed information see Lawrence, op. cit. pp. 436, 
 439 ; and Westlake, op. cit. II. ch. iv. 
 
672 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Air-raids and the sinking of merchant vessels. 
 
 Arising out of the distinction of combatants and 
 non-combatants, is the question whether air-raids and 
 the sinking of merchant and passenger vessels are 
 lawful. 
 
 Air-raids upon fortifications, arsenals, military bar- 
 racks, munition factories, and other belligerent insti- 
 tutions and places are lawful, provided every care is 
 taken to spare the lives and property of non-com- 
 batants. But indiscriminate air-raids upon cities like 
 London, Manchester, Cologne or Berlin are quite un- 
 lawful. For, first, such raids are obviously undertaken, 
 not in order to kill enemy troops, but as a part of the 
 general policy of " f rightfulness," the policy, viz. of 
 inspiring non-combatants with fear and so under- 
 mining the morale of the enemy. State. Such raids, 
 therefore, are undertaken directly with a view to the 
 death and destruction of non-combatants, their death 
 being desired as a means to the lowering of the public 
 morale* It is impossible to think that air-raids, which 
 are always expensive and always dangerous to the 
 raiders, would be undertaken for the mere off-chance 
 of killing the few enemy soldiers that might happen to 
 be abroad at the time of the raid. Secondly, lawful 
 indirect killing always requires some proportion between 
 the good expected from one's act and the deaths which 
 occur. And, therefore, even if what is aimed at directly 
 in these air-raids is the killing of a few soldiers, these 
 indiscriminate air-raids are quite unlawful, for there is 
 no justifying proportion between the chance killing of 
 a few enemy soldiers on the one hand (a chance that 
 can hardly ever be realised) and the certain death of 
 many non-combatant citizens on the other. 
 
 ' * As was pointed out before, you aim directly at a particular 
 object, whether that object is intended as an end in itself, or as a 
 means to something else. The man who kills another in order to 
 get that other's money, aims at his death quite as directly as if he 
 killed for the sake of killing. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 673 
 
 The sinking of food ships destined for the enemy is 
 not 'disallowed in natural law, since it is t}\e soldiers in 
 the field that have the first call uppn all incoming 
 supplies, and it is lawful to deprive them of these sup- 
 plies. To sink passenger vessels, or liners, carrying 
 munitions of war or engaged in some other belligerent 
 mission, is lawful, provided that all that is possible is 
 done to save the lives of the passengers. To sink 
 passenger vessels not engaged on any mission of war 
 is wholly disallowed ; and, if loss of life occurs, the act 
 is to be regarded as one of sheer and unadulterated 
 murder.* 
 
 Reprisals. 
 
 We may define reprisals f as any act of retaliation 
 upon an enemy in which an equivalent evil is inflicted 
 for damage sustained, for instance, an air-raid by the 
 British on Cologne to balance the German air-raids on 
 
 * In the great European wax begun in 19 14 it was sometimes 
 asserted that the Gennjins had as good a right to raid London as 
 the English had to starve Germany by means of the British fleet. 
 in both cases non-combatants were the principal sufEefers. But 
 the difference between the two cases is enormous. In certain air^ 
 raids what is directly aimed at is the destruction of non-combatants. 
 In the blockade of Germany at least it is understood that what was 
 directly aimed at was the starvation of the German troops, . who 
 would have the first call upon all food coming into the country. Enemy 
 troops may be deprived of food in either of two ways, first by letting 
 no food into the country, second by preventing the escape of the 
 civil population (as in the case of towns besieged) so that the civil 
 population may eat up the existing supplies. In either case the 
 objisct directly aimed at is the starvation of the enemy troops, not 
 any harm to the civil population. 
 
 Whilst, however, the analogy between aiif-raids and blockade 
 fails to hold good, an instructive compatison of another kind suggests 
 itseU in connection with our present discussion. If one country may 
 lawfully blockade another, in order to prevent the supply of food, 
 the same is lawful on the other side. But, whatever the method of 
 blockade adopted, the rights of sailors and other civil persons to 
 their lives should be respected. . . ' i 
 
 if, We use the word here in its popular meaniijg;.. In international 
 law the word " reprisals " is sopjetimes , used to signify any, sort of 
 pressure, short of war, exercised by ;One natioix on another, e.g, 
 embargo or blockade. i ,!.:,. l; J ) , 
 
 VOL. 11—43 
 
674 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 London and Scarborough. Are these acts of retaliation 
 lawful ? Our answer is that reprisals are lawful where 
 the evil that is perpetrated on either side is evil by 
 reason of treaty only and not by reason of natural law. 
 If one party to a treaty ceases to abide by its terms it 
 is no longer to be regarded as binding on the other 
 party. Thus, the use of poisonous gases by one bel- 
 ligerent justifies their use by another opposed belligerent, 
 these things being excluded by treaty only. But where 
 the evil that is perpetrated by one of the belligerents 
 is evil by reason of natural law, reprisals are wholly- 
 unlawful. What is evil by natural law remains evil, 
 even though the natural law should be ignored, and 
 the forbidden practices indulged, by one of the 
 parties. It is forbidden, for instance, by natural law 
 to : kill non-combatants, ; ^nd so, just as A could 
 not kill B's child because B had kiUed A's child, 
 so also it would be quite unlawful for England in 
 the great war to make air-raids upon German cities 
 because her own cities had been raided by Germany. 
 Any satisfaction which is sought should be sought 
 either at the expense of the enemy forces, they being 
 the responsible parties, or by way of indemnity from 
 the whole nation after the war. 
 
 The conditions of a fust war. 
 
 War is not to be regarded as intrinsically good or as 
 something which is naturally necessary for human 
 developrpent^ We cannot see any reason, but we see 
 great unreason, as well as infinite danger, in the doctrine 
 expressed by Treitschke* that war is not to be re- 
 garded as a mere remedy against possible evil, or as 
 tolerable only in rare arid abnormal contingencies, but 
 
 * In his work, " Die Politik." Treitschke was bom at Dresden in 
 I834. He became prolessor 6f History in the University of Berlin, 
 where he delivered his fattibus lectures on Politics. An excellent 
 account oi£ his whole teaching i^ given in " The Political Thought of 
 Heinrich von Treitschke," by H. W C Davis, M.A. 
 
IJNliiKJNAliUJNAL LAW 675 
 
 that it is as necessary as the State itself, that without 
 war "there would be no States," that "it is only in 
 Wclr that a people becomes in very^deed a people," 
 that "to expel war from the universe would be to 
 mutilate human nature." As well might one say that 
 disunion and violence are necessary amongst the citizens 
 of the State, that to repress them is to mutilate human 
 nature, and that it is the business of the government 
 to foment disorder in a society threatened with too 
 much peace. "Peace," writes Lawrence,* "does not 
 necessarily mean sloth and slavery. Men can be manly 
 without periodical resort to the occupation of mutual 
 slaughter. It is not necessary to graduate in the school 
 of arms in order to learn the hard lessons of duty and 
 honour and self-sacrifice. . . . Ignoble ease has some- 
 times sapped the virility of nations. But has not war 
 again and again turned the victors into human swine 
 and the vanquished into hunted wild beasts ? " 
 
 So far from being a perfection, war is fuU of evil. If 
 it could be avoided, the world, without war, would be a 
 better world. It is tolerable only for the reasons for 
 which surgical operations and hanging are tolerable, 
 i.e. as a means for the cure and prevention of intolerable 
 ills. 
 
 But if war is not a good in itself, neither is it to be 
 regarded as intrinsically evil. Like the surgical opera- 
 tion, and killing in self-defence, war, though accom- 
 panied by, and the cause of much evil, is necessary, 
 and in certain circumstances is even morally good. It 
 is evil for an individual to kill an innocent man. but 
 it is not evil to kiU in self-defence. So the wanton 
 slaughter of one nation by another is evil, but war 
 undertaken in self-defence, or in support of another 
 nation which is being unjustly used, is allowable and 
 often even necessary in natural law. 
 
 To be just, however, a war must fulfil certain con- 
 ditions. These conditions are : (i) war must be initiated 
 
 * op. cit p 573 
 
676 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 by public authority ; {2) it must be necessary ; (3) 
 there must be a legitimate and sufficient cause ; (4) a 
 right intention must be entertained. 
 
 (i) Only the sovereign power or the person, or body 
 designated by the sovereign power in the constitution, 
 can lawfully declare war. War is an act of the nation 
 as such, and it may be declared only by the sovereign 
 power which represents the nation, or by some person 
 or body designated by the sovereign power through the 
 constitution. In England, the monarch declares war 
 through his government. In France, the President 
 declares war with the consent of the two chambers. -In 
 the United States, war is declared by Congress. 
 
 (2) War must be necessary for the vindication of 
 some right which is violated. If an apology suffices 
 and is tendered, war should not be waged. If full 
 reparation is offered it should not be refused. For this 
 reason also, although an ultimatum is not delivered in 
 every case, it should be sent where possible. A ruthless 
 and desolating war might often be averted by the formal 
 presenting of an ultimatum.* 
 
 (3) There must be a just and sufficient cause, such 
 as loss of territory, of honour, of property, or some 
 other grave injustice to the nation. 
 
 The just causes of war are many and could not 
 possibly be enumerated here. But it may be useful 
 to refer to certain causes which are not legitimate, i.e. 
 which are not sufficient to justify recourse to war. 
 War may not be lawfully waged for the sake of terri- 
 torial aggrandisement or for mere glory. Neither can 
 it be waged through jealousy or apprehension of a 
 growing rival, or to maintain the " balance of power " 
 as it is called. A State that attempted to expand at 
 the expense of other States, or that made manifest its 
 intention, whether formally or in any equivalent way, 
 of using its growing strength for the purpose of unjust 
 aggression against other States, might legitimately be 
 
 * See Westlake, " International Law," II, 14. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 677 
 
 impeded from reaching a degree of expansion dangerous 
 to the other powers in question. But in the absence 
 of such certain and manifest intentfon on the part of 
 a rival State, to go to war merely for the sake of pre- 
 serving the balance of power would be a gross injustice, 
 a serious and wanton interference with the inherent 
 right of every State to utilise its capacity for expansion 
 within just and legal limits. Finally, war may not be 
 waged in defence of what is not strictly a right in justice. 
 It could not be waged on account of want of friend- 
 ship * or benevolence on the part of another nation ; 
 but if by force or fraud the friendship of any two nations 
 is broken down by a third, or if by force or fraud one 
 of the two States is prevented from doing to another 
 those acts of friendship which it earnestly desires to 
 perform, such interference is said to entitle the injured 
 State to seek redress and vindicate its honour even by 
 force of arms. 
 
 (4) A right intention is necessary. It would not be 
 allowable, whilst outwardly and seemingly waging war 
 in order to vindicate even a right which has in truth 
 been violated, inwardly and really to wage it for some 
 other illegitimate purpose, for instance, to get rid of a 
 great military or naval rival. A bad intention can 
 vitiate an act, otherwise legitimate, in war as in every 
 other department of human conduct. 
 
 The close of war. 
 
 A principle of great importance in connection with 
 the ethics of war is the principle that victory confers 
 on the victor no special rights over his opponents, f 
 The rights enjoyed by the victor at the close of a war 
 
 * When war is said to be caused by an " unfriendly act," what is 
 generally referred to is, not mere unfriendliness, but some small 
 violation of justice. 
 
 t See p. 521, where it is shown that though victory and conquest 
 confer no authority upon the victor, yet after conquest, political 
 authonty may pass to the victor on another title. 
 
678 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 are those rights which were present from the beginning 
 of the war — they are not added to by his victory. 
 
 If, therefore, a war is unjust, the victor acquires no 
 rights whatsoever over the conquered people and 
 territory. On the contrary, he should make restitu- 
 tion for all the loss he has inflicted on his enemy. 
 Again, even in a just war, victory confers no right of 
 depriving the conquered people of their sovereignty 
 and freedom. That right may belong to the victor 
 on other grounds ; it does not arise on the ground of 
 victory alone. In other words, the rights and wrongs 
 of war are determined by those abiding moral principles 
 which govern the relations of States, and they remain 
 the same, no matter which of the combatants is vic- 
 torious or is subdued. 
 
 In a just war the side to which victory falls enjoys 
 three rights only, first, the right to recover property 
 or honour according to the injustice which has been 
 done ; secondly, the right to exact compensation for 
 losses contracted in the war ; thirdly, the right to put 
 down an attitude of permanent hostility on the part of 
 the defeated State, else a recurrence of the war is only 
 a matter of time and opportunity. If subjugation is 
 required for this end, subjugation is lawful. But war 
 is of its nature defensive, and, therefore, subjugation 
 would not be lawful for the mere purpose of preventing 
 future possible aggression which is not now in any way 
 threatened.* Ordinary and remote possibilities of future 
 war can never be dissociated from the contending 
 interests of powerful rival States, and they cannot be 
 regarded as a legitimate cause of war. 
 
 Whether wars will ever be wholly eliminated as 
 development proceeds, and society becomes more and 
 more consolidated and unified, it would be impossible 
 to say ; whether peaceful arbitration, or some other 
 method more suitable than war for determining the 
 
 * It is threatened, even now, if the permanent attitude of the de- 
 feated State is one of aggression. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW 679 
 
 issues of public justice, will ever become the universally 
 accepted substitute for war, it would tie idle to discuss. 
 But, certainly, to that end the world in time of peace 
 should direct its best and most untiring efforts. But 
 if with time it becomes evident that the chancelleries 
 of the world are unable to devise, or through their 
 mutual jealousies are prevented from agreeing upon, 
 some more human method for the settling of inter- 
 national disputes than that method of which the brute 
 animals are the finished exponents, the method, namely, 
 of tooth and claw, of blood and slaughter, of endless 
 pain and misery, then it is for the peoples themselves, 
 on whom the burden and horrors of war fall most 
 heavily and assuredly, to approach the problem, to 
 devise a better method, and by every constitutional 
 means at their disposal to see that it is accepted by 
 the governments of the world. 
 
APPENDICES 
 
 The Financial Impossibility of Socialism 
 
 On p. 260 we developed an argument showing that socialism 
 is financially impossible, unless the method resorted to is that 
 of complete confiscation and robbery, and such a method, 
 we presumed, would not be approved by the conscience of 
 socialists any more than that of other persons. Every man 
 has a right to compensation for property justly acquired, 
 and this right holds not only as against other individual^ 
 but also as against the State. 
 
 We wish in the present appendix to point out that this 
 argument holds good, whether the method proposed for 
 nationalising all capital is that of depriving owners of their 
 property during their lives, or depriving their heirs of it at 
 the death of the original owners. . When a workman but of 
 his hard earnings saves a hundred pounds, not Only has he 
 a natural right to use that hundred pounds during his life; 
 but he has a naktral* right also to bequeath it to his children. 
 The children are then the true owners, and the State has no 
 more right to deprive them of their property than to con- 
 fiscate it during the life of the parent. Of course, the State' 
 has a full right to exact something by way of death-duty 
 when property is bequeathed. The State must be supported^ 
 and it is for the State to determine the manner in which its 
 support is to be secured. But the State has no right to more 
 than is required for its'support and its work. It has no right 
 to more than a contribution out of the possessions of its 
 subjects. The essential rights of property it must leave 
 intact. The system of gradual confiscation therefore must 
 be condemned. 
 
 Economically, also, the system which we are here con- 
 sidering is bound to prove most deleterious to the conununity. 
 
 •Socialists are wont to deny this. They say, that the right of 
 bequest is from the State alone. But this theory is absolutely gtound- 
 less. The right of bequest is contained in the very conception of 
 ownership which is nothing more than the right of the full disposal 
 of one's property. Since, therefore, ownership is natural, the right 
 of bequest is also natural. The socialist position on this wholfe 
 question of bequest is fully given in Rignano's work "'^Un' SociaUisme 
 en harmonie avec la Doctrjne. ficonomique Liberale." 
 
 68 1 
 
6821 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 What workman, for instance, would dream of saving a hundred 
 pounds if he knew that the State would confiscate it at his 
 death, or, if it were saved, would fail to squander it before 
 it could pass into the possession of the State ? And what is 
 true of the poor is true of the rich also ; there is no property 
 so great that it could not be squandered in a decade of years. 
 Socialism, therefore, under any form, acts as a preventive 
 to the accumulation of capital, and we know that, without 
 increase of capital,, industry not only cannot advance but 
 must of necessity decline. 
 
 Argument Drawn from Laws of Patents and Copyright 
 IN Favour of the Gradual Socialisation of Capital 
 
 An argument in favour of gradual socialisation as above 
 described is sometimes drawn from the brief proprietorship 
 allowed by the State in the case of inventions. Inven- 
 tions, it is said, are produced by and are the creation of the 
 inventor — ^more truly so than any business enterprise, Yet 
 the government will protect an invention for only a few years : 
 after that it becomes public "property. Why, therefore,; 
 should not factories or any other kind of productive capital 
 become public property after they have been privately, 
 owned for a couple of generations ? , 
 
 The same argument, has been extended to the case of copyr 
 right in regard to books. They are the creation of the 
 writer, yet copyright does not outlast a certain number of 
 years. In time even the most valuable of writings become 
 the property of the community. 
 
 Reply. — This argument based upon the prevailing laws of 
 patent and copyright, instead of militating against the 
 doctrine of the permanent ownerehip of capital, serves only 
 to elucidate and confirm it. As long as an inventor or writer 
 keeps the result of his own research or thought locked up in 
 his own brain, it is in the completest sense his property, 
 and no man can take it from him. But the moment that 
 an invention is embodied in a machine for public sale, or 
 that a writer's thoughts are published, by these very acts both 
 inventor and writer have surrendered their right of private^ 
 ownership ; they have handed Over their conceptions to thd' 
 pubhc to be used as the public may wish. It would therefpr]?' 
 be absurd to expect governments to recognise any natural, 
 duty of protecting a published work, either for ever or for 
 
APPENDICES 683 
 
 a time, when by the very act of publication (as the word 
 itself sufficiently indicates) a writer has madlfe over his thought 
 to the public, i.e. has made of it public property. The same 
 holds in the case of oral utterances! Once I have uttered 
 my thought the public are as much owners of it as myself 
 and can repeat it, not merely after a number of years but 
 from the very moment of utterance. Only one thing in 
 the case of a published work is always and naturally the 
 property of the writer, viz. the original manuscript. It is 
 his thought that is pubUshed or made public property, hot 
 the manuscript in which his thought is first enshrined. And 
 therefore pubUcation does not imply surrender of one's rights 
 of ownership over the original manuscript. 
 
 Inventor and writer have no natural right to protection of 
 monopoly once they have put invention or written work 
 upon the public market. But for reasons of the public 
 interest, for instance, in order to foster invention and to 
 encourage literary work, governments do often guarantee 
 for a term of years that protection to inventors and writers 
 which is not theirs by any natural right ; but as soon as the 
 period of patent and copyright is over, the conditions 
 originally created by the act of publication reappear, and the 
 public comes into its own again. 
 
 The difference obtaining between inventions and publica- 
 tions on the one hand and ordinary business enterprise on 
 the other wiU now be apparent. The building of a factory 
 does not involve, as does the publication of a work or putting 
 an invention on the market, the handing of the same over 
 to the public. On the contrary when a factory is built it 
 remains the property of the capitalist ; it is his for ever 
 and the public have no rights in regard to it. Of course 
 the public can imitate a factory and its methods or they can 
 proceed if they like to imitate its products, i.e. they have a 
 right to the plan and thought of a factory once it is erected, 
 unless, indeed, government in the pubhc interest undertakek 
 to protect the capitalist, and gives him a monopoly, of pro- 
 duction for a period of years. To that extent factories 
 stand on the very same footing as publications and inventions j 
 But there is a further likeness also to be considered, vi'z.v 
 that just as the public have no right to the original machine 
 made by the inventor or to the manuscript of the writer, 
 so they can assert no right of ownership over the factory 
 erected by the capitalist at his own expense and by his own 
 labour or by labour duly paid for ; such a right is neVer 
 acquired by natural law even after a long period of years. 
 
684 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Revelation and Natcral Religion 
 
 Of the relation in which natural religion stands to revealed, 
 a fuller statement may be attempted here than was possible 
 in our chapter on natural religion. 
 
 Whether any revelation was made in the beginning, and 
 what the truths that were revealed, are questions that 
 belong to doctrinal Theology rather than to Ethics, which 
 is the science of natural morals only, as inculcated by reason. 
 But our natural reason suggests to us the two following 
 considerations which the reader should bear in mind when 
 determining the relation of natural to revealed religion. 
 
 I. That natural religion preceded revealed religion in 
 point of time could not be guaranteed, since even natural 
 reason must recognise that a revelation might be made at 
 the earUest moment in the history of mankind, whereas 
 natural reUgion would require some time for its development. 
 The question of fact^ — ^whether God did reveal Himself to 
 man in the beginning of things is, as we said, a question for 
 Theology not for Ethics. 
 
 But, logically, natural religion is certainly prior to re- 
 vealed, in the sense that natural religion was a necessary 
 implication of reason from the beginning, whereas revealed 
 religion was not. Moreover, human reason, if left to itself, 
 would certainly establish a reUgion, since it should necessarily 
 become aware of God's existence and of man's dependence 
 on God. Such religion would, of course, become in time 
 subject to many misconceptions, but its inner ground and 
 substance would still be true and have its own value in spite 
 of these misconceptions. 
 
 II. Whether the religions of the existing savage races 
 are due to revelation, or are a product of natural reason 
 only, has been widely discussed both by those who admit 
 that an early revelation was made to man and by those who 
 do not. Granted that a revelation was made in the be- 
 ginning, still, the present religions of savages might well 
 be based on reason alone, through the original revelation 
 having been forgotten, a supposition that is not to be dis- 
 missed as impossible in the case of peoples that have been 
 cut off, through most of their history, from contact with 
 the rest of the human race. We beUeve, however, that 
 the results 6f modern investigation into the religion of 
 savages can hardly be said to favour this view that their 
 I'eligion is a product of reason only, independently of revela-t 
 tion. Although it is 'certain that natural reason, without 
 
APPENDICES 685 
 
 the aid of revelation, should of necessitv attain to some 
 knowledge of God, and of man's duties toWards Him, still, 
 knowing what we do of the vacillations of reason, the blind- 
 ing effect of passion, the paralysis of mind produced by 
 poverty and long-continued isolation from the rest of man-, 
 kind, we think it is hardly possible that the savage races 
 could have developed their present reUgious beliefs without 
 revelation of some kind. The beUefs of some savage races, 
 particularly those of more primitive type, represent the 
 highest and purest form of monotheism, and these beliefs, 
 coupled with the kind of sacrifice customary amongst them*, 
 that, viz. of the first fruits, and their lofty marriage system 
 which is that of the strictest monogyny (p. 45), afford, to 
 our minds, very strong evidence that at least what is 
 fundamental in present-day savage reUgion is to be traced 
 in the first instance to an ancient revelation, nnd not to 
 human reason alone, acting independently of revelation. 
 
 See series of articles in " Anthropos,' vols. III., TV., V. 
 (1908-1910), bv P. G. Schmidt ; or his work, " L'Origine 
 de L' Id^e de Dieu " (p. 108). 
 
INDEX OF SUBJECTS 
 
 Ability, a factor of production, 
 i88 and foil., 199 ; exclusive ab. 
 to govern — a title of authority, 
 
 537- 
 Accretion, 147. 
 Administrative courts, 630. 
 Advocates, duties of, 6x6. 
 African religions, 36—37. 
 Air-raids, 671. 
 Alliances, 565. 
 Andamanese, 37-39, 460. 
 Animals, lawful to kill, 86-92 
 Aristocracy, 559, 574-575. 
 Auction sales, 320. 
 Australian savages, 34-36, 44, 
 
 410 and foil. 
 Authority, political — nature of, 
 
 515 ; grounds of, 515-517 ; 
 
 titles of, 515-538 ; consequences 
 
 of, 538-544 ; attributes of, 544- 
 
 556. 
 
 Bailments, 328. 
 
 Bequest, and ownership, 145. 
 
 Brother and sister marriages, 
 
 447- 
 ■Buying and selling, 315. 
 
 Capital, its meaning, 150. 
 Celibacy, 49, 64. 
 Chamber, t;wo ch. system, 606. 
 Chance, contracts of, 326. 
 Charity, a part of religion, 1 ; 
 
 a duty of religion, 23-31 ; love 
 
 of neighbour, 66-68. 
 Chastity, 64. 
 Chinese Republic, president of, 
 
 562'. 
 Combatants in war, 669. 
 Communism, 116. 
 Concentration, industrial, I62- 
 
 184. 
 Concordats, 657. 
 
 Confederations, 565 ; Swiss, 
 
 566 ; Germanic, 566- 
 Conquest, a title of political 
 
 authority, 521-537- 
 Consanguinity, impediment ofj 
 
 443-451- 
 
 Consent, 298 ; a title of autho- 
 rity, 532-537. 538. 
 
 Consideration, 307. 
 
 Constitutions, 567-570. 
 
 Contract, in general, 298-312 ; 
 kinds of, 309 ; particular con- 
 tracts, 312-353- 
 
 Contumely, no. 
 
 Craniotomy, 102 note. 
 
 Criminals, may be put to death, 
 
 93- 
 Crises, industrial, 201-214. 
 
 Damage, 380. 
 
 Death, indirect compassing ->z, 
 
 5&-59 ; suicide, 52-56. 
 Delegations, Austrian, 537 
 Democracy, 559, 575-583. 
 Dependent States, 634. 
 Derision, 112. 
 Detraction, iir. 
 Divorce, 429. 
 Drunkenness, 62. 
 Duelling, 105-109. 
 
 Education, right of State to 
 
 control, 486. 
 Election, a title of authority, 
 
 519- , 
 Endogamy and exogamy, 451. 
 Error, effect on contract, 302- 
 
 305- 
 
 EXECUTIVE, 610-614. 
 
 Family, and private ownership, 
 122-126; under socialism, 268- 
 271 ; and marriage, 388 ; re- 
 lation to State, 465. 
 
 687 
 
688 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Fear, relation to contract, 304. 
 
 Friendship, charity, 66-68 ; in- 
 jury to, 1X2 ; and marriage, 
 440. 
 
 Gift, 144, 314. 
 
 Government, how a de facto g. 
 becomes legitimised, 521-537 ; 
 parliamentary, 626-628 ; cab- 
 inet, 628-630. 
 
 Hammurabi, code of, 295. 
 Honour, injury to, no. 
 
 Impediments to marriage, 442- 
 
 451- 
 
 Impotence, 442. 
 
 Incentives, absence under social- 
 ism, 243-247, 275. 
 
 Increment, unearned, 290. 
 
 Infertility, relation to indis- 
 solubility of marriage, 441. 
 
 Inheritance, 144, 145-147. 
 
 Injustice, 372-384. 
 
 Interest on money, 328-334. 
 
 Interference, governmental, 
 
 477- 
 Internationai. law, 633-679 ; 
 subjects of, 633-635 ; kinds of, 
 635-636 ; nature of, 636-640 ; 
 some precepts of, are natural, 
 640-647 ; justice, 647 ; charity, 
 
 654- 
 Intervention, theory of non-, 
 
 655- 
 Intestate succession, 146. 
 Inventions and Socialism, 682. 
 
 Judges, duties of, 614. 
 
 Judiciary, 614-618. 
 
 Jury, trial by, 617. 
 
 Justice, its nature, 80 ; distri- 
 butive and commutative, 80- 
 81, 85; commutative — its 
 ground, 81-84 > commutative 
 — its end, 84-86 ; commutative 
 — formula of, 85. 
 
 Killing in self-defence, 97-103 ; 
 
 accidental, 103-105. 
 Kingship — See Monarchy. 
 
 Labour, a title of ownership, 143 ; 
 surplus value of, 185-201 ; not 
 sole factor in production, 187 
 and foil. ; capitalist exploita- 
 tion of, 214-216 ; ' reserve army 
 of, 217-220. 
 
 Land — See nationalisation ; theory 
 of primitive communism in, 
 291-297 ; number of persons 
 obtaining living from, 288. 
 
 Law, relation of civil to natural, 
 599 ; international, 633-679. 
 
 Legislation, 599-610. 
 
 Levirat, 458. 
 
 Liberty, right of, 109-110. 
 
 Lies, 67-79. 
 
 Malthusianism, 480. 
 
 Mana, 42. 
 
 Manu, law of, 458. 
 
 Maoris, religion of, 39-40. 
 
 Marriage, 64, 389-460 ; group- 
 marriage, 410-414 ; laws of, 
 415, 436 note ; unity of, 419 ; 
 indissolubility of, 429-442, 460 ; 
 restriction of by State, 479. 
 
 Matriarchate, 409, 520. 
 
 Mental restrictions, 77-79. 
 
 Mir, Russian, 292, 295. 
 
 MiscHiEF-making, 112. 
 
 Misrepresentation, 304. 
 
 Monarch, British, 592-59S. 
 
 Monarchy, 559, 570-573. 
 
 Monandry, 425. 
 
 Money, loan of, 328. 
 
 Monogyny, 419. 
 
 Monopoly, 174, 225, 275-279. 
 
 Monotheism, 43-46. 
 
 Murder, 98. 
 
 Nationalisation, of capital — See 
 Socialism ■ limits of, 275-27^ ; 
 of land, 280-288 ; of coal-mines, 
 289 ; of building-sites, 290. 
 
 Nationalities, 507-513 ; princi- 
 ple of ' nationality,' 513 note; 
 subjugated nationalities, 536. 
 
 Nature, stg-te of, 491-499. 
 
 Niyoga, 458. 
 
 Nomadic races^ not a State, 514. 
 
 Occupancy, 137-143 ; State occ, 
 650. 
 
 Occupation, in war, 671. 
 
 Ochlocracy, 559. 
 
 Ownership, private, definition of, 
 113 ; divisions of, 114 ; grounds 
 of, 115-132 ; scope of, or duties 
 attached to, 133-136 ; titles, of 
 136-149; in capital — See Social- 
 ism. 
 
 Parents, responsibility to chil- 
 dren — See Marriage ; ' parent 
 and child ' marriages, 444. 
 
INDEX 
 
 689 
 
 Party system, 601-604 5 ^"^1 P-j 
 
 604-606. 
 Patriarchal theory of origin of 
 
 State, 466, 469 note, 470, 497, 
 
 520. 
 People and nationality, 508. 
 Polity, 559. 
 Polyandry, 425, 456. 
 Polygyny, 415, 455. 
 Possession, mala fide, 377 ; bona 
 
 fide, 379 ; a title of political 
 
 authority, 519. 
 Powers of sovereignty, 599-632 ; 
 
 separation of, 618-632. 
 Prescription, a title of o^vner- 
 
 ship, 147 ; a title of political 
 
 authority, 522-532. 
 Price, the just, 316. 
 Production, sur commande, 212 ; 
 
 under sociahsm, 257-259. 
 Promiscuity, sexual, 404-414. 
 Promise, 314. 
 Punishment, 93, 109. 
 Pygmy races, 37-39, 45, A°9, 455- 
 
 Rebellion, 535 note, 540, 
 
 Rebels, as hostages, 671. 
 
 Referendum, 576-579. 
 
 Religion, natural, definition of, 
 I ; derivation of word, i ; 
 priniitive religions, i ; and 
 justice, 2, 3 ; its nature, 3 ; 
 essential act of, 4 ; false re- 
 ligions, 5 ; presuppositions of, 
 5-10 ; ground and necessity of, 
 11-15 ; a special virtue, 13 ; 
 elicited and commanded acts of, 
 14, 15 ; acts of, 20-22 ; alleged 
 pre-religious period, 31-46 ; 
 false theories of, 40-46. 
 
 Reprisals, 673. 
 
 Reputation, injury to, iii. 
 
 Restitution, 372, 384. 
 
 Savage races, religion of, 8, g, 
 31-46 ; marriage, 404-414, 451- 
 460 passim. 
 
 Sea, appropriation of, 652. 
 
 Secession, right of, 512. 
 
 Self-defence — See Killing. 
 
 Self-sufficiency of State, 464, 
 
 513- 
 Sex, law of temperance in, 63. 
 Social-contract theory, 491- 
 
 503- 
 
 Socialism, 150-297, 681 ; Guild- 
 Socialism, 161 ; financial im- 
 possibility^f, 260, 681 ; Inven- 
 tions and Socialism, 682. 
 
 Society, nature and kinds, 385. 
 
 Sovereignty, 494, 499, 545-556. 
 
 Spies, killing of, 670. 
 
 State, nature of, 461 ; origin of, 
 462-472 ; a self-sufficient so- 
 ciety, 464 ; a natural society, 
 471 ; end of, 472 ; interference 
 by, 477 ; rights re marriage, 
 479 : rights re education, 486 ; 
 part's of, 504 ; relation to 
 family, 505 ; territory of, 513- 
 514 ; authority of, 515-556 ; 
 forms of, 558-567 ; unitary and 
 federal, 563 ; the best, 584- 
 591 ; functions of, 599-632. 
 
 Stealing, 375. 
 
 Strikes, 354-371. 
 
 Suicide, 52-56, 102. 
 
 Swiss ' referendum ' and ' initia- 
 tive,' 575. 
 
 Syndicalism, 160-161. 
 
 Taxation, 611-614. 
 Temperance, 59-66. 
 Trades-union executives, 363. 
 Treaties, 657-662. 
 Trusts — See Concentration, and 
 
 Monopoly. 
 Truth, 69-79. 
 Tyrannis, 572-573. 
 
 Uncivilised communities — See 
 savage races ; relation to inter- 
 national law, 634, 651. 
 
 Unemployed — See labour — re- 
 serve army of. 
 
 Union of States, 566, 567. 
 
 Unity of political authority, 546. 
 
 Urabunna tribe, 410-411. 
 
 Village-communities, 463. 
 Virginity, 65. 
 Vivisection, 92. 
 Vow, 18. 
 
 Wages, iron law of, 220-224 ; and 
 socialist incomes, 225-252 ; con- 
 tract of, 334-353 ; minimum 
 just wage, 343. 
 
 War, 663-679 ; definition, 663 ; 
 kinds, 663 ; lawful war always 
 defensive, 664 ; killing is in- 
 direct in war, 666 ; conditions 
 of just, 674 ; close of, 677. 
 
LIST OF AUTHORS REFERRED TO 
 IN THIS WORK 
 
 Amos, Sheldon, 598. 
 
 Anson, Sir Wm., 300, 309, 310, 
 596, 597- 
 
 Aristotle, the arts, 24 ; justice, 
 85 ; rights of animals, 89-91 ; 
 private ownership, 125-134 pas- 
 sim, 152 ; theory of value, 186- 
 187 ; marriage, 401, 418, 422 ; 
 the State, 462-476 passim, 506, 
 513. 538,' 558-563 passim, 567- 
 599 passim. 
 
 Ashley, W. J., 166, 296, 333. 
 
 AsQUiTH, Right Hon. H., 512. 
 
 Augustine, St., 76. 
 
 Austin, John, 136, 555-556. 
 
 AVEBURY, Lord, 32-39 passim, 
 402-409 passim, 451, 452, 454. 
 
 Baboeuf, F. N., 154. 
 
 Bachofen, 409. 
 
 Bacon, 393. 
 
 Bailey, 445. 
 
 Bagehot, W., 591, 607. 
 
 Bastable, C. F., 282. 
 
 Bebel, 152. 
 
 Bellarmine, Card., 491, 499- 
 
 503 passim. 
 Bernstein, 159, i6r, 164, 168, 
 
 182. 
 Best, Elsdon, 39. 
 Beverjdge, W. H., 220. 
 Birch, S., 294. 
 JBlanc, Louis, 155. 
 Bluntschli, 511, 515, 619. 
 
 goDIN, 552. 
 
 Bosanquet, B., 76, 417, 476, 485. 
 Boscawen, Wm. St. Chad., 294. 
 Broglie, de, 44. 
 Brown, A. R., 38. 
 Brown, C. H., 33. 
 Brown, W. J., 277. 
 
 Bryce, Lord, 467, 548, 549, 554, 
 589, 624, 625, 626. 
 
 BUCHAN, J., 7. 
 
 Bucher, stein, 237. 
 
 BURNELL, A. Cook, 459. 
 
 Burns, 440. 
 Bury, J. B., 468. 
 Butler, 29. 
 
 Caldecott, A., 14. 
 Campanella, 153. 
 Cannan, Edwin, 221. 
 Carver, T. N., 333, 341. 
 Castelein, a., 525. 
 Cathrein, v., 153, 295, 525, 531, 
 
 532, 548- 
 Chapman, S. J., 178, 179, 207, 219, 
 
 220. 
 Cicero, 407. 
 COMTE, A., 467. 
 Cook, S. A., 295. 
 CouLANGEs, Fustel de, 286, 296. 
 Cox, Harold, 289. 
 Crawley, A., 452. 
 
 Davis, H W. C, 606, 627, 674. 
 DE Laveleye, 291-297 passim. 
 Devas, C. S., 457. 
 Dicey, A. V., 520, 550, 578. 
 Dunbar, C. F., 208. 
 durkheim, e., 40. 
 
 Ely, R. F., 177, 179. 
 
 Engkls, F., 152, 156, 158 202, 
 
 206, 211. 
 Ensor, R. C. K., 153. 
 Eucken, 2. 
 
 Fabians, 159, 229. 
 FisoN and Howitt, 411, 
 Flint, Robert, 237, 239, 283! 
 Fowler, W. Warde, 469' 
 
 690 
 
LIST OF AUTHORS 
 
 691 
 
 Fourier, Ch. 154. 
 
 Frazer, Sir J. G., 10, 41, 452, 
 
 453. 454- 
 Freeman, E. A., 575, 595. 
 
 George, Henry, 288 
 GiBBS, Philip, 434. 
 GiDDINGS, F. H., 410, 463. 
 GiFFEN, Sir R., 221. 
 Girard, F., 139, 148. 
 Godwin, 154. 
 GoscHEN, Viscount, 183. 
 Green, T. H., 556. 
 Grote, G., 331, 618. 
 Grotius, 658. 
 Guesde, 159. 
 
 GUYAU, 53. 
 
 Hall, W. E., 653, 658, 660, 662. 
 Halle, von, 180. 
 Hahn, Th., 37, 44. 
 Harrington, 153. 
 Hartland, E. S., 410, 454. 
 Hartmann, von, 14. 
 Herkner, 208, 212. 
 Hobbes, 137, 153, 467, 476, 491- 
 
 499 passim, 580, 591. 
 HoBHOUSE, L. T., 40, 41, 46, 457, 
 
 468. 
 HoBSON, J. A., 170, 204. 
 Howard, G. E., 414. 
 HowiTT, A. "W., 35, 44, 411- 
 Hume, 7, 46. 
 Humphrey, J. H., 579. 
 Hyndman, H. M., 159. 
 
 Indermaur, J., 310. 
 Ireson, Frank, 226-240 passim, 
 26S. 
 
 JASTROW, Morris, 10, 42 
 Jaures, 159. 
 Jellinek, 464, 552. 
 Jevons, F. B., 36, 209. 
 Johns, C. H. W., 295. 
 Joyce, P. W., 297. 
 
 Kant, 7, 13, 29, 46, 467, 476, 
 
 491-499 passim. 
 King, L. W., 294, 295. 
 Kautsky, K., 152, 158, 159, 165, 
 
 173, 223, 233, 243, 247. 
 
 Ladd, G. F., 10, 13. 
 
 Landry, A., 213. 
 
 Lang, Andrew, 33, sSi's?, "44. 
 
 Lassalle,T., 155, 156. 
 Lawrence, T. J., 141, 547, 634, 
 
 640, 642, 646, 658, 660, 675. 
 Le 13on, 192, 196, 241. 
 Lehmkuhl, 359, 379. 
 Leo XIII, 168, 281, 283. 
 Le Roy, 36, 37, 39, 42, 409, 453, 
 
 456, 460. 
 Leroy-Beaulieu, 218, 246, 281, 
 
 285, 286. 
 Levi, Leone, 234. 
 Levy, H., 176. 
 Lewinski, Jan St., 296. 
 Locke, 98, 137, 139, 143, 153, 
 
 431, 467. 476, 491-499 passim. 
 Lowell, A. L., 578, 609, 630. 
 Lugo, Card, de, 97, 99, loi 
 
 Mackenzie, Lord, 136. 
 
 Macrosty, H. W., 20I. 
 
 McLennan, J. F., 409, 451, 452, 
 457. 458, 459, 466. 
 
 Maine, Sir H., 428, 453, 466, 468, 
 469, 578, 586. 
 
 Mallock, W. H., I9I,Ti93, 195, 
 240, 289. 
 
 Man, E. H., 37, 38, 407, 408. 
 
 Marett, R. R., 41, 42. 
 
 Markby, Sir W., 139, 140, 144. 
 
 Marshall, A., 219. 
 
 Marx, Karl, 152, 154, 156-158, 
 161—224 passim, 253. 
 
 Meredith, G., 54. 
 
 Meredith, J., 579. 
 
 Mermeix, 218, 288. 
 
 Meyer, T., 525, 532, 540. 
 
 Mill, J. S., 148, 154, 189, 208, 
 281, 467, 479, 480, 482, 490, 
 527, 579. 584. 607, 623. 
 
 Millerand, 159, 161. 
 
 Money, Chiozza L. G., 222, 226- 
 240 passim. 
 
 Montesquieu, 475, 618-632 pas- 
 sim. 
 
 More, Sir T., 153. 
 
 Morgan, Lewis, 412. 
 
 MiiLLER, Max, 14, 33. 
 
 Newman, N. L., 467, 472. 
 Nicholson, J. S., 190, 205, 207. 
 
 O'Curry, Eugene,'293. 
 
692 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 Palgrave, R. H. I., 207. 
 Pelham, H. F., 468. 
 Pesch, Chr., 44. 
 Plato, 124, 152. 
 Plunkett, Sir H., 284. 
 Pollock, Sir F., 103, 105, 477. 
 Primrose, Sir H., 228. 
 
 Rae, J., 182. 
 
 Ratzel, 407. 
 
 Reinach, 19. 
 
 RicKABY, Joseph, on religion, 16 ; 
 on charity, 23 ; on duelling, 
 105 ; on indiss. of marriage, 
 432 ; on rebellion, 542. 
 
 RiDGWAY, W., 42, 
 
 RiGNANO, 681. 
 
 Rivers, W. H. R., 404, 407 
 Robertson, 511. 
 RoDBERTUs, Karl, 155, 208. 
 RosKOFF, Gustav, 33. 
 Rousseau, 153, 154, 467, 491- 
 499 passim, 554, 556, 602. 
 
 Salmond, J. W., 136, 139, 148. 
 Saussaye, de la, 33. 
 Sayce, a. H., II. 
 
 SCHAEFFLE, A. E. F., I58. 
 SCHLEIERMACHER, 1 4. 
 SCHIFFINI, 525, 658. 
 
 Schmidt, P. W., 38, 44, 45, 455. 
 Schmidt, R. P. G,, 43-46, 683. 
 Seebohm, F., 293. 
 Seeley, Sir J. R., 467, 470, 475, 
 
 556, 592, 596. 
 Seligman, E. R. a., 204, 206, 213. 
 Sheane, J. W. West, 37. 
 
 SCHRADER, O , 406, 468. 
 SiDGWICK, H., 478, 497, 550, 573, 
 
 592. 
 SiGERSON, G., 293, 297. 
 SlMKHOWITCH, W. G., 295. 
 
 Sims, 231. 
 
 SiSMONDI, 208. 
 
 Skeat, Ch. O., 45, 455. 
 
 Smith, G., 295. 
 
 Sombart, Werner, 164, 169, 207, 
 
 208, 221, 222. 
 Spencer, H., religion, 36, 40 ; 
 
 exogamy, 452 ; Levirat, 458 ; 
 
 origin of State, 469, 470, 476. 
 Spencer and Gillen, 34, 410. 
 Spinoza, 491-499 passim. 
 Sprague, O. M. W., 208. 
 
 St. Simon, 154 
 
 Starcke, C. v., 403, 413, 451, 
 
 452, 454- 
 Stephens, Morse, 566. 
 SuAREZ, 491, 499-503 passim, 517. 
 Sullivan, W. K., 293. 
 
 Taparelli, 525. 
 
 Taussig, F. W., 208. 
 
 Taylor, Hannis, 655, 656, 660, 
 662. 
 
 Tennyson, 592. 
 
 Thomas, N. W., 411. 
 
 Thomas, St., religion, 1-46 pas- 
 sim ; charity, 25, 66 ; suicide, 
 52 ; temperance, 60 ; the lie, 
 6y~y8 passim ; animal and man, 
 88 ; killing of animals, 93 ; 
 murder, 96 ; killing in self- 
 defence, 98 ; contumely, iii ; 
 derision, 112 ; private owner- 
 ship, 126-136 passim ; money 
 loans, 331 ; marriage, 392, 398, 
 407, 418, 422, 432, 433, 438, 
 443, 446, 448, 449, 456; se- 
 dition, 542. 
 
 Thompson, R. J., 286 
 
 TiELE, C. P., 10. 
 
 Thucydides, 468. 
 
 ToDD, a. W., 595- 
 
 Treitschke, H. von, 606, 618, 
 627, 674. 
 
 Tylor, E. B., 33, 40, 404, 454. 
 
 Vandervelde, E., 159, 161, 166, 
 
 171. 
 Victoria, Queen, 598. 
 
 Walker, F. A., 331. 
 Wallace, A. R., 283. 
 Waterhouse, E. S., 14. 
 Webb, Sidney, 159, 221. 
 Webb, A. D., 166,, 168, 172, 217, 
 
 234, 237, 239, 240, 250, 260, 
 
 288. 
 Westermarck, E., I, 139, 402, 
 
 403, 405, 406, 407, 413, 414, 
 
 422, 428, 445, 451, 453, 454, 
 
 455, 456, 457- 
 Westlake, John, 567, 634, 671, 
 
 676. 
 
 Young, Arthur, 284,