« .
1 ,
-,
· '
··
•
•
•
• 1 ,
•
. {
1, 1.
.
1
1
1
•
• •
• • • •
•
•
•
• !
913,680
A
.
:
:
ΠΙΣΩ
ανε 14 1 5

1 11ε11 • • • • • • •

BIGAN.
MICHIC
LIBRA
NIVERS
.
-
.
.,
.
-
1
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
BY THE LATE
WILLIAM KINGDON CLIFFORD, F.R.S.
LA FEIT UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON ; AN
LATE PROFESSOR OF APPLIED MATHEMATICS AND MECHANICS
FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
EDITED BY
LESLIE STEPHEN
AND
SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK
"La vérité est toute pour tous."-PAUL-LOUIS COURIER
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II
III
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1901
17!
.664
1901
First Edition, 2 Vols. 8vo. 1879.
Second Edition, 1 Vol. Crown 8vo. 1836.
Third Edition, Eversley Series, 2 Vols. Globe 8vo. 1901.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I
BODY AND MIND . . . . . . .
ON THE NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES . .
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS . , .
RIGHT AND WRONG: THE SCIENTIFIC GROUND OF
THEIR DISTINCTION . . . . . .
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF . . . . .
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION. . . . . .
THE INFLUENCE UPON MORALITY OF A DECLINE IN
96
163
I
RELIGIOUS BELIEF . . . . . .
COSMIC. EMOTION . . . . . . .
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE. . .
246
257
298
BODY AND MIND1
7
THE subject of this Lecture is one in regard to
which a great change has recently taken place
in the public mind. Some time ago it was the
custom to look with suspicion upon all questions
of a metaphysical nature as being questions
that could not be discussed with any good
result, and which, leading inquirers round and
round in the same circle, never came to an end.
But quite of late years there is an indication
that a large number of people are waking up
to the fact that Science has something to say
upon these subjects; and the English people
have always been very ready to hear what
Science can say — understanding by Science
what we shall now understand by it, that is,
organised common sense.
When I say Science, I do not mean what
some people are pleased to call Philosophy.
The word “philosopher," which meant originally
“lover of wisdom," has come in some strange
1 Sunday Lecture Society, November 1, 1874 ; Fortnightly
Review, December 1874.
VOL. II
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
way to mean a man who thinks it his business
to explain everything in a certain number of
large books. It will be found, I think, that in
proportion to his colossal ignorance is the
perfection and symmetry of the system which
he sets up; because it is so much easier to put
an empty room tidy than a full one. A man
of science, on the other hand, explains as much
as ever he can, and then he says, “This is all I
can do; for the rest you must ask the next
man." And with regard to such explanations
as he has given, whether the next man comes
at all, whether there is any next man or any
further explanation or no (and we may have to
wait hundreds or even thousands of years before
another step is made),—yet if the original step
was a scientific step, was made by true scientific
methods, and was an organisation of the normal
experience of healthy men, that step will remain
good for ever, no matter how much is left
unexplained by it.
Now the supposition that this subject in
itself is necessarily one which cannot be dis-
cussed to good purpose, that is to say, in such
a way as to lead to definite results, is a mistake.
The fact that the subject has been discussed
for many hundreds of years to no good purpose,
and without leading to definite results, by great
numbers of people, is due to the method which
was employed, and not to the subject itself; and,
BODY AND MIND
in fact, if we like to look in the same way upon
other subjects as we have been accustomed to
look upon metaphysics--if we regard every
man who has written about mathematics or
mechanics as having just the same right to
speak and to be heard that we give to every
man who has written about metaphysics—then
I think we shall find that exactly the same
thing can be said about the most certain
regions of human science.
Those who like to read the last number of
the Edinburgh Review, for example, will find,
from an article on “Comets and Meteors," that
it is at present quite an open question whether
bodies which are shot out from the sun by
eruptive force may not come to circle about
the sun in orbits which are like those of the
planets. Now that is not an open question ;
the supposition is an utterly absurd one, and
has been utterly absurd from the time of
Kepler. Again, those who are curious enough
to read a number of pamphlets that are to be
found here and there may think it is an open
question whether the ratio of the circumference
of a circle to its diameter may not be expressed
by certain finite numbers. It is not an open
question to Science ; it is only open to those
people who do not know any Trigonometry,
and who will not learn it. In exactly the
1 October 1874.

LECTURES AND ESSAYS
same way there are numbers of questions
relating to the connection of the mind with the
body which have ceased to be open questions,
because Science has had her word to say about
them; and they are only open now to people
who do not know what that word of Science is,
and who will not try to learn it.
The whole field of human knowledge may
be divided roughly, for the sake of convenience,
into three great regions. There are first of all
what we call par excellence the Physical Sciences
—those which deal with inanimate matter.
Next, there are those sciences which deal with
organic bodies — the bodies of living things,
whether plants or animals, and the rules
according to which those things move. And
lastly, there are those sciences which make a
further supposition—which suppose that besides
this physical world, including both organic and
inorganic bodies, there are also certain other
facts, namely, that other men besides me, and
most likely other animals besides men, are
conscious. The sciences which make that
supposition are the sciences of Ethics and
Politics, which are still in the practical stage,
and especially the more advanced science which
is now to be considered - Psychology, the
Science of Mind itself; that is to say, the
science of the laws which regulate the succession
of feelings in any one consciousness. Each of
BODY AND MIND
these three great divisions began in the form of
a number of perfectly disconnected subjects,
between which nobody knew of any relation ;
but in the history of science each of them has
been woven together, in consequence of con-
nections being found between the different
subjects included in it, into a complete whole ;
and the further progress of the history of
science requires that each of these great threads,
into which all the little threads have been
twined, should themselves be twined together
into a single string.
• With regard to the first two groups--the
group of mechanical sciences as we may call
them, or the physics of inorganic bodies, and
the group of biological sciences, or the physics
of organic bodies--the gulf between these two
has in these last days been firmly bridged over.
A description of that bridge, and an account of
the doctrines which form it, will be found in
Professor Huxley's admirable lecture delivered
at Belfast before the British Association. That
bridge, as we have it now, is, in the conception
of it, mainly due to Descartes ; but parts of it
have been worked out since his time by a vast
number of physiologists, with the expenditure
of an enormous amount of labour and thought.
Such facts as that discovered by Harvey, that
the movement of the blood was a mere question
of Hydrodynamics, and was to be explained
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
upon the same principles as the motion of
water in pipes--facts like these have been piled
up, one upon another, and have gradually led
to the conclusion that the science of organic
bodies is only a complication of the science of
inorganic bodies.
It would not be advisable here to describe
in detail the stones which compose this bridge ;
but we have to ask whether it is possible to
construct some similar bridge between the now
united Science of Physics, which deals with all
phenomena, whether organic or inorganic, in
fact with all the material world, and the other
science, the Science of Consciousness, which
subject of Ethics. This is the question which
we have now to discuss.
In order to make this bridge a firm one, so
that it will not break down like those which
philosophers have made, it is necessary to
observe with great care what is the exact
difference between the two classes of facts. If
we confuse the two things together to begin
between them, we shall not be likely to find
any explanation which will reduce them to
some common term. The first thing, there-
fore, that we have to do is to realise as clearly
as possible how profound the gulf is between
the facts which we call Physical facts and the
BODY AND MIND
7
facts which we call Mental facts. The differ-
ence is one which has been observed from
primeval times, when man or his pre-human
ancestor found it not good to be alone ; for the
very earliest precept that we find set forth in
all societies to regulate the lives of those who
belong to them is, "Put yourself in his place";
that is to say, ascribe to other men a conscious-
ness which is like your own. And this belief,
which the lowest savage got, that there was
something else than the physical organisation
in other men, is the foundation of Natural
Ethics as well as of the modern Science of
Consciousness. But in very early times an
hypothesis was formed which was supposed to
make this belief easier. If you eat too much
you will dream when you are asleep; if you
eat too little you will dream when you are
awake, or have visions; and those dreams of
savages whose food was very precarious led
them to a biological hypothesis. They saw in
those dreams their fellows, other men, when it
appeared from evidence furnished to them
afterwards that those other men were not there
when they were dreaming. Consequently they
supposed that the actions of the organic body
were caused by some other body which was not
physical in the ordinary sense, which was not
made of ordinary matter, and this other body
was called the Soul. Animism, as Mr. Tylor
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
calls this belief, was at first, then, an hypothesis
in the domain of biology. It was a physical
hypothesis to account for the peculiar way in
which living things went about. But then
when people had got this belief in another
body which was not a physical body, after a
long series of years they reasoned in this way.
It is very difficult indeed to suppose that the
ordinary matter which makes a man's body
can be conscious. This Me is quite different
from the flesh and blood which make up a
man; but then as to this other body, or soul,
we do not know anything about it, so that it
may as well be conscious as not. That
hypothesis put upon the soul, whose basis was
in the phenomena of dreams, the explanation
of the consciousness which we cannot help
believing to exist in other men. I have
mentioned this early hypothesis on the subject,
because out of it grew the almost universal
custom of holding at this time of the year the
Festival of the Dead which we preserve in our
All Souls' Day.
But now let us see what it is that Science
can tell us and what we can believe in place of
that early hypothesis of our savage ancestors.
In the first place, let us consider a little more
narrowly what we mean by the body, and
more especially what we mean by the nervous
system ; for it is the great discovery of
BODY AND MIND
Descartes that the nervous system is that part
of the body which is related directly to the mind.
This can hardly be better expressed than it is
by the first of that series of propositions which
Professor Huxley has stated in his lecture.
I. “ The brain is the organ of sensation,
thought, and emotion ; that is to say, some change
in the condition of the matter of this organ is the
invariable antecedent of the state of consciousness
to which each of these terins is applied.” We
may complete this statement by saying not
only that some change in the matter of this
organ is the invariable antecedent, but that
some other change is the invariable concomitant
of sensation, thought, and emotion; and that is
presently.
• Let us now look at the general structure of
the brain and see what it is like. We can
easily make a rough picture of it, which will
serve our present purpose. A parachute is a
round piece of paper, like the top of a parasol,
with strings going from its circumference to a
cork. Let us imagine a parachute with two
corks, a red and a blue one; each of these
corks being attached by strings, not only to
the circumference of our piece of paper, but to
innumerable points. in the inside of it. More-
over, let innumerable other strings go across
1 [See the diagram at p. 17 below.]
IO
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
from point to point of the paper, like a spider's
web spun in the inside of a parasol. And the
corks themselves must be tied to each other
and to a third cork, say a white one, while from
This is our diagram. Now the sheet of
paper represents the cerebral hernispheres, a great
sheet of gray nervous matter which forms the
outside of your brain, and lies just under your
skull. Our red and blue corks are two other
masses of gray matter lying at the base of the
brain, and called the optic thalami and the
corpora striata respectively. The white cork
is another mass of gray matter called the
medulla oblongata, which is the top of the spinal
cord. Our strings which tie part of the para-
chute together, and our streamers which go out
in all directions from the corks, represent the
nerves, white threads that run all over the
body. And they are of two kinds: there are
some which go to the brain from any part of
the body, and others which come from the
brain to it. As regards the position of the
nerves this is the same thing for both of them,
but it is not the same thing with regard to
what they do. The nerves which are called
Sensory nerves, and which go to the brain, are
those which are excited whenever any part of
the body is touched. When your finger is
touched, a certain excitement is given to the
BODY AND MIND
nerves which end in your finger, and that
excitement is carried along your arm and
away up to the medulla, represented by our
white cork. But when you are going to move
your arm the excitement starts from the brain,
and goes along the other set of nerves which
are called Motor nerves, or moving nerves, and
goes to the muscles which work the part of the
arm which you want to move. And that ex-
citement of the nerves by purely mechanical
means makes those muscles contract so as to
move the part which you want to move. We
have then a connection between the brain and
any part of the body which is of a double kind:
there is the means of sending a message to the
brain from this part of the body, and the means
of taking a message from the brain to this part.
The nerves which carry the message to the
brain are called the “Sensory nerves,” because
they accompany what we call sensation ; the
nerves which carry the message from the brain
are called “Motor nerves," because they are
the agents in the motion of that part of the
body.
All this is expressed in Professor Huxley's
second and third propositions.
II. “The movements of animals are due to
the change of form of the muscles, which shorten
and become thicker; and this change of form in
a muscle arises froin a motion of the substance
I2
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
contained within the nerves which go to the
muscle."
III. “ The sensations of animals are due to a
motion of the substance of the nerves which con-
nect the sensory organs with the brain."
I pass on to his fourth proposition :-
IV. “The motion of the matter of a sensory
nerve may be transmitted through the brain to
motor nerves, and thereby give rise to a contrac-
tion of the muscles to which these motor nerves
are distributed ; and this reflection of motion
froin a sensory into a motor nerve may take
place without volition, or even contrary to it."
Let us take that organ of sense which
always occurs to us as a type of the others,
because it is the most perfect--the eye. The
optic nerve which runs from the eye towards
the brain may be represented by one of our
streamers going to the red cork, to which it is
fastened by a knot that is called the “ Optic
ganglion.” Supposing that you move your
hand rapidly towards anybody's eye, a message
with news of this movement goes along the
nerve to the optic ganglion, and it comes away
back again by another streamer, not direct from
the ganglion, but from a point on the blue cork
very near it, to the muscles which move the
eyelid, and that makes the eye wink. You
know that the winking of the eye, when any-
body moves his hand very rapidly towards it,
BODY AND MIND
is not a thing which you determine to do, and
which you consider about ; it is a thing which
happens without your interference with it; and
in fact it is not you who wink your eye, but
your body that does it. This is called Auto-
matic or involuntary motion, or again it is
called Reflex action, because it is a purely
mechanical thing. A wave runs along that
nerve, and comes back on another nerve, and
that without any deliberation ; and at the point
where it stops and comes back it is just a re-
flection like the wave which you send along a
string, and which comes back from the end of the
string, or like a wave of water which is sent up
against a sea-wall, and which reflects itself back
along the sea.
V.“ The motion of any given portion of the
matter of the brain, excited by the motion of a
sensory nerve, leaves behind it a readiness to be
moved in the same way in that part, and any-
thing which resuscitates the motion gives rise to
the appropriate feeling. This is the physical
Inechanism of inemory." We can, perhaps,
make this a little more clear in the following
manner :-Suppose two messages are sent at
once to the brain ; each of them is reflected
back, but the two disturbances which they set
up in the brain create, in some way or other, a
link between them, so that when one of these
disturbances is set up afterwards the other one
14
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
is also set up. It is as if every time two bells
of a house were rung together, that of itself
made a string to tie them together, so
that when you rang one bell it was necessary
to ring the other bell in consequence. That,
remember, is purely a physical circumstance of
which we know that it happens. There is a
physical excitation or disturbance which is sent
along two different nerves, and which produces
two different disturbances in the brain, and the
effect of these two disturbances taking place
together is to make a change in the character
of the brain itself, so that when the one of them
takes place it produces the other.
Now there are two different ways in which
a stimulus coming to the eye can be made to
move the hand. In the first place, suppose
you are copying out a book; you have the
book before you, and you read the book whilst
you are copying with your hand, and con-
sequently the light coming into your eye from
the book directs your hand to move in a certain
way. It is possible for this light impinging
upon the eye to send a message along the optic
nerve into the ganglion, and that message may
go almost, though not quite, direct to the hand,
so as to make the hand move, and that causes
the hand to describe the letter which you have
seen in the book; or else the message may go
by a longer route which takes more time. A
BODY AND MIND
simple experiment to distinguish between these
processes was tried by Donders, the great
Dutch physiologist. He made a sign to a
man at a distance, and when he made this sign
the man was to put down a key with his hand.
He measured the time which was taken in this
process, that is to say, the time which was taken
by the message in going from the eye to the
ganglion, and then to the hand. Measurements
of the rate of nerve-motions have also been
made by Helmholtz. The velocity varies to a
certain extent in different people, but it is
something like one hundred feet a second.
But Donders also made another measurement.
Suppose it is not decided beforehand whether
the man is to move the key with his right or
left hand, and this is to be determined by the
nature of the signal, then before he can move
his hand he has to decide which hand he will
use. The time taken for that process of de-
cision was also measured. That process of
decision, when looked at from the physical side,
means this. The message goes up from the
eye to the ganglion. It is immediately con-
nected there with the mass of gray matter
represented by our red cork. From that mass
of gray matter there go white threads away to
the whole of the surface of the cerebral hemi-
spheres, or the paper of our parachute, and
they take that message, therefore, which comes
16
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
from the eye to the ganglion away to all this
gray matter which is put round the inside of
your skull. There are also white threads
which connect all the parts of this gray matter
together, and they run across from every part
of it to almost every other part of it. As soon
as a message has been taken to this gray matter,
there is a vast interchange of messages going
on between those parts; but finally, as the
result of that, a number of messages come
upon other white threads to another piece of
gray matter, which is represented by our blue
cork; from that the message is then taken to
the muscles of the hand. There are then two
different ways in which a message may go from
the eye to the hand. It may go to the optic
ganglion, and then almost straight to the hand,
and in that case you do not know much about
it-you only know that something has taken
place, you do not think that you have done it
yourself; or it may go to the optic ganglion,
and be sent up to the cerebral hemispheres, and
then be sent back to the sensory tract and then
on to the hand. But that takes more time,
and it implies that you have deliberated upon
the act.
The diagram here drawn may make this
point more clear. Here E is the eye, R and B
are the red and blue corks, and H is the hand.
The curve C C represents the cerebral hemi-
.
BODY AND MIND
17
spheres, or the top of our parachute. If the
action is so habitually associated with the
signal that it takes place involuntarily, without
any effort of the will, the message goes from
the eye to the hand along the line E RB H.
This may happen with a practised per-
former when it is settled beforehand which
hand he is to use. But if it is necessary to
17

deliberate about the action, to call in the exercise
of the will, the message goes round the loop-
line, E RCCBH; from the eye to the optic.
thalami, from them to the cerebrum, thence to
the corpora striata, and so through the medulla
to the hand.
Besides this fact which we have just ex-
plained, the fact of a message going from one
in the motion of some other part of the body,
there is another thing which is going on
continually, and that is this :—There is a faint
VOL. II
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
reproduction of some excitement which has pre-
viously existed in the cerebral hemispheres, and
which calls up, by the process which we have
just now described, all those that have become
associated with it; and it is continually send-
ing down faint messages which do not actually
tell the muscles to move, but which as it were
begin to tell them to move. They are not
always strong enough to produce actual motions,
but they produce just the beginnings of those
motions : and that process goes on even when
there is apparently no sensation and no motion.
If a man is in a brown study, with his eyes
shut, although he apparently sees and feels
nothing at all, there is a certain action going on
inside his brain which is not sensation, but is
like it, because it is the transmission to the
cerebral hemispheres of faint messages which
are copies of previous sensations; and it does
not produce motion, but it produces something
like it ; it produces incipient motion, the be-
ginnings of motion which do not actually take
effect. Sometimes a train of thought may so
increase in strength as to produce motion. A
man may get so excited by a train of thought
that he jumps up and does something in con-
sequence. And the sensory impressions which
are taken from the ganglia to the hemispheres
may be so strong as to produce an illusion; he
may think that he sees something, he may
BODY AND MIND
19
esenc
think that he sees a ghost, when he does not.
This continuous action of the brain depends
upon the presence of blood; so long as the
proper amount of blood is sent to the brain it
is active, and when the blood is taken away it
becomes inactive. And it is a curious pro-
perty of the nervous system that it can direct
the supply of blood which is to be sent to a
particular part of it. It is possible, by direct-
ing your attention to a particular part of your
hand, to make a determination of blood to that
part which shall in time become a sore place.
Some people have given this explanation, which
seems a very probable one, of what has hap-
pened to those saints who have meditated so
long upon the crucifixion that they have got
what are called stigmata, that is, marks of
wounds corresponding to the wounds they were
thinking about.
That, then, is the general character of the
nervous system which we have to consider in
connection with the mind. There is a train of
facts between stimulus and motion which may
be of two kinds: it may be direct or it may
be indirect, it may go round the loop-line or not;
and also there is a continuous action of the
brain even when these steps are not taking
place in completeness. Moreover, when two
actions take place simultaneously, they form a
sort of link between them, so that if one of
20
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
repeated with it.
That is what we have to
In
brain.
Now let us consider the other class of facts
and the connections between them—the facts
of consciousness. An eminent divine once said
to me that he thought there were only two
kinds of consciousness—to have a feeling, and
to know that you have a feeling. It seems to
me that there is only one kind of consciousness,
and that is to have fifty thousand feelings at
once, and to know them all in different degrees.
Whenever I try to analyse any particular state
of consciousness in which I am, I find that it is
an extremely complex one. I cannot help at
this moment having a consciousness of all the
different parts of this hall, and of a great sea
of faces before me; and I cannot help having
the consciousness, at the same time, of all the
suggestions that that picture makes, that each
face represents a person sitting there and listen-
ing or not, as the case may be. And I cannot
help combining with them at the same moment
a number of actions which they suggest to me,
and in particular the action of going on speak-
ing. There are a great number of elements of
complexity which I cannot describe, because I
am so faintly conscious of them that I cannot
remember them. Any state of our conscious-
BODY AND MIND
21
21
ness, then, as we are at present constituted, is
an exceedingly complex thing ; but it certainly
possesses this property, that if two feelings have
occurred together, and one of them afterwards
occurs again, it is very likely that the other will
be called up by it. That is to say, two states
of consciousness which have taken place at the
same moment produce a link between them, so
that a repetition of the one calls up a repetition
of the other.
Again I find a certain train of facts between
my sensations and my exertions. When I see
a thing, I may go through a long process of
deliberation as to what I shall do with it, and
then afterwards I may do that which I have
deliberated and decided upon. But, on the other
hand, I may, by seeing a thing, be quite suddenly
forced into doing something without any chance
of deliberation at all. If I suddenly see a cab
coming upon me from the corner of a street
where I did not at all expect it, I jump out of
the way without thinking that it is a very
desirable thing to get out of the way of the cab.
But if I see a cab a little while before, and have
more time to think about it, then it occurs to
me that it will be unpleasant and undesirable
to be run over by that cab, and that I can avoid
it by walking out of the way. You here see
that there are in the case of the mind two
distinct trains of facts between sensation and
22
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
exertion. There is an involuntary train of facts
when the exertion follows the sensation without
asking my leave, and there is a voluntary train
in which it does ask my leave.
Then, again, there is this fact : that even
when there is no actual sensation and no actual
exertion, there may still be a long train of facts
and sensations which hang together; there
may be faint reproductions of sensation which
are not so vivid as are the sensations them-
selves, but which form a series of pictures of
sensations which pass continually before my
mind; and there will be faint beginnings of action.
Now the sense in which those are faint begin-
nings of action is very instructive. Any begin-
ning of an action is what we call a judgment.
When you see a thing, you in the first instance
form no judgment about it at all-you are not
prepared to assert any proposition-you merely
have the feeling of a certain sight or sound
presented to you ; but after a very short space
of time, so short that you cannot perceive it,
you begin to frame propositions. If you con-
sider what a proposition means, you will see it
must correspond to the beginning of some sort
of exertion. When you say that A is B, you
mean that you are going to act as if A were B.
If I see water with a particularly dull surface,
and with stones resting upon the surface of it,
then, first of all, I have merely an impression of
BODY AND MIND
23
a certain sheet of colour, and of certain objects
which interrupt the colour of that sheet.
But the second thing that I do is to come to
the conclusion that the water is frozen, and that
therefore I may walk upon it. The assertion
that the water is frozen implies a bundle of
resolves ; which means, given certain other con-
ditions, I shall go and walk upon it. So, then,
an act of judgment or an assertion of any kind
implies a certain incipient action of the muscles,
not actually carried out at that time and place,
but preparing a certain condition of the mind
such as afterwards, when the occasion comes,
will guide the action that we shall take up.
Now, then, what is it that we mean by the
character of a person? You judge of a person's
character by what he thinks and does under
certain circumstances. Let us see what deter-
mines this. We can only be speaking here of
voluntary actions—those actions in which the
person is consulted, and which are not done by
his body without his leave. In those voluntary
actions what takes place is that a certain sensa-
tion is communicated to the mind, the sensation
is manipulated by the mind, and conclusions
are drawn from it, and then a message is sent
out which causes certain motions to take place.
The character of the person is evidently de-
termined by the nature of this manipulation.
If the sensation suggests a wrong thing, the
24
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
character of the person will be bad ; if the
sensation suggests in the great majority of cases
a right thing, you will say that the character of
the person is good. So, then, it is the character
of the mind which determines what it will do
with a given sensation, and what act will follow
from it,---which determines what we call the
personality of any person ; and that character
is persistent in the main, although it is con-
tinually changing a little. The vast mass of it
is a thing which lasts through the whole of
every individual's life, although everything which
happens to him makes some small change in it,
and that constitutes the education of the man.
Then the question arises, Is there anything
else in your consciousness of a different nature
from what we have here described ? That is a
question which every man has to decide by
examining his own consciousness. I do not
find anything else in mine. If you find
anything else in yours, it is extremely im-
portant that you should analyse it and find
out all that you possibly can about it, and
state it in the clearest form to other people;
because it is one of the most important problems
of philosophy to account for the whole of
consciousness out of individual feelings. It
seems to me that the account of which I have
only given a very rough sketch, which was
begun by Locke and Hume, and has been
BODY AND MIND
25
carried out by their successors, chiefly in this
country, is in its great general features complete,
and leaves nothing but more detailed explana-
tions to be desired. It seem to me that I find
nothing in myself which is not accounted for
when I describe myself as a stream of feelings
such that each of them is capable of a faint
repetition, and that when two of them have
occurred together the repetition of the one calls
up the other, and that there are rules according
to which the resuscitated feeling calls up its
fellows. These are, in the main, fixed rules
which determine and are determined by my
character ; but my character is gradually
changing in consequence of the education of
life. It seems to me that this is a complete
account of all the kinds of facts which I can
find in myself; and, as I said before, if any-
body finds any other kinds of facts in himself, it
is an exceedingly important thing that he should
describe them as clearly as he possibly can.
We have described two classes of facts ; let
us now notice the parallelism between them.
First, we have these two parallel facts, that two
actions of the brain which occur together form
a link between themselves, so that the one
being called up the other is called up; and two
states of consciousness which occur together
form a link between them, so that when one is
called up the other is called up. But also we
26
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
find a train of facts between the physical fact
of the stimulus of light going into the eye and
the physical fact of the motion of the muscles.
Corresponding to a part of that train, we have
found a train of facts between sensation, the
mental fact which corresponds to a message
arriving from the eye, and exertion, the mental
fact which corresponds to the motion of the
hand by a message going out along the nerves.
And we have found a correspondence between
the continuous action of the brain and the con-
tinuous existence of consciousness apparently
independent of sensation and exertion.
But let us look at this correspondence a little
more closely ; we shall find that there are one
or two things which can be established with
practical certainty. In the first place, it is not
the whole of the physical train of facts which
corresponds to the mental train of facts. The
beginning of the physical train consists of light
going into the eye and exciting the retina, and
along the optic nerve to the ganglion. For all
we know, and it is a very probable thing, the
mental fact begins here, at the ganglion. There
is no sensation till the message has got to the
optic ganglion, for this reason, that if you press
the optic nerve behind the eye you can produce
telegraph, and sending a message which has not
BODY AND MIND
come from the station from which it ought to
have come; nobody at the other end can tell
whether it has come from that station or not.
The optic ganglion cannot tell whether this
message which comes along the nerve has come
from the eye or is the result of a tapping of the
telegraph, whether it is produced by light or by
pressure upon the nerve. It is a fact of
immense importance that all these nerves are
exactly of the same kind. The only thing
which the nerve does is to transmit a message
which has been given to it; it does not transmit
a message in any other way than the telegraph
wire transmits a message-that is to say, it is
excited at certain intervals, and the succession
of these intervals determines what this message
is, not the nature of the excitation which passes
along the wire. So that if we watched the
nerve excited by pressure the message going
along to the ganglion would be exactly the
same as if it were the actual sight of the eye,
We may draw from this the conclusion that the
mental fact does not begin anywhere before the
optic ganglion. Again, a man who has had
one of his legs cut off can try to move his toes,
which he feels as if they were still there; and
that shows that the consciousness of the motor
impulse which is sent out along the nerve does
not go to the end to see whether it is obeyed
or not. The only way in which we know
28
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
whether our orders, given to any parts of our
body, are obeyed, is by having a message sent
back to say that they are obeyed. If I tell my
hand to press against this black-board the only
way in which I know that it does press is by
having a message sent back by my skin to say
that it is pressed. But supposing there is no
skin there, I can have the exertion that precedes
the action without actually performing it, because
I can send out a message, and consciousness
stops with the sending of the message, and
does not know anything further. So that the
mental fact is somewhere or other in the region
RCCB of the diagram, and does not include
the two ends. That is to say, it is not the
whole of the bodily fact that the mental fact
corresponds to, but only an intermediate part
of it. If it just passes through the points R B,
without going round the loop from C to C, then
we merely have the sensation that something
has taken place we have had no voice in the
nature of it and no choice about it. If it has
gone round from C to C, we have a much larger
fact—we have that fact which we call choice,
or the exercise of volition. We may conclude,
then-I am not able in so short a space as I
have to give you the whole evidence which
goes to an assertion of this kind ; but there is
evidence which is sufficient to satisfy any com-
petent scientific man of this day—that every
BODY AND MIND
fact of consciousness is parallel to some dis-
turbance of nerve matter, although there are
some nervous disturbances which have no
parallel in consciousness, properly so called ;
that is to say, disturbances of my nerves may
exist which have no parallel in my conscious-
ness.
and the parallelism between them. Let us
next observe what an enormous gulf there is
between these two classes of facts.
The state of a man's brain and the actions
which go along with it are things which every
other man can perceive, observe, measure, and
tabulate ; but the state of a man's own con-
sciousness is known to him only, and not to
any other person. Things which appear to us
and which we can observe are called objects or
phenomena. Facts in a man's consciousness
are not objects or phenomena to any other
man; they are capable of being observed only
by him. We have no possible ground, there-
ness as in any sense a part of the physical
world of objects or phenomena. It is a thing
entirely separate from it; and all the evidence
that we have goes to show that the physical
world gets along entirely by itself, according to
practically universal rules. That is to say, the
laws which hold good in the physical world
30
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
hold good everywhere in it-they hold good
with practical universality, and there is no
reason to suppose anything else but those laws
in order to account for any physical fact; there
is no reason to suppose anything but the
universal laws of mechanics in order to account
for the motion of organic bodies. The train of
physical facts between the stimulus sent into
the eye, or to any one of our senses, and the
exertion which follows it, and the train of
physical facts which goes on in the brain, even
when there is no stimulus and no exertion,
these are perfectly complete physical trains,
and every step is fully accounted for by
mechanical conditions. In order to show what
is meant by that, I will endeavour to explain
another supposition which might be made.
When a stimulus comes into the eye there is a
certain amount of energy transferred from the
ether, which fills space, to this nerve ; and this
energy travels along into the ganglion, and sets
the ganglion into a state of disturbance which
may use up some energy previously stored in
it. The amount of energy is the same as
before by the law of the conservation of energy.
That energy is spread over a number of threads
which go out to the brain, and it comes back
again and is reflected from there. It may be
supposed that a very small portion of energy
is created in that process, and that while the
BODY AND MIND
I
31
O
stimulus is going round this loop-line it gets a
little push somewhere, and then, when it comes
back to the ganglia, it goes away to the muscle
and sets loose a store of energy in the muscle
so that it moves the limb. Now the question
is, Is there any creation of energy anywhere?
Is there any part of the physical progress
which cannot be included within ordinary
physical laws ? It has been supposed, I say,
by some people, as it seems to me merely by a
confusion of ideas, that there is, at some part or
other of this process, a creation of energy ; but
there is no reason whatever why we should
suppose this. The difficulty in proving a
negative in these cases is similar to that in
proving a negative about anything which exists
on the other side of the moon. It is quite true
that I am not absolutely certain that the law
of the conservation of energy is exactly true;
but there is no more reason why I should
suppose a particular exception to occur in the
brain than anywhere else. I might just as
well assert that whenever anything passes over
the Line, when it goes from the north side of
the Equator to the south, there is a certain
creation of energy, as that there is a creation
of energy in the brain. If I chose to say that
the amount was so small that none of our
present measurements could appreciate it, it
would be difficult or indeed impossible for
32
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
anybody to disprove that assertion ; but I
should have no reason whatever for making it.
There being, then, an absence of positive
evidence that the conditions are exceptional,
the reasons which lead us to assert that there is
no loss of energy in organic any more than
in inorganic bodies are absolutely overwhelming.
There is no more reason to assert that there is
a creation of energy in any part of an organic
body, because we are not absolutely sure of the
exact nature of the law, than there is reason,
because we do not know what there is on the other
side of the moon, to assert that there is a sky-
blue peacock there with forty-five eyes in his tail.
Therefore it is not a right thing to say, for
example, that the mind is a force, because if
the mind were a force we should be able to
perceive it. I should be able to perceive your
mind and to measure it, but I cannot; I have
absolutely no means of perceiving your mind.
I judge by analogy that it exists, and the
instinct which leads me to come to that con-
clusion is the social instinct, as it has been
formed in me by generations during which men
have lived together; and they could not have
lived together unless they had gone upon that
supposition. But I may very well say that
among the physical facts which go along at the
same time with mental facts there are forces
at work. That is perfectly true, but the two
BODY AND MIND
33
things are on two utterly different platforms—
the physical facts go along by themselves, and
the mental facts go along by themselves.
There is a parallelism between them, but there
is no interference of one with the other. Again,
if anybody says that the will influences matter,
the statement is not untrue, but it is nonsense.
The will is not a material thing, it is not a
mode of material motion. Such an assertion
belongs to the crude materialism of the savage.
The only thing which influences matter is the
position of surrounding matter or the motion of
surrounding matter. It may be conceived that
at the same time with every exercise of volition
there is a disturbance of the physical laws;
but this disturbance, being perceptible to me,
would be a physical fact accompanying the
volition, and could not be the volition itself,
which is not perceptible to me. Whether there
is such a disturbance of the physical laws or no
is a question of fact to which we have the best
of reasons for giving a negative answer ; but
the assertion that another man's volition, a
feeling in his consciousness which I cannot per-
ceive, is part of the train of physical facts which
I may perceive,--this is neither true nor untrue,
but nonsense ; it is a combination of words
whose corresponding ideas will not go together.
Thus we are to regard the body as a
physical machine, which goes by itself according
VOL, II

LECTURES AND ESSAYS
to a physical law, that is to say, is automatic.
An automaton is a thing which goes by itself
when it is wound up, and we go by ourselves
when we have had food. Excepting the fact
that other men are conscious, there is no reason
why we should not regard the human body as
merely an exceedingly complicated machine
which is wound up by putting food into the
mouth. But it is not merely a machine, because
consciousness goes with it. The mind, then,
is to be regarded as a stream of feelings which
runs parallel to, and simultaneous with, a
certain part of the action of the body, that is
to say, that particular part of the action of the
brain in which the cerebrum and the sensory
tract are excited.
Then, you say, if we are automata what
becomes of the freedom of the will ? The
freedom of the will, according to Kant, is that
property which enables us to originate events
independently of foreign determining causes;
which, it seems to me, amounts to saying
precisely that we are automata, that is, that we
go by ourselves, and do not want anybody to
push or pull us. The distinction between an
automaton and a puppet is that the one goes
by itself when it is wound up and the other
requires to be pushed or pulled by wires or
strings. We do not want any stimulus from
without, but we go by ourselves when we have
BODY AND MIND
35
had our food, and therefore so far as that
distinction goes we are automata. But we are
more than automata, because we are conscious ;
mental facts go along with the bodily facts.
That does not hinder us from describing the
bodily facts by themselves, and if we restrict
our attention to them we must describe our-
selves as automata.
The objection which many people feel to
this doctrine is derived, I think, from the
conception of such automata as are made by
man. In that case there is somebody outside
the automaton who has constructed it in a
certain definite way, with definite intentions,
and has meant it to go in that way; and the
whole action of the automaton is determined
by that person outside. If we consider, for
example, a machine such as Frankenstein made,
and imagine ourselves to have been put together
as that fearful machine was put together by a
German student, the conception naturally strikes
us with horror ; but if we consider the actual
fact, we shall see that our own case is not an
analogous one. For, as a matter of fact, we
were not made by any Frankenstein, but we
made ourselves. I do not mean that every
individual has made the whole of his own
character, but that the human race as a whole
has made itself during the process of ages.
The action of the whole race at any given time
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
determines what the character of the race shall
be in the future. From the continual storing
up of the effects of such actions, graven into
the character of the race, there arises in process
of time that exact human constitution which
we now have. By the process of natural
selection all the actions of our ancestors are built
into us and form our character, and in that
made itself. In that sense also we are individu-
ally responsible for what the human race will
be in the future, because every one of our
actions goes to determine what the character of
the race shall be to - morrow. If, on the
contrary, we suppose that in the action of the
brain there is some point where physical causes
do not apply, and where there is a discontinuity,
then it will follow that some of our actions are
not dependent upon our character. Provided
continuous one, subject to physical rules, then
it will depend upon what the character of my
brain is; or if I look at it from the mental
side, it will depend upon what my mental
character is; but if there is a certain point
where the law of causation does not apply,
where my action does not follow by regular
physical causes from what I am, then I am not
responsible for it, because it is not I that do it.
So you see the notion that we are not automata
BODY AND MIND
destroys responsibility ; because, if my actions
are not determined by my character in
accordance with the particular circumstances
which occur, then I am not responsible for
them, and it is not I that do them.
Moreover, if we once admit that physical
causes are not continuous, but that there is
some break, then we leave the way open for
the doctrine of a destiny or a Providence
outside of us, overruling human efforts and
guiding history to a foregone conclusion. Now
of course it is the business of the seeker after
truth to find out whether a proposition is true
or no, and not what are the moral consequences
which may be expected to follow from it.
But I do think that if it is right to call any
doctrine immoral, it is right so to call this
doctrine, when we remember how often it has
paralysed the efforts of those who were climbing
honestly up the hillside towards the light and
the right, and how often it has nerved the
sacrilegious arm of the fanatic or the adventurer
who was conspiring against society.
I want now, very briefly indeed, to consider
to what extent these doctrines furnish a bridge
between the two classes of facts. I have said
that the series of mental facts corresponds to
only a portion of the action of the organism.
But we have to consider not only ourselves,
but also those animals which are next below
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
us in the scale of organisation, and we cannot
help ascribing to them a consciousness which
is analogous to our own. We find, when we
attempt to enter into that, and to judge by
their actions what sort of consciousness they
possess, that it differs from our own in precisely
the same way that their brains differ from our
brains. There is less of the co-ordination
which is implied by a message going round the
loop - line. A much larger number of the
messages which go in at a cat's eyes and come
out at her paws go straight through without
any loop-line at all than do so in the case of a
man; but still there is a little loop-line left.
organisation the less of this loop-line there is ;
yet we cannot suppose that so enormous a
jump from one creature to another should have
occurred at any point in the process of evolution
as the introduction of a fact entirely different
and absolutely separate from the physical fact.
It is impossible for anybody to point out the
event can be supposed to have taken place.
The only thing that we can come to, if we
accept the doctrine of evolution at all, is that
even in the very lowest organisms, even in the
Ameba which swims about in our own blood,
there is something or other, inconceivably
simple to us, which is of the same nature with

BODY AND MIND
39
our own consciousness, although not of the
same complexity—that is to say (for we cannot
stop at organic matter, knowing as we do that
it must have arisen by continuous physical
processes out of inorganic matter), we are
obliged to assume, in order to save continuity
in our belief, that along with every motion of
matter, whether organic or inorganic, there is
some fact which corresponds to the mental
fact in ourselves. The mental fact in ourselves
is an exceedingly complex thing ; so also our
brain is an exceedingly complex thing. We
may assume that the quasi-mental fact which
corresponds and which goes along with the
motion of every particle of matter is of such
own mental fact, with our consciousness, as the
motion of a molecule of matter is of in-
conceivable simplicity when compared with the
motion in our brain.
This doctrine is not merely a speculation,
that have studied this question in the right way
time.
Again, let us consider what takes place
when we perceive anything by means of our
eye. A certain picture is produced upon the
retina of the eye, which is like the picture
on the ground-glass plate in a photographic
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
camera; but it is not there that the con-
sciousness begins, as I have shown before.
When I see anything there is a picture pro-
duced on the retina, but I am not conscious of
it there; and in order that I may be conscious
the message must be taken from each point of
this picture along the special nerve-fibre to the
ganglion. These innumerable fine nerves which
come away from the retina go each of them to
a particular point of the ganglion, and the
result is that, corresponding to that picture at
the back of the retina, there is a disturbance of
a great number of centres of gray matter in
the ganglion. If certain parts of the retina of
my eye, having light thrown upon them, are
disturbed so as to produce the figure of a
square, then certain little pieces of gray matter
in this ganglion, which are distributed we do
not know how, will also be disturbed, and the
impression corresponding to that is a square.
Consciousness belongs to this disturbance of
the ganglion, and not to the picture in the eye ;
and therefore it is something quite different
from the thing which is perceived. But at the
same time, if we consider another man looking
at something, we shall say that the fact is
this—there is something outside of him which
is matter in motion, and that which corresponds
inside of him is also matter in motion. The
external motion of matter produces in the
BODY AND MIND
41
11
optic ganglion something which corresponds to
it, but is not like it. Although for every point
in the object there is a point of disturbance in
the optic ganglion, and for every connection
between two points in the object there is a
connection between two disturbances, yet they
are not like one another. Nevertheless they
are made of the same stuff; the object outside
and the optic ganglion are both matter, and
that matter is made of molecules moving about
in ether. When I consider the impression
which is produced upon my mind of any fact,
that is just a part of my mind ; the impression
is a part of me. The hall which I see now is
just an impression produced on my mind by
something outside of it, and that impression is
a part of me.
We may conclude from this theory of
sensation, which is established by the discoveries
of Helmholtz, that the feeling which I have in
my mind—the picture of this hall-is some-
thing corresponding, point for point, to the
actual reality outside. Though every small
part of the reality which is outside corresponds
to a small part of my picture, though every con-
nection between two parts of that reality outside
corresponds to a connection between two parts
of my picture, yet the two things are not alike.
They correspond to one another, just as a map
may be said in a certain sense to correspond ·
42 .
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
with the country of which it is a map, or as a
written sentence may be said to correspond
to a spoken sentence. But then I may con-
clude from what I said before that, although
the two corresponding things are not alike, yet
they are made of the same stuff. Now what is
my picture made of? My picture is made of
exceedingly simple mental facts, so simple that
I only feel them in groups. My picture is
made up of these elements; and I am therefore
to conclude that the real thing which is outside
me, and which corresponds to my picture, is
made up of similar things; that is to say, the
reality which underlies matter, the reality which
we perceive as matter, is that same stuff which,
being compounded together in a particular way,
produces mind. What I perceive as your brain
is really in itself your consciousness, is You;
but then that which I call your brain, the
material fact, is merely my perception. Suppose
we put a certain man in the middle of the
hall, and we all looked at him. We should
all have perceptions of his brain; those would
be facts in our consciousness, but they would be
all different facts. My perception would be

and it would be another picture, although it
might be very like it. So that corresponding
to all those pictures which are produced in our
minds from an external object there is a reality
BODY AND MIND
43
which is not like the pictures, but which
corresponds to them point for point, and which
is made of the same stuff that the pictures are.
The actual reality which underlies what we call
matter is not the same thing as the mind, is
not the same thing as our perception, but it is
made of the same stuff. To use the words of
the old disputants, we may say that matter is
not of the same substance as mind, not
homoousion, but it is of like substance, it is
made of similar stuff differently compacted
together, homoiousion. ?
With the exception of just this last bridge
connecting the two great regions of inquiry
that we have been discussing, the whole of
what I have said is a body of doctrine which is
accepted now, as far as I know, by all competent
people who have considered the subject. There
are, of course, individual exceptions with regard
to particular points, such as that I have
mentioned about the possible creation of energy
in the brain ; but these are few, and they occur
mainly, I think, among those who are so
exceedingly well acquainted with one side of
the subject that they regard the whole of it
from the point of view of that side, and do not
sufficiently weigh what may come from the
other side. With such exceptions as those,
and with the exception of the last speculation
of all, the doctrine which I have expounded to
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
you is the doctrine of Science at the present
day.
These results may now be applied to the
consideration of certain questions which have
always been of great interest. The application
which I shall make is a purely tentative one,
and must be regarded as merely indicating that
such an application becomes more possible every
day. The first of these questions is that of the
possible existence of consciousness apart from a
nervous system, of mind without body. Let
us first of all consider the effect upon this
question of the doctrines which are admitted
by all competent scientific men. All the con-
sciousness that we know of is associated with a
brain in a certain definite manner, namely, it is
built up out of elements in the same way as
part of the action of the brain is built up out
of elements; an element of one corresponds to
an element in the other; and the mode of con-
nection, the shape of the building, is the same
in the two cases. The mere fact that all the
consciousness we know of is associated with
certain complex forms of matter need only
make us exceedingly cautious not to imagine
any consciousness apart from matter without
very good reason indeed ; just as the fact of all
swans having turned out white up to a certain
time made us quite rightly careful about accept-
ing stories that involved black swans. But the
BODY AND MIND
45
fact that mind and brain are associated in a
definite way, and in that particular way that I
have mentioned, affords a very strong presump-
tion that we have here something which can be
explained; that it is possible to find a reason
for this exact correspondence. If such a reason
can be found, the case is entirely altered ; in-
stead of a provisional probability which may
rightly make us cautious, we should have the
highest assurance that Science can give, a
practical certainty on which we are bound to
act, that there is no mind without a brain.
Whatever, therefore, is the probability that an
explanation exists of the connection of mind
with brain in action, such is also the probability
that each of them involves the other.
If, however, that particular explanation
which I have ventured to offer should turn out
to be the true one, the case becomes even
stronger. If mind is the reality or substance
of that which appears to us as brain-action, the
supposition of mind without brain is the sup-
position of an organised material substance not
affecting other substances (for if it did it might
be perceived), and therefore not affected by them;
in other words, it is the supposition of im-
material matter, a contradiction in terms to the
fundamental assumption of the uniformity of
nature, without practically believing in which
we should none of us have been here to-day.
46
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
But if mind without brain is a contradiction, is
it not still possible that an organisation like
the brain can exist without being perceived,
without our being able to hold it fast, and
weigh it, and cut it up? Now this is a
physical question, and we know quite enough
about the physical world to say, “Certainly not.”
It is made of atoms and ether, and there is no
room in it for ghosts.
The other question which may be asked is
this : Can we regard the universe, or that part
of it which immediately surrounds us, as a vast
brain, and therefore the reality which underlies
it as a conscious mind? This question has
been considered by the great naturalist Du Bois
Reymond, and has received from him that
negative answer which I think we also must
give. For we found that the particular
organisation of the brain which enables its
action to run parallel with consciousness
amounts to this—that disturbances run along
definite channels, and that two disturbances
which occur together establish links between
the channels along which they run, so that they
naturally occur together again. It will, I think, .
be clear to every one that these are not char-
acteristics of the great interplanetary spaces.
Is it not possible, however, that the stars we can
see are just atoms in some vast organism, bear-
ing some such relation to it as the atoms which
BODY AND MIND
make up our brains bear to us? I am sure I
do not know. But it seems clear that the
knowledge of such an organism could not ex-
tend to events taking place on the earth, and
that its volition could not be concerned in them.
And if some vast brain existed far away in
space, being invisible because not self-luminous,
then, according to the laws of matter at present
known to us, it could affect the Solar system
only by its weight.
On the whole, therefore, we seem entitled to
conclude that during such time as we can have
evidence of, no intelligence or volition has been
concerned in events happening within the range
of the Solar system, except that of animals
living on the planets. The weight of such
probabilities is, of course, estimated differently
by different people, and the questions are only
just beginning to receive the right sort of
attention. But it does seem to me that we
may expect in time to have negative evidence on
this point of the same kind and of the same
cogency as that which forbids us to assume the
existence between the Earth and Venus of a
planet as large as either of them.
Now, about these conclusions which I have
described as probable ones, there are two things
that may be said. In the first place, it may be
said that they make the world a blank, because
they take away the objects of very important
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
and widespread emotions of hope and rever-
ence and love, which are human faculties and
require to be exercised, and that they destroy
the motives for good conduct. To this it may
be answered that we have no right to call the
world a blank while it is full of men and
women, even thcugh our one friend may be
lost to us. And in the regular everyday facts
of this common life of men, and in the promise
which it holds out for the future, there is room
enough and to spare for all the high and noble
emotions of which our nature is capable. More-
over, healthy emotions are felt about facts and
not about phantoms; and the question is not
“What conclusion will be most pleasing or
elevating to my feelings?” but “What is the
truth?” For it is not all human faculties that
have to be exercised, but only the good ones.
It is not right to exercise the faculty of feeling
terror or of resisting evidence. And if there
are any faculties which prevent us from accept-
ing the truth and guiding our conduct by it,
these faculties ought not to be exercised. As
for the assertion that these conclusions destroy
the motive for good conduct, it seems to me
that it is not only utterly untrue, but, because
of its great influence upon human action, one
of the most dangerous doctrines that can be set
forth. The two questions which we have last
discussed are exceedingly difficult and complex
BODY AND MIND
questions ; the ideas and the knowledge which
we used in their discussion are the product of
long centuries of laborious investigation and
thought; and perhaps, although we all make
our little guesses, there is not one man in a
million who has any right to a definite opinion
about them. But it is not necessary to answer
these questions in order to tell an honest man
from a rogue. The distinction of right and
wrong grows up in the broad light of day out
of natural causes wherever men live together ;
and the only right motive to right action is to
be found in the social instincts which have been
bred into mankind by hundreds of generations
of social life. In the target of every true Eng-
lishman's allegiance the bull's-eye belongs to
his countrymen, who are visible and palpable
and who stand around him ; not to any far-off
shadowy centre beyond the hills, ultra montes,
either at Rome or in heaven. Duty to one's
countrymen and fellow-citizens, which is the
social instinct guided by reason, is in all healthy
communities the one thing sacred and supreme.
If the course of things is guided by some un-
seen intelligent person, then this instinct is his
highest and clearest voice, and because of it we
may call him good. But if the course of things
is not so guided, that voice loses nothing of its
sacredness, nothing of its clearness, nothing of
its obligation.
VOL. II
50
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
In the second place it may be said that
Science ought not to deal with these questions
at all; that while scientific men are concerned
with physical facts, they are dans leur droit, but
that in treating of such subjects as these they
are going out of their domain, and must do
harm.
What is the domain of Science? It is all
possible human knowledge which can rightly
be used to guide human conduct.
[ In many parts of Europe it is customary to
leave a part of the field untilled for the Brownie
to live in, because he cannot live in cultivated
ground. And if you grant him this grace, he
for you in the night while you sleep. In Scot-
land the piece of ground which is left wild for
him to live in is called "the good man's croft."
Now there are people who indulge a hope that
the ploughshare of Science will leave a sort of
good man's croft around the field of reasoned
truth; and they promise that in that case a
good deal of our civilising work shall be done
for us in the dark, by means we know nothing
of. I do not share this hope ; and I feel very
sure that it will not be realised : I think that
we should do our work with our own hands in
a healthy straightforward way. It is idle to
set bounds to the purifying and organising
work of Science. Without mercy and without
BODY AND MIND
51
resentment she ploughs up weed and briar ;
from her footsteps behind her grow up corn
and healing flowers; and no corner is far
enough to escape her furrow. Provided only
that we take as our motto and our rule of
action, Man speed the plough.
ON THE NATURE OF THINGS-IN-
THEMSELVES?
MEANING OF THE INDIVIDUAL OBJECT
My feelings arrange and order themselves in
two distinct ways. There is the internal or
subjective order, in which sorrow succeeds the
hearing of bad news, or the abstraction “dog"
symbolises the perception of many different
dogs. And there is the external or objective
order, in which the sensation of letting go is
followed by the sight of a falling object and
the sound of its fall. The objective order, qua
order, is treated by physical science, which in-
vestigates the uniform relations of objects in
time and space. Here the word object (or
phenomenon) is taken merely to mean a group
of my feelings, which persists as a group in a
certain manner; for I am at present consider-
ing only the objective order of my feelings.
The object, then, is a set of changes in my
consciousness, and not anything out of it. Here
1 Mind, January 1878.
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
53
is as yet no metaphysical doctrine, but only a
fixing of the meaning of a word. We may
subsequently find reason to infer that there is
something which is not object, but which cor-
responds in a certain way with the object; this
will be a metaphysical doctrine, and neither it
nor its denial is involved in the present deter-
mination of meaning. But the determination
must be taken as extending to all those infer-
ences which are made by science in the objec-
tive order. If I hold that there is hydrogen in
the sun, I mean that if I could get some of it
in a bottle, and explode it with half its volume
of oxygen, I should get that group of possible
sensations which we call “water.” The infer-
ences of physical science are all inferences of
my real or possible feelings ; inferences of
something actually or potentially in my con-
sciousness, not of anything outside it.
DISTINCTION OF OBJECT AND EJECT
There are, however, some inferences which
are profoundly different from those of physical
science. When I come to the conclusion that
you are conscious, and that there are objects in
your consciousness similar to those in mine, I
am not inferring any actual or possible feelings
of my own, but your feelings, which are not,
and cannot by any possibility become, objects
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
in my consciousness. The complicated pro-
cesses of your body and the motions of your
brain and nervous system, inferred from evi-
dence of anatomical researches, are all inferred
as things possibly visible to me. However
remote the inference of physical science, the
thing inferred is always a part of me, a possible
set of changes in my consciousness bound up
in the objective order with other known changes.
But the inferred existence of your feelings, of
objective groupings among them similar to
those among my feelings, and of a subjective
order in many respects analogous to my own,-
these inferred existences are in the very act of
inference thrown out of my consciousness,
recognised as outside of it, as not being a part
of me. I propose, accordingly, to call these
inferred existences ejects, things thrown out of
my consciousness, to distinguish them from
objects, things presented in my consciousness,
phenomena. It is to be noticed that there is a
set of changes of my consciousness symbolic of
the eject, which may be called my conception
of you; it is (I think) a rough picture of the
whole aggregate of my consciousness, under
imagined circumstances like yours; qua group
of my feelings, this conception is like the object
in substance and constitution, but differs from
it in implying the existence of something that
is not itself, but corresponds to it, namely, of
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
55
SI
U
the eject. The existence of the object, whether
perceived or inferred, carries with it a group of
beliefs; these are always beliefs in the future
sequence of certain of my feelings. The exist-
ence of this table, for example, as an object
in my consciousness, carries with it the belief
that if I climb up on it I shall be able to walk
about on it as if it were the ground. But the
existence of my conception of you in my con-
sciousness carries with it a belief in the exist-
ence of you outside of my consciousness, a
belief which can never be expressed in terms
of the future sequence of my feelings. How
this inference is justified, how consciousness can
testify to the existence of anything outside of
itself, I do not pretend to say ; I need not
untie a knot which the world has cut for me
long ago. It may very well be that I myself
am the only existence, but it is simply ridi-
culous to suppose that anybody else is. The
position of absolute idealism may, therefore, be
left out of count, although each individual may
be unable to justify his dissent from it.
FORMATION OF THE SOCIAL OBJECT
The belief, however, in the existence of other
men's consciousness, in the existence of ejects,
dominates every thought and every action of
our lives. In the first place, it profoundly
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
modifies the object. This room, the table, the
chairs, your bodies, are all objects in my con-
sciousness; as simple objects, they are parts of
me. But I somehow infer the existence of
similar objects in your consciousness, and these
are not objects to me, nor can they ever be
made so; they are ejects. This being so, I
bind up with each object as it exists in my
other men's minds; and I thus form the com-
plex conception, “this table as an object in
the minds of men,”-or, as Mr. Shadworth
Hodgson puts it, an object of consciousness
in general. This conception symbolises an
indefinite number of ejects, together with one
object which the conception of each eject more
or less resembles. Its character is therefore
mainly ejective in respect of what it symbolises,
but mainly objective in respect of its nature. I
shall call this complex conception the social
object; it is a symbol of one thing (the in-
dividual object, it may be called for distinction's
sake) which is in my consciousness, and of an
indefinite number of other things which are
probable that the individual object, as such,
never exists in the mind of man. For there
is every reason to believe that we were grega-
rious animals before we became men properly
so called. And a belief in the eject-some
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
57
sort of recognition of a kindred consciousness
in one's fellow-beings-is clearly a condition of
gregarious action among animals so highly devel-
oped as to be called conscious at all. Lạnguage,
even in its first beginnings, is impossible with-
out that belief; and any sound which, becom-
ing a sign to my neighbour, becomes thereby
a mark to myself, must by the nature of the
case be a mark of the social object, and not of
the individual object. But if not only this concep-
tion of the particular social object, but all those
that have been built up out of it, have been
formed at the same time with, and under the
influence of, language, it seems to follow that
the belief in the existence of other men's minds
like our own, but not part of us, must be in-
separably associated with every process whereby
discrete impressions are built together into an
object. I do not, of course, mean that it pre-
sents itself in consciousness as distinct; but I
mean that as an object is formed in my mind,
a fixed habit causes it to be formed as a social
object, and insensibly embodies in it a reference
to the minds of other men. And this sub-
conscious reference to supposed ejects is what
constitutes the impression of externality in the
object, whereby it is described as not-me. At
any rate, the formation of the social object
supplies an account of this impression of out-
ness, without requiring me to assume any ejects
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
or things outside my consciousness except the
minds of other men. Consequently, it cannot be
argued from the impression of outness that there
is anything outside of my consciousness except
the minds of other men. I shall argue presently
that we have grounds for believing in non-
personal ejects, but these grounds are not in any
way dependent on the impression of outness,
and they are not included in the ordinary or com-
mon-sense view of things. It seems to me that
the prevailing belief of uninstructed people is
merely a belief in the social object, and not in a
non-personal eject, somehow corresponding to it;
and that the question whether the latter exists or
not is one which cannot be put to them so as to
convey any meaning without considerable pre-
liminary training. On this point I agree entirely
with Berkeley, and not with Mr. Spencer.
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MIND AND BODY
I do not pause to show how belief in the
Eject underlies the whole of natural ethic,
whose first great commandment, evolved in the
light of day by healthy processes wherever men
have lived together, is, “Put yourself in his
place.” It is more to my present purpose to
point out what is the true difference between
body and mind. Your body is an object in
my consciousness; your mind is not, and never
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
59
P
can be. Being an object, your body follows
the laws of physical science, which deals with
the objective order of my feelings. That its
chemistry is ordinary chemistry, its physics
ordinary physics, its mechanics ordinary
mechanics, may or may not be true; the
circumstances are exceptional, and it is con-
ceivable (to persons ignorant of the facts) that
allowance may have to be made for them, even
in the expression of the most general laws of
nature. But in any case, every question about
your body is a question about the physical laws
of matter, and about nothing else. To say :
“Up to this point science can explain ; here
the soul steps in," is not to say what is untrue,
but to talk nonsense. If evidence were found
that the matter constituting the brain behaved
otherwise than ordinary matter, or if it were
impossible to describe vital actions as particular
examples of general physical rules, this would
be a fact in physics, a fact relating to the motion
of matter; and it must either be explained by
further elaboration of physical science or else
our conception of the objective order of our
feelings would have to be changed. The
question, “Is the mind a force ?” is con-
demned by similar considerations. A certain
variable quality of matter (the rate of change
of its motion) is found to be invariably con-
nected with the position relatively to it of other
60
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
matter; considered as expressed in terms of
this position, the quality is called Force. Force
is thus an abstraction relating to objective facts;
it is a mode of grouping of my feelings, and
cannot possibly be the same thing as an eject,
another man's consciousness. But the question:
“Do the changes in a man's consciousness run
parallel with the changes of motion, and there-
fore with the forces in his brain ? " is a real
question, and not prima facie nonsense. Objec-
tions of like character may be raised against
the language of some writers who speak of
changes in consciousness as caused by actions
on the organism. The word Cause, mollayas
Leyouevov and misleading as it is, having no
legitimate place in science or philosophy, may
yet be of some use in conversation or literature,
if it is kept to denote a relation between
objective facts, to describe certain parts of the
phenomenal order. But only confusion can
arise if it is used to express the relation
between certain objective facts in my con-
sciousness and the ejective facts which are
inferred as corresponding in some way to them
and running parallel with them. For all that we
know at present, this relation does not in any
way resemble that expressed by the word Cause.
To sum up, the distinction between eject
and object, properly grasped, forbids us to
regard the eject, another. man's mind, as
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
61
coming into the world of objects in any way,
or as standing in the relation of cause or
effect to any changes in that world. I need
hardly add that the facts do very strongly lead
us to regard our bodies as merely complicated
examples of practically universal physical rules,
and their motions as determined in the same
way as those of the sun and the sea. There is
no evidence which amounts to a prima facie case
against the dynamical uniformity of Nature;
and I make no exception in favour of that
slykick force which fills existing lunatic asylums
and makes private houses into new ones.
CORRESPONDENCE OF ELEMENTS OF MIND
AND BRAIN-ACTION
I have already spoken of certain ejective
facts-the changes in your consciousness-as
running parallel with the changes in your brain,
which are objective facts. The parallelism
here meant is a parallelism of complexity, an
analogy of structure. A spoken sentence and
the same sentence written are two utterly unlike
things, but each of them consists of elements;
the spoken sentence of the elementary sounds
of the language, the written sentence of its
alphabet. Now the relation between the
spoken sentence and its elements is very nearly
the same as the relation between the written
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
:
sentence and its elements. There is a corre-
spondence of element to element; although an
elementary sound is quite a different thing
mentary sound belongs to a certain letter or
letters. And the sounds being built up together
to form a spoken sentence, the letters are built
up together, in nearly the same way, to form the
written sentence. The two complex products
are as wholly unlike as the elements are, but
the manner of their complication is the same.
Or, as we should say in the mathematics, a
sentence spoken is the same function of the
elementary sounds as the same sentence written
is of the corresponding letters.
Of such a nature is the correspondence or
parallelism between mind and body. The
fundamental "deliverance” of consciousness
affirms its own complexity. It seems to me
impossible, as I am at present constituted, to
have only one absolutely simple feeling at a
time. Not only are my objective perceptions,
as of a man's head or a candlestick, formed of
a great number of parts ordered in a definite
manner, but they are invariably accompanied
by an endless string of memories, all equally
complex. And those massive organic feelings
nection with the objective order, the notion of
consciousness has been chiefly associated,
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
63
those also turn out, when attention is directed
to them, to be complex things.' In reading
over a former page of my manuscript, for
instance, I found suddenly, on reflection, that
although I had been conscious of what I was
reading I paid no attention to it; but had been
mainly occupied in debating whether faint red
lines would not be better than blue ones to
write upon, in picturing the scene in the shop
when I should ask for such lines to be ruled,
and in reflecting on the lamentable helpless-
ness of nine men out of ten when you ask them
to do anything slightly different from what they
have been accustomed to do. This debate had
been started by the observation that my hand-
writing varied in size according to the nature
of the argument, being larger when that was
diffuse and explanatory, Occupied with a
supposed audience; and smaller when it was
close, occupied only with the sequence of
propositions. Along with these trains of
thought went the sensation of noises made by
poultry, dogs, children, and organ - grinders ;
and that vague diffused feeling in the side of
the face and head which means a probable
toothache in an hour or two. Under these
circumstances, it seems to me that consciousness
must be described as a succession of groups of
changes, as analogous to a rope made of a great
number of occasionally interlacing strands.
64
LECTURES AND ESSAYS:
This being so, it will be said that there is a
varied feelings it is I who am conscious, and
that this sense of personality, the self-perception
of the Ego, is one and indivisible. It seems to
me (here agreeing with Hume) that the “unity
of apperception" does not exist in the in-
stantaneous consciousness which it unites, but
only in subsequent reflection upon it; and that
it consists in the power of establishing a certain
connection between the memories of any two
feelings which we had at the same instant. A
feeling, at the instant when it exists, exists an
und für sich, and not as iny feeling ; but when
on reflection I remember it as my feeling, there
comes up not merely a faint repetition of the
feeling, but inextricably connected with it a
whole set of connections with the general stream
of my consciousness. This memory, again, qua
memory, is relative to the past feeling which it
partially recalls ; but in so far as it is itself a
feeling, it is absolute, Ding - an - sich. The
feeling of personality, then, is a certain feeling
of connection between faint images of past
feelings; and personality itself is the fact that
such connections are set up, the property of the
stream of feelings that part of it consists of
links binding together faint reproductions of
previous parts. It is thus a relative thing, a
mode of complication of certain elements, and
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
65
a property of the complex so produced. This
complex is consciousness. When a stream of
feelings is so compact together that at each
instant it consists of (1) new feelings, (2) fainter
repetitions of previous ones, and (3) links con-
necting these repetitions, the stream is called a
consciousness. A far more complicated group-
ing than is necessarily implied here is estab-
lished when discrete impressions are run together
into the perception of an object. The conception
of a particular object, as object, is a group of
feelings symbolic of many different perceptions,
and of links between them and other feelings.
The distinction between Subject and Object is
twofold; first, the distinction with which we
started between the subjective and objective
orders which simultaneously exist in my feelings ;
and secondly, the distinction between me and
the social object, which involves the distinction
between me and you. Either of these dis-
tinctions is exceedingly complex and abstract,
involving a highly organised experience. It is
not, I think, possible to separate one from the
other; for it is just the objective order which I
do suppose to be common to me and to other
minds.
I need not set down here the evidence which
shows that the complexity of consciousness is
paralleled by complexity of action in the brain.
It is only necessary to point out what
VOL. II
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
appears to me to be a consequence of the
discoveries of Müller and Helmholtz in regard
to sensation : that at least those distinct feel-
ings which can be remembered and examined
by reflection are paralleled by changes in a
portion of the brain only. In the case of sight,
for example, there is a message taken from
things outside to the retina, and therefrom sent
in somewhither by the optic nerve ; now we
can tap this telegraph at any point and produce
the sensation of sight, without any impression
on the retina. It seems to follow that what is
known directly is what takes place at the inner
end of this nerve, or that the consciousness of
sight is simultaneous and parallel in complexity
with the changes in the gray matter at the
internal extremity, and not with the changes in
the nerve itself, or in the retina. So also a
pain in a particular part of the body may be
mimicked by neuralgia due to lesion of another
part.
We come then, finally, to say that as your
consciousness is made up of elementary feelings
grouped together in various ways (ejective
facts), so a part of the action in your brain is
made up of more elementary actions in parts of
it, grouped together in the same ways (objective
facts). The knowledge of this correspondence
is a help to the analysis of both sets of facts;
but it teaches us in particular that any feeling,
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
67
however apparently simple, which can be
retained and examined by reflection, is already
itself a most complex structure. We may,
however, conclude that this correspondence
extends to the elements, and that each simple
feeling corresponds to a special comparatively
simple change of nerve-matter.
THE ELEMENTARY FEELING IS A THING-IN-
ITSELF
The conclusion that elementary feeling
co-exists with elementary brain-motion in the
same way as consciousness co-exists with com-
plex brain-motion involves more important con-
sequences than might at first sight appear. We
have regarded consciousness as a complex of
feelings, and explained the fact that the com-
plex is conscious as depending on the mode of
complication. But does not the elementary
feeling itself imply a consciousness in which
alone it can exist, and of which it is a modifi-
cation? Can a feeling exist by itself, without
forming part of a consciousness? I shall say
no to the first question, and yes to the second,
and it seems to me that these answers are
required by the doctrine of evolution. For if
that doctrine be true, we shall have along the
line of the human pedigree a series of imper-
ceptible steps connecting inorganic matter with
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
ourselves. To the later members of that series
we must undoubtedly ascribe consciousness,
although it must, of course, have been simpler
than our own. But where are we to stop ?
In the case of organisms of a certain complexity
consciousness is inferred. As we go back along
the line, the complexity of the organism and of
its nerve-action insensibly diminishes; and for
the first part of our course we see reason to
think that the complexity of consciousness
insensibly diminishes also. But if we make a
jump, say to the tunicate molluscs, we see no
reason there to infer the existence of conscious-
ness at all. Yet not only is it impossible to
point out a place where any sudden break takes
place, but it is contrary to all the natural train-
ing of our minds to suppose a breach of con-
tinuity so great. All this imagined line of
organisms is a series of objects in my conscious-
ness; they form an insensible gradation, and
yet there is a certain unknown point at which
I am at liberty to infer facts out of my con-
sciousness corresponding to them! There is
only one way out of the difficulty, and to that
we are driven. Consciousness is a complex of
ejective facts,--of elementary feelings, or rather
of those remoter elements which cannot even
be felt, but of which the simplest feeling is built
up. Such elementary ejective facts go along
with the action of every organism, however
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
69
simple; but it is only when the material
organism has reached a certain complexity of
nervous structure (not now to be specified) that
the complex of ejective facts reaches that mode
of complication which is called Consciousness.
But as the line of ascent is unbroken, and must
end at last in inorganic matter, we have no
choice but to admit that every motion of matter
is simultaneous with some ejective fact or event
which might be part of a consciousness. From
this follow two important corollaries.
1. A feeling can exist by itself, without
forming part of a consciousness. It does not
depend for its existence on the consciousness
of which it may form a part. Hence a feeling
(or an eject-element) is Ding-an-sich, an absolute,
whose existence is not relative to anything else.
Sentitur is all that can be said.
2. These eject-elements, which correspond
to motions of matter, are connected together in
their sequence and co-existence by counterparts
of the physical laws of matter. For otherwise
the correspondence could not be kept up.
MIND-STUFF IS THE REALITY WHICH WE
PERCEIVE AS MATTER
That element of which, as we have seen,
even the simplest feeling is a complex, I shall
call Mind-stuff. A moving molecule of in-
70
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
organic matter does not possess mind or con-
sciousness; but it possesses a small piece of
mind-stuff. When molecules are so combined
together as to form the film on the under side
of a jelly-fish, the elements of mind-stuff which
go along with them are so combined as to form
the faint beginnings of Sentience. When the
molecules are so combined as to form the brain
and nervous system of a vertebrate, the corre-
sponding elements of mind-stuff are so com-
bined as to form some kind of consciousness ;
that is to say, changes in the complex which
take place at the same time get so linked
together that the repetition of one implies the
repetition of the other. When matter takes
the complex form of a living human brain, the
corresponding mind-stuff takes the form of a
human consciousness, having intelligence and
volition.
Suppose that I see a man looking at a
candlestick. Both of these are objects, or
phenomena, in my mind. An image of the
candlestick, in the optical sense, is formed upon
his retina, and nerve messages go from all parts
of this to form what we may call a cerebral
image somewhere in the neighbourhood of the
optic thalami in the inside of his brain. This
cerebral image is a certain complex of disturb-
ances in the matter of these organs; it is a
material or physical fact, therefore a group of
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES 71
my possible sensations, just as the candlestick
is. The cerebral image is an imperfect repre-
sentation of the candlestick, corresponding to it
point for point in a certain way. Both the
candlestick and the cerebral image are matter ;
but one material complex represents the other
material complex in an imperfect way.
Now the candlestick is not the external
reality whose existence is represented in the
man's mind; for the candlestick is a mere per-
ception in my mind. Nor is the cerebral image
the man's perception of the candlestick ; for
the cerebral image is merely an idea of a
possible perception in my mind. But there is
a perception in the man's mind, which we may
call the mental image ; and this corresponds to
some external reality. The external reality
bears the same relation to the mental image that
the phenomenal candlestick bears to the cerebral
image. Now the candlestick and the cerebral
image are both matter; they are made of the
same stuff. Therefore the external reality is
made of the same stuff as the man's perception
or mental image, that is, it is made of mind-stuff.
And as the cerebral image represents imper-
fectly the candlestick, in the same way and to
the same extent the mental image represents
the reality external to his consciousness. Thus
in order to find the thing-in-itself which is re-
presented by any object in my consciousness,
72
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
such as a candlestick, I have to solve this
question in proportion, or rule of three :--
As the physical configuration of my cere-
bral image of the object
is to the physical configuration of the object,
so is my perception of the object (the object
regarded as complex of my feelings)
to the thing-in-itself.
Hence we are obliged to identify the thing-
in-itself with that complex of elementary mind-
stuff which on other grounds we have seen
reason to think of as going along with the
material object. Or, to say the same thing in
other words, the reality external to our minds
which is represented in our minds as matter is
in itself mind-stuff.
The universe, then, consists entirely of mind-
stuff. Some of this is woven into the complex
form of human minds containing imperfect re-
presentations of the mind-stuff outside them,
and of themselves also, as a mirror reflects its
own image in another mirror, ad infinitum.
Such an imperfect representation is called a
material universe. It is a picture in a man's
mind of the real universe of mind-stuff.
The two chief points of this doctrine may
be thus summed up :
Matter is a mental picture in which mind-
stuff is the thing represented.
Reason, intelligence, and volition are pro-
NATURE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELVES
73
perties of a complex which is made up of
elements themselves not rational, not intelligent,
not conscious. .
Note. The doctrine here expounded appears
to have been arrived at independently by many
persons; as was natural, seeing that it is (or
seems to me) a necessary consequence of recent
advances in the theory of perception. Kant
threw out a suggestion that the Ding-an-sich
might be of the nature of mind; but the first
statement of the doctrine in its true connection
that I know of is by Wundt. Since it dawned
on me, some time ago, I have supposed myself
to find it more or less plainly hinted in many
writings; but the question is one in which it is
peculiarly difficult to make out precisely what
another man means, and even what one means
one's self.
Some writers (e.g. Dr. Tyndall) have used
the word matter to mean the phenomenon plus
the reality represented; and there are many
reasons in favour of such usage in general.
But for the purposes of the present discussion
I have thought it clearer to use the word for the
itself.
1 [Kritik der reinen Vernunft, pp. 287-8, ed. Rosenkranz.
Wundt's statement is in the concluding paragraphs of Grundzüge
der physiologischen Psychologie. Compare too Häckel, “ Zellseelen
und Seelenzellen," in Deutsche Rundschau, July 1878, vol. xvi.
p. 40.]
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF
MORALS1
The crude essay which here follows is allowed to see the light
rather as a text for the remarks to which it has given rise than
for its own sake. It was written as a means of seeking for
more light, and in that respect has succeeded. Some re-
marks of Mr. Darwin's (Descent of Man, part i. ch. 3)
appeared to me to constitute a method of dealing with
ethical problems bearing a close analogy to the methods
which have been successful in all other practical questions,
but differing somewhat in principle from the theories which
are at present in vogue, while in its results it coincides
with the highest and healthiest practical instincts of this
and of all times. All that is attempted here is to show
roughly what account is given by this method of some of
the fundamental conceptions-right, and wrong, conscience,
responsibility-and to indicate the nature of the standard
which must guide their application. Exact definitions are
not to be looked for ; they come as the last product of a
completed theory, and are sure to be wrong at an early
stage of science. But though we may be unable to define
fully what right is, we do, I think, arrive at principles
which show us very clearly many things which it is not; and
these conclusions are not only of great practical importance,
but theoretically bear close analogy to the steps by which
complete definition has been attained in the exact sciences.
By Morals or Ethic I mean the doctrine of a
special kind of pleasure or displeasure which is
i Contemporary Review, September 1875.
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 75
felt by the human mind in contemplating
certain courses of conduct, whereby they are
felt to be right or wrong, and of a special de-
sire to do the right things and avoid the wrong
ones. The pleasure or displeasure is commonly
called the moral sense; the corresponding desire
might be called the moral appetite. These
are facts, existing in the consciousness of every
man who need be considered in this discussion,
and sufficiently marked out by these names;
they need no further definition. In the same
way the sense of taste is a feeling of pleasure
or displeasure in things savoury or unsavoury,
and is associated with a desire for the one and
a repulsion from the other. We must assume
that everybody knows what these words mean;
the feelings they describe may be analysed or
accounted for, but they cannot be more exactly
defined as feelings.
The maxims of ethic are recommendations
or commands of the form, “Do this particular
thing because it is right," or "Avoid this par-
ticular thing because it is wrong." They ex-
press the immediate desire to do the right thing
for itself, not for the sake of anything else : on
this account the mood of them is called the
categorical imperative. The particular things
commanded or forbidden by such maxims de-
pend upon the character of the individual in
whose mind they arise. There is a certain
76
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
general agreement in the ethical code of per-
sons belonging to the same race at a given
races and times. To the question “What is
right ? " can therefore only be answered in the
first instance, “That which pleases your moral
sense." But it may be further asked, "What
is generally thought right?" and the reply will
specify the ethic of a particular race and period.
standard of taste, may be modified by habit
and education ; and accordingly the question
may be asked, “How shall I order my moral
desires so as to be able to satisfy them most
completely and continuously? What ought I
to feel to be right?” The answer to this
question must be sought in the study of the
conditions under which the moral sense was
produced and is preserved ; in other words, in
the study of its functions as a property of the
human organism. The maxims derived from
this study may be called maxims of abstract
or absolute right; they are not absolutely uni-
versal, “ eternal and immutable," but they are
independent of the individual, and practically
universal for the present condition of the human
species.
I mean by Science the application of ex-
perience to new circumstances, by the aid of
an order of nature which has been observed in
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS
77
the past, and on the assumption that such
order will continue in the future. The simplest
use of experience as a guide to action is prob-
ably not even conscious; it is the association
by continually-repeated selection of certain
actions with certain circumstances, as in the
unconsciously acquired craft of the maker of
flint implements. I still call this science,
although it is only a beginning ; because the
physiological process is a type of what takes
place in all later stages. The next step may
be expressed in the form of a hypothetical
maxim,—“ If you want to make brass, melt
your copper along with this blue stone." To
a maxim of this sort it may always be replied,
"I do not want to make brass, and so I shall
not do as you tell me." This reply is antici-
pated in the final form of science, when it is
expressed as a statement or proposition : brass
is an alloy of copper and zinc, and calamine
is zinc carbonate. Belief in a general state-
ment is an artifice of our mental constitution,
whereby infinitely various sensations and groups
of sensations are brought into connection with
infinitely various actions and groups of actions.
On the phenomenal side there corresponds a
certain cerebral structure by which various
combinatious of disturbances in the sensor tract
are made to lead to the appropriate combina-
tions of disturbances in the motor tract. The
78
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
important point is that science, though ap-
parently transformed into pure knowledge, has
yet never lost its character of being a craft;
and that it is not the knowledge itself which
can rightly be called science, but a special way
of getting and of using knowledge. Namely,
science is the getting of knowledge from experi-
ence on the assumption of uniformity in nature,
and the use of such knowledge to guide the
actions of men. And the most abstract state-
ments or propositions in science are to be re-
garded as bundles of hypothetical maxims
packed into a portable shape and size. Every
scientific fact is a shorthand expression for a
vast number of practical directions : if you
want so-and-so, do so-and-so.
If with this meaning of the word “Science,"
there is such a thing as a scientific basis of
Morals, it must be true that,
1, The maxims of Ethic are hypothetical
maxims
2, Derived from experience
3, On the assumption of uniformity in nature.
These propositions I shall now endeavour to
prove; and in conclusion, I shall indicate the
direction in which we may look for those general
statements of fact whose organisation will
complete the likeness of ethical and physical
science.
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 79
THE TRIBAL SELFI
In the metaphysical sense, the word "self"
is taken to mean the conscious subject das Ich,
the whole stream of feelings which make up a
consciousness regarded as bound together by
association and memory. But, in the more
common and more restricted ethical sense, what
we call self is a selected aggregate of feelings
and of objects related to them which hangs
together as a conception by virtue of long and
repeated association. My self does not include
all my feelings, because I habitually separate
off some of them, say they do not properly
belong to me, and treat them as my enemies.
On the other hand, it does in general include
my body regarded as an object, because of the
feelings which occur simultaneously with events
which affect it. My foot is certainly part of
myself, because I get hurt when anybody treads
on it. When we desire anything for its some-
what remote consequences, it is not common
for these to be represented to the mind in the
form of the actual feelings of pleasure which
are ultimately to flow from the satisfaction of
the desire ; instead of this, they are replaced
1 This conception of an Extended Self I found many years ago
that I had in common with my friend Mr. Macmillan. Since then
I have heard and read in many places expressions of it more or
less distinct.
80
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
by a symbolic conception which represents the
thing desired as doing good to the complex
abstraction self. This abstraction serves thus
to support and hold together those complex
and remote motives which make up by far the
greater part of the life of the intelligent races.
When a thing is desired for no immediate
pleasure that it can bring, it is generally
desired on account of a certain symbolic sub-
stitute for pleasure, the feeling that this thing
is suitable to the self. And, as in many like
cases, this feeling, which at first derived its
pleasurable nature from the faintly represented
simple pleasures of which it was a symbol,
ceases after a time to recall them and becomes
a simple pleasure itself. In this way the self
becomes a sort of centre about which our re-
moter motives revolve, and to which they
over, they become immediate and simple, from
having been complex and remote.
If we consider now the simpler races of
mankind, we shall find not only that immediate
desires play a far larger part in their lives, and
so that the conception of self is less used and
less developed, but also that it is less definite
and more wide. The savage is not only hurt
anybody treads on his tribe. He may lose his
hut, and his wife, and his opportunities of
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 81
getting food. In this way the tribe becomes
naturally included in that conception of self
which renders remote desires possible by making
them immediate. The actual pains or pleasures
which come from the woe or weal of the tribe,
and which were the source of this conception,
drop out of consciousness and are remembered
no more, the symbol which has replaced them
becomes a centre and goal of immediate desires,
powerful enough in many cases to override the
strongest suggestions of individual pleasure or
pain.
Here a helping cause comes in. The tribe,
qua tribe, has to exist, and it can only exist by
aid of such an organic artifice as the conception
of the tribal self in the minds of its members.
Hence the natural selection of those races in
which this conception is the most powerful and
most habitually predominant as a motive over
immediate desires. To such an extent has this
proceeded that we may fairly doubt whether
the selfhood of the tribe is not earlier in point
of development than that of the individual. In
the process of time. it becomes a matter of
hereditary transmission, and is thus fixed as a
specific character in the constitution of social
man. With the settlement of countries, and
the aggregation of tribes into nations, it takes
a wider and more abstract form ; and in the
highest natures the tribal self is incarnate in
VOL. II
· 82
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
nothing less than humanity. Short of these
heights, it places itself in the family and in the
city. I shall call that quality or disposition of
man which consists in the supremacy of the
family or tribal self as a mark of reference for
motives by its old name Piety. And I have
now to consider certain feelings and conceptions
to which the existence of piety must necessarily
give rise.
Before going further, however, it will be
advisable to fix as precisely as may be the
sense of the words just used. Self, then, in
the ethical sense, is a conception in the mind
of the individual which serves as a peg on
which remote desires are hung and by which
they are rendered immediate. The individual
self is such a peg for the hanging of remote
desires which affect the individual only. The
tribal self is a conception in the mind of the
individual which serves as a peg on which
those remote desires are hung which were im-
planted in him by the need of the tribe as a
tribe. We must carefully distinguish the tribal
self from society, or the "common conscious-
ness”; it is something in the mind of each
individual man which binds together his
gregarious instincts.
The word tribe is here used to mean a group
of that size which in the circumstances con-
sidered is selected for survival or destruction as
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS
83
a group. Self-regarding excellences are brought
out by the natural selection of individuals; the
tribal self is developed by the natural selection
of groups. The size of the groups must vary
at different times, and the extent of the tribal
self must vary accordingly.
APPROBATION AND CONSCIENCE
The tribe has to exist. Such tribes as saw
no necessity for it have ceased to live. To
exist, it must encourage piety; and there is a
method which lies ready to hand.
We do not like a man whose character is
such that we may reasonably expect injuries
from him. This dislike of a man on account
of his character is a more complex feeling than
the mere dislike of separate injuries. A cat
likes your hand, and your lap, and the food you
give her ; but I do not think she has any con-
ception of you. A dog, however, may like you
even when you thrash him, though he does not
like the thrashing. Now such likes and dis-
likes may be felt by the tribal self. If a man
does anything generally regarded as good for
the tribe, my tribal self may say, in the first
place, “I like that thing that you have done.”
By such common approbation of individual acts
i Present company always excepted. I fully believe in the
personal and disinterested affection of my cat.
94
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
the influence of piety as a motive becomes
defined ; and natural selection will in the long
run preserve those tribes which have approved
the right things; namely, those things which
at that time gave the tribe an advantage in the
struggle for existence. But in the second
place, a man may as a rule and constantly
being actuated by piety, do good things for the
tribe ; and in that case the tribal self will say,
I like you. The feeling expressed by this
statement on the part of any individual, "In
the name of the tribe, I like you," is what I
call approbation. It is the feeling produced in
pious individuals by that sort of character
which seems to them beneficial to the com-
munity.
Now suppose that a man has done some-
thing obviously harmful to the community.
Either some immediate desire, or his individual
self, has for once proved stronger than the
tribal self. When the tribal self wakes up, the
man says, “In the name of the tribe, I do not
like this thing that I, as an individual, have
done." This Self-judgment in the name of the
tribe is called Conscience. If the man goes
further and draws from this act and others an
inference about his own character, he may say,
“In the name of the tribe, I do not like my
individual self.” This is remorse. Mr. Darwin
has well pointed out that immediate desires are
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 85
in general strong but of short duration, and
cannot be adequately represented to the mind
after they have passed ; while the social forces,
though less violent, have a steady and con-
tinuous action.
In a mind sufficiently developed to dis-
tinguish the individual from the tribal self,
conscience is thus a necessary result of the
existence of piety; it is ready to hand as
a means for its increase. But to account for
the existence of piety and conscience in the
elemental form which we have hitherto con-
sidered is by no means to account for the
present moral nature of man. We shall be led
many steps in that direction if we consider the
way in which society has used these feelings
of the individual as a means for its own
preservation,
RIGHT AND RESPONSIBILITY
A like or a dislike is one thing; the expression
of it is another. It is attached to the feeling
by links of association ; and when this associa-
tion has been selectively modified by experience,
whether consciously or unconsciously, the ex-
pression serves a purpose of retaining or repeating
the thing liked, and of removing the thing
disliked. Such a purpose is served by the ex-
pression of tribal approbation or disapprobation,
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
however little it may be the conscious end
of such expression to any individual. It is
necessary to the tribe that the pious character
should be encouraged and preserved, the.
impious character discouraged and removed.
The process is of two kinds; direct and reflex.
In the direct process the tribal dislike of the
offender is precisely similar to the dislike of a
noxious beast; and it expresses itself in his
speedy removal. But in the reflex process we
find the first trace of that singular and wonderful
judgment by analogy which ascribes to other
men a consciousness similar to our own. If the
process were a conscious one, it might perhaps
be described in this way: the tribal self says,
"Put yourself in this man's place ; he also is
pious, but he has offended, and that proves
that he is not pious enough. Still, he has some
conscience, and the expression of your tribal
dislike to his character, awakening his con-
science, will tend to change him and make him
more pious.” But the process is not a conscious
one : the social craft or art of living together is
learned by the tribe and not by the individual,
and the purpose of improving men's characters
is provided for by complex social arrangements
long before it has been conceived by any
conscious mind. The tribal self learns to
approve certain expressions of tribal liking or
disliking; the actions whose open approval
1
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS
87
is liked by the tribal self are called right actions,
and those whose open disapproval is liked are
called wrong actions. The corresponding char-
acters are called good or bad, virtuous or vicious.
This introduces a further complication into
the conscience. Self-judgment in the name of
the tribe becomes associated with very definite
and material judgment by the tribe itself. On
the one hand, this undoubtedly strengthens the
motive power of conscience in an enormous
degree. On the other hand, it tends to guide
the decisions of conscience; and since the
expression of public approval or disapproval is
made in general by means of some organised
machinery of government, it becomes possible
for conscience to be knowingly directed by the
wise or misdirected by the wicked, instead of
being driven along the right path by the slow
selective process of experience. Now right
actions are not those which are publicly
approved, but those whose public approbation
a well-instructed tribal self would like. Still,
it is impossible to avoid the guiding influence
of expressed approbation on the great mass
of the people ; and in those cases where the
machinery of government is approximately a
means of expressing the true public conscience,
that influence becomes a most powerful help to
improvement.
Let us note now the very important difference
.88
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
between the direct and the reflex process.
To clear a man away as a noxious beast, and
to punish him for doing wrong, these are two
very different things. The purpose in the first
case is merely to get rid of a nuisance; the
purpose in the second case is to improve the
character either of the man himself or of those
who will observe this public expression of
disapprobation. The offence of which the man
has been guilty leads to an inference about his
character, and it is supposed that the community
may contain other persons whose characters are
similar to his, or tend to become so. It has
been found that the expression of public dis-
approbation tends to awake the conscience of
such people and to improve their characters.
If the improvement of the man himself is aimed
at, it is assumed that he has a conscience which
can be worked upon and made to deter him
from similar offences in future.
The word purpose has here been used in a
sense to which it is perhaps worth while to call
attention. Adaptation of means to an end
niay be produced in two ways that we at
selection, and by the agency of an intelligence
in which an image or idea of the end preceded
the use of the means. In both cases the
the necessity or utility of the end. It seems
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 89
D
to me convenient to use the word purpose as
meaning generally the end to which certain
means are adapted, both in these two cases,
and in any other that may hereafter become
known, provided only that the adaptation is
accounted for by the necessity or utility of
the end. And there seems no objection to the
use of the phrase "final cause" in this wider
sense, if it is to be kept at all. The word
“design” might then be kept for the special
case of adaptation by an intelligence. And we
may then say that since the process of natural
selection has been understood, purpose has
ceased to suggest design to instructed people,
except in cases where the agency of man is
independently probable.
When a man can be punished for doing
wrong with approval of the tribal self, he is
said to be responsible. Responsibility implies
two things :-(I) The act was a product of the
man's character and of the circumstances, and
his character may to a certain extent be inferred
from the act; (2) The man had a conscience
which might have been so worked upon as to
prevent his doing the act. Unless the first
condition be fulfilled, we cannot reasonably
take any action at all in regard to the man, but
only in regard to the offence. In the case of
crimes of violence, for example, we might carry
a six - shooter to protect ourselves against
90
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
UT
similar possibilities, but unless the fact of a
man's having once committed a murder made
it probable that he would do the like again, it
would clearly be absurd and unreasonable to
lynch the man. That is to say, we assume an
uniformity of connection between character and
actions, infer a ran's character from his past
actions, and endeavour to provide against his
future actions either by destroying him or by
changing his character. I think it will be
found that in all those cases where we not only
deal with the offence but treat it with moral
reprobation, we imply the existence of a con-
science which might have been worked upon
to improve the character. Why, for example,
do we not regard a lunatic as responsible ?
Because we are in possession of information
about his character derived not only from his
one offence but from other facts, whereby we
know that even if he had a conscience left, his
mind is so diseased that it is impossible by
moral reprobation alone to change his char-
acter so that it may be subsequently relied
upon. With his cure from disease and the
restored validity of this condition, responsibility
returns. There are, of course, cases in which
an irresponsible person is punished as if he
were responsible, pour encourager les autres who
are responsible. The question of the right or
wrong of this procedure is the question of its
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 91
average effect on the character of men at any
particular time.
THE CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE
May we now say that the maxims of Ethic
are hypothetical maxims ? I think we may,
and that in showing why we shall explain the
apparent difference between them and other
maxims belonging to an early stage of science.
In the first place, ethical maxims are learned
by the tribe and not by the individual. Those
tribes have on the whole survived in which
conscience approved such actions as tended to
the improvement of men's characters as citizens
and therefore to the survival of the tribe.
Hence it is that the moral sense of the
individual, though founded on the experience
of the tribe, is purely intuitive; conscience
gives no reasons. Notwithstanding this, the
ethical maxims are presented to us as con-
ditional ; if you want to live together in this
complicated way, your ways must be straight
and not crooked, you must seek the truth and
love no lie. Suppose we answer, “I don't
want to live together with other men in this
complicated way; and so I shall not do as you
tell me.” That is not the end of the matter, as
it might be with other scientific precepts. For
obvious reasons it is right in this case to reply,
92
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
“Then in the name of my people I do not like
you," and to express this dislike by appropriate
methods. And the offender, being descended
from a social race, is unable to escape his
conscience, the voice of his tribal self which
says, “In the name of the tribe, I hate myself
for this treason that I have done."
There are two reasons, then, why ethical
maxims appear to be unconditional. First,
they are acquired from experience not directly
but by tribal selection, and therefore in the
mind of the individual they do not rest upon
the true reasons for them. Secondly, although
they are conditional, the absence of the con-
dition in one born of a social race is rightly
visited by moral reprobation.
ETHICS ARE BASED ON UNIFORMITY
I have already observed that to deal with
men as a means of influencing their actions
implies that these actions are a product of
character and circumstances; and that moral
reprobation and responsibility cannot exist
unless we assume the efficacy of certain special
means of influencing character. It is not
necessary to point out that such considerations
involve that uniformity of nature which under-
lies the possibility of even unconscious adapta-
tions to experience, of language, and of general
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 93
conceptions and statements. It may be asked
“ Are you quite sure that these observed
uniformities between motive and action, between
character and motive, between social influence
and change of character, are absolutely exact
in the form in which you state them, or indeed
that they are 'exact laws of any form ? May
there not be very slight divergences from exact
laws, which will allow of the action of an
'uncaused will,' or of the interference of some
'extramundane force'?” I am sure I do not
know. But this I do know: that our sense of
right and wrong is derived from such order as
we can observe, and not from such caprice of
disorder as we may fancifully conjecture; and
that to whatever extent a divergence from
exactness became sensible, to that extent it
would destroy the most widespread and worthy
of the acquisitions of mankind.
THE FINAL STANDARD
By these views we are led to conclusions partly
negative, partly positive ; of which, as might be
expected, the negative are the most definite.
First, then, Ethic is a matter of the tribe or
community, and therefore there are no “self-
regarding virtues." The qualities of courage,
in so far as they are shown to conduce to the
94
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
*S
efficiency of a citizen ; that is, in so far as they
cease to be self-regarding. The duty of private
judgment, of searching after truth, the sacred-
ness of belief which ought not to be misused on
unproved statements, follow only on showing
of the enormous importance to society of a true
knowledge of things. And any diversion of
conscience from its sole allegiance to the
community is condemned à priori in the very
nature of right and wrong.
Next, the end of Ethic is not the greatest
happiness of the greatest number. Your happi-
ness is of no use to the community, except in
so far as it tends to make you a more efficient
citizen-that is to say, happiness is not to be
desired for its own sake, but for the sake of
something else. If any end is pointed to, it is
the end of increased efficiency in each man's
special work, as well as in the social functions
which are common to all. A man must strive
to be a better citizen, a better workman, a
better son, husband, or father. Farvi migliori ;
questo ha da essere lo scopo della vostra vita.
Again, Piety is not Altruism. It is not the
doing good to others as others, but the service
of the community by a member of it, who loses
in that service the consciousness that he is
anything different from the community.
The social organism, like the individual,
i Mazzini, Doveri dell'Uomo.
ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS 95
may be healthy or diseased. Health and
disease are very difficult things to define
accurately : but for practical purposes, there are
certain states about which no mistake can be
made. When we have even a very imperfect
catalogue and description of states that are
clearly and certainly diseases, we may form a
rough preliminary definition of health by saying
that it means the absence of all these states.
Now the health of society involves among other
things, that right is done by the individuals
composing it. And certain social diseases
consist in a wrong direction of the conscience.
Hence the determination of abstract right
depends on the study of healthy and diseased
states of society. How much light can be got
for this end from the historical records we
possess ? A very great deal, if as I believe,
for ethical purposes the nature of man and of
society may be taken as approximately constant
during the few thousand years of which we
have distinct records.
The matters of fact on which rational ethic
must be founded are the laws of modification
of character, and the evidence of history as to
those kinds of character which have most aided
the improvement of the race. For although
the moral sense is intuitive, it must for the
future be directed by our conscious discovery of
the tribal purpose which it serves.
RIGHT AND WRONG:
THE SCIENTIFIC GROUND OF THEIR DIS-
TINCTION
THE questions which are here to be considered
are especially and peculiarly everybody's ques-
tions. It is not everybody's business to be an
engineer, or a doctor, or a carpenter, or a
soldier; but it is everybody's business to be a
citizen. The doctrines and precepts which
guide the practice of the good engineer are of
interest to him who uses them and to those
whose business it is to investigate them by
mechanical science; the rest of us neither obey
nor disobey them. But the doctrines and
precepts of morality, which guide the practice
of the good citizen, are of interest to all; they
must be either obeyed or disobeyed by every
human being who is not hopelessly and for ever
separated from the rest of mankind. No one
can say, therefore, that in this inquiry we are
1 Sunday Lecture Society, November 7, 1875; Fortnightly
Review, December 1875.
RIGHT AND WRONG
97
not minding our own business, that we are
meddling with other men's affairs. We are in
fact studying the principles of our profession,
so far as we are able ; a necessary thing for
every man who wishes to do good work in it.
Along with the character of universal
interest which belongs to our subject there goes
another. What is everybody's practical business
is also to a large extent what everybody knows;
and it may be reasonably expected that a
discourse about Right and Wrong will be full
of platitudes and truisms. The expectation is
a just one. The considerations I have to offer
are of the very oldest and the very simplest
commonplace and common sense ; and no one
can be more astonished than I am that there
should be any reason to speak of them at all.
But there is reason to speak of them, because
platitudes are not all of one kind. Some
platitudes have a definite meaning and a
practical application, and are established by the
uniform and long-continued experience of all
people. Other platitudes, having no definite
meaning and no practical application, seem not
to be worth anybody's while to test; and these
are quite sufficiently established by mere
assertion, if it is audacious enough to begin
with and persistent enough afterwards. It is
in order to distinguish these two kinds of
platitude from one another, and to make sure
VOL. II
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
that those which we retain form a body of
doctrine consistent with itself and with the rest
of our beliefs, that we undertake this examina-
tion of obvious and widespread principles.
First of all, then, what are the facts ?
We say that it is wrong to murder, to steal,
to tell lies, and that it is right to take care of
our families. When we say in this sense that
one action is right and another wrong, we have
a certain feeling towards the action which is
peculiar and not quite like any other feeling.
It is clearly a feeling towards the action and
not towards the man who does it; because we
speak of hating the sin and loving the sinner.
We might reasonably dislike a man whom we
knew or suspected to be a murderer, because of
the natural fear that he might murder us; and
we might like our own parents for taking care
of us. But everybody knows that these feelings
are something quite different from the feeling
which condemns murder as a wrong thing, and
approves parental care as a right thing. I say
nothing here about the possibility of analysing
this feeling, or proving that it arises by com-
bination of other feelings; all I want to notice
is that it is as distinct and recognisable as the
feeling of pleasure in a sweet taste or of dis-
pleasure at a toothache. In speaking of right
and wrong, we speak of qualities of action
which arouse definite feelings that everybody
RIGHT AND WRONG
99
knows and recognises. It is not necessary,
then, to give a definition at the outset ; we are
going to use familiar terms which have a
definite meaning in the same sense in which
everybody uses them. We may ultimately
come to something like a definition ; but what
we have to do first is to collect the facts and
see what can be made of them, just as if we
were going to talk about limestone, or parents
and children, or fuel.
It is easy to conceive that murder and theft
and neglect of the young might be considered
wrong in a very simple state of society. But
we find at present that the condemnation of
these actions does not stand alone; it goes
with the condemnation of a great number of
other actions which seem to be included with
the obviously criminal action in a sort of
general rule. The wrongness of murder, for
example, belongs in a less degree to any form
of bodily injury that one man may inflict on
another; and it is even extended so as to
include injuries to his reputation or his feelings.
I make these more refined precepts follow in
the train of the more obvious and rough ones,
because this appears to have been the traditional
order of their establishment. "He that makes
his neighbour blush in public," says the Mishna,
SU
1 These subjects were treated in the Lectures which immediately
preceded and followed the present one.
100
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
“is as if he had shed his blood.” In the same
way the rough condemnation of stealing carries
with it a condemnation of more refined forms
of dishonesty: we do not hesitate to say that
it is wrong for a tradesman to adulterate his
goods, or for a labourer to scamp his work.
We not only say that it is wrong to tell lies,
but that it is wrong to deceive in other more
ingenious ways; wrong to use words so that
they shall have one sense to some people and
another sense to other people ; wrong to sup-
press the truth when that suppression leads to
false belief in others. And again, the duty of
parents towards their children is seen to be a
special case of a very large and varied class of
duties towards that great family to which we
belong to the fatherland and them that dwell
therein. The word duty which I have here
used, has as definite a sense to the general
mind as the words right and wrong; we say
that it is right to do our duty, and wrong to
neglect it. These duties to the community
serve in our minds to explain and define our
duties to individuals. It is wrong to kill any
one; unless we are an executioner, when it
may be our duty to kill a criminal; or a
soldier, when it may be our duty to kill the
enemy of our country, and in general it is
wrong to injure any man in any way in our
private capacity and for our own sakes. Thus
RIGHT AND WRONG
IOI
if a man injures us, it is only right to retaliate
on behalf of other men. Of two men in a
desert island, if one takes away the other's
cloak, it may or may not be right for the other
to let him have his coat also; but if a man
takes away my cloak while we both live in
society, it is my duty to use such means as I
can to prevent him from taking away other
people's cloaks. Observe that I am endeavour-
ing to describe the facts of the moral feelings
of Englishmen, such as they are now.
The last remark leads us to another plati-
tude of exceedingly ancient date. We said
that it was wrong to injure any man in our
private capacity and for our own sakes. A
rule like this differs from all the others that we
have considered, because it not only deals with
physical acts, words and deeds which can be
observed and known by others, but also with
thoughts which are known only to the man
himself. Who can tell whether a given act of
punishment was done from a private or from a
public motive? Only the agent himself. And
yet if the punishment was just and within the
law, we should condemn the man in the one
case and approve him in the other. This
pursuit of the actions of men to their very
sources, in the feelings which they only can
know, is as ancient as any morality we know
of, and extends to the whole range of it. Injury
TO2
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
to another man arises from anger, malice, hatred,
revenge; these feelings are condemned as wrong.
But feelings are not immediately under our
control, in the same way that overt actions are:
I can shake anybody by the hand if I like, but
I cannot always feel friendly to him. Never-
theless we can pay attention to such aspects of
the circumstances, and we can put ourselves
into such conditions, that our feelings get
gradually modified in one way or the other ;
we form a habit of checking our anger by
whereby in time the offending passion is brought
into subjection and control. Accordingly we
say that it is right to acquire and to exercise
this control; and the control is supposed to
exist whenever we say that one feeling or dis-
position of mind is right and another wrong.
Thus, in connection with the precept against
stealing, we condemn envy and covetousness;
we applaud a sensitive honesty which shudders
at anything underhand or dishonourable. In
connection with the rough precept against lying,
we have built up and are still building a great
fabric of intellectual morality, whereby a man
is forbidden to tell lies to himself, and is com-
manded to practise candour and fairness and
open - mindedness in his judgments, and to
labour zealously in pursuit of the truth. And
in connection with the duty to our families, we
RIGHT AND WRONG
103
say that it is right to cultivate public spirit, a
quick sense of sympathy, and all that belongs
to a social disposition.
Two other words are used in this connection
which it seems necessary to mention. When
we regard an action as right or wrong for our-
selves, this feeling about the action impels us
to do it or not to do it, as the case may be.
We may say that the moral sense acts in this
case as a motive; meaning by moral sense
only the feeling in regard to an action which
is considered as right or wrong, and by motive
something which impels us to act. Of course
there may be other motives at work at the
same time, and it does not at all follow that
we shall do the right action or abstain from
the wrong one. This we all know to our cost.
But still our feeling about the rightness or
wrongness of an action does operate as a motive
when we think of the action as being done by
us; and when so operating it is called conscience,
I have nothing to do at present with the
questions about conscience, whether it is a
result of education, whether it can be explained
by self-love, and so forth; I am only concerned
in describing well-known facts, and in getting
as clear as I can about the meaning of well-
known words. Conscience, then, is the whole
aggregate of our feelings about actions as being
right or wrong, regarded as tending to make us
104
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
do the right actions and avoid the wrong ones.
We also say sometimes, in answer to the
or wrong?” “My conscience tells me so.”
And this way of speaking is quite analogous to
other expressions of the same form ; thus if I
put my hand into water, and you ask me how
I know that it is hot, I might say, “My feeling
of warmth tells me so."
When we consider a right or a wrong action
as done by another person, we think of that
person as worthy of moral approbation or re-
probation. He may be punished or not; but
in any case this feeling towards him is quite
different from the feeling of dislike towards
a person injurious to us, or of disappointment
at a machine which will not go.
Whenever we can morally approve or dis-
approve a man for his action, we say that he
is morally responsible for it, and vice versa.
To say that a man is not morally responsible
for his actions is the same thing as to say that
it would be unreasonable to praise or blame
him for them.
The statement that we ourselves are morally
responsible is somewhat more complicated, but
the meaning is very easily made out; namely,
that another person may reasonably regard our
actions as right or wrong, and may praise or
blame us for them.
RIGHT AND WRONG
105
IS
We can now, I suppose, understand one
another pretty clearly in using the words right
and wrong, conscience, responsibility; and we
have made a rapid survey of the facts of the
case in our own country at the present time. Of
course I do not pretend that this survey in any
way approaches to completeness; but it will
supply us at least with enough facts to enable
us to deal always with concrete examples
instead of remaining in generalities; and it
may serve to show pretty fairly what the moral
sense of an Englishman is like. We must
next consider what account we can give of these
facts by the scientific method.
But first let us stop to note that we really
have used the scientific method in making this
first step; and also that to the same extent the
method has been used by all serious moralists.
Some would have us define virtue, to begin
with, in terms of some other thing which is not
virtue, and then work out from our definition
all the details of what we ought to do. So
Plato said that virtue was knowledge, Aristotle
that it was the golden mean, and Bentham said
that the right action was that which conduced
to the greatest happiness of the greatest number.
But so also, in physical speculations, Thales said
that everything was Water, and Heraclitus said
it was All-becoming, and Empedocles said it
was made out of Four Elements, and Pythagoras
106
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
said it was Number. But we only began
to know about things when people looked
straight at the facts, and made what they
could out of them; and that is the only way
in which we can know anything about right
and wrong. Moreover, it is the way in
which the great moralists have set to work,
when they came to treat of verifiable things
and not of theories all in the air. A great
many people think of a prophet as a man
who, all by himself, or from some secret
source, gets the belief that this thing is right
and that thing wrong. And then they
imagine) he gets up and goes about persuad-
ing other people to feel as he does about it;
and so it becomes a part of their conscience,
and a new duty is created. This may be in
some cases, but I have never met with any
example of it in history. When Socrates
puzzled the Greeks by asking them what they
precisely meant by Goodness and Justice and
Virtue, the mere existence of the words shows
that the people, as a whole, possessed a moral
sense, and felt that certain things were right
and others wrong. What the moralist did was
to show the connection between different virtues,
the likeness of virtue to certain other things,
the implications which a thoughtful man could
find in the common language. Wherever the
Greek moral sense had come from, it was there
RIGHT AND WRONG
107
in the people before it could be enforced by a
prophet or discussed by a philosopher. Again,
we find a wonderful collection of moral aphorisms
in those shrewd sayings of the Jewish fathers
which are preserved in the Mishna or oral law.
Some of this teaching is familiar to us all from
the popular exposition of it which is contained
in the three first Gospels. But the very plain-
ness and homeliness of the precepts shows that
they are just acute statements of what was
already felt by the popular common sense ;
protesting, in many cases, against the formalism
of the ceremonial law with which they are
curiously mixed up. The Rabbis even show a
jealousy of prophetic interference, as if they knew
well that it takes not one man, but many men,
to feel what is right. When a certain Rabbi
Eliezer, being worsted in argument, cried out, “If
I am right, let heaven pronounce in my favour!”
there was heard a Bath-kol or voice from the
skies, saying, "Do you venture to dispute with
Rabbi Eliezer, who is an authority on all religious
questions? " But Rabbi Joshua rose and said,
"Our law is not in heaven, but in the book which
dates from Sinai, and which teaches us that in
matters of discussion the majority makes the
law.” 1
1 Treatise Baba Bathra, 59 6. I derive this story and reference
from a most interesting book," Kól Kôre (Vox Clamantis), La
Bible, le Talmud, et į Evangile ; par le R. Elie Soloweyczyk.
Paris : E. Brière. 1870."
108
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
One of the most important expressions of
the moral sense for all time is that of the Stoic
philosophy, especially after its reception among
the Romans. It is here that we find the
enthusiasm of humanity~the caritas generis
humani—which is so large and important a
feature in all modern conceptions of morality,
and whose widespread influence upon Roman
citizens may be traced in the Epistles of St.
Paul. In the Stoic emperors, also, we find
probably the earliest example of great moral
principles consciously applied to legislation on
a large scale. But are we to attribute this to
the individual insight of the Stoic philosophers ?
It might seem at first sight that we must, if we
are to listen to that vulgar vituperation of the
older culture which has descended to us from
those who had everything to gain by its de-
struction. We hear enough of the luxurious
i Compare these passages from Merivale (Romans under the
Empire, vi.), to whom " it seems a duty to protest against the
common tendency of Christian moralists to dwell only on the dark
side of Pagan society, in order to heighten by contrast the blessings
of the Gospel":-
“Much candour and discrimination are required in comparing
the sins of one age with those of another ..the cruelty of our
inquisitions and sectarian persecutions, of our laws against sorcery,
our serfdom and our slavery ; the petty fraudulence we tolerate in
almost every class and calling of the community ; the bold front
worn by our open sensuality ; the deeper degradation of that which
is concealed ; all these leave us little room for boasting of our
modern discipline, and must deter the thoughtful inquirer from too
confidently contrasting the morals of the old world and the new.".
“Even at Rome, in the worst of times . . . all the relations of
life were adorned in turn with bright instances of devotion, and
RIGHT AND WRONG
109
feasting of the Roman capital, how it would
almost have taxed the resources of a modern
pastrycook; of the cruelty of gladiatorial shows,
how they were nearly as bad as autos-da-fè,
except that a man had his fair chance, and was
not tortured for torture's sake; of the oppres-
sion of provincials by people like Verres, of
whom it may even be said that if they had
been the East India Company they could not
have been worse ; of the complaints of Tacitus
against bad and mad emperors (as Sir Henry
Maine says); and of the still more serious
complaints of the modern historian against the
excessive taxation which was one great cause
of the fall of the empire. Of all this we are
told a great deal; but we are not told of the
many thousands of honourable men who carried
civilisation to the ends of the known world,
and administered a mighty empire so that it
mankind transacted their business with an ordinary confidence in
the force of conscience and right reason. The steady development
of enlightened legal principles conclusively proves the general de-
pendence upon law as a guide and corrector of manners. In the
camp, however, more especially, as the chief sphere of this purify-
ing activity, the great qualities of the Roman character continued
to be plainly manifested. This history of the Cæsars presents to
us a constant succession of brave, patient, resolute, and faithful
soldiers, men deeply impressed with a sense of duty, superior to
vanity, despisers of boasting, content to toil in obscurity and shed
their blood at the frontiers of the empire, unrepining at the cold
mistrust of their masters, not clamorous for the honours so
sparingly awarded to them, but satisfied in the daily work of their
hands, and full of faith in the national destiny which they were
daily accomplishing."
i Finlay, Greece under the Romans.
110
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
was loved and worshipped to the farthest
corner of it. It is to these men and their
common action that we must attribute the
morality which found its organised expression
in the writings of the Stoic philosophers. From
these three cases we may gather that Right is
a thing which must be done before it can be
talked about, although after that it may only
too easily be talked about without being done.
Individual effort and energy may insist upon
getting that done which was already felt to be
right; and individual insight and acumen may
point out consequences of an action which
bring it under previously known moral rules.
There is another dispute of the Rabbis that
may serve to show what is meant by this. It
was forbidden by the law to have any dealings
with the Sabæan idolaters during the week
preceding their idolatrous feasts. But the
doctors discussed the case in which one of
these idolaters owes you a bill; are you to let
him pay it during that week or not? The
school of Shammai said “No; for he will want
all his money to enjoy himself at the feast."
But the school of Hillel said, “ Yes, let him pay
it; for how can he enjoy his feast while his
bills are unpaid ?” The question here is about
the consequences of an action ; but there is no
dispute about the moral principle, which is that
consideration and kindness are to be shown to
RIGHT AND WRONG
III
idolaters, even in the matter of their idolatrous
rites.
It seems, then, that we are no worse off than
anybody else who has studied this subject, in
finding our materials ready made for us ; suffi-
ciently definite meanings given in the common
speech to the words right and wrong, good and
bad, with which we have to deal ; a fair body
of facts familiarly known, which we have to
organise and account for as best we can. But
our special inquiry is, what account can be
given of these facts by the scientific method ?
to which end we cannot do better than fix our
ideas as well as we can upon the character and
scope of that method.
Now the scientific method is a method of
getting knowledge by inference, and that of two
different kinds. One kind of inference is that
which is used in the physical and natural
sciences, and it enables us to go from known
phenomena to unknown phenomena. Because
a stone is heavy in the morning, I infer that
it will be heavy in the afternoon; and I infer
this by assuming a certain uniformity of nature.
The sort of uniformity that I assume depends
upon the extent of my scientific education ; the
rules of inference become more and more
definite as we go on. At first I might assume
that all things are always alike ; this would not
be true, but it has to be assumed in a vague
II2
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
7
way, in order that a thing may have the same
name at different times. Afterwards I get the
more definite belief that certain particular
qualities, like weight, have nothing to do with
the time of day; and subsequently I find that
weight has nothing to do with the shape of the
stone, but only with the quantity of it. The
uniformity which we assume, then, is not that
vague one that we started with, but a chastened
and corrected uniformity. I might go on to
suppose, for example, that the weight of the
stone had nothing to do with the place where
it was; and a great deal might be said for this
supposition. It would, however, have to be
corrected when it was found that the weight
varies slightly in different latitudes. On the
other hand, I should find that this variation
was just the same for my stone as for a piece
of iron or wood ; that it had nothing to do
with the kind of matter. And so I might be
led to the conclusion that all matter is heavy,
and that the weight of it depends only on its
quantity and its position relative to the earth.
You see here that I go on arriving at con-
clusions always of this form; that some one
circumstance or quality has nothing to do with
some other circumstance or quality. I begin
by assuming that it is independent of every-
thing; I end by finding that it is independent
of some definite things. That is, I begin by
RIGHT AND WRONG
113
assuming a vague uniformity. I always use
this assumption to infer from some one fact
a great number of other facts ; but as my
education proceeds, I get to know what sort of
things may be inferred and what may not. An
observer of scientific mind takes note of just
those things from which inferences may be
drawn, and passes by the rest. If an
astronomer, observing the sun, were to record
the fact that at the moment when a sun-spot
began to shrink there was a rap at his front
door, we should know that he was not up to his
work. But if he records that sun-spots are
thickest every eleven years, and that this is
also the period of extra cloudiness in Jupiter,
the observation may or may not be confirmed,
and it may or may not lead to inferences of
importance; but still it is the kind of thing
from which inferences may be drawn. There
is always a certain instinct among instructed
people which tells them in this way what kinds
of inferences may be drawn; and this is the
unconscious effect of the definite uniformity
which they have been led to assume in nature.
It may subsequently be organised into a law or
general truth, and no doubt becomes a surer
guide by that process. Then it goes to form
the more precise instinct of the next generation.
What we have said about this first kind of
inference, which goes from phenomena to
VOL. II
I 14
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
phenomena, is shortly this. It proceeds upon
an assumption of uniformity in nature; and
this assumption is not fixed and made once for
all, but is a changing and growing thing,
becoming more definite as we go on.
If I were told to pick out some one
character which especially colours this guiding
conception of uniformity in our present stage of
science, I should certainly reply, Atomism. The
form of this with which we are most familiar is
the molecular theory of bodies ; which represents
all bodies as made up of small elements of
uniform character, each practically having
relations only with the adjacent ones, and
these relations the same all through-namely,
some simple mechanical action upon each
other's motions. But this is only a particular
case. A palace, a cottage, the tunnel of the
underground railway, and a factory chimney,
are all built of bricks; the bricks are alike in
all these cases, each brick is practically related
only to the adjacent ones, and the relation is
throughout the same, namely, two flat sides are
stuck together with mortar. There is an
atomism in the sciences of number, of quantity,
of space; the theorems of geometry are
groupings of individual points, each related
only to the adjacent ones by certain definite
laws. But what concerns us chiefly at present
is the atomism of human physiology. Just as
RIGHT AND WRONG
115
every solid is built up of molecules, so the
nervous system is built up of nerve-threads and
nerve-corpuscles. We owe to Mr. Lewes our
very best thanks for the stress which he has
laid on the doctrine that nerve-fibre is uniform
in structure and function, and for the word
neurility, which expresses its common properties.
And similar gratitude is due to Dr. Hughlings
Jackson for his long defence of the proposi-
tion that the element of nervous structure
and function is a sensori-motor process. In
structure, this is two fibres or bundles of fibres
going to the same gray corpuscle; in function
it is a message travelling up one fibre or bundle
to the corpuscle, and then down the other fibre
or bundle. Out of this, as a brick, the house
of our life is built. All these simple elementary
processes are alike, and each is practically
related only to the adjacent ones; the relation
being in all cases of the same kind, viz. the
passage from a simple to a complex message,
or vice versa.
The result of atomism in any form, dealing
with any subject, is that the principle of
uniformity is hunted down into the elements of
things; it is resolved into the uniformity of
these elements or atoms, and of the relations
of those which are next to each other. By an
1 Mr. Herbert Spencer had assigned a slightly different element.
-Principles of Psychology, vol. i. p. 28.
116
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
nft
element or an atom we do not here mean some-
thing absolutely simple or indivisible, for a
molecule, a brick, and a nerve-process are all
very complex things. We only mean that, for
the purpose in hand, the properties of the still
more complex thing which is made of them
have nothing to do with the complexities or
the differences of these elements. The solid
made of molecules, the house made of bricks,
the nervous system made of sensori - motor
processes, are nothing more than collections of
these practically uniform elements, having
certain relations of nextness, and behaviour
uniformly depending on that nextness.
The inference of phenomena from pheno-
mena, then, is based upon an assumption of
uniformity, which in the present stage of
science may be called an atomic uniformity.
The other mode of inference which belongs
to the scientific method is that which is used in
what are called the mental and moral sciences ;
and it enables us to go from phenomena to the
facts which underlie phenomena, and which are
themselves not phenomena at all. If I pinch
your arm, and you draw it away and make a
face, I infer that you have felt pain. I infer
this by assuming that you have a consciousness
similar to my own, and related to your per-
related to my perception of my body. Now
RIGHT AND WRONG
117
is this the same assumption as before, a mere
assumption of the uniformity of nature? It
certainly seems like it at first; but if we think
about it we shall find that there is a very
profound difference between them. In physical
inference I go from phenomena to phenomena ;
that is, from the knowledge of certain appear-
ances or representations actually present to my
mind I infer certain other appearances that
might be present to my mind. From the
weight of a stone in the morning—that is, from
my feeling of its weight, or my perception of
the process of weighing it, I infer that the stone
will be heavy in the afternoon—that is, I infer
the possibility of similar feelings and perceptions
in me at another time. The whole process
relates to me and my perceptions, to things
contained in my mind. But when I infer that
you are conscious from what you say or do, I
pass from that which is my feeling or perception,
which is in my mind and part of me, to that
which is not my feeling at all, which is outside
me altogether, namely, your feelings and per-
ceptions. Now there is no possible physical
inference, no inference of phenomena from
phenomena, that will help me over that gulf.
I am obliged to admit that this second kind of
inference depends upon another assumption,
not included in the assumption of the uniformity
of phenomena.
118 LECTURES AND ESSAYS
How does a dream differ from waking life?
In a fairly coherent dream everything seems
quite real, and it is rare, I think, with most
people to know in a dream that they are dream-
ing. Now, if a dream is sufficiently vivid and
coherent, all physical inferences are just as
valid in it as they are in waking life. In a
hazy or imperfect dream, it is true, things melt
into one another unexpectedly and unaccount-
ably; we fly, remove mountains, and stop
runaway horses with a finger. But there is
nothing in the mere nature of a dream to
hinder it from being an exact copy of waking
experience. If I find a stone heavy in one
some subsequent part, the inference will be
verified if the dream is coherent enough; I
shall go to the stone, lift it up, and find it as
heavy as before. And the same thing is true
of all inferences of phenomena from phenomena.
as real life; the only difference is in vividness
and coherence.
What, then, hinders us from saying that life
is all a dream? If the phenomena we dream
of are just as good and real phenomena as those
we see and feel when we are awake, what right
have we to say that the material universe has
any more existence apart from our minds than
the things we see and feel in our dreams? The
RIGHT AND WRONG
119
answer which Berkeley gave to that question
was, No right at all. The physical universe
which I see, and feel, and infer, is just my
dream and nothing else ; that which you see
is your dream; only it so happens that all our
dreams agree in many respects. This doctrine
of Berkeley's has now been so far confirmed by
the physiology of the senses that it is no longer
a metaphysical speculation, but a scientifically
established fact.
But there is a difference between dreams
and waking life which is of far too great
importance for any of us to be in danger of
neglecting it. When I see a man in my dream
there is just as good a body as if I were awake;
muscles, nerves, circulation, capability of adapting
means to ends. If only the dream is coherent
enough, no physical test can establish that it is
a dream. In both cases I see and feel the
same thing. In both cases I assume the
existence of more than I can see and feel,
namely, the consciousness of this other man.
But now here is a great difference, and the only
difference - in a dream this assumption is
wrong ; in waking life it is right. The man I
see in my dream is a mere machine, a bundle
of phenomena with no underlying reality;
there is no consciousness involved except my
consciousness, no feeling in the case except my
feelings. The man I see in waking life is more
1
120
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
than a bundle of phenomena; his body and its
actions are phenomena, but these phenomena
are merely the symbols and representatives in
my mind of a reality which is outside my mind,
namely, the consciousness of the man himself
which is represented by the working of his
brain, and the simpler quasi-mental facts, not
woven into his consciousness, which are repre-
sented by the working of the rest of his body.
What makes life not to be a dream is the
existence of those facts which we arrive at by
our second process of inference ; the conscious-
ness of men and the higher animals, the sub-
consciousness of lower organisms and the quasi-
mental facts which go along with the motions
of inanimate matter. In a book which is very
largely and deservedly known by heart, Through
the Looking - glass, there is a very instructive
discussion upon this point. Alice has been
taken to see the Red King as he lies snoring ;
and Tweedledee asks, “Do you know what he is
replies Alice. "Why, about you," he says
triumphantly. "And if he stopped dreaming
about you, where do you suppose you'd be?”
"Where I am now, of course," said Alice.
“Not you," said Tweedledee, "you'd be nowhere.
You are only a sort of thing in his dream."
“If that there King was to wake," added
Tweedledum, "you'd go out, bang! just like a
RIGHT AND WRONG
121
candle." Alice was quite right in regarding
these remarks as unphilosophical. The fact
that she could see, think, and feel, was proof
positive that she was not a sort of thing in
anybody's dream. This is the meaning of that
saying, Cogito ergo sum, of Descartes. By him,
and by Spinoza after him, the verb cogito and
the substantive cogitatio were used to denote
consciousness in general, any kind of feeling,
even what we now call sub-consciousness. The
saying means that feeling exists in and for
itself, not as a quality or modification or state
or manifestation of anything else.
We are obliged in every hour of our lives
to act upon beliefs which have been arrived at
by inferences of these two kinds ; inferences
based on the assumption of uniformity in
nature, and inferences which add to this the
assumption of feelings which are not our own.
By organising the “common sense” which
embodies the first class of inferences, we build
up the physical sciences; that is to say, all
those sciences which deal with the physical,
material, or phenomenal universe, whether
animate or inanimate. And so by organising
the common sense which embodies the second
class of inferences, we build up various sciences
of mind. The description and classification of
feelings, the facts of their association with each
other, and of their simultaneity with phenomena
122
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
of nerve-action, all this belongs to psychology,
which may be historical and comparative. The
doctrine of certain special classes of feelings is
organised into the special sciences of those
feelings; thus the facts about the feelings which
we are now considering, about the feelings of
moral approbation and reprobation, are organised
into the science of ethics, and the facts about the
feeling of beauty or ugliness are organised into
the science of æsthetics, or, as it is sometimes
called, the philosophy of art. For all of these
the uniformity of nature has to be assumed as
a basis of inference ; but over and above that
it is necessary to assume that other men are
conscious in the same way that I am. Now in
these sciences of mind, just as in the physical
sciences, the uniformity which is assumed in
the inferred mental facts is a growing thing
which becomes more definite as we go on, and
each successive generation of observers knows
better what to observe and what sort of
inferences may be drawn from observed things.
But, moreover, it is as true of the mental
sciences as of the physical ones that the
uniformity is in the present stage of science an
atomic uniformity. We have learned to regard
our consciousness as made up of elements
practically alike, having relations of succession
in time and of contiguity at each instant, which
relations are in all cases practically the same.
YI
RIGHT AND WRONG
123
The element of consciousness is the transference
of an impression into the beginning of action.
Our mental life is a structure made out of such
elements, just as the working of our nervous
system is made out of sensori-motor processes.
And accordingly the interaction of the two
branches of science leads us to regard the
mental facts as the realities or things-in-them-
selves, of which the material phenomena are
mere pictures or symbols. The final result
seems to be that atomism is carried beyond
phenomena into the realities which phenomena
represent; and that the observed uniformities
of nature, in so far as they can be expressed in
the language of atomism, are actual uniformities
of things in themselves.
So much for the two things which I have
promised to bring together; the facts of our
moral feelings, and the scientific method. It may
appear that the latter has been expounded at
more length than was necessary for the treatment
of this particular subject; but the justification
for this length is to be found in certain common
objections to the claims of science to be the sole
judge of mental and moral questions. Some of
the chief of these objections I will now mention.
It is sometimes said that science can only
deal with what is, but that art and morals
deal with what ought to be. The saying is
perfectly true, but it is quite consistent with
ve
124
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
1
what is equally true, that the facts of art and
morals are fit subject-matter of science. I may
describe all that I have in my house, and I
may state everything that I want in my house ;
these are two very different things, but they
are equally statements of facts. One is a
statement about phenomena, about the objects
which are actually in my possession ; the other
is a statement about my feelings, about my
wants and desires. There are facts, to be got
at by common sense, about the kind of thing
that a man of a certain character and occupa-
tion will like to have in his house, and these
facts may be organised into general statements
on the assumption of uniformity in nature.
Now the organised results of common sense
dealing with facts are just science and nothing
else. And in the same way I may say what men
do at the present day, how we live now, or I may
say what we ought to do, namely, what course of
conduct, if adopted, we should morally approve ;
and no doubt these would be two very different
things. But each of them would be a statement
of facts. One would belong to the sociology of
our time; in so far as men's deeds could not
be adequately described to us without some
account of their feelings and intentions, it would
involve facts belonging to psychology as well
as facts belonging to the physical sciences.
But the other would be an account of a par-
RIGHT AND WRONG
125
ticular class of our feelings, namely, those which
we feel towards an action when it is regarded
as right or wrong. These facts may be organ-
ised by common sense on the assumption of
uniformity in nature just as well as any other
facts. And we shall see farther on that not
only in this sense, but in a deeper and more
abstract sense, “what ought to be done" is a
question for scientific inquiry.
The same objection is sometimes put into
another form. It is said that laws of chemistry,
for example, are general statements about what
happens when bodies are treated in a certain
way, and that such laws are fit matter for
science; but that moral laws are different,
because they tell us to do certain things, and
we may or may not obey them. The mood
of the one is indicative, of the other imperative.
Now it is quite true that the word law in the
expression “law of nature," and in the expres-
sions “law of morals,” “law of the land," has
two totally different meanings, which no edu-
cated person will confound; and I am not
aware that any one has rested the claim of
science to judge moral questions on what is no
better than a stale and unprofitable pun. But
two different things may be equally matters of
scientific investigation, even when their names
are alike in sound. A telegraph post is not
the same thing as a post in the War Office,
126
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
and yet the same intelligence may be used to
investigate the conditions of the one and the
other. That such and such things are right
morals or laws of the land, these are facts, just
as the laws of chemistry are facts; and all facts
belong to science, and are her portion for ever.
Again, it is sometimes said that moral
questions have been authoritatively settled by
other methods; that we ought to accept this
decision, and not to question it by any method
of scientific inquiry ; and that reason should
give way to revelation on such matters. I
hope before I have done to show just cause
why we should pronounce on such teaching as
this no light sentence of moral condemnation :
first, because it is our duty to form those beliefs
which are to guide our actions by the two
scientific modes of inference, and by these
alone; and, secondly, because the proposed
mode of settling ethical questions by authority
is contrary to the very nature of right and wrong.
Leaving this, then, for the present, I pass
on to the most formidable objection that has
been made to a scientific treatment of ethics.
The objection is that the scientific method is
not applicable to human action, because the
rule of uniformity does not hold good. When-
ever a man exercises his will, and makes a
voluntary choice of one out of various possible
RIGHT AND WRONG
127
courses, an event occurs whose relation to con-
tiguous events cannot be included in a general
statement applicable to all similar cases.
There is something wholly capricious and dis-
orderly, belonging to that moment only; and
we have no right to conclude that if the circum-
stances were exactly repeated, and the man
himself absolutely unaltered, he would choose
It is clear that if the doctrine here stated is
true, the ground is really cut from under our
feet, and we cannot deal with human action by
the scientific method. I shall endeavour to
show, moreover, that in this case, although we
might still have a feeling of moral approbation
or reprobation towards actions, yet we could
not reasonably praise or blame men for their
deeds, nor regard them as morally responsible.
So that if my contention is just, to deprive us
of the scientific method is practically to deprive
us of morals altogether. On both grounds,
therefore, it is of the greatest importance that
we should define our position in regard to this
controversy ; if, indeed, that can be called a
controversy in which the practical belief of all
mankind and the consent of nearly all serious
writers are on one side.
Let us in the first place consider a little
more closely the connection between conscience
and responsibility. Words in common use,
128
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
1
such as these two, have their meanings practi-
cally fixed before difficult controversies arise ;
but after the controversy has arisen, each party
gives that slight tinge to the meaning which
best suits its own view of the question. Thus
it appears to each that the common language
obviously supports their own view, that this is
the natural and primary view of the matter, and
that the opponents are using words in a new
meaning and wresting them from their proper
sense. Now this is just my position. I have
endeavoured so far to use all words in their
common everyday sense, only making this as
precise as I can; and, with two exceptions, of
which due warning will be given, I shall do my
best to continue this practice in future. I seem
to myself to be talking the most obvious plati-
tudes; but it must be remembered that those
who take the opposite view will think I am
perverting the English language.
There is a common meaning of the word
“responsible," which, though not the same as
that of the phrase "morally responsible," may
throw some light upon it. If we say of a
book, “ A is responsible for the preface and the
first half, and B is responsible for the rest," we
mean that A wrote the preface and the first
half. If two people go into a shop and choose
a blue silk dress together, it might be said that
A was responsible for its being silk and B for
RIGHT AND WRONG
129
its being blue. Before they chose, the dress
was undetermined both in colour and in
material. A's choice fixed the material, and
then it was undetermined only in colour. B's
choice fixed the colour ; and if we suppose that
there were no more variable conditions (only
one blue silk dress in the shop), the dress was
then completely determined. In this sense of
the word we say that a man is responsible for
that part of an event which was undetermined
when he was left out of account, and which
became determined when he was taken account
of. Suppose two narrow streets, one lying
north and south, one east and west, and cross-
ing one another. A man is put down where
they cross, and has to walk. Then he must
walk either north, south, east, or west, and he
is not responsible for that; what he is respon-
sible for is the choice of one of these four
directions. May we not say in the present
sense of the word that the external circum-
stances are responsible for the restriction on his
choice? We should mean only that the fact
of his going in one or other of the four direc-
tions was due to external circumstances and
not to him. Again, suppose I have a number
of punches of various shapes, some square, some
oblong, some oval, some round, and that I am
going to punch a hole in a piece of paper. Where
I shall punch the hole may be fixed by any kind
VOL. II
K
130
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
of circumstances; but the shape of the hole
depends on the punch I take. May we not
say that the punch is responsible for the shape
of the hole, but not for the position of it?
It may be said that this is not the whole of
the meaning of the word “responsible," even in
its loosest sense; that it ought never to be
used except of a conscious agent. Still this is
part of its meaning ; if we regard an event as
determined by a variety of circumstances, a
man's choice being among them, we say that
he is responsible for just that choice which is
left him by the other circumstances.
When we ask the practical question, “Who
is responsible for so-and-so?”. we want to find
out who is to be got at in order that so-and-so
may be altered. If I want to change the shape
of the hole I make in my paper, I must change
my punch; but this will be of no use if I want
to change the position of the hole. If I want
the colour of the dress changed from blue to
green, it is B, and not A, that I must persuade.
We mean something more than this when
we say that a man is morally responsible for an
action. It seems to me that moral respon-
sibility and conscience go together, both in
regard to the man and in regard to the action.
In order that a man may be morally respon-
sible for an action, the man must have a con-
science, and the action must be one in regard
RIGHT AND WRONG
131
to which conscience is capable of acting as a
motive, that is, the action must be capable of
being right or wrong. If a child were left on
a desert island and grew up wholly without a
conscience, and then were brought among men,
he would not be morally responsible for his
actions until he had acquired a conscience by
education. He would of course be responsible,
in the sense just explained, for that part of
them which was left undetermined by external
circumstances, and if we wanted to alter his
actions in these respects we should have to do
it by altering him. But it would be useless and
unreasonable to attempt to do this by means
of praise or blame, the expression of moral
approbation or disapprobation, until he had
acquired a conscience which could be worked
upon by such means.
It seems, then, that in order that a man may
be morally responsible for an action, three things
are necessary :
1. He might have done something else ;
that is to say, the action was not wholly de-
termined by external circumstances, and he is
responsible only for the choice which was left him.
2. He had a conscience.
3. The action was one in regard to the
doing or not doing of which conscience might
be a sufficient motive.
These three things are necessary, but it does
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
not follow that they are sufficient. It is very
commonly said that the action must be a
voluntary one. It will be found, I think, that
this is contained in my third condition, and also
that the form of statement I have adopted ex-
hibits more clearly the reason why the condition
is necessary. We may say that an action is
involuntary either when it is instinctive, or
when one motive is so strong that there is no
voluntary choice between motives. An in-
voluntary cough produced by irritation of the
glottis is no proper subject for blame or praise.
A man is not responsible for it, because it is
done by a part of his body without consulting
him. What is meant by him in this case will
require further investigation. Again, when a
dipsomaniac has so great and overmastering an
inclination to drink that we cannot conceive of
conscience being strong enough to conquer it,
he is not responsible for that act, though he
may be responsible for having got himself into
the state. But if it is conceivable that a very
strong conscience fully brought to bear might
succeed in conquering the inclination, we may
take a lenient view of the fall and say there
was a very strong temptation, but we shall
still regard it as a fall, and say that the man is
responsible and a wrong has been done."
1 [It seems worth noting that this very closely coincides with
far insanity excludes criminal responsibility. ]
RIGHT AND WRONG
133
voluntary and involuntary action that the whole
crux of the matter lies, let us examine more
closely into it. I say that when I cough or
sneeze involuntarily, it is really not I that
cough or sneeze, but a part of my body which
acts without consulting me. This action is
determined for me by the circumstances, and is
not part of the choice that is left to me, so that
I am not responsible for it. The question comes
then to determining how much is to be called
circumstances, and how much is to be called me.
Now I want to describe what happens when
I voluntarily do anything, and there are two
courses open to me. I may describe the things
in themselves, my feelings and the general
analogy between my consciousness and yours
to make me understood ; or I may describe
these things as nature describes them to your
senses, namely, in terms of the phenomena of
my nervous system, appealing to your memory
of phenomena and your knowledge of physical
action. I shall do both, because in some
respects our knowledge is more complete from
the one source, and in some respects from the
other. When I look back and reflect upon a
voluntary action, I seem to find that it differs
from an involuntary action in the fact that
a certain portion of my character has been
134
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
consulted. There is always a suggestion of some
sort, either the end of a train of thought or a
new sensation, and there is an action ensuing,
either the movement of a muscle or set of
muscles, or the fixing of attention upon some-
thing. But between these two there is a con-
sultation, as it were, of my past history. The
suggestion is viewed in the light of everything
bearing on it that I think of at the time, and
in virtue of this light it moves me to act in
one or more ways. Let us first suppose that
no hesitation is involved, that only one way of
acting is suggested, and I yield to this impulse
and act in the particular way. This is the
simplest kind of voluntary action. It differs
from involuntary or instinctive action in the
fact that with the latter there is no such con-
scious consultation of past history. If we
describe these facts in terms of the phenomena
which picture them to other minds, we shall
say that in involuntary action a message passes
straight through from the sensory to the motor
centre, and so on to the muscles, without con-
sulting the cerebrum ; while in voluntary action
the message is passed on from the sensory
centre to the cerebrum, there translated into
appropriate motor stimuli, carried down to the
motor centre, and so on to the muscles. There
may be other differences, but at least there is
this difference. Now on the physical side that
RIGHT AND WRONG
135
which determines what groups of cerebral fibres
shall be set at work by the given message, and
what groups of motor stimuli shall be set at
work by these, is the mechanism of my brain
at the time; and on the mental side that which
determines what memories shall be called up
by the given sensation, and what motives these
memories shall bring into action, is my mental
character. We may say, then, in this simplest
case of voluntary action, that when the sugges-
tion is given it is the character of me which deter-
mines the character of the ensuing action ; and
consequently that I am responsible for choosing
that particular course out of those which were
left open to me by the external circumstances.
This is when I yield to the impulse. But
suppose I do not; suppose that the original
suggestion, viewed in the light of memory, sets
various motives in action, each motive belong-
ing to a certain class of things which I remember.
Then I choose which of these motives shall
prevail. Those who carefully watch themselves
find out that a particular motive is made to
prevail by the fixing of the attention upon that
class of remembered things which calls up the
motive. The physical side of this is the send-
ing of blood to a certain set of nerves namely,
those whose action corresponds to the memories
which are to be attended to. The sending
of blood is accomplished by the pinching of
UU
136
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
arteries; and there are special nerves, called
vaso-motor nerves, whose business it is to
carry messages to the walls of the arteries and
get them pinched. Now this act of directing
the attention may be voluntary or involuntary,
just like any other act. When the transformed
and reinforced nerve-message gets to the vaso-
motor centre, some part of it may be so pre-
dominant that a message goes straight off to
the arteries, and sends a quantity of blood to
the nerves supplying that part; or the call for
blood may be sent back for revision by the
cerebrum, which is thus again consulted. To
say the same thing in terms of my feelings, a
particular class of memories roused by the
original suggestion may seize upon my atten-
tion before I have time to choose what I will
attend to; or the appeal may be carried to a
deeper part of my character dealing with wider
and more abstract conceptions, which views the
conflicting motives in the light of a past ex-
perience of motives, and by that light is drawn
to one or the other of them,
We thus get to a sort of motive of the
second order or motive of motives. Is there
any reason why we should not go on to a
motive of the third order, and the fourth, and
so on ? None whatever that I know of, except
that no one has ever observed such a thing.
There seems plenty of room for the requisite
RIGHT AND WRONG
137
mechanism on the physical side ; and no one
can say, on the mental side, how complex is
the working of his consciousness. But we must
carefully distinguish between the intellectual
deliberation about motives, which applies to the
future and the past, and the practical choice of
motives in the moment of will. The former
may be a train of any length and complexity :
we have no reason to believe that the latter is
more than engine and tender.
We are now in a position to classify actions
in respect of the kind of responsibility which
belongs to them ; namely, we have
1. Involuntary or instinctive actions.
2. Voluntary actions in which the choice of
motives is involuntary.
3. Voluntary actions in which the choice of
motives is voluntary.
In each of these cases what is responsible is
that part of my character which determines
what the action shall be. For instinctive
actions we do not say that I am responsible,
because the choice is made before I know any-
thing about it. For voluntary actions I am
responsible, because I make the choice; that
is, the character of me is what determines the
character of the action. In me, then, for this
purpose, is included the aggregate of links of
association which determines what memories
shall be called up by a given suggestion, and
138
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
what motives shall be set at work by these
memories. But we distinguish this mass of
passions and pleasures, desire and knowledge
and pain, which makes up most of my character
at the moment, from that inner and deeper
motive-choosing self which is called Reason,
and the Will, and the Ego; which is only
responsible when motives are voluntarily chosen
by directing attention to them. It is responsible
only for the choice of one motive out of those
presented to it, not for the nature of the
motives which are presented.
But again, I may reasonably be blamed for
what I did yesterday, or a week ago, or last
year. This is because I am permanent; in so
far as from my actions of that date an inference
may be drawn about my character now, it is
reasonable that I should be treated as praise-
worthy or blameable. And within certain
limits I am for the same reason responsible for
what I am now, because within certain limits I
have made myself. Even instinctive actions
are dependent in may cases upon habits which
may be altered by proper attention and care ;
and still more the nature of the connections
between sensation and action, the associations
of memory and motive, may be voluntarily
modified if I choose to try. The habit of
choosing among motives is one which may be
acquired and strengthened by practice, and the
RIGHT 111
139
AND WRONG
strength of particular motives, by continually
directing attention to them, may be almost in-
definitely increased or diminished. Thus, if by
ine is meant not the instantaneous me of this
moment, but the aggregate me of my past life,
or even of the last year, the range of my re-
sponsibility is very largely increased. I am
responsible for a very large portion of the
circumstances which are now external to me;
that is to say, I am responsible for certain of
the restrictions on my own freedom. As the
eagle was shot with an arrow that flew on its
own feather, so I find myself bound with
fetters of my proper forging.
Let us now endeavour to conceive an action
which is not determined in any way by the
character of the agent. If we ask, “What
makes it to be that action and no other ? " we
are told, “The man's Ego.” The words are
here used, it seems to me, in some non-natural
sense, if in any sense at all. One thing makes
another to be what it is when the characters of
the two things are connected together by some
general statement or rule. But we have to
suppose that the character of the action is not
connected with the character of the Ego by
any general statement or rule. With the same
Ego and the same circumstances of all kinds,
anything within the limits imposed by the
circumstances may happen at any moment. I
140
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
find myself unable to conceive any distinct
sense in which responsibility could apply in this
case; nor do I see at all how it would be
reasonable to use praise or blame. If the
action does not depend on the character, what
is the use of trying to alter the character ?
Suppose, however, that this indeterminateness is
only partial ; that the character does add some
restrictions to those already imposed by cir-
cumstances, but leaves the choice between
certain actions undetermined, and to be settled
by chance or the transcendental Ego. Is it not
clear that the man would be responsible for
precisely that part of the character of the action
which was determined by his character, and not
for what was left undetermined by it ? For it
is just that part which was determined by his
character which it is reasonable to try to alter
by altering him.
We who believe in uniformity are not the
only people unable to conceive responsibility
without it. These are the words of Sir W.
Hamilton, as quoted by Mr. J. S. Mill?:-
“Nay, were we even to admit as true what
we cannot think as possible, still the doctrine of
a motiveless volition would be only casualism;
and the free acts of an indifferent are, morally
and rationally, as worthless as the pre-ordered
passions of a determined will."
1 Examination, p. 495, 2nd ed.
RIGHT AND WRONG
141
“That, though inconceivable, a motiveless
volition would, if conceived, be conceived as
morally worthless, only shows our impotence
more clearly."
“Is the person an original undetermined
cause of the determination of his will? If he
be not, then he is not a free agent, and the
scheme of Necessity is admitted. If he be, in
the first place, it is impossible to conceive the
possibility of this; and in the second, if the
fact, though inconceivable, be allowed, it is im-
possible to see how a cause, undetermined by
any motive, can be a rational, moral, and ac-
countable cause."
It is true that Hamilton also says that the
scheme of necessity is inconceivable, because it
leads to an infinite non-commencement; and
that "the possibility of morality depends on the
possibility of liberty; for if a man be not a
free agent, he is not the author of his actions,
and has therefore no responsibility—no moral
personality at all.”
I know nothing about necessity; I only
believe that nature is practically uniform even
in human action. I know nothing about an
infinitely distant past; I only know that I
ought to base on uniformity those inferences
which are to guide my actions. But that
man is a free agent appears to me obvious,
and that in the natural sense of the words.
142
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
We need ask for no better definition than
Kant's :-
“Will is a kind of causality belonging to
living agents, in so far as they are rational;
and freedom is such a property of that causality
as enables them to be efficient agents independ-
ently of outside causes determining them; as,
on the other hand, necessity (Naturnothwendig-
keit) is that property of all irrational beings
which consists in their being determined to
activity by the influence of outside causes.” 1
I believe that I am a free agent when my
actions are independent of the control of cir-
cumstances outside me; and it seems a misuse
of language to call me a free agent if my
actions are determined by a transcendental Ego
who is independent of the circumstances inside
me—that is to say, of my character. The ex-
pression “ free will ” has unfortunately been
imported into mental science from a theological
controversy rather different from the one we
are now considering. It is surely too much to
expect that good and serviceable English words
should be sacrificed to a phantom.
In an admirable book, The Methods of
Ethics, Mr. Henry Sidgwick has stated, with
supreme fairness and impartiality, both sides of
this question. After setting forth the “almost
overwhelming cumulative proof” of uniformity
.Metaphysics of Ethics, chap. iii.
RIGHT AND WRONG
143
in human action, he says that it seems "more
than balanced by a single argument on the
other side : the immediate affirmation of con-
sciousness in the moment of deliberate volition."
“No amount of experience of the sway of
motives ever tends to make me distrust my
intuitive consciousness that in resolving, after
deliberation, I exercise free choice as to which
of the motives acting upon me shall prevail.”
The only answer to this argument is that it
is not “on the other side." There is no doubt
about the deliverance of consciousness; and
even if our powers of self-observation had not
been acute enough to discover it, the existence
of some choice between motives would be
proved by the existence of vaso-motor nerves.
But perhaps the most instructive way of meeting
arguments of this kind is to inquire what
consciousness ought to say in order that its
deliverances may be of any use in the con-
troversy. It is affirmed, on the side of
uniformity, that the feelings in my conscious-
ness in the moment of voluntary choice have
been preceded by facts out of my consciousness
which are related to them in a uniform manner,
so that if the previous facts had been accurately
known the voluntary choice might have been
predicted. On the other side this is denied.
To be of any use in the controversy, then, the
immediate deliverance of my consciousness
144
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
must be competent to assure me of the non-
existence of something which by hypothesis is
not in my consciousness. Given an absolutely
dark room, can my sense of sight assure me
that there is no one but myself in it? Can
my sense of hearing assure me that nothing
inaudible is going on? As little can the
immediate deliverance of my consciousness
assure me that the uniformity of nature does
not apply to human actions.
It is perhaps necessary, in connection with
this question, to refer to that singular Material-
ism of high authority and recent date which
makes consciousness a physical agent, “cor-
relates " it with Light and Nerve-force, and so
reduces it to an objective phenomenon. This
doctrine is founded on a common and very useful
mode of speech, in which we say, for example,
that a good fire is a source of pleasure on a
cold day, and that a man's feeling of chill
may make him run to it. But so also we say
that the sun rises and sets every morning and
night, although the man in the moon sees clearly
that this is due to the rotation of the earth.
One cannot be pedantic all day. But if we
choose for once to be pedantic, the matter is
after all very simple. Suppose that I am made
to run by feeling a chill. When I begin to
move my leg, I may observe if I like a double
series of facts. I have the feeling of effort,
RIGHT AND WRONG
145
the sensation of motion in my leg ; I feel the
pressure of my foot on the ground. Along
with this I may see with my eyes, or feel with
my hands, the motion of my leg as a material
object. The first series of facts belongs to me
alone; the second may be equally observed by
anybody else. The mental series began first;
I willed to move my leg before I saw it move.
But when I know more about the matter, I can
trace the material series farther back, and find
nerve-messages going to the muscles of my leg
to make it move. But I had a feeling of chill
before I chose to move my leg. Accordingly,
I can find nerve-messages, excited by the
contraction due to the low temperature, going
to my brain from the chilled skin. Assuming
the uniformity of nature, I carry forward and
backward both the mental and the material
series. A uniformity is observed in each, and
a parallelism is observed between them, when-
ever observations can be made. But sometimes
one series is known better, and sometimes the
other; so that in telling a story we quite
naturally speak sometimes of mental facts and
sometimes of material facts. A feeling of chill
made a man run; strictly speaking, the nervous
disturbance which coexisted with that feeling
of chill made him run, if we want to talk about
material facts; or the feeling of chill produced
the form of sub-consciousness which coexists
VOL. II
146
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
with the motion of legs, if we want to talk
about mental facts. But we know nothing
about the special nervous disturbance which
coexists with a feeling of chill, because it has
not yet been localised in the brain ; and we
know nothing about the form of sub-conscious-
ness which coexists with the motion of legs ;
although there is very good reason for believing
in the existence of both. So we talk about the
feeling of chill and the running, because in one
case we know the mental side, and in the other
the material side. A man might show me a
picture of the battle of Gravelotte, and say,
“You can't see the battle, because it's all over,
but there is a picture of it.” And then he
might put a chassepot into my hand, and say,
“We could not represent the whole construction
of a chassepot in the picture, but you can
examine this one, and find it out.” If I now
insisted on mixing up the two modes of
communication of knowledge, if I expected
that the chassepots in the picture would go off,
and said that the one in my hand was painted
on heavy canvas, I should be acting exactly in
the spirit of the new materialism. For the
material facts are a representation or symbol of
the mental facts, just as a picture is a representa-
tion or symbol of a battle. And my own mind
is a reality from which I can judge by analogy
of the realities represented by other men's
RIGHT AND WRONG
147
brains, just as the chassepot in my hand is a
reality from which I can judge by analogy of
the chassepots represented in the picture.
When, therefore, we ask, “What is the physical
link between the ingoing message from chilled
skin and the outgoing message which moves
the leg?" and the answer is, “A man's Will,"
we have as much right to be amused as if we
had asked our friend with the picture what
pigment was used in painting the cannon in
the foreground, and received the answer,
“Wrought iron." It will be found excellent
practice in the mental operations required by
this doctrine to imagine a train, the forepart of
which is an engine and three carriages linked
with iron couplings, and the hind part three
other carriages linked with iron couplings; the
bond between the two parts being made out of
the sentiments of amity subsisting between the
stoker and the guard.
To sum up: the uniformity of nature in
human actions has been denied on the ground
that it takes away responsibility, that it is
contradicted by the testimony of consciousness,
and that there is a physical correlation between
mind and matter. We have replied that the
uniformity of nature is necessary to responsibility,
that it is affirmed by the testimony of con-
sciousness whenever consciousness is competent
to testify, and that matter is the phenomenon
148
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
1
or symbol of which mind or quasi-mind is the
symbolised and represented thing. We are
now free to continue our inquiries on the
supposition that nature is uniform.
We began by describing the moral sense of
an Englishman. No doubt the description
would serve very well for the more civilised
nations of Europe ; most closely for Germans
and Dutch. But the fact that we can speak in
this way discloses that there is more than one
moral sense, and that what I feel to be right
another man may feel to be wrong. Thus we
cannot help asking whether there is any reason
for preferring one moral sense to another ;
whether the question, “ What is right to do?"
has in any one set of circumstances a single
answer which can be definitely known.
Clearly, in the first rough sense of the word,
this is not true. What is right for me to do
now, seeing that I am here with a certain
character, and a certain moral sense as part of
it, is just what I feel to be right. The
individual conscience is, in the moment of
volition, the only possible judge of what is
right; there is no conflicting claim. But if we
are deliberating about the future, we know that
we can modify our conscience gradually by
associating with people, reading certain books,
and paying attention to certain ideas and
feelings; and we may ask ourselves, “How
RIGHT AND WRONG
149
shall we modify our conscience, if at all? what
kind of conscience shall we try to get ? what is
the best conscience ?" We may ask similar
questions about our sense of taste. There is
no doubt at present that the nicest things to
me are the things I like; but I know that I
can train myself to like some things and
dislike others, and that things which are very
nasty at one time may come to be great
delicacies at another. I may ask, "How shall
I train myself? What is the best taste ?"
And this leads very naturally to putting the
question in another form, namely, “What is
taste good for? What is the purpose or
function of taste ?" We should probably find
as the answer to that question that the purpose
or function of taste is to discriminate whole-
some food from unwholesome; that it is a
matter of stomach and digestion. It will follow
from this that the best taste is that which
prefers wholesome food, and that by cultivating
a preference for wholesome and nutritious
things I shall be training my palate in the way
it should go. In just the same way our
question about the best conscience will resolve
itself into a question about the purpose or
function of the conscience-why we have got
it, and what it is good for.
Now to my mind the simplest and clearest
and most profound philosophy that was ever
150
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
written upon this subject is to be found in the
2nd and 3rd chapters of Mr. Darwin's Descent of
Man. In these chapters it appears that just as
most physical characteristics of organisms have
been evolved and preserved because they were
useful to the individual in the struggle for ex-
istence against other individuals and other
species, so this particular feeling has been
evolved and preserved because it is useful to
the tribe or community in the struggle for ex-
istence against other tribes, and against the
environment as a whole. The function of con-
science is the preservation of the tribe as a
tribe. And we shall rightly train our con-
sciences if we learn to approve those actions
which tend to the advantage of the community
in the struggle for existence.
There are here some words, however, which
require careful definition. And first the word
purpose. A thing serves a purpose when it is
adapted to some end ; thus a corkscrew is
adapted to the end of extracting corks from
bottles, and our lungs are adapted to the end
of respiration. We may say that the extrac-
tion of corks is the purpose of the corkscrew,
and that respiration is the purpose of the lungs.
But here we shall have used the word in two
different senses. A man made the corkscrew
with a purpose in his mind, and he knew and
intended that it should be used for pulling out
RIGHT AND WRONG
151
corks. But nobody made our lungs with a
purpose in his mind, and intended that they
should be used for breathing. The respiratory
apparatus was adapted to its purpose by natural
selection--namely, by the gradual preservation
of better and better adaptations, and the killing
off of the worse and imperfect adaptations. In
using the word purpose for the result of this
unconscious process of adaptation by survival
of the fittest, I know that I am somewhat ex-
tending its ordinary sense, which implies con-
sciousness. But it seems to me that on the
score of convenience there is a great deal to be
said for this extension of meaning. We want
a word to express the adaptation of means to
an end, whether involving consciousness or not;
the word purpose will do very well, and the
adjective purposive has already been used in
this sense. But if the use is admitted, we must
distinguish two kinds of purpose. There is the
unconscious purpose which is attained by
natural selection, in which no consciousness
need be concerned ; and there is the conscious
purpose of an intelligence which designs a thing
that it may serve to do something which he
desires to be done. The distinguishing mark
of this second kind, design or conscious purpose,
is that in the consciousness of the agent there
is an image or symbol of the end which he
desires, and this precedes and determines the
152
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
use of the means. Thus the man who first
invented a corkscrew must have previously
known that corks were in bottles, and have
desired to get them out. We may describe
this if we like in terms of matter, and say that
a purpose of the second kind implies a complex
nervous system, in which there can be formed
an image or symbol of the end, and that this
symbol determines the use of the means. The
nervous image or symbol of anything is that
mode of working of part of my brain which
goes on simultaneously and is correlated with
my thinking of the thing.
Aristotle defines an organism as that in
which the part exists for the sake of the whole.
It is not that the existence of the part depends
on the existence of the whole, for every whole
exists only as an aggregate of parts related in
a certain way; but that the shape and nature
of the part are determined by the wants of the
are what they are, not for the sake of my foot
itself, but for the sake of my whole body, and
because it wants to move about. That which
the part has to do for the whole is called its
function. Thus the function of my foot is to
support me, and assist in locomotion. Not all
the nature of the part is necessarily for the sake of
the whole : the comparative callosity of the skin
of my sole is for the protection of my foot itself.
RIGHT AND WRONG
153
Society is an organism, and man in society
is part of an organism according to this defini-
tion, in so far as some portion of the nature of
man is what it is for the sake of the whole
-society. Now conscience is such a portion
of the nature of man, and its function is
the preservation of society in the struggle for
existence. We may be able to define this func-
tion more closely when we know more about
the way in which conscience tends to preserve
society.
Next let us endeavour to make precise the
meaning of the words community and society.
It is clear that at different times men may be
divided into groups of greater or less extent-
tribes, clans, families, nations, towns. If a
certain number of clans are struggling for
existence, that portion of the conscience will be
developed which tends to the preservation of
the clan; so, if towns or families are strug-
gling, we shall get a moral sense adapted to
the advantage of the town or the family. In
this way different portions of the moral sense
may be developed at different stages of pro-
gress. Now it is clear that for the purpose of
the conscience the word community at any time
will mean a group of that size and nature which
is being selected or not selected for survival as
a whole. Selection may be going on at the
same time among many different kinds of
154
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
groups. And ultimately the moral sense will
be composed of various portions relating to
various groups, the function or purpose of each
portion being the advantage of that group to
which it relates in the struggle for existence.
Thus we have a sense of family duty, of muni-
cipal duty, of national duty, and of duties
towards all mankind.
It is to be noticed that part of the nature
of a smaller group may be what it is for the
sake of a larger group to which it belongs ;
and then we may speak of the function of the
smaller group. Thus it appears probable that
the family, in the form in which it now exists
among us, is determined by the good of the
nation; and we may say that the function of
the family is to promote the advantage of the
nation or larger society in some certain ways.
But I do not think it would be right to follow
Auguste Comte in speaking of the function of
humanity ; because humanity is obviously not
a part of any larger organism for whose sake it
is what it is.
Now that we have cleared up the meanings
of some of our words, we are still a great way
from the definite solution of our question,
“What is the best conscience ? or what ought
I to think right?" For we do not yet know
what is for the advantage of the community in
the struggle for existence. If we choose to
RIGHT AND WRONG
155
learn by the analogy of an individual organism,
we may see that no permanent or final answer
can be given, because the organism grows in
consequence of the struggle, and develops new
wants while it is satisfying the old ones. But
at any given time it has quite enough to do to
keep alive and to avoid dangers and diseases.
So we may expect that the wants and even the
necessities of the social organism will grow
with its growth, and that it is impossible to
predict what may tend in the distant future to
its advantage in the struggle for existence.
But still, in this vague and general statement
of the functions of conscience, we shall find
that we have already established a great deal.
In the first place, right is an affair of the
community, and must not be referred to any-
thing else. To go back to our analogy of
taste: if I tried to persuade you that the best
palate was that which preferred things pretty
to look at, you might condemn me a priori
without any experience, by merely knowing
that taste is an affair of stomach and digestion
—that its function is to select wholesome food.
And so, if any one tries to persuade us that the
best conscience is that which thinks it right to
obey the will of some individual, as a deity or
a monarch, he is condemned a priori in the
very nature of right and wrong. In order that
the worship of a deity may be consistent with
156
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
most is the of his
natural ethics, he must be regarded as the
friend and helper of humanity, and his character
must be judged from his actions by a moral
standard which is independent of him. And
this, it must be admitted, is the position which
has been taken by most English divines, as
long as they were Englishmen first and divines
afterwards. The worship of a deity who is
represented as unfair or unfriendly to any
portion of the community is a wrong thing,
however great may be the threats and promises
by which it is commended. And still worse,
the reference of right and wrong to his arbitrary
will as a standard, the diversion of the allegiance
of the moral sense from the community to him,
is the most insidious and fatal of social diseases.
It was against this that the Teutonic conscience
protested in the Reformation. Again, in
monarchical countries, in order that allegiance
to the sovereign may be consistent with natural
ethics, he must be regarded as the servant
and symbol of the national unity, capable of
rebellion and punishable for it. And this has
been the theory of the English constitution
from time immemorial.?
The first principle of natural ethics, then, is
the sole and supreme allegiance of conscience
i [Rex autem habet superiorem, Deum scilicet. Item legem per
quam factus est rex. Item curiam suam ... et ideo si rex fuerit
sine fraeno, id est sine lege, debent ei fraenum ponere. --Bracton,
fo. 34 a.]
RIGHT AND WRONG
157
1
to the community. I venture to call this piety
in accordance with the older meaning of the
word. Even if it should turn out impossible to
sever it from the unfortunate associations which
have clung to its later meaning, still it seems
worth while to try.
An immediate deduction from our principle
is that there are no self - regarding virtues
properly so called ; those qualities which tend
to the advantage and preservation of the
individual being only morally right in so far as
they make him a more useful citizen. And this
conclusion is in some cases of great practical
importance. The virtue of purity, for example,
attains in this way a fairly exact definition ;
purity in a man is that course of conduct which
makes him to be a good husband and father, in
a woman that which makes her to be a good
wife and mother, or which helps other people so
to prepare and keep themselves. It is easy to
see how many false ideas and pernicious pre-
cepts are swept away by even so simple a
definition as that.
Next, we may fairly define our position in
regard to that moral system which has
deservedly found favour with the great mass of
our countrymen. In the common statement of
utilitarianism the end of right action is defined
to be the greatest happiness of the greatest
number. It seems to me that the reason and the
158
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
ample justification of the success of this system
is that it explicitly sets forth the community
as the object of moral allegiance. But our
determination of the purpose of the conscience
will oblige us to make a change in the state-
ment of it. Happiness is not the end of right
action. My happiness is of no use to the
community except in so far as it makes me a
more efficient citizen ; that is to say, it is rightly
desired as a means and not as an end. The
end may be described as the greatest efficiency
of all citizens as such. No doubt happiness
will in the long run accrue to the community
as a consequence of right conduct; but the
right is determined independently of the happi-
ness, and, as Plato says, it is better to suffer
wrong than to do wrong.
In conclusion, I would add some words on
the relation of Veracity to the first principle of
Piety. It is clear that veracity is founded on
faith in man; you tell a man the truth when
you can trust him with it and are not afraid.
This perhaps is made more evident by con-
sidering the case of exception allowed by all
moralists-namely, that if a man asks you the
way with a view to committing a murder it is
right to tell a lie and misdirect him. The
reason why he must not have the truth told
him is that he would make a bad use of it; he
cannot be trusted with it. About these cases
RIGHT AND WRONG
159
of exception an important remark must be
made in passing. When we hear that a man
has told a lie under such circumstances, we are
indeed ready to admit that for once it was
right, mensonge admirable ; but we always have
a sort of feeling that it must not occur again.
And the same thing applies to cases of con-
flicting obligations, when for example the
family conscience and the national conscience
disagree. In such cases no general rule can be
laid down; we have to choose the less of two
evils ; but this is not right altogether in the
same sense as it is right to speak the truth.
There is something wrong in the circumstances
that we should have to choose an evil at all.
The actual course to be pursued will vary with
the progress of society ; that evil which at first
was greater will become less, and in a perfect
society the conflict will be resolved into
harmony. But meanwhile these cases of ex-
ception must be carefully kept distinct from
the straightforward cases of right and wrong,
and they always imply an obligation to mend
the circumstances if we can.
Veracity to an individual is not only enjoined
by piety in virtue of the obvious advantage
which attends a straightforward and mutually
trusting community as compared with others,
but also because deception is in all cases a
personal injury. Still more is this true of
160
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
veracity to the community itself. The con-
ception of the universe or aggregate of beliefs
which forms the link between sensation and
action for each individual is a public and not a
private matter; it is formed by society and for
society. Of what enormous importance it is to
the community that this should be a true con-
ception I need not attempt to describe. Now
to the attainment of this true conception two
things are necessary.
First, if we study the history of those
methods by which true beliefs and false beliefs
have been attained, we shall see that it is our
duty to guide our beliefs by inference from
experience on the assumption of uniformity of
nature and consciousness in other men, and by
this only. Only upon this moral basis can the
foundations of the empirical method be justified.
Secondly, veracity to the community depends
upon faith in man. Surely I ought to be
talking platitudes when I say that it is not
English to tell a man a lie, or to suggest a lie
by your silence or your actions, because you
are afraid that he is not prepared for the truth,
because you don't quite know what he will do
when he knows it, because perhaps after all this
lie is a better thing for him than the truth would
be, this same man being all the time an honest
fellow-citizen whom you have every reason to
trust. Surely I have heard that this craven
RIGHT AND WRONG
161
crookedness is the object of our national
detestation. And yet it is constantly whispered
that it would be dangerous to divulge certain
truths to the masses. "I know the whole
thing is untrue : but then it is so useful for the
people ; you don't know what harm you might
do by shaking their faith in it." Crooked ways
are none the less crooked because they are
meant to deceive great masses of people instead
of individuals. If a thing is true let us all
believe it, rich and poor, men, women, and
children. If a thing is untrue let us all dis-
believe it, rich and poor, men, women, and
children. Truth is a thing to be shouted from
the housetops, not to be whispered over rose-
water after dinner when the ladies are gone
away.
Even in those whom I would most reverence,
who would shrink with horror from such actual
deception as I have just mentioned, I find
traces of a want of faith in man. Even that
noble thinker, to whom we of this generation
owe more than I can tell, seemed to say in one
of his posthumous essays that in regard to
questions of great public importance we might
encourage a hope in excess of the evidence
(which would infallibly grow into a belief and
defy evidence) if we found that life was made
more by nourishing a tendency to falsehood
VOL. II
M
162
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
than we could gain by the delusion of a pleasing
fancy. Life must first of all be made straight
and true; it may get easier through the help
this brings to the commonwealth. And the
great historian of materialism 1 says that the
amount of false belief necessary to morality in
a given society is a matter of taste. I cannot
believe that any falsehood whatever is necessary
to morality. It cannot be true of my race and
yours that to keep ourselves from becoming
scoundrels we must needs believe a lie. The
sense of right grew up among healthy men and
was fixed by the practice of comradeship. It
has never had help from phantoms and false-
hoods, and it never can want any. By faith in
each other the right hitherto; with faith in
man and piety towards men we shall never
more depart from it.
i Lange, Geschichte des Materialismus,
THE ETHICS OF BELIEFI
1.—THE DUTY OF INQUIRY
A SHIPOWNER was about to send to sea an
emigrant-ship. He knew that she was old, and
not over-well built at the first ; that she had
seen many seas and climes, and often had
needed repairs. Doubts had been suggested to
him that possibly she was not seaworthy.
These doubts preyed upon his mind and made
him unhappy; he thought that perhaps he
ought to have her thoroughly overhauled and
refitted, even though this should put him to
great expense. Before the ship sailed, however,
he succeeded in overcoming these melancholy
reflections. He said to himself that she had gone
safely through so many voyages and weathered
so many storms that it was idle to suppose
she would not come safely home from this
trip also. He would put his trust in Providence,
which could hardly fail to protect all these
unhappy families that were leaving their father-
i Contemporary Review, January 1877.
164
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
1
land to seek for better times elsewhere. He
would dismiss from his mind all ungenerous
suspicions about the honesty of builders and
contractors. In such ways he acquired a
sincere and comfortable conviction that his
vessel was thoroughly safe and seaworthy; he
watched her departure with a light heart, and
benevolent wishes for the success of the exiles
in their strange new home that was to be; and
he got his insurance-money when she went
down in mid-ocean and told no tales.
What shall we say of him ? Surely this,
that he was verily guilty of the death of those
men. It is admitted that he did sincerely
believe in the soundness of his ship ; but the
sincerity of his conviction can in no wise help
him, because he had no right to believe on such
evidence as was before him. He had acquired
his belief not by honestly earning it in patient
investigation, but by stilling his doubts. And
although in the end he may have felt so sure
about it that he could not think otherwise, yet
inasmuch as he had knowingly and willingly
worked himself into that frame of mind, he
must be held responsible for it.
Let us alter the case a little, and suppose
that the ship was not unsound after all; that
she made her voyage safely, and many others
after it. Will that diminish the guilt of her
owner? Not one jot. When an action is once
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
165
O
done, it is right or wrong for ever; no accidental
failure of its good or evil fruits can possibly
alter that. The man would not have been
innocent, he would only have been not found
out. The question of right or wrong has to do
with the origin of his belief, not the matter of
it; not what it was, but how he got it; not
whether it turned out to be true or false, but
whether he had a right to believe on such
evidence as was before him
There was once an island in which some of
the inhabitants professed a religion teaching
neither the doctrine of original sin nor that
of eternal punishment. A suspicion got abroad
that the professors of this religion had made
use of unfair means to get their doctrines
taught to children. They were accused of
wresting the laws of their country in such a
way as to remove children from the care of
their natural and legal guardians; and even of
stealing them away and keeping them concealed
from their friends and relations. A certain
number of men formed themselves into a
society for the purpose of agitating the public
about this matter. They published grave
accusations against individual citizens of the
highest position and character, and did all in
their power to injure these citizens in the
exercise of their professions. So great was
the noise they made, that a Commission was
166
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
appointed to investigate the facts; but after
the Commission had carefully inquired into all
the evidence that could be got, it appeared that
the accused were innocent. Not only had they
been accused on insufficient evidence, but the
evidence of their innocence was such as the
agitators might easily have obtained, if they
had attempted a fair inquiry. After these
disclosures the inhabitants of that country
looked upon the members of the agitating
society, not only as persons whose judgment
was to be distrusted, but also as no longer to
be counted honourable men. For although
they had sincerely and conscientiously believed
in the charges they had made, yet they had no
right to believe on such evidence as was before
them. Their sincere convictions, instead of
being honestly earned by patient inquiring,
were stolen by listening to the voice of prejudice
and passion.
Let us vary this case also, and suppose,
other things remaining as before, that a still
more accurate investigation proved the accused
to have been really guilty. Would this make
any difference in the guilt of the accusers ?
Clearly not; the question is not whether their
belief was true or false, but whether they enter-
tained it on wrong grounds. They would no
doubt say, "Now you see that we were right
after all; next time perhaps you will believe
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
167
us." And they might be believed, but they
would not thereby become honourable men.
They would not be innocent, they would only
be not found out. Every one of them, if he
chose to examine himself in foro conscientia,
would know that he had acquired and nourished
a belief, when he had no right to believe on
such evidence as was before him; and therein
he would know that he had done a wrong thing.
It may be said, however, that in both of these
supposed .cases it is not the belief which is
judged to be wrong, but the action following
upon it. The shipowner might say, “I am
perfectly certain that my ship is sound, but still
I feel it my duty to have her examined, before
trusting the lives of so many people to her."
And it might be said to the agitator, “How-
ever convinced you were of the justice of your
cause and the truth of your convictions, you
ought not to have made a public attack upon
any man's character until you had examined
the evidence on both sides with the utmost
patience and care."
In the first place, let us admit that, so far
as it goes, this view of the case is right and
necessary; right, because even when a man's
belief is so fixed that he cannot think otherwise,
he still has a choice in regard to the action
suggested by it, and so cannot escape the duty
of investigating on the ground of the strength
168
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
of his convictions; and necessary, because
those who are not yet capable of controlling
their feelings and thoughts must have a plain
rule dealing with overt acts.
. But this being premised as necessary, it
becomes clear that it is not sufficient, and that
our previous judgment is required to supple-
ment it. For it is not possible so to sever the
belief from the action it suggests as to con-
demn the one without condemning the other.
No man holding a strong belief on one side of
a question, or even wishing to hold a belief on
one side, can investigate it with such fairness
and completeness as if he were really in doubt
and unbiassed; so that the existence of a belief
not founded on fair inquiry unfits a man for
the performance of this necessary duty.
Nor is that truly a belief at all which has
not some influence upon the actions of him
who holds it. He who truly believes that
which prompts him to an action has looked
upon the action to lust after it, he has com-
mitted it already in his heart. If a belief is
not realised immediately in open deeds, it is
stored up for the guidance of the future. It
goes to make a part of that aggregate of beliefs
which is the link between sensation and action
at every moment of all our lives, and which is
so organised and compacted together that no
part of it can be isolated from the rest, but
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
169
every new addition modifies the structure of the
whole. No real belief, however trifling and
fragmentary it may seem, is ever truly insig-
nificant; it prepares us to receive more of its
like, confirms those which resembled it before,
and weakens others; and so gradually it lays
a stealthy train in our inmost thoughts, which
may some day explode into overt action, and
leave its stamp upon our character for ever.
And no one man's belief is in any case a
private matter which concerns himself alone.
Our lives are guided by that general conception
of the course of things which has been created {
by society for social purposes. Our words, our **
phrases, our forms and processes and modes
of thought, are common property, fashioned and
perfected from age to age ; an heirloom which
every succeeding generation inherits as a pre-
cious deposit and a sacred trust to be handed /
on to the next one, not unchanged but enlarged
and purified, with some clear marks of its
proper handiwork. Into this, for good or ill,
is woven every belief of every man who has
speech of his fellows. An awful privilege, and
an awful responsibility, that we should help to
create the world in which posterity will live.
In the two supposed cases which have been
considered, it has been judged wrong to believe
on insufficient evidence, or to nourish belief by
suppressing doubts and avoiding investigation.
170
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
The reason of this judgment is not far to seek :
it is that in both these cases the belief held by
one man was of great importance to other men.
But forasmuch as no belief held by one man,
however seemingly trivial the belief, and how-
ever obscure the believer, is ever actually in-
significant or without its effect on the fate of
mankind, we have no choice but to extend
our judgment to all cases of belief whatever.
Belief, that sacred faculty which prompts the
decisions of our will, and knits into harmonious
working all the compacted energies of our
being, is ours not for ourselves, but for humanity.
It is rightly used on truths which have been
established by long experience and waiting toil,
and which have stood in the fierce light of free
and fearless questioning. Then it helps to
bind men together, and to strengthen and direct
their common action. It is desecrated when
given to unproved and unquestioned statements,
for the solace and private pleasure of the be-
liever ; to add a tinsel splendour to the plain
straight road of our life and display a bright
mirage beyond it ; or even to drown the
common sorrows of our kind by a self-decep-
tion which allows them not only to cast down,
but also to degrade us. Whoso would deserve
well of his fellows in this matter will guard the
purity of his belief with a very fanaticism of
jealous care, lest at any time it should rest on
-
--
-
.
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
171
an unworthy object, and catch a stain which
can never be wiped away.
It is not only the leader of men, statesman,
philosopher, or poet, that owes this bounden
duty to mankind. Every rustic who delivers
in the village alehouse his slow, infrequent
sentences, may help to kill or keep. alive the
fatal superstitions which clog his race. Every
hard-worked wife of an artisan may transmit to
her children beliefs which shall knit society
together, or rend it in pieces. No simplicity
of mind, no obscurity of station, can escape
the universal duty of questioning all that we
believe.
It is true that this duty is a hard one, and
the doubt which comes out of it is often a very
bitter thing. It leaves us bare and powerless
where we thought that we were safe and strong.
To know all about anything is to know how to
deal with it under all circumstances. We feel
much happier and more secure when we think
we know precisely what to do, no matter what
happens, than when we have lost our way and
do not know where to turn. And if we have
and to be capable of doing what is fit in regard
to it, we naturally do not like to find that we
are really ignorant and powerless, that we have
what the thing is and how it is to be dealt with
172
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
-if indeed anything can be learnt about it..
It is the sense of power attached to a sense
of knowledge that makes men desirous of
believing, and afraid of doubting,
- This sense of power is the highest and best
of pleasures when the belief on which it is
founded is a true belief, and has been fairly
earned by investigation. For then we may
justly feel that it is common property, and
holds good for others as well as for ourselves.
Then we may be glad, not that I have learned
secrets by which I am safer and stronger, but
that we men have got mastery over more of the
world; and we shall be strong, not for our-
selves, but in the name of Man and in his
strength. But if the belief has been accepted
on insufficient evidence, the pleasure is a stolen
one. Not only does it deceive ourselves by
giving us a sense of power which we do not
really possess, but it is sinful, because it is
stolen in defiance of our duty to mankind.
That duty is to guard ourselves from such
beliefs as from a pestilence, which may shortly
master our own body and then spread to the
rest of the town. What would be thought of
one who, for the sake of a sweet fruit, should
deliberately run the risk of bringing a plague
upon his family and his neighbours ?
And, as in other such cases, it is not the
risk only which has to be considered ; for a
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
173
bad action is always bad at the time when it is
done, no matter what happens afterwards.
Every time we let ourselves believe for un-
worthy reasons, we weaken our powers of self-
control, of doubting, of judicially and fairly
weighing evidence. We all suffer severely
enough from the maintenance and support of
false beliefs and the fatally wrong actions which
they lead to; and the evil born when one such
belief is entertained is great and wide. But a
greater and wider evil arises when the credulous
character is maintained and supported, when a
habit of believing for unworthy reasons is
fostered and made permanent. If I steal
money from any person, there may be no harm
done by the mere transfer of possession; he
may not feel the loss, or it may prevent him
from using the money badly. But I cannot
help doing this great wrong towards Man, that
I make myself dishonest. What hurts society
is not that it should lose its property, but that
it should become a den of thieves; for then it
must cease to be society. This is why we
ought not to do evil that good may come ; for
at any rate this great evil has come, that we
have done evil and are made wicked thereby.
In like manner, if I let myself believe anything
on insufficient evidence, there may be no great
harm done by the mere belief; it may be true
after all, or I may never have occasion to
174
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
exhibit it in outward acts. But I cannot help
doing this great wrong towards Man, that I
make myself credulous. The danger to society
is not merely that it should believe wrong
things, though that is great enough; but that
it should become credulous, and lose the habit
of testing things and inquiring into them; for
The harm which is done by credulity in a
man is not confined to the fostering of a
credulous character in others, and consequent
support of false beliefs. Habitual want of care
about what I believe leads to habitual want of
care in others about the truth of what is told
to me. Men speak the truth to one another
when each reveres the truth in his own mind
friend revere the truth in my mind when I
myself am careless about it, when I believe
things because I want to believe them, and
because they are comforting and pleasant ?
Will he not learn to cry, “Peace," to me, when
there is no peace? By such a course I shall
surround myself with a thick atmosphere of
falsehood and fraud, and in that I must live.
It may matter little to me, in my cloud-castle
of sweet illusions and darling lies; but it
matters much to Man that I have made my
neighbours ready to deceive. The credulous
man is father to the liar and the cheat; he
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
175
lives in the bosom of this his family, and it is
no marvel if he should become even as they
are. So closely are our duties knit together,
that whoso shall keep the whole law, and yet
offend in one point, he is guilty of all.
To sum up: it is wrong always, everywhere,
and for any one, to believe anything upon
insufficient evidence.
If a man, holding a belief which he was
taught in childhood or persuaded of afterwards,
keeps down and pushes away any doubts which
arise about it in his mind, purposely avoids the
reading of books and the company of men that
call in question or discuss it, and regards as
impious those questions which cannot easily be
asked without disturbing it the life of that
man is one long sin against mankind.
If this judgment seems harsh when applied
to those simple souls who have never known
better, who have been brought up from the
cradle with a horror of doubt, and taught that
their eternal welfare depends on what they
believe, then it leads to the very serious
question, Who hath made Israel to sin ?
It may be permitted me to fortify this
judgment with the sentence of Milton ?
"A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if
he believe things only because his pastor says so,
or the assembly so determine, without knowing
1 Areopagitica,
A
176
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
other reason, though his belief be true, yet the
very truth he holds becomes his heresy."
And with this famous aphorism of Cole-
ridge 1
“He who begins by loving Christianity
better than Truth, will proceed by loving his
own sect or Church better than Christianity,
and end in loving himself better than all."
Inquiry into the evidence of a doctrine is
not to be made once for all, and then taken as
finally settled. It is never lawful to stifle à
doubt; for either it can be honestly answered
by means of the inquiry already made, or else
it proves that the inquiry was not complete.
“But,” says one, “I am a busy man; I
have no time for the long course of study which
would be necessary to make me in any degree
a competent judge of certain questions, or even
able to understand the nature of the arguments."
Then he should have no time to believe.
_
II.—THE WEIGHT OF AUTHORITY
Are we then to become universal sceptics,
doubting everything, afraid always to put one
foot before the other until we have personally
tested the firmness of the road? Are we to de-
prive ourselves of the help and guidance of that
vast body of knowledge which is daily growing
1 Aids to Reflection.
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
177
upon the world, because neither we nor any other
one person can possibly test a hundredth part
of it by immediate experiment or observation,
and because it would not be completely proved if
we did ? Shall we steal and tell lies because we
have had no personal experience wide enough
to justify the belief that it is wrong to do so ?
There is no practical danger that such
consequences will ever follow from scrupulous
care and self-control in the matter of belief.
Those men who have most nearly done their
duty in this respect have found that certain
great principles, and these most fitted for the
guidance of life, have stood out more and more
clearly in proportion to the care and honesty
with which they were tested, and have acquired
in this way a practical certainty. The beliefs
about right and wrong which guide our actions
in dealing with men in society, and the beliefs
about physical nature which guide our actions
in dealing with animate and inanimate bodies,
these never suffer from investigation; they can
take care of themselves, without being propped
up by “acts of faith," the clamour of paid
advocates, or the suppression of contrary
evidence. Moreover there are many cases in
which it is our duty to act upon probabilities,
although the evidence is not such as to justify
present belief; because it is precisely by such
action, and by observation of its fruits, that
VOL. II
-
178
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
evidence is got which may justify future belief.
So that we have no reason to fear lest a habit
of conscientious inquiry should paralyse the
actions of our daily life.
But because it is not enough to say, " It is
wrong to believe on unworthy evidence," with-
out saying also what evidence is worthy, we
shall now go on to inquire under what circum-
stances it is lawful to believe on the testimony
of others; and then, further, we shall inquire
more generally when and why we may believe
that which goes beyond our own experience, or
even beyond the experience of mankind.
In what cases, then, let us ask in the first
place, is the testimony of a man unworthy of
belief ? He may say that which is untrue
either knowingly or unknowingly. In the first
case he is lying, and his moral character is to
blame; in the second case he is ignorant or
mistaken, and it is only his knowledge or his
judgment which is in fault. In order that we
may have the right to accept his testimony as
ground for believing what he says, we must
have reasonable grounds for trusting his veracity,
that he is really trying to speak the truth so far
as he knows it'; his knowledge, that he has had
opportunities of knowing the truth about this
matter; and his judgment, that he has made
proper use of those opportunities in coming to
the conclusion which he affirms.
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
179
However plain and obvious these reasons
may be, so that no man of ordinary intelligence,
reflecting upon the matter, could fail to arrive
at them, it is nevertheless true that a great
many persons do habitually disregard them in
weighing testimony. Of the two questions,
equally important to the trustworthiness of a
witness, “Is he dishonest?” and “May he be
mistaken ?” the majority of mankind are per-
fectly satisfied if one can, with some show of
probability, be answered in the negative. The
excellent moral character of a man is alleged
as ground for accepting his statements about
things which he cannot possibly have known.
A Mohammedan, for example, will tell us that
the character of his Prophet was so noble and
majestic that it commands the reverence even
of those who do not believe in his mission. So
admirable was his moral teaching, so wisely put
together the great social machine which he
created, that his precepts have not only been
accepted by a great portion of mankind, but
have on the one hand rescued the negro from
savagery, and on the other hand have taught
civilisation to the advancing West; and
although the races which held the highest
forms of his faith, and most fully embodied his
mind and thought, have all been conquered
and swept away by barbaric tribes, yet the
180
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
history of their marvellous attainments remains
as an imperishable glory to Islam. Are we to
doubt the word of a man so great and so good ?
Can we suppose that this magnificent genius,
this splendid moral hero, has lied to us about
the most solemn and sacred matters ? The
testimony of Mohammed is clear, that there is
but one God, and that he, Mohammed, is his
Prophet ; that if we believe in him we shall
enjoy everlasting felicity, but that if we do not
we shall be damned. This testimony rests on
the most awful of foundations, the revelation of
heaven itself; for was he not visited by the
angel Gabriel, as he fasted and prayed in his
desert cave, and allowed to enter into the
blessed fields of Paradise ? Surely God is God
and Mohammed is the Prophet of God.
What should we answer to this Mussulman?
First, no doubt, we should be tempted to take
exception against his view of the character of
the Prophet and the uniformly beneficial in-
fluence of Islam : before we could go with him
altogether in these matters it might seem that
we should have to forget many terrible things
of which we have heard or read. But if we
chose to grant him all these assumptions, for
the sake of argument, and because it is difficult
both for the faithful and for infidels to discuss
them fairly and without passion, still we should
have something to say which takes away the
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
181
ground of his belief, and therefore shows that
it is wrong to entertain it. Namely this: the
character of Mohammed is excellent evidence
that he was honest and spoke the truth so far
as he knew it; but it is no evidence at all that
he knew what the truth was. What means
could he have of knowing that the form which
appeared to him to be the angel Gabriel was
not a hallucination, and that his apparent visit
to Paradise was not a dream? Grant that he
himself was fully persuaded and honestly.
believed that he had the guidance of heaven,
and was the vehicle of a supernatural revelation,
how could he know that this strong conviction
was not a mistake? Let us put ourselves in his
place; we shall find that the more completely
we endeavour to realise what passed through
his mind, the more clearly we shall perceive
that the Prophet could have had no adequate
ground for the belief in his own inspiration.
It is most probable that he himself never
doubted of the matter, or thought of asking the
question ; but we are in the position of those
to whom the question has been asked, and who
are bound to answer it. It is known to
medical observers that solitude and want of
food are powerful means of producing delusion
and of fostering a tendency to mental disease.
Let us suppose, then, that I, like Mohammed,
go into desert places to fast and pray; what
182
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
things can happen to me which will give me
Suppose that I get information, apparently
from a celestial visitor, which upon being
tested is found to be correct. I cannot be
sure, in the first place, that the celestial visitor
is not a figment of my own mind, and that the
information did not come to me, unknown at
the time to my consciousness, through some
subtle channel of sense. But if my visitor were
a real visitor, and for a long time gave me
information which was found to be trustworthy,
this would indeed be good ground for trusting
him in the future as to such matters as fall
within human powers of verification ; but it
would not be ground for trusting his testimony
as to any other matters. For although his
tested character would justify me in believing
the same question would present itself-what
ground is there for supposing that he knows?
Even if my supposed visitor had given me
such information, subsequently verified by me,
as proved him to have means of knowledge
about verifiable matters far exceeding my own ;
this would not justify me in believing what he
capable of verification by man. It would be
ground for interesting conjecture, and for the
hope that, as the fruit of our patient inquiry,
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
183
we might by and by attain to such a means of
verification as should rightly turn conjecture
into belief. For belief belongs to man, and to
the guidance of human affairs : no belief is real
unless it guide our actions, and those very
actions supply a test of its truth.
But, it may be replied, the acceptance of
Islam as a system is just that action which is
prompted by belief in the mission of the
Prophet, and which will serve for a test of its
truth. Is it possible to believe that a system
which has succeeded so well is really founded
upon a delusion ? Not only have individual
saints found joy and peace in believing, and
verified those spiritual experiences which are
promised to the faithful, but nations also have
been raised from savagery or barbarism to a
higher social state. Surely we are at liberty to
say that the belief has been acted upon, and
that it has been verified.
It requires, however, but little consideration
to show that what has really been verified is
not at all the supernal character of the Prophet's
mission, or the trustworthiness of his authority
in matters which we ourselves cannot test, but
only his practical wisdom in certain very
mundane things. The fact that believers have
found joy and peace in believing gives us the
right to say that the doctrine is a comfortable
doctrine, and pleasant to the soul ; but it does
.
184
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
/not give us the right to say that it is true.
And the question which our conscience is
always asking about that which we are tempted
to believe is not, "Is it comfortable and
pleasant?" but, “Is it true?” That the
Prophet preached certain doctrines, and pre-
dicted that spiritual comfort would be found in
them, proves only his sympathy with human
nature and his knowledge of it; but it does not
prove his superhuman knowledge of theology.
And if we admit for the sake of argument
(for it seems that we cannot do more) that the
progress made by Moslem nations in certain
cases was really due to the system formed and
sent forth into the world by Mohammed, we
are not at liberty to conclude from this that he
was inspired to declare the truth about things
which we cannot verify. We are only at liberty
to infer the excellence of his moral precepts, or
of the means which he devised for so working
upon men so as to get them obeyed, or of the
social and political machinery which he set up.
And it would require a great amount of careful
examination into the history of those nations
to determine which of these things had the
greater share in the result. So that here again
it is the Prophet's knowledge of human nature,
and his sympathy with it, that are verified ; not
his divine inspiration or his knowledge of
theology.
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
185
If there were only one Prophet, indeed, it
might well seem a difficult and even an un-
gracious task to decide upon what points we
would trust him, and on what we would doubt
his authority ; seeing what help and furtherance
all men have gained in all ages from those who
saw more clearly, who felt more strongly, and
who sought the truth with more single heart
than their weaker brethren. But there is not
only one Prophet; and while the consent of
many upon that which, as men, they had real
means of knowing and did know, has endured
to the end, and been honourably built into the
great fabric of human knowledge, the diverse
witness of some about that which they did not
and could not know remains as a warning to
us that to exaggerate the prophetic authority is
to misuse it, and to dishonour those who have
sought only to help and further us after their
power. It is hardly in human nature that a
man should quite accurately gauge the limits
of his own insight; but it is the duty of those
who profit by his work to consider carefully
where he may have been carried beyond it. If
we must needs embalm his possible errors
along with his solid achievements, and use his
authority as an excuse for believing what he
cannot have known, we make of his goodness
an occasion to sin.
To consider only one other such witness :
UI
186
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
the followers of the Buddha have at least as
much right to appeal to individual and social
experience in support of the authority of the
Eastern saviour. The special mark of his
religion, it is said, that in which it has never
been surpassed, is the comfort and consolation
which it gives to the sick and sorrowful, the
tender sympathy with which it soothes and
assuages all the natural griefs of men. And
surely no triumph of social morality can be
greater or nobler than that which has kept
nearly half the human race from persecuting in
the name of religion. If we are to trust the
accounts of his early followers, he believed
himself to have come upon earth with a divine
and cosmic mission to set rolling the wheel of
the law. Being a prince, he divested himself
of his kingdom, and of his free will became
acquainted with misery, that he might learn
how to meet and subdue it. Could such a man
speak falsely about solemn things ? And as for
his knowledge, was he not a man miraculous
with powers more than man's ? He was born
of woman without the help of man; he rose
into the air and was transfigured before his
kinsmen; at last he went up bodily into
heaven from the top of Adam's Peak. Is not
his word to be believed in when he testifies of
heavenly things ?
If there were only he, and no other, with
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
187
such claims! But there is Mohammed with his
testimony; we cannot choose but listen to
them both. The Prophet tells us that there is
one God, and that we shall live for ever in joy
or misery, according as we believe in the
Prophet or not. The Buddha says that there
is no God, and that we shall be annihilated by
and by if we are good enough. Both cannot
be infallibly inspired ; one or other must have
been the victim of a delusion, and thought he
knew that which he really did not know. Who
shall dare to say which ? and how can we
justify ourselves in believing that the other was
not also deluded ?
We are led, then, to these judgments
following. The goodness and greatness of a
man do not justify us in accepting a belief
upon the warrant of his authority, unless there
are reasonable grounds for supposing that he
knew the truth of what he was saying. And
there can be no grounds for supposing that a
man knows that which we, without ceasing to
be men, could not be supposed to verify.
If a chemist tells me, who am no chemist,
that a certain substance can be made by putting
together other substances in certain proportions
and subjecting them to a known process, I am
quite justified in believing this upon his
authority, unless I know anything against his
character or his judgment. For his professional
188
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
training is one which tends to encourage
veracity and the honest pursuit of truth, and
to produce a dislike of hasty conclusions and
slovenly investigation. And I have reasonable
ground for supposing that he knows the truth
of what he is saying, for although I am no
chemist, I can be made to understand so much
of the methods and processes of the science as
makes it conceivable to me that, without ceasing
to be man, I might verify the statement. I
may never actually verify it, or even see any
experiment which goes towards verifying it;
but still I have quite reason enough to justify
me in believing that the verification is within
the reach of human appliances and powers, and
in particular that it has been actually performed
by my informant. His result, the belief to
which he has been led by his inquiries, is valid
not only for himself but for others; it is
watched and tested by those who are working
in the same ground, and who know that no
greater service can be rendered to science than
the purification of accepted results from the
errors which may have crept into them. It is
in this way that the result becomes common
property, a right object of belief, which is a
social affair and matter of public business.
Thus it is to be observed that his authority is
valid because there are those who question it
and verify it ; that it is precisely this process of
1
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
189
examining and purifying that keeps alive among
investigators the love of that which shall stand
all possible tests, the sense of public responsi-
bility as of those whose work, if well done, shall
remain as the enduring heritage of mankind.
But if my chemist tells me that an atom of
oxygen has existed unaltered in weight and
rate of vibration throughout all time I have no
right to believe this on his authority, for it is a
thing which he cannot know without ceasing to
be man. He may quite honestly believe that
this statement is a fair inference from his
experiments, but in that case his judgment is
at fault. A very simple consideration of the
character of experiments would show him that
they never can lead to results of such a kind ;
that being themselves only approximate and
limited, they cannot give us knowledge which
is exact and universal. No eminence of 4
character and genius can give a man authority
enough to justify us in believing him when he
makes statements implying exact or universal
knowledge.
Again, an Arctic explorer may tell us that
in a given latitude and longitude he has
experienced such and such a degree of cold,
that the sea was of such a depth, and the ice
of such a character. We should be quite right
to believe him, in the absence of any stain
upon his veracity. It is conceivable that we
190
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
might, without ceasing to be men, go there and
verify his statement; it can be tested by the
witness of his companions, and there is adequate
ground for supposing that he knows the truth
of what he is saying. But if an old whaler
tells us that the ice is 300 feet thick all the
way up to the Pole, we shall not be justified in
believing him. For although the statement
may be capable of verification by man, it is
certainly not capable of verification by him,
with any means and appliances which he has
possessed ; and he must have persuaded himself
of the truth of it by some means which does
not attach any credit to his testimony. Even
if, therefore, the matter affirmed is within the
reach of human knowledge, we have no right to
accept it upon authority unless it is within the
reach of our informant's knowledge.
What shall we say of that authority, more
venerable and august than any individual wit-
ness, the time-honoured tradition of the human
race ? K'An atmosphere of beliefs and concep-
tions has been formed by the labours and
struggles of our forefathers, which enables us
to breathe amid the various and complex cir-
cumstances of our life. It is around and about
us and within us; we cannot think except in
the forms and processes of thought which it
supplies. Is it possible to doubt and to test
it? and if possible, is it right?

THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
191
We shall find reason to answer that it is
not only possible and right, but our bounden
duty ; that the main purpose of the tradition
itself is to supply us with the means of asking
questions, of testing and inquiring into things ;)
that if we misuse it, and take it as a collection of
cut-and-dried statements to be accepted without
further inquiry, we are not only injuring our-
selves here, but, by refusing to do our part
towards the building up of the fabric which
shall be inherited by our children, we are tend-
ing to cut off ourselves and our race from the
human line.
Let us first take care to distinguish a kind
of tradition which especially requires to be
examined and called in question, because it
especially shrinks from inquiry. Suppose that
a medicine-man in Central Africa tells his tribe
that a certain powerful medicine in his tent will
be propitiated if they kill their cattle, and that
the tribe believe him. Whether the medicine was
propitiated or not there are no means of verify-
ing, but the cattle are gone. Still the belief
may be kept up in the tribe that propitiation
has been effected in this way; and in a later
generation it will be all the easier for another
medicine-man to persuade them to a similar
act. Here the only reason for belief is that
everybody has believed the thing for so long
that it must be true. And yet the belief was
192
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
founded on fraud, and has been propagated by
credulity. That man will undoubtedly do right,
and be a friend of men, who shall call it in
question and see that_there is no evidence for
it, help his neighbours to see as he does, and
even, if need be, go into the holy tent and
break the medicine.
The rule which should guide us in such
cases is simple and obvious enough: that the
aggregate testimony of our neighbours is sub-
ject to the same conditions as the testimony of
any one of them. Namely, we have no right to
believe a thing true because everybody says so
unless there are good grounds for believing
that some one person at least has the means of
knowing what is true, and is speaking the truth
so far as he knows it. However many nations
and generations of men are brought into the
witness-box they cannot testify to anything
which they do not know. Every man who has
accepted the statement from somebody else,
without himself testing and verifying it, is out
of court; his word is worth nothing at all.
And when we get back at last to the true birth
and beginning of the statement, two serious
questions must be disposed of in regard to him
who first made it: was he mistaken in think-
ing that he knew about this matter, or was he
lying ?
This last question is unfortunately a very
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
193
actual and practical one even to us at this day
and in this country. We have no occasion to
go to La Salette, or to Central Africa, or to
Lourdes, for examples of immoral and debasing
superstition. It is only too possible for a
child to grow up in London surrounded by an
atmosphere of beliefs fit only for the savage,
which have in our own time been founded in
fraud and propagated by credulity.
Laying aside, then, such tradition as is
handed on without testing by successive genera-
tions, let us consider that which is truly built
up out of the common experience of mankind.
This great fabric is for the guidance of our
thoughts, and through them of our actions,
both in the moral and in the material world.
In the moral world, for example, it gives us
the conceptions of right in general, of justice,
of truth, of beneficence, and the like. These
are given as conceptions, not as statements or
propositions; they answer to certain definite
instincts which are certainly within us, however
they came there. That it is right to be benefi-
cent is matter of immediate personal experi-
ence; for when a man retires within himself
and there finds something, wider and more
lasting than his solitary personality, which says,
“I want to do right," as well as, “ I want to do
good to man," he can verify by direct observa-
tion that one instinct is founded upon and
VOL. II
194
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
agrees fully with the other. And it is his duty
so to verify this and all similar statements.
The tradition says also, at a definite place
and time, that such and such actions are just,
or true, or beneficent. For all such rules a
further inquiry is necessary, since they are
sometimes established by an authority other
than that of the moral sense founded on ex-
perience. Until recently, the moral tradition of
our own country—and indeed of all Europe
taught that it was beneficent to give money
indiscriminately to beggars. But the question-
ing of this rule, and investigation into it, led
men to see that true beneficence is that which
helps a man to do the work which he is most
fitted for, not that which keeps and encourages
him in idleness; and that to neglect this dis-
tinction in the present is to prepare pauperism
and misery for the future. By this testing and
discussion not only has practice been purified
and made more beneficent, but the very con-
ception of beneficence has been made wider
and wiser. Now here the great social heir-
loom consists of two parts: the instinct of
beneficence, which makes a certain side of our
nature, when predominant, wish to do good to
men ; and the intellectual conception of benefi-
cence, which we can compare with any pro-
posed course of conduct and ask, “Is this
beneficent or not ?" By the continual asking
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
195
and answering of such questions the conception
grows in breadth and distinctness, and the
instinct becomes strengthened and purified. It
appears, then, that the great use of the con-
ception, the intellectual part of the heirloom, is
to enable us to ask questions; that it grows
and is kept straight by means of these ques-
tions; and if we do not use it for that purpose
we shall gradually lose it altogether, and be
left with a mere code of regulations which
cannot rightly be called morality at all.
Such considerations apply even more ob-
viously and clearly, if possible, to the store of
beliefs and conceptions which our fathers have
amassed for us in respect of the material world.
We are ready to laugh at the rule of thumb of
the Australian who continues to tie his hatchet
to the side of the handle, although the Bir-
mingham fitter has made a hole on purpose for
him to put the handle in. His people have
tied up hatchets so for ages : who is he that
he should set himself up against their wisdom ?
He has sunk so low that he cannot do what
some of them must have done in the far distant
past-call in question an established usage, and
invent or learn something better. Yet here, in
the dim beginning of knowledge, where science
and art are one, we find only the same simple
rule which applies to the highest and deepest
growths of that cosmic Tree; to its loftiest
196
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
flower-tipped branches as well as to the pro-
foundest of its hidden roots; the rule, namely,
that what is stored up and handed down to us
is rightly used by those who act as the makers
acted, when they stored it up; those who use
it to ask further questions, to examine, to
investigate ; who try honestly and solemnly to
find out what is the right way of looking at
things and of dealing with them.
A question rightly asked is already half
answered, said Jacobi; we may add that the
method of solution is the other half of the
answer, and that the actual result counts for
nothing by the side of these two. For an ex-
ample let us go to the telegraph, where theory
and practice, grown each to years of discretion,
men. Ohm found that the strength of an electric
current is directly proportional to the strength of
the battery which produces it, and inversely as
the length of the wire along which it has to
travel. This is called Ohm's law; but the result,
regarded as a statement to be believed, is not
the valuable part of it. The first half is the
question : what relation holds good between
these quantities ? So put, the question involves
already the conception of strength of current,
and of strength of battery, as quantities to be
measured and compared ; it hints clearly that
these are the things to be attended to in the
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
197
study of electric currents. The second half is
the method of investigation ; how to measure
these quantities, what instruments are required
for the experiment, and how are they to be
used? The student who begins to learn about
electricity is not asked to believe in Ohm's law :
he is made to understand the question, he is
placed before the apparatus, and he is taught
to verify it. He learns to do things, not to
think he knows things; to use instruments and
to ask questions, not to accept a traditional
statement. The question which required a
genius to ask it rightly is answered by a tiro.
If Ohm's law were suddenly lost and forgotten
by all men, while the question and the method
of solution remained, the result could be re-
discovered in an hour. But the result by itself,
if known to a people who could not comprehend
the value of the question or the means of solv-
ing it, would be like a watch in the hands of a
sayage who could not wind it up, or an iron
steamship worked by Spanish engineers.
In regard, then, to the sacred tradition of
humanity, we learn that it consists, not in pro-
positions or statements which are to be accepted
and believed on the authority of the tradition,
but in questions rightly asked, in conceptions
which enable us to ask further questions, and
in methods of answering questions. The value
of all these things depends on their being tested
198
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
day by day. The very sacredness of the
precious deposit imposes upon us the duty and
the responsibility of testing it, of purifying and
enlarging it to the utmost of our power. He
who makes use of its results to stifle his own
doubts, or to hamper the inquiry of others, is
guilty of a sacrilege which centuries shall never
be able to blot out. When the labours and
questionings of honest and brave men shall
have built up the fabric of known truth to a
glory which we in this generation can neither
hope for nor imagine, in that pure and holy
temple he shall have no part nor lot, but his
name and his works shall be cast out into the
darkness of oblivion for ever.
III.-THE LIMITS OF INFERENCE
The question in what cases we may believe
that which goes beyond our experience, is a
very large and delicate one, extending to the
whole range of scientific method, and requiring
a considerable increase in the application of
it before it can be answered with anything
approaching to completeness. But one rule,
lying on the threshold of the subject, of extreme
simplicity and vast practical importance, may
here be touched upon and shortly laid down.
A little reflection will show us that every i
belief, even the simplest and most fundamental,
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
199
goes beyond experience when regarded as a
guide to our actions. A burnt child dreads
the fire, because it believes that the fire will
burn it to-day just as it did yesterday ; but
this belief goes beyond experience, and assumes
that the unknown fire of to-day is like the
known fire of yesterday. Even the belief that
the child was burnt yesterday goes beyond
present experience, which contains only the
memory of a burning, and not the burning
itself; it assumes, therefore, that this memory
is trustworthy, although we know that a
memory may often be mistaken. But if it is
to be used as a guide to action, as a hint of
what the future is to be, it must assume some-
thing about that future, namely, that it will be
consistent with the supposition that the burning
really took place yesterday; which is going
beyond experience. Even the fundamental “I
am,” which cannot be doubted, is no guide to
action until it takes to itself “ I shall be," which
goes beyond experience. The question is not,
therefore, “May we believe what goes beyond
experience ?" for this is involved in the very
nature of belief; but “How far and in what
manner may we add to our experience in/
forming our beliefs ?"
And an answer, of utter simplicity and
universality, is suggested by the example we
have taken: a burnt child dreads the fire. We
ved in th beyond
“How
200
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
may go beyond experience by assuming that
what we do not know is like what we do know;
or, in other words, we may add to our experience
on the assumption of a uniformity in nature.
What this uniformity precisely is, how we grow
in the knowledge of it from generation to
generation, these are questions which for the
present we lay aside, being content to examine
two instances which may serve to make plainer
the nature of the rule.
From certain observations made with the
spectroscope, we infer the existence of hydrogen
in the sun. By looking into the spectroscope
when the sun is shining on its slit, we see
certain definite bright lines : and experiments
made upon bodies on the earth have taught us
that when these bright lines are seen hydrogen
is the source of them. We assume, then, that
the unknown bright lines in the sun are like the
known bright lines of the laboratory, and that
hydrogen in the sun behaves as hydrogen under
similar circumstances would behave on the earth.
But are we not trusting our spectroscope
too much? Surely, having found it to be
trustworthy for terrestrial substances, where its
statements can be verified by man, we are
justified in accepting its testimony in other like
cases; but not when it gives us information
about things in the sun, where its testimony
cannot be directly verified by man?
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
201
Certainly, we want to know a little more
before this inference can be justified ; and
fortunately we do know this. The spectroscope
testifies to exactly the same thing in the two
cases ; namely, that light-vibrations of a certain
rate are being sent through it. Its construction
is such that if it were wrong about this in one
case, it would be wrong in the other. When
we come to look into the matter, we find that
we have really assumed the matter of the sun
to be like the matter of the earth, made up of
a certain number of distinct substances; and
that each of these, when very hot, has a distinct
rate of vibration, by which it may be recognised
and singled out from the rest. But this is the
kind of assumption which we are justified in
using when we add to our experience. It is
an assumption of uniformity in nature, and can
only be checked by comparison with many
similar assumptions which we have to make in
other such cases.
But is this a true belief, of the existence of
hydrogen in the sun ? Can it help in the
right guidance of human action ?
Certainly not, if it is accepted on unworthy
grounds, and without some understanding of
the process by which it is got at. But when
this process is taken in as the ground of the
belief, it becomes a very serious and practical
matter. For if there is no hydrogen in the
202
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
sun, the spectroscope -- that is to say, the
measurement of rates of vibration-must be an
uncertain guide in recognising different sub-
stances; and consequently it ought not to be
used in chemical analysis --- in assaying, for
example-to the great saving of time, trouble,
and money. Whereas the acceptance of the
spectroscopic method as trustworthy has en-
riched us not only with new metals, which is a
great thing, but with new processes of investiga-
tion, which is vastly greater.
For another example, let us consider the
way in which we infer the truth of an historical
event — say the siege of Syracuse in the
Peloponnesian war. Our experience is that
manuscripts exist which are said to be and
which call themselves manuscripts of the history
of Thucydides ; that in other manuscripts,
stated to be by later historians, he is described
as living during the time of the war; and that
books, supposed to date from the revival of
learning, tell us how these manuscripts had
been preserved and were then acquired. We
find also that men do not, as a rule, forge books
and histories without a special motive; we
assume that in this respect men in the past
were like men in the present; and we observe
that in this case no special motive was present.
That is, we add to our experience on the
assumption of a uniformity in the characters of
11
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
203
men. Because our knowledge of this uniformity
is far less complete and exact than our know-
ledge of that which obtains in physics, inferences
of the historical kind are more precarious and
less exact than inferences in many other
sciences.
But if there is any special reason to suspect
the character of the persons who wrote or
transmitted certain books, the case becomes
altered. If a group of documents give internal
evidence that they were produced among people
who forged books in the names of others, and
who, in describing events, suppressed those
things which did not suit them, while they
amplified such as did suit them; who not only
committed these crimes, but gloried in them as
proofs of humility and zeal ; then we must say
that upon such documents no true historical
inference can be founded, but only unsatisfactory
conjecture.
We may, then, add to our experience on
the assumption of a uniformity in nature ; we
may fill in our picture of what is and has been,
as experience gives it us, in such a way as to
make the whole consistent with this uniformity.
And practically demonstrative inference--that
which gives us a right to believe in the result
of it - is a clear showing that in no other
way than by the truth of this result can the
uniformity of nature be saved.
204
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
, No evidence, therefore, can justify us in
believing the truth of a statement which is
contrary to, or outside of, the uniformity of
\nature. If our experience is such that it
cannot be filled up consistently with uniformity,
all we have a right to conclude is that there is
something wrong somewhere; but the possibility
of inference is taken away; we must rest in
our experience, and not go beyond it at all. If
an event really happened which was not a part
of the uniformity of nature, it would have two
properties : no evidence could give the right
to believe it to any except those whose actual
experience it was; and no inference worthy of
belief could be founded upon it at all.
Are we then bound to believe that nature is
absolutely and universally uniform ? Certainly
not; we have no right to believe anything of
this kind. The rule only tells us that in
forming beliefs which go beyond our experience,
we may make the assumption that nature is
practically uniform so far as we are concerned.
Within the range of human action and verifica-
tion, we may form, by help of this assumption,
actual beliefs ; beyond it, only those hypotheses
which serve for the more accurate asking of
questions.
To sum up :-
1. We may believe what goes beyond our
experience, only when it is inferred from that
THE ETHICS OF BELIEF
205
experience by the assumption that what we
do not know is like what we know.
. 2. We may believe the statement of another
person, when there is reasonable ground for
supposing that he knows the matter of which
he speaks, and that he is speaking the truth so
far as he knows it.
3. It is wrong in all cases to believe on in-
sufficient evidence; and where it is presumption
to doubt and to investigate, there it is worse
than presumption to believe.
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 1
THE word religion is used in many different
meanings, and there have been not a few con-
troversies in which the main difference between
the contending parties was only this, that they
understood by religion two different things. I
will therefore begin by setting forth as clearly
as I can one or two of the meanings which the
word appears to have in popular speech.
First, then, it may mean a body of doctrines,
as in the common phrase, “The truth of the
Christian religion”; or in this sentence, “The
religion of the Buddha teaches that the soul
is not a distinct substance,” Opinions differ
upon the question what doctrines may properly
be called religious; some people holding that
there can be no religion without belief in a
God and in a future life, so that in their
judgment the body of doctrines must necessarily
include these two; while others would insist
upon other special dogmas being included,
before they could consent to call the system by
? Fortnightly Review, July 1877.
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
207
this name. But the number of such people is
daily diminishing, by reason of the spread and
the increase of our knowledge about distant
countries and races. To me, indeed, it would
seem rash to assert of any doctrine or its
contrary that it might not form part of a
religion. But, fortunately, it is not necessary
to any part of the discussion on which I
propose to enter that this question should be
settled.
Secondly, religion may mean a ceremonial
or cult, involving an organised priesthood and
a machinery of sacred things and places. In
this sense we speak of the clergy as ministers
of religion, or of a state as tolerating the
practice of certain religions. There is a some-
what wider meaning which it will be convenient
to consider together with this one, and as a
mere extension of it, namely, that in which
religion stands for the influence of a certain
priesthood. A religion is sometimes said to
have been successful when it has got its priests
into power ; thus some writers speak of the
wonderfully 'rapid success of Christianity. A
nation is said to have embraced a religion when
the authorities of that nation have granted
privileges to the clergy, have made them as far
as possible the leaders of society, and have
given them a considerable share in the manage-
ment of public affairs. So the northern nations
208
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
of Europe are said to have embraced the
Catholic religion at an early date. The reason
why it seems to me convenient to take these
two meanings together is, that they are both
related to the priesthood. Although the
priesthood itself is not called religion, so far
as I know, yet the word is used for the general
influence and professional acts of the priesthood.
Thirdly, religion may mean a body of pre-
cepts or code of rules, intended to guide human
conduct, as in this sentence of the authorised
version of the New Testament: “ Pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father is this,
to visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from
the world” (James i. 27). It is sometimes
difficult to draw the line between this mean-
ing and the last, for it is a mark of the
great majority of religions that they confound
ceremonial observances with duties having
real moral obligation. Thus in the Jewish
decalogue the command to do no work on
Saturdays is found side by side with the pro-
hibition of murder and theft. It might seem to
be the more correct as well as the more philo-
sophical course to follow in this matter the
distinction made by Butler between moral and
positive commands, and to class all those pre-
cepts which are not of universal moral obligation
under the head of ceremonial. And, in fact,
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 209
when we come to examine the matter from the
point of view of morality, the distinction is of
the utmost importance. But from the point of
view of religion there are difficulties in making
it. In the first place, the distinction is not
made, or is not understood, by religious folk in
general. Innumerable tracts and pretty stories
impress upon us that Sabbath-breaking is rather
worse than stealing, and leads naturally on to
materialism and murder. Less than a hundred
years ago sacrilege was punishable by burning
in France, and murder by simple decapitation.
In the next place, if we pick out a religion at
haphazard, we shall find that it is not at all
easy to divide its precepts into those which are
really of moral obligation and those which are
indifferent and of a ceremonial character. We
may find precepts unconnected with any cere-
monial, and yet positively immoral; and
ceremonials may be immoral in themselves,
or constructively immoral on account of their
known symbolism. On the whole, it seems to
me most convenient to draw the plain and
obvious distinction between those actions which
a religion prescribes to all its followers, whether
the actions are ceremonial or not, and those
which are prescribed only as professional
actions of a sacerdotal class. The latter will
come under what I have called the second
meaning of religion, the professional acts and
VOL. II
210
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
meaning will be included all that practically
guides the life of a layman, in so far as this
guidance is supplied to him by his religion.
Fourthly, and lastly, there is a meaning of
the word religion which has been coming more
and more prominently forward of late years,
till it has even threatened to supersede all the
others. Religion has been defined as morality
touched with emotion. I will not here adopt
this definition, because I wish to deal with the
concrete in the first place, and only to pass on
to the abstract in so far as that previous study
appears to lead to it. I wish to consider the
facts of religion as we find them, and not ideal
possibilities. “Yes, but," every one will say,
“if you mean my own religion, it is already,
as a matter of fact, morality touched with
emotion. It is the highest morality touched
with the purest emotion, an emotion directed
towards the most worthy of objects." Un-
fortunately we do not mean your religion alone,
but all manner of heresies and heathenisms
along with it: the religions of the Thug, of the
Jesuit, of the South Sea cannibal, of Confucius,
of the poor Indian with his untutored mind, of
the Peculiar People, of the Mormons, and of
the old cat-worshipping Egyptian. It must be
clear that we shall restrict ourselves to a very
narrow circle of what are commonly called
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
211
religious facts, unless we include in our con-
siderations not only morality touched with
emotion, but also immorality touched with
emotion. In fact, what is really touched with
emotion in any case is that body of precepts
for the guidance of a layman's life which we
have taken to be the third meaning of religion.
In that collection of precepts there may be
some agreeable to morality, and some repug-
nant to it, and some indifferent, but being all
enjoined by the religion they will all be touched
by the same religious emotion. Shall we then
say that religion means a feeling, an emotion,
an habitual attitude of mind towards some
object or objects, or towards life in general,
which has a bearing upon the way in which
men regard the rules of conduct? I think the
last phrase should be left out. An habitual
attitude of mind, of a religious character, does
always have some bearing upon the way in
which men regard the rules of conduct; but it
seems sometimes as if this were an accident,
and not the essence of the religious feeling.
Some devout people prefer to have their devotion
pure and simple, without admixture of any such
application -- they do not want to listen to
“cauld morality." And it seems as if the
religious feeling of the Greeks, and partly also
of our own ancestors, was so far divorced from
morality that it affected it only, as it were, by
212
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
a side-wind, through the influence of the char-
acter and example of the Gods. So that it
seems only likely to create confusion if we mix
up morality with this fourth meaning of religion.
Sometimes religion means a code of precepts,
and sometimes it means a devotional habit of
mind ; the two things are sometimes connected,
but also they are sometimes quite distinct.
But that the connection of these two things is
more and more insisted on, that it is the key-
note of the apparent revival of religion which
has taken place in this century, is a very
significant fact, about which there is more to
be said.
As to the nature of this devotional habit of
mind, there are no doubt many who would like
a closer definition. But I am not at all pre-
pared to say what attitude of mind may pro-
perly be called religious, and what may not.
Some will hold that religion must have a person
for its object; but the Buddha was filled with
religious feeling, and yet he had no personal
object. Spinoza, the God-intoxicated man,
had no personal object for his devotion. It
might be possible to frame a definition which
would fairly include all cases, but it would
require the expenditure of vast ingenuity and
research, and would not, I am inclined to think,
be of much use when it was obtained.
Nor is the difficulty to be got over by taking
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
213
any definite and well-organised sect, whose
principles are settled in black and white; for
example, the Roman Catholic Church, whose
seamless unity has just been exhibited and
protected by an Ecumenical Council. Shall we
listen to Mr. Mivart, who "execrates without
reserve Marian persecutions, the Massacre of
St. Bartholomew, and all similar acts”? or to
the editor of the Dublin Review, who thinks
that a teacher of false doctrines “should be
visited by the law. with just that amount of
severity which the public sentiment will bear"?
For assuredly common-sense morality will pass
very different judgments on these two distinct
religions, although it appears that experts have
found room for both of them within the limits
of the Vatican definitions.
Moreover, there is very great good to be
got by widening our view of what may be
contained in religion. If we go to a man and
propose to test his own religion by the canons
of common-sense morality, he will be, most
likely, offended, for he will say that his religion
is far too sublime and exalted to be affected by
considerations of that sort. But he will have
no such objection in the case of other people's
religion. And when he has found that in the
name of religion other people, in other circum-
stances, have believed in doctrines that were
false, have supported priesthoods that were
214
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
*
-
-
--
-
-
-
2.
social evils, have taken wrong for right, and
have even poisoned the very sources of morality,
he may be tempted to ask himself,“ Is there no
trace of any of these evils in my own religion,
or at least in my own conception and practice
of it?'” And that is just what we want him
to do. Bring your doctrines, your priesthoods,
your precepts, yea, even the inner devotion of
your soul, before the tribunal of conscience ;
she is no 'man's and no God's vicar, but the
supreme judge of men and Gods.
Let us inquire, then, what morality has to
say in regard to religious doctrines. It deals
with the manner of religious belief directly,
and with the matter indirectly. Religious
beliefs must be founded on evidence ; if they
are not so founded, it is wrong to hold them.
The rule of right conduct in this matter is
exactly the opposite of that implied in the two
(famous texts : “He that believeth not shall be
damned,” and “ Blessed are they that have not
1 seen and yet have believed.” For a man who
clearly felt and recognised the duty of intel-
lectual honesty, of carefully testing every belief
before he received it, and especially before he
recommended it to others, it would be impos-
sible to ascribe the profoundly immoral teach-
ing of these texts to a true prophet or worthy
leader of humanity. It will comfort those
who wish to preserve their reverence for the
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
215
character of a great teacher to remember that
one of these sayings is in the well-known
forged passage at the end of the second gospel,
and that the other occurs only in the late and
legendary fourth gospel ; both being described
as spoken under utterly impossible circum-
stances. These precepts belong to the Church
and not to the Gospel. But whoever wrote
either of them down as a deliverance of one
whom he supposed to be a divine teacher, has
thereby written down himself as a man void of
intellectual honesty, as a man whose word can-
not be trusted, as a man who would accept and
spread about any kind of baseless fiction for
fear of believing too little.
So far as to the manner of religious belief.
Let us now inquire what bearing morality has
upon its matter. We may see at once that this
can only be indirect; for the rightness or wrong-
ness of belief in a doctrine depends only upon
the nature of the evidence for it, and not upon
what the doctrine is. But there is a very
important way in which religious doctrine may
lead to morality or immorality, and in which,
therefore, morality has a bearing upon doctrine.
It is when that doctrine declares the character
and actions of the Gods who are regarded as
objects of reverence and worship. If a God is
represented as doing that which is clearly
wrong, and is still held up to the reverence of
216
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
men, they will be tempted to think that 'in
doing this wrong thing they are not so very
wrong after all, but are only following an
example which all men respect. So says
Plato ? :-
“We must not tell a youthful listener that
he will be doing nothing extraordinary if he
commit the foulest crimes, nor yet if he chastise
the crimes of a father in the most unscrupulous
manner, but will simply be doing what the first
and greatest of the Gods have done before
him. ...
“Nor yet is it proper to say in any case-
what is indeed untrue—that Gods wage war
against Gods, and intrigue and fight among
themselves; that is, if the future guardians of
our state are to deem it a most disgraceful
thing to quarrel lightly with one another : far
less ought we to select as subjects for fiction
and embroidery the battles of the giants, and
numerous other feuds of all sorts, in which
Gods and heroes fight against their own kith
and kin. But if there is any possibility of
persuading them that to quarrel with one's
fellow is a sin of which no member of a state
was ever guilty, such ought rather to be the
language held to our children from the first,
by old men and old women, and all elderly
persons; and such is the strain in which our
1 Rep. ii. 378. Tr. Davies and Vaughan.
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
217
poets must be compelled to write. But stories
like the chaining of Hera by her son, and the
flinging of Hephaistos out of heaven for trying
to take his mother's part when his father was
beating her, and all those battles of the Gods
which are to be found in Homer, must be
refused admittance into our state, whether they
be allegorical or not. For a child cannot dis-
criminate between what is allegory and what is
not; and whatever at that age is adopted as a
matter of belief has a tendency to become fixed
and indelible, and therefore, perhaps, we ought
to esteem it of the greatest importance that
the fictions which children first hear should be
adapted in the most perfect manner to the
promotion of virtue.”
And Seneca says the same thing, with still
more reason in his day and country : “What
else is this appeal to the precedent of the Gods
for, but to inflame our lusts, and to furnish
licence and excuse for the corrupt act under
the divine protection?" And again, of the
character of Jupiter as described in the popular
legends : “ This has led to no other result than
to deprive sin of its shame in man's eyes, by
showing him the God no better than himself.”
In Imperial Rome, the sink of all nations, it was
not uncommon to find “the intending sinner
addressing to the deified vice which he con-
templated a prayer for the success of his design;
218
the adulteress. imploring of Venus the favours
of her paramour; ... the thief praying to
Hermes Dolios for aid in his enterprise, or
offering up to him the first fruits of his plunder ;
... youths entreating Hercules to expedite
the death of a rich uncle." I
When we reflect that criminal deities were
worshipped all over the empire, we cannot but
wonder that any good people were left; that
man could still be holy, although every God
was vile. Yet this was undoubtedly the case ;
the social forces worked steadily on wherever
there was peace and a settled government and
municipal freedom; and the wicked stories of
theologians were somehow explained away and
· disregarded. If men were no better than their
religions, the world would be a hell indeed.
It is very important, however, to consider
what really ought to be done in the case of
stories like these. When the poet sings that
Zeus kicked Hephaistos out of heaven for
fiction must be suppressed by law. We cannot
follow him there, for since his time we have
had too much of trying to suppress false
doctrines by law. Plato thinks it quite
obviously clear that God cannot produce evil,
and he would stop everybody's mouth who
ventured to say that he can. But in regard to
1 North British Review, 1867, p. 284.
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
219
-
the doctrine itself, we can only ask, “Is it
true ?." And that is a question to be settled
by evidence. Did Zeus commit this crime, or
did he not? We must ask the apologists, the
reconcilers of religion and science, what
evidence they can produce to prove that Zeus
kicked Hephaistos out of heaven. That a
doctrine may lead to immoral consequences is
no reason for disbelieving it. But whether the
doctrine were true or false, one thing does
clearly follow from its moral character: namely
this, that if Zeus behaved as he is said to have
behaved, he ought not to be worshipped. To
those who complain of his violence and in-
justice, it is no answer to say that the divine
attributes are far above human comprehension ;
that the ways of Zeus are not our ways, neither
are his thoughts our thoughts. If he is to be
worshipped, he must do something vaster and
nobler and greater than good men do, but it
must be like what they do in its goodness.
His actions must not be merely a magnified
copy of what bad men do. So soon as they
are thus represented, morality has something
to say. Not indeed about the fact; for it is
not conscience, but reason, that has to judge
matters of fact; but about the worship of a
character so represented. If there really is
good evidence that Zeus kicked Hephaistos out
of heaven, and seduced Alkmene by a' mean
220
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
trick, say so by all means; but say also that it
is wrong to salute his priests or to make offer-
ings in his temple.
When men do their duty in this respect,
morality has a very curious indirect effect on
the religious doctrine itself. As soon as the
offerings become less frequent, the evidence for
the doctrine begins to fade away; the process
of theological interpretation gradually brings
out the true inner meaning of it, that Zeus did
not kick Hephaistos out of heaven, and did not
seduce Alkmene.
Is this a merely theoretical discussion about
far-away things ? Let us come back for a
moment to our own time and country, and think
whether there can be any lesson for us in this
refusal of common-sense morality to worship a
deity whose actions are a magnified copy of
what bad men do. There are three doctrines
which find very wide acceptance among our
countrymen at the present day : the doctrines
of original sin, of a vicarious sacrifice, and of
eternal punishments. We are not concerned
with any refined evaporations of these doctrines
which are exhaled by courtly theologians, but
with the naked statements which are put into
the minds of children and of ignorant people,
which are taught broadcast and without shame
in denominational schools. Father Faber, good
soul, persuaded himself that after all only a
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
221
very few people would be really damned, and
Father Oxenham gives one the impression that
it will not hurt even them very much. But one
learns the practical teaching of the Church
from such books as A Glimpse of Hell where a
child is described as thrown between the bars
upon the burning coals, there to writhe for ever.
The masses do not get the elegant emascula-
tions of Father Faber and Father Oxenham ;
they get "a Glimpse of Hell."
Now to condemn all mankind for the sin of
Adam and Eve; to let the innocent suffer for
the guilty ; to keep any one alive in torture
for ever and ever; these actions are simply
magnified copies of what bad men do. No
juggling with “divine justice and mercy" can
make them anything else. This must be said
to all kinds and conditions of men : that if God
holds all mankind guilty for the sin of Adam,
if he has visited upon the innocent the punish-
ment of the guilty, if he is to torture any single
soul for ever, then it is wrong to worship
him.
But there is something to be said also
to those who think that religious beliefs
are not indeed true, but are useful for the
masses ; who deprecate any open and public
argument against them, and think that all
sceptical books should be published at a
high price; who go to church, not because
222
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
.
they approve of it themselves, but to set an
example to the servants. Let us ask them to
ponder the words of Plato, who, like them,
thought that all these tales of the Gods were
fables, but still fables which might be useful
to amuse children with: “We ought to esteein it
of the greatest importance that the fictions which
children first hear should be adapted in the most
perfect manner to the promotion of virtue." If
we grant to you that it is good for poor people
and children to believe some of these fictions,
is it not better, at least, that they should
believe those which are adapted to the pro-
motion of virtue ? Now the stories which you
send your servants and children to hear are
adapted to the promotion of vice. So far as
the remedy is in your own hands, you are
bound to apply it; stop your voluntary
subscriptions and the moral support of your
presence from any place where the criminal
doctrines are taught. You will find more men
and better men to preach that which is agree-
able to their conscience, than to thunder out
doctrines under which their minds are always
uneasy, and which only a continual self-
deception can keep them from feeling to be
wicked.
Let us now go on to inquire what morality
has to say in the matter of religious ministra-
tions, the official acts and the general influence of
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
223
a priesthood. This question seems to me a more
difficult one than the former ; at any rate it is
not so easy to find general principles which are
at once simple in their nature and clear to the
conscience of any man who honestly considers
them. One such principle, indeed, there is,
which can hardly be stated in a Protestant
country without meeting with a cordial response ;
being indeed that characteristic of our race
which made the Reformation a necessity, and
became the soul of the Protestant movement.
I mean the principle which forbids the priest
to come between a man and his conscience.
If it be true, as our daily experience teaches
us, that the moral sense gains in clearness and
power by exercise, by the constant endeavour
to find out and to see for ourselves what is
right and what is wrong, it must be nothing
short of a moral suicide to delegate our con-
science to another man. It is true that when
we are in difficulties and do not altogether see
our way, we quite rightly seek counsel and
advice of some friend who has more experience,
more wisdom begot by it, more devotion to the
right than ourselves, and who, not being involved
in the difficulties which encompass us, may
more easily see the way out of them. But
such counsel does not and ought not to take
the place of our private judgment; on the
contrary, among wise men it is asked and
224
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
given for the purpose of helping and supporting
private judgment. I should go to my friend,
not that he may tell me what to do, but that
he may help me to see what is right.
Now, as we all know, there is a priesthood
whose influence is not to be made light of, even
in our own land, which claims to do two things :
to declare with infallible authority what is right
and what is wrong, and to take away the guilt
of the sinner after confession has been made to
it. The second of these claims we shall come
back upon in connection with another part of
the subject. But that claim is one which, as it
seems to me, ought to condemn the priesthood
making it in the eyes of every conscientious
man. We must take care to keep this question
to itself, and not to let it be confused with quite
different ones. The priesthood in question, as
we all know, has taught that as right which is
not right, and has condemned as wrong some
of the holiest duties of mankind. But this is
not what we are here concerned with. Let us
put an ideal case of a priesthood which, as a
matter of fact, taught a morality agreeing with
the healthy conscience of all men at a given
time; but which, nevertheless, taught this as
an infallible revelation. The tendency of such
teaching, if really accepted, would be to destroy
morality altogether, for it is of the very
essence of the moral sense that it is a common
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 225
perception by men of what is good for man.
It arises, not in one man's mind by a flash of
genius or a transport of ecstasy, but in all
men's minds, as the fruit of their necessary
intercourse and united labour for a common
object. When an infallible authority is set up,
the voice of this natural human conscience
must be hushed and schooled, and made to
becomes the whole duty of man; and the
notion of right is attached to a lifeless code of
rules, instead of being the informing character
of a nation. The natural consequence is that
it fades gradually out and ends by disappearing
altogether. I am not describing a purely
conjectural state of things, but an effect which
has actually been produced at various times
and in considerable populations by the influence
of the Catholic Church. It is true that we
cannot find an actually crucial instance of a
pure morality taught as an infallible revelation,
reason alone. There are two circumstances
which prevent this. One is that the Catholic
priesthood has always practically taught an
imperfect morality, and that it is difficult to
distinguish between the effects of precepts
which are wrong in themselves, and precepts
which are only wrong because of the manner
in which they are enforced. The other circum-
VOL. II
226
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
stance is that the priesthood has very rarely
found a population willing to place itself com-
pletely and absolutely under priestly control.
Men must live together and work for common
objects even in priest - ridden countries; and
those conditions which in the course of ages
have been able to create the moral sense cannot
fail in some degree to recall it to men's minds
and gradually to reinforce it. Thus it comes
about that a great and increasing portion of
life breaks free from priestly influences, and is
governed upon right and rational grounds.
The goodness of men shows itself in time more
powerful than the wickedness of some of their
religions.
The practical inference is, then, that we
ought to do all in our power to restrain and
diminish the influence of any priesthood which
claims to rule consciences. But when we
attempt to go beyond this plain Protestant
principle, we find that the question is one of
history and politics. The question which we
want to ask ourselves—"Is it right to support
this or that priesthood?”—can only be answered
by this other question, “What has it done or
got done ?"
In asking this question, we must bear in
mind that the word priesthood, as we have used
it hitherto, has a very wide meaning—namely,
it means any body of men who perform special
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 227
ceremonies in the name of religion ; a ceremony
being an act which is prescribed by religion to
that body of men, but not on account of its
intrinsic rightness or wrongness. It includes,
therefore, not only the priests of Catholicism, or
of the Obi rites, who lay claim to a magical
character and powers, but more familiar clergy-
men or ministers of Protestant denominations,
and the members of monastic orders. But
there is a considerable difference, pointed out
by Hume, between a priest who lays claim to
a magical character and powers, and a clergy-
man, in the English sense, as it was understood
in Hume's day, whose office was to remind
people of their duties every Sunday, and to
represent a certain standard of culture in remote
country districts. It will, perhaps, conduce to
clearness if we use the word priest exclusively
in the first sense.
There is another confusion which we must
endeavour to avoid, if we would really get at
the truth of this matter. When one ventures
to doubt whether the Catholic clergy has
really been an unmixed blessing to Europe,
one is generally met by the reply, “You cannot
find any fault with the Sermon on the Mount."
Now it would be too much to say that this
has nothing to do with the question we are
proposing to ask, for there is a sense in which
the Sermon on the Mount and the Catholic
228
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
clergy have something to do with each other.
The Sermon on the Mount is admitted on all
hands to be the best and most precious thing
that Christianity has offered to the world ; and
it cannot be doubted that the Catholic clergy
of East and West were the only spokesmen of
Christianity until the Reformation, and are the
spokesmen of the vast majority of Christians at
this moment. But it must surely be un-
necessary to say in a Protestant country that
the Catholic Church and the Gospel are two
very different things. The moral teaching of
Christ, as partly preserved in the three first
gospels, or—which is the same thing - the
moral teaching of the great Rabbi Hillel, as
partly preserved in the Pirkė Aboth, is the
expression of the conscience of a people who
had fought long and heroically for their national
existence. In that terrible conflict they had
learned the supreme and overwhelming import-
ance of conduct, the necessity for those who
would survive of fighting manfully for their
lives and making a stand against the hostile
powers around; the weakness and uselessness
of solitary and selfish efforts, the necessity for
a man who would be a man to lose his poor
single personality in the being of a greater and
nobler combatant--the nation. And they said
all this, after their fashion of short and potent
sayings, perhaps better than any other men
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
229
have said it before or since. “If I am not for
myself," said the great Hillel, “who is for me?
And if I am only for myself, where is the use
of me? And if not now, when ?” It would
be hard to find a more striking contrast than
exists between the sturdy unselfish independ-
ence of this saying, and the abject and selfish
servility of the priest-ridden claimant of the
skies. It was this heroic people that produced
the morality of the Sermon on the Mount.
But it was not they who produced the priests
and the dogmas of Catholicism. Shaven
crowns, linen vestments, and the claim to
priestly rule over consciences, these were dwellers
on the banks of the Nile. The gospel indeed
came out of Judæa, but the Church and her
dogmas came out of Egypt. Not, as it is
written, “Out of Egypt have I called my son,"
but, “Out of Egypt have I called my daughter."
St. Gregory of Nazianzum remarked with
wonder that Egypt, having so lately worshipped
bulls, goats, and crocodiles, was now teaching
the world the worship of the Trinity in its
truest form. Poor, simple St. Gregory! it was
not that Egypt had risen higher, but that the
world had sunk lower. The empire, which in
the time of Augustus had dreaded, and with
reason, the corrupting influence of Egyptian
i See Sharpe, Egyptian Mythology and Egyptian Christianity,
P. II4.
230
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
superstitions, was now eaten up by them, and
rapidly rotting away.
Then, when we ask what has been the in-
fluence of the Catholic clergy upon European
nations, we are not inquiring about the results
of accepting the morality of the Sermon on the
Mount; we are inquiring into the effect of
attaching an Egyptian priesthood, which teaches
Egyptian dogmas, to the life and sayings of a
Jewish prophet.
In this inquiry, which requires the know-
ledge of facts beyond our own immediate
experience, we must make use of the great
principle of authority, which enables us to
profit by the experience of other men. The
great civilised countries on the continent of
Europe at the present day-France, Germany,
Austria, and Italy — have had an extensive
experience of the Catholic clergy for a great
number of centuries, and they are forced by
strong practical reasons to form a judgment
upon the character and tendencies of an institu-
tion which is sufficiently powerful to command
the attention of all who are interested in public
affairs. We might add the experience of
our forefathers three centuries ago, and of
Ireland at this moment; but home politics are ·
apt to be looked upon with other eyes than those
of reason. Let us hear, then, the judgment of
the civilised people of Europe on this question.
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
231
It is a matter of notoriety that an aider and
abettor of clerical pretensions is regarded in
France as an enemy of France and of French-
men; in Germany as an enemy of Germany
and of Germans; in Austria as an enemy of
Austria and Hungary, of both Austrians and
Magyars; and in Italy as an enemy to Italy
and the Italians. He is so regarded, not by a
few wild and revolutionary enthusiasts who
have cast away all the beliefs of their childhood
and all bonds connecting them with the past,
but by a great and increasing majority of sober
and conscientious men of all creeds and
persuasions, who are filled with a love for their
country, and whose hopes and aims for the
future are animated and guided by the examples
of those who have gone before them, and by a
sense of the continuity of national life. The
profound conviction and determination of the
people in all these countries, that the clergy
must be restricted to a purely ceremonial
province, and must not be allowed to interfere,
as clergy, in public affairs-this conviction and
determination, I say, are not the effect of a
rejection of the Catholic dogmas. Such
rejection has not in fact been made in Catholic
countries by the great majority. It involves
many difficult speculative questions, the pro-
found disturbance of old habits of thought, and
the toilsome consideration of abstract ideas.
232
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
But such is the happy inconsistency of human
nature, that men who would be shocked and
pained by a doubt about the central doctrines of
their religions are far more really and practically
shocked and pained by the moral consequences
of clerical ascendency. About the dogmas
they do not know; they were taught them in
childhood, and have not inquired into them
since, and therefore they are not competent
witnesses to the truth of them. But about the
priesthood they do know, by daily and hourly
experience; and to its character they are
competent witnesses. No man can express his
convictions more forcibly than by acting upon
them in a great and solemn matter of national
importance. In all these countries the con-
viction of the serious and sober majority of the
people is embodied, and is being daily embodied,
in special legislation, openly and avowedly
intended to guard against clerical aggression.
The more closely the legislature of these
countries reflects the popular will, the more
clear and pronounced does this tendency be-
come. It may be thwarted or evaded for the
moment by constitutional devices and parlia-
mentary tricks, but sooner or later the nation
will be thoroughly represented in all of them :
and as to what is then to be expected, let the
panic of the clerical parties make answer.
This is a state of opinion and of feeling which
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 233
we in our own country find it hard to under-
stand, although it is one of the most persistent
characters of our nation in past times. We
have spoken so plainly and struck so hard in
the past, that we seem to have won the right
to let this matter alone. We think our enemies
are dead, and we forget that our neighbour's
enemies are plainly alive : and then we wonder
that he does not sit down and be quiet as we
are. We are not much accustomed to be
afraid, and we never know when we are beaten.
But those who are nearer to the danger feel a
very real and, it seems to me, well-grounded
fear. The whole structure of modern society,
the fruit of long and painful efforts, the hopes
of further improvement, the triumphs of justice,
of freedom, and of light, the bonds of patriotism
which make each nation one, the bonds of
humanity which bring different nations together
all these they see to be menaced with a
great and real and even pressing danger. For
myself I confess that I cannot help feeling as
they feel. It seems to me quite possible that
the moral and intellectual culture of Europe,
the light and the right, what makes life worth
having and men worthy to have it, may be
clean swept away by a revival of superstition.
We are, perhaps, ourselves not free from such a
domestic danger ; but no one can doubt that
the danger would speedily arise if all Europe at
234
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
our side should become again barbaric, not with
the weakness and docility of a barbarism which
has never known better, but with the strength of
a past civilisation perverted to the service of evil.
Those who know best, then, about the
Catholic priesthood at present, regard it as a
standing menace to the state and to the moral
fabric of society.
Some would have us believe that this con-
dition of things is quite new, and has in fact
been created by the Vatican Council. In the
Middle Ages, they say, the Church did incal-
culable service; or even if you do not allow
that, yet the ancient Egyptian priesthood in-
vented many useful arts; or if you have read
anything which is not to their credit, there
were the Babylonians and Assyrians who had
priests, thousands of years ago; and in fact
the more you go back into prehistoric ages, and
the farther you go away into distant countries,
the less you can find to say against the priest-
hoods of those times and places. This state-
ment, for which there is certainly much
foundation, may be put into another form: the
more you come forward into modern times and
neighbouring countries, where the facts can
actually be got at, the more complete is the
evidence against the priesthoods of these times
and places. But the whole argument is founded
upon what is at least a doubtful view of human
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
235
nature and of society. Just as an early school
of geologists were accustomed to explain the
present state of the earth's surface by supposing
that in primitive ages the processes of geologic
change were far more violent and rapid than
they are now --So catastrophic, indeed, as to
constitute a thoroughly different state of things
--so there is a school of historians who think
that the intimate structure of human nature, its
capabilities of learning and of adapting itself to
society, have so far altered within the historic
period as to make the present processes of
social change totally different in character from
those even of the moderately distant past.
They think that institutions and conditions
which are plainly harmful to us now have at
other times and places done good and service-
able work. War, pestilence, priestcraft, and
slavery have been represented as positive boons
to an early state of society. They are not
blessings to us, it is true ; but then times have
altered very much.
On the other hand, a later school of
geologists have seen reason to think that the
processes of change have never, since the earth
finally solidified, been very different from what
they are now. More rapid, indeed, they must
have been in early times, for many reasons ;
but not so very much more rapid as to constitute
an entirely different state of things. And it
236
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
does seem to me in like manner that a wider
and more rational view of history will recognise
more and more of the permanent, and less and
less of the changeable, element in human
nature. No doubt our ancestors of a thousand
generations back were very different beings
from ourselves; perhaps fifty thousand genera-
tions back they were not men at all. But
the historic period is hardly to be stretched
beyond two hundred generations; and it seems
unreasonable to expect that in such a tiny page
of our biography we can trace with clearness
the growth and progress of a long life.
Compare Egypt in the time of King Menes,
say six thousand years ago, with Spain in this
present century, before Englishmen made any
railways there : I suppose the main difference
is that the Egyptians washed themselves. It
seems more analogous to what we find in other
fields of inquiry to suppose that there are
certain great broad principles of human life
which have been true all along; that certain
conditions have always been favourable to the
health of society, and certain other conditions
always hurtful.
Now, although I have many times asked for
it from those who said that somewhere and at
some time mankind had derived benefits from
a priesthood laying claim to a magical character
and powers, I have never been able to get any
1
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION 237
evidence for their statement. Nobody will give
me a date, and a latitude and longitude, that I
may examine into the matter. “In the Middle
Ages the priests and monks were the sole
depositaries of learning." Quite so; a man
burns your house to the ground, builds a
wretched hovel on the ruins, and then takes
credit for whatever shelter there is about the
place. In the Middle Ages nearly all learned
men were obliged to become priests and monks.
“Then again, the bishops have sometimes acted
as tribunes of the people, to protect them
against the tyranny of kings." No doubt, when
Pope and Cæsar fall out, honest men may come
by their own. If two men rob you in a dark
lane, and then quarrel over the plunder, so that
you get a chance to escape with your life, you
will of course be very grateful to each of them
for having prevented the other from killing
you ; but you would be much more grateful to
a policeman who locked them both up. Two
powers have sought to enslave the people, and
have quarrelled with each other ; certainly we
are very much obliged to them for quarrelling,
but a condition of still greater happiness and
security would be the non-existence of both.
I can find no evidence that seriously
militates against the rule that the priest is at
all times and in all places the enemy of all
men - Sacerdos semper, ubique, et omnibus
238
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
inimicus. I do not deny that the priest is very
often a most earnest and conscientious man,
doing the very best that he knows of as well as
he can do it. Lord Amberley is quite right in
saying that the blame rests more with the laity
than with the priesthood ; that it has insisted on
magic and mysteries, and has forced the priest-
hood to produce them. But then, how dreadful
is the system that puts good men to such uses!
And although it is true that in its origin a
priesthood is the effect of an evil already
existing, a symptom of social disease rather
than a cause of it, yet, once being created and
made powerful, it tends in many ways to
prolong and increase the disease which gave it
birth. One of these ways is so marked and of
such practical importance that we are bound
to consider it here : I mean the education of
children. If there is one lesson which history
forces upon us in every page, it is this: Keep your
children away from the priest, or he will make
them the enemies of mankind. It is not the
Catholic clergy and those like them who are
alone to be dreaded in this matter ; even the
representatives of apparently harmless religions
may do incalculable mischief if they get
education into their hands. To the early
Mohammedans the mosque was the one public
building in every place where public business
could be transacted ; and so it was naturally
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
239
the place of primary education, which they held
to be a matter of supreme importance. By
and by, as the clergy grew up, the mosque was
gradually usurped by them, and primary educa-
tion fell into their hands. Then ensued a
fanaticism : books were burnt and universities
were closed; the empire rotted away in East
and West, until it was conquered by Turkish
savages in Asia and by Christian savages in
Spain.
The labours of students of the early history
of institutions—notably Sir Henry Maine and
M. de Laveleye — have disclosed to us an
element of society which appears to have
existed in all times and places, and which is
the basis of our own social structure. The
village community, or commune, or township,
found in tribes of the most varied race and
time, has so modified itself as to get adapted
in one place or another to all the different
conditions of human existence. This union of
men to work for a common object has trans-
formed them from wild animals into tame ones.
Century by century the educating process of
the social life has been working at human
nature; it has built itself into our inmost soul.
Such as we are—moral and rational beings—
thinking and talking in general conceptions
240
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
necessity to act, not for ourselves, but for
Ourself, for the larger life of Man in which we
are elements ; such moral and rational beings,
I say, Man has made us. By Man I mean
men organised into a society, which fights for
its life, not only as a mere collection of men
who must separately be kept alive, but as a
society. It must fight, not only against external
enemies, but against treason and disruption
within it. Hence comes the unity of interest
of all its members ; each of them has to feel
that he is not himself only but a part of all the
rest. Conscience — the sense of right and
wrong--springs out of the habit of judging
things from the point of view of all and not of
one. It is Ourself, not ourselves, that makes
for righteousness.
: The codes of morality, then, which are
adopted into various religions, and afterwards
taught as parts of religious systems, are derived
from secular sources. The most ancient version
of the Ten Commandments, whatever the in-
vestigations of scholars may make it out to be,
originates, not in the thunders of Sinai, but in
the peaceful life of men on the plains of
Chaldæa. Conscience is the voice of Man
ingrained into our hearts, commanding us to
work for Man.
Religions differ in the treatment which they
give to this most sacred heirloom of our past
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION .
U
241
history.--Sometimes they invert its precepts
telling men to be submissive under oppression
because the powers that be are ordained of
God; telling them to believe where they have
not seen, and to play with falsehood in order
that a particular doctrine may prevail, instead
of seeking for truth whatever it may be ; telling
them to betray their country for the sake of
their church. But there is one great distinc-
tion to which I wish, in conclusion, to call
special attention—a distinction between two
kinds of religious emotion which bear upon
the conduct of men.
We said that conscience is the voice of Man
within us, commanding us to work for Man.
We do not know this immediately by our own
experience; we only know that something
within us commands us to work for Man. This
fact men have tried to explain ; and they have
thought, for the most part, that this voice was
the voice of a God But the explanation takes
two different forms: the God may speak in us
for Man's sake, or for his own sake. If he
speaks for his own sake and this is what
generally happens when he has priests who lay
claim to a magical character and powers-our
allegiance is apt to be taken away from Man,
and transferred to the God. When we love,
our brother for the sake of our brother, we help
all men to grow in the right; but when we
VOL. II
R
1242
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Fars.
love our brother for the sake of somebody else,
who is very likely to damn our brother, it very
soon comes to burning him alive for his soul's
health. When men respect human life for the
sake of Man, tranquillity, order, and progress go
hand in hand ; but those who only respected
human life because God had forbidden murder
have set their mark upon Europe in fifteen
centuries of blood and fire.
These are only two examples of a general
rule. Wherever the allegiance of men has been
diverted from Man to some divinity who speaks
to men for his own sake and seeks his own
glory, one thing has happened. The right
precepts might be enforced, but they were
enforced upon wrong grounds, and they were
not obeyed. But right precepts are not always
enforced; the fact that the fountains of morality
have been poisoned makes it easy to substitute
wrong precepts for right ones.
To this same treason against humanity
belongs the claim of the priesthood to take
away the guilt of a sinner after confession has
been made of it. The Catholic priest professes
to act as an ambassador for his God, and to
absolve the guilty man by conveying to him
the forgiveness of heaven. If his credentials
were ever so sure, if he were indeed the
ambassador of a superhuman power, the claim
would be treasonable. Can the favour of the
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
243
Czar make guiltless the murderer of old men
and women and children in Circassian valleys ?
Can the pardon of the Sultan make clean the
bloody hands of a Pasha ? As little can any
God forgive sins committed against man.
When men think he can, they compound for
old sins which the God did not like by com-
mitting new ones which he does like. Many a
remorseful despot has atoned for the levities of
his youth by the persecution of heretics in his
old age. That frightful crime, the adulteration
of food, could not possibly be so common
amongst us if men were not taught to regard it
as merely objectionable because it is remotely
connected with stealing, of which God has
expressed his disapproval in the Decalogue ;
punctual attendance at church on Sundays.
When a Ritualist breaks his fast before cele-
brating the Holy Communion, his deity can
forgive him if he likes, for the matter concerns
nobody else ; but no deity can forgive him for
preventing his parishioners from setting up a
public library and reading-room for fear they
should read Mr. Darwin's works in it. That
sin is committed against the people, and a God
cannot take it away.
I call those religions which undermine the
supreme allegiance of the conscience to Man
ultramontane religions, because they seek their
244
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
springs of action ultra montes, outside of the
common experience and daily life of man.
And I remark about them that they are
especially apt to teach wrong precepts, and that
even when they command men to do the right
things they put the command upon wrong
motives, and do not get the things done.
But there are forms of religious emotion
which do not thus undermine the conscience.
Far be it from me to undervalue the help and
strength which many of the bravest of our
brethren have drawn from the thought of an
unseen helper of men. He who, wearied or
stricken in the fight with the powers of dark-
ness, asks himself in a solitary place, " Is it all
for nothing ? shall we indeed be overthrown ?"
-he does find something which may justify
that thought. In such a moment of utter
sincerity, when a man has bared his own soul
before the immensities and the eternities, a
· presence in which his own poor personality is
shrivelled into nothingness arises within him, and
says, as plainly as words can say, “I am with
thee, and I am greater than thou.” Many
names of Gods, of many shapes, have men
given to this presence ; seeking by names and
pictures to know more clearly and to remember
more continually the guide and the helper of
men. No such comradeship with the Great
Companion shall have anything but reverence
THE ETHICS OF RELIGION
245
from me, who have known the divine gentleness
of Denison Maurice, the strong and healthy prac-
tical instinct of Charles Kingsley, and who now
revere with all my heart the teaching of James
Martineau. They seem to me, one and all, to
be reaching forward with loving anticipation to
a clearer vision which is yet to come-tenden-
tesque manus ripæ ulterioris amore. For, after
all, such a helper of men, outside of humanity,
the truth will not allow us to see. The dim
and shadowy outlines of the superhuman deity
fade slowly away from before us; and as the
mist of his presence floats aside, we perceive
with greater and greater clearness the shape of
a yet grander and nobler figure of Him who
made all Gods and shall unmake them. From
the dim dawn of history, and from the inmost
depth of every soul, the face of our father Man
looks out upon us with the fire of eternal youth
in his eyes, and says, “Before Jehovah was, I
am!"
THE INFLUENCE UPON MORALITY
OF A DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS
BELIEF.
FROM “A MODERN SYMPOSIUM”
(In No. 2 of “ The Nineteenth Century.”)
IN the third of the preceding discourses? there
is so much which I can fully and fervently
accept, that I should find it far more grateful
to rest in that feeling of admiration and sym-
pathy than to attend to points of difference
which seem to me to be of altogether secondary
import. But for the truth's sake this must
first be done, because it will then be more easy
to point out some of the bearings of the position
held in that discourse upon the question which
is under discussion.
That the sense of duty in a man is the
prompting of a self other than his own, is the
very essence of it. Not only would morals
not be self-sufficing, if there were no such
1 By Dr. Martineau.
DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS BELIEF
247
prompting of a wider self, but they could not
exist : one might as well suppose a fire without
heat. Not only is a sense of duty inherent in
the constitution of our nature, but the prompt-
ing of a wider self than that of the individual
is inherent in a sense of duty. It is no more
possible to have the right without unselfishness
than to have man without a feeling for the
right.
We may explain or account for these facts
in various ways, but we shall not thereby alter
the facts. No theories about heat and light
will ever make a cold fire. And no doubt or
disproof of any existing theory can any more
extinguish that self other than myself, which
speaks to me in the voice of conscience, than
doubt or disproof of the wave-theory of light
can put out the noonday sun.
One such theory is defended in the discourse
here dealt with, and, if I may venture to say so,
is not quite sufficiently distinguished from the
facts which it is meant to explain. The theory
is this: that the voice of conscience in my
mind is the voice of a conscious being ex-
ternal to me and to all men, who has made
us and all the world. When this theory is
admitted, the observed discrepancy between our
moral sense and the government of the world
as a whole makes it necessary to suppose
another world and another life in it for men,
248
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
whereby this discord shall be resolved in a final
harmony.
I fully admit that the theistic hypothesis,
so grounded, and considered apart from objec-
tions otherwise arising, is a reasonable hypo-
thesis and an explanation of the facts. The
idea of an external conscious being is unavoid-
ably suggested, as it seems to me, by the cate-
gorical imperative of the moral sense; and
moreover, in a way quite independent, by the
aspect of nature, which seems to answer to our
questionings with an intelligence akin to our
own. It is more reasonable to assume one
consciousness than two, if by that one assump-
tion we can explain two distinct facts; just as
if we had been led to assume an ether to explain
light, and an ether to explain electricity, we
might have run before experiment and guessed
that these two ethers were but one. But since
there is a discordance between nature and
conscience, the theory of their common origin
in a mind external to humanity has not met
with such acceptance as that of the divine
origin of each. A large number of theists
have rejected it, and taken refuge in Mani-
chæism and the doctrine of the Demiurgus in
various forms; while others have endeavoured,
as aforesaid, to redress the balance of the old
world by calling into existence a new one.
It is, however, a very striking and significant
DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS BELIEF 249
fact that the great majority of mankind who
have thought about these questions at all, while
acknowledging the existence of divine beings
and their influence in the government of the
world, have sought for the spring and sanction of
duty in something above and beyond the Gods.
The religions of Brahmanism and of Buddhism,
and the moral system of Confucius, have together
ruled over more than two-thirds of the human
race during the historic period; and in all of
these the moral sense is regarded as arising
indeed out of a universal principle, but not as
personified in any conscious being. This vast
body of dissent might well, it should seem,
make us ask if there is not something unsatisfy-
ing in the theory which represents the voice of
conscience as the voice of a God.
Although, as I have said, the idea of an
external conscious being is unavoidably sug-
gested by the moral sense, yet, if this idea
should be found untrue, it does not follow that
nature has been fooling us. The idea is not in
the facts, but in our inference from the facts.
A mirror unavoidably suggests the idea of a
room behind it; but it is not our eyes that
decive us, it is only the inference we draw from
their testimony. Further consideration may
lead to a different inference of far greater
practical value.
Now, whether or no it be reasonable and
250
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
satisfying to the conscience, it cannot be
doubted that theistic belief is a comfort and a
solace to those who hold it, and that the loss
of it is a very painful loss. It cannot be
doubted, at least, by many of us in this genera-
tion, who either profess it now, or received it
in our childhood and have parted from it since
with such searching trouble as only cradle-faiths
can cause. We have seen the spring sun shine
out of an empty heaven, to light up a soulless
earth; we have felt with utter loneliness that
the Great Companion is dead. Our children,
it may be hoped, will know that sorrow only
by the reflex light of a wondering compassion.
But to say that theistic belief is a comfort and
a solace, and to say that it is the crown or
coping of morality, these are different things.
For in what way shall belief in God strengthen
my sense of duty ? He is a great one working
for the right. But I already know so many,
and I know these so well. His righteousness is
unfathomable; it transcends all ideals. But I
have not yet fathomed the goodness of living
men whom I know; still less of those who
have lived, and whom I know. And the good-
ness of all these is a striving for something
better ; now it is not the goal, but the striving
for it, that matters to me. The essence of
their goodness is the losing of the individual
self in another and a wider self; but God
DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS BELIEF 251
cannot do this; his goodness must be some-
thing different. He is infinitely great and power-
ful, and he lives for ever. I do not understand
this mensuration of goodness by foot-pounds
and seconds and cubic miles. A little field-
mouse, which busies itself in the hedge, and
does not mind my company, is more to me
than the longest ichthyosaurus that ever lived,
even if he lived a thousand years. When we
look at a starry sky, the spectacle whose awful-
ness Kant compared with that of the moral
sense, does it help out our poetic emotion to re-
flect that these specks are really very very big,
and very very hot, and very very far away?
Their heat and their bigness oppress us; we
should like them to be taken still farther away,
the great blazing lumps. But when we think
of the unseen planets that surround them, of the
wonders of life, of reason, of love that may dwell
therein, then indeed there is something sublime
in the sight. Fitness and kinship; these are
the truly great things for us, not force and
massiveness and length of days.
Length of days, said the old Rabbi, is
measured not by their number, but by the
work that is done in them. We are all to be
swept away in the final ruin of the earth. The
thought of that ending is a sad thought; there
is no use in trying to deny this. But it has
nothing to do with right and wrong; it belongs
252
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
to another subject. Like All-father Odin, we
must ride out gaily to do battle with the wolf
of doom, even if there be no Balder to come
back and continue our work. At any rate the
right will have been done; and the past is
safer than all storehouses.
The conclusion of the matter is that belief
in God and in a future life is a source of refined
and elevated pleasure to those who can hold it.
But the foregoing of a refined and elevated
pleasure, because it appears that we have no
right to indulge in it, is not in itself, and
cannot produce as its consequence, a decline
of morality.
There is another theory of the facts of the
moral sense set forth in the succeeding dis-
course, and this seems to me to be the true one.
The voice of conscience is the voice of our
Father Man who is within us; the accumulated
instinct of the race is poured into each one of
into a cup. Our evidence for this explanation
is that the cause assigned is a vera causa, it
undoubtedly exists ; there is no perhaps about
that. And those who have tried tell us that
it is sufficient : the explanation, like the fact,
“covers the whole voluntary field.” The lightest
1 By Mr. Frederic Harrison.
2 Schopenhauer. There is a most remarkable article on the
“Natural History of Morals" in the North British Review,
December 1867.
DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS BELIEF
253
and the gravest action may be consciously done
in and for Man. And the sympathetic aspect
of nature is explained to us in the same way.
In so far as our conception of nature is akin to
our minds that conceive it, Man made it; and
Man made us, with the necessity to conceive
it in this way.1
I do not, however, suppose that morality
would practically gain much from the wide
acceptance of true views about its nature,
except in a way which I shall presently suggest.
I neither admit the moral influence of theism
in the past, nor look forward to the moral
influence of humanism in the future. Virtue is
a habit, not a sentiment or an -ism. The
doctrine of total depravity seems to have been
succeeded by a doctrine of partial depravity,
according to which there is hope for human
affairs, but still men cannot go straight unless
some tremendous all-embracing theory has a
finger in the pie. Theories are most important
and excellent things when they help us to see
the matter as it really is, and so to judge what
is the right thing to do in regard to it. They
are the guides of action, but not the springs of
it. Now the spring of virtuous action is the
social instinct, which is to set to work by the
i For an admirable exposition of the doctrine of the social
origin of our conceptions, see Professor Croom Robertson's paper,
“How we come by our Knowledge," in the first number of the
Nineteenth Century.
254
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
practice of comradeship. The union of men in
a common effort for a common object-band-
work, if I may venture to translate co-operation
into English-this is and always has been the
true school of character. Except in times of
severe struggle for national existence, the
practice of virtue by masses of men has always
been coincident with municipal freedom, and
with the vigour of such unions as are not large
enough to take from each man his conscious
share in the work and in the direction of it.
What really affects morality is not religious
belief, but a practice which, in some times and
places, is thought to be religious—namely, the
practice of submitting human life to clerical
control. The apparently destructive tendency
of modern times, which arouses fear and the
foreboding of evil in the minds of many of the
best of men, seems to me to be not mainly an
intellectual movement. It has its intellectual
side, but that side is the least important, and
touches comparatively few souls. The true
core of it is a firm resolve of men to know the
right at first hand, which has grown out of the
strong impulse given to the moral sense by
political freedom. Such a resolve is a necessary
condition to the existence of a pure and noble
theism like that of the third discourse, which
learns what God is like by thinking of man's
i Dr. Martineau's.
DECLINE IN RELIGIOUS BELIEF 255
love for man. Although that doctrine has
been prefigured and led up to for many ages
by the best teaching of Englishmen, and
what is far more important -- by the best
practice of Englishmen, yet it cannot be
accepted on a large scale without what will
seem to many a decline of religious belief.
For assuredly if men learn the nature of God
from the moral sense of man, they cannot go
on believing the doctrines of popular theology.
Such change of belief is of small account in
itself, for any consequences it can bring about ;
but it is of vast importance as a symptom of
the increasing power and clearness of the sense
of duty.
On the other hand there is one." decline of
in human conduct, which would indeed be a
frightful disaster to mankind. A revival of any
form of sacerdotal Christianity would be a
matter of practice and not a matter of theory.
The system which sapped the foundations of
patriotism in the old world; which well-nigh
eradicated the sense of intellectual honesty, and
seriously weakened the habit of truth-speaking;
which lowered men's reverence for the marriage-
bond by placing its sanctions in a realm outside
of nature instead of in the common life of
men, and by the institutions of monasticism
and a celibate clergy; which stunted the moral
256
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
sense of the nations by putting a priest between
every man and his conscience; this system, if
it should ever return to power, must be
expected to produce worse evils than those
which it has worked in the past. The house
which it once made desolate has been partially
swept and garnished by the free play gained
for the natural goodness of men. It would
come back accompanied by social diseases
perhaps worse than itself, and the wreck of
civilised Europe would be darker than the
darkest of past ages.
COSMIC EMOTION 1
By a cosinic emotion-the phrase is Mr. Henry
Sidgwick's—I mean an emotion which is felt
in regard to the universe or sum of things,
viewed as a cosmos or order. There are two
kinds of cosmic emotion-one having reference
to the Macrocosm or universe surrounding and
containing us, the other relating to the Micro-
cosm or universe of our own souls. When we
try to put together the most general conceptions
that we can form about the great aggregate of
events that are always going on, to strike a
sort of balance among the feelings which these
events produce in us, and to add to these the
feeling of vastness associated with an attempt
to represent the whole of existence, then we
experience a cosmic emotion of the first kind.
It may have the character of awe, veneration,
resignation, submission; or it may be an over-
powering stimulus to action, like the effect of
the surrounding orchestra upon a musician who
is thereby caught up and driven to play his
Nineteenth Century, October 1877.
VOL. II
258
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
proper part with force and exactness of time
and tune. If, on the other hand, we consider
the totality of our own actions and of the
feelings that go with them or spring out of
tion to express the character of those which we
call good, and if we contemplate this with the
feeling of vastness which belongs to that which
concerns all things that all men do, we shall
kind. Such an emotion finds voice in Words-
worth's Ode to Duty:
5 Stern daughter of the voice of God!
O Duty, if that name thou love,
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!"
A special form of each of these kinds of
cosmic emotion has been expressed in a
sentence by Immanuel Kant, which has been
perfectly translated by Lord Houghton:
“Two things I contemplate with ceaseless awe;
The stars of Heaven, and Man's sense of Law.”
For the star-full sky on a clear night is the
most direct presentation of the sum of things
that we can find, and from the nature of the
circumstances is fitted to produce a cosmic
COSMIC EMOTION
.
259
emotion of the first kind. And the moral
faculty of man was thought of by Kant as
possessing universality in a peculiar sense; for
the form of all right maxims, according to him,
is that they are fit for universal law, applicable
to all intelligent beings whatever. This mode
of viewing the faculty is clearly well adapted
for producing cosmic emotion of the second kind.
The character of the emotion with which
men contemplate the world, the temper in
which they stand in the presence of the
immensities and the eternities, must depend
first of all on what they think the world is.
The theory of the universe, the view of things,
prevalent at any time and place, will rouse
appropriate feelings in those who contemplate
it; not the same in all, for temperament varies
with the individual, and the same facts stir
differently different souls, yet so that, on the
whole, the character of cosmic emotion depends
on the nature of cosmic ideas.
When, therefore, the inevitable progress of
knowledge has changed the prevalent cosmic
ideas, so that the world as we know it is not
the world which our fathers knew, the oldest
cosmic emotions are no longer found to fit.
Knowledge must have been in men's possession
for a long time before it has acquired the
certainty, the precision, the familiarity, the
wide diffusion and comprehension which make
260
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
i
it fit to rouse feelings strong enough and
general enough for true poetic expression.
For the true poetry is that which expresses our
feelings, and not iny feelings only—that which
appeals to the universal in the heart of each
one of us. So it has come about that the
world of the poet, the world in its emotional
aspect, always lags a little behind the world of
science, not merely as it appears to the few
who are able to assist at the birth of its con-
ceptions, but even as it is roughly and in broad
strokes revealed to the many. We always
know a little more than our imaginations have
thoroughly pictured. To some minds there is
hope and renewing of youth in the sense that
the last word is not yet spoken, that greater
mysteries yet lie behind the veil. The prophet
himself may say with gladness, "He that
cometh after me shall be preferred before me.”
But others see in the clearer and wider vision
that approaches them the end of all beauty and
joy in the earth ; because their old feelings are
not suited to the new learning, they think that
learning can stir no feelings at all. Even the
great poet already quoted, whom no science
will put out of date, complained of the prosaic
effects of explanation, and said, “We murder
to dissect."
I propose to consider and compare an
ancient and a modern system of cosmic ideas,
COSMIC EMOTION
261
and to show how the emotions suited to the
latter have already in part received poetic
expression.
In the early part of the fifth century of our
era the Neoplatonic philosopher Hierokles was
teaching at Alexandria. He was an Alex-
andrian by birth, and had studied with Proklos,
or a little before him, under Plutarch at Athens.
He was a man of great eloquence, and of better
Greek than most of his contemporaries. He
astonished his hearers everywhere, says Suidas,
by the calm, the magnificence, the width of his
superlative intellect, and by the sweetness of
his speech, full of the most beautiful words and
things. A man of manly spirit and courage ;
for being once at Byzantium he came into
collision with the ecclesiastical authorities (Tois
kpatolloi) and was scourged in court; then,
streaming with blood, he caught some of it in
his hand and threw it at the magistrate, with
this verse of the Odyssey : “Here, Cyclops, drink
wine, since you eat human flesh !”1 For which
contempt of court he was banished, but
subsequently made his way back to Alexandria.
Here he lectured on various topics, foreknow-
ledge, will, and fate, expounding also some of
the dialogues of Plato and other philosophical
writings.
i [The translation is not quite correct. It should rather be
"after your meal of human flesh" ("after thy feast of man's
meat,"-Butcher and Lang). ]
262
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
YA
But the matter of one course of lectures is
preserved to us. It is a commentary on a
document in hexameter verse belonging to the
Pythagorean scriptures, dating apparently from
the third century B.C. These lines were called
by Jamblichus the Golden Verses; but Gregory
of Nazianzum did them the honour to say they
were rather made of lead. They are not elegant
as poetry; the form of verse seems to have been
adopted as an aid to the memory. More than
half of them consist of a sort of versified “duty
to God and my neighbour,” except that it is
not designed by the rich to be obeyed by the
poor, that it lays stress on the laws of health,
and that it is just such sensible counsel for the
good and right conduct of life as an English
gentleman might nowadays give to his son.
We need not be astonished that the step from
the Mediterranean to Great Britain, over two
thousand years of time, should make no great
difference in the validity of maxims like these.
We might go back four thousand years farther,
and find the same precepts handed down at
Memphis as the wisdom of a hoar antiquity.
“ There's some things as I've never felt if the
dark about,” says Mrs. Winthrop, "and they're
mostly what comes i' the day's work."
There are curious indications that the point
of view of the commentator is not that of the
verses themselves. “Before all things honour
O
COSMIC EMOTION
263
the immortal Gods, as they are ordained by
law," begin the verses, with the frank Eras-
tianism of the Greeks, who held that every
man should worship the Gods in the manner
belonging to his city and country ; that matter
being settled for themselves by the oracle of
the Delphian Apollo. But this did not suit
the Neoplatonist of the fifth century, whom the
law of his country required to worship images
of Mary and her son (to be sure, they might
be adapted figures of Isis and Horus) and the
miraculous toe-nails of some filthy and ignorant
monk. The law named in the verses could
not be that which had scourged and banished
a philosopher; so it is explained to mean the
demiurgic law, which assigns to the Gods their
several orders, the law of the divine nature.
We are to honour the immortal Gods, says the
commentator, in the order which is assigned to
them by the law of their being. For Hierokles
there is one supreme deity and three orders of
angels--the immortal Gods, the illustrious
heroes, and the terrestrial dæmons or partially
deified souls of men. The bishops, as we all
know, multiplied these numbers by three.
As to the kind of worship, our commentator
quotes some old Pythagorean maxims. You
shall honour the God best by becoming godlike in
your thoughts. Whoso giveth God honour as to
one that needeth it, that man in his folly hath
1
264
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
qraw is a poor
made himself greater than God. The wise man
only is a priest, is a lover of God, is skilled to
pray. “For," he says, "that man only knows
how to worship who does not confound the
relative dignity of worshipful things, who
begins by offering himself as the victim,
fashions his own soul into a divine image, and
furnishes his mind as a temple for the recep-
tion of the divine light.” “The whole force of
worship," he says in another place, “lies in
knowledge of the nature of that which is
worshipped.”
(It is interesting to compare this last maxim
with the proposition of Spinoza :1 “He who
clearly and distinctly understands himself and
his own emotions, loves God, and that the
more, the more he understands himself and his
own emotions." For to understand clearly and
distinctly is to contemplate in relation to God,
to the cosmic idea. When the mind contem-
plates itself in relation to God, it necessarily
rises from a lower to a higher grade of perfec-
tion. Now joy is the passage from a lower to
a higher grade of perfection, and love is joy
associated with the idea of an external cause.
He, then, that rises to higher perfection in the
presence of the idea of God, loves God.)
1" Qui se suosque affectus clare et distincte intelligit, Deum
amat, et eo magis, quo se suosque affectus magis intelligit."-
Eth. v. prop. xv. Cf. Affectuum definitiones ad fin. part iii..
COSMIC EMOTION
265
But it is in the latter portion of the Golden
Verses that we find a general view of life and
of nature assigned as the ground of the precepts
which have gone before. There are in all
seventy-one lines; of the last thirty-two I
venture to subjoin a translation as nearly
literal as is consistent with intelligibility.1
“Let not soft sleep come upon thy eyelids,
till thou hast pondered thy deeds of the day :
"Wherein have I sinned? What work have
I done? What left undone that I was bound
to do?
“Beginning at the first, go through even
unto the last; and then let thy heart smite
thee for the evil deed, but rejoice in the good
work.
“Work at these commandments, and think
upon them; these commandments shalt thou
love.
“ They shall surely set thee in the way of
divine righteousness; yea, by Him who gave
into our soul the Tetrad, well-spring of Nature
everlasting
"Set to thy work with a will, beseeching
the Gods for the end thereof.
: “And when thou hast mastered these com-
mandments, thou shalt know the being of the
1 The text followed is that of Mullach, in the Fragmenta
Philosophorum Græcorum, Paris, 1860, from the prolegomena to
which ny information is derived.
266
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Y
Gods that die not, and of men that die; thou
shalt know of things, wherein they are diverse,
and the kinship that binds them in one.
“Know, so far as is permitted thee, that
Nature in all things is like unto herself:
“That thou mayest not hope that of which
there is no hope, nor be ignorant of that which
may be.
“Know thou also that the woes of men are
the work of their own hands :
"Miserable are they, because they see not
and hear not the good that is very nigh them;
and the way of escape from evil, few there be
that understand it.
"Like rollers they roll to and fro, having
endless trouble ; so hath fate broken the wits 1
of mortal men.
“A baneful strife lurketh inborn in us, and
goeth on the way with us to hurt us ; this let
not a man stir up, but avoid and flee.
“ Verily, Father Zeus, thou wouldst free all
men from much evil, if thou wouldst teach all
men what manner of spirit they are of.
“But do thou be of good cheer; for they
are Gods' kindred whom holy Nature leadeth on-
ward, and in due order showeth them all things.
“And if thou hast any part with them, and
keepest these commandments, thou shalt utterly
heal thy soul, and save it from travail.
1 " My brains are broken." -Sir Walter Raleigh.
COSMIC EMOTION
267
“Keep from the meats aforesaid, using judg-
ment both in cleansing and in setting free thy
soul.
“Give heed to every matter, and set Reason
on high, who best holdeth the reins of guidance.
“Then, when thou leavest the body, and
comest into the free æther, thou shalt be a God
undying, everlasting, neither shall death have
any more dominion over thee."
It is worth while to notice the comment of
Hierokles on the self-judgment enjoined in the
first of these lines,
: “The judge herein appointed,” he says, “is
the most just of all, and the one which is most
at home with us; namely, conscience itself,
and right reason. And each man is to be
judged by himself, before whom our bringing-
up has taught us to be more shamefast than
before any other. (As a previous verse com-
mands; of all men be most shamefast before
thyself: TávtWV 8è uáriot' aloxúveo cautóv.)
For what is there of which one man can so
admonish another, as he can himself ? For
the free will, misusing the liberty of its nature,
turns away from the counsels of others, when
it does not wish to be led by them ; but a
man's own reason must needs obey itself.”
Whether the clear statement of this doctrine
of the conscience, doininans ille deus in nobis,
as Cicero calls it, is originally Stoic or Pytha-
268
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
gorean, must be left for the learned to decide.
Hierokles, however, says expressly that the
image of Reason guiding the lower faculties as
the charioteer guides his chariot was derived by
Plato from the Pythagoreans.
Very remarkable indeed is the view of
Nature set forth in the subsequent verses.
“Know, so far as is permitted thee, that Nature
is in all things uniform” (φύσιν περί παντός
ouoinv). This conception of the world as a
great cosmos or order is the primary condition
of human progress. In the earliest steps of
primitive men in the simplest arts of life there
is involved a dim recognition and practical use
of it to the extent of its application in that
stage. Every step forward is an increase in
the range of its application. In the industrial
arts, in the rules of health, the methods of heal-
ing, the preparation of food, in morals and
politics, every advance is an application of past
experience to new circumstances, in accordance
with an observed order of nature. Philosophy
consists in the conscious recognition of this
method, and in the systematic use of it for the
complete guidance of life. Aberration from it
is the death of the rational soul ; not, says
Hierokles, that it ceases thereby to exist, but
that it falls away from harmony with divine
Nature and with reason. This fatal falling
COSMIC EMOTION
269
of strenuous effort; a hoping for things of
which there is no hope, an ignorance of what
may be; a perpetual striving to clamber up
the back stairs of a universe that has no back
stairs. The Neoplatonists were not wholly
spotless in this regard. They had learned evil
things of the Egyptians: magic, astrology,
converse with spirits, theurgy, and the en-
deavour by trances and ecstasies to arrive at
feelings and ideas which are alien to the healthy
and wakeful mind. And so the uniformity of
nature gives our commentator some little trouble,
and requires to be interpreted.
“Know so far as is permitted thee û déues
toti),” say the verses. “For we ought not to
yield to unreasoning prejudice, and accommo-
date the order and dignity of things to our
fancies; but to keep within the bounds of truth
and know all things as it is permitted, namely,
as the Demiurgic law has assigned to every one
So the commentator, reading into the verses
more than the writer put there, not without
edification. We, then, on our part, may read
into them this—that it is not "permitted” to
regard the uniformity of nature as a dogma
known with certainty, or exactness, or univer-
sality : but only within the range of human
conduct, as a practical rule for the guidance of
the same, and as the only source of beliefs that
270
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Y
T
will not lead astray. For to affirm any general
proposition of this kind to be certainly, or
exactly, or universally true, is to make a
mistake about the nature and limits of human
knowledge. But at present it is a venial
mistake, because the doctrine of the nature of
human knowledge, Erkenntniss-theorie, Ken-lore,
is only now being thoroughly worked out, so
that our children will know a great deal more
about it than we do, and have what they know
much better and more simply expressed. It
is almost infinitely more important to keep in
view that the uniformity of nature is practically
certain, practically exact, practically universal,
and to make this conception the guide of our
lives, than to remember that this certainty,
exactness, and universality are only known
practically, not in a theoretical or absolute way.
How far away is thedoctrine of uniformity from
fatalism! It begins directly to remind us that
men suffer from preventible evils, that the people
perisheth for lack of knowledge. "Miserable
are they, because they see not and hear not the
good that is very nigh them; and the way of
escape from evil, few there be that understand
it.” The practical lesson is not that of the
pessimist, that we should give up the contest,
recognise that life is an evil, and get out of it
as best we may ; but on the contrary, that
having found anything wrong, we should set to
COSMIC EMOTION
271
work to mend it; for the woes of men are the
work of their own hands.
“But be thou of good cheer, for they are of
Gods' kindred whom holy Nature leadeth
onward, and in due order showeth them all
things."
The expression (iepà apopépovoa . . . del-
κνυσιν έκαστα) belongs to the rite of initiation
into the mysteries. Nature is represented as
the hierophant, the guiding priest by whom the
faithful were initiated into the divine secrets
one by one. The history of mankind is con-
ceived as such a mystic progress under the guid-
ance of divine Nature. It has been sometimes
said that the ancient world was entirely devoid
of the conception of progress. But like most
sweeping antitheses between ancient and inodern,
East and West, and the like, when we come to
look a little closely into this assertion it
becomes difficult to believe that any definite
meaning can ever have been assigned to it.
Certainly in the matter of physical science
there is no case of firmer faith in progress than
that of Hipparchus, who having made the great
step of determining the solar and lunar motions,
and having failed to extend the same methods
to the planets, stored up observations in the
sure and certain hope that a more fortunate
successor would accomplish that work; which
indeed was done by Ptolemy. And it is very
272
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
important to notice that the exact sciences
were regarded as the standard to which the
others should endeavour to attain, as appears
by the commentary on a subsequent passage in
these very verses. On the phrase "using judg-
ment both in cleansing and in setting free thy
soul,” Hierokles explains that the cleansing or
lustration of the rational soul means the
mathematic sciences, and that the upward-
leading liberation (åvayoryos lúors), the freedom
that is progressive, is scientific inquiry, or a
scientific view of things (dialektiKÝ Tôv ÖVTOV
ÉTTortela), the clear and exact vision of one
who has attained the highest grade of initiation.
Accordingly, the medical sciences never lost
the tradition of progress by continuous observa-
tion impressed on them by Hippocrates; and
in the Alexandrian museum were trained that
galaxy of famous physicians and naturalists
which kept the school illustrious until the claims
of culture were restored by the Arab conquest.
Nor is it possible to deny the conception and
practice of political progress to the great jurists
of Rome, any more than that of ethical progress
to the Stoic moralists. To the best minds,
with whatever subject occupied, there was
present this conception of divine Nature
patiently educating the human race, ready to
bring out of her storehouse good things without
number in the proper time.
COSMIC EMOTION
273
Nor was this hope of continued progress
altogether a vain one, if we will only look in
the right place for the fulfilment of it. Greek
polity and culture had been planted in the East
by Alexander's conquests from the Nile to the
Indus, there to suck up and gather together
the wisdom of centuries and of continents.
When the light and the right were driven out
of Europe by the Church, they found in the far
East a home with the Omaiyad and Abbasside
Caliphs, whose reign gave peace and breathing
time to the old and young civilisation that was
ready to grow. Across the North of Africa
came again the progressive culture of Greece
and Rome, enriched with precious jewels of
old-world lore; it took firm ground in Spain,
into Europe from the blades of Saracen swords.
From Bagdad to Cordova, in the great days of
the Caliphate, the best minds had faith in
human progress to be made by observation
culture was over-ridden and destroyed by the
development of the Mohammedan religion ; but
not until the sacred torch had been safely
handed on to the new nations of convalescent
Europe.
If the singer of the Golden Verses could
have contemplated on these lines the history of
the two thousand years that were to succeed
VOL. II
274
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
him, he would have seen an uninterrupted
succession of naturalists and physicians, philo-
sophers and statesmen, all steadily reaching
forward to the good things that were before,
never losing hold of what had already been
attained. And we, looking back, may see that
through overwhelming difficulties and dangers
and diseases holy Nature has indeed been
leading onward the kindred of the Gods, slowly
but surely unfolding to them the roll of the
heavenly mysteries.
Of course, if we restrict our view to Europe
itself, we meet with a far more complex and
difficult problem; a problem of pathology as
opposed to one of healthy growth. We have
to explain the apparent anomaly of two epochs
of comparative sanity and civilisation separated
by the disease and delirium of the Catholic
episode.
Just as the traveller, who has been worn to
the bone by years. of weary striving among
men of another skin, suddenly gazes with
doubting eyes upon the white face of a brother,
so, if we travel backwards in thought over the
darker ages of the history of Europe, we at
length reach back with such bounding of heart
to men who had like hopes with ourselves; and
shake hands across that vast with the singers
of the Golden Verses, our own true spiritual
ancestors.
1
1
COSMIC EMOTION
275
Well may Greece sing to the earth her
mother, in the Litany of Nations :
"I am she that made thee lovely with my beauty
From north to south :
Mine, the fairest lips, took first the fire of duty
From thine own mouth.
Mine, the fairest eyes, sought first thy laws and knew them
Truths undefiled;
Mine, the fairest hands, took freedom first into them,
A weanling child.” 1
Let us now put together the view of Nature
and of Life which is presented to us by the
Golden Verses, with a view to considering its
fitness for cosmic emotion. We are taught
therein to look upon Nature as a divine Order
or Cosmos, acting uniformly in all of its diverse
parts; which order, by means of its uniformity,
is continually educating us and teaching us to
act rightly. The ideal character, that which is
best fitted to receive the teaching of Nature,
is one which has Conscience for its motive
power and Reason for its guide. The main
point to be observed is that the two kinds of
cosmic emotion run together and become one.
The macrocosm is viewed only in relation to
human action; nature is presented to the
emotions as the guide and teacher of humanity.
And the microcosm is viewed only as tending
to complete correspondence with the external;
1 Swinburne, Songs before Sunrise.
276
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
human conduct is a subject for reverence only
in so far as it is consonant to the demiurgic
law, in harmony with the teaching of divine
Nature. This union of the two sides of cosmic
emotion belongs to the essence of the philo-
sophic life, as the corresponding intellectual
conception is of the essence of the scientific
view of things.
There were other parts of the Pythagorean
conception of Nature and Man which we cannot.
at present so easily accept. And even so much
'as is here suggested we cannot hold as the
Pythagoreans held it, because there are the
thoughts and the deeds of two thousand years
between. These ideas fall in very well with
the furniture of our minds; but a great deal
of the furniture is new since their time, and
changes their place and importance. Of the
detailed machinery of the Pythagorean creed
these verses say nothing. Of the sacred fire,
the hearth of the universe, with sun and planets
and the earth's double antichthon revolving
round it, the whole enclosed in a crystal globe
with nothing outside of the “Great Age" of
the world, after which everything occurs over
again in exactly the same order of the
mystic numbers, and so forth, we find no
mention in these verses, and they do not lose
much by it, though on that account Zeller calls
them “colourless." But a remembrance of
COSMIC EMOTION
277
these doctrines will help us to appreciate the
change that has come over our view of the
world.
First, then, the cosmos that we have to do
with is no longer a definite whole including
absolutely all existence. The old cosmos had
a boundary in space, a finite extent in time;
for the Great Age might be regarded as a
circle, on which you return to the same point
after going once round. Beyond the crystal
sphere of the fixed stars was nothing; outside
that circle of time no history. But now the
real universe extends at least far beyond the
cosmos, the order that we actually know of.
The sum total of our experience and of the
inferences that can fairly be drawn from it is
only, after all, a part of something larger. So
sings one whom great poets revere as a poet,
but to whom writers of excellent prose, and
even of leading articles, refuse the name :
“ I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled
systems,
And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher,
edge but the rim of the farther systems.
Wider and wider they spread, expanding always
expanding,
Outward and outward, and for ever outward.
There is no stoppage, and never can be stoppage;
If I, you, and the worlds, and all beneath or upon
their surfaces, were this moment reduced back to a
pallid float, it would not avail in the long run ;
278
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
We should surely bring up again where we now
stand,
And as surely go as much farther—and then farther
and farther.
A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic
leagues, do not hazard the span, or make it impatient;
They are but parts-anything is but a part.
See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of
that;
Count ever so much, there is limitless time around
that." 1
Whatever conception, then, we can form of
the external cosmos must be regarded as only
provisional and not final, as waiting revision
when we shall have pushed the bounds of our
knowledge farther away into time and space,
It must always, therefore, have a character of
incompleteness about it, a want, a stretching
out for something better to come, the expecta-
tion of a further lesson from the universal
teacher, Experience. And this not only by
way of extension of space and time, but by
increase of our knowledge even about this part
that we know of. Our conception of the
universe is for us, and not for our children, any
more than it was for our fathers.
But again, this incompleteness does not
belong to our conception of the external cosmos
Human nature is fluent, it is constantly though
1 Whitman, Leaves of Grass.
COSMIC EMOTION : 279
slowly changing, and the universe of human
action is changing also. Whatever general
conception we may form of good actions and
bad ones, we must regard it as quite valid only
for ourselves; the next generation will have a
slightly modified form of it, but not the same
thing. The Kantian universality is no longer
possible. No maxim can be valid at all times
and places for all rational beings; a maxim
valid for us can only be valid for such portions
of the human race as are practically identical
with ourselves.
Here then we have two limitations to keep
in mind when we form our cosmic conceptions.
On both sides they are provisional ; instead of
picturing to ourselves a universe, we represent
only a changing part; instead of contemplating
an eternal order, and absolute right, we find only
a changing property of a shifting organism.
Are we then to be disappointed? I think
not; for if we consider these limitations a little
more closely, we shall perceive an advantage in
each of them.
First, of the external cosmos. Our concep-
tion is limited to a part of things. But to
what part? Why, precisely to the part that
concerns us. The universe we have to consider
is the whole of that knowledge which can rightly
influence human action. For, wherever there
is a question of guiding human action, there is
280
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
a possibility of profiting by experience on the
assumption that nature is uniform ; that is,
there is room for the application of science.
All practical questions, therefore, are within
the domain of science. And we may show
conversely that all questions in the domain of
science, all questions, that is, which have a real
intelligible meaning, and which may be answered
either now or at some future time by inferences
founded on the uniformity of nature, are practi-
cal questions in a very real and important sense.
For the interrogation of nature, without and
within him, is a most momentous part of the
work of man on this earth, seeing how all his
progress has depended upon conscious or un-
conscious labour at this task. And although
the end of all knowledge is action, and it is
only for the sake of action that knowledge is
sought by the human race, yet, in order that
it may be gained in sufficient breadth and
depth, it is necessary that the individual should
seek knowledge for its own sake. The seeking
of knowledge for its own sake is a practical
pursuit of incalculable value to humanity.
The pretensions of those who would presume
to clothe genius in a strait - waistcoat, who
would forbid it to attempt this task because
Descartes failed in it, and that one because
Comte knew nothing about it, would be fatally
mischievous if they could be seriously con-
COSMIC EMOTION
281
sidered by those whom they might affect. No
good work in science has ever been done under
such conditions; and no good worker can fail
to see the utter futility and short-sightedness of
those who advocate them. For there is no
field of inquiry, however apparently insigni-
ficant, that does not teach the worker in it to
distrust his own powers of prevision as to what
he is likely to find ; to expect the unexpected ;
to be suspicious of his own accuracy if every-
thing comes out quite as it "ought to”; but
not to hazard the shadow of a guess about the
degree of "utility” that may result from his
investigations. Man's creative energy may be
checked and hindered, or perverted from the
truth ; but it is not to be regulated by a
pedantic schoolmaster who thought he could
whip the centuries with his birch broom.
The cosmos, then, which science now pre-
sents to our minds, is only a part of something
larger which includes it. But at the same
time it is the whole of what concerns us, and
no more than what concerns us. Wherever
human knowledge establishes itself, that point
becomes thenceforward a centre of practical
human interest. It, and whatever valid in-
ference can be connected with it, is the business
of all mankind.
So also, if we consider the limitation im-
posed on our idea of the internal cosmos by
282
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
the changing character of human nature, we
shall find that we have gained more than we
have lost by it. It is true that we can no
longer think of conscience and reason as testi-
fying to us of things eternal and immutable.
Human nature is no longer there, a definite
thing from age to age, persisting unaltered
through the vicissitudes of cities and peoples.
Very nearly constant it is, practically constant
for so many centuries, but not constant through
that range of time which it practically concerns
us to know about and to ponder. But, on the
other side, what a flood of light is let in by
this very fact, not only on human nature, but
on the whole world! It is impossible to exag-
gerate the effect of the doctrine of evolution on
our conception of man and of nature. Suppose
all moving things to be suddenly stopped at
some instant, and that we could be brought
fresh, without any previous knowledge, to look
at this petrified scene. The spectacle would
be intensely absurd. Crowds of people would
be senselessly standing on one leg in the street,
looking at one another's backs; others would
be wasting their time by sitting in a train in a
place difficult to get at, nearly all with their
mouths open and their bodies in some con-
torted, unrestful posture. Clocks would stand
with their pendulums on one side. Everything
would be disorderly, conflicting, in its wrong
A
COSMIC EMOTION
283
place. But once remember that the world is
in motion, is going somewhere, and everything
be. Just so great a change of view, just so com-
plete an explanation, is given to us when we
recognise that the nature of man and beast and
of all the world is changing, is going somewhere.
The silly maladaptations in organic nature are
seen to be steps towards the improvement or
discarding of imperfect organs. The baneful
strife which lurketh inborn in us, and goeth on
the way with us to hurt us, is found to be the
relic of a time of savage or even lower condition.
It is probable that the doctrine of evolution
fills a somewhat larger space in our attention
than belongs to its ultimate influence. In the
next century, perhaps, men will not think so
much about it; they will be paying a new
attention to some new thing. But it will have
seized upon their minds, and will dominate all
1
yet conceive. When the sun is rising we pay
special attention to him and admire his glories;
but when he is well risen we forget him, because
we are busy walking about in his light.
Meanwhile, the doctrine of evolution may
be made to compensate us for the loss of the
immutable and eternal verities by supplying us
with a general conception of a good action, in
a wider sense than the ethical one.
284
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
If I have evolved myself out of something
like an amphioxus, it is clear to me that I have
become better by the change; I have risen in
the organic scale; I have become more organic.
Of all the changes that I have undergone, the
greater part must have been changes in the
organic direction ; some in the opposite direc-
tion, some perhaps neutral. But if I could
only find out which, I should say that those
changes which have tended in the direction of
greater organisation were good, and those which
tended in the opposite direction bad. Here
there is no room for proof; the words "good"
and "bad" belong to the practical reason, and
if they are defined, it is by pure choice. I
choose that definition of them which must
on the whole cause those people who act
upon it to be selected for survival. The good
action, then, is a mode of action which distin-
guishes organic from inorganic things, and
which makes an organic thing more organic,
or raises it in the scale. I shall try presently
to determine more precisely what is the nature
of this action; we must now merely remember
that my actions are to be regarded as good or
bad according as they tend to improve me as
an organism, to make me move farther away
from those intermediate forms through which
my race has passed, or to make me retrace
these upward steps and go down again. Here
COSMIC EMOTION
285
cosmos, the world of our own actions,
What now is our principle for the external
cosmos ? We consider here again not a statical
thing, but a vast series of events. We want
to contemplate not the nature of the external
universe as it now is, but the history of its
changes; not a perpetual cycle of similar
events, with nothing new under the sun, but a
drama, whose beginning is different from its
middle, and the middle from the end. For
practical purposes, which are what concern us,
the solar system is a quite sufficient cosmos.
We have certainly a history of it, furnished to
us by the nebular hypothesis ; and the truth of
this hypothesis is a matter of practical interest,
because the failure of the inferences on which
it is founded would modify our actions very
considerably. Still the great use is to show
that the life upon the earth must have been
evolved from inorganic matter; for the evolu-
tion of life is that part of the history of the
cosmos which directly concerns us. Now here
we have the enormous series of events which
bridges over the gulf between the smallest piece
of colloid matter and the human organism ;
this is our external cosmos. Must we leave it
as a series of events ? or can we find a general
principle by which the series shall be repre-
sented as a single event constantly going on?
286
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
N
Clearly we can, for the single event is a mode
of action which distinguishes organic from in-
organic things, and which makes organic things
more organic. We may regard this mode of
action as the generating principle which has
produced all the life upon the earth.
We arrive thus at a common principle, which
at once distinguishes good actions from bad in
the internal world, and which has created the
external world, so far as it is living. This
principle is, then, a fit object for cosmic emotion
if we can only get rid of the vagueness of its
definition. And it has this great advantage,
that it does not need to be personified for
poetical purposes. For we may regard the
result of this mode of action, extended over a
great length of time, as in some way an
embodiment of the action itself. In this way
the human race embodies in itself all the ages
of organic action that have gone to its evolu-
tion. The nature of organic action, then, is to
personify itself, and it has personified itself
most in the human race.
But before we go farther two things must
be remarked. First, the very great influence
of life in modifying the surface of the earth, so
great as in many cases to be comparable to the
effects of far ruder changes. Thus we have
rocks composed entirely of organic remains,
and climate changed by the presence or absence
COSMIC EMOTION
287
of forests. Secondly, although we have re-
stricted our cosmos to the earth in space, and
to the history of life upon it in time, there is
no necessity to maintain the restriction. For
we must suppose that organic action will always
take place when the elements which are capable
of it are present under the requisite physical
conditions of temperature, light, and environ-
ment. It is therefore in the last degree im-
probable that it is confined to our own planet:
In this principle, therefore, we must recognise
the mother of life, and especially of human life;
powerful enough to subdue the elements, and
yet always working gently against them;
biding her time in the whole expanse of heaven,
to make the highest cosmos out of inorganic
chaos; the actor, not of all the actions of living
things, but only of the good actions ; for a bad
action is one by which the organism tends to
become less organic, and acts for the time as if
inorganic.
To this mother of life, personifying herself
in the good works of humanity, it seems to me
that we may fitly address a splendid hymn of
Mr. Swinburne's, whose meaning if I mar or
mistake by such application, let the innocency
of my intent plead for pardon with one into
whose work it is impossible to read more or
more fruitful meaning than he meant in the
writing of it:
288
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
“Mother of man's time-travelling generations,
Breath of his nostrils, heart-blood of his heart,
God above all Gods worshipped of all nations,
Light above light, law beyond law, thou art.
“ Thy face is as a sword smiting in sunder
Shadows and chains and dreams and iron things;
The sea is dumb before thy face, the thunder
Silent, the skies are narrower than thy wings.
“ All old gray histories hiding thy clear features,
O secret spirit and sovereign, all men's tales,
Creeds woven of men thy children and thy creatures,
They have woven for vestures of thee and for veils.
“Thine hands, without election or exemption,
Feed all men fainting from false peace or strife,
O thou, the resurrection and redemption,
The godhead and the manhood and the life.” 1
Still our conception is very vague. We have
only said " good action has created the life of
the world, and in so doing has personified itself
as humanity ; so we call it the mother of life
and of man." And we have defined good
action to be that which makes an organism
more organic. We want, therefore, to know
something more definite about the kind of
action which makes an organism more organic.
This we can find, and of a nature suitable
for cosmic emotion, by paying attention to the
difference between molar and molecular move-
ment. We know that the particles even of
1 Songs before Sunrise.
COSMIC '
289
EMOTION
bodies which appear to be at rest are really in
a state of very rapid agitation, called molecular
motion, and that heat and nerve-discharge are
cases of such motion. But molar motion is the
movement in one piece of masses large enough
to be seen.
Now the peculiarity of living matter is that
it is capable of combining together molecular
motions, which are invisible, into molar motions,
which can be seen. It therefore appears to
have the property of moving spontaneously,
without help from anything else. So it can for
a little while ; but it is then obliged to take
molecular motion from the surrounding things
if it is to go on moving. So that there is no
real spontaneity in the case. But still its
changes of shape, due to aggregation of mole-
cular motion, may fairly be called action from
within, because the energy of the motion is
supplied by the substance itself, and not by
any external thing. If we suppose the same
thing to be true for a complex organism that
is true for a small speck of living matter--that
those changes in it which are directly initiated
by the living part of the organism are the ones
which distinguish it from inorganic things, and
tend to make it more organic-then we shall
have here the nearer definition of organic
action. It is probable that the definition as I
have stated it is rather too precise—that the
VOL. II
290
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
nature of the action, in fact, varies with circum-
stances in the complex organism, but is always
nearly as stated.
Let us consider what this means from the
internal point of view. When I act from
within, or in an organic manner, what seems to
me to happen? I must appear to be perfectly
free, for, if I did not, I must be made to act by
something outside of me. “We think ourselves
free," says Spinoza, “being conscious of our
actions, and not of the causes which determine
them.” But we have seen reason to believe
that although there is no physical spontaneity,
yet the energy for such an action is taken out
of myself—i.e. out of the living matter in my
body. As, therefore, the immediate origin of
my action is in myself, I really am free in the
only useful sense of the word. “Freedom is
such a property of the will,” says Kant, “as
enables living agents to originate events in-
dependently of foreign determining causes."
The character of an organic action, then, is
freedom--that is to say, action from within.
The action which has its immediate antecedents
within the organism has a tendency, in so far
as it alters the organism, to make it more
organic, or to raise it in the scale. The
action which is determined by foreign causes
is one in regard to which the organism acts
as if inorganic, and in so far as the action
COSMIC EMOTION
291
tends to alter it, it tends also to lower it in the
scale.
It is important to remember that only a
part of the body of a complex organism is
actually living matter. This living matter
carries about a quantity of formed or dead
stuff ; as Epictetus says, ψυχάριον εί βάσταζον
verpóv "a little soul for a little bears up this
corpse which is man."] Only actions originating
in the living part of the organism are to be
regarded as actions from within ; the dead part
is for our purposes a portion of the external
world. And so, from the internal point of
view, there are rudiments and survivals in the
mind which are to be excluded from that me,
whose free action tends to progress; that
baneful strife which lurketh inborn in us is the
foe of freedom_this let not a man stir up, but
avoid and flee.
The way in which freedom, or action from
within, has effected the evolution of organisms,
is clearly brought out by the theory of Natural
Selection. For the improvement of a breed
depends upon the selection of sports--that is
to say, of modifications due to the overflow-
ing energy of the organism, which happen to
i Swinburne, Poems and Ballads. I am aware of the difficulties
which beset Dr. Beale's theory of germinal matter, as they are
stated by Mr. G. H. Lewes ; but however hard it may be to decide
what is living matter, and what is formed stuff, the distinction
appears to me to be a real one, to the extent, at least, of the use
here made of it.
292
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
be useful to it in its special circumstances.
Modifications may take place by direct pressure
of external circumstances; the whole organism
or any organ may lose in size and strength
from failure of the proper food, but such
modifications are in the downward, not in the
upward direction. Indirectly external circum-
stances may of course produce upward changes;
thus the drying up of axolotl ponds caused the
survival of individuals which had "sported” in
the direction of lungs. But the immediate
cause of change in the direction of higher
organisation is always the internal and quasi-
spontaneous action of the organism. .
“Freedom we call it, for holier
Name of the soul there is none;
Surelier it labours, if slowlier,
Than the metres of star or of sun;
Slowlier than life into breath,
Surelier than time into death,
It moves till its labour be done." 1
The highest of organisms is the social
organism. To Mr. Herbert Spencer, who has
done so much for the whole doctrine of
evolution and for all that is connected with it,
we owe the first clear and rational statement of
the analogy between the individual and the
social organism, which, indeed, is more than an
analogy, being in many respects a true identity
1 Swinburne, Songs before Sunrise.
COSMIC EMOTION
293
of process and structure and function. Our
main business is with one property which the
social organism has in common with the
individual — namely, this, that it aggregates
molecular motions into molar ones. The
molecules of a social organism are the indi-
vidual men, women, and children of which it is
composed. By means of it, actions which, as
individual, are insignificant, are massed together
into the important movements of a society.
Co-operation, or band-work, is the life of it.
Thus it is able to "originate events inde-
pendently of foreign determining causes,” or to
act with freedom.
Freedom in a society, then, is a very
different thing from anarchy. It is the organic
action of the society as such; the union of its
elements in a common work. As Mr. Spencer
points out, society does not resemble those
organisms which are so highly centralised that
the unity of the whole is the important thing,
and every part must die if separated from the
rest, but rather those which will bear separa-
tion and reunion, because although there is
a certain union and organisation of the parts
in regard to one another, yet the far more
important fact is the life of the parts separately.
The true health of society depends upon the
communes, the villages and townships, infinitely
more than on the form and pageantry of an
U
294
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
imperial government. If in them there is
band-work, union for a common effort, converse
in the working out of a common thought, then
the Republic is, and needs not to be made
with hands, though Cæsar have his guns in
every citadel. None the less it will be part of
the business of the Republic, as she grows in
strength, to remove him. So long as two or
three are gathered together, freedom is there in
the midst of them, and it is not until society
is utterly divided into its elements that she
departs :-
“ Courage yet! my brother or my sister
Keep on! Liberty is to be subserv'd, whatever occurs ;
That is nothing, that is quell'd by one or two failures, or
any number of failures,
Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or
by any unfaithfulness,
Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon,
penal statutes.
Revolt ! and still revolt! revolt !
What we believe in waits latent forever through all the
continents, and all the islands and archipelagos of
the sea;
What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing,
sits in calmness and light, is positive and composed,
knows no discouragement,
Waiting patiently, waiting its time.
When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first to go,
nor the second or third to go,
It waits for all the rest to go-it is the last.
When there are no more memories of heroes and martyrs,
COSMIC EMOTION
295
And when all life, and all the souls of men and women
• are discharged from any part of the earth,
Then only shall liberty, or the idea of liberty, be dis-
charged from that part of the earth,
And the infidel come into full possession." 1
So far our cosmic conception is external.
Starting with organic action, as that which has
affected the evolution of life and all the works
of life, we have found it to have the character
of freedom, or action from within, and in the
case of the social organism we have seen that
freedom is the organic action of society as such,
which is what we call the Republic. The
Republic is the visible embodiment and per-
sonification of freedom in its highest external
type.
But the Republic is itself still further
personified, in a way that leads us back with
new light to the conception of the internal
cosmos. The practice of band - work, or
comradeship, the organic action of society, has
so moulded the nature of man as to create in it
two specially human faculties—the conscience
and the intellect. Conscience is an instinctive
desire for those things which conduce to the
welfare of society ; intellect is an apparatus for
connecting sensation and action, by means of a
symbolic representation of the external world,
framed in common and for common purposes
1 Whitman, Leaves of Grass, p. 363.
296
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
by the social intercourse of men. Conscience
and reason form an inner core in the human
mind, having an origin and a nature distinct
from the merely animal passions and per-
ceptions; they constitute the soul or spirit of
man, the universal part in every one of us. In
these are bound up, embalmed and embodied,
all the struggles and searchings of spirit of the
countless generations which have made us what
we are. Action which arises out of that inner
core, which is prompted by conscience and guided
by reason, is free in the highest sense of all;
this at last is good in the ethical sense. And
yet, when we act with this most perfect freedom,
it may be said that it is not we that act, but
Man that worketh in us. He whose life is
habitually governed by reason and conscience
is the free and wise man of the philosophers of
all ages. The highest freedom, then, is identical
with the Spirit of Man-
" The earth-god Freedom, the lonely
Face lightening, the footprint unshod,
Not as one man crucified only
Nor scourged with but one life's rod;
The soul that is substance of nations,
Reincarnate with fresh generations ;
The great god Man, which is God.” 1
The social organism itself is but a part of
the universal cosmos, and like all else is subject
1 Swinburne, Songs before Sunrise.
297
to the uniformity of nature. The production
and distribution of wealth, the growth and
effect of administrative machinery, the education
of the race, these are cases of general laws
which constitute the science of sociology. The
discovery of exact laws has only one purpose
-the guidance of conduct by means of them.
The laws of political economy are as rigid as
those of gravitation ; wealth distributes itself as
surely as water finds its level. But the use we
have to make of the laws of gravitation is not
to sit down and cry “Kismet!" to the flowing
stream, but to construct irrigation works. And
the use which the Republic must make of the
laws of sociology is to rationally organise
society for the training of the best citizens.
Much patient practice of comradeship is
necessary before society will be qualified to
organise itself in accordance with reason. But
those who can read the signs of the times read
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF
SCIENCE1
THE jubilee meeting of German naturalists and
physicians at Munich last year (1877) was
marked by an incident which has deservedly
attracted attention in this country. Addresses
were delivered to the Association, among others,
by three very eminent men, and, as was natural
on such an occasion, each of them took the
form of a review of the situation of science at
this moment. Häckel, of Jena, led the way
by a discourse on the present position of the
evolution theory ; on the nature of the evidence
for various parts of it; the bearing of it upon
mental science or psychology, upon education,
and upon morals. He was followed by Nägeli
of Munich, “On the Limits of Natural Know-
ledge," who pointed out that we have a limited
number of senses, and that we cannot deal with
things which are too large, or too small, or too
far away, or with events which happened too
long ago; but that if we will be satisfied with
' 1 Nineteenth Century, April 1878.
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 299
such kind of knowledge as we can get, we do
really know something, and may come to know
a great deal more.
But the words most listened to and most
repeated were undoubtedly those of Virchow of
Berlin, “On the Liberty of Science in the
Modern State.” He recalled the early days of
the Association, when it had to meet in secret
for fear of the authorities; and he warned his
colleagues that their present liberty was not a
secure possession, that a reaction was possible,
and that they should endeavour to make sure
of the ground by a wise moderation, by a put-
ting forward of those things which are established
in the sight of all men, rather than of individual
opinions. He divided scientific doctrines into
those which are actually proved and perfectly
determined, which we may give out as real
science in the strictest sense of the word ; and
those which are still to be proved, but which, in
the meantime, may be taught with a certain
amount of probability, in order to fill up gaps
in our knowledge. Doctrines of the former
class must be completely admitted into the
scientific treasure of the nation, and must
become part of the nation itself; they must
modify the whole method of thinking. For an
example of such a doctrine he took the great.
increase in our knowledge of the eye and its
working which has come to us in recent times,
300
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
and the doctrine of perception founded upon it.
Things so well known as this, he said, must be
taught to children in the schools. "If the
theory of descent is as certain as Professor
Häckel thinks it is, then we must demand its
admission into the school, and this demand is
a necessary one." And this, even although
there is danger of an alliance between socialism
and the doctrine of evolution.
But, he went on to say, there are parts of
the evolution theory which are not yet estab-
lished scientific doctrines in the sense that they
ought to be taught dogmatically in schools.
Of these he specially named two: the sponta-
neous generation of living matter out of inorganic
bodies, without the presence of previously living
matter; and the descent of man from some
non-human vertebrate animal. These, he said,
are problems; we may think it ever so prob-
able that living matter has been formed out
of non-living matter, and that man has descended
from an ape-like ancestor ; we may fully expect
that evidence will shortly be forthcoming to
establish these statements; but meanwhile we
must not teach them as known and established
scientific facts. We ought to say, “Do not
take this for established truth, be prepared to
find that it is otherwise ; only for the moment
we are of opinion that it may be true.”
There is something, I think, very natural
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 301
and very charming in this scene. The young
apostle is full of faith and hope, he has fought
his way, undaunted by little stumbles and dis-
appointments, through great morasses of diffi-
culty, and always he has seen his gospel steadily
marching on to its triumphant subjugation of
the ideal world; and before this gospel accord-
ingly he summons the practical world to bow
down. “ Not so fast,” says the veteran, who,
in his time, indeed, has been bold enough, and
taken sober men's breath away ; but who now
marches with careful steps, and is conscious of
his balance. "Don't be quite so sure about it;
you will turn everything upside down." One
is glad that on a great occasion both sides had
their say, and that the word of caution came
last, being prompted by the word of courage ;
and one hopes that on all similar occasions
there may be courage enough to justify a like
word of caution.
It is also very natural that this speech should
have been a source of great relief and comfort
to many who did not want to believe in the
doctrine of descent, and who feared that, some-
how, they were going to be made to believe in
it. It seemed to them, in Dr. Tyndall's words,
that "the world—even the clerical world—had
for the most part settled down in the belief
that Mr. Darwin's book (The Origin of Species)
simply reflects the truth of nature"; and that,
302
LECTU
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
on the penalty of appearing somewhat singular,
they would have to settle down in the same
belief themselves. But here is a very eminent
scientific man who says he is not quite sure
about it; so the world, having only settled
down under the supposed weight of an authority
which it is not yet very fond of, begins to un-
settle itself again ; and one need not be at all
singular in saying that there is really nothing
in the doctrine of evolution, because it is not
yet supported by facts. Indeed, the world has
become so much impressed with the importance
of the rule that you should not teach as a known
fact that which is not a known fact, that we
may almost expect to hear a bishop declare
from his cathedral pulpit that the authorship
of the fourth gospel is a doubtful question, and
that a man would be rash who fully made up
his mind to ascribe it to the apostle John.
It may therefore not seem amiss in one who
is no biologist, who is therefore a layman in
regard to this question of organic evolution, if
he should endeavour to lay to heart the warn-
ings of Virchow, and inquire what practical
bearing they have on the state of things in our
own country. This is what I now propose to
do; but I shall confine myself in the main to
the question of school teaching. I speak as a
householder to householders, on this matter of
grave and common concern: what shall we
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 303
have taught to our children? Of all the
questions discussed in Virchow's speech, this
seems to me the most practical, and the most
interesting to us as a people.
For I do not think that we in England have
much cause to fear either a reaction which
shall stop the mouth of the scientific teacher,
or a socialist revolution founded on the doctrine
of descent. It is true that there are some
among us who seriously dislike “science," and
who look with dread and suspicion on the
teachers of it. I am not attaching importance
to the personalities of orthodox polemic, which,
having "no case," is compelled to "abuse the
plaintiff's attorney.” This symptom is of weight
only as a symptom, and as such is understood
by the intelligent public. But there are men
high in literature, in statesmanship, and in art,
whose good opinion, founded on knowledge,
every man of sense must count desirable, who
yet withhold that good opinion from the scientific
teacher and the work that he is doing. Not-
withstanding this fact, I have no fear that the
attitude of mind of these men will be intensified,
or will become more general ; because it seems
to me to be clearly traceable to two circum-
stances, both of which are disappearing. I
mean that there are faults on both sides, and
that both faults are being mended.
The first fault is on the side of the scientific
11
304
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
student; and yet it is not altogether his fault,
because it comes of the great change which is
passing over our educational system. We have
all been learning science--that is, organised
common sense--at school for some centuries,
and did not know what it was. But of recent
times our science has received enormous addi-
tions, partly new sense, partly fresh organised ;
and these have now to be taught. The first
generation of teachers of the new science could
naturally not learn it in places where the old
science, which we called a liberal education,
was to be learned. Some of them learned both,
with much labour, and searching, and picking
up out of stray corners; but some went with-
out a liberal education altogether. And perhaps
a few of these, when they found what a demand
there was for them and how important they
were, may have fallen into a mistake, and
taken their half- or quarter-culture for a whole
culture. Now when a man not only mistakes
his half- or quarter-culture for a whole culture,
but thinks that the culture which he does not
possess is silly and worthless, then people who
have received a liberal education are apt to
think him a bore. And it would be a hard
matter to prove them altogether in the wrong.
But this race, which bores a few and
educates the many, is patiently and surely
exterminating itself. As the new science makes
VIRCHOW .
TO
THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 305
AN
ON i
itself at home in the school-house of the old, as
it is more taught and in a more civilised
manner, the mind of the student balances itself,
and recovers its sense of proportion. Exact
observation goes naturally enough with justice
and simplicity of statement; the great induc-
tions of human life and feeling lighten up by
resemblance and contrast the great inductions
of physics. Dynamics and Prose Composition
have met together; Literature and Biology
have kissed each other. Perhaps not yet, but
the good time is coming. And in that time
every scientific teacher will have received such
a many-sided culture, and will be no longer a
bore to anybody. Above all, he will have
studied that History of Culture itself, which is
the great unifier and justifier and purifier of all
our teaching
The other fault is on the side of those who
dislike the new science ; it is the fault of being
profoundly ignorant of it. No public school
boy thinks a man uncanny because he knows
a great deal of Greek; no member of Parlia-
ment imagines that a careful study of ancient
history, or even a revolutionary view about
the Iliad, might become a dangerous ally of
socialism. It is because he has learned a little
Greek himself, and knows what it is like.
But if a man has morphology at his fingers'
ends, or is profound about organic radicles, that
VOL. II
306
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
is a man to beware of. There is no knowing
what theories he does not secretly foster. Or
else he is a mere impostor, and gets a great
reputation for pottering away at some silly
trifles, being really no better than an official in
the Herald's Office: so hinted some irreverent
young scapegrace in the prologue to the West-
minster Play. Now it is clear that a statesman
who thinks a decimal coinage means the keep-
ing of shilling and pence accounts in terms of
decimal fractions, or a musician who really sees
no difference between Graham Bell's telephone
and Wheatstone's telephonic concert, may well
be expected to misjudge exact students, and
their studies, and their aims. But in the good
time coming, when “there shall be no Member
of Parliament who does not know as much of
science as a scholar in one of our elementary
schools," when also benevolent old ladies may
be expected to know one end of a guinea-pig
from the other, all this will be changed. The
man of science will be no more uncanny than
the Greek scholar is now. And we may be
quite sure that the average Englishman is not
going to see a man bullied for merely knowing
a little more of what he himself learned a little
of at school. When he has learned a little
science himself, and knows what it is like,
he will have, it is true, a less superstitious
reverence for the authority of the investigator;
i
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 307
but then also he will regard him as a citizen,
having as good a right to be trusted and
respected, and to say his say upon matters of
common interest, as anybody else,
Such distrust or dislike of science, then, as
is to be found among us, is due to circumstances
which are rapidly disappearing, to misunder-
standings and imperfect training, and not to
that which alarmed our Prussian colleague, a
tendency in the expounders of scientific doctrine
to make too sure of things, to put forward as
known fact that which is not yet known fact,
but only conjecture. Indeed, our own scientific
teachers, notably Huxley and Tyndall, have
for years been impressing upon us this very
thing, by example and precept, in season and
out of season-if indeed it is possible for such
warning to be out of season. And to their
testimony I shall hope to return presently.
As to that other fear of Virchow's, that some
caricature of the true doctrine of evolution
may become a dangerous weapon in the hands
of the socialist, it is a thing somewhat difficult
for us to understand. We have a way of
suspecting that when socialism is dangerous,
somebody or other is being badly treated. We
can conceive that it should cause uneasiness to
a repressive and meddling protectionist Govern-
ment. But in this country, where it would
probably mean a kind of alliance between co-
308
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
operative stores and that very respectable
institution, the Metropolitan Board of Works,
we cannot undertake to be much alarmed
about it. Before any socialist measure could
enter into practical politics at all, it would have
so far to commend itself to the country as to
be supported by a considerable number of votes
in the House of Commons; and a measure
which can do that is a thing not to be
shuddered at, but to be calmly discussed.
What really remains for us to consider, then,
as of English interest, is, as I said before, that
question about the teaching of our children.
The principle laid down by Virchow I shall
assume as the basis of the discussion : we ought
not to teach to little children, as a known fact,
that which is not a known fact. And the
questions to be discussed are, in what respects
this canon is disobeyed or in danger of being
disobeyed : and what means we should adopt
that our system of teaching may be more
perfectly conformed to it. It seems to me that
the second question answers itself in the process
of considering the first one. I shall therefore
now proceed to those doctrines which, in
Virchow's view, are in danger of being taught
with an assurance which is in advance of the
actual evidence for them.
And first, let us consider that very important
doctrine of the descent of man from some non-
'YA
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 309
human ancestor. “There are, at this time, few
students of nature who are not of opinion that
man stands in some connection with the rest of
the animal world, and that such a connection
may possibly be discovered, if not with the apes,
yet perhaps, as Dr. Vogt now supposes, at some
other point." Notwithstanding this, Virchow
says: “We cannot teach, we cannot pronounce
it to be a conquest of science, that man
descends from the ape or any other animal."
He bases this decision upon the absence of
such evidence from palæontology in the case of
man as is found in the case of the horse. The
horse (asses and zebras being included under
this name) is a one-toed beast, thereby differing
from all other mammals ; but, as he has many
points showing relationship with them, it is
probable that he is descended from a five-toed
ancestor. The problem is to find this ancestor.
There is no trace of him in the quaternary
strata. If the naturalist were confined to the
evidence of those strata, and were not particu-
larly careful of his logic, he might "declare
that every positive advance which we have
made in the domain of prehistoric hippology
has actually removed us farther from the proof
of such a connection." The doctrine of the
descent of the horse from a five-toed ancestor
would, in fact, rest upon other grounds than
the actual discovery of the ancestral form.
310
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
But the ancestor of the horse has been
found in the tertiary strata. He has three
toes in the more recent strata, and four toes
in the earlier; and, curiously enough, the
complete series is found in America, where
there were no horses at the time of its discovery
by Europeans. Now Man, on the other hand,
is a complex-brained animal, differing in this
way and in some others from all other
mammals; but since in other respects his whole
structure shows relationship with them, and
especially with the apes, it is probable that he
is descended from an ancestor with a simpler
brain and a structure generally bearing more
resemblance to the common Simian type. The
problem is to find this ancestor. There is no
trace of him in the quaternary strata, because
the quaternary men are still men so far as their
bony structure is concerned, and we have no
evidence about the complexity of their brains,
the pointedness of their ears, or the hairy
covering of their bodies. Nor, as yet, has any
decisive discovery been made of the remains of
man, or of any sufficiently man-like animal to
count as his ancestor, in the tertiary strata.
Until we find the missing link, says Virchow,
the descent of man from an ape-like ancestor is
not a conquest of science. When we do find
the missing link, it will be a conquest of science.
It will naturally, I think, strike any one who,
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 311
though a layman, has gained a certain amount
of second-hand knowledge of this subject from
books, that in this view of the two cases the
evidence of fossils is made rather too much of,
while other kinds of evidence are wholly ignored.
It is a bold thing to criticise the judgment of a
pathologist upon general doctrines of biology,
when one is oneself not a biologist in any
respect. I will therefore shelter myself under
authority.
“When we confine our attention to any one.
form (says Darwin) we are deprived of the
weighty arguments derived from the nature of
the affinities which connect together whole
groups of organisms — their geographical dis-
tribution in past and present times, and their
geological succession. The homological struc-
ture, embryological development, and rudi-
mentary organs of a species, whether it be
man or any other animal, to which our attention
may be directed, remain to be considered ; but
these great classes of facts afford, as it appears
to me, ample and conclusive evidence in favour
of the principle of gradual evolution.” 1
For example, it happens that the missing
link between man and the anthropoids has not
yet been found; but there is a Miocene link
which bridges a greater gulf between two other
families of apes. So that kinds of evidence
i Preface to Descent of Man. 2 Descent of Man, i. 197.
312
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
may exist in regard to an order of animals
which are wanting in the case of an individual
family of the order. But both the general
analogy of Nature, and the three great classes
of facts considered by Darwin in the special
case of Man, are apparently reckoned by
Virchow as of no practical weight, until the
bones of the missing link are safe in the glass
cases of a geological museum. I say apparently,
because it would be insulting a great man to
suppose that he really held such an opinion,
which, moreover, is inconsistent with the preface
to the English translation of his speech. In
fact, this admirable speech, in so many ways
like that of a cabinet minister reassuring his
Opposition, contains more than one passage
which, especially when isolated and printed in
capitals, it is easy for the Opposition to interpret
in a sense more favourable to its own views
than that which the speaker had in his mind.
Not only, however, are important kinds of
evidence left out of count, but as it seems to
me--under guidance, as before--the cogency
of the evidence from fossils is somewhat over-
rated. We must be very careful not to be too
sure of these conclusions, lest we should teach
as established results of science what are, after
all, remote and precarious inferences.
“We must recollect (says Huxley) that any
human belief, however broad its basis, however
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 313
defensible it may seem, is, after all, only a
probable belief, and that our widest and safest
generalisations are simply statements of the
highest degree of probability. Though we are
quite clear about the constancy of the order of
Nature, at the present time, and in the present
state of things, it by no means necessarily
follows that we are justified in expanding this
generalisation into the infinite past, and in
denying absolutely, that there may have been a
time when Nature did not follow a fixed order,
when the relations of cause and effect were not
definite, and when extra-natural agencies inter-
fered with the general course of Nature." I
· The fact is, we are not absolutely and
theoretically certain that these old three-toed
and four-toed horse-bones were not made, on
purpose to deceive us, by the devil ; himself,
according to Cuvier, a horned and hoofed, and
therefore graminivorous animal, with more than
one toe on the hinder limb.2
This kind of tangible evidence, which gives
us something definite to lay hold of, is peculiarly
apt to produce conviction without being pro-
perly understood. "Is it really true that our
horses are descended from an ancestor with
TA
1 American Addresses, p. 3.
2 The devil is said to have appeared to Cuvier and threatened
to eat him. " Horns? Hoofs?” said Cuvier. "Graminivorous.
Can't eat me." "All flesh is grass," replied the devil, with that
fatal habit of misapplying Scripture which has always clung to
him.
314
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
three toes, who lived a long time ago?"
“Why, of course it is; here's his hock.” It is
something like what occurs in the stage-plays,
when somebody rushes in to the hero and says :
“Take these papers and guard them carefully ;
they prove that you are a prince.” The sight
of the bundle neatly done up in red tape
produces conviction in a moment. But we
subsequently reflect that it may be a somewhat
delicate and difficult matter to prove by the
aid of papers that a man is himself or anybody
else ; and that there are other methods of estab-
lishing personal identity, which are not less
valid in the courts.
I am not disparaging this palæontological
evidence for the descent of the horse, or saying
a word inconsistent with Huxley's conclusion
that it is demonstration, in the only sense in
which demonstration can apply to an historical
fact. What I wish to point out is that it
contains many steps of reasoning which are
rather difficult to the apprehension of any one
who is not a specialist, and which involve con-
siderations somewhat abstract and remote from
the tangible facts on which they are founded.
The succession of strata in time, and the mode
of their deposition, especially the relations of
European strata with American ; these, and
some other doctrines of geology, are involved
in the argument. Now, however certain they
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 315
may be, the evidence upon which they are
established is circumstantial and remote. It is
easy enough to the geologist, who is accustomed
to it, but it does require special study to master
it fully. And there is no trace whatever of
these difficulties in the statement “Here's his
hock.” Convincing as that statement is, it
does not carry along with the conviction a fair
estimate of the evidence on which it is based.
With this consideration in mind, let us
compare again the evidence for the descent of
man with that for the descent of the horse.
The generation of men of any given race now
existing is descended from parents who on the
average differed imperceptibly from themselves.
This has not gone on for ever, because physical
evidence proves a beginning to the present
state of the earth. Were the first men also the
offspring of parents who differed imperceptibly
from themselves, yet so that the imperceptible
difference came just where we draw the line
between man and not - man? Such a line
would of course be arbitrary, but we may
suppose a certain hundred generations, the
change in each being imperceptible, but still
such that we should call the first not-men and
the last men. This is the supposition of a
non-human ancestor, as made by the evolutionist.
If this supposition is rejected, the first men
may have originated (1) from parents differing
316
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
largely from them in structure ; (2) from non-
living matter, or (3) from non-existence, being
men from the moment they began to be. We
are not bound to make any supposition at all
about the origin of the first men ; but if we
do make any supposition, it must be one of
these.
Suppose, however, that we want not merely
to make a supposition, but to infer from the
facts before us what actually happened. Then
we must make the assumption that there is
some sort of uniformity in nature. Without
this we cannot infer at all, for inference consists
in transferring the experience which we have
had under certain conditions to events hap-
pening under like conditions, of which we have
not had experience. It is true that we cannot
be absolutely sure of the uniformity of nature,
or that our present conception of it is right:
but still it is the only thing we have to go
upon. Human knowledge is never absolutely
and theoretically certain, but a great deal of it
is practically certain, which is all we want.
Now the production of man from non-living
matter, or the coming of any kind of matter
into existence out of nothing, are things so
entirely without parallel in our existing experi-
ence that we cannot infer them unless our
experience entirely changes its character. If
clay or mould would form itself into a human
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 317
body a few times, we might learn something
about the conditions under which such a trans-
formation takes place, which would enable us to
infer that it had taken place before. If matter
would occasionally come into existence out of
nothing, we might say what kind of matter was
most likely to do such a thing ; whether buttons
or sovereigns were most gifted with this faculty,
and so on. But even so, some time must elapse
before we could infer, because our whole con-
ception of the order of things would be turned
topsy-turvy.
If, therefore, we are to infer anything at all
about the origin of the first men, we must infer
that they descended from non-human ancestors.
What sort of ancestors these were is, in the
present state of knowledge, matter of conjecture
merely. To guide this conjecture, we have
“the homological structure, embryological
development, and rudimentary organs” of
existing men. The evidence of this kind set
forth by Darwin seems to point with very
great probability to an ancestor more ape-like
than man. Still these indications are not so
clear and unmistakable that a less ape- like
ancestor, as Vogt supposes, would be incon-
sistent with the uniformity of nature. We are
dealing with a long series of similar events,
the descent of each successive generation from
one very like it; and though each event is an
T
UTY
318
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
example of what occurs habitually in our experi-
ence, yet the effect of the whole series of such
events is something of which we can only get
knowledge by means of palæontological evi-
dence. We can only, therefore, infer with a
very moderate amount of probability that men
are descended from this sort of animal or that
sort of animal. This is the point which will
be set at rest by the missing link. But I
venture to think that the evidence for the
descent of man from some non-human ancestor
will be but very slightly strengthened by that
discovery ; and that it is now not perceptibly
less cogent than that for the descent of the
horse.
For observe that each alike depends on the
assumption of the uniformity of Nature. That
being given, the descent of man follows from
the originally fluid condition of the earth,
proved by physical observation and reasoning,
Failing that, the evidence for the descent of
the horse vanishes into thin air. It is not the
least bit more likely that man arose out of the
dust of the earth than that the devil made
the American horse-bones. Worse than this,
quaternary man goes too. “Quaternary man,"
says Virchow, "is no longer a problem, but a
real doctrine.” But how do you know that the
devil did not make the fossil men and all the
flint implements ? This also is quite as likely
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 319
as that a human body was ever formed by the
direct transformation of non-living matter.
“Well then," I hear my anxious friend say, with
a sigh of relief, "we need not believe even in
the antiquity of man, or the evolution of horses.
They are all doubtful together.” My good
soul, no student of science wants you to believe
anything unless you understand the nature of
the evidence for it, and then only to the extent
which is warranted by the evidence. There is
no occasion for you to form an opinion about
these questions. You need have no fear of
being singular. There is always the defence
of the ensign who was asked if he had seen
Punch: "Well, you know, the fact is, I am not
a reading man." But if you wish to form an
opinion, there are many excellent manuals in
which you may learn the nature of the evidence
and the methods of reasoning on which such
an opinion should be based. If your opinion
should be adverse to the views held by other
scientific students, you will do great service by
stating your objections. Do not suppose for a
moment that we want you to believe on any
other terms.
But what we do hope; for your sake, is
this : that you will not allow any dishonest
person to persuade you to disbelieve strongly
in the doctrine of evolution, because Virchow
has admitted that certain parts of it are not yet
320
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
absolutely proved. It is one thing to believe
that a doctrine is false, and quite another thing
to admit a theoretical doubt about it.
I say a theoretical doubt, because it is a
doubt founded on the necessary imperfection
of all human knowledge, and not on any
practical defect of the evidence. For a doubt
precisely similar in kind, though rather greater
in degree, attaches to the statement that the
Russians took Plevna last year. The evidence
for the truth of the statement is, I admit, very
strong, and I suppose no sane man would be
disposed to question it for a moment. We
have the testimony of all the newspaper corre-
spondents, the course of subsequent events, the
special information of the Government, and
literally a whole army of witnesses besides.
Still, the Russians may have been one and all
under a continuous hallucination, and be even
now in imminent danger from Osman Pasha.
Or those rascally papers may have laid their
heads together to deceive the whole British
nation, down to this hour. Either of these sup-
positions is a great deal more likely than that
the devil made the old horse-bones, or that clay
was transformed into a human body. To be
sure, they contradict our experience of the
uniformities of human action to such an extent
that we cannot seriously entertain them. But
the uniformities of human faction are known
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 321
with far less accuracy and completeness than
the uniformities which characterisé the genera-
tion of living bodies. One man under an
hallucination is common enough; one news-
paper wrong in its facts is well within our
experience. So that we have something to
go upon in conceiving a widespread delusion.
But a man without any mother at all, a real
son of the soil, is a thing our experience gives
us no help towards conceiving.
If you went to a man of the world with
this doubt about Plevna, urging upon him that
newspapers were often mistaken, and begging
him to consider it in buying stocks, he would
either take you for a lunatic and humour your
fancy, or he would say: "Don't be so silly ; I
have no patience with you." But the student
of science is obliged to have a great deal of
patience, and desires to have more.
It seems, then, that the difference between
the doctrines of the descent of horses and of the
descent of men is not that one is a known fact
and the other a conjecture, because each of
them is practically as certain as such a doctrine
can be, though subject to the theoretical doubt
which attaches to all human knowledge. And
yet there certainly is a great difference between
the highly abstract and general considerations
which go to establish the one, and the more
concrete, but still rather difficult, arguments
VOL. II
322
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
which prove the other. The evidence in the
two cases appeals to two different classes of
minds. The inference from a modern horse-
bone to the horse whose bone it was is a toler-
ably easy one, which can be brought home to
many minds. From a fossil bone to the ancient
animal is a more remote inference, which was
at first made with considerable difficulty ; yet
still any person of ordinary intelligence may be
expected to grasp it. Then the geological
inferences, from stratified rocks to the sea or
river which deposited them, from successive
position to successive age, and so on, may have
their way smoothed by concrete examples so
as to carry their due weight without much
mental strain. The biological inferences which
connect the modern horse with his fossil repre-
sentative, based on the structure of correspond-
ing parts and the development of the colt,
involve reasoning of a rather more abstract
kind. “But the whole of this evidence may be
fairly presented to a mind which is still incom-
petent to form that general conception of the
uniformity of nature which makes the directly
inorganic origin of man a supposition not to be
seriously entertained for a moment. To grasp
the idea of any law of nature requires a con-
siderable effort of abstraction, and that the idea
may be of any real use it must be founded on
acquaintance with the facts that come under
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 323
the law. The general conception of law which
is contravened by the supposition in question
has to be abstracted from a knowledge of many
different laws, dynamical, physical, chemical,
biological. This conception, therefore, implies
a very wide and many-sided training in facts,
a very deep and thorough training in logic, as
its foundation. Much education is required to
enable the learner really to estimate the evi-
dence for the many-toed horse ; much more is
wanted for the clear comprehension of the
evidence for the simpler-brained man.
Here the education question, which has been
underlying our whole discussion, is brought to
the front. It is clear that the evidence for
these doctrines cannot be taught until a late
period in education. What are we to do in
the earlier periods ? Shall we say: "Horses
had three-toed and four-toed ancestors; by and
by you will learn how this was found out. We
think, but are not quite sure, that men had
simpler-brained ancestors; by and by you will
learn why we think so ?”
It seems to me that this is the very worst
thing we can do; that if we say this, we shall
not only confuse the child's head at the time
with abstractions which it is impossible that he
should really grasp, but we shall effectually
prevent him from learning them properly in
the future. The true rule, I believe, is this:
324
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Before teaching any doctrine, wait until the nature
of the evidence for it can be understood.
This appears at first sight a very hard thing
to do. Yet it is really involved in Pestalozzi's
great principle that children should be made
to find out things for themselves. To make
clearer the reasons for it, I will consider a case
which has the advantage of not being at the
present moment in controversy ; the case of
the teaching of chemistry. Suppose we were
to begin teaching chemistry by saying that
carbon is made up of atoms which have four
hooks or hands by which they can hold on to
other atoms; that oxygen atoms have two
hooks, and hydrogen atoms one. Consequently
we can hook two hydrogen atoms to an oxygen
atom, and this makes water; or we can hook
two oxygen atoms to a carbon atom, making
carbonic acid ; or we can hook four hydrogen
atoms to a carbon atom, making marsh-gas.
Then we should utterly confuse the learner's
mind, and prevent him from learning chemistry
afterwards. These statements belong to the
doctrine of atomicities. Nobody doubts that
these statements represent, in highly metaphori-
cal language, real facts of chemical action ;
only Sir Benjamin Brodie says that since the
hydrogen atoms occur always in even numbers
in compounds made of carbon, oxygen, and
hydrogen, we ought to fasten them together in
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 325
1
pairs, and call each pair an atom with two
hooks. What sort of thing we should find, if
we knew all about these atoms, answering to the
metaphor of the hooks, nobody knows. With-
out a knowledge of the facts which they
symbolise, these statements are mere useless
nonsense in anybody's mind. They are worse
than useless ; for they make him think he
knows the facts, and so prevent him from really
getting to know them.
On the other hand, we may follow Dr.
Williamson's method, show the children how to
make carbonic acid, and then pour it on a
candle to put it out; burn hydrogen to produce
water, and so forth. When a few of the
commoner substances are real things to them,
whose properties they are familiar with, they
may learn to weigh and measure. Then the
law of definite proportions becomes legitimate
teaching, and the law of gaseous volumes. It
is only necessary to verify these in a few cases,
that the nature of the evidence for them may
be understood.
Here arises a typical question. How, at
this point, shall we deal with the doctrine
of molecules ? The chemical evidence for
it may now be clearly understood; but the
chemical evidence leaves it still a hypothesis.
It becomes quite clear that the hypothesis
explains the facts, and links them together :
326
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
but it does not become clear that no other
hypothesis will explain the facts. I think
there is every reason why it should be taught
as a hypothesis ; there are materials in the
pupil's mind for estimating the value of the
hypothesis in making the facts clear to him,
and also for understanding why, at present, it
at this stage, no great harm will be done by
telling him that when he has learned enough
about heat and motion, he will find the hypo-
thesis turned into a demonstrated fact.
The doctrine of atomicities depends upon
the various combinations of the same set of
elements with one another. The facts on
which it is based may be described without
introducing any totally new conceptions; the
nature of the evidence for it may therefore be
understood by a pupil at this stage, without
1
speaking of the training of a specialist, but of
that which should form a part of general culture.
Of these two methods of teaching, there can
be no doubt that the latter will commend
itself to the common sense of every reasonable
man. It insures that the pupil shall learn to
do things, that is, either to deal practically with
certain objects, or to use in thinking certain
conceptions ; not to think he knows things
of which he is really ignorant. And all the
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 327
1
time it cultivates a habit of accepting beliefs
on the strength of the evidence for them, of
preferring true and honest knowledge to sham
knowledge. And it secures us against the
teaching, as known fact, of that which is not
known fact. The only danger in this respect is
in the doctrine of molecules ; and here we must
impress very carefully on our teachers that
they should not miss the important lesson in
logic and in scientific procedure involved in the
conception of a hypothesis, and in recognising
the imperfection of the evidence which fails to
exclude all other hypotheses.
Now let us go back from this chemical
doctrine of atomicities to the doctrine of evolu-
tion. In what form shall we have the doctrine
of evolution taught to our children ? Certainly
not as a dogma to be accepted on the authority
of the teacher, evidence for which may be forth-
coming afterwards. Certainly not at all until
our children are competent to understand the
nature of the evidence for it. Certainly not,
therefore, first in its most general form, and
afterwards in special applications ; but first in
those special cases where the evidence is of the
simplest kind, most closely related to the facts ;
and then, as a consequence of the comparison
of these cases, the general doctrine may suggest
itself.
Nevertheless, the teacher, knowing what is
328
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
to come in the end, may so select the portions
of various subjects which he teaches at an
earlier stage that they shall supply in a later
stage a means of understanding and estimating
the evidence on some question of evolution.
He may, for instance, pay special attention to
hands and feet when he is teaching biology,
because these parts are of great importance in
the questions of the evolution of the horse and
of the relationship of man with the apes. Or
in teaching sociology, which is all about papa
and mamma, clothes, houses, shops, policemen,
halfpence, and such like, he may specially single
out those points in which civilised folk differ
from barbaric and savage folk, in order to
prepare the way for the historic and pre-
historic evidence which proves that we are a
risen race and not a fallen one. In other cases
the doctrine of evolution may guide the teacher
in his methods. So much as the psychologist
may already infer with safety about the evolu-
tion of mind, will lead him to found all abstract
notions on previously formed concrete ones ; to
build his houses out of carefully made bricks,
instead of trying to pull bricks out of castles in
the air. And he will endeavour to give clear-
ness and solidity to the dawning moral sense
by leading to the easy observation that the
affairs of the nursery or the Kindergarten
cannot go on unless we tell the truth and let
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 329
alone other folk's things. The affairs should of
course be such that a failure in them would
seem to the child a calamity too portentous to
be thought about.
In fact, as Häckel says, the effect of the
doctrine of evolution upon teaching and the
methods of teaching cannot fail to be enormous
and widespread, quite independently of the direct
teaching of any portions of the doctrine itself.
Let us now go on to examine, in respect
of their fitness for education, certain other
doctrines mentioned by Virchow; taking next
the doctrine of Spontaneous Generation.
“If you ask me (says Tyndall) whether
there exists the least evidence to prove that
any form of life can be developed out of matter
independently of antecedent life, my reply is
that evidence considered directly conclusive by
many has been adduced, and that were we to
follow a common example and accept testimony
because it falls in with our belief, we should
eagerly close with the evidence referred to.
But there is in the true man of science a desire
stronger than the wish to have his beliefs
upheld ; namely, the desire to have them true.
And this stronger wish causes him to reject the
most plausible support, if he has reason to
suspect that it is vitiated by error. Those to
whom I refer as having studied this question,
believing the evidence offered in favour of
330
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
spontaneous generation' to bė thus vitiated,
cannot accept it. They know full well that the
chemist now prepares from inorganic matter a
vast array of substances, which were some time
ago regarded as the sole products of vitality.
They are intimately acquainted with the
structural power of matter, as evidenced in the
phenomena of crystallisation. They can justify
scientifically their belief in its potency, under
the proper conditions, to produce organisms.
But in reply to your question, they will frankly
admit their inability to point to any satisfactory
experimental proof that life can be developed,
save from demonstrable antecedent life.” 1
What is the justification for this belief that
non-living matter can, under proper conditions,
produce organisms?
There is a substance ealled acetylene, the
molecule of which is made of two atoms of
carbon, holding together by two hooks from
each, and four atoms of hydrogen each holding
on by its one hook to a carbon atom. It
is made by driving hydrogen between the
tremendously hot carbon points of an electric
light; directly, therefore, from the elements.
If we make acetylene pass through a red-hot
tube, we shall get what is called benzene. A
molecule of benzene is a game of round-the-
mulberry-tree played by six carbon atoms, each
Belfast Address.
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 331
one holding by two hooks to its right-hand
neighbour and one to its left, while it keeps the
remaining hook for a hydrogen atom. It is
therefore made of three molecules of acetylene,
each of which has dropped two hydrogen
atoms in order to join hands with the other
two molecules. How does this molecule of
benzene get made out of the three molecules
of acetylene ?
There are two answers. If anybody likes
to assert that benzene can never be made out
of acetylene without the presence of pre-existing
benzene, it is impossible to disprove his state-
ment. We should have no means of discovering
the presence of two or three molecules of
benzene vapour in the original hydrogen that
we made the acetylene of. It is known that
the first step is often a difficulty in the forma-
tion of chemical compounds, and that when the
process has once begun, the new compound has
the property of assisting the formation of its
like. Nobody knows why this is.
No chemist, however, will, as a matter of
fact, make this supposition about benzene. It
is generally held that the benzene molecule is
formed by the collision of three acetylene
molecules in favourable positions. This collision
is a coincidence. Each molecule meets another
molecule many millions of times in a second ;
but I am not aware that anybody has calculated
332
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
the number of times it meets two other mole-
cules at once. We must know a great deal
more of the constitution of atoms before we
can calculate what proportion of these triple
collisions is favourable to the formation of a
benzene molecule ; but there can be no doubt
that the coincidence takes place an enormous
number of times per second in every cubic
centimetre of the gas, because a perceptible
quantity of benzene is obtained.
There is another substance which can be
made out of six carbon atoms and six hydrogen
atoms, by fastening them together in a different
way. I forget the name of it, but it is an
unstable and explosive substance, which breaks
itself up on the slightest provocation. We do
not find this mixed up with the benzene,
although the coincidence which formed it may
have occurred quite as often as that which
formed benzene. It becomes extinct because
it is not adapted to the conditions.
On the other hand, we do find some more
complex compounds mixed up with the benzene.
These may have been partly made by collision
of benzene molecules with acetylene molecules :
partly by coincidences of a more elaborate
character, such as the collision of four or five
acetylene molecules. These are all stable ;
that is to say, they are suited to the conditions,
and therefore they survive.
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 333
Observe, then, that in this very simple case
of the formation of an organic body (in large
quantities benzene is always prepared from
coal-tar) it is produced by a coincidence, and
preserved by natural selection.
If we take thirteen carbon atoms instead of
six, and combine them only in the simplest
ways, so as to form an open chain with branches,
it has been calculated by Cayley that 799
compounds are possible. How many of these
are stable at a given pressure and temperature
nobody knows. In a gaseous mixture of
paraffins, the coincidence necessary to form each
one of them may occur many thousand times a
second. Only those can survive which are
stable under the given conditions. Such
natural selection determines, for example, the
compound ethers which go to make up the
flavour of a pear.
Now those persons who believe that living
matter, such as protein, arises out of non-living
matter in the sea, suppose that it is formed
like all other chemical compounds. That is to
say, it originates in a coincidence, and is pre-
served by natural selection. Only in this case
the coincidence is of the most elaborate and
complex character. I once saw an estimate of
the number of carbon atoms in a molecule
of albumen. I cannot now lay my hands
on the book in which I found it, but there
334
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
were three figures in it. I do not believe, on
the strength of that estimate, that there are
over a hundred carbon atoms in a molecule of
albumen ; because, from the nature of the
substance, I cannot imagine any evidence on
which it might be securely founded. But there
can be no doubt that all the forms of living
matter are enormously complex in chemical
constitution. Now there may, of course, be
half-way houses, less complex forms out of
which they may be built up, just as acetylene
forms a half-way house to benzene. Still, the
coincidence involved in the formation of a
molecule so complex as to be called living,
must be, so far as we can make out, a very
elaborate coincidence. How often does it
happen in a cubic mile of sea-water? Perhaps
once a week; perhaps once in many centuries ;
perhaps also, many million times a day. From
this living molecule to a speck of protoplasm
visible in the microscope is a very far cry ;
involving, it may be, a thousand years or so of
evolution. Possibly, however, the molecule has
from the beginning that power which belongs
to other chemical bodies, and certainly to itself
when existing in sensible masses, of assisting
the formation of its like. Once started, how-
ever, there it is ; the spontaneous generation,
believed in as a possibility by the evolutionist,
has taken place,
1
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 335
Why then do the experiments all “go
against" spontaneous generation ? What the
experiments really prove is that the coincidence
which would form a Bacterium--already a
definite structure reproducing its like-does
not occur in a test-tube during the periods yet
observed. Such a coincidence is the nearest
thing to a “special creation” that can be dis-
tinctly conceived. The experiments have
nothing whatever to say to the production of
enormously simpler forms, in the vast range
of the ocean, during the ages of the earth's
existence.
Allowing that this makes the thing possible,
does it give any reason for believing that it has
actually taken place ? We might get a direct
demonstration if we knew the constitution of
protein, and could calculate the chances of the
coincidence which would lead to its formation
in the sea. But on the other hand we have an
argument precisely like that which we used in
the case of the descent of man. We know
from physical reasons that the earth was once
in a liquid state from excessive heat. Then
there could have been no living matter upon it.
Now there is. Consequently non-living matter
has been turned into living matter somehow.
We can only get out of spontaneous generation
by the supposition made by Sir W. Thomson,
in jest or earnest, that some piece of living
336
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
matter came to the earth from outside, perhaps
with a meteorite. I wish to treat all hypotheses
with respect, and to have no preferences which
are not entirely founded on reason; and yet,
whenever I contemplate this
“simpler protoplastic shape,
Which came down in a fire-escape,"
an internal monitor, of which I can give no
rational account, invariably whispers “Fiddle-
sticks!”
I think, however, that the nature of the
evidence which makes spontaneous generation
probable is such that we cannot teach it in
schools except to very advanced pupils. And
the same thing may be said of the doctrine of
evolution as a whole, regarded as involving
the nebular hypothesis.
“Those who hold (says Tyndall) the doctrine
of evolution are by no means ignorant of the
uncertainty of their data, and they only
yield to it a provisional assent. They regard
the nebular hypothesis as probable, and in
the utter absence of any proof of the
illegality of the act, they prolong the method
of nature from the present into the past.
Here the observed uniformity of nature is
their only guide. Having determined the ele-
ments of their curve in a world of observation
and experiment, they prolong that curve into
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 337
an antecedent world, and accept as probable
the unbroken sequence of development from
the nebula to the present time.”
When I was seven or eight years old, I came
across an article in Chambers' Journal upon
Plateau's experiments with rotating oil-drops,
and their bearing on the nebular hypothesis. I
was highly delighted with this, and made notes
of it on the fly-leaves of a book of Bible stories.
My notion was that creation was precisely a
large Plateau's experiment. Now I am pretty
sure that this unfortunate circumstance retarded
my knowledge of the nebular hypothesis by
some years, because it gave me an idea that I
knew all about it already.
Besides the nebular hypothesis, there are
other doctrines about the origin of the world
which it seems undesirable to have taught to
our children. One is an account of a wet
beginning of things, after which the waters
dry land appeared underneath. Plants, and
animals, and men, were successively formed by
the word of a deity enthroned above the canopy.
Another account is of a dry beginning of things,
namely a garden, subsequently watered by a
mist, in which there were no plants until a man
was put there to till it. This man was made from
1 See that admirable book, The Bible for Young People
(Williams and Norgate, 1873). ,-
VOL. II
338
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
thedustoftheground by a deity, who walked about
on the earth, and had divine associates, jealous
of the man for sharing their privilege of knowing
good from evil, and fearful that he would gain
that of immortality also. The deity had taken
a rib out of the man, and made a woman of it.
I do not see that we should mind the teach-
ing of these stories, so long as others are taught
along with them, such as that of the Chaldee God
Bel, who cut off his head, moistened the clay with
his blood, and then made men out of it ; or of
the Gods of our own race, Odin, Vale, and Ve,
who walked about the earth until they found
two trees, one of which they made into a man,
and the other into a woman; or of Deucalion
and Pyrrha, who threw stones over their heads,
which became men and women. As soon as
ever they can understand them children may
be taught the reasons why the first two stories
are quite different from the others, and, though
contradictory, both of them true ; as, for
example, the nature of the evidence which
connects or disconnects the stories with Moses,
and which proves that Moses could have known
anything about the origin of the world. But
we ought not, I think, to allow either of these
stories to be taught to our children as a known
fact. It will be better to prepare them that
they may by and by understand the attitude of
the lover of truth towards these problems.
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 339
“If you ask him whence is this matter'
... who or what divided it into molecules,
and impressed upon them this necessity of
running into organic forms, he has no answer.
Science is mute in reply to such questions.
But if the materialist is confounded, and science
is rendered dumb, who else is prepared with
an answer? Let us lower our heads and
acknowledge our ignorance, priest and philo-
sopher, one and all.
“His (the scientific man's) refusal of the
creative hypothesis is less an assertion of
knowledge than a protest against the assump-
tion of knowledge which must long, if not for
ever, lie beyond us, and the claim to which is
the source of perpetual confusion upon earth.” 1
I do not propose to discuss here those
difficult questions which were raised by Häckel
and Nägeli about the relation of body and
mind; because I hope soon to have an oppor-
tunity of dealing with them separately. But
in regard to the teaching in schools of abstract
and general conclusions derived from this
branch of science still so very imperfect, so
much in the air, it seems to me that Virchow
has spoken with the utmost practical wisdom.
The basis of it, indeed, the one point of firm
ground on which the structure of mind-and-
body lore can be built, is fully suited for teach-
Tyndall, Fragments, pp. 421, 548.
340
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
ing, as Virchow himself has pointed out. The
theory of the eye, slowly elaborated from
Lionardo to Kepler, from Kepler to Helmholtz,
and the doctrine of perception founded upon it,
these supply a safe foundation for whatever
more may come. But the Plastidule-soul can
take no harm by waiting awhile, until we are
a little more clear about what we mean by it.
And this same judgment applies necessarily
to another abstract and general conclusion from
an unproved doctrine about body and mind;
the conclusion that a man's consciousness
survives the decay of his body. Such a con-
clusion can be at best, in the present state of
knowledge, a hope, a conjecture, an aspiration ;
it can have no claim to be regarded as a known
fact. Those who hold to it may think it
highly probable, they may strongly desire that
it should be true, they may eagerly expect that
better evidence will shortly be forthcoming ;
but they cannot be justified in teaching it to
little children as a known fact. Of such a
doctrine, surely, if of any doctrine, we ought
to say: “Do not take this for established truth;
be prepared to find that it is otherwise; only
for the moment we are of opinion that it may
possibly be so."
And in this case the reasons for such caution
are deeper and stronger than the merely intel-
lectual ones, because of the vast hold of this
VIRCHOW ON THE TEACHING OF SCIENCE 341
doctrine upon the hearts, and its serious in-
fluence upon the actions, of men. You, who
teach it to your children, do so from the highest
of motives, because you believe that it will in-
fluence their character for good, and strengthen
them in the course of right conduct. But there
are two things which you should carefully
consider. The first is, that by teaching the
doctrine too early you weaken its effect, be-
cause you teach it while it can be only half
realised, and so prevent it from being realised
afterwards. Dr. Martineau testifies to the
greater power of a belief in immortality gained
by the believer for himself, and strengthening
a moral sense which has been formed on a
different basis. Teach your children to do
good and to eschew.evil'; if in later life they can
find hope of an eternity of such action, it will
make them happier and may make them better.
But the experience of centuries condemns the
practice of teaching the doctrine to little
children, so as to make it familiar as an ill-
understood conception, to weaken the power it
might have for good, and to help the perversion
of it to superstitious uses.
The second point to be considered is the
frightful loss and disappointment you prepare
for your child if, as is most probable in these
days, he becomes convinced that the doctrine
is founded on insufficient evidence. It is not
342
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
merely that you have brought him up as a
prince, to find himself a pauper at eighteen.
He may have allowed this doctrine to get inex-
tricably intertwined with his feelings of right
and wrong. Then the overthrow of one will,
at least for a time, endanger the other. You
leave him the sad task of gathering together
the wrecks of a life broken by disappointment,
and wondering whether honour itself is left to
him among them. Leave him free of this
doctrine, and his conscience will rest upon its
true base, safe against all storms; for it is built
upon a rock. Then he can never reproach you
with raising hopes in him which knowledge is
fated to blast, and with them, it may be, to
blast the promise of his life.
INDEX
Acetylene, composition of, ii. 330 | Bain, Professor Alexander, on
Action, organic, nature of, ii. the meaning of cause, i. 173
286 sqq.
on à priori knowledge of
Acts, voluntary and involuntary, universal truths, i. 332
132 sqq.
Beale, Dr., theory of germinal
Adams, J. C., his discovery of matter, ii. 291 1.
Neptune, i. 142
Belief, the ethics of, ii. 163 sqg.
Adaptation, i. 165
ii. 173
inquiry, duty of, ii. 163 sqq.
Agassiz, Louis, on evolution, cannot be separated from
i. 94
action it suggests, ii. 163
Age, spirit of the, i. 84 599. influence of, on actions of
Air, composition of, i. 184
believer, ii. 168
aerial motion, i. 200
concerns the community, ii.
Algeria, Clifford's visit to, i. 63 I69
Alhambra, the, impressions of, false and unworthy, evils of,
1. 74
Amoba, assumption of low form Milton on, ii. 175
of consciousness in, ij. 38 Mahometanism, ii. 179 sqq.
Ampère, A. M., on magnetism, Buddhism, ii. 186
i. 284, 285
So - called divine missions
Animism, ii. 7
cannot be verified, ii. 187
Arithmetic, universal, state statements not capable of
ments of, i. 388 sqq.
verification not acceptable,
Astronomy, distinction between ii. 188 sqq.
technical and scientific the limits of inference, ii.
thought in, i. 142
198 599.
“Atom," meaning of, i. 182, historical inferences, ii. 202,
215
203
Atomic motion and vibration, (and see Religion)
i. 184 sqq., 286
Beneficence, conception of, ii.
Atomism, i. 1.88, 223; ii. 114,
194
II6
Benzine, composition of, ii. 330
Atoms, the ultimate forms of, i. Berkeley, G., Clifford's opinion
275, 278
of, i. 49
344
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Berkeley, G., continued
Change, continued
theory of idealism, i. 342, the evolution hypothesis, i.
599. ; ii. 119
89, 93-96
Bernouilli, Daniel, on the mole necessary for virile existence
cular theory of matter, i. 228 of race, i. 116, 117
Bible, the. See Religion
Character, individual, constant
Biology, application of scientific changes in, i. 81, 84 599.
thought to, i. 146
determined by mental sensa-
Body. See Matter
tions, ii. 23
Boundaries, nature of, i. 361 influences general approba-
and space, i. 366-369
tion or dislike, ii. 83
Boyle, R., his discovery con methods of punishment
cerning gas pressure, i. 209 generally directed to in-
Brain, the, consciousness of, i. provement of, ii. 90
57, 292 ; ii. 9
Chemistry, the teaching of, ii.
Professor Huxley on, ii. 9 - 324
transmission of nerve mes| Church. See Religion
sages to, l. 340
Clausius, Rudolf, researches in
structure of, ii. 9 sqq.
the molecular theory of
mind does not exist without, matter, i. 228
ii. 45
Clifford, W. K.-
changes in, parallel to changes birth and early life, i. 6
in consciousness, ii. 61, 66 his fondness for gymnastics,
action of, partly made up of i. 7
objective facts, ii. 66
historical studies, i. 9
evolution of consciousness in, literary style, i. 10
ii. 70
lectures, i. 10
Brodie, Sir Benjanin, on the knowledge of languages, i.
composition of hydrogen, II
i. 219; ii. 324
lecture on Dr. Whewell, i. 12
Buddha, his claims to a divine apologue of the Trilobites, i.
mission, ii. 186
13
mathematical course at Cam-
Camphor, movements of, in bridge, i. 15
water, i. 167
second wrangler, i. 16
Causation, law of, i. 313
Professor Sylvester on, i.
"Cause," use of the word, ii. 60
16
Cause and effect, i. 170 sqq. Professor Clerk Maxwell on,
Cayley, A., contributions to the i. 17
science of number, i. 391 ; liking for imaginary geometry,
ii. 333
i. 18
Change, distinction between Fellow of Trin. Coll. Cam-
changes in animate and bridge, i. 19
inanimate things, i. 88
Professor of Applied Mathe-
in mind and in animate ob. matics, Univ. Coll. London,
jects, analogy between, i. 891
i. 19
INDEX
345
Clifford, W. K., continued | Comet, Encke's, movement of,
elected F.R.S., i. 19
i. 262
marriage, i. 20
Comets, absurd theories about,
affection for children, i. 22
ii. 3
love of truth, i. 24
Community, meaning of, ii. 153
health gives way, i. 26
moral allegiance to, ii. 158
goes to the Mediterranean, i. Comte, Auguste, on the function
: 28
of humanity, ii. 154
dislike to letter-writing, i. 29 Conscience, based on allegiance
return to England, i. 30
to the community, ii. 81
relapse, i. 30
599., 153, 156, 240
religious opinions, i. 31
an aggregate of feelings as to
goes to Madeira, i. 32
right and wrong, ii. 103
death, i. 33
and responsibility, connec-
Senate's desire that he should tion between, ii. 127
retain his Professorship at standard of, the best, ii. 149
Univ. Coll., i. 34
599.
knowledge of Catholic theo function of, Darwin on, ii. 150
logy, i. 39
a theory and a definition of,
position on theological ques ii. 247, 295
tions, i. 40
Mr. Frederic Harrison and
enthusiasm for Darwin's Schopenhauer on, ii. 252
theory of evolution, i. 42 Hierokles on, ii. 267
on Mr. Herbert Spencer, i. 42 and reason, ii. 296
on the education of women, Consciousness, beginning and
i. 43
growth of, i. 106 sqq.; ii. 26
admiration for Mazzini, i. 43, end of, i. 292 ; ii. 28
early hypothesis of, ii. 8
political ideas, i. 44
complexity of, ii. 20
admiration for Spinoza, i. 49 links between present and
proposed lecture on Spinoza, former states of, ii. 21
i. 49
involuntary, ii. 21
mind and matter, theory of, implies disturbance of nerve
i. 50
matter, ii. 29
his love of light, i. 52
state of, known to one's self
wish to construct a flying only, ii. 29
machine, i. 53
removes body from mere
disaster to a kite, i. 53
mechanical level, ii. 34
personal appearance, i. 55 objects of, ii. 56
visit to Algeria, i. 63
changes in, parallel to changes
journey to Malaga, i. 68
in brain, ii. 61, 66
visits Granada, i. 71
made up of ejective facts, ii.
impressions of the Alhambra, 66, 68
i. 74.
feeling can exist without form-
Coleridge, S. T., on Christianity ing part of a, ii. 69
and truth, ii. 176
evolved from mind-stuff, ii. 70
VOL. II.
22
48
346
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Consciousness, continued— | Dugong,!teeth of, useless, i. 164
assumption of, in others, ii. 116 | Duty, sense of, ii. 100
new materialist theory of, ii.
144
Earth, the, solidification of, i.
Continuity, of things, i. 312
258
postulate of, i. 368
speculations as to beginning
Copernicus, his influence on and possible end of, i.
early ideas of the universe, 258 sqq.
i. 356-359
ancient theory of, i. 356
Cosmic emotion, ii. 258 599. Eclipse expedition, the, i. 62
Cuvier, Georges, references to, Education, some suggestions
i. 94, 108
on, i. 58 sqq.
story of Cuvier and the devil, of women, i. 43
ii. 313 n.
the Church and, ii. 238
Virchow on, ii. 308, 323
Dalton, John, investigations in "Eject," word used as opposed
gas pressure, i. 209
to object, ii. 54
on the molecular theory of Electricity, i. 284
matter, i. 228
Ohm's law as to the strength
Darwin, Charles, theory of of electric currents, ii. 196
evolution, Clifford's en Elementary Flatness, i. 369-373
thusiasm for, i. 42
Eliot, George, verses sentto, i. 76
on conscience, ii. 150
Emotion, cosmic, ii. 253 sqq.
Origin of Species, Tyndall Encke's comet, movement of,
on, ii. 301
i. 262
Descent of Man, ii. 311 Environment, differentiation
references to, į. 90, 94, 165; from, i. 108
ii. 312, 317
effect of, i. 112 sqq.
Death, Spinoza on, i. 266 Error, law of, i. 226
mental dislike of idea of, i. 270 Ether, luminiferous, i. 229
Deity, the worship of a, ii. 156 absorption of light by the,
Democritus, atomic theory of, i. 290
i. 224, 227
Euclid, elements of geometry,
Descartes, René, discovery as to i. 353, 354
connection between nervous postulates in, i. 369, 382
system and mind, ii. 5, 9 postulate of elementary flat-
references to, ii. 12I
ness, i. 369-373
Descent of man, the, ii. 300, definition of proportion, i. 405
301, 309 599.
Evolution, Darwinian theory of,
Desires, immediate, most prom-
i. 41, 42, 91, 94
inent in savage races, ii. 80 molecular, i, 249
Dreams, early deductions from, concurrent, of mind and
ii. 7
matter, i. 348
physical inferences in, equi theory implies existence of
valent to those in ordinary consciousness in lowest
life, ii. 118
organisms, ii. 38
INDEX
347
27
Evolution, continued
Gas, continued-
implies the gradual develop repulsion of gaseous particles,
ment of consciousness, ii. i. 206
68
velocity of, i. 214, 232
importance of, probably evan chlorine, i. 244
escent, ii. 283
Gauss, K. F., reference to, i.
Professor Virchow on, ii. 300 155, 158
$99.
Generation, spontaneous, ii. 329
teaching of, to children, . Genius, characteristics of, i.
327
ΙΙο
Evolution-hypothesis, the, i. 42, Geology, refuted doctrine of
89, 93 sqq., 249
geological periods, i. 160
“ Exactness," meaning of, i. 153, Geometry, ancient geometers,
178
modern criticisms of, i. 154
Eye, human, Helmholtz on, i. problems in, i. 155 sqq.
165, 340
early influence of, i. 354
optic nerve, functions of, i. Euclid's elements of, i. 353,
339; ii. II, 12, 26
369
reflex action of, ii. 12, 13, 26, 1 Golden Verses, The, ii. 262, 265
Graham, Thomas, on gaseous
sensation of sight, ii. 39
notion and diffusion, i.
203, 240
Falling bodies, velocity of, i. | Gravitation, i. 286, 287
131, 149
Faraday, Michael, on “ lines of Häckel, Professor, on the evolu-
magnetic force," i. 283
tion theory, ii. 298, 300,
Feeling, existence of, without
329
forming part of a conscious Hamilton, Sir W, R., his theory
ness, ii. 69
of conical refraction, i. 145
Feelings, theory that universe ion motiveless volition, ii. 140
consists of, i. 341, 342, Harrison, Frederic, on con-
346
science, ii. 252
Flatness, elementary, i. 369-373 Heat, the conduction of, i. 92,
Force, conception and nature 252, 266
of, i. 121; ii. 60
Helmholtz, Professor H. L. F.,
Fourier, hypothesis on the con on the human eye, i. 165,
duction of heat, i. 92, 252 340 ; ii. 340
Freedom, ii. 290, 293
on vortex-motion, i. 277 i
discoveries in theory of sen.
Galileo, measurement of veloci-
sation, ii. 41
ties by, i. 131, 151, 158 Herschel, Sir John, on mole-
Gas, composition of, i. 199, cules, I. 237
209, 212
Hierokles, his lectures in Alex-
compression of, i. 157, 166 andria, ii. 261
motion and diffusion of, i. commentary on The Golden
200 s99., 240
Verses, ii. 262 n.
348
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Hipparchus, his researches in | Jewish law, moral teachings of,
astronomy, ii. 271.
ii. 107
Hodgson, Shadworth, on uni- | Joule, J. P., calculation of velo-
versal feelings and con city of gas particles, i. 214
sciousness, i. 349
Hooke, R., reference to, i. 118 | Kant, Immanuel, doctrine of
Horse, descent of the, ii. 309 the antinomies, i. 173
sqq.
on antecedent knowledge, i.
Hydrogen and oxygen, supposi-
320
titious experiments with, on space and time as neces-
i. 217-219, 241
sary forms of perception,
relative weights of, i. 240
i. 323
Hume, David, Clifford's opinion theory of universal truths, i.
of, i. 49
326
Green and Grose's edition of, on free will, ii. 142, 290
i. 57
on expression of cosmic emo-
on the linking of perceptions, tion, ii. 258
i. 319
references to, i. 18, 19, 335 ;
on idealism, i. 344
ii. 251, 279
Huxley, Professor T. H., on Kelvin, Lord, on the proximity
Kant, i. 19
of molecules in liquids, i.
on the brain and conscious 220, 395
ness, ii. 5, 9
on the conduction of heat, i.
the movements and sensa-
252, 255, 256
tions of animals, ii. II, 12 on the solidification of the
nerve messages, transmission earth, i. 258
of, ii. 12
on tidal deformation, i. 263
on uniformity of nature, ii. on the ultimate form of atoms,
312, 313
i. 275, 278 sqg.
references to, i. 342; ii. 307, on the magnification of water,
314
i. 395
on the origin of organic
Idealism, i. 50, 57
matter, ii. 335, 336, 339
Berkeley's theory of, i. 343 ; | Kepler, John, his discovery of
ii. 119
the orbit of Mars, i. 82,
Hume and Mill on, i. 344
90, 118
Immortality, universal longing references to, i. 158 ; ii. 340
for, i. 269
Kingsley, Charles, ii. 245
Impulse, meaning of, i. 80 Kirchhoff, theory of solar
Intellect, a definition of, ii. 295 atmosphere, i. 197
Knowledge, the pursuit of, ii. 280
Jackson, Dr. Hughlings, on
nervous structure, ii. 115 Lange, F., on falsehood and
Jevons, Professor W. Stanley, morality, ii. 162
Principles of Science, i. Laveleye, de, ii. 239
255, 256, 266
"Law," meanings of, ii. 125
INDEX
349
Leibnitz, G. W., definition of a | Matter, and mind, theory of; evo.
straight line, i. 380
lution of mind-stuff to con-
definition of a plane, i. 381 sciousness, i. 50, 348; ii. 70
Lewes, G. H., on nerve-fibres, organic and inorganic, links
ii. 115
between, i. 159
Life, universal desire for, i. 271 the modern theoryof, i. 223599.
Light, wave theory of, i. 91, 92, a permanent possibility of
193, 230
sensation, i. 345, 346
spectral, i. 197, 246 599.
assertion that it is implied by
changes in, i. 229
will, ii. 33
astral, absorption of, i. 290 not of same substance as
velocity of, i. 232
mind, ii. 43
Line, geodesic, i. 379
mind does not exist without,
Linnæus, references to, i. 94
ii. 44
Liquids, composition of, i. 185, body and mind, difference
226
between, ii. 58 sqq.
motion of, i. 201, 227
different senses in which word
mixture and friction of, i. used by scientists, ii. 73
253, 254
germinal, Dr. Beale's theory
“perfect” liquid unknowii, of, ii. 291 11..
i. 281
Maurice, Frederick Denison, ii.
Little People, The, song from,
245
i. 75
Maxwell, Professor James Clerk,
Lizards, extinct species of, i. on Clifford as a mathema-
114
tician, i. 17
Lobatchewsky, his relation to on the composition and diffu-
Euclid, i. 356, 358
sion of gas, i. 202, 255
Locke, John, on the linking of on the repulsion of gaseous
perceptions, i. 318
particles, i. 206
Lockyer, Sir J. N., on metallic on the molecular theory of
spectra, i. 245
matter, i. 223, 228, 236
Lucretius, on the theory of on the conduction of heat, i.
matter, i. 224
225
Luminiferous ether, i, 229
on electricity and magnetism,
i. 283
Magnetism, i. 284
Mazzini, Joseph, Clifford's ad-
Mahomet, the supernal nature miration for, i. 43, 48
of his mission, ii. 179 599. Meniory, i. 102
Maine, Sir H. S., ji. 239
physical mechanism of, ii. 13
Malaga, Clifford's visit to, i. 68 Merivale, Charles, on morals
Man, the descent of, ii. 300, and manners under the
301, 309 sqq.
Roman Empire, ii. 108 n.
Mars, Kepler's discovery of Meteors, absurd theories about,
orbit of, i. 82, 90, 118
ii. 3
Martineau, James, ii. 245, 246, Mill, J. S., on explanation, i.
254, 341
167 12.
350
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Mill, J. S., continued
Mind, continued
on à priori knowledge of not of same substance as
necessary truths, i. 327 matter, ii. 43
sqq.
coextensive with brain, ii. 45
theory of idealism, i. 344
and body, difference between,
Milton, John, on belief, ii. 175
ii. 58 599
Mind and matter, theory of; mental facts, assumption of
evolution of mind-stuff to uniformity in, ii. 122
consciousness, i. 50, 348 ; Mind-stuff: the reality which
ii. 70
we perceive as matter, ii.
change of, i. 79, 85, 103 594. 69 599.
some conditions of mental Mole, unborn, eyes of, i. 164
development, i. 79
Molecular evolution ; Molecular
and organic life, analogy be theory. See Atomism ;
tween, i. 86, 87
Evolution
and animate objects, analogy Morals, the scientific basis of,
between changes in, i. 89 ii. 74 599.
the growth of, i. IOI
the moral sense serves a tribal
changes in structure and func purpose, ii. 81 sqq.
tion of, i. 102, 103
based on uniformity, ii. 92
upward development of, moral sense as a motive, ii. 103
necessary conditions for, moral responsibility and irre-
i. 114 sqq.
sponsibility for action, ii.
necessity of creative faculty, 90, 104
i. I16
moral sense is inherent, ii.
mental pictures, J. S. Mill on,
106, 107
i. 328
scientific treatment of, objec-
connection of mental with tions to, ii. 126
nervous action, i. 347
religion and, ii. 214
evolution of mind coextensive bearing of, upon doctrine, ii.
with that of living organ. 215
ism, i. 348
moral codes, secular origin
difference between mental and of, ji. 240
physical facts, ii. 6, 7
influence upon, of decline in
deliberation and acts of judg-1 religious belief, ii. 246 599.
ment, ii. 21-23
Motion, continuity of, hypothesis
character determined by of, i. 122 sqq., 137
mental sensations, ii. 23 discontinuous,apparently con-
sensation and exertion, con- tinuous perception of, i.
nection between, ii. 26
124 599.
is not a force, ii. 32
planetary, i. 82, 90 sq9., 118,
mental and physical facts 262
distinct, ii. 32, 33
of gas, i. 200
but concurrent, ii. 34, 35
vortex-motion, i. 276
action of, parallel to action of molecular, i. 225 399., 289
body, ii. 34, 61
rules of, i. 311, 315
INDEX
351
Motion, continued
Newton, Sir Isaac, theory of
molecular and molar, distinc planetary motion, i. 90, 91
tion between, ii. 289
theory of velocities, i. 131
Motive, moral sense as a, ii. 103 references to, i. 158, 391
inception of, ii. 135
Number, conception of, i. 391-
voluntary and involuntary 393
choice of, ii. 137
science of, differs from science
and will, ii. 140
of quantity, i. 404
Movement. See Motion
Müller, F. Max, on conceptions, Objects of consciousness, ii. 56
i. 314
599.
Murphy, the Scientific Basis of Oran, Clifford's journey to, i. 63
Faith, i. 256, 257
599.
Oxygen and hydrogen, suppo-
Nägeli, Dr., on the limits of sititious experiments with,
natural knowledge, ii. 298
i. 217-219, 241
the relation of body and i relative weight of, i. 240
mind, ii. 339
Natural selection, theory of, i. Philosopher, now a word 01
42, 89, 93 599., 166; ii. 291 doubtful import, ii. I
Nature, the uniformity of, i. Philosophy, Stoic, ii. 108
149 599.; ii. 61, 121, 122, Physical forces, the, theories of,
- 144, 145, 147 599., 201, 203 i. 121 599.
uniformity of, The Golden Plane, Leibnitz's definition of a,
Verses on, ii. 268-272
i. 381
is exact, i. 153
Planetary attraction, i. 152
is reasonable, i. 162
Planetary motion, theory of, i.
Pythagorean conception of, 82, 90 599., 48, 262
ii. 268 sqq.
Plateau, experiments with rotat-
human, constancy of, ii. 282 ing oil-drops, ii. 337
Professor Huxley on, ii. 312, Plato, on the moral training of
313
youth, ii. 216
Necessity, a suggested cause of Points, relation of, to space, i.
human action, ii. 141
365
Neptune, Adams's discovery of, Progress, necessary for virile
i. 142
existence of race, i. 116, 117
Nerves--effect of nervous action, Psyche, the, wreck of, i. 62
i. 347
Pterodactyles, the discovery of
connection with mental marsupial bones in, i. 114
action, i. 347
Ptolemy, his researches in
nerve messages, transmission astronomy, ii. 271
of, i. 347 ; ii. 12, 14, 26 Punishment, responsibility and,
relation of, to brain, ii. 10
ii. 89
sensory, ii. 10
methods of, generally directed
motor, ii. II
to improvement of charac-
optic, ii. 12
ter, ii. 90
352
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
93
Purity, definition of, ii. 157 , Religion, continued
Pythagorean conception of decline in religious belief, its
nature, ii. 268 sqq.
influence upon morality, ii.
Purpose, meaning of, ii. 150, 246 sqq.
151 .
divine worship, Hierokles on,
ii. 263
Quantity, science of, differs from (and see Belief)
science of number, i. 404 Responsibility, and punishment,
ii. 89
Rayleigh, Lord, on spectral moral, for actions, ii. 90, 104,
light, i. 247
130
Reason, in nature, i. 162 sqq. and conscience, connection
and conscience, ii. 296
between, ii. 127 sqq.
Religion, meanings of the word, of drunken person, ii. 132
ii. 206 sqq.
“Responsible," meaning of, ii.
definition, ii. 210, 212
128
morality and, ii. 214
Riemann, on geometry and
Biblical texts on duty of belief, space, i. 384, 386, 387
ii. 214
Right and wrong, sense of, ii. 87,
these probably apocryphal, ii.
215
an affair of the community, ii.
niorality, bearing of, upon 155
doctrine, ii. 215
Robertson, Professor Croom, on
Plato on the moral training of the social origins of our
youth, ii. 216
conceptions, ii. 253 11.
early worship of criminal | Roman Catholic Church. See
deities, ij. 216-220
Religion
Zeus and Hephaistos, legend Ronian Empire, morals and
of, ii. 218 sqq.
manners under the, ii.
teaching and claims of the
108 nr.
priesthood, ii. 223 sqq. Rome, Clifford's visit to, i. 63
the confessional in the Roman Roscoe, Dr., on metallic spectra,
Catholic Church, ii. 223
i. 245.
the Sermon on the Mount, ii. Rumford, Count, theories on
physical properties of water,
Church cerenionial and priest i. 163
hood of Egyptian origin,
ii. 229
Saurians, extinct, evolution of,
clerical restrictions in modern i. 114
Europe, ii. 231 sqq.
Schopenhauer, Arthur, on con-
supposed early services of science, ii. 252
Church, ii. 234 sqq.
Science, meaning of the word,
the Church and education, ii. ii. I, 76-78
238
domain of, ii. 50
moral codes are of secular Scientific thought, what is, i.
origin, ii. 240
141, 178
228
INDEX
353
Scientific thought, continued | Spectroscope, the, i. 244; ii. 200
distinguished from technical Spectrum, the. See Solar spec-
skill, i. 142 599.
trum
Seeley, Professor H. G., his dis Spencer, Herbert, his theory of
covery of marsupial bones evolution, i. 42, 118 ; ii.
in pterodactyles, i. 114
292, 293
“Self," meaning of, ii. 79
Principles of Biology, dia-
Sensation, i. 314
grams from, i.95, 96, 104,
permanent possibilities of, i. 105, 118
345, 346
refutation of doctrine of geo.
Sétif, description of, i. 65
logical periods, i. 160
Sidgwick, Henry, on uniformity on experience and transcen-
in human action and free dental hypotheses, i. 332-
will, ii. 142, 143
335
Sight and imagination, i. 303599. on explanation, i. 167 n.
messages of, i. 338
on the antinomies, i. 173, 174
“Signatures," the doctrine of, Spinoza, Benedict de, on death,
i. 147
i. 175, 266
Similarity, postulate of, i. 381 on the knowledge of self and
Sodium, presence of, in outer divine love, ii. 264
rim of sun, i. 197, 246 on free-will, ii. 290
Solar light, omission of certain references to, i. 49, 80; ii. 121
lines of, reason of, i. 198, 246 | Spirit of the age, i. 84 sq4.
Solar spectrum, the, i. 197, 246, Stars, the, distribution of, i. 289
Solar system, the, i. 137, 290 Steam, chemical properties of, i.
ancient theory of, i. 356
150
latter-day knowledge of, i. 357 Stereoscope, the, i. 306
Solids, composition of, i. 187 Stewart, Balfour, his Conserva-
Sound, transmission of, i. 189599. tion of Energy, i. 255
Sovereign, the, allegiance to, ii. Stoic philosophy, the, ii. 108
156
Stokes, Professor, his theory of
Space, is it finite or infinite ? solar atmosphere, i. 197
i. 174-176
Sun, the atmosphereof, presence
rules about, i. 315
of sodium in, i. 197, 246
Kant on, as a form of per cooling of, i. 261
ception, i. 323
Superposition, postulate of, i.
nature of, i. 360 sqq.
374
solid, i. 370
Swinburne, A. C., verses from
postulates of the science of, Songs before Sunrise, ii.
i. 353 399.
275, 288, 292, 296
dimensions of, i. 364
Poems and Ballads, ii. 291
relation of points to, i. 365 Sylvester, Professor J., on Clif-
extent of, i. 387
ford's mathematical studies,
curvature of, i. 386, 409
i. 16
Spaniards, the, character of, i. contributions to the science
70-74
of number, i. 391
354
LECTURES AND ESSAYS
Tait, Professor P. G., on , Velocity of gas, i. 214
planetary motion, i. 262 Veracity, founded on faith in
Taste, function of, ii. 149
man, ii. 160 sqq. ; and see
Taylor's theorem, i. 136
Belief
Temperament, impulsive, i. 180 | Verses, Clifford's : song from
" Thing," meaning of, i. 318 | The Little People, i. 75
Things, continuity of, i. 312 verses sent to George Eliot, i.
Thomson, Sir William. See 76
Kelvin, Lord
Virchow, Rudolf, on the teach-
Thought, technical and scien ing of science, ii. 299
tific, distinction between, i. saa.
142 399.
on education, ii. 308, 323
Tides, solar, i. 263, 267
Vortex-motion, i. 276
Truth, foundation of, ii. 160
sqq. ; and see Belief
Wallace, A. R., on adaptation,
Tune-changes, hypothesis of i. 165
continuity of, i. 122 599. Water, the physical properties of,
Turkey, absolutism in, i. 67
Count Rumford's theories
Tyndall, John, on the atomic on, i. 163
theory of Democritus, i. magnification of, Sir W.
224
Thomson on, i. 395
sense in which “matter" used Water Lily, song to the, i.
by, ii. 73
on Darwin's Origin of Species, 1 "Wheel of Life," imaginary
ii. 301
movement of figures in, i.
on spontaneous generation, 124, 306
ji. 329
Whewell, Dr. W., Clifford's
on evolution and the nebular lecture on, i. 12
hypothesis, ii. 336
on necessary truths, i. 327
reference to, ii. 307
references to, i. 163
Whitman, Walt, extracts from
Universe, beginning of, absence Leaves of Grass, ii. 277,
of knowledge as to, i. 260
294
theory that it consists of feel Will, assertion that it influences
ings and perceptions, i. matter, ii. 33
341, 342, 346
freedom of, ii. 34, 142, 290
ancient theory of, i. 356
voluntary and involuntary
conception of, i. 386-388 ; ii. acts, ii. 132 sqq.
277, 278
motive and, ii. 140
theory of consciousness of, Kant's definition of, ii. 142
ii. 46
Women, education of, i. 43
consists of mind-stuff, ii. 72 Wordsworth, William, Ode to
Duty, ii. 258
Velocity, measurement of, i.
131 sqq., 151
Zoetrope. See Wheel of Life
75
IT
V
Printed by, R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh.
The Eversley Series.
Globe 8vo. Cloth. 55. per volume,
The Works of Matthew Arnold.
ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. First Series.
ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. Second Series.
EARLY AND NARRATIVE POEMS.
LYRIC AND ELEGIAC POEMS.
DRAMATIC AND LATER POEMS.
AMERICAN DISCOURSES.
LETTERS. Edited by G. W. E. RUSSELL. Two Vols.
The Holy Bible. Arranged in paragraphs, with an Introduction
by J. W. MACKAIL, M.A." In Eight Volumes.
Vol. 1. GENESIS-NUMBERS. Vol. II. DEUTERONOMY--2 SAMUEL.
Vol. III. I KINGS-ESTHER. Vol. I 7. JOB-SONG OF SOLOMON.
Vol. V. ISAIAH-LAMENTATIONS. Vol. VI. EZEKIEL-MALACHI.
Vol. VII. MATTHEW JOHN. Vol. VIII. Acts--REVELATION.
Essays by George Brimley. Third Edition.
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Edited by A. W. POLLARD.
Two Vols.
Dean Church's Miscellaneous Writings. Collected Edition.
Nine Vols.
MISCELLANEOUS Essays. I DANTE: and other Essays.
ST. ANSELM
SPENSER.
BACON.
THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. Twelve Years, 1833-1845.
THE BEGINNING OF THE MIDDLE Ages. (Included in this Series by
permission of Messrs. LONGMANS & Co.)
OCCASIONAL PAPERS. Selected from The Guardian, The Times, The
Saturday Review, 1846-1890. Two Vols.
Life and Letters of Dean Church. Edited by his Daughter,
MARY C. CHURCH.
Lectures and Essays by W. K. Clifford, F.R.S. Edited by
LESLIE STEPHEN and Sir F. POLLOCK. New Edition.
Two Vols.
Emerson's Collected Works. Six Vols. With Introduction by
JOHN MORLEY.
MISCELLANIES. 1 ESSAYS. I POEMS.
ENGLISH TRAITS AND REPRESENTATIVE Men.
THE CONDUCT OF LIFE, AND SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE.
LETTERS AND SOCIAL AIMS.
Letters of Edward FitzGerald. Edited by W. A. Wright.
Two Vols.
Letters of Edward FitzGerald to Fanny Kemble, 1871-1889
Edited by W. A. WRIGHT.
More Letters of Edward FitzGerald.
Pausanias and other Greek Sketches. By J. G. FRAZER, M.A.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
The Eversley Series-Continued.
Goethe's Prose Maxims. Translated, with Introduction, by
T. B. SAUNDERS.
*** The Scientific and Artistic Maxims were selected by Professor
Huxley and Lord Leighton respectively.
Thomas Gray's Collected Works in Prose and Verse. Edited
by EDMUND GOSSE.
Vol. I, POEMS, JOURNALS, and Essays. Vols. II. and III. LETTERS.
Vol. IV. NOTES ON ARISTOPHANES AND PLATO.
Works by John Richard Green.
STRAY STUDIES FROM ENGLAND AND ITALY.
HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. Eight Vols.
THE MAKING OF ENGLAND. With Maps. In Two Vols.
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. With Maps. In Two Vols.
OXFORD STUDIES.
Guesses at Truth. By Two BROTHERS.
The Choice of Books, and other Literary Pieces. By FREDERIC
HARRISON.
Earthwork out of Tuscany. By MAURICE HEWLETT.
Poems of Thomas Hood. Edited, with Prefatory Memoir, by
ALFRED AINGER. In Two Vols. With Vignettes and
Portraits.
Vol. I. SERIOUS POEMs. Vol. II. POEMS OF WIT AND HUMOUR.
R. H. Hutton's Collected Essays.
LITERARY ESSAYS.
ESSAYS ON SOME OF THE MODERN GUIDES OF ENGLISH THOUGHT
IN MATTERS OF FAITH.
THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS.
CRITICISMS ON CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT AND THINKERS. Two Vols.
ASPECTS OF RELIGIOUS AND SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT. Selected from
The Spectator, and Edited by his Nicce E. M. Roscoe. With
Portrait.
Thomas Henry Huxley's Collected Works. Nine Vols.
Vol. I. METHOD AND RESULTS.
Vol. II. DARWINIANA.
Vol. III. SCIENCE AND EDUCATION.
Vol. IV. SCIENCE AND HEBREW TRADITION.
Vol. V. SCIENCE AND CHRISTIAN TRADITION.
Vol. VI. HUME. With Helps to the Study of Berkeley.
Vol. VII. MAN'S PLACE IN NATURE: and other Anthropological Essays.
Vol.VIII. DISCOURSES, BIOLOGICAL AND GEOLOGICAL.
Vol. IX. EVOLUTION AND ETHICS, AND OTHER ESSAYS.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
The Eversley Series.
N
Globe 8vo. Cloth. '48. net per volume.
The Works of Matthew! THE BEGINNING OF THE MIDDLE
Arnold. 8 Vols.
AGES. (Included in this Series
by permission of Messrs. LONG-
ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. 1st Series.
MANS & Co.)
ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. 2nd Series. |
OCCASIONAL PAPERS. Selected
EARLY AND NARRATIVE POEMS.
from The Guardian, The Times,
LYRIC AND ELEGIAC POEMS.
and The Saturday Review,
DRAMATIC AND LATER POENS.
1846-1890. 2 Vols.
AMERICAN DISCOURSES.
LETTERS. Edited by G. W. E. Life and Letters of Dean
RUSSELL. 2 Vols.
Church.
A Memoir of Jane Austen. Edited by his Daughter, MARY
By her Nephew, J. E. AUSTEN C. CHURCH.
LEIGH. To which is added
Lectures and Essays by W.
• Lady Susan," and Fragments
of two other Unfinished Tales
K. Clifford, F.R.S.
by Miss AUSTEN.
Edited by Sir LESLIE STEPHEN
The Holy Bible,
and Sir F. POLLOCK. 2 Vols.
Arranged'in paragraphs, with an The Collected Works of
Introduction by J. W. MAC- Emerson. 6 Vols.
KAIL, M.A.
Vol. 2. DEUTERONOMY--2 SAMUEL.
With Introduction by JOHN
Vol. 3. 1 KINGS-ESTHER.
MORLEY.
Vol. 4. JOB-SONG OF SOLOMON.
MISCELLANIES.
Vol. 5. ISAIAH-LAMENTATIONS.
ESSAYS.
Vol. 6. EZEKIEL-MALACHI.
POEMS.
Vol. 7. MATTHEW— JOHN.
ENGLISH TRAITS AND REPRE-
Vol. 8. Acts—REVELATION.
SENTATIVE MEN.
THE CONDOCT OF LIFE, AND
Essays by George Brimley.
SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE.
Third Edition.
LETTERS AND SOCIAL AIMS.
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Letters, etc., of Edward
Edited by A. W.POLLARD. 2 Vols.
FitzGerald.
Miscellaneous Writings of
LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD.
Edited by W. A. WRIGHT.
Dean Church.
2 Vols.
Collected Edition. 9 Vols. MORI LETTERS OF EDWARD Fitz-
MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS.
GERALD.
DANTE : and other Essays.
LETTERS or EDWARD FITZGERALD
ST. ANSELM.
TO FANNY KEMBLE, 1871-1883.
SPENSER.
Edited by W. A. WRIGHT.
BACON.
EIGHT DRAMAS OF CALDERON.
THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. Twelye Translated by EDWARD FIFZ-
Years, 1833-1845.
GERALD.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON,
The Eversley Series-continued.
.
Globe 8vo. Cloth. 4s. net per volume.
Pausanias and other Greek | The Meaning of History and
Sketches.
other Historical Pieces.
By J. G. FRAZER, M.A.
By FREDERIC HARRISON.
Goethe's Maxims and ta
Earthwork out of Tus-
Reflections,
cany, Third Edition.
By MAURICE HEWLETT.
Translated, with Introduction,
by T. B. SAUNDERS.
Poems of Thomas Hood.
** The Scientific and Artistic Edited, with Prefatory Memoir,
Dlacims were selected by Professor by Canon AINGER. In 2 Vols.
Huxley and Lord Leighton respect Vol. 1. SERIOUS POEMS.
ively.
Vol. 2. POEMS OF WIT AND
HUMOUR. With Vignettes and
Collected Works of Thomas Portraits
Gray in Prose and Collected Essays of R. H.
Verse. 4 Vols.
Hutton. 7 Vols.
Edited by EDMUND GOSSE.
LITERARY ESSAYS.
Vol. 1. POEMS, JOURNALS, AND ESSAYS ON SOME OF THE MODERN
ESSAYS.
GCIDES OF ENGLISH THOUGHT
Vols. 2 and 3. LETTIRS.
IN MATTERS OF FAITH.
Vol. 4. NOTES ON ARISTOPHANES THEOLOGICAL Essays.
AND PLATO.
CRITICISMS ON CONTEMPORARY
THOUGHT AND THINKERS. 2 Vols.
Works of John Richard
ASPECTS OF RELIGIOUS AND
Green. 16 Vols.
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT. Selected
HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE.
from The Spectator, and Edited
8 Vols.
by his Niece, E. M. ROSCOE.
THE MAKING OF ENGLAND. With |
With Portrait.
Maps. In 2 Vols. .
BRIEF LITERARY CRITICISMS.
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND.
Selected from The Spectator,
With Maps. In 2 Vols.
and Edited by his Niece,
STRAY STUDIES FROM ENGLAND
ELIZABETH M. ROSCOE.
AND ITALY.
Life and Works of Thomas
STRAY STUDIES. Second Series.
Henry Huxley, 12 Vols.
OXFORD STUDIES.
HISTORICAL STUDIES.
Vol. 1. METHOD AND RESULTS.
Vol. 2. DARWINIANA.
Guesses at Truth.
Vol. 3. SCIENCE AND EDUCATION.
Vol. 4. SCIENCE AND HEBREW
By Two BROTHERS.
TRADITION.
The Choice of Books and
Vol. 5. SCIENCE AND CHRISTIAN
TRADITION.
other Literary Pieces. Vol. 6. HUMI. With Helps to
By FREDERIC HARRISON.
the Study of Berkeley.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
The Eversley Series-continued.
Globe 8vo. Cloth. 4s. net per volume.
Vol. 7. MAN'S PLACE IN NATURE ;L TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. By
and other Anthropological | CHARLES and MARY LAMB.
Essays.
THE LETTERS OF CHARLES
Vol. 8. DISCOURSES, BIOLOGICAL | LAMB. Newly arranged, with
AND GEOLOGICAL.
additions (1904). 2 Vols.
Vol. 9. EVOLUTION AND ETHICS, Life of Charles Lamb.
AND OTHER ESSAYS.
By Canon AINGER.
Vol. 10, 11, and 12. LIFE AND
LETTERS OF T. H. HUXLEY. Historical Essays,
By LEONARD HUXLEY.
· By J. B. LIGHTFOOT, D.D.
French Poets and Novel- The Poetical Works of
ists. By HENRY JAMES.
John Milton.
Edited, with Memoir, Intro-
Partial Portraits.
duction, and Notes, by DAVID
By HENRY JAMES.
MASSON, M.A. 3 Vols.
Modern Greece.
Vol. 1. THE MINOR POEMS.
Two Lectures. By Sir RICHARD
Vol. 2. PARADISE LOST.
Vol. 3: PARADISE REGAINED, AND
JEBB.
SAMSON AGONISTES.
Collected Works of John
Family and Friends,
Edited by SIDNEY COLYIN.
Morley. 14 Vols.
VOLTAIRE. 1 Vol.
Epic and Romance.
ROUSSEAU. 2 Vols.
By Prof. W. P. KER.
DIDEROT AND THE ENCYCLO-
PÆDISTS. 2 Vols.
The Works of Charles
ON COMPROMISE. 1 Vol.
MISCELLANIES. 3 Vols.
WESTWARD HO! 2 Vols.
BURKE. 1 Vol.
HYPATIA. 2 Vols.
STUDIES IN LITERATURE. 1 Vol.
YEAST. 1 Vol.
OLIVER CROMWELL. 1 Vol.
THE LIFE OF RICHARD COBDEN.
Two YEARS AGO. 2 Vols.
2 Vols.
HEREWARD THE WAKE. 2 Vols. Essays by F. W. H. Myers.
POEMS. 2 Vols.
3 Vols.
The Works of Charles SCIENCE AND A FUTURE LIFE, AND
Lamb.
OTHER ESSAYS.
Edited, with Introduction and CLASSICAL ESSAYS.
Notes, by Canon AINGER. MODERN ESSAYS.
6 Vols.
Shakespeare.
| By WALTER RALEIGH.
POEMS, PLAYS, AND MISCELLANE-
OUS ESSAYS.
Records of Tennyson, Rus-
Mrs. LEICESTER'S SCHOOL, and kin, and Browning.
other writings.
| By ANNE THACKERAY RITCHIE.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
The Eversley Series-continued.
Globe 8vo. Cloth. 4s. net per volume.
The Works of Sir Johnl Vol. 9. KING LEAR—MACBETH-
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
R. Seeley, K.C.M.G.
dou. Vol. 10. CORIOLANUS-TIMON OF
Litt.D. 5 Vols.
ATHENS— POEMS.
THE EXPANSION OF ENGLAND. The Works of Tames
Two Courses of Lectures.
LECTURES AND ESSAYS.
Smetham.
ECCE HOMO. A Survey of the LETTERS. With an Introductory
Life and Work of Jesus Christ. Memoir. Edited by SARAH
NATURAL RELIGION.
SMETHAM and WILLIAM DAVIES.
INTRODUCTION TO POLITICAL With a Portrait.
SCIENCE.
LITERARY WORKS. Edited by
WILLIAM DAVIES.
The Works of Shake The Works of Alfred. Lord
speare, 10 Vols.
Tennyson.
With short Introductions and Annotated by the AUTHOR. Edited
Footnotes by Professor C. H. by HALLAM, Lord TENNYSON.
HERFORD.
Vol. 1. POEMS.
Vol. 1. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST Vol. 2. POEMS.
COMEDY OF ERRORS – Two Vol. 3. ENOCH ARDEN and IN
GENTLEMEN OF VERONA-MID MEMORIAM.
SUMMER NIGET'S DREAM.
Vol. 4. THE PRINCESS and MAUD.
Vol. 2. TAMING OF THE SHREW Vol. 5. IDYLLS OF THE KING.
MERCHANT OF VENICE-MERRY Vol. 6. BALLADS AND OTHER
WIVES OF WINDSOR-TWELFTH POEMS.
NIGÅT AS YOU LIKE IT.
Vol. 7. DEMETER AND OTHER
Vol. 3. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING POEMS.
-ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS Vol. 8. QUEEN MARY and HAROLD.
WELL-MEASURE FOR MEASURE Vol. 9. BECKET AND OTHER PLAYS.
-TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
Selections from the Writ-
Vol. 4. PERICLES-CYMBELINE-
THE WINTER'S TALE—THE ings of Thoreau.
TEMPEST.
Edited by H. S. SALT.
Vol. 5. HENRY VI.: First Part-
HENRY VI: Second Part_/ Essays in the History of
HENRY VI. : Third Part-1 Religious Thought in
RICHARD III.
the West.
Vol. 6. KING JOHN-RICHARD II. | By Bishop WESTCOTT, D.D.
HENRY IV. : First Part 1
HENRY-IV.: Second Part.
The Poetical Works of
Vol. 7. HENRY V.—HENRY VIII. William Wordsworth.
Titus ANDRONICUS-ROMEO AND Edited by Prof. KNIGHT. 8 Vols.
JULIET.
Vol. 8. JULIUS CÆSAR-HAMLET | The Journals of Dorothy
-OTHELLO.
I Wordsworth. 2 Vols.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
T
!
3 9015 02070 8494
T
:
-
-
-
-
.
:
.
.
T
.
-
!'.':..:
:
....
.
.
.
.
.