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 ANCIENT RELIGION AND MODERN THOUGHT. 
 
 Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 12s. 
 
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ON EIGHT AND WKONG 
 
 03 
 
 WILLIAM SAMUEL LILLY 
 
 Tovs apa ttoXXu kciXo. Qeoyfiivovs^ avro be to kuXvi' /j)) opwpras 
 fiT]b' ciXXu) e^r' avro ayovri hvyajj.evovs eTrecrOai, Kal ttoXXci biKaia, 
 nvTO be to biKctioi' pi), Kui ttuvtu ovto), boL,a<ieiy (pyaoider airavTa, 
 yiyi wcTKeiP be cuv bo^uEiovinv ovbev. M>) ovv ti irXrij.ip.eXitGop€v 
 (piXoboEovs KaXovi'-es avrovs fxtiXXov i'l (piXocTofovs, kcu dpci i/fxTv 
 <T(p6bpu "^aXeTvavovaiv, uv ovrw Xeyuifxer ; 
 
 Plato. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 
 Limited 
 1890 
 

 WESTMINSTER : 
 
 PRINTED BY NICHOLS AND SONS, 
 
 25, PARLIA3IENT STREET. 
 
To THE Eev. MANDELL CREIGHTON, 
 
 Canon of Worcester, 
 
 Dixie Professor of Ecclesiastical History 
 in the University of Cambridge. 
 
 My deae Ceeighton, 
 
 In writing your name here, with your kind 
 permission, I desire not merely to offer you a 
 token— poor and inadequate, as I know full well — 
 of personal regard and esteem. I wish also to avail 
 myself of an oj^portunity to testify my appreciation 
 of, my gratitude for, your fruitful endeavour to 
 raise the character of historical studies in this 
 country. You have done much to take away the 
 rej^roach, too long and too justly attaching to Eng- 
 lish scholarship, for the inadequacy of its methods 
 and for the scantiness of its achievements, in 
 this important field of intellectual activity. And 
 
 vl'^ it is a deep satisfaction to me that the chief scene 
 
 ^»^ of your labours is in my own University, which is 
 so fortunate as to number you among her adopted 
 J sons. 
 
 ^ But, to say the truth, there is yet another feeling, 
 besides friendship and gratitude, which has led me 
 
 n(^ to offer you this book. Some years ago you did 
 
 b 
 
VI 
 
 me the honour of inviting me to contribute to the 
 organ of higher historical criticism, called into 
 existence by you to supply a grievous want in 
 our periodical literature. It would have been a 
 great gratification to me to associate myself, in 
 however small a way, with your work. It is a 
 cause of much regret to me that I have been able 
 to offer you only one paper for the English Sis- 
 torical Revieio, and that of the nature of a mere 
 personal explanation. The present volume must 
 plead as my excuse. Great as are our national 
 shortcomings in the domain of history, they are 
 assuredly far greater in the domain of moral philo- 
 sophy. "The oracles are dumb:" or if they 
 speak at all, it is "in words deceiving." " 0, 
 psychologic, garde-toi de physiologic ! " exclaimed 
 Maine de Biran, more than half a century ago. 
 That is precisely wliat psychology has quite failed 
 to do, either in his country or in ours. li. is a 
 most astonishing, a most disheartening sign of the 
 times, that people are supposed to be entitled to 
 speak with authority upon questions of ontology or 
 ethics, merely because they happen to have attained 
 some degree of eminence in some branch of phy- 
 sical science. They may not have read a single 
 metaphysical text-book. Nay, they may be igno- 
 rant of the meaning of the commonest philosophical 
 terms. Or — but that is the accomplishment of 
 
vu 
 
 a select few — they may possess "just enough of 
 learning to misquote." No matter. They pose as 
 moral philosophers, upon the strength of their 
 achievements in cerebral mensuration or in the dy- 
 namics of matter. And their pretensions are allowed, 
 not only by ignorant and foolish " general readers," 
 whose suffrages largely determine public opinion, 
 but even by accredited and authoritative teachers, 
 whose office it is specially to represent the claims, 
 and to guard the rights of moral philosophy. The 
 consequences have been unspeakably disastrous, 
 both in speculation and in practice. I remember 
 the late M. Caro once remarked to me, "La morale 
 de nos jours, c'est une morale de commis-voyageur." 
 This witness is true. 
 
 In such a condition of things, it appeared to me a 
 duty to do what little I could to vindicate the 
 true method in ethics. There is only one true 
 method. In the following pages, I have endeavoured 
 to exhibit it, and to point out some of its more im- 
 portant j)ractical applications. It has been well 
 observed by the illustrious Trendelenburg : " Es ist 
 eine alte und immer junge Aufgabe, welche zu 
 keiner Zeit in der Wissenschaft rulien darf, die 
 Grundlagen, auf welchen Sitte und Hecht stehen, 
 von welchen Werth und Unwerth des Lebens 
 abhangen, aus dem Schwanken der Meinungen 
 und Strebungen in eine festere Lage zu bringen." 
 
 h 2 
 
Vlll 
 
 Such is the task to which I have sought to make my 
 humble contribution in this book. But, unlike 
 Trendelenburg in his Naturrecht auf dent Grimde 
 der Ethik, I am not writing for readers trained in 
 philosophy. Such a class of readers can hardly be 
 said to exist in England. My object has been to 
 present a practical treatment of a practical subject, 
 to intelligent and thoughtful men of the world. 
 Hence I have sought to say what I had to say as 
 concisely as might be. I have also endeavoured to 
 avoid, as far as possible, technical expressions, and 
 modes of thought not likely to be familiar save to 
 philosophical students. I am well aware that my 
 pages have thereby lost in precision, and, conse- 
 quently, in value to scholars like yourself. I feel 
 confident, however, that you will pardon that defect, 
 if — which I earnestly hope — my treatment of my 
 subject commends itself to you, as likely to promote 
 a more intelligent appreciation, generally, of topics 
 involving^ the moral life and death of men and of 
 nations. 
 
 But instead of the letter which I proposed to 
 write when I sat down, I am inflicting upon you a 
 dissertation. " Verbum uon amplius addam." 
 I am, my dear Creighton, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 W. S. LILLY. 
 
 Athenaeum Club. 
 
 March 2bth, 1890. 
 
SUMMARY. 
 
 CHAPTER r. 
 
 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The idea of Right has hitherto been venerated by mankind 
 at large, as snpersensuous, absolute, divine. Rights 
 have been held to rest upon an ethical sanction, and 
 that upon noumenal truth . ... 1 
 
 In the present day the principles upon Avhich the concepts 
 of Right and Wrong have been based, are more than 
 questioned, and the old ethical doctrines are falling 
 into discredit. We are living in a moral crisis . 4 
 
 Which must be attributed to the advance of Materialism 
 
 in the general mind . . . . .7 
 
 There are many varieties of Materialism : for example 
 the late Professor Clifford, Professor Huxley, and 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer, represent three different types 8 
 
 But all agree in restricting our knowledge to the phe- 
 nomenal universe, of which consciousness and will 
 are for them fortuitous or necessary products : they 
 teach that the laws of thought are, in the last 
 resort, only sensations, or induced tendencies of the 
 nervous system ; they express the entire man by 
 matter : his intellectual and moral being as well as 
 his corporal frame . , . . .14 
 
X SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In the long run it will be found that there are only 
 two schools of thought, Transcendentalism and 
 Materialism , . . . . .15 
 
 One of the most striking signs of the times is the extent 
 to which Materialism has triumphed throughout 
 Europe, both in the higher and in popular literature 17 
 
 Politics and art tell the same tale . . . .22 
 
 We may see the corroding elfects of Materialism in all 
 
 the most important departments of human life . 24 
 
 For example, it is fatal to the idea of human responsi- 
 bility, which is the basis of penal law . . 25 
 
 It is fatal to marriage, and to the virtue of chastity, of 
 
 which mari"iage is the guardian , . .28 
 
 Certain it is that the old ethical conceptions which have 
 governed civilised life, largely share in the discredit 
 cast by Materialism upon the metaphysical dogmas 
 whereon they rested . . . . .36 
 
 Materialism, however, proposes to' rear for us a new 
 morality upon another foundation. That proposal 
 will be examined in the next chapter . . 36 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. 
 
 The new morality which Materialism offers is to be based 
 upon " the laws of comfort " or " the dicta of [phy- 
 sical] science", . .• . * .37 
 
8UMMAEY. xi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 It is a morality declTiced mei^ely from physical law, 
 grounded solely on what is called " experience," and 
 on analysis of and deductions from experience ; hold- 
 ing only of the positive sciences, and rejecting all 
 pure reason, all philosophy, in the proper sense of 
 the word . . . . . .38 
 
 This new morality is, in short, Hedonism ; it conceives of 
 man as an animal for whom pain and pleasure are 
 "'the sole and the ultimate causes of action " .39 
 
 It accounts of Right, not as absolute, but as relative : the 
 accord of the individual instinct with the social in- 
 stinct : and of Wrong, as the absence of such 
 accord. It finds in general utility the only scientific 
 and experimental criterion of human action . . 42 
 
 And as it deduces Right from the physical fact of living 
 together, so does it deduce Duty from the physical 
 necessity of living together . . . .45 
 
 Virtue it resolves into conduct tending to the general 
 
 good, and therefore consecrated by public opinion . 46 
 
 It repudiates free-will as in manifest contradiction with 
 the law of mechanical causality, and by its identifi- 
 cation of moral Avith physical uccessity it is led to 
 Determinism . . . . , .47 
 
 Objections to this new morality : 
 
 (1) It is devoid of obligation, in place of which it 
 presents us with a mere motive, resting upon a 
 proposition by no means universally true . 48 
 
 (2) In a world of mechanism Right is a meaningless 
 word, for it has neither subject nor object . 51 
 
xii SmiMABY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 (3) Physical laws give us mere facts, the authority 
 of which is their material force, and which are 
 utterly incapable of yielding the ethical ought . 51 
 
 (4) Public opinion, with its "uniformities of appro- 
 bation and disapprobation," is in no sense the 
 creative principle of morality : so far as it repre- 
 sents the ethical traditions lying at the root of 
 national character it is a force for good ; but an 
 effect, not a cause . . . . .53 
 
 (5) The application of the laws of natural history 
 to social relations issues in complete ethical 
 irresponsibility, and makes of morality a mere 
 regulation of police . . . .54 
 
 (6) "The agreeable consciousness resulting from the 
 healthy exercise of the energies of our nature " 
 is grotesquely inadequate to support the old 
 rule of right action " Pais ce quo dois, adviennc 
 
 que pourra " . . . . .57 
 
 (7) Whether morality be regarded objectively or 
 subjectively. Materialism is fatal to it . . 58 
 
 Consequences, although not a criterion of morality, are 
 an element in ratiocination. A reducUo ad ahs^irdttm 
 is a good logical process, because man consists in 
 reason .' .' ." . . . .58 
 
 And the fact that the doctrines of Materialism issue in 
 unreason, is enough to discredit them : for the uni- 
 verse is reasonable : it is cosmos not chaos . . 59 
 
 No compromise is possible between the two schools of 
 
 Materialism and Transcendentalism . . .61 
 
 But a wider physic would not hurt our mctaphysic . 62 
 
SUMAIAlir. xiii 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mr. Spencer's ethical teacliing deserves special attention, 
 as the most noteworthy attempt to establish the 
 rules of right conduct upon a new basis : and there- 
 fore this chapter is devoted to the consideration 
 of it . . . . . . . 6Q 
 
 He regards " moral phenomena " as phenomena of evo- 
 lution: and evolution he defines as " constituted by 
 a redistribution of Matter and Motion " : his method 
 in morals is therefore purely physical . . 68 
 
 Like " the men of science," whose teachings were con- 
 sidered in the last chapter, he reduces all knowledge 
 to experience and all morality to expedience . . 69 
 
 That this is so, is often denied, and Mr. Spencer's vigorous 
 criticism of Bentham and Mill is urged in support of 
 the denial . . . . . .70 
 
 It is perfectly true that Mr. Spencer does not confine 
 himself to the experience of the individual, or adopt 
 the bald empiricism which sums up morality as en- 
 lightened self-interest. His point of departure is 
 not the individual, but the race : and his " laws of 
 conduct " are evolved not from personal, but from 
 tribal selfishness. But, however complicated the 
 process, to experience and expediency he comes at 
 last . . . . . . .70 
 
 It is absolutely clear from his own statements, first, 
 that he dissents utterly from the transcendental 
 school as to the foundation of morals : insisting that 
 
xiv smaiABY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 there can be no eternal jirinciple of right and wrong : 
 which words have for him only a subjective meaning, 
 only a momentary consequence in the evolution of 
 being : his controversy with Bentham is not about 
 the source of ethics, but about the mode of estimating 
 joain and pleasure : to him laws of conduct are " for- 
 mulas of utility, not as empirically estimated, but as " 
 what he calls " rationally determined " . . 71 
 
 Equally clear is it, in the second place, that lie denies 
 free-will in every possible sense and subordinates 
 morality to the laws of life, which laws he accounts 
 of as purely physical, his argument resting mainly 
 upon what is really a sophism about conformity to 
 law . . . . . . .74 
 
 And, thirdly, no less evident is it that he identifies moral 
 goodness with pleasure, by a grave metaphysical 
 error, while, by an error not less serious, he abstracts 
 moral obligation in general from a representation of 
 " the natural consequences " of certain acts . . 80 
 
 He has no sort of rational answer to give to the question 
 what is the obligation to right conduct : no valid 
 reason to offer why the individual should ever 
 sacrifice himself . . . . .88 
 
 He tells us that his arguments are valid only for opti- 
 mists, but experience, to which he appeals, does not 
 yield him optimism : hence he is compelled to invent a 
 Laputa, which he calls the "ideal," wherein he hopes 
 his ethics will be verified : but this is to put himself 
 altogether out of court .... 
 
 90 
 
 His evolutionary ethics, are, in fact, a house of cards, 
 
 Iniilt upon a foundation of sand . . .94 
 
SUMMARY XV 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RATIONAL ETHICS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The true basis of Ethics must be sought in Reason : 
 which is " the power of universal and necessary 
 convictions ; the source and substance of truths above 
 sense, and having their evidence in themselves " . 96 
 
 Upon its testimony we believe in Natural Right, as 
 immutable truth, wherein every man shares who comes 
 into the world: in Justice, as prior to all experience, 
 and wholly independent of empirical deductions : in 
 the Moral Law, Sb6 supreme over the totality of exist- 
 
 Our intuitions of Right and Wrong are first principles 
 
 anterior to all systems . . . . .98 
 
 They are self-evident and categorical, and from them 
 ethical science starts. Thus its principles are, in the 
 strictest sense, transcendental. The moral " ought " 
 appeals, not to experience, but to the reason of things 99 
 
 Hence, in its own sphere, morality is autonomous : it is 
 absolutely independent, both of religious systems and 
 of the physical sciences . . . .99 
 
 The rule of ethics is a natural and permanent revelation 
 
 of the Reason ...... 100 
 
 The most certain portion of all my knowledge is that I — 
 
 the thinking being — exist .... 100 
 
 But as surely as I am conscious of myself, so am I 
 conscious of ethical obligation. The sense of duty 
 is a primary fact of human nature . . . 101 
 
xvi SUM3IABY. 
 
 PACK 
 
 This is man's special prerogative. The rudiments of an 
 ethical sense may, indeed, be fonnd in creatures in- 
 ferior to man in the scale of animate existence. But 
 of man, alone, can we predicate consciousness in the 
 proper signification of the word. He alone can recog- 
 nise and will the creative thought of his being : he 
 alone is a person ..... 101 
 
 Whatever the period in history may have been when man's 
 jDersonality emerged, it was due to the growth, side 
 by side with sensuous and instinctive impulses, of the 
 faculty of Reason, which rendered his liberty possible, 
 by emancipating him from the yoke of instinct as no 
 other animal is emancipated . . . .103 
 
 This free volition is man's distinctive endowment ; the 
 essence, the form of his personality: for it is the con- 
 dition of the realisation of his ethical end, in virtue 
 of which he is a Person . . . .104 
 
 To personality attach rights and duties, which are dif- 
 ferent aspects of the same thing. We cannot predicate 
 the one where we cannot predicate the other . 104 
 
 Duty is the ethically necessary. Morality consists in 
 deliberate self-siibmission to that necessity. And 
 this free volition, determined by the idea of good, is 
 in itself a revelation of the moral law . . 104 
 
 The moral law may be said to be the rule of action which 
 arises out of the relation of Reason to itself, as its 
 own end. " Necessity is its primary note . . 104 
 
 It is a necessity of a unique kind, derived from a law of 
 
 ideal relation, obligatory on our wills . . 105 
 
SUMMARY. xvii 
 
 PAGK 
 
 The moral law claims obedience as a thing absolutely 
 good, as an end in itself : and by that very claim, 
 exhibits itself as transcendental . . . 105 
 
 Its organon is the Practical Reason, the Moral Under- 
 standing,, Conscience ..... 106 
 
 The sense of Duty, a form of the mind itself, exists as "a 
 blank formula" which may be filled up in a variety of 
 ways. The point upon which conscience never varies 
 is that duty exists ..... 106 
 
 Human progress means, before all things, the education of 
 conscience : the deeper apprehension of the moral law : 
 that is of justice, which is " the will to render to 
 every man his right." ..... 108 
 
 This " right " arises from the primordial idea of the 
 person in himself ; but only in society is personality 
 realised : the social organism exhibits that which lies 
 in the nature of man, but which could never have 
 come out of him in isolation .... 109 
 
 In the ethical fellowship of successive generations, the 
 idea of right is ever increasingly realised : it grows 
 in the human conscience . . . .110 
 
 But an idea, in the true sense of the word, it is, and uni- 
 versality is one of its essential notes . . .111 
 
 The belief that human law can be the ultimate ground 
 and only measure of right, or that all human rights 
 arise from contract, expi'ess or implied, is, upon the 
 face of it, untenable . . . . .112 
 
 Such rights as the right to existence, or the right to self- 
 defence, possess universal validity. They ai'e merely 
 subjective expressions of Right, which is founded on 
 necessity ; and may properly be called natural, because 
 they originate in the nature of things . .112 
 
xviii SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The law of nature is an expression of the nature of things 
 
 in their ethical relations . . . .114 
 
 The natural rights of man have an ideal value, as showing 
 the goal towards which society, in unison with indi- 
 vidvial eiforts, should tend . . . .114 
 
 All human rights are really but different aspects of the 
 one great aboriginal right of man to belong to him- 
 self, to realise the idea of his being . . . 114 
 
 All human laws are but formulas, in which we endeavour 
 to apply the dictates of that universal law, which is 
 absolute and eternal Righteousness . . .114 
 
 " God is law say the wise." In Him the ethical order is 
 eternally conceived, eternally realised. But the moral 
 law leads to, is not derived from, the Theistic idea . 115 
 
 It supplies the only foundation upon which the social 
 edifice can be surely established. The true concep- 
 tion of the State is that of an Ethical Society . 117 
 
 The following are fundamental positions of Rational 
 Ethics. The moral law, an expression of Universal 
 Reason, is a formal law, sovereign over all ; a law of 
 ideal relation, obligatory upon all wills. The desire 
 to do right as right — that alone is morality. The 
 idea of " right " or " ethical good " is a simple ab- 
 original idea, not decomposable into any other, but 
 strictly sui generis. It cannot be resolved into the 
 idea of happiness, or of pleasure, or of greatest use- 
 fulness ; neither does it mean " commanded by the 
 Deity," or " imposed by social needs." It admits of 
 no definition save in terms of itself. It has definite 
 relations to various other ideas, while perfectly inde- 
 pendent of them as to its essence. It has therefore, 
 
SUMMARY. 
 
 XIX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 notliing to do, in its oivn nature, witli Egoism, Altruism, 
 Utilitarianism, or any method of reckoning' conse- 
 quences, save the one moral consequence, good or evil. 
 It is innate, in the sense that every human being has 
 the capacity of requiring it . . , .117 
 
 It is of the utmost importance to insist oh these' truths 
 
 at the present day . . . . .119 
 
 In the remaining chapters of this work six practical appli- 
 cations of them will be indicated , . 121 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. 
 
 The prevalent opinion concerning punishment is that it 
 
 has two ends : to deter and to refoi-m . . . 122 
 
 But this, although true so far as it goes, is not a sufficient 
 account of punishment, which is, first, and before all 
 things, vindictive ..... 124 
 
 As a matter of fact, punishment is associated in our 
 minds with wrong- doing And the association is not, 
 as the philosophy of relativity teaches, accidental ; 
 it is necessary ; the work of reason, not of human 
 caprice . .' . .- . . • . 125 
 
 The first fact about man is his consciousness of the moral 
 law and of his obligation to obey it. But the very 
 words " law " and "obligation " imply a penal sanction . 125 
 
XX t:iUM3IABY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 That there is an inseparable connection between wrong- 
 doing and punishment, is an organic instinct of con- 
 science : and instinct never deceives. Retribution is 
 " the other half of crime." The sanction implied in 
 the moral law is the violent restoration of the moral 
 order . . . . . . .127 
 
 The moral law, then, appi-ehendad, not made, by our 
 practical reason, implies that right is rewarded and 
 wrong punished. And here is the principle which 
 makes our criminal justice just. Penal jurispradence 
 is simply a moral judgment exhibited in visible form 129 
 
 At the root of criminal law lie two great instincts, to 
 avenge and to deter. Both must be recognised and 
 reckoned with. In the State the instinct of revenge is 
 moralised, and becomes, as retributive justice, an ex- 
 pression of the ethical might of the social organism . 130 
 
 The primitive rule was the lex talionis, and the principle 
 of that rule is everlastingly true, although, in our 
 deejier apprehension of the sacredness of human per- 
 sonality, we put aside the cruder application once 
 given to it by archaic jurisprudence . . . 131 
 
 Whether, then, we view the matter historically or philo- 
 sophically, punishment is primarily vindictive : the 
 magistrate is the dispenser of righteous retribu- 
 tion : "a revenger to execute wrath upon him that 
 doeth evil," the wrath being that which is due to the 
 wrongdoer as a person: the penalty which, by the 
 eternal law of Right, is the proper complement of his 
 crime ....... 134 
 
 But the concept of crime rests upon " the faculty of acting 
 according to the consciousness of laws " : and the 
 supreme question, in the world of thought, in these 
 days, is whether that faculty exists . . . 135 
 
SUMMARY. xxi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 For a plain man Dr. Johnson's rough-and-ready settlement 
 of it, " Sir, we know that our will is free and there's 
 an end of it," may suffice. For the philosophical 
 justification of this dictum, it is enough to appeal to 
 the categorical imperative of conscience. " I ought " 
 implies " I can " . . . . . 1.36 
 
 The self-determining power of the will genei'ates that 
 moral responsibility which supplies the rationale of 
 criminal justice. It alone gives validity to the idea 
 of Duty ...... 138 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. 
 
 Nothing is more clear than, that politicians generally, in 
 the present day, regard politics as a game to be 
 played, first, for themselves, and then for their 
 party, without any regard to ethical considerations . 141 
 
 Such is the unquestionable fact. And it is an expression 
 of the belief that public morality is quite a different 
 thing from private morality : that " of the classes of 
 obligations which constitute private morals, only one, 
 namely justice, has a place in public morals at all : 
 and that the justice which finds place in public 
 morals is totally different from the justice which 
 relates to individuals : and consists mainly in 
 moderation and kindly prudence." . . 146 
 
 c 
 
XXll 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Bat this prudential rule of right and wrong in politics, is 
 nothing else, in the long run, than respect for force : 
 it is the application of the doctrine of Hobbes that 
 right and wrong, justice and injustice, " have their 
 strength, not from their own nature but from the 
 fear of evil consequences on their rupture" . . 148 
 
 The special kind of force now dominant is the force of 
 numbers disguised as jjublic opinion, which is re- 
 garded as the very source and fount of right, of law, 
 of justice, in the public order . . . .150 
 
 In opposition to this doctrine, it must be maintained that 
 an absolute standard of Right and Wrong rules 
 throughout the universe : that to follow what reason 
 speaking through conscience dictates as right, is the 
 one rule of public as of private life . . .152 
 
 Politics ought to be conceived of as a branch of ethics. 
 The public conscience should dominate customs, 
 legislation, diplomacy. It is as " the passionless ex- 
 pression of general right" that the laws of a nation 
 have a claim on our obedience ... . 152 
 
 And so the limit of that claim is clear also. The first 
 principle of a man's ethical life is " to reverence his 
 conscience as his king." If the law formulated by 
 the community conflicts with the law within, it must 
 be disobeyed ...... 154 
 
 That Universal Reason which is the Supreme Rule of 
 Ethics, dominant over nations as over the indi- 
 viduals of whom they are composed, can no more be 
 violated by nations than by individuals, without in- 
 curring the retribution Avhich is the other half of 
 crime . . . . . . If^G 
 
SUMMARY. xxiii 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISBI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 What is called Democracy, that is the advent of the masses 
 to political poAver, is the dominant fact of modern 
 civilisation . . . . . . 159 
 
 It is manifestly impossible for the numerical majority, in 
 onr country, to comprehend by their own wit and 
 labour, even the elements of the political problems 
 which they are called upon to decide. Who shall 
 guide them ? . . . . . • 160 
 
 The newspaper press undertakes that office. What are 
 
 the rights and duties appertaining to it ? . . 161 
 
 The rights of the journalist may be summed up in the 
 phrase " the liberty of the press " : liberty to state 
 facts, to argue upon them, to denounce abuses, to 
 advocate reforms . . . . . 162 
 
 Such is the right of the journalist. What is the corre- 
 sponding duty ? It may be expressed in one word : 
 Veracity. The liberty of the press, like all liberty, 
 means action within the great principles of ethics. 
 The masses have a right to expect from the journal- 
 ist Avhat his reason and conscience dictate to him as 
 truth ....... 165 
 
 This is the journalist's vocation in ideal. What is it in 
 fact ? Probably, as a rule, truth is the last thing 
 the average jou.rnalist thinks about . . . 167 
 
 Unquestionably, joui-nalism is conducted under conditions 
 
 peculiarly inimical to the virtue of Veracity . .171 
 
XXIV 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 And, perhaps, it would not be too much to say that, during 
 the last quarter of a century, the newspaper press 
 has done more than anything else to de-ethicise 
 public life . • . • • .173 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF PROPERTY. 
 
 In the great question between Capital and Labour, now 
 before the world, the ultimate appeal must be to the 
 moral law. It is worth while therefore to consider 
 it from the point of view of Rational Ethics . . 174 
 
 Is there such a thing as a natural right to private ]oro- 
 
 perty ? . . . . . . . 177 
 
 There is. First, because a j)ropensity to joersonal acqui- 
 sition is a component of man's constitution : an organic 
 instinct, to which private property corresponds . 177 
 
 And, secondly, and far more, because private property is 
 necessary to the full idea of human personality. Its 
 ultimate ground is necessity, issuing from the reason 
 of things ...... 178 
 
 But the right to property — like all rights — becomes valid 
 only in civil society : it is conditioned by correlative 
 duties towards society, varying in extent according to 
 the degi^ee of civilisation and the circumstances of the 
 age, and is held in subordination to the supreme 
 claims of the social organism. It must be organised 
 in the commonwealth : that is, brought under the 
 dominion of reason ..... 181 
 
SU^[A[ABY. XXV 
 
 PAGE 
 Is it possible to maintain that the existing distribution of 
 wealth is reasonable ? a division which " instead of 
 being proportioned to the labour and abstinence of 
 the individual, is almost in an inverse ratio to it " . 188 
 
 It is not reasonable : it is not right (the two words mean 
 
 the same). " It is unjust, it cannot last" . . 185 
 
 One remedy proposed is " the transformation of Civilisa- 
 tion into Socialism." But this remedy is worse than 
 the disease ...... 188 
 
 The importance of Socialism does not lie in its crude and 
 monstrous theories, but in this : that it is " alike the 
 inevitable and indispensable protest of the working 
 classes, and the aspiration after a better order of 
 things " ...... 193 
 
 The only foundation on which that better order can be 
 
 reared is the moral law .... 193 
 
 Aquinas goes to the root of the matter when he teaches 
 that to render pi'operty lawful " the order of reason 
 must be observed : that is to say, that a man possess 
 justly what he owns, and that he use it in a proper 
 manner for himself and others "... 194 
 
 Unrestricted competition is unjust : the necessity of the 
 seller does not render it right to underpay him : to 
 give him less than a jnsfum prctium is to rob him. 
 Moreover to constitute freedom of contract there 
 must be parity of condition .... 194 
 
 As a matter of fact, to much of the wealth of the rich 
 classes in modern Europe the saying "La jiropriete 
 c'est le vol," is strictly applicable . . . 196 
 
xxvi SUM3fABY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 But even if a man's property lias been justly acquired, to 
 render his possession of it valid according to tlie 
 moral law, tliere lies upon him the obligation of em- 
 ploying it in a proper manner for himself and others. 
 He has not a right to do what he likes, but only 
 what he ought, with his own, which after all is his 
 own only in a qualified sense. The community is his 
 overlord : and the very constitution of civilised life 
 gives rise to the duty that ownership must be made 
 a common good to the community . . .199 
 
 So much is involved in "the order of reason" regarding 
 property. The task before the world is the re- 
 orsranisation of industry in accordance with these 
 dictates of the moral law . . . .199 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF MARBIAGE. 
 
 Our existing civilisation unquestionably rests vipon mar- 
 riage, as the Christian religion has shaped it : its 
 law, indissolubility, grounded upon the principle of 
 the spiritual equality of woman with man . . 203 
 
 But the State is everywhere ceasing to be Clmstian, and 
 one result of its secularisation is the supercession of 
 the old saci'amental foundation of the social order by 
 what is called " civil marriage " : a purely secular 
 contract, in which the indissoluble character of 
 mar-riage disappears .... 207 
 
SUMMARY. xxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Advanced thinkers" find tlie nuptial tie, even tliiis re- 
 laxed, too stringent, and desii-e to substitute for it 
 "anew sex relationship," which "both as to form 
 and substance " shall be " a pure question of taste, a 
 simple matter of agreement, between the man and 
 the woman, in which neither society nor the State 
 Avould have any need or right to interefere, unless it 
 result in children " . . . . . 209 
 
 They proceed on the assumption that Christianity is 
 liopelessly discredited. Let us suppose, for the sake 
 of argument, that this is so. Does it follow that 
 the doctrine concerning right and wrong in sexual 
 relations, which, as a matter of fact, the world has 
 received from Christianity, is also discredited P . 210 
 
 Most certainly not. The ethics taught by Christianity 
 are not an appendage to its theological mysteries. Its 
 Author left no code of scientific morality. The moral 
 law is ascertained, not from the announcements of 
 prophets, apostles, and evangelists, but from a natural 
 and permanent revelation of the Reason , .211 
 
 As regards the ethics of marriage, Christianity has un- 
 questionably promoted a truer conception of them by 
 its assertion of the fact and the rights of human 
 personality . . . . . .212 
 
 And by the new type of womanhojd introduced by it, and 
 idealised in the Madonna. " Born of a woman " is the 
 true account of the modern home, with all its moral- 
 ising influences ..... 213 
 
 Christianity has vindicated the conception of marriage, 
 in its nature essentially sacramental, as the blending 
 of two personalities in a social ox'ganism embracing 
 their Avhole existences, " no longci* twain, but one" . 214 
 
xxviii SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 This is the true ideal of marriage, the unity and indis- 
 solubility whereof issue from the nature of things 
 in their ethical relations. Christianity did but adopt 
 and consecrate that ideal, which " from the begin- 
 ning " was in the counsels of Eternal Reason . 216 
 
 'N'othing short of that ideal is adequate. And only when 
 it is recognised is the position of woman established 
 on its true ethical basis .... 218 
 
 CHArTER X. 
 
 THE BTHICS OF ART. 
 
 In the Art — taking the word u. the widest sense — of any 
 
 period, is the truest indication of its ethical character 221 
 
 The art of the nineteenth century is, speaking generally, 
 barren in nobleness, void of dignity, and wanting in 
 the attribute of soul ..... 222 
 
 The reason is because in the present day there is " a 
 decline in the more poetical and religious aspects of 
 man's nature " : and poetry and religion mean in- 
 spiration and life. Art has lost its height and 
 depth because it has lost " the ideal perspective " : it 
 has been derationalised and converted into mere 
 mechanism for the ]:)romotion of the Materialistic 
 " summum bonum " : agreeable feeling . . 225 
 
 The true theory of art is excellently formulated by Kant, 
 " Only the productions of liberty, that is of a volition 
 
SUMMARY. xxix 
 
 PAGE 
 whicli founds its actions upon reason, ought to be 
 called art." Ai-t seeks the reason and essence of 
 things. It is the external manifestation of the idea: 
 the revelation of the invisible reality through the 
 senses: an economy or accommodation whereby tran- 
 scendental verities are made accessible to us . . 227 
 
 It springs from the same fount as morality : both being 
 expressions of the same immutable truth, different 
 sides or aspects of the same thing : of reason, order, 
 harmony, right. Hence its ethical laws. Desire for 
 the beautiful or noble, which is the common element 
 of all the virtues, is also the basis of art . . 230 
 
 The laws of art are the laws of beauty. But the beautiful 
 is of the intellect, not of the senses, which merely 
 supply the artist with his raw material. The end of 
 the intellect is truth : and " the beautiful is the 
 splendour of the true " .... 231 
 
 It is " as absorbed in will, or thought, or spiritualised 
 nature," that the passions are fit material for art. 
 The test of the moral worth of a work of art is 
 whether the impression left upon a healthy mind is 
 sensuous or spiritual . . . ' . . 232 
 
 This applies to art, in the form of literature, as much as 
 to the arts of design. Art — all art — is essentially 
 one : and is governed by the same great laws, the 
 same immutable principles. Whether it is informed 
 by any true ideal, is the ultimate ethical criterion, in 
 judging of a work of art as in judging of that social 
 life whereof it is the counterfeit presentment . 233 
 
 Banish the ideal from the life of man, and he sinks below 
 the level of the lower animals. Such is the natural 
 frait of the philosophy which rejects the only rational 
 
 d 
 
XXX SUMMARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 conception of Right and Wrong, and degrades to the 
 region of molecular physics, conceptions properly 
 appertaining to the domains of the organic and the 
 spiritual . . . . . .235 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Province of Physics, a Rejoinder to Professor 
 
 Huxley . . . . . . 237-264 
 
 I have to thaiik the Editors of the Fortnightly Review and the 
 Fonim, for permission to incorporate in the present worh certain 
 contributions of mine to their respective Magazines. Arid I am. 
 indebted to my friend Mr. John Sharman Franey for his kindness 
 in reading the proof-sheets of this booh, and in favouring me 
 tvith several valiLable suggestions. 
 
 W. S. L. 
 
ON EIGHT AND WKONG. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CEISIS OF ETHICS. 
 
 I SUPPOSE the words Eight and Wrong enter more 
 largely into human life than any other. They 
 are among the first words uttered by children 
 at their play: "You have no right to do this!" 
 " That is wrong ! " They are most profusely used, 
 and abused, in the commonest affairs of daily exist- 
 ence, by the most ignorant and uncultivated, and 
 generally — ^ which is noteworthy — with an appeal 
 to the universal validity of the conceptions they 
 represent, as though, in the secure judgment of 
 all the earth, the gainsay er must be in bad faith. 
 Everyone talks of his rights as if they were the 
 easiest things in the world to pronounce upon. 
 And yet how difficult are the problems which may 
 be raised regarding even the simplest and least 
 questioned of them. Parental right, for example, 
 springing as it does from the most sacred of human 
 
2 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [en. 
 
 relations, liow easy to deride and decry it, if we 
 regard merely the blind irrational impulse to wliicli 
 eacli individual, the accident of an accident, owes 
 liis 2^1'ocreation. Again, think how large a part of 
 human activity is consumed in the endeavour, mostly 
 fruitless, to settle questions of right. The whole 
 machinery of jurisprudence, with its legislatures, 
 its courts of various instance, its judges, advocates, 
 and attorneys, attends continually upon this very 
 thing. But the glorious uncertainty of the law has 
 become a byword. Fleets and armies are still the 
 last resource of civilisation for determining the 
 rights of nations. Now, as in the time of Brennus, 
 the sword is the ultimate makeweight in the scale 
 of justice. It may be said that the liistory of right, 
 throughout the ages, is one long martyrdom. It is 
 ever being crucified afresh and put to an open shame:, 
 Speaking generally, however, we may assert that 
 the idea of Right* has hitherto been venerated by 
 
 * Austin, in his Province of Jurisjn'udence Determined (p. 257), 
 has a \o\^^ note on what he calls " the two nieanina;-s " of " riffht " 
 " which ought to be carefully distinguished." "The noun substan- 
 tive, ' a right,' " he observes, " signifies that which jurists call a 
 faculty .... but the exjiression 'right,' Avhen it is used as an 
 adjective, is equivalent to the adjective 'just.' " And he complains 
 that "these widely different, though not unconnected terms .... 
 are confounded by many of the German writers on the sciences of 
 law and morality, as by Kant, for example." The truth is that 
 Austin, Avhose metaphysical attainments were of no very higli 
 order, was himself misled by the Utilitarian doctrine which, from 
 first to last, held captive his noble mind ; in spite of his efforts, 
 at times, to break away from it, into the freedom of worthier con- 
 
/ 
 
 I.] RIGHT AND RIGHTS. 3 
 
 mankind at large as supersensuous, absolute, divine. 
 The rights, whether of nations or of the individuals 
 of whom they are composed, have been held to rest 
 upon an ethical sanction, and that upon noumenal 
 truth. Justice has been accounted a matter of the 
 Avill, according to the dictum of the Roman juris- 
 consult, Justitia est constans et perpetua voluntas jus 
 suum cuique iribuendi. Culpability has been referred, 
 not to the exterior act, but to the interior mental 
 state, Mens rea facit reum. The world, on the 
 whole, has not doubted that what is right exists by 
 nature, that universal obligation is a prime note of 
 it, that an infringement of it entails, according to the 
 "unwritten and immutable laws of the gods, "retri- 
 butive suffering upon the wrong- doer. These were, 
 
 coptions. The German writers, whom he censures, saw clearly 
 what was hidden from his eyes, that the two terms are not merely 
 "not unconnected," but are, in their ultimate source, one ; that 
 it is the very office of what is called Natarrecht, as Trendelenburg 
 expresses it, " so to deduce the multiplicity of rights from the self- 
 same fount, that they may be exhibited as governed by the unity of 
 an inherent co-ordinating thought." I know not where to turn for 
 a better exposition of this most important matter, than to the clear 
 and cogent thinker, from the introduction to whose Natarrecht 
 auf dem Grunde der EihiJc I am quoting. The first fifteen sections 
 of that admirable work are a masterpiece of luminous and logical / 
 I discussion, issuing in tlie conclusion: V'Tlie separation of Law and^v 
 
 Morality, of Legislation and Ethics, which results in the mere ^^^^^"^-^ 
 
 ^) external legality of the Pharisees, must be abandoned. That false.^^^ *^' 
 
 I independence of Jurisprudence, which claims to be regarded as an^/ /L-r-w-*'^ 
 
 I advance of science, has not only perverted Right in its theory, ' ' /^ , 
 
 \ but has stripped it of its dignity in the life of men ; has led to '^^^„.^--- 
 
 representations of it as mere mechanism, and has emptied it of its 
 ( vivifying idea." \ 
 
 b2 
 
 
4 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 for long ages, the generally accepted data of moral 
 philosophy. I do not, of course, mean that the vast 
 majority of men have ever held them as philosophers. 
 They made their way into the popular mind through 
 the religioustraditions which are the only philosophies 
 available for the multitude. The morality of the 
 old civilisation of Egypt, of India, of Judea, was 
 bound up with 'their religions. The same may be 
 said of the ancient phase of Hellenic and, more 
 strongly still, of Eoman civilisation. It is the 
 special glory of Buddhism that it upheld the do- 
 minion of the moral law over gods, and men, and 
 the whole of sentient existence. To Christianity 
 the human race owes the supreme enforcement of 
 the autonomy of conscience as the voice of Him 
 whom it is better to obey than man. But now the 
 old ethical conceptions are everywhere falling into 
 discredit. The very j^rinciples on which the ideas 
 of right and wrong have hitherto rested are very 
 widely questioned, nay, more than questioned. 
 " No one," observes a thoughtful writer, " can deny 
 either the reality or the intensity of the actual crisis 
 of morality. Nor is the crisis confined to certain 
 questions of casuistry. On the contrary, it extends to 
 the most general rules of conduct, and, through those 
 rules, to the very principles of ethics themselves."* 
 I believe these words of M. Beaussire to be 
 profoundly true. It seems to me that we are living 
 in a crisis of the world's history; a great crisis, for 
 * Beaussire, Lea Frincipes de la Morale^ p. 20. 
 
I.] MORALITY AND METAPHYSICS. 5 
 
 it is a moral crisis. Fifty years ago Jouifroy wrote 
 his celebrated article, " Comment finisscnt les 
 dogmes." lie had in view religious dogmas only, 
 and especially the distinctive tenets of Christianity. 
 He might now, were he alive, discuss the question 
 in a much wider sense. Philosoj^hy, as well as 
 religion, has its traditional bases. Certain it is, as 
 mere matter of history, apart from all controversy, 
 that the ethical ideas which have hitherto ruled the 
 conduct of mankind, have rested upon metaphysical 
 credenda. As certain is it that the postulates of 
 the old philosophy — a First Cause, by which the 
 universe was brought into existence, and that for a 
 good end, the personality of man, his limited and 
 conditioned liberty and moral responsibility, the 
 immateriality and immortality of the Ego, the abso- 
 lute nature of ethics — certain it is that these things 
 are now very commonly put aside as antiquated 
 delusions. Kant is no less discredited than Jesus 
 Christ in the eyes of the prophets of Materialism. 
 The Practical Eeason fares as badly as the Christian 
 Revelation at the hands of the sages of Positivism. 
 Nay, every newspaper hack of Continental Liberalism 
 is ready with his gibe at M. de I'Absolu and ]\Idlle. 
 lA'me. In the novel, in the play, in the babble of 
 the drawing-room or the dinner-table, the most 
 august and venerable of ethical doctrines are called 
 in question and denied. Even the supreme authority 
 of conscience is impugned. To its "thou must" 
 the answer is prompt : " On what compulsion must 
 
6 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 I? tell me that!" Its " dogmatism " is contemp- 
 tuously rejected, for physical science — the only 
 science — is supposed to have given an explanation 
 of it, fatal alike to its authoritativeness and its coer- 
 civeness. No longer may we account of it with St. 
 Paul, as the divine law written in the heart. It is 
 exhibited to us as nothing more than " the capi- 
 talised experience of the tribe " : its obligation 
 sublimated selfishness, its sanction a brain track. 
 " The theory of an independent or autonomous con- 
 science," Mr, Leslie Stephen confidently declares, is 
 '' part of an obsolete form of speculation."* Certain 
 it is that every civilisation which the world has as 
 yet known, has been reared upon an ethical, not a 
 2}hysical foundation. A common belief in dogmas 
 of morality — I use the word dogmas advisedly — 
 has hitherto been the very condition of social 
 cohesion. To speak of Europe only, its public 
 order has ever been based upon the conviction, 
 deep down in the hearts of all, at the very root of 
 their moral and spiritual being, that man was 
 encompassed by duties — duties which, however 
 grudgingly performed or brutally violated, in 
 countless instances, were everywhere undoubtedly 
 recognised as the divinely imj^oscd laws of life. 
 So long as a moral code exists, and is generally 
 acknowledged and revered, the fact of individual 
 deflections from it, whether they be more or less 
 numerous, is of comparatively small importance. Ifc 
 * Science of Ethics, p. 314. 
 
I.] THE TRADE OF THE SOPHIST. 7 
 
 is the invalidation of the moral code, the prevalence 
 of ethical agnosticism, the scepticism as to all first 
 principles of conduct, which I accomit so porten- 
 tous a sign of our own times. '' Deest remedii 
 locus, ubij qua) vitia fuerunt, mores fiunt." 
 
 Now, to what must we attribute this crisis of 
 ethics? I answer, without hesitation, to the advance 
 which Materialism has made in the general mind. 
 And here, in order to make good my way, I 
 must enter upon an explanation. ''Words are 
 grown so false, I am loth to prove reason with them," 
 says the Clown in Tiuelfth Night. The saying 
 constantly comes to my mind in dealing with the 
 philosophical controversies of the present day. 
 Rigorous definition, careful analysis, precise classi- 
 fication, are no longer in favour. It is an age of 
 loose thinking, and of looser writing; of "idle 
 words, servants to shallow fools." Never, perhaj^s, 
 was there an age in which the trade of the sophist, 
 whose business it is " to make the worse reason 
 aj^pear the better," was carried on so successfully. 
 Never was there an age in which a writer who feels 
 that he is " a teacher or nothing," had greater 
 need of well-considered and accurate lanfruajre. 
 It is necessary, therefore, that before proceeding 
 further with my argument, I should state clearly 
 what I mean b}^ Materialism. There are those who 
 would restrict it to a doctrine now discredited for 
 
8 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [oh. 
 
 higlier minds. What we know of living forces, of 
 the real properties of bodies, is irreconcilable with 
 the old notion of matter, reduced merely to solidity 
 and extension. Our better acquaintance with the 
 physiology of the sense organs should have made an 
 end of the sensism, which Professor Clifford con- 
 temptuously calls " the crass Materialism of the 
 savage." It lingers, however, in the lower intel- 
 lectual regions. Nay, more, it is still widely held 
 there. ''II est des morts qu'il faut qu'on tue," we 
 may say of this ''crass Materialism." My present 
 point, however, is that this coarse and vulgar theory 
 is by no means the only form of Materialism. Nor 
 is it the form under which Materialism is most 
 potently working in the world just now. The more 
 subtle doctrines which have arisen upon the ruins of 
 the old materialistic hypothesis are, in all essentials, 
 identical with it. Positivism, Phenomenism, and 
 much that passes current as Agnosticism, are mere 
 varieties of Materialism ; sublimated ex2:>ressions of 
 it, perhaps, but true expressions, having in them 
 the root of the matter. 
 
 Now here I am conscious of a difficulty. Is it 
 fair, one may be asked, to impose the name of 
 Materialist upon those who, more or less energeti- 
 cally, repudiate it ? I think it is fair, and, more, 
 that it is a duty, if the name truly describes them. 
 Take, for example, the late Mr. Clifford. As we 
 have just seen, he rejects, emphatically, " the crass 
 Materialism of the savage"; but only to substitute for 
 
I.] OLD AND NEW MATERIALISM. 9 
 
 it a Materialisiii wliicli is, indeed, more refined, l)iit 
 wliicli is also, as it seems to me, more irrational. 
 His biographer, Sir Frederick Pollock,* claims that 
 his view is, in truth, " idealist monism, a very 
 subtle form of idealism," and points out that his 
 conception of the ultimate reality is ''mind; not 
 mind as we know it in the comf)lex forms of 
 thought and feeling, but the simpler elements out 
 of which thought and feeling are built up." Well, 
 of course, Materialism affects to be monistic, for it 
 seeks to explain the whole universe in terms of 
 matter. But how is Mr. Clifford's monism idealis- 
 tic ? The element, of which " even the simplest 
 feeling is a complex," he calls " mind-stuff." 
 "Matter," he tell us, "is the mental picture of 
 which mind is the thing represented. Reason, 
 intelligence, and volition are properties of a com- 
 plex, which is made up of elements themselves not 
 rational, not intelligent, not conscious." Is it 
 possible. Sir Frederick Pollock himself being judge, 
 to call this doctrine idealism ? This " mind-stuff," 
 which, we are told, is the thing-in-itself, of which 
 " a moving molecule of organic matter possesses a 
 small piece," and which, " when matter takes the 
 complex form of a living human brain, takes the 
 form of a human consciousness, havina; intellio-ence 
 and volition " — how is it possible to account of this 
 " mind-stuff " as anything but matter? 
 
 * Sec his very interesting Introduction to Lectures and Ess(X)/s 
 by the h\te William Kingdon Clillbrcl," p. 39. 
 
10 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 Again, consider the teaching of Professor Huxley. 
 With whatever rhetorical ornaments he may gild it, 
 what is its practical outcome l)ut Materialism ?* 
 I am well aware of his opinion that the question 
 " whether there is really anything anthropomorphic, 
 even in man's nature," will ever remain an open 
 one. I do not lose sight of his recognition of '' the 
 necessity of cherishing the noblest and most human 
 of man's emotions by worship, for the most part of 
 the silent sort, at the altar of the Unknown and 
 Unknowable." ' But, on the other hand, I remember 
 his positive declaration that " consciousness is a 
 function of nervous matter, when that nervous 
 matter has attained a certain degree of organisa- 
 tion." : I remember, too, his confident anticipation 
 that '' wo shall sooner or later arrive at a mechanical 
 equivalent of consciousness, just as we have arrived 
 at a mechanical equivalent of heat." And I do not 
 forget that singularly powerful passage in his 
 Lay Sermons — who that has once read it can 
 forofet it ? — in which he enforces what he deems 
 ''the great truth," that "the progress of science 
 has, in all ages, meant, and now, more than ever, 
 means, the extension of the province of what we 
 call matter and causation, and the concomitant 
 gradual banishment, from all regions of human 
 thought, of what we call spirit and spontaneity ; " 
 that, " as surely as every future grows out of past 
 and present, so will the physiology of the future 
 * See the Appendix, pp. 245-262. 
 
I.] THE UNKNOWN AND UNKNOWABLE. U 
 
 gradually extend the realm of matter and law until 
 it is co-extensive Avitli knowledge, with feeling, and 
 with action." 
 
 Once more. Let us turn to a teacher more 
 widely influential, perhajDS, than even Mr. Huxley. 
 I mean Mr. Herbert Spencer. He, too, recognises 
 " an Unknown and Unknowable Power without 
 beginning or end in time." He tells us expressly, 
 in his Psychology, that consciousness cannot l3e a 
 mode of movement, and that if we must choose 
 between these two modes of being, as the genera- 
 tive and primitive mode, it would be the first, and 
 not the last, which he would choose. These say- 
 ings certainly do not sound like Materialism. I 
 think, however, that if we closely examine liis 
 writings, we shall find the ^persistence of force his 
 one formula. I With that — if you will permit him 
 to use it in a double sense— he Avill bring for you 
 life out of the non-living ; morality out of the 
 unmoral ; the psychical out of the physical. True 
 it is that this " force " is presented to us as 
 a manifestation of the Unknowable. But what 
 difference can the Unknowable make to the mass of 
 men ? I am far from denying that to Mr. Spencer 
 himself, and his more subtle and refined disciples, it 
 may make a great deal of difference, to be able to 
 turn from his speculative physics, to worship, in 
 taciturnity, they know not wliat. But systems of 
 philosophy penetrate the general mind, and exercise 
 influence over the vast mass of men, who are not 
 
12 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [cii- 
 
 sul)tle and refined. And, unquestionably, tlic por- 
 tion of Mr. Spencer's philosophy which is most 
 widely received, and believed, is not his doctrine 
 of the Unknowable. " Parson, this is no time 
 for conundrums," said the dying Confederate 
 soldier, to the minister of religion, who inquired, 
 " Do you believe in God ? " To the vast majority 
 of the combatants in the battle of life, Mr. Spencer's 
 Unknowable must be a mere conundrum ; and they 
 give it up. For theni, his teaching assumes the 
 form of a crude disbelief in whatever lies out of 
 the senses' grasp. He calls his system "transfigured 
 realism." But the multitude are, and ever must 
 be, plain realists. I feel very sure that the prac- 
 tical effect of Mr. Spencer's philosophy has been, to 
 promote the elevation of materialism into the 
 reigning creed of the day in the English-speaking 
 races. That all beings, all modes and forms of 
 existence, are but transformations of force, obeying 
 only mechanical laws, the laws of movement — this, 
 assuredly, is what Mr. Spencer's doctrine prac- 
 tically amounts to, if there is any meaning in 
 words. He, indeed, protests against the application 
 to matter of such epithets as '' gross" or " brute." 
 He delights to expatiate on its wonderful proper- 
 ties ; and in his latest work he speaks of ''a universe 
 everywhere alive ; alive, if not in a restricted 
 sense, at least in a general sense." Still the fact 
 remains that Mr. Spencer seeks to interpret all 
 things in terms of matter and motion, and holds 
 
I.] NAMES AND THINGS. 13 
 
 1 life to be a mere result of physical forces. There 
 are only two conceivable hypotheses open to us.* 
 V Either Nature is the outcome of Intellect, or Intel- 
 '^, lect is the outcome of Nature. Mr. Spencer's 
 teaching, considered as a whole, is an elaborate 
 argument on behalf of the latter of these hypotheses. 
 And what is this but. Materialism ? 
 
 Mr. Spencer, indeed, calls himself a Realist. Pro- 
 fessor Huxley is sometimes called an Idealist: a de- 
 scription which he would doubtless reject, although 
 there are certain passages in his writings which war- 
 rant it.f And, as we have seen, the friend who has 
 written so well about the late Professor Clifford, calls 
 him an Idealistic Monist. Sir Frederick Pollock, in- 
 deed, goes on to observe, "It is hardly worth while 
 to dispute about names, wlien more serious things 
 remain for discussion." These words seem to me 
 in themselves a revelation, not, indeed, of light, 
 but of darkness ; they give us a glimpse of chaos 
 and the void inane. Surely names are the signs 
 of, nay the substitutes for, ideas ; formulas summing 
 up for us, briefly, it may be a train of reasoning, 
 a series of sensations, a multitude of images. Un- 
 less we use them as parrots do, which, to be sure, 
 is the habit of many people, they stand to us in 
 the place of things. Hence tlie immense import- 
 ance, upon which I have already touched, of exact 
 terminology. If our nomenclature is vague, we 
 shall be continually mistaking one tiling for another. 
 * See p. 63. t '^'^^ ^^^ Appendix, pp. 242, 253. 
 
14 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 " Pantlieism or Pottheism — what matter, so long 
 as it is true ? " Mr. Carlyle asked. But my present 
 inquiry is not if tlie teaching, whether of the 
 late Mr. Clifford, of Mr. Huxley, of Mr. Herbert 
 Spencer, is true, but what tliat teaching- really is. 
 And my contention is that all these three gifted 
 men, whom I select as types of a host of less 
 famous writers widely influential on English 
 thought, must in strictness be reckoned as Mate- 
 rialists. All three do, in effect, restrict our know- 
 ledge to the phenomenal universe, of which con- 
 sciousness and will are, for them, fortuitous or 
 necessary products. All three do, in effect, teach 
 that the laws of thought, are, in the last resort, 
 only sensations, or induced tendencies of the 
 nervous system. All three do, in effect, express 
 the entire man by matter, his intellectual and moral 
 being as well as his corporal frame. Now I am 
 far from asserting that there is anything to prevent 
 us from being spiritualists in psychology, while in 
 cosmology we accept the dynamical explanation, 
 and confess that everywhere in the universe are 
 forces and centres of forces. But that is very 
 different from the view which resrards intellect 
 as a mode of motion, or as a manifestation of phy- 
 sical energy. " The faculties of the mind, feeling 
 and will," writes Mr. Frederic Harrison, '-'are 
 directly dependent upon the physical organs. To 
 talk to me of mind, feeling, will, in the absence of 
 physical organs, is to use language which to me. 
 
I.] TWO SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT. 15 
 
 at least, is pure nonsense." Mr. Harrison's creed, 
 it would appear, may be summed up in the simple 
 sj-mbol, "I believe in tlic brain, the viscera, and 
 the reproductive apparatus." He cannot conceive 
 of Deity save as abdominous. This very elo- 
 quent and very positive writer has the courage 
 of 'his opinions. But, as it seems to me, the doc- 
 trines of Professor Clifford, of Professor Huxley, of 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer, in their ultimate resolution, 
 are substantially at one with his. Whatever dif- 
 ferences divide these eminent men from one 
 another, they all agree in putting aside, as un- 
 verifiable, everything Vvdiicli the senses cannot 
 verify ; everything beyond the bounds of phj^sical 
 science ; everything which cannot be brought into 
 a laboratory and dealt with chemically.* Their new 
 Phenomenism is simply old Materialism, decked 
 out in incongruous metaj^hysical trappings, bor- 
 rowed chiefly from Hume and Kant. It will be 
 found, I say, in the long run, that there are two, 
 and only two schools of thouglit, which I shall 
 denominate \Transcendentalism and Materialism, 
 until better terms are forthcoming. Transcen- 
 dentalism looks beyond experience for the explana- 
 tion of the universe, and holds it as a fundamental 
 truth that the nature of our thinking being imposes 
 
 * Sucli appears to me the inevitable logical issue of the proposi- 
 tions to wliich tlioy have committed themselves : and I maintain 
 that we have a right, nay, that we are hound, to debit them with the 
 consequences of their own premises. See the Appendix, pp. 256-8. 
 
L6 THE CBLSIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 our way of conceiving, of valuing, and even of 
 apprehending sensible things. Materialism main- 
 tains that in those sensible things must be sought 
 the explanation of our ideas and of our wills. 
 Transcendentalism postulates a First Cause possess- 
 ing perfect freedom, and recognises true causality 
 in man also, witli his endowment of limited and 
 conditioned liberty of the will. Materialism holds 
 that we can know nothing beyond phenomena, 
 denies causation, in the proper sense of the word, 
 \ and demands, in the words of Mr. Huxley, ''the 
 \ banishment from all regions of human thought of 
 what we call spirit and spontaneity." Transcen- 
 dentalism insists upon the unity of our conscious- 
 ness, upon the ichheit des Ego — the selfhood of the 
 Me — as tlie original and ultimate fact of man's 
 existence. Materialism dissolves the Eo-o into a 
 stream of sensations, makes of consciousness an 
 accidental and superficial effect of mechanism, and 
 exhibits man as a mere sequence of physical action 
 and reaction. Transcendentalism maintains tlie 
 absolute nature of ethics : the immutable distinction 
 between moral good and moral evil. Materialism 
 refers everything to heredity, temperament, en- 
 vironment, convention. Transcendentalism affirms 
 the supersenuous, yes, let us venture upon the 
 word, the supernatural, in man, and finds irrefra- 
 gable evidence of it in 
 
 " tliis main miracle, that thou art thoxi, 
 With ])Ower on tliinc own act, and on tlic world." 
 
£.] TBE ADVANCE OF MATERIALISM. 17 
 
 Materialism makes of the soul, with Professor Tyn- 
 dall, "a poetical rendering of a phenomenon which 
 refuses the }^oke of ordinary mechanical laws," 
 explains will and conscience as merely a little force 
 and heat organised, and, in Coleridge's pungent 
 phrase, ^' peej^s into death to look for life, as 
 monkeys put their hands behind a looking-glass." 
 Such are the two schools of thought which are 
 dividing the intellect of the world. 
 
 Now, I take it, that one of the most striking 
 signs of the times is the extent to which Material- 
 ism has triumphed throughout Europe. Fifty or 
 sixty years ago it might well have seemed as though 
 Kant had made an end in Germany of the doctrine 
 which, derived by i\\Q philosophes of the last cen- 
 tury from Locke, had been carried to its logical 
 . issue by Cabanis and Condillac. In England the 
 school of Reid was, in some sort, doing a similar 
 work. In France the influence of Royer Collard, 
 JMaine de Biran, Jouffroy, and Cousin— all, Avhat- 
 ever their differences, firmly attached to the main 
 principles of Transcendentalism — was dominant. 
 In Italy the works of Pasquale Galuppi had diffused 
 some knowledge of the critical philosophy, and 
 Rosmini's New Ussay on the Origin of Ideas had 
 made its way into many seminaries. Now, all is 
 changed. In Germany a school has arisen based 
 on the empirical doctrines supposed to have been 
 
 c 
 
18 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [cii. 
 
 for ever discarded, but giving to them a new and 
 more precise form. Of its many able exponents it 
 must suffice here to mention only one, Hcrr 
 Biichner, whose book on Force and Matter has had 
 an immense success in his own country, and lias 
 been translated, I believe, into well-nigh all 
 European languages. M. Janet, no mean judge, 
 reckons it "the tersest, frankest, and clearest 
 system of Materialism which has appeared in 
 Europe since the famous Systeme dela Nature^ It 
 is true that in Germany the influence of these new 
 Materialistic doctrines would appear to be on the 
 wane. They are not specially fitted to recommend 
 themselves to the Teutonic mind, with its innate 
 bias to idealism. And they have been vigorously 
 combated by a number of extremely able writers, 
 foremost among whom must be reckoned Lange 
 and Hartmann, Uh'ici and Lotze. Yet no one can 
 carefully study contemporary German literature 
 without i^erceiving how potential still is the school 
 whicli relies wholly ujoon the positive sciences, and 
 puts aside entirely psychology and metaphysics. 
 Its prevalence in England may be sufficiently indi- 
 cated by merely mentioning the names of the three 
 accomplished scientists at whose teaching we have 
 already glanced, the late Professor Clifford, Pro- 
 fessor Huxley, and Mr. Herbert Spencer, not to 
 speak of Professor Tyndall. But if we would see 
 this way of thinking have free course, if we would 
 fully realise the inglorious liberty of the sons of 
 
1.] SCIENTIFIC MxlTEItlALISM. 19 
 
 matter, it is upon France that we must gaze. In 
 that country, at the present moment, the most 
 widely influential school is unquestionably the me- 
 dico-atheistic: I the school whicli inculcates sensism 
 of the grossest kind, which reeks of the brothel 
 and the torture trough. '' A very superficial and 
 gross Positivism," M. Beaussire tells us, " seems 
 to have taken possession of well-nigh all souls." * 
 A remnant, indeed, is left in tlie higher regions of 
 French thought, wliicli has not bowed the knee to 
 the Baal of Dead Mechanism, nor joined itself 
 to the Dung God. But unquestionably the two 
 greatest intellectual forces in France at the present 
 time are M. Eenan and M. Taine, neither of whom 
 can be claimed by Transcendentalism. I do not lose 
 sight of the many magnificent passages in which 
 M. Renan pays homage to the supersensuous, the 
 ideal, tlie divine. Yet there is ever before him the 
 haunting suspicion that, after all, Gavroche may 
 be right; that "jouir et mepriser " may be the 
 last word of the true philosopher. There are those 
 wlio find the secret of his transitions of thought, in 
 the famous 7}iot of M. Sardou's comedv, "■ J'ai assez 
 pratique le moncle pour savoir qu'on n'a jamais que 
 la conviction de ses interets." There are those, 
 again, who tell us, that in his profound and serene 
 
 * Les Principes de la Morale, p. 4. The extremely striking 
 Introduction — whence my citation is taken — attracted mucli notice 
 ■when it appeared oriii'inally in the lierue des Deux Mondcs of 
 August 1, l.SS-i. 
 
 c2 
 
20 THE GEISI8 OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 intellect, every passing- phase of contem2)orary specu- 
 lation is reflected, like the clouds in the bosom of the 
 calm ocean. I am not ambitious to decide which 
 explanation is the true one. It is enough for me 
 to point to his own account of himself, which is 
 that he does not know whether or no he is a 
 Materialist. '' Je ne sais bien si je suis spiritualiste 
 ou materialiste. Le but dumonde, c'estl'ideo : mais 
 je ne connais pas un cas oii I'idee se soit jiroduite sans 
 maticre : je ne connais pas d'esprit pur, ni d'oeuvre 
 d'esprit j^ur." M. Taine has of late years been 
 most prominently before the world as the first 
 living historian of his country, perhaps of any 
 country. But we must not forget that his high 
 place, among contemporary thinkers, was first Avon 
 as a philosopher. A closely knit system his is, 
 indeed. But what a system ! A system of me- 
 chanism and fatality, dealing with the universe as 
 an immense and eternal series of visible movements, 
 more or less complex, ail reducible to invisible 
 movements, obeying the laws of pliysics. Reason, 
 Intelligence, Will, Personality are for him mere 
 metaphors, \ He explains them by mechanism and 
 movement. The intellect he regards as a thinking 
 machine, just as the stomach is a digesting machine. 
 He will speak of the soul, if you please ; but, like 
 Mr. Tyndall, he warns you, that you must take it 
 merely as a poetical expression, a rhetorical figure. 
 With reason did Michelet, after reading his ad- 
 mirably written book On Intelligence^ exclaim in 
 
\ 
 
 I.] POPULAn MATERIALISM. 21 
 
 dismay, ''II mo i^rend mon moi." Franco, after 
 all, is still the country in which the movements of 
 the European mind may be most fruitfully studied. 
 If Germany is the mine of ideas, France it is which 
 mints them and makes them current coin. Intel- 
 lectually considered, Italy and Spain are little more 
 than outlying provinces of France, and her influence 
 upon English and Teutonic thinkers, if less magis- 
 terial, is hardly less effective. 
 
 I consider, then, that if we survey the higher 
 thought of Europe, as a whole, we must find it 
 largely given over to Materialism. And if we turn 
 to the more po^^ular literature, in which is the truest 
 expression of society, the same tale is unfolded. 
 How largely has it lost itself in a so-called 
 "realism," devoid of that ethical sentiment, with- 
 out which, Goethe has well observed, "the actual is 
 the vulgar, the low, the gross." The art of the 
 novelist in particular, how very genei'ally is it 
 degraded to the delineation of what the author of 
 Saplio — no mean authority on such a subject — 
 calls '' ces amours de chair ; " those merely animal 
 loves, wherein, he tells us, "there is no esteem, 
 no respect for the object of the passion, and 
 brutality ever wells up, whether in anger or in 
 caresses." ' What a portent is that large and ever- 
 growing school of '' naturalistic " fiction of which 
 M. Zola is the honoured and prosperous chief, and 
 which is so eagerly read, and so largely imitated, 
 throughout the civilised world! " Toute meta- 
 
22 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 physique m'epouvante " this master tells us. His 
 works, he claims, are conceived in the true '' scien- 
 tific " spirit. Matter is for him the only reality, 
 and in its honour he raises pceans "like the shrieks 
 of a hya3na at discovering that the universe is all 
 actually carrion."" But it is not merely in the 
 literature of the erotic passion, of the genetic 
 impulse, that the mark of the beast is plainly 
 visible. How many a grave writer of our day has 
 acquired a reputation for originality, simply upon 
 the strength of a fantastic physical terminology. 
 \Instead of intellect, he speaks of nervous centres ; 
 instead of life, of the play of cellular activities ; 
 instead of mental energy, of cerebral erethism .\ 
 And his readers, piquing themselves on their distrust 
 of every tiling outside the sphere of what they call 
 facts, "wonder with a foolish face of praise." In 
 truth every branch of intellectual activity bears 
 witness to the advance of Materialism in the 
 popular mind ; to the dying out of the old spiritual 
 and ideal types. Thus, in politics, we see tlie 
 domination of the brute force of numbers, of ma- 
 jorities told by head, becoming almost everywhere 
 an accomplished fact. The instincts and passions 
 of the masses are accepted as the supreme law, 
 in the place of justice and virtue, of reason and 
 religion. Art, too, has bowed her sacred head to 
 the Materialistic yoke. Tlie true function of tlie 
 artist, as of the metaphysician, is to seek the reason 
 and essence of things. But while to the philosopher 
 
].] MATERIALISM AND ART. 23 
 
 tliis reason and essence are revealed in a principle, 
 in a general conception, to the artist tliey are 
 revealed in a concrete form, as individual beauty. 
 Both are seekers after truth ; but the beautiful is 
 the splendour of the true, and the sense of beauty is 
 the light of the intellect. Materialism quenches 
 tliat light. All that the artist now usually aims at, 
 is to copy exactly, to reproduce phenomena. And 
 here, indeed, he attains some measure of success, 
 especially if tlie phenomena be of the lupanarian 
 order. Well has Mr. Ruskin pronounced the art 
 of our own time to be "a poor toy, petty or vile." 
 Perhaps its portraits are its most valuable achieve- 
 ment. But their value is rather historical than 
 artistic ; they tell their own tale about the men and 
 women of the age. What that tale is, a distinguished 
 French critic not long ago pointed out. They are 
 the abstract and brief chronicle, he observed, in 
 which is written the spiritual history of our century. 
 ^During the first half of it, the neck is thrown back, 
 the head is upturned towards heaven, as if in quest 
 of some ideal vision. As we draw towards our own 
 days, the neck contracts, the head sinks nearer the 
 shoulders, as though by the instinctive movement 
 of a bull gathering himself up for the combat. It 
 is because the battle of life has become more intense, 
 because the mind is concentrated upon the material 
 interests of the world. The habit of thought — 
 curious verification of a law of Darwin's — has 
 transformed the physical habit, A most delicate 
 
24 ^ TEE CEISIS OF ETEIG8. [ch. 
 
 and sensitive intellect — to whom British Plilllstin- 
 isrn, with its " certitude de mauvais gout," has 
 largely paid the homage of its contumely and scorn 
 — notes tlie same fact in his own way. The 
 substitution of the laws of dead matter for the laws 
 of the moral nature, the subjection of the soul to 
 things, ''ecraser I'homme spirituel, depersonaliser 
 I'homme " is, as Amiel discerned, the dominant 
 tendency of the times. It appears to me that if 
 you survey the civilised world you find everywhere 
 the same tokens. Everywhere I note the practical 
 triumph of that \ earth-to-earth philosophy \Avhich 
 \will see nothing beyond '^ experience," which shuts 
 off the approach of science to all that cannot be 
 /weighed and measured. Everywhere literature and 
 art are losing themselves in the most vulgar sen- 
 suousness. Look throughout Euroj^e, and what, in 
 every country, are the great majority of the 
 educated classes, who give the tone to the rest ? 
 Sceptics in religion, doubters in ethics, given over 
 to industrialism, and to the exact sciences which 
 minister to it, respecting nothing but accomplished 
 fact and palpable force, with nerves more sensitive 
 than their hearts, seeking to season the platitude of 
 existence by a more cr less voluptuous ^cstheticism, 
 a more or less prurient hedonism. Such are the 
 men of this new age. The intellectual atmosphere 
 is charged with Materialism : and we may see the 
 effects of its corroding action in all the most im- 
 portant departments of human life. 
 
.</ 
 
 I.] MATERIALISM AND PENAL LAW. 25 
 
 Consider only two. The bond of civil society is 
 obedience to law, fenced round with penalties ; but 
 legislation rests uj^on the doctrine of human respon- | 
 sibility. " AVill," Kant tells us, " is a kind of 
 causaLLty belonging to living agents in so far as 
 they are rational ; and freedom is such a property 
 of causality as enables them to be efficient agents 
 independently of outside causes determining them ; 
 as, on the other hand, necessity is that property of 
 all irrational beings, which consists in their being 
 determined to activity by the influence of outside 
 causes. "*y This conception of human freedom under- 
 lies the notion of crime. Yes ; the sense of crime 
 is bound up Avith the belief in man's power of 
 choice, and in his obligation to choose right!}'. 
 AVhere there is no faculty to judge of acts, as right 
 or wrong, and to elect between them, as in a young 
 child or a lunatic, there is no criminal responsibility, 
 for there are no free persons. Personality manifests 
 itself under the condition of free will, influenced 
 but not coerced by motives ; a w^ill which has 
 the power of choice between two alternative courses, fi- '^''''*'*'*^ 
 
 >L^ 
 
 ItA^^ 
 
 *^^f^ 
 
 AVithout that power, assuredly, there is no moral 
 accountability. \Ouglit is a meaningless word with- '^''*''*''^ 
 out Gan.\ Now every school and variety of Mate- 
 rialism does, in effect, deny free will, be the denial 
 more or less direct, more or less veiled. f Either 
 
 * Grundlegunfi zur Metaphisik der Sitten. Dritter Absclinitt. 
 
 t Tlius, Mr. Clifford, in words, admits man's free agency ; but, 
 in fact, lie reduces it to the mere shadow of a great name. It is with 
 him nothing but the consciousness of being attracted, not propelled. 
 
y 
 
 26 . TUB CBISIS OF ETHICS. [en. 
 
 wc arc presented with the a posteriori argument, 
 so elaborately worked out by Buckle, wliicli aims 
 at establishing, by the aid of statistics, that what 
 we call morality is subject to fixed laws, like the 
 course of the stars or the return of the seasons ; 
 that what we call virtue and vice are the results 
 of physical causes, as regular as those which rule 
 the germination of plants or the procreation of 
 animals. Or the a priori road is followed, and we 
 are told that thouo-h we can determine our actions 
 according to our wishes, we cannot determine our 
 wishes. The will — what we call will — is exhibited 
 to us as always governed by the strongest motives, 
 the force of which is not due to us, for we suffer 
 them, we do not originate them. Do wo reply, 
 
 '' True indeed ; but though we do not create 
 motives, we have m our own hands the culture of 
 the will; we are the architects of our own characters, 
 because character is formed by acts, is in fact a 
 chain of acts, and it rests with us to forge the 
 first link of that chain " ? The rejoinder is, "You 
 beg the question. That first act was determined 
 ;by motives ; it was produced by the influence of 
 the strongest of the external causes. Your so-called 
 free will is an illusion ; it is really the sum of the 
 any influences, of various kinds, which have been 
 brought to bear vi^ow a man, not merely individu- 
 ally, but during the countless generations of his 
 existence in his ancestors. These have given to 
 his soul^ — what we poetically call soul — its charac- 
 
LEGES SINE MOBIBUS VANJE. 27 
 
 tcristic ply. ' Such as we are made of, sucli we be.' 
 What we call virtue and vice arc, in M. Taine's 
 striking j^hrase, ' merely products, like sugar and 
 vitriol.' They are mainly the outcome of heredity. 
 Francis of Assisi was necessarily a saint. Eccelino 
 was necessarily a monster. Alexander Borgia could 
 not by any means have become a Savonarola, nor 
 Savonarola an Alexander Borgia. 'A poor devil can't 
 conniiand courage any more than he can make himself 
 six feet high,' says Colonel Newcome, in extenua- 
 tion of the cowardice of his nephew Barnes. No : 
 nor can he command purity, or piety, or pitifulness. 
 
 ' To doubt the necessary nature of an action, when 
 
 ' a given motive is presented to a given character, 
 is really, every whit as absurd as to doubt 
 that the three angles of a triangle arc equal 
 to two right angles." The conclusion to which 
 
 ("IMaterialism, in all its schools, is inevitably led, is 
 /that will is not what Kant has defined it, but only 
 \ a word to hide our ignorance of causation, a mo- 
 
 l dality of instinctive acts, accompanied by a certain 
 degree of sensation.! But "with what is called meta- 
 physical liberty, with freedom of volition, merit 
 and demerit disappear too. Human causality, 
 human spontaneity, human responsibility, all die 
 before the ' uncreating word ' of Materialism. Its 
 doctrine of absolute irresponsibility makes an end 
 of crime ; its penal legislation can be nothing but 
 Icffes sine moribus vance. For the sting of punish- 
 ment is not the actual fact — " stone walls do not a 
 
28 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ce. 
 
 j^rlson make " — but tlic moral disapproliation c.i 
 whicli tlie fact is evidence. But how visit with 
 moral disapjDrobation those who were incapable of 
 doing anything but what they did ? Poor victims 
 of temperament, of heredity, of enviroimient, they 
 are to be j:>itied, not blamed ; while, indeed, we 
 seclude them for the protection of our persons and 
 pockets; for we are the numerical majority, we can 
 appeal to the ultima ratio of force, if to nothing 
 higher. It is no fancy picture which I am now 
 drawing. Fifty years ago Balzac Avrote, ' Crime 
 has been made poetical ; tears are drivelled over 
 'V' assassins.' True as his words were then, they are 
 
 ^i ^ even truer now. j The idea of law as the embodied ; 
 U\ conscience of a nation of persons, the belief in 
 f justice, in the old sense, as something quite tran- ] 
 
 scending mere expediency — fiat justltia i^ereat 
 mwidus — the concejotion of the civil magistrate as 
 a minister of the retribution ordained by that 
 justice as 'the other half of crime,' these things 
 liave well nigh died out from the popular mind, 
 as, in place of the old spiritual principles of ethics. 
 Materialism refers us to natural history." * 
 
 llf law, with penal sanctions, be the b(nid of civil 
 
 society, the family is certainly its foundation. But 
 
 / tlie family depends upon marriage. Now marriage, 
 
 as it exists in Europe, is mainly tlie creation of 
 
 ) Transcendentalism embodied in Christianity. Words- 
 
 * I quote this passage, slightly altering it, from my \york, A 
 Centuiy of Uevohdion, 2nd Ed. p. 04. 
 
I.] MATERIALISM AND MARRIAdE. 29 
 
 worth gave utterance to no mere poetical fancy, 
 but to the exact trutli, when he wrote of '' pure 
 religion breathing- household laws." What is be- 
 coming of marriage, and of that virtue of cliastity 
 of whicli it is the guardian, as society is ever more 
 and more governed by purely physical canons? In 
 another work I have pointed out what, as a matter 
 of fact, was the effect upon matrimony of the 
 Materialism dominant in France during the second 
 half of the last century.* I may here note how 
 the legislators of tlie first French Republic dealt 
 with it. The National Convention reduced it to a 
 civil contract terminable, under circumstances, by 
 the decree of a secular tribunal. As a fitting 
 pendant to this enactment, the law of the 12th of 
 Brumaire, year II. of the Republic, placed natural 
 children upon a footing of almost complete equality 
 with children born in wedlock. Cambaceres, who 
 acted as the rapporteur of the measure, would, in- 
 deed, have put them upon a completely equal foot- 
 ing. " The existing differences," he urged, "are 
 the result of pride and superstition, they are igno- 
 minious and contrary to justice." The Materialists 
 who now sit in the seat of those sages are bent upon 
 continuing and. completing their work. The recent 
 law on divorce is but a beginning, quite insufficient 
 to satisfy the aspirations of tlie bolder spirits, who 
 pant for the entire abolition of marriage, upon the 
 ground that it is '•' the tomb of love, anil the chief 
 
 * Cliuptcrs in European Ilistnri/, vol. ii. [ip. 153-159. 
 
80 THU OEISIS OF ETHICS. [cir. 
 
 cause of stupidity (abefissement) and ugliness {en- 
 laidlssement) in the human race." \ I suppose it 
 must be conceded that stupidity and ugliness are 
 the rule, rather than the exception, in the human 
 race. But I have never been able to follow the 
 reasoning - which professes to find the source of 
 these evils in matrimony, and their remedy in what 
 is called "free love." Certain it is, however, that 
 every school of Materialism tends to the substitu- 
 tion of ephemeral connections, of what ]\Ir. John 
 Morley terms, after Rousseau, ''marriage according 
 to the truth of nature," * — it is usually known as 
 concubinage — for permanent and indissoluble wed- 
 lock, a " servitude" for which no sanction is found 
 in physical science. '•' The moral and legal rule of 
 marriage will be changed," M. Eenan prophesied, 
 not long ago, to the well-pleased students gathered 
 around him at the Grand- Vef our ; "the old Roman 
 and Christian law will one day seem too exclusive, 
 too narrow." And evidently M. Renan thinks that 
 day of redemption drawing nigh. Certain it is 
 that every school of Materialism, by banishing the 
 spiritual clement from love, reduces it to a mere 
 physical function, and makes of chastity a monkish 
 superstition. " La morale," a keen-witted French- 
 man observed to me the other day, " est regardee 
 par la Revolution comme une clcricale." And the 
 abounding obscenity of literature and art in France 
 
 * Sec Lis account of Rousseau's mock espousals in vol. i. cha]). iv, 
 of his ■\vnrk on that 2:)hilosopher. 
 
1.] " UGLY SYMFTUMS:' 31 
 
 is viewed with satisfaction by her present rulers, as 
 the most effective weapon wherewitli to combat this 
 dreaded foe of the Third Eepublic. We in England 
 have not as yet got so far as " advanced thinkers " 
 across the Channel. But unquestionably we are on 
 the road. The establishment of the Divorce Court 
 has been a heavy blow to the old spiritual concep- 
 tions of wedlock, hitherto unquestioningly received 
 among ns. And who can estimate the demoralising 
 effect of the flood of filth, vomited throughout the 
 country, from that " common sewer of the realm "? 
 The warnings of the saintly Keble " against pro- 
 fane dealing with holy matrimony " have received 
 only too ample justification. \0n every side we 
 may discern the tokens how the old reverence for 
 woman, and for that virtue of chastity which is the 
 very citadel of her moral being, is being sapped 
 among us, as Materialism advances. i The "Christian 
 idea of purity," the Dean of St. Paul's observes, "has 
 still a hold upon our society, imperfectly enough. 
 Can we ask a more anxious question than whether 
 this hold will continue ? No one can help seeing, 
 I think, many ugly symptoms. The language of 
 revolt is hardly muttered: the ideas of purity, which 
 we have inherited and thought sacred, are boldly 
 made the note and reproach of ' the Christians.' " * 
 " Ugly symptoms," indeed, abound on every side. 
 Think — but briefly — of one of tliem : of the 
 
 m 
 
 * Sermons preached before the University of Oxford, by Ii. AY. 
 Church, p. 131. 
 
32 TEE (EISIS OF ETEICS. [ch. 
 
 apotheosis of prostitution, which is a distinctive 
 note of our epocli. And here let me guard myself 
 against misconception. I know well that the poor 
 in virtue, as the poor in worldly wealth, we 
 have always with us. I know that in our ])resent 
 highl}^ complex and artificial civilisation, the rude 
 proceedings, whereby the men of simpler ages 
 sought to enforce chastity, would be out of date. 
 I think it jn'obable that in any age they did more 
 harm than good. True, at all events in the exist- 
 ing condition of society, is St. Augustine's warning, 
 '' Aufer meretriccs de rebus humanis, turbaveris 
 omnia libidinibus."* And, this being so, I believe 
 tlie true function of the State is to control and 
 regulate what it must regard as a necessary evil, 
 and to minimise, as far as may be, the resultant 
 mischiefs, moral and physical. XTliese miserable 
 women are the guardians of our domestic purity .\ 
 The " macte virtute esto " of Cato was prompted 
 by a true knowledge of human nature. But hitherto, 
 the infamy of the courtesan's trade has, at least, 
 been generally recognised. It has been reserved 
 for the Materialism of the nineteenth ccnturv to 
 nudvo of this unclean creature an object of admira- 
 tion, of envy, nay, of respect; the heroine of 
 drama, the type of comed}^, the theme of romance, 
 the arbitress of fashion, the model curiously and 
 and attentivel}^ studied by great ladies with 
 daughters to marry, by debutantes with husbands 
 
 * De Ordiiw, 1. ii. c. -i. 
 
r.] THE NEW TYPE OF WOMANEOOE. 33 
 
 to find. ''Hoc fonte derivata clades." No one 
 can go much into "society" without learning how 
 widely spread the corruj^tion is. A taint of lubri- 
 city is in the air. The language of the lupanar 
 is heard from virginal lips. Things which it is a 
 shame even to speak of, are calmly discussed by 
 beauty just out of the nursery. ''Si un honmie 
 epouse uno jeune femme, elevee a la moderne, il 
 risque fort d'epouser une petite courtisane/' de- 
 bauched in mind, if physically intact. It is an 
 observation of Bernard de Vaudricourt in La 
 Morte, and is true of other countries than France. 
 If any one wishes to see what woman becomes, 
 when brought up without religious or metaphysical 
 dogmas, in the scliool of physical facts, accepted 
 as the only facts, let him survey SabineTallevaut, 
 as she is dej^icted for us in the pages of that ad- 
 mirably written book. Nowhere has M. Feuillet 
 displayed more signally his sagacity and acuteness 
 in observing social phenomena, or his singular 
 psychological skill. I know not whether to admire 
 more his refinement or his audacity, his mastery 
 of the emotions or his descrij^tive power. Certain 
 it is that the morality of the world, in the long 
 run, is determined by w^omen. Certain it is that 
 the philosopher was well warranted when he wrote 
 " ce qu'on appcUe I'homme moral, est forme sur 
 les genoux de sa mere." Certain it is that for 
 woman the idea of duty is, as a matter of fact, 
 inseparably bound up with the spiritual conceptions 
 
 D 
 
34 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 derived by her from religion. And as certain is it 
 tliat if she once lose those conceptions, nothing but 
 lack of personal attractions, or absence of op- 
 portunity, saves her from utter ethical degradation. 
 Let us never forget that the difference between 
 man and woman is not merely of physical confor- 
 mation. It is psychical. ''Woman is not un- 
 developed man, but diverse." She is governed 
 far more by instinct, by impulse, by affections, 
 than by reason, by purpose, by principles. For 
 her. Materialism means more utter ruin than for 
 man, for it extinguishes the ideal which is her one 
 light of life. As it destroj^s the sense of duty in 
 man, so is it fatal to pure love in woman. Bring 
 up woman in the Positivist school, and you make of 
 jlier a monster: the very type of ruthless cynicism, 
 of all-engrossing selfishness, of unbridled passion. 
 
 There are eminent persons, I am well aware, to 
 whom these conclusions will be extremely distaste- 
 ful. Writers, whose names alone suffice to establish 
 a claim upon our respectful attention, discourse to 
 us of what they call "independent morality :\" by 
 wliicli tJiey mean morality deprived of its meta- 
 physical basis. Professor Huxley, as I remember, 
 somewhere protests, with cliaracteristic vehemence, 
 '' I do not for one moment admit that morality is 
 not strong enough to hold its own?' After all, 
 however, the vital question is not what this accom- 
 
 1/ J 
 
[.] TEl^ MORAL SAP OF THE OLD BELIEF. 35 
 
 plished physicist will admit, but what, as a matter 
 of fact, does happen, and, from the nature of the 
 case, must happen. No doubt Professor Huxley, 
 emancipated from belief in ang-el or spirit, still 
 guides himself by the same ethical rules as before. 
 I do not myself know anything of the early history 
 of this illustrious man. But I suppose that, like the 
 rest of us, he was brought up upon the Catechism. 
 At all events, I am quite sure that he is the j^roduct 
 of many generations of Christian progenitors. 
 What M. Renan happily calls the nioral sap of the 
 old belief — " la scve morale de la vieille crovance" 
 — still courses through his spiritual being. His 
 Materialism takes credit for virtues springing from 
 quite another source: '^ Miraturque novas frondes 
 et non sua poma." He knows, far better than I do, 
 the influence of heredity and of environment upon 
 character. He is well aware how deeply rooted in 
 the past are those ethical principles whereby human 
 life is still largely governed, even among Material- 
 ists. The question is, can you uproot those prin- 
 ciples, and expect them to flourish upon a quite! 
 different soil ? Morality, in Professor Huxley, I 
 can well believe, is strong enough to hold its own. 
 But will it be strong enough in Professor Huxley's 
 great-grandchildren? ''It takes several genera-\ 
 tions for Christian morality to get into the blood," 
 the missionaries in Samoa told Baron von Hilbner. 
 It will doubtless take several generations for 
 Christian morality to get out of the blood. And 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE CRISIS OF ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 then ? Not, indeed, that I am now pleading- for 
 Christianity. Still less am I pleading for any 
 special form of it. There is little in Christian 
 morality that is exclusively Christian.* (And I am 
 j^ 1} not prepared to assert that many of the most 
 '^ precious of the ethical elements of our civilisation 
 might not survive a general decay of specifically 
 Christian doctrines.\ I am at present merely point- 
 ' V ing; to the fact, that as the metaj^hysical dogmas, 
 enumerated in a previous page, have lost their 
 hold upon the popular mind, the etliical concep- 
 tions for which they served as a basis have fallen 
 into discredit. But Materialism proposes to rear 
 for us a new Morality upon another foundation. 
 Let us go on to examine that proposal. 
 
 * On this subject see pp. 115, 211, 244-5. 
 
 ^ ^ re ■ ' 'v. 
 
 '^ ^ -Ui ^ ^ i C^-^^i- 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. 
 
 Proeessok Huxley, in one of the most interesting 
 of his Lay Sermons, has proclaimed to all mankind. : 
 " I say that natural knowledge, seeking to satisfy 
 natural wants, has found the ideas which can alone 
 still spiritual cravings. I say that natural know- 
 ledge, in desiring to ascertain the Ijnvs of comfort, 
 has been driven to discover those of conduct, and 
 to lay the foundations of a new morality." * ''A 
 new morality " based ultimately on " the laws of 
 comfort ! " Glad tidings of great joy, indeed, to 
 a benighted nineteenth century. Similarly, Mr. 
 Herbert Spencer assures us that "the establishment 
 of the rules of right conduct uj)on a scientific basis 
 is a pressing need." f And, to the like effect, a 
 popular professor in the Paris School of Medicine 
 recently prophesied: " By-and-by, when the rest 
 of the world has risen to tlie intellectual level of 
 France, and true views of the nature of existence 
 are held by the bulk of mankind, now under clerical 
 
 * P. U. t J^ata of Ethics, Pref. iv. 
 
38 MATEBJALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 direction, the present crude and vulgar notions 
 regarding morality, religion, divine providence, 
 deity, the soul, and so forth, will be swept entirely 
 away, and the dicta of science will remain the sole 
 
 guides of sane and educated men Churchmen 
 
 and moral philosophers represent the old and dying- 
 world, and we, the men of science, represent the 
 new." * Let us proceed to inquire what is the 
 substitute for "the present crude and vulgar notions 
 regarding morality " proposed to the world by 
 " men of science," as physicists modestly call 
 themselves, in disdainful ignorance of all sciences 
 except their own. 
 
 Of course there is diversity of operation in 
 these manufacturers of new ethics. But in all 
 worketh one and the self-same spirit. They all 
 aim at presenting the world with what they term 
 '' an independent morality," by which they mean 
 a morality deduced merely from j^liysical law, 
 grounded solely on what they call "experience," 
 and on analysis of and deductions from experience; 
 holding only of the positive sciences and rejecting 
 all pure reason, all philosophy in the true sense of 
 the word. T^hey all insist that there is no essential 
 difference between the moral and the physical 
 order ; that the world of ideas is but a development 
 
 * Quoted by Professor Davis in his article, "The Moral Aspects 
 of Vivisection," in the North American lieview of March, 1885. 
 
11.] A rUEELY PHYSICAL METHOD. 39 
 
 of the world of j^lienomcna. They all agree in the 
 negation of first and of final causes, of the soul 
 and of free-will. Instead of finality, they tell us, 
 necessit}^ reigns ; mechanical perhaps, or it may be 
 dynamical, but issuing practically in the elimination 
 of moral liberty as a useless spring in the machinery 
 of matter. I venture to say that in the long run 
 there are only two schools of ethics — the hedonistic 
 and the transcendental. There are only two sides 
 from which we can aj^jDroach a question of right 
 and wrong — the physical and the sjoiritual ; there 
 are only two possible foundations of morality — 
 conscience and concupiscence ; * the laws of uni- 
 versal reason, and what Professor Huxley calls "the 
 laws of comfort." The "men of science" are 
 agreed in anathematising the transcendental. Their 
 method is purely physical. They conceive of man 
 merely as " ein geniessendes Tliier," an animal 
 whose motive principle is what they call " happi- 
 ness ; " for whom, as Mr. Leslie Stephen roundly 
 asserts, ''pain and pleasure are the determining 
 causes of action" — nay more, "the sole and the 
 ultimate causes." f Such are the foundations of the 
 new " indej^endent morality." We will now follow 
 it out in some of its details. 
 
 And first let us learn of a teacher concerning 
 
 '^ I use the word in its proper pliilosopliical sense : " a, certain 
 power and motion of the mind, wliercby men are driven to desire 
 pleasant things which tliey do not possess." 
 
 I Science of Ethics, p. 50. 
 
40 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 whom a well-informed writer recently testified that 
 " in this country and America he is the philosopher," 
 and whose works, if less implicitly received as 
 oracles in France and Germany, have done much 
 to shape and colour current speculation in those 
 countries. I need hardly say that I speak of Mr. 
 Herbert Spencer. I shall devote my next chapter 
 to examining, in some detail, the moral philosophy 
 of this popular writer. Here, I will merely observe 
 that the doctrine unfolded by him, at such great 
 length, appears to me to amount, in the last resort, 
 to this : All the actions of society are determined by 
 the actions of the individual ; all the actions of the 
 individual are regulated by the laws of life ; and 
 all the laws of life are purely physical. Turn we 
 to another eminent teacher, hardly less influential. 
 Consider the following account of human nature 
 which Professor Huxley sets before us in his Zai/ 
 Sermons, enforcing it by an epigram of Goethe : "All 
 the multifarious and complicated activities of men" 
 — all, remember, without exception — " are compre- 
 hensible under three categories. Either tliey are 
 immediately directed towards the maintenance and 
 development of the body, or they effect transitory 
 changes in the relative positions of parts of the 
 body, or they tend towards the continuance of the 
 species. Even those manifestations of intellect, of 
 feeling, and of will, Avliich wo rightly name the 
 higher faculties, are not excluded from this classi- 
 fication, inasmuch as to every one but the subject 
 
II.] ''MUSCULAR contraction:' 41 
 
 of them they are known only as transitory changes 
 in tlie relative positions of parts of tlie body. 
 Speech, gesture, and every other form of human 
 action are, in the long run, resolvable into muscular 
 contraction." * I do not overlook the words " to 
 every one but tlie subject of them." And most 
 certainly I have no desire to force nj^on Mr. Huxley's 
 language a meaning which it does not logically 
 convey. But surely he will agree with me, that 
 knowledge which is confined to one's inner con- 
 sciousness, and can never become the property of 
 another, cannot have much effect upon society at 
 large. It may be dismissed by any pliilosopher 
 aiming at the practical ; and that, unquestionably, 
 is Professor Huxley's aim. A man, dwelling in 
 the depths of his own consciousness, he tells us, 
 may think, if he 2:>leases, in terms of spirit. But 
 the moment that man attempts to influence another, 
 he must put away everything that is not muscular 
 contraction. " Weiter bringt es kein Mensch," 
 says the incomparable genius who, in three lines, 
 reduces human life to an affair of feeding oneself, 
 begetting children, and doing one's best to feed 
 them. I know it may be answered, " Well, but 
 the professor leaves us the unknown and unknow- 
 able subject, beyond the limits of consciousness, as 
 of physical science." What of that ? Pray, what 
 has morality to do with the unknown and unknow- 
 able ? " Nihil volitum quin j^rajcognitum " is 
 
 * r. 135. 
 
42 MATEBIALISTIG ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 indeed a medieval axiom, and so, as I fear, may 
 be "suspect" to Professor Huxley. But although 
 medieval, it is unquestionably true. On morality, 
 the unknown and unknowable can have only a 
 nominal influence. The real influence is left to 
 the teaching which sees in the exercise of our 
 higliest faculties only " muscular contraction." 
 Public morality must be founded on publicly ac- 
 knowledged facts. It cannot depend upon a sub- 
 jective consciousness unable to manifest itself in- 
 tellectually. Professor Huxley, like Mr. Spencer, 
 really treats ethics as a branch of physics. 
 ' ■/ And this is in truth the doctrine — whether ex- 
 V plicitly avowed or not — of the whole Positivist and 
 
 experimental school. \Further, right, they will 
 have it, is not absolute but relative, a matter of 
 experience and calculation ; it is nothing but the 
 accord of the individual instinct with the social 
 instinct; the momentary harmony of the need mani- 
 fested in me, and of the exigences of the species to 
 which I belong. \ In like manner wrong is the 
 absence of such accord, the want of such harmony; 
 '' a natural phenomenon like any other, but a phe- 
 nomenon that at a given moment is found to be in 
 opposition to the eventual good of the race." And 
 this agrees with Bentham's doctrine that what we 
 call a crime is really a miscalculation, an error in 
 arithmetic. General utility, the good of the species 
 is, then, the only scientific and exi^erimental cri- 
 terion of human action, the sole rule of right and 
 
II.] VEOMME -MACHINE. 43 
 
 wrong; and morality consists in tlic approlicnsion 
 of that principle, and in conformity with it, And 
 so Mr. John Morley, wlion\ many take for a philo- 
 sopher, in his book on Compromise, dogmatically 
 affirms, "Moral principles, when they arc true, are, at 
 bottom, only registered generalisations from experi- 
 ence. Human society, in the view of this authority, is 
 not an organism but a machine — just as the individual 
 men of whom it is composed are machines;* a kind 
 of company, as some one has happily expressed it, 
 which insures against risks by applying the prin- 
 ciples of solidarity and reciprocity, the taxes l^eing 
 the premium. 
 
 Society then, and its supposed interests, being the 
 one rule of right and wrong, it is idle to talk of any 
 natural rights of man. We are taught, in terms, 
 that " the only reason for recognising any supposed 
 right or claim inherent in any man or body of men, 
 other than Avhat is expressly conferred by positive 
 law, ever has been and still is, general utility," and 
 we are referred to " Bentham, Austin, and Mill " as 
 having "conclusively settled that." We are assured 
 thatX' a natural rigiit is a mere fig-ment of the ima- 
 gination,"^^or, what is apparently regarded as more 
 heinous still, "a metaphysical entity." Do we suggest 
 that slavery, for example, is, as the Institutes teach, 
 contra uaturani, a violation of a man's natural right 
 
 * " The good man is a machine wliose springs are ailai^ted so to 
 fulfil their functions as to produce beneficent results." Morley's 
 Diderot, vol. ii. p. 182. 
 
44 MATEBIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 to freedom ? No, we are told ; the true objection to 
 slavery is that it is opjDOsed to the good of the com- 
 munity. Lord Sherbrooke, some years ago, affirmed 
 that the principle of abstract right had never been 
 admitted in England ; a statement which implies, 
 at the least, deficiency of information or shortness 
 of memory. *' If it is the sound English doctrine," 
 observed Mr. Matthew Arnold, by way of comment 
 on this text, " that all rights are created by law, 
 and are based on expediency, and are alterable 
 as the public advantage may require, certainly that 
 orthodox doctrine is mine." All rights created by 
 law! Wei], well, it was always a pity when Mr. 
 Matthew Arnold laid aside his garland and singing 
 robes, and dallied with philosophy. But such an 
 accomplished scholar might have remembered that 
 the doctrine of which he thus made solemn profes- 
 sion, is precisely the doctrine of the ancient sophists, 
 so admirably refuted -by Plato. Besides, he surely 
 possessed some acquaintance with the language and 
 literature of Germany. And the knowledge that 
 the idea of Nat iirr edit is the very foundation of 
 scientific jurisprudence in that country, might have 
 served to make him pause. However, there can be 
 no question that the apostle of culture is here the 
 mouthpiece of the vulgar belief, that material 
 power, the force of numbers, furnishes the last 
 reason of things, and the sole organ of justice; a 
 belief which finds practical expression in the 
 political dogma that any " danmcd error " becomes 
 
ir.] M. LITTEE'S DISCOVERY. 45 
 
 right, if a numerical majority of the male adult 
 inhabitants in any country can be induced, by 
 rhetoric and rigmarole, to bless it and approve it 
 with their votes. 
 
 And as, in the new morality, right springs from 
 the physical fact of living together, so duty springs 
 from the physical necessity of living together. The 
 old conception of conscience as " a participation 
 of the Eternal Law in the rational creature," the 
 I inward witness of the Supreme Judge, "a prophet 
 )in its informations, a monarch in its peremptoriness, 
 (a priest in its blessings and anathemas," is put aside 
 [as outworn rhetoric. The moral sense, we are 
 assured, is not j^rimitive, not innate, but a mere 
 empirical fact, transformed and established by 
 heredity ; a " phenomenon " (so they call it) 
 variable and varying with the exigencies of the 
 race. The primary fount of morality, M. Littre 
 has discovered — I believe the glory of the discovery 
 belongs to him — is in the contest between egoism, 
 the starting-point of which is nutrition, and altruism, 
 the starting-point of which is sexuality. In these 
 organic needs he finds the origin of justice. It is 
 a merely physiological fact,* the higliest degree of 
 the social instinct, the expression of a multitude of 
 sensations, images, ideas, springing successively 
 from various circumstances, in many generations, 
 and welded together, so to speak, in the brain, by 
 
 * Elsewhere he allows justice to be '' tin iiToducible psychical 
 fact." I suppose •' irretlucible " means ultimate. 
 
46 MATJEEIALI8TIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 the force of habit, the invention and use of lan- 
 guage, and the action of time. Thus there arises a 
 tradition, wliich becomes the public opinion of the 
 community, giving birth to '' those uniformities of 
 approbation and disapprobation" — the phrase, I 
 think, is is Dr. Bain's — which encourage and, so to 
 speak, consecrate such and such conduct as tending 
 to the general good ; or, in other words, as likely 
 to result in the largest number of pleasant sensa- 
 tions for the largest number of people. And so the 
 test of the moral value of an action is not the inten- 
 tion of the doer, but the result of the deed : the 
 true criterion of its ethical value is its pleasurable 
 tendency : show that Avhich is commonly accounted 
 virtue is not conducive to human gratification, and 
 it ceases to be virtuous. In the new ethics the 
 maxim so often and so ignorantly cited to the 
 reproach of the Society of Jesus, that " the end 
 justifies the means,"* finds place in all its naked- 
 
 * It may not be amiss to point out that tliis maxim, in the 
 sense popularly put upon it, has never been held by anj^ school of 
 casuists, Jesuit or other. The commonplaces of moral theology. 
 Licit us estjinis, etiam licita sunt media and Cui licitus est finis, licit a 
 sunt media, merely assert the general philosophical principle, that 
 if the end, the complete opus, is a good one, due means may be 
 taken for its attainment : not all, nor any means, but first innocent 
 means, and secondly means which are not, at all events, essentially 
 evil, and whii-h the end, and the end alone, can justify. Examples 
 of this second class arc afforded by dangerous surgical operations, 
 such as tracheotomy, lithotomy, amputation. The end of saving 
 life justifies these means. But neither that end, nor any other, 
 would justify adultery or blasphemy. 
 
11.] . UNIVEliSAL NECESSITY. 47 
 
 ncss, as a very cardinal doctrine. It gives rise in 
 practice to some curious applications, as when Mr. 
 Cotter Morison, in his last work, exalts " the 
 barren prostitute" at the expense of " the prolific 
 spouse." 
 
 But, in truth, intention must be beside the question 
 in the new morality, for, as I pointed out in the 
 last chapter, its professors, one and all, repudiate 
 free will, as in manifest contradiction with the law 
 of mechanical causalitj^ Through their identifica- 
 tion of moral necessity with physical necessit}^, they 
 are inevitably led to Determinism. " The doctrine 
 that the will is free " is "virtually unmeaning," * Mr. 
 John Morley tells us. And with the quiet contempt 
 of one who is most ignorant of what he's most 
 assured, he opposes to those fatuous persons avIio 
 hold it, "sensible people Avho accept" what he 
 calls "the scientific account of human action." 
 That account is that every act is really the out- 
 come of universal necessity; that free will is merely 
 a name bv which we veil our io;norance of causes, 
 an illusion properly explained by Mr. Spencer, as 
 the result of a vast collection of detailed associa- 
 tions whereof the history has been lost. Do we 
 hint a doubt that this doctrine degrades man by 
 reducing him to a machine ? Mr. Morley loftily 
 admonishes us that we are " using a kind of lan- 
 jiuajre that was invented in i"iiorance of what con- 
 stitutes the true dignity of man." "What is nature 
 * j\iiscellanies, vol. i. p. 146. 
 
48 MATEBIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 itself," he inquires, "but a vast machine, in wliicli our 
 human species is no more than one weak spring ? " 
 
 Now wliat are we to say of this new morality ? 
 I take leave to say that it is not moral at all. 
 JPace Professor Huxley, I venture to assert that you 
 can derive no ethical principle whatever from "the 
 laws of comfort;'' that from needs, personal or racial, 
 from the interests, whether of the individual or of the 
 community, you cannot extract an atom of morality. 
 Mr. Lecky has justly remarked, that the only charge 
 utilitarians can bring against vice is that of impru- 
 dence. But, even supposing that the charge could bo 
 sustained, prudence is one thing, duty is quite an- 
 other. Prudence rests upon the calculations of self- 
 love. \r)uty means abnegation of self and obedience 
 to the unconditioned command of Eight. The first 
 , note of the moral law, as of all law, is obligation .\ 
 I^To sacrifice my private gratification to the general 
 welfare, nmy be an admirable rule if it comes to 
 me in the name of Right. Not so if it appeals to 
 me in the name of Utility. I ask what is useful for 
 myself, for my own delectation. Why should I not, 
 if man is merely a pleasurable animal ? Do not 
 mistake me. I grant that pleasure is a mighty 
 spring of individual life. I admit that it is a good 
 at whicli the human will may legitimately aim. 
 But I deny that it is the source of ethics. The 
 only morality you can derive from it is tlie morality 
 of money, for which pleasures, physical and in- 
 
II.] DUTY AND DELECTATION. 49 
 
 tellcctual, of all kinds, may be purchased : clivina 
 hnmanaque pitlchris dwitiis parent. " Pleasure 
 and pain govern the world," Bentham tells us. 
 '^ It is for these two sovereign masters alone," 
 he insists, ^' to point out what we ought to do, as 
 well as to determine what we shall do."* Well, 
 but surely, the pleasure and pain which come 
 home to. the individual, are his individual" pleasure 
 and pain. The idea of Duty differs by the whole 
 diameter of existence from the idea of Delectation. 
 But they tell us " Our sole experimental and 
 scientific criterion of human action — the 2:reatest 
 liappiness of the greatest number — does carry with 
 it an obligation. The precept really is : \york for 
 the general advantage, for you will find your 
 own advantage in doing so."t To this I 
 
 * Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, c. 1. 
 
 t Sucli is the Utilitarian doctrine as expounded by Mr. John 
 Stuart Mill, whom, I suppose, we must regard as its chief apostle 
 in our time. Mr. Herbert Spencer tells us that the true moral 
 motive is constituted by representations of consequences naturally 
 produced by the acts : whicli representations are partly due to 
 experience of the results of like acts in the life of the individual, 
 and partly to the inherited effect of such experiences in progenitors. 
 Thus the moral deterrent from adultery is to be found in the 
 " ideas of unhappiness entailed on the aggrieved wife or husband, 
 the damaged lives of children, and the different mischiefs Mhich 
 go along with disregard of the marriage tie." Data of Ethics, § 45. 
 But Mr. Spencer quite fails to demonstrate why the possibility that 
 disagreeable feeling may result to others from the adulterous act, 
 should lead the enamoured pair to forego the extremely agreeable 
 feeling which it will certainly bring to themselves. As I shall show, 
 at length, in the next chapter, obligation has no place in Mr. 
 Spencer's ethics; nor on his principles can any valid reason be 
 given why the individual is ever bound to sacrifice himself. 
 
 E 
 
50 MATUEIALISTIG ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 reply, first, Where is the obligation, the binding 
 tie ? In place of it you present me with nothing 
 but a mere motive. And, in the second place, I 
 observe, that the proposition on which that motive 
 is based, is untenable. It is by no means univer- 
 sally true that in working for the general advantage 
 I shall find my own. On the contrary, upon many 
 occasions, the general advantage points one way, 
 and my private advantage another. Nay, is it too 
 much to say that my own private and personal 
 advantage will seldom be identical with the general 
 advantage, in a world where the struggle for ex- 
 istence and the survival of the fittest are primary 
 laws? Let us look at the old precept, "Thou 
 shalt not commit adultery," in the light of the new 
 morality. I exhibit that injunction to a young man 
 burning with a passion for a married woman. He 
 replies, reasonably enough, " Why should I not 
 commit adultery ? " " Because it is for the general 
 interest, which is, in truth, your own interest, that 
 you should not. Don't you see, some day, when 
 you marry, if you ever do marry, some one may 
 commit adultery with your wife." "May! yes; I 
 w^ill run that risk. Meanwhile I shall enjoy the 
 supreme pleasure of gratifying the strongest desire 
 which I have ever experienced." The answer seems 
 to me conclusive. The general advantage is an ab- 
 straction which concerns only the abstraction called 
 humanity. If delectation, pleasure, happiness, is the 
 criterion of action, it is pretty certain to mean in 
 
U^ \ 
 
 11.] LA^¥ FMY^ICAL AND LAW MORAL. 51 
 
 practice our own individual delect ation^ pleasure, 
 happiness. If agreeable feeling be the sanction of 
 ethics, be assured an immediate and certain agree- 
 able feeling will be found a stronger sanction than 
 a future and contingent agreeable feeling. 
 
 The truth is that in mere physics there is no 
 room for the idea of ri"-ht.\ And the reason is — 
 that the mechanical view of the universe offers no *^ 
 spiritual ground of existence, that out of it no true 
 individual can " emerge." No one that I know of, 
 with the exception of Mr. John Morley, praises or 
 blames a machine. ^^ i^ ^^^b^ i^^ ^^^^ spiritual sphere 
 that an ethical principle can be found.\ In a world 
 of mechanism, right is a meaningless word, for it 
 has neither object nor subject. View human life 
 from the merely physical side, and force takes tlie 
 place of right. The strongest are the best. They 
 survive ; they prove their goodness by surviving. 
 And further than this the experimental sciences 
 cannot bring us. 
 
 Physical laws give us mere facts. And the 
 authority of a mere fact, I say, is its material force. 
 In any system of morals based on physics, force is, 
 in the long run, the only criterion of right and 
 wrong : the sole reason for respecting the person 
 or property of another, is that he can compel 
 respect for it. You can no more extract morality 
 from physical facts, than sunbeams from cucumbers 
 — perhaj^s less. But do we not speak of respecting 
 facts V True. But the word respect here means 
 
 e2 
 
 /(*.' 
 
 f. 
 
52 MATEBIALI8TIG ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 only recognition ; it implies no element of moral 
 judgment. '' Let us not fight against facts," says 
 Euripides, '' for we can do tliem no harm." We 
 recognise, as prudent men, their character of 
 necessity. And so we shape them to our ends. 
 Far otlierwise is it with the moral law. We discern 
 in it not something that we can make serve us, but 
 something which we must serve. It humiliates, it 
 commands us ; our respect for it is religious. There 
 is a whole universe between mechanical necessity 
 and ethical necessity. Physical law says, " Griven 
 such and such antecedents, and such and such con- 
 sequences follow." Moral law says, "In such 
 circumstances, such action oiiglit to follow." Phy- 
 sical law declares, " This is how things are." 
 Moral law declares, " This is how things ought to 
 jbe." You cannot get that ought from an universe 
 of observed facts, from an infinite series of expe- 
 riences. " The word ' ought '," Kant observes, in a 
 well-known passage of his Critique of Pure Reasoii, 
 x' expresses a species of necessity which nature does 
 not and cannot present to the mind of man. The 
 understanding knows nothing in nature but that 
 ; which is, or has been, or will be. It would be 
 \ absurd to say that anything in nature ought to be 
 • ) other than it is, in the relations in Avhicli it stands. 
 I Incleed, the word 'ought,' when we consider merely 
 \ the course of nature, has neither a^^plication nor 
 
 meaning AVhatever number of motives 
 
 nature may present to my will, whatever sensuous 
 
II.] PUBLIC OPINION. 53 
 
 impulses, it is beyond their power to pronounce the 
 word ' ouo'ht.' " No. It bclono^s to another order. 
 A fact is isohited and contingent. But the distinc- 
 tive note of a moral principle is universal necessity, 
 the inconceivability of the contrary. What com- 
 mands my respect for another's claim is not the 
 amount of brute force with which he can back it, 
 but its justice. More, a primary note of justice is 
 respect for weakness. 
 
 " Nay, nay," it maybe answered, ''you forget 
 the long education of public opinion. Do not its 
 * uniformities of apjDrobation or disapprobation ' 
 furnish a sufficient account of morality ? " No ; 
 they do not. It is not that I undervalue the ethical 
 traditions which lie at the root of national character. 
 So far as public opinion rej^resents those traditions, 
 it is a force of indubitable value for good. And so 
 far it is an effect, not a cause. It is in no sense the 
 creative principle of morality. Not majorities but 
 minorities — usually very small minorities — are the 
 "helpers and friends of mankind" on the path 
 of ethical progress. How, in the absence of a 
 perpetual miracle — which Dr. Bain, I suppose, does 
 not postulate — how should it be otherwise, when 
 we consider the units of which the majority is 
 composed ? Surely Goethe was not altogether 
 unfounded when he said, " Nothing is more 
 abhorrent to a reasonable man than an appeal to * 
 a majority, for it consists of a few strong men who 
 lead, of knaves who temporise, of the feeble who 
 
54 IfATEBIALISTIG ETIIIGS. [ch. 
 
 are hangers on, and of the multituclo who follow 
 without the slightest idea of what they want." \As 
 /7 a matter of fact, the highest moral acts which the 
 world has witnessed, have been performed in the 
 very teeth of an uniformity of social disapprobation A 
 A primary token of greatness in public life is to be 
 absolutely unswayed by the " ardor civium prava 
 jubentium." And pravity it is, as often as not, for 
 which they clamour. Did Socrates, did Jesus 
 Christ, found themselves upon the public opinion of 
 the communities in which they lived ? What a source 
 for the motive or the sanction of the moral law ! 
 But more ; as I pointed out just now, the theories 
 of Naturalism, one and all of them, held by the 
 prophets of the new ethics, involve Determinism. 
 The attempt to apj^ly the laws of natural history 
 to social relations issues, logically and inevitably, 
 -j iVvin the doctrine of complete moral irresj^onsibility. 
 ,*^What rational meaning can the words right and 
 
 j'*\ / wrong possess, if the human mind is nothing but 
 ' a bundle of sensations, passively received and 
 
 '/y) mechanically modified ?\ Moral obligation pre- 
 
 '"V \ ''' \ V "' 
 
 V supposes, nay, postulates, a certain freedom of the 
 will. It is a necessity addressed to free activities ; 
 not, of course, absolutely free, but relatively — free 
 in the mysterious dejDths of consciousness to choose 
 between motives. " Du kannst Mensch sein, well 
 du Mensch sein sollst." 
 
 Here, as I noted in the last chapter. Is the only 
 ground of merit and demerit, the only sufiiclent 
 
 
 
 / 
 
11.] TEE NEW JUSTICE. 65 
 
 justification of that penal legislation without which 
 society could not hold together. Unless you admit 
 free will and goodness in itself, absolute right and 
 the possibility of choosing right, no reasonable 
 theory of the criminal law is ^^ossible. View the 
 malefactor merely in the light of physical science, 
 and what you have to deal with is not a free agent 
 responsible for the evil ho has done, because he 
 knew the wrong and might have refrained, but a 
 temperament dominated by irresistible impulses, 
 a machine lu'ged to the fatal deed by cerebral 
 reaction .\ If the murderer merely obeyed physio- 
 logical fatality in slaying his victim, it is monstrous 
 to punish him. Where there is no responsibility 
 there is no guilt. " But his execution will deter 
 others." Deter others ! Is that a sufficient reason 
 for hanging an innocent person ? " But any punish- 
 ment short of death, at all events, may be remedial." 
 How remedial, if Determinism is true ? Velle non 
 discitur. Such is the working of the new morality in 
 the sphere of criminal jurisprudence. Its influence 
 throughout tlie whole of the public order cannot 
 help being equally monstrous. It saps the idea of 
 responsibility in individual consciences. Its cardi- 
 nal principle is supplied by the maxim of Helvetius, 
 taken in all its nudity and crudity, " Tout devient 
 legitime pour le salut publique." The maxim is 
 absolutely unethical. It makes of justice, in Plato's 
 phrase, merely " the interest of the stronger." 
 " To do a great nght, do a little wi'ong." No; ''it 
 
( 
 
 56 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 may not be." The only ethical prhiciple is, that 
 
 '* i-because right is riglit, to follow right 
 
 Were ■wisdom, in the scorn of consequence." 
 
 Consequence! It is beside the question. "Better 
 were it," says Cardinal Newman, ''for sun and 
 moon to drop from heaven, for the earth to fail, 
 and for all the many millions who are upon it to 
 die of starvation in extremest ao-onv, so far as 
 temporal affliction goes, than that one soul should 
 tell one willful untruth, though it harmed no one, 
 or steal one poor farthing without excuse."* This 
 is the language of the theologian. But the philo- 
 sopher gives a like judgment. '' The dictum, 
 ^ All's well that ends well,' " Kant happily observes, 
 " has no place in morals." And morals have no 
 real place in any philosophy which bases itself on 
 the doctrines of utilitarianism. \ No act can be 
 obligatory, in the proper sense, unless it is binding 
 upon us, without regard to its consequences, and 
 without reference to any personal end. Morality is 
 nothing if not absolute.\ It is nothing but a mere 
 regulation of police in any system of philosophy, 
 falsely so called, based solely upon the physical 
 sciences, which are essentially relative. 
 
 Certain it is that there is no scliool of Material- 
 ists who so much as profess to care for duty, for 
 its own sake. They regard it as a mere means to 
 delectation. Thus, they tell us tliat, for the future, 
 the highest virtues must spring from sympathy. 
 * Anglican Difficulties, Lcc. viii. § 4. 
 
ir.] SYMPATHY AND DUTY. 57 
 
 Do we ask, Why ? " Sympatli}^," they confidently 
 maintain, ^'will impel us to seek the agreeable 
 consciousness that results from the healthy exercise 
 of the energies of our nature, and to promote it in 
 others by the practice of virtue and benevolence." 
 " A deep and intelligent sympathy with the race " 
 is to supply the place of the old sanctions. I pity 
 the race. There is no conceivable motive why 
 we should trouble ourselves about the welfare of 
 others if they are mere automatic organisms. The 
 " aoTceable consciousness that results from the 
 healthy exercise of the energies of our nature " 
 is grotesquely inadequate to support the old 
 rule of right action: "Fais ce que dois, advienne 
 que pourra." Physical science is utterly unable 
 to supply any reason wliy we should " prefer a 
 n()l)le life before a long." \lf ever M. Renan, who 
 is of the house and lineage of Balaam, the son of 
 Beor, said a true word, it is this :\ " L'interet per- 
 sonnel n'inspire que la lachete." It is an insult 
 to my understanding to tell me that selfishness, 
 however sublimated, can yield the same fruits as 
 self-sacrifice; that from natural history, from physio- 
 logy, from chemistry, you can derive the elements 
 of moral force. \ Justice, duty, love, can be rooted 
 and grounded only in the Absolute and Eternal, i 
 They are the idlest of words, if no echo come back 
 to them from beyond the grave. "Virtue will 
 never cease to be admiral^le so lone: as man is 
 man," a Teutonic Materialist urges. I entirely 
 
58 MATERIALISTIC ETHIGS. [ch. 
 
 aofrec. But the liiiman mammal emptied of Per- 
 sonality, Freewill, Moral Responsibility, is no 
 longer man. " He had him from me Christian, 
 and look, if the fat villain liave not trans- 
 formed him ape." And then, assuredly, virtue 
 ceases to be admirable to him. "Independent 
 morality." Yes. I quite allow that, in a sense, 
 morality is independent. It is independent of all 
 systems, religious and metaphysical ; of all facts, 
 physiological or historical. In this sense it 
 is independent. > But it is not independent 
 of personality. How can we attribute ethical 
 qualities to a thhiff ? \ I maintain that whether 
 morality be regarded subjectively or objectively, 
 Materialism is fatal to it. Only a person is capable 
 of a moral act. And Materialism effaces per- 
 sonality. Let Materialism banish from the world the 
 old spiritual dogmas on wliich ethics have hitherto 
 rested, and the sombre picture, drawn by the great 
 poet of the last century, will assuredly be realised : 
 
 " Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, 
 And, unawares, Morality expires: 
 Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine ; 
 Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine." 
 
 It may be said that consequences are the scare- 
 crows of fools ; that things are what they are, and 
 that it is our wisdom to see them as tliey are ; 
 that their consequences will be what they will be, 
 
II.] A BEDUCTIO AD ABSUBDTJM. 59 
 
 and can in no way alter the facts of wliicli they are 
 tlie outcome. This is true enoiio;]! but it is not the 
 whole truth. Consequences assuredly do deserve 
 our attention. We must reject them, decisively, 
 as a criterion of morality. We are bound to admit 
 them as an element in ratiocination. A. reductio 
 ad absnrdimi is a good logical process. Why ? 
 Because man consists in reason. And so the fact, 
 that the doctrines of Materialism issue in unreason, 
 in that " universal darkness " of which Pope pro- 
 phesied, is enough to discredit them. If they are 
 true, the last word of philosophy is spoken in the 
 verse of Baudelaire, " Besigne-toi, mon ame, dors 
 ton sommeil de brute." But to tell me that this 
 is the conclusion of the whole matter, is in flat 
 contradiction to my deepest and most assured cer- 
 titudes. Certain to me is the reasonableness of 
 the universe. It is cosmos, not chaos. Be its final 
 cause immeasurably distant from our knowledge, 
 3'et every part of the jDrocess through which it 
 moves is found, vv^hen examined, to be intelligible. 
 "Nothing is that errs from law." There are 
 mysteries, indeed, and locked doors, everywhere. 
 As Hegel saw, every convex is concave, and every 
 concave convex. But this is not contradiction nor 
 unreason. Certain also to me is the supremacy of 
 duty. Whatever is doubtful, of this I am ineffably 
 sure, that right I must do, whatever the result; 
 that on the side of riglit I must be, whether it 
 triumph or not.\ And as certain to me is the 
 
60 MATEBJALISTIC ETHICS. [ch, 
 
 sacrcdness of love. I do not speak of those amours 
 de chair at which we glanced, in the last chaj^ter, 
 with tlie French novelist ; but of that passion for 
 the ideal, which is the light of life : 
 
 " Luce intellettiial, piena cl'amore, 
 Amor di vero ben pien di letizia, 
 Letizia die trascende ogni dolzore." 
 
 \But that which in my heart is love, in n\y con- 
 science justice, in my intellect reason, is one and 
 the same thing ; it is tlie primary truth of which 
 my whole moral being is full ; and any doctrine 
 which contradicts it is condemned already, even 
 if it were, apparently, as well established, as Mate- 
 rialism is, manifestly, ill established. ' For, in 
 truth, all schools of Materialists are confronted 
 with the initial difficulties of the unity of conscious- 
 ness, of the individuality and permanency of the 
 Ego. These facts, however complex and obscure — 
 and I fully recognise their complexity and obscurity 
 — are the stumbling-stone of every school of Mate- 
 rialists, just as they are the adamantine foundation 
 •of all spiritual philosophy. \And the writer who 
 seeks to explain them away, who asks me to believe, 
 upon his ipse dixit, that consciousness is a mere 
 fortuitous result of mechanism, that thought is a 
 mere cerebral secretion, that the Ego is a mere 
 sensation, is a dogmatist who makes far greater 
 demands upon my faith than any medieval hagio- 
 logist or Talmudic commentator. \ I know not any 
 article of any creed, which so largely taxes my 
 
u.] G0BBUPTEB8 OF WORDS. 61 
 
 credulity, as does the proposition that there can be 
 [ consciousness without personality, memory without 
 identity, duty without liberty .\ 
 
 No sort of compromise, no kind of modus vivendl, 
 appears to me 230ssible between the two schools of 
 Transcendentalism and Materialism. I admit in- 
 deed that we may learn much from many teachers, 
 whose theories I judge most false. Let us gladly 
 accept their facts. Let us also narrowly scrutinise 
 their arguments. The writers whom I have in 
 view, however admirable in other respects, are 
 assuredly great corrupters of words. Too often 
 they exhibit the smallest j^ower of distinguishing 
 between a nude hypothesis and a proved con- 
 clusion. They omit necessary links in their 
 reasoning, as when, for example, they pass at a 
 bound over the unbridged gulf between automatic 
 consciousness and deliberate volition. They tell 
 us, perhaps not quite accurately, that the brain 
 is the organ of thought,* and then they proceed 
 to argue as though they had demonstrated that it 
 is the cause of thought, and that intellect is a mere 
 " cerebral phenomenon." They talk glibly of '^ 
 causation, as if they knew all about it, overlooking i 
 their entire inability to analyse the causal nexus. ( 
 And what shall we say of the way in which they 
 
 * I should prefer saying that the brain is the organ, not of 
 thought, but of the jyhantasmata which furnish thought -witli 
 materials : it is the organ of imaghialiou, in the highest 
 sense. 
 
62 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 liabitually employ the term law ? It really means, 
 in physics, no more than '' an observed uniformity 
 of sequence or coexistence." But they give it a 
 sort of ^personification, and speak of it as a cause. 
 They confound it with necessity, forgetting that 
 there is all the difference in the world between 
 invariable regularity and necessary regularity. I 
 confess that I often put down the pompous pages 
 of some of the most famous of them and say to 
 myself — yielding, perhaps, too readily, to a pro- 
 fessional instinct — '^ If only I could have you under 
 cross-examination for half an hour ! How easy it 
 would be to turn you inside out, to show what 
 a mass of arbitrary assuniption, of confused ratio- 
 cination, of audacious sophism, all this brilliant 
 rhetoric is ! " 
 
 But let us remember that 2:)hilosopliy is the 
 science of principles, and so ought to be encyclical, 
 encyclopaedic. It must no more neglect the exact 
 sciences than the moral. '^A wider metaphysic 
 would not liarm our physic '*' is an abundantly true 
 warning. Equally true is it, that a wider physic 
 would not harm our metaphysic. It fills me with 
 amazement to see the arguments still resorted to by 
 men, learned in a fashion, and full of goodwill, but 
 quite unacquainted with the true bearings of the 
 problems which agitate the modern mind, nay, 
 totally devoid of the intellectual training necessary 
 in order so much as to appreciate them. Their 
 blindness to the signs of the times is well-nigh 
 
II.] NEW LIGHT ON OLD QUESTIONS. 68 
 
 miraculous. They do not seem to possess even 
 tliat sensitive membrane which, Darwin tells us, 
 is the beginning of the eye. Who, that is at all 
 competent to judge, can deny that the progress of 
 the sciences, during the present century, has largely 
 revolutionised the world of thought, or doubt that 
 many old questions assume quite a new aspect 
 in the light now shed upon them ? To take one 
 instance only, Transcendentalism is by no means 
 bound up with those dualistic conceptions, which posit 
 matter and mind as two incomprehensibly related 
 substances, eternally alien from each other, and 
 irreconcilably hostile. For myself, every day 
 that I live, I become more confirmed in the belief 
 vvhich I expressed some years ago, that '• the old 
 wall of partition between spirit and matter is crack- 
 ing in all directions," that " we shall come to recog- 
 nise a thinking substance, of which thought is the 
 foundation, not the resultant." * Even now — in 
 words which I gladly borrow from Mr. Romanes — 
 may we not regard " any sequence of natural 
 causation as the merely phenomenal aspect of the 
 ontological reality, the outward manifestation of an 
 
 * See Ancient Religion and Modern TJiov ght, -pp. d40-^45. This 
 view was practically admitted in the old scbolastic philosophy, when 
 the potentiality of so-called matter to put on fresh qualit-es was 
 allowed, though but slightly analysed. It is the teaching of the 
 Angelic Doctor that matter, materia prima, is not a substanct;, 
 cannot exist by itself, is poene nihil, and is susceptible of endless 
 transformations, all of which are due to higher and immaterial 
 energies. 
 
64 MATERIALISTIC ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 inward meaning?" The reality is spiritual, the 
 phenomenon merely the shadow and the symbol. 
 Materialism, like all errors, is but the distortion 
 of a truth. It is a false expression of that ten- 
 dency to unity which is so marked a characteristic 
 of the modern mind, and which is not false. A 
 century ago Lessing pronounced ev koL ttolv the last 
 word of philosophy. Whatever exception may be 
 taken to the formula, assuredly, it adumbrates a 
 great verity. And as assuredly none can be farther 
 removed from the apprehension of that verity, 
 than those who, like Diderot, discern in the uni- 
 verse nothing but " one and the same phenomenon 
 indefinitely diversified." Enveloped as we are, 
 according to the profound doctrine of the old Vedic 
 sages, in the veil of Maya, what grosser illusion 
 can there be than to mistake the fleeting shows 
 apprehensible by our senses for the Self -Existent ? 
 " Of Him, and by Him, and in Him are all 
 things." Most near and most hidden, all phe- 
 nomena consist by Him, all phenomena point to 
 Him, His indwelling leads us to His transcendence. 
 " Wer darf ihn nennen ? " — ''Who dare name 
 Him ? " — the poet asks.* And the question may 
 w^ell seem reverent, when we think how men talk 
 of the Absolute and Eternal as if He were alto- 
 erether such an one as themselves, as if He were 
 
 * Compare St. Augustine, Quid dicit aliquis, cum do Te dicit ? 
 Et vaj tacentibus de Te ; quoniam loquaces muti sunt. Confes. 
 1. i. c. 4. 
 
II.] DOGTA IGNOBANTIA. 65 
 
 the man in the next room. Let us celebrate that 
 higher ignorance, that docta ignorantia, as the 
 mystics speak, which is the kist word alike of 
 pliysics, of philosophy, of religion. ''Deveni in 
 altitudinem maris et silui." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 EVOLUTIONAEY ETHICS. 
 
 It is not very easy to over-estimate the extent to 
 which the modern mind has been stirred by the 
 doctrines popularly associated with the name of 
 Charles Darwin. There is no department of hmnan 
 thought, no S23here of human life, in which the in- 
 fluence of what is called the evolutionary philosophy 
 is not felt. I say advisedly, "what is called"; 
 for evolution really exhibits the mode, not the 
 cause, of development, and its ascertained facts lend 
 themselves to various interpretations. When, how- 
 ever, the evolutionary philosophy is spoken of, the 
 hypothesis of the universe so elaborately formulated 
 by Mr. Herbert Spencer is usually meant. It is 
 tha.t hypothesis which Professor Huxley has blessed 
 and approved as the " only complete and methodi- 
 cal exposition of the theory of evolution" known 
 to him, " a work that should be carefully studied by 
 those who desire to become acquainted with the 
 tendencies of scientific thought." This seems to be 
 fair enough. No one can deny to Mr. Spencer the 
 
II.] MB. 8PENGEB\S GEOWNING AGEIEVEMUNT. G7 
 
 praise of method, or, in a certain sense, of complete- 
 ness ; and unquestionably he does exhibit clearly 
 the tendencies of an influential school of contempo- 
 rary physicists. I do not doubt that all future 
 theories of the universe will have to reckon with the 
 facts so industriously collected by Mr. Spencer, and 
 with the speculations into which he has so ingeni- 
 ously fitted them. But I do take leave to doubt 
 whether the exposition of the doctrine of evolution, 
 Avhich Ave owe to him, will ultimately be accepted 
 as the true one. It appears to me too narrow, too 
 superficial, too mechanical, too inadequate to life. 
 Its completeness is attained by disregarding funda- 
 mental principles, both of metajohysics and of logic. 
 And, notwithstanding its parade of physical science, 
 it is not really founded upon experience at all. At 
 present, however, it is unquestionably a potent fac- 
 tor in the world's thought. 
 
 My purpose here is not to examine Mr. Herbert 
 Spencer's philosophy as a whole. I am now con- 
 cerned with only one department of it, the ethical. 
 It seems worth while, in view of the wide in- 
 fluence, both direct and indirect, exercised by Mr. 
 Spencer's writings, to devote a cliapter to the 
 evolutionary morality of which lie is the prophet. To 
 this part of his system, as appears from the intro- 
 duction to his Data of Ethics, he attaches peculiar 
 importance. His disciples are wont to glorify it as 
 
 F 2 
 
t)8 'EVOLUTION Alii ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 the crowning achievement of their master's philo- 
 sophy. And, assm^ecUy, it is the most noteworthy 
 endeavour known to me, to establish the rules of 
 right conduct upon a new basis. That basis Mr. 
 Spencer calls ''scientific." He shall himself explain 
 what he means by the adjective. " The considera- 
 tion of the moral phenomena, as phenomena of evo- 
 lution," he writes, is "forced" upon us, because 
 " they form a part of the aggregate of phenomena 
 which evolution has wrought out. If the entire 
 physical universe has been evolved — if the solar 
 system, as a whole, the earth, as a part of it, the 
 life, in general, which the earth bears, as well as 
 that of each individual organism — if the mental 
 phenomena displayed by all creatures up to the 
 higliest, in common with the phenomena presented 
 by aggregates of these highest — if one and all con- 
 form to the laws of evolution ; then the necessary 
 imj^lication is that those phenomena of conduct, in 
 the highest creatures, Avith which morality is con- 
 cerned, also conform."* But these "laws of evo- 
 lution" are considered by Mr. Spencer as purely 
 physical. He expressly tells us that " a redistribu- 
 tion of matter and motion constitutes evolution. "f 
 " The deei^est truths we can reach " — in morals, as 
 elsewhere— are, he assures us, "simply statements 
 of the widest uniformities in our experience of the 
 relations of Matter, Motion and Force." | 
 
 * Ddhi of Ethics, § 23. 
 
 t Ihid. § 29. Tli(! itnlics are iiiiuc 
 
 j First Principles, § l'J4. 
 
in.] MR. SPENCEn'S METHOD IN MORALS. G9 
 
 Such, according to Mr. Spencer, is the evolution- 
 ary method in moral philosophy. It is a purely 
 physical method. I said in my last chapter : "In 
 the long- run there are only two schools of ethics, 
 the hedonistic and the transcendental ; oidy two 
 possible foundations of morality, conscience and 
 concupiscence." There can be no doubt to which 
 of these schools Mr. Spencer belongs ; upon which 
 of these foundations he builds. Unquestionably he 
 must be reckoned with those " men of science " who 
 derive morality " from physical law, grounded solely 
 on what they call experience, and on analysis of and 
 deductions from experience;" who "insist that there 
 is no essential difference between the moral and the 
 physical order ; who agree in the negation of pri- 
 mary and final causes, of the soul and of freewill; 
 who eliminate moral liberty as a useless spring in 
 the machinery of matter ; who conceive of man as 
 an animal whose motive principle is what they call 
 liappiness." Experience and expediency — to these 
 principles in the domain of knowledge and of action, 
 they reduce all philosophy and all morality. And so 
 does Mr. Spencer. 
 
 But I may at once be met with the objection, 
 " You are going in the teeth of Mr. S23encer's re- 
 ])eated declaration that he adopts neither experience 
 nor expediency as his foundation. Has he not 
 severely criticised Benthani and the axiom, '■ The 
 greatest happiness of the greatest number ' in his 
 Social Statics, and in The Data of ethics ? Has 
 
70 EVOLUTIONAUY ETHICS. [cii. 
 
 he not, with equal vigour, assailed the doctrine of 
 experience upheld by Mill, substituting for it another 
 in which tribal considerations take the place of indi- 
 vidual instincts ? You must not interpret a writer 
 against his own expressly intended meaning." To 
 this I rej^ly, It is quite true that Mr. Spencer is 
 neither a Benthamist nor an adherent of Mr. Mill's 
 association-philosophy. True, likewise, is it that 
 he does not confine himself to the experience of the 
 individual, or adopt the bald empiricism which sums 
 up morality as enlightened self-interest. But it is 
 none the less true, first, that he dissents utterly from 
 the transcendental school as to the foundation of 
 ethics ; secondly, that he denies free-will in every 
 possible sense, and subordinates morality to the laws 
 of life, which laws he accounts of as purely phy- 
 sical; and thirdly, that he resolves right conduct 
 into the pursuit of happiness or pleasure. To expe- 
 rience and expediency he comes at last, be the pro- 
 cess ever so complicated. That fact all his dexterity 
 in evolving laws of conduct from tribal selfishness 
 cannot conceal, and will not abolish. It matters 
 nothing whether his point of departure is the race 
 or the individual. Morality so conceived, I contend, 
 whether in the race or in the individual, is not 
 morality at all, but something else ; tlie ])rinciple 
 upon which Mr. Spencer builds, when strij^ped of its 
 disguises, is not conscience but concupiscence. To 
 call him a particular Hedonist would be unjust. He 
 is an universal Hedonist, or say '' a rational Utili- 
 
III.] MR. SPENCER'S UTILITARIANISM. 71 
 
 tarian," if you will : and in that capacity he is as 
 liable to the objections urged in my last chapter, as 
 are Bentham, Mill, and Littre, as are Dr. Bain and 
 Professor Huxley. 
 
 I shall turn to Mr. Spencer's own works for the 
 evidence upon which I rest these three counts of my 
 indictment. The following well-known, and ex- 
 tremely significant words are alone sufficient to 
 establish the first : " There have been, and still are, 
 developing in the race certain fundamental moral 
 intuitions, and though these moral intuitions are the 
 results of accumulated experiences of Utility, gradu- 
 ally organised and inherited, they have come to be 
 quite independent of conscious experience. Jusfc in 
 the same way that I believe the intuition of space 
 possessed by any living individual to have arisen 
 from organised and consolidated experiences of all 
 antecedent individuals who bequeathed to him their 
 slowly developed nervous organisations — just as I 
 believe that this intuition, requiring only to be made 
 definite and complete by personal experiences, has 
 practically become a form of thought apparently 
 quite independent of experience; so do I believe 
 that the experiences of utility organised and consoli- 
 dated through all past generations of the human 
 race, have been producing corresponding nervous 
 modifications, which, by continued transmission and 
 accumulation, haYQ])ecome in us certain faculties of 
 
72 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 moral intuition — certain emotions responding to 
 right and wrong conduct, which have no apparent 
 basis in the individual experiences of utility."* I am 
 quite prepared to call this, as its author calls it, 
 ''rational utilitarianism." That it is not baldly empi- 
 rical is, to speak technically, merely its differentia as 
 a species of that genus, but cannot remove it into 
 another genus altogether — the transcendental. Nor, 
 indeed, would Mr. Spencer consent to our so remov- 
 ing it. On this point he is not in any way ambigu- 
 ous. Of the transcendental doctrine he is the 
 j^ersistent opponent. Mr. Sj^encer entirely denies 
 absolute ethics in the old sense. There can be no 
 eternal principles of right and wrong, he insists. 
 Why ? Because we could attribute righteousness 
 to the " jDower manifested through phenomena," 
 only by supposing it capable of unrighteousness also. 
 And " how can Unconditioned Being be subject to 
 conditions beyond itself ?"t How, indeed! Mr. 
 Sj^encer is supposed, by his disciples, to be here dis- 
 playing singular metaphysical acuteness. The truth 
 is that he is really misled by his assum2:)tions of the 
 most arbitrary a priori description regarding the 
 Ultimate Reality. His argument would be good 
 only if, as the old sophists taught, " Man is the 
 measure of all things." But he jDroceeds, '' Right 
 and wrong as conceived by us can exist only in 
 relation to the actions of creatures capable of 
 pleasures and pains ; seeing that analysis carries us 
 
 * Data of Ethics, § 45. t ^^«^- § 99- 
 
III.] MR. SPENCER AND BENTHAM. 73 
 
 back to pleasures and pains as the elements out of 
 which the conceptions are framed."* Thus we 
 arrive at an absolutely unmoral '' nature of things," 
 and the words right and v/rong are seen to have only 
 a subjective meaning, and only a mere momentary 
 consequence in the evolution of being. Mr. Spencer's 
 controversy with Bentham is not about the source of 
 ethics. " I conceive it to be the business of Moral 
 Science," he writes, "to deduce, from the laws of 
 life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of 
 action necessarily tend to produce happiness, and 
 what kinds to produce unhappiness."t Bentham 
 would quite agree, and so, by the way, would Pro- 
 fessor Huxley, who, as we have seen, seeks the ulti- 
 mate basis of morality " in the laws of comfort.'' 
 But let us hear Mr. Spencer further. " Its deduc- 
 tions," he says of his own ethical science, " are to 
 be recognised as laws of conduct ; and are to be con- 
 formed to irrespective of a direct estimation of hap- 
 piness or misery." A direct estimation of happiness 
 or misery. The adjective gives the measure of the 
 difference between Mr. Spencer's doctrine and 
 Bentham's. The difference is not essential. It re- 
 lates to a mere matter of detail. For whether the 
 estimation be direct or indirect, the things estimated 
 are always happiness or misery ; that is to say, as 
 the last word proves conclusively, pains or pleasures. 
 I, the individual, need not calculate, because, thanks 
 to the laws of heredity, I have a ready-reckoner in 
 
 * Data of Ethics, § 09. f Ibid. § 21. 
 
74 EVOLUTION ATtY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 my brain. The tribe has been good enough to cal- 
 culate for me, and all I am called upon to do is to 
 read down the tables of figures. Those tables are 
 ''the laws of conduct." They may be such, on the 
 utilitarian theory. They can be such on no other. 
 What, indeed, are they save formulas of '' utility, 
 not as empirically estimated, but as rationally deter- 
 mined ? " Mr. Spencer has proclaimed over and 
 over again that reason is bounded by experience. 
 His non-empiricism is only the tribal element con- 
 trasted with the individual. I claim to have shown, 
 in my last chapter, that it is impossible to derive any 
 rational criterion of right and wrong from either. 
 Mr. Spencer's method in morals, as elsewhere, is, I 
 repeat, purely physical, tliough he takes as his unit 
 of force the race, and not any one member of it. 
 With regard to this fundamental question of the 
 source of ethics, he is divided from transcendental 
 moralists by an impassable gulf. 
 
 And this brings me to my second point. I 
 consider, as I stated in my last cliapter, that the 
 ethical imperative carries with it the idea and the 
 fact of free volition. "Moral obligation," I wrote? 
 '' pre-supposes, nay postulates, a certain liberty of 
 the will. It is a necessity addressed to free activi- 
 ties : not, of course, absolutely free, but relatively : 
 free in the mysterious depths of consciousness to 
 choose between motives. Du kannst Menscli sein, 
 
III.] MB. SPENCER ON FREEWILL. 75 
 
 well du Menscli seiii sollst." Now, that Mr. Spencer 
 denies freewill, we all of course know. But it may 
 be well to show, from his works, how sweeping this 
 denial is, and what it involves. Consider, then, the 
 following extracts from the Principles of Psj/cho- 
 logij. " Memory, Reason, and Peeling, simultane- 
 ously arise as the automatic actions become complex, 
 infrequent, and hesitating ; and Will, arising at 
 the same time, is necessitated by the same con- 
 ditions.* "When the automatic actions become 
 so involved, so varied in kind, and severally so 
 infrequent, as no longer to be performed with 
 unhesitating precision — when after the reception of 
 one of the more complex impressions, the apj^ro- 
 priate motor changes become nascent, but arc 
 prevented from passing into inniiediate action by 
 the antao'onism of certain other nascent motor 
 changes appropriate to some nearly allied inq^res- 
 sion ; there is constituted a state of consciousness 
 which, when it finally issues in action, displays what 
 we term volition." f "That Will comes into 
 existence through the increasing complexity and 
 imperfect coherence of automatic actions, is clearly 
 implied by the converse fact, that when the actions 
 which were once incoherent and voluntary are very 
 frequently repeated, they become coherent and 
 involuntary." % " We have, therefore, a conflict 
 between two sets of ideal " — Mr. Spencer means 
 
 * Principles of Psychology, § 217, 
 
 t Ibid. § 218. X Ibid. 
 
76 EVOLUTIONABY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 imagined — '^ motor changes which severally tend to 
 become real, and one of which eventually does 
 become real ; and this passing of an ideal motor 
 change into a real one, we distinguish as Will." * 
 Hence he denies freedom of the will in set terms, 
 and proceeds: "All actions whatever must be 
 determined by those psychical connections which 
 experience has generated, either in the life of the 
 individual, or in that general antecedent life of 
 whicli the accunndated results are organised in his 
 constitution." f He then goes on to ''briefly 
 indicate," the nature of the current illusion. It 
 simply '' consists in supposing that at each moment 
 the ego is something more tlian the aggregate of 
 feelings and ideas, actual and nascent, whicli then 
 exists." I Thus it is that, '' a man .... is led 
 into the error of supj^osing that it was not the 
 
 impulse alone whicli determined the action 
 
 Naturally enough .... he says that he wills tlic 
 action since, psychically considered, he is, at that 
 moment, nothing more than the composite state of 
 consciousness by which the action is excited. But 
 to say that the performance of the action is, there- 
 fore, the result of his freewill, is to say that he 
 determines the cohesions of the psychical states 
 which arouse the action; and as these psychical 
 
 * Principle.^ of P.'<7/cJiologi/, § 218. It should not be forgotten 
 that the words " ideal," "a priori," '''necessary," and the like, arc 
 seldom used by Mr. Spencer in their proper metaphysical sense. 
 
 t Ibid. § 219. :j: Uid. 
 
III.] MB. 8PENGEB ON THE EGO. 77 
 
 states constitute himself at that moment, that is to 
 say that these psychical states determine thoir own 
 cohesions, whicli is absurd. Their cohesions have 
 been determined by experiences — the greater part 
 of them constituting what we call his natural 
 character, by the experiences of antecedent organ- 
 isms ; and the rest by his own experiences. 
 The changes which at each moment take place 
 in his consciousness, and among others those 
 which he is said to will, are produced b}'^ this 
 infinitude of previous experiences, registered in 
 his nervous structure, co-operating with the im- 
 mediate impressions on his senses."* We are 
 told that we must not call Mr. Spencer a materialist. 
 But crasser Materialism than this T have never met 
 with in the course of my reading. At the same 
 time it flatly contradicts the doctrine of the Un- 
 knowable, which in First Principles is said to do 
 everything, and to be in all our acts, but which is 
 certainly neither a registered experience, nor an 
 impression on our senses. Mr. Spencer continues, 
 '•' This subjective illusion in which the notion of 
 freewill commonly originates, is strengthened by a 
 corresponding objective illusion. The actions of 
 other individuals .... appear to be under no neces- 
 sity of following any particular order. But this 
 seeming indeterminateness .... is consequent on 
 the extreme complication of the forces in action. 
 
 * Ibid. I have been obliged to abridge, but I believe I Lave 
 given fully the gist of Mr. Spencer's argument. 
 
78 UVOLUTIONABY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 .... The effects are not calculable," but are 
 really " as conformable to law as the simplest 
 reflex actions. The irregularity and apparent 
 freedom are inevitable results of the complexity, • 
 and " — I beg tlie reader's particular attention to 
 this — " equally arise in the organic loorld under 
 parallel conditions.'''''^ To make it quite clear, 
 Mr. Spencer illustrates f "the delusion of free- 
 will " from the motion of a body acting under 
 various attracting forces. Let us say the moon for 
 instance. Man is quite as free therefore as the 
 moon in his motions ; neither more nor less. It is 
 a most marvellous statement ! Do we, in fact, 
 ascribe freewill to a body whose motion is complex? 
 Is that the reason why we consider other men 
 possessed of it ? But to go on Avith Mr. Spencer's 
 argument. Here is the crown of it. " Psychical 
 changes either conform to law or they do not. If 
 they do not conform to law, this work, in common 
 with all works on the subject, is sheer nonsense : 
 no science of Psychology is possible. If they do 
 conform to law, there cannot be any such thing as 
 freewill." He adds yet this: " Preedom of the 
 will would be at variance with the beneficent 
 necessity dis^^layed in the evolution of the cor- 
 
 * Ibid. The italics are mine. 
 
 f Mr. Kirkman in liis Philosophy ivithout Assumptions (pp. 214- 
 223) lias some exceedingly trenchant criticism on this passage. 
 That work was published in 187G. I um not aware that Mr. 
 Spencer has since corrected an illustration, justly described by Mr. 
 Kirkman us " the most astonishing that ever decorated a book of 
 science." 
 
III.] MB. SFENGEB'S ''BENEFICENT NECESSITY:' 79 
 
 respondence between the organism and tlie environ- 
 ment." * Beneficent necessity ! f Shall Ave reckon 
 a few of its results? Not only fevers, cholera, 
 black death, rattle-snakes, cobras and the tsetze fly, 
 but— what is even more to our present purpose — • 
 all liars, thieves, murderers, whoremongers and 
 adulterers : the Neros, Caligulas, Cartouches, Wain- 
 wrights of every age. Their actions were only a 
 greater or less degree of "correspondence between 
 the organism and the environment." " The 
 answering phenomena" result ''from the ac- 
 cumulation of experiences," and " would be 
 hindered did there exist anything which otherwise 
 caused their cohesions.":]: Rather than ''hinder 
 the cohesions " of a Borgia, of a Marquis de Sades, 
 we must show that freewill is an objective and sub- 
 jective delusion. 
 
 It is a tempting theme! .But I must turn away 
 from it to say one word on what I really am obliged 
 to call Mr. Spencer's sophism about conformity to 
 
 * Principles of P(:ychology, § 220. 
 
 f " Beneficent necessity."' But, as -^-a have seen, Mr. Spencer 
 teaches an absolutely unmoral " nature of tilings." AVill he con- 
 tinue to preach beneficent necessity wlien he lias told us that such 
 beneficence implies no intention Avhatever of benefitting ? Surely 
 behind the dreary verbiage of optimism ^Yith which I\Ir. Spencer's 
 volumes are replete, we may discern, if we have eyes, a creed of the 
 blankest, blindest indifference, the eternally stupid UnknoAvable, 
 not so far advanced as the much-despised Devil of popular Chris- 
 tianity, for that personage, at least, can interest himself in our 
 damnation, whereas the Unknowable has not the Avit even to do 
 wrong, much less to be always devising it. 
 
 X Ibid. 
 
80 EVOLUTIONABY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 law. What docs Mr. Spencer mean by law? 
 Evidently, in this place, that which must be: which 
 necessarily comes to pass. But this is a begging of 
 the question ; for it is by no means clear that there 
 may not be a free and deliberately chosen conformity 
 to law, as all men who believe at once in morality 
 and freewill, say there is. And again, the 
 teaching of j^^iy^ical science as expomided, for 
 example, by Professor Huxley, is that it knows 
 nothing of necessity, but goes upon uniform experi- 
 ence. Here is one of the many dilemmas in which 
 Mr. Spencer finds himself. Either he maintains 
 a genuine intrinsic necessity, and for this he has 
 no warrant from "science," or he maintains a coun- 
 terfeit necessity, equal only to uniform experience 
 in the past, and from this he will never, in good 
 logic, obtain a necessity which overthrows freewill. 
 The most regular conduct, in the ideally moral 
 man, would still be free, and his acts voluntary. 
 
 I go on to my third count— that Mr. Spencer 
 identifies moral goodness with pleasure. Turn wo 
 to the Dc'ta of Ethics. "There is one postulate," 
 he instructs us, " in which pessimists and optimists 
 ao-ree. Both their arguments assume it to be self- 
 evident that life is good or bad, according as it 
 does, or does not, bring a surplus of agreeable 
 feeling." " Thus there is no escape from the 
 admission that in calling good the conduct which 
 
III.] MR..8PENGEICB BULE OF BIGHT. 81 
 
 enhances life, and bad tlie conduct wliicli hinders 
 or destroys it, and in so implying that life is a 
 blessing and not a curse, we are inevitably assert- 
 ing that conduct is good or bad, according as its 
 total effects are pleasurable or painful." * Now, 
 the doctrine of our new law-giver is, so far, per- 
 spicuous enough. It soon becomes much less pel- 
 lucid. ^' Sworn foe to mystery, yet divinely dark," 
 he goes on to enlarge on the fact that pleasures 
 are " incommensurable," and so lets in, if need be, 
 a moral good, distinct, in genere suo, by the whole 
 breadth of its essence, from a mere " agreeable 
 feeling." f But at last he openly declares that 
 he accepts "the hedonistic end considered in the 
 abstract," though not the methods whereby current 
 hedonism would obtain it,:|: which, as I have al- 
 ready had occasion to observe, is a mere matter of 
 detail. He insists on "the truth that conduct is 
 considered by us as good or bad, according as its 
 aggregate results, to self or others, or both, are 
 pleasurable or painful." He holds that " every 
 other proposed standard of conduct derives its 
 authority from this standard ; " that " whether per- 
 fection of nature is the assigned proper end, or 
 virtuousness of action, or rectitude of motive .... 
 
 * § 10. 
 
 f See the passage beginning '' Were jjlcasnvcs all of one kind, 
 differing only in degree," in § 56, and, indeed, tlie whole of chaii. ix. 
 Much of his criticism of Centhani and the empirical Utilitarians 
 turns on this distinction. 
 
 t §58. 
 
 I^5^X2j 
 
82 EVOLUTIONAEY ETHICS. [en. 
 
 definition of the perfection, the virtue, the rectitude 
 inevitably brings us down to happiness experienced 
 in some form, at some time, by some person, as the 
 I fundamental idea." * ]1 ask, is happiness identical 
 \ with agreeable feeling ? If so, we shall find it 
 ' difficult to convince the thief that he should not 
 appropriate his neighbour's property, or the libertine 
 that he should not corrupt his neighbour's wife. 
 If, however, it is an ambiguous word, covering 
 ''right for right's sake," no less than '' ^^^^^^^^i'^^ 
 for pleasure's sake," one may fairly protest tliat 
 a science should not be built on an equivoque. In 
 any case, where is the moral obligation, the "ought" 
 in all this ? However, Mr. Spencer concludes that 
 "pleasure is as much a necessary form of moral 
 intuition as space is a necessary form of intellectual 
 intuition." f 
 
 And now I ask the reader to look at the argu- 
 ment upon which all this wordy edifice is founded. 
 '' If virtue is primordial and inde^^endent," Mr. 
 Spencer declares in his usual ex cathedra style, 
 "no reason can be given why there should be any 
 correspondence between virtuous conduct and con- 
 duct that is pleasure-giving in its total effects on 
 self, or others, or both ; and if there is not a 
 necessary correspondence, it is conceivable that the 
 conduct classed as virtuous should be pain-giving 
 in its total effects." % He undertakes hereupon to 
 
 * Ihid. § 15. t I^id. 
 
 \ Ihid. § 13. See the argument at length, pp. 32-4:4. 
 
HT.] MB, SPENCEU'S METAPHYSICS. 83 
 
 show by the examples of courag-c and chastity, that 
 " the conception of virtue cannot be separated from 
 the conception of happiness-j^roduciug conduct." 
 And so he concludes that the fundamental idea is 
 happiness. It really would seem as if Mr. Spencer, 
 absorbed in the attempt to make our higher facul- 
 ties, by physical methods, out of our lower, had 
 never had leisure to acquire even an elementary 
 knowledge of metaphysics. It is imposible, on 
 any other hypothesis, to understand how he coidd 
 have committed himself to such a proceeding — 
 and it is by no means unusual with him — as that 
 exemplified in the argument which we are con- 
 sidering-. This is what it amounts to. Because 
 two orders of being are inseparably united 
 in our experience, let us proceed to identify 
 them, and then deduce the higher from the lower, 
 as intellect from feeling, will from instinct, mind 
 from matter, and now virtue from happiness. I 
 beg the judicious reader to ponder this awhile. 
 And then let him go on with me to ask, Can it 
 be maintained that courage and chastity, judged 
 by this standard of the expedient, alvvays are 
 virtues ? What shall be said, from the strictly 
 utilitarian point of view, of the preventive check, 
 of prostitution, nay, of some of the most monstrous 
 forms of mmatural vice ? Can they be condemned 
 semper nbique et ah omnibus, wliich is the case 
 with everything intrinsically bad, according to 
 transcendental moralists ? Is courage a virtue 
 
 g2 
 
84 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 when it means certain death to the individual and 
 poverty to his wife and children ? Or when he 
 could put money in his purse, and so obtain the 
 means of much " agreeable feeling," by betraying 
 or destroying his comrades ? " Yes," says Mr. 
 Spencer, " because it benefits the race." '' But 
 why should I benefit the race at the expense of 
 my life — the only existence, as you teach me, 
 whicli I have ? " " Because, in so doing, you 
 gratify certain emotions, the result of organised 
 past experience within you." " Nay," I humbly 
 answer, " not within me, for I don't feel them in 
 the least ; I am a coward and a scoundrel by 
 nature." "But if you do not feel them vou ou^lit 
 to feel them." " How ' ought ' ? I cannot be more 
 developed than I am developed. Do you mean 
 that I am free to feel them, in spite of my coward 
 and scoundrel nature, and should exercise my free- 
 will and try to feel them ? " " No, no ; freewill 
 is, of course, an objective and subjective illusion ; 
 what I mean is that if you do not feel them, your 
 character will be bad." " What of that ? Can I 
 help it? But what do you mean by ' bad,' except 
 giving myself pleasure at the cost of another's pain ? 
 Well, why should I not ? Is not life a struggle for 
 existence, where the rule is, ' devil take the hind- 
 most'?" " But evolution would go on faster if 
 your conduct were good." This is really too 
 much for my unscientific nature. " Evolution ? " 
 I reply. "What signifies to me that 'redistribu- 
 
III.] MB.. SPENCER ON MOBAL OBLIGATION. 85 
 
 tion of matter and motion,' wliicli, as you tell mc, 
 ' constitutes evolution ? ' What do I care that my 
 ' actions, when decomposed into motions, must 
 exemplif}^ its laws ? ' * Damn evolution and its 
 laws ! Anyhow, I cannot help doing what I am 
 doing, and even if I could, lohere is the ohUga- 
 tion ? " 
 
 Where is the obligation ? Let us see what 
 answer Mr. Spencer is by way of giving to this 
 momentous question. And yet, in truth it is not 
 this question which he even so much as attempts to 
 answer. The problem which he considers is, "How 
 does there arise the feeling of moral obligation 
 generally ? " (Note " the feeling of moral obliga- 
 tion.") He re^^lies at length, that it arises like the 
 abstract notion of colour by prescinding from the 
 particular varieties of '^re-representive feelings," 
 or " the mutual cancelling of their diverse com- 
 ponents." f This he will have to be its genesis: 
 " Accumulated experiences have produced the con- 
 sciousness that the guidance by feelings which refer 
 to remote and general results is usually more con- 
 ducive to welfare than guidance by feelings to be 
 immediately gratified. The idea of authoritative- 
 ness has therefore come to be connected with feel- 
 
 * '' If tliat redistribution of matter and motion constituting 
 evolution goes on in all aggregates, its laws must be fulfilled in 
 tlie most developed being, as in every other thing ; and his actions, 
 when decomposed into motions, must exemplify its laws." — Data of 
 Ethics, § 29. 
 
 t Ibid. § 46. 
 
86 • EVOLUTIONABY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 ing-s having those traits (remote, future, &c.), the 
 implication being that the lower and simpler feel- 
 ings are without authority." * I must interpose 
 the question, Does experience warrant this distinc- 
 tion ? Are we not under the obligation, sometimes, 
 of acting quite irrespective of the future ? Take, 
 for example, Callista, in Cardinal Newman's touch- 
 ing story, refusing a grain of incense to Jupiter, 
 though uncertain, not only of the Christian heaven, 
 but of immortality. Would Mr. Spencer say she 
 was acting for the future good of the race ? But 
 she was not thinking of the race. Oh, yes, she 
 was, unconsciously ; he replies. In other words, 
 he imports his theory into an act, where no one 
 can find a trace of it by introsj)Cction or analysis. 
 Surely this is apriorism run mad. But let us turn 
 to Mr. Spencer's account of the other element in 
 "the feeling of moral obligation," coerciv^eness. 
 '' To the effects of punishment inflicted by law and 
 public opinion on conduct of certain kinds. Dr. Bain 
 ascribes the feeling of moral obligation. And I 
 agree with him to the extent of thinking that by 
 them is generated the sense of compulsion which 
 the consciousness of duty includes, and which the 
 word obligation indicates." f Mr. Spencer goes on 
 to observe that in his opinion " the earlier and 
 deeper element generated as above described," also 
 resides in it, "the feeling constituted by represen- 
 tation of the natural penalties." Inbred selfishness 
 * Ibid, The italics are mine. | Ibid. 
 
1 1 I.J A[R. SPENCER ON THE MORAL SENSE. 87 
 
 plus the fear of tlie police constable : siicli is, in 
 effect, his explanation of what we have been wont 
 to call the moral sense ! What are we to say to it ? 
 Perhaps it is hardly worth Avhile to say anj^thing. 
 Let me content myself with pointing out that in his 
 account of '^ the genesis of the sentiment of moral 
 obligation" compared wdth the abstract notion of 
 colour, Mr. Spencer gives us another specimen of 
 that peculiar method of his in metaphysics on which 
 I have already animadverted. Colour in general, 
 no doubt, is known by abstraction from colours in 
 particular. But moral obligation in general cannot 
 by any possibility be abstracted from a representa- 
 tion of ^' the natural consequences " in particular, 
 for the very simple reason that it is not contained 
 in them. " Moral " is one genus; "natural con- 
 sequences," meaning pains or pleasures, another. 
 And in abstracting, as in syllogizing, we are for- 
 bidden to pass from this genus to that genus. This 
 is elementary metaphysics. If the specific thing 
 called morality is not in the particular actions under 
 the form of ''authority" and " coerciveness," it 
 cannot be got from them by abstraction. If it is, 
 the genesis of it remains to be investigated, and 
 cannot be explained by an abstraction which has 
 not yet taken place. The sophism is glaring. 
 From particular colours, colour in general. Con- 
 cedo. From particular pleasures and pains, pleasure 
 and pain in general. By all means. But from the 
 representation of (future) pleasures and pains. 
 
88 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. , [ch. 
 
 morality in general ! Why not, then, sunbeams 
 from cucumbers, or the sense of ethical justice from 
 the varieties of the triangle ? 
 
 I venture to think, therefore, that Mr. Spencer has 
 no sort of rational answer to give to the question, 
 What is the obligation to right conduct ? To show 
 that such conduct is likely to result in ^' agreeable 
 feeling " to the individual, is not to invest it with 
 an ethical obligation. To show that it is likely to 
 result in '' agreeable feeling" to others— the tribe, 
 the race, posterity — is not to invest it with an 
 ethical obligation. These are mere motives, the 
 strength of which will vary indefinitely, as 
 characters or circumstances vary. They can be 
 nothing more than motives. The desirable is one 
 thing : the obligatory is quite another. In Mr. 
 Spencer's ethics, obligation has no place — not even 
 that provisional and transitory place which he 
 attempts to provide for it.* Nor is this to be 
 wondered at. The truth is, as the old Greek 
 proverb tersely expresses it, " To be good is diffi- 
 cult.'''' Duty implies self-sacrifice, and can never 
 come out of selfishness, however sublimated. On 
 Mr. Spencer's principles no valid reason can be 
 given why the individual is ever bound to sacrifice 
 
 * " The sense of duty or moral obligation is transitory and will 
 
 diminish as fast as moralisation increases With complete 
 
 adaptation to the social state that element in the moral conscious- 
 ness which is expressed by the word obligation will disappear." — 
 Data of Ethics, § 46. 
 
III.] MB. SPENGEB'S ''IDEALS 89 
 
 liimsclf. This difficulty, and others of a like kind, 
 have driven Mr. Spencer to the expedient of 
 describing an imaginary ethics, prevailing in an 
 imaginary society of perfect individuals, in which 
 self-sacrifice is not required. He takes refuge in 
 what he calls '' the ideal." He cannot answer the 
 questions raised by experience, and so he applies 
 himself, by the aid of that same experience, to draw 
 out the laws and customs of a social organism 
 whicli, on his own confession, is as purely unreal as 
 Eousseau's " state of nature." As Mr. Sidgwick 
 observes, he " proposes to deduce from fundamental 
 2:>rinciples what conduct must be detrimental and 
 what must be beneficial." How can he know what 
 must be! "Science" talks of what is, and has 
 been. And the perfect social organism neither is 
 nor has been. In experience, the happiness of all 
 has never yet been reconciled with the happiness of 
 each. How, again I ask, can self-sacrifice be a 
 duty ? Yet it is a duty. Shall we appeal to " the 
 nature of things ? " Mr. Spencer, with all the 
 weight of vast volumes expended on the subject, 
 declares the nature of things to be unknowable. 
 All he can do is to affirm that it may result in 
 "agreeable feeling" for some, if others undergo 
 very disagreeable feeling ; that in the progress of 
 the car of Juggernaut, these must be crushed, while 
 their fellows ride over them. But that is not 
 morality ; that is tlie struggle for existence. It is 
 impossible by definition that a struggle for existence 
 
90 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 can consist with iiniverscd welfare. And I want to 
 know what, according to the Spencerian doctrine, 
 are the laws of conduct binding on the less en- 
 dowed individual in that struggle. Is he to 
 execute himself witli a smiling face ? Where is 
 the justice ? How bring home to him the obliga- 
 tion ? 
 
 In one place, indeed; Mr. Spencer makes the 
 significant admission, ''It is not self-evident, as 
 Bentham alleges, that happiness is an intelligible 
 end while justice is not ; but, contrariwise, ex- 
 amination makes evident the greater intelligibility 
 of justice as an end." * Yet Mr. Spencer had pre- 
 viously told ns that pleasure is to the intuition of 
 morality what space is to intellectual intuition ! It 
 would appear, however, from this passage, that the 
 relation between justice and hajDpiness is by no 
 means clear. Indeed, if it were so, the same com- 
 j)utation might be made and tlie same result 
 reached, whichever of them we took for our 
 starting-point. In any case, it is required by the 
 principle of Hedonism, that we should pursue 
 justice only so far as the facts will warrant iis in 
 holding, that it will produce more agreeable feeling 
 than injustice, on the given occasion. And will 
 the facts always, or indeed generally, warrant us in 
 so holding ? How comes it that an opposite con- 
 viction is so often urged by some thoughtful people 
 as an argument for a life to come, and by others as 
 
 * Data of Ethics, § 60. 
 
III.] MB. SPENGEB AS PBOPEET. 91 
 
 a defence of Pessimism ? The truth is that con- 
 sequences are hidden from us. Mr. Spencer, in effect, 
 bids us to go by faith, be governed by emotion, 
 and trust in the extremely ambiguous experience of 
 past ages. And this in the name of ''science!" 
 But Mr. Spencer is really well aware that " ex- 
 perience " will not yield him Optimism. Hence, as 
 I have observed, he takes refuge in Avhat he calls 
 "the ideal." The world accords so ill with his 
 theories — " Qu'il a fallu s'en faire un autre et in- 
 ventor." "Pleasure," he predicts, " will eventually 
 accompany every mode of action demanded by 
 social conditions."* What — everi/ mode of action? 
 For example, chimney-sweeping, scavengering, and 
 listening to Parliamentary eloquence ? Yes. All 
 will be for the best in the best of all possible 
 worlds ; where altruism, not implying self-sacrifice, 
 will be reconciled with Mr. Spencer's great funda- 
 mental principle of " agreeable feeling." Well, 
 suppose, as obedient children, we humbly receive 
 tliis lively oracle concerning the land that is very 
 far off. But until that perfect consummation and 
 bliss, must the virtues which do imply self-sacrifice 
 wait to be justified in the eyes of men and women 
 — a great multitude which no man could number — 
 now called to practise them ? i^.las ! their eyes 
 will have been closed, their poor chance of some 
 scrap of earthly felicity — the only felicity — will 
 have passed away, long ages before, on Mr. 
 
 * Data of Ethics, § G7. 
 
92 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 Spencer's own showing, his millennium arrives. 
 Certainly Jesus Christ should have delayed His 
 coming' until then ! But perhaps the Crucifixion 
 was only an act of refined selfishness, bringing with 
 it the agreeable feeling of satisfied emotions. Has 
 not ^[r. Sjiencer favoured the world with a receipt 
 for transmuting the most specious altruism into the 
 most manifest egoism ? * 
 
 In a theory resting on happiness as its corner- 
 stone, the question of the value of life is of primary 
 importance. Mr. Spencer contrives to leave it out 
 altogether. The arguments of his Data of JEthics, 
 he tells us at its conclusion, " are valid only for 
 optimists." f Here, again, he is led to discourse 
 copiously on the ''ideal" society and the "straight" 
 man ; inconvenient questions about the real society 
 and the crooked man, about crime, vice, pain, dis- 
 ease, and misery in general being put by. He does 
 not take the totality of experience, but merely so 
 much as lends itself to his argument. How comes 
 it, I would ask, that man, who, as we are told to 
 believe, is always as much developed as ho can be 
 developed, should general ty or always suffer, as if 
 he did not correspond to his environment? He 
 does correspond to it; he cannot help corresponding, 
 in every stage. Yet he has to suffer. Is there 
 really, after all, no such thing as the problem of 
 
 * See the Appendix to the Data of Ethics, pp. 289-303. 
 t Ibid. p. 307. 
 
III.] MB. SPENOEB AND EXPERIENCE. 93 
 
 evil ? * or has Mr. Spencer solved it ? He tells us 
 that self-sacrifice is a transitional form of virtue. 
 Be it so. But are pain and death also transitional ? 
 Mr. Spencer appeals to experience. But so little 
 do his ethics agree with experience, that he is com- 
 pelled to invent a Laputa in which they will, as he 
 hopes, be verified. The question for Hedonists 
 being, whether it is worth while to aim at such 
 pleasures as life, at present, affords, whether mo- 
 rality, even as they account of it, brings an ade- 
 quate reward, he answers, "1 waive that point; 
 I am addressing none but optimists." But surely 
 this is to put himself altogether out of court. 
 
 So much must sufiice, at all events for our present 
 purpose, concerning Mr. Spencer's Evolutionary 
 Ethics. We have found that he is committed to 
 the following propositions. — It is absurd to speak 
 of eternal principles of right and wrong, these being 
 purely human conceptions, without meaning when 
 applied to the nature of things. Virtues are founded 
 on expediency ; not on a direct calculation of what 
 is expedient, but on the registration of it in the 
 organism. What is called moral obligation has 
 
 * At p. 31 S of his Data of Ethics Mr. Spencer glances at the 
 question whether pain be the only evil. The reader should note 
 that by a dexterous use of (ho word '' pain," two quite ineommeu- 
 surable evils, moral and physical, may be treated as if they were 
 identical. 
 
94 EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 its authority, in part, from this instinct, and, in 
 j^art, from the action of human law and public 
 opinion. All that does happen, happens by that 
 redistribution of matter and motion which consti- 
 tutes evolution : a process of beneficent necessity, 
 the cause whereof is neither moral nor immoral. 
 There is no such thing as a real human personality, 
 but only a succession of states of consciousness. 
 Freewill is a subjective and objective delusion, and 
 man having no power of choosing the least pleasur- 
 able of two courses, all moral conduct is determined 
 by the surplus of agreeable feeling, citlier in the 
 present agent or in his ancestors. Self-sacrifice is 
 a hio^her e^roistic satisfaction. Altruism need not 
 imply self-sacrifice, and in the ideal state never 
 will. To this should be added, in order to make 
 the sketch complete, that in the principle " outer 
 relations produce inner relations," we have " an 
 explanation of the advance from tlie simplest to 
 the most complex cognitions : " " from the simplest 
 to the most complex feelings : " * attraction and 
 repulsion transform themselves into the phenomena 
 of egoism and altruism, and morality results from 
 the persistence of force. f Now what are we to 
 say of this system of ethics ? I say that it is a 
 house of cards, built upon a foundation of sand. 
 
 * Principles of Psychology, § 214. 
 
 ■j- (See Fivtit Principles and Principles of Psychology, passim. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RATIONAL ETHICS. 
 
 It appears to me that the Positivism, Phenomenism, 
 Materialism, of whicli I have had so much to say in 
 the preceding chapters, should be regarded as a revolt 
 against Reason. "In the beginning was the Logos," 
 writes the author of the Fourth Gospel, popularising 
 for the Christian world the truth at tlie heart 
 of Plato's philosophy, that the Divine Reason is 
 the ground of being. The teachers whose doctrines 
 I have been criticising, essay, like Faust, a different 
 reading, and for Reason would substitute Sense : 
 '' Im Anfang war der Sinn." It is their primary 
 postulate, their dominant dogma, that the thouglits 
 and wills of men are a mere deiivate from, a mere 
 amalgam of, animal sensations : the effect of 
 forces inherent in external things, which are 
 ever changing ; which, as we are not unfrequently 
 told, " are essentially constituted by the sum of 
 their relations." The phrase, I may observe in 
 passing, is a contradiction in terms : for how can 
 relation be essence ? It is like saying that the 
 outside is the inside. Relativity is the first and 
 
9G RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 last word of the new philosophy : the correlation 
 of things and forces, in their varying moods, its 
 one theme. The Absolute it denies, or relegates 
 to the domain of the unknown and unknowable. 
 Fixed standard of good, amid the flux and reflux 
 of phenomena, it has none to offer. But the old 
 philosophy, that has hitherto informed the 
 civilisation of the Western AYorld, reposes upon 
 Reason, which is essentially irrelative. It is rooted 
 and grounded in the Absolute : the Absolute 
 without us and the Absolute within us. It bids 
 us look into our own breasts, and seek there 
 the source of our conceptions, our decisions. This 
 is, if I may so speak, a fundamental idea of Chris- 
 tianity, underlying its dogmatic theology. But it 
 is not necessarily bound up with Christian dogma. 
 In th-ese latter days one of its most effective preachers 
 has certainly been Kant. It was his ''high em- 
 prize " to overthrow the negative psychology of 
 the sensualistic school, which he found predomi- 
 nant,\by showing that the human intellect possesses 
 its own organisation, innate, independent of ex- 
 perience, and necessary even for the formation of 
 thought : \ to exhibit substance, causality, law, as 
 intuitive conceptions of the mind, and to point us, 
 for their explanation, not to tlie perceptions of 
 Sense, but to the judgments of Reason. 
 
 To Reason, then, must we resort for the true basis 
 
IV.] 
 
 WHAT ''HE AS ON" MEANS. 
 
 97 
 
 of ethics. And by Reason I understand — in Cole- 
 ridge's happy words — "the power of universal and 
 necessary convictions ; the source and substance 
 of truths above sense, and having their evi- 
 dence in themselves," In opposition to the 
 teachers whose views we have been considering, 
 I hold that there is a higher law than that 
 which finds expression in the sterile formulas of 
 Materialism, a law which is not evolved from 
 physical instincts, from the force of habit, from 
 imitation, from human respect, from selfishness, 
 personal or tribal, called, in the slipshod jargon of 
 the day, "utility;" a law which, as Aquinas writes, 
 is immutable truth, wherein every man shares who 
 comes into the world. That old doctrine of Natural 
 Eiglit, now so contemptuously rejected as a chimera 
 of the schools or an idol of the den, I hold to be a 
 sound doctrine, and the only sure foundation of 
 civilised life. I believe in the existence of justice 
 anterior to all experience, and wholly independent ; 
 of empirical deductions. \ I am persuaded that the j 
 moral law exists apart from the ephemeral race of ' 
 man; that it existed before that race appeared ^ 
 and will exist after that race has vanished from V^ 
 the earth ; that it is absolutely suj)reme over 
 us, as over the totality of being; and that we ^ 
 possess an organon whereby we may apprehend it.V 
 I shall i)roceed to give my reasons for this faith 
 that is in me, and without which human life would 
 lose for me its dignity and value. In what I am 
 
 f^' 
 
98 RATIONAL IJTHIGS. [cii. 
 
 r 
 
 about to write I prescind entirely from all tlieolo- 
 '■^gical theories and religious symbols. I admit, or 
 ^ ^ i rather I insist, that morality is in a true sense 
 ri'' ^ y^ndependent. I mean this, that our intuitions of 
 *\)»/ right and wrong' are first principles anterior to all 
 
 y/W systems, just as are the intuitions of existence and 
 
 ' flOv /of number. \ Now morality is a practical science. 
 fj/yy Its subject is man as he lives, moves, and has his 
 * y being in the well-nigh infinite complexity of social 
 relations. Its conclusions must, therefore, have to 
 do with the concrete, the conditioned, for it is the 
 science of human life. But then it views man 
 transcendentally — not only going beyond the facts 
 of sense, by means of our imaginative faculty, but 
 grasping thafli spiritual substance' which, cannot fall 
 within the range of physics. It is only in tlie light 
 of the ideal atmosphere which envelops and pene- 
 trates our intellect, and which is the very breath 
 of life to our spiritual being, that we can discern 
 ethical principles. I very confidentl}' affirm that 
 the progress of the physical sciences has not in the 
 least changed the moral conditions of human ex- 
 istence. And Mr. Huxley must pardon me if I say, 
 that when he tells us " Natural knowledge, in 
 desiring to ascertain the laws of comfort, has been 
 driven to discover those of conduct," he does but 
 darken counsel by words without knowledge. It 
 would be as reasonable to assert, that ethical 
 knowledge affords an explanation of the comnroir 
 pump. \ Ethics are coircerired with the actions of 
 men : physics with the properties of matter.*^ 
 
I v.] A UNIVERSAL METAPHYSIO. 99 
 
 There is this essential difference between the - 
 natural and tlie moral order, that physical science , 
 deals with facts, and tlie generalisations obtained 
 from them by means of the jjrinciple — assumed 
 but never proved — of the uniformity of nature ; 
 while ethical science starts from self-evident intui- 
 tions and categorical assertions. Thus its principles 
 are, in the strictest sense, transcendental. ' Not to 
 experience does the ethical "ought" aj^peal, but to 
 the reason of things.* It is founded not upon the 
 phj^sical, but upon the metaphysical ; not the 
 relative, but upon the absolute ; not upon the 
 phenomenal, but upon the noumenal. Not among 
 the beggarly elements of the external universe, but 
 An the inner world of consciousness, of volition, of 
 I finality, must we seek the ultimate bases of right 
 I and duty. Yes ; in its own sphere morality is 
 autonomous. \lt is absolutely independent both of 
 religious systems and of the physical sciences. 1 It 
 is a branch of what Leibnitz called perennis qucsdam 
 2')hilosophia — a imiversal metaphysic which en- 
 dures though " creeds pass, rites change, no altar 
 standeth sure " ; though steam and electricity and 
 dynamite revolutionise the external conditions of 
 human life. That philosophy — whether we term it 
 natural, or intuitive, or traditional — embodies a 
 number of 'first principles \ which are part of our 
 intellectual heritage, and of which we may say, iu 
 tlie words of the tragic poet, '' They are from ever- 
 lasting, and no man knows their birthplace." 
 Among these are the ideas and principles which 
 
 H 2 
 
100 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch, 
 
 are creative of ethics. The savage who does not in 
 some way distinguish between right and wrong is 
 not extant ; and if he were, he woukl not be man, 
 but something lower. There is, there can be, no 
 new morality in the sense of new original principles. 
 The conception of moral right was not absent from 
 mankind before\ biolog}^ became a science, or until 
 the Royal Society was founded j neitlier by any 
 process of chemistry or mechanics can it be reduced 
 to the attractions or repulsions of matter, or its 
 presence detected by instruments, however fine. 
 The rule of ethics is the natural and permanent 
 revelation of reason. Let us see what that reve- 
 lation is. 
 
 What is the most certain portion of all my know- 
 ledge ? Surely it is this, that I — the thinking 
 beino- — exist. In strictness all mv knowled2:e is 
 
 O ft O 
 
 subjective. Of what is external to myself I know 
 nothing except its potentiality. My knowledge of 
 it, directly or indirectly, is dependent ujDon my 
 sensations, which tell me, to some extent, its 
 qualities, but do not tell me what it really is, or 
 whether it is anything, if abstraction be made of its 
 qualities. \ The forms of intuition and of rational 
 induction supply a criterion of certitude infinitely 
 transcending any afforded by what it is the custom 
 to call "positive and verifiable experience."! Now, 
 as I have already insisted, the jjresence in our 
 consciousness of the first principles of morality 
 
IV.] THE SENSE OF MOBAL OBLIGATION. 101 
 
 is an indubitable factj As surely as I am conscious of 
 myself, so am I conscious of moral obligation. " There 
 is," writes Turgot, "an instinct, a sentiment of what 
 is good and right, that Providence has engraven on 
 all hearts, which is anterior to formal ratiocination, 
 and which leads the philosoj^hers of all ages back 
 to the same fundamental principles of ethics." * 
 I am quite willing to leave ''Providence" — the 
 divine concept — out of the question here. I wish, /?)^- - ^ 
 just now, to go merely by the facts of human ^.^_/4^ 
 nature. \And one of these facts — a primary one \ ^-^ 
 — is, I say, the sense of ethical obligation.\ Aristotle l^"^. ' ■ 
 considered it the special attribute of man that he ''"u x/ 
 is a moral being, enjoying perception of good and i' f/A 
 evil, justice and injustice, and the like. It is the C 
 doctrine of the Folitics that this marks man off 
 from the rest of animate existence. We know now 
 more than that g^reat master knew concerning- the 
 creatures inferior to man in the scale of beinsf. 
 For myself, I cannot deny the rudiments, at least, 
 of an ethical sense to some of them, the raw mate- 
 rial of the morality which is to be. I believe with 
 Professor Huxley — and it is always a pleasure to 
 agree with him — that " even the highest faculties 
 of feeling .... begin to germinate in lower forms 
 of life." Nature appears to me a vast hierarchy of 
 being, in which one order passes into another by 
 gradations so fine as to require "larger, other eyes 
 than ours " to trace them. Without thought — 
 
 * G^uvrcs, vol. ii. p. G02. 
 
102 ■ EATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 A , Reason — in the ground of things, this wide sphere 
 Jl ^y/cj|lifeis unintelligible to me. \ I hold with Kant 
 that mere senseless mechanism is quite insufficient 
 Vi to explain organic products.* \ With him, I regard 
 the entire history of organic life as a process of 
 development, brought about by the action of\imma- 
 terial causesVupon the forces and properties of 
 matter. But unquestionably it is of man only, that 
 we can predicate consciousness in the full sense of 
 the term. ''Nature," said Schelling, "sleeps in 
 the plant, dreams in the animal, wakes in the man." 
 Everywhere, throughout her vast domain, we seem 
 to see the\striving after individuality.\ Everywhere 
 there is, in some sort, a principle of unity, be it in 
 the atom of the inorganic world, the cell in the 
 lower vegetable forms, or the whole organism in 
 the higher. The plant has life in itself. Is it con- 
 scious of that life ? " For 'tis my faith that every 
 flower enjoys the air it breathes." So Wordsworth, 
 soaring in the high reason of his fancies. Who 
 shall say that he is wrong? In the animal 
 world we find a further development of individual- 
 ity. The action of mechanism becomes less and 
 less. Here is motion, self-originated ; here is some 
 
 * So Aristotle : " He who asserted tliat there is in nature, 
 as in animals, an intelligence which is the cause of the universe 
 and of all order, seems a sober man wlien we think of the 
 ill-advised utterances of his predecessors. Now we know, clearly, 
 that Anaxagoras first touched upon these views." Met. I. 
 c. iii. 
 
IV.] THING, INDIVIDUAL, PERSON. 103 
 
 degree of spontaneity ; here is consciousness, im- 
 perfect; indeed, but extending we know not how 
 far ; here are psychical faculties well marked, how- 
 ever scantily developed ; here is a certain account- 
 ableness. But in man we have more. Of him only, 
 I say, can consciousness be predicated in the proper 
 meaning of the word. He alone can recognise 
 and will the creative thought of his being. He 
 alone is free, for he exists for himself and not for 
 another.* He alone is an individual in the com- 
 pletest sense. He is more ; he is a person. Thing, 
 individual, person — ens, suppositum, hypostasis, as 
 the scholastics have it — these are the three degrees 
 in the dynamic evolution of being. At what period 
 in history the personality of man emerged, we 
 know not. But assuredly, whenever the period 
 was, his personality was due to the growth, side by 
 side with sensuous and instinctive impulses, of 
 another very different faculty, which gave him 
 quite other grounds of action. '.That was the dawn ' 
 of reason, which rendered man's liberty possible, 
 which enabled him to heconiQ potens sui, master of 
 his fate, by emancipating him from the yoke oi\ 
 instinct as no other animal is emancipated. | Free 
 volition implies the power of choosing a course of 
 action, without regard to the weight of motives, for 
 
 * I Iiave before my mind tlic definition of freedom given by- 
 Aristotle in tbe MetaphjiiiQS ,• t:\evOepos avBpuiTcus i aiiruv tycKU 
 ical fxi) aWov wy. 
 
/: 
 
 \> 
 
 104 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 or against such course.* It may be truly called 
 man's distinctive endowment, although the fore- 
 shadowings, the presentiments, of it — /xt/xT^'/u-ara tt^? 
 dv6pa)7rivr)<; i,(orj^ — may be found ill the lower animals. 
 It is the essence, the very form of his personality : for 
 it is the condition of the realisation of his ethical end, 
 in virtue of which he is a Person. It is the basis 
 as of ethics, so of jurisprudence and of politics — • 
 which are in truth mere branches of ethics — accord- 
 
 /jjring to the pregnant dictum of Hegel, " The exist- 
 J^y/ ence of Free Will is Right."! It is to personality 
 that rights attach. It is to personality that duties 
 attach. Both spring up from the same essential 
 ground of human nature. \ You cannot predicate 
 duties where you cannot predicate rights. They 
 are different aspects of one and the same thing. 
 " From each duty issues a right, the right to be 
 allowed to perform the duty, with precisely the 
 same logical force as from necessity issues possi- 
 
 , .^^ bility." t \ Duty is the ethically necessary: the 
 absolute and unconditioned claim of Right on me. 
 k Morality consists in deliberate self-submission to 
 that necessity: in voluntary obedience to that claim. 
 The power of willing right as right, and the con- 
 
 
 * It is a commonplace of tlie schools, '•' Liberum arbitrinm 
 liabctur, quando positis ad agendum reqnisitis, potest quis agove 
 vel non agere." There are cases of non-physical necessity, e.g., of 
 a single determining motive, of a spiritual instinct, of a knowledge 
 exhibiting the object as omni ex ^^arte boiuim, where freewill docs 
 not exist. 
 
 I Trendelenburg, Naturrecht auf dem Grunde der Ethil; § 45. 
 
IV.] THE MORAL LAW, 105 
 
 sciousness that he ought to will it, arc primary 
 facts of man's nature. And this free volition, 
 determined by the idea of good, is in itself a 
 revelation of the moral law. The autonomy 
 of the will is the object of that "lex perfecta 
 libertatis." " The ethical faculty," as we read 
 in the Critique of Fure Heason, '' enunciates 
 laws which are imperative or objective laws of 
 freedom." 
 
 When, then, we speak of the moral law, we mean 
 that rule of action which necessarilv arises out of 
 the relation of Reason to itself as its own end. 
 Necessity is its primary note. And it is a necessity 
 of a quite unique kind. The word is sometimes mis- 
 apjolied to the regular sequence or uniform move- 
 ments of matter, to the simultaneity of sensible 
 events.X It is rightly used of mathematical relations. 
 But the mathematically necessary is one thing ; the 
 morally necessary is quite another.X The special 
 characteristic of the morally necessary is denoted 
 by the word " ought." It is nonsense to say that 
 two sides of a triangle ought to be greater than the 
 third, or that two and two ought to make four. 
 The necessity which the word "ought" expresses is 
 derived from a law of ideal relation, obligatory on 
 our wills. Nor can you derive that necessity from 
 self-love, or prudence, or interest, tribal or personal. 
 It is absurd to say that a man ought to seek 
 "agreeable feeling." Expedience, utility can but 
 counsel. The moral law commands. ] It claims 
 
lOG RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 obedience as a thing absolutely good, as an end in 
 itself ; and by that very claim it exhibits itself as 
 transcending the range of human experience, as 
 universal, eternal, supreme over " all thinking 
 things, the objects of all thought." Of this law the 
 oriranon is the Practical Eeason, the Moral Un- 
 derstanding. Conscience. " Law rational," says 
 Hooker, '' which men commonly use to call the law 
 of nature, comprehendeth all those things which 
 men by the light of their natural understanding 
 evidently know, or at leastwise may know, to 
 be beseeming or unbeseeming, virtuous or vicious, 
 good or evil for them to do." " The several grand 
 mandates, whicli being imposed by the under- 
 standing faculty of the mind, must be obeyed l^y 
 the will of man " " are such that it is not easy 
 to find men ioiiorant of them."* Are we here met 
 with an objection that as a matter of fact the moral 
 judgments, which have obtained among men, are 
 diverse and irreconcilable ? The objection is not 
 a novel one, and, as Hooker goes on to observe, it 
 was sufficiently met by St. Augustine a thousand 
 years ago. " Do as thou wouldst be done to, is a 
 sentence which all nations under heaven are ao-reed 
 upon;" and here is the sufficient germ of a complete 
 ethical code. The sense of duty is a form of the 
 mind itself, although it may be said to exist as " a 
 
 * Ecclesiastical Polity, Book I. c. 8. Compare Aqiiinas : 
 "Lex naturalis nihil aliiid est quam participatio legis £eterna3 in 
 rationali creatura.'' Summa, 1, 2, q. 91, art. 2. 
 
IV.] ■ CONSCIENCE. 107 
 
 blank formula," which is filled up in a variety 
 of ways. " The altruistic instinct," as the barbar- 
 ous jargon of the clay calls it, is as much a fact of 
 human nature as "the eo-oistic instinct." The 
 sense of duty is universal ; it is an essential 
 attribute of our nature, inseparable from the con- 
 sciousness of self and non-self ; not a complete I 
 revelation, but the revelation of an idea, bound to 
 develof) according to its laws, like the idea, say, of 
 geometry. The ethical ignorance of barbarous 
 tribes is no more an aro^ument a":ainst the moral 
 law, than their ignorance of the complex and re- 
 condite properties of lines and figures is an argu- 
 ment against geometrical law. It is the function 
 of the intellect, here as elsewhere, to evolve abstract 
 truths from the complex and chaotic mass of 
 appearances and events, and to clothe them in 
 formulas which shall serve as current coin. \ That 
 very word, " conscience," by which we now 
 designate consciousness considered as a moral 
 judge, is of comparatively late origin. \ It was 
 unknown to the writers of the Hebrew Sacred 
 Books.* They speak of "heart" instead. It 
 does not occur in the Grospels, except in the 
 history of the woman taken in adultery, which the 
 most authoritative critics of our own day — whether 
 rightly or wrongly, I do not undertake to say — 
 regard as an interpolation. It was only after 
 
 * It is found in the Book of Wisdom (cb. xvii.), as might, of 
 course, be expected. 
 
108 ' RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 nascent Christianity appealed to the Gentiles, and 
 to the Jews scattered abroad, that the word was, so 
 to speak, naturalised in it. And then it was a new 
 word, in the Hellenic world : it seems not to have 
 come into use until after the Peloponnesian War. 
 So much as to the history of the term by which we 
 commonly describe the subjective organ of ethical 
 knowledge. Mr. Spencer tells us that both that 
 subjective organ and the moral law are in a per- 
 manent state of becoming. I do not doubt — I 
 shall indeed have occasion, presently, to insist 
 — that our insight into the moral law grows 
 deej^er in successive ages. But that does not 
 deprive either conscience, or the moral law, of 
 their imperative character for each j^articular act 
 recognised by me as obligatory, any more, than 
 it implies the destruction of ethical liberty, 
 .^ properly understood. What I discern as my 
 duty is binding upon me, hie et nunc, whether 
 my mental vision be true or false. \The point upon 
 which my conscience never varies is, that duty 
 existsA It is in vain for Montaigne to assert, " les 
 lois de la conscience, que nous disons naitre de la 
 nature, naissent de la coutume " : " les reo-les de la 
 justice ne sont qu'une mer flottante d'opinions." 
 Montaigne confounds the idea of duty in general 
 Avitli men's notions of their particular duties. 
 
 In that record of man's action which we call 
 history, Right and W^rong are the most important 
 words. Human progress means, before all things, 
 
IV.] JUSTICE. 109 /' 
 
 tlic education of conscience : the widening of the 
 circle of ethical obligation ; the deeper appre- 
 hension of the moral la^Y, that is of justice, 
 wherein, according to the fine verse of the Hellenic 
 2)oet, adopted by Aristotle, " lies the whole of 
 virtue's sum." j And justice, as Ulpian, quoted in 
 the first chapter of this volume, defines it, is " the 
 constant and perpetual will to render to each man 
 his right." This "right," it is sometimes said, 
 arises from the primordial idea of the person in 
 himself. It is well said; but the statement requires 
 to 1)6 guarded, for only in society is personality 
 realised ; " Unus homo, nullus homo." Hence that 
 other dictum, which must be received with even 
 greater caution, that right is the offspring of civili- 
 sation. , T-rue it is that right is not the attribute of 
 man in Rousseau's ''state of nature." The pre- 
 civilised epoch to which he turned for his Utopia was, 
 in fact, an epoch of the reign of chaotic violence, of 
 ferocious cruelty, of hideous cannibalism, of dirt un- 
 s^^eakable, of sexual promiscuity, of lying and hy- 
 pocrisy. And such is the state which his doctrines 
 tend to bring back. Unquestionably, it is society 
 alone that gives validity to right, for man is, in Aris- 
 totle's phrase, " a political animal." If we follow 
 the historical method only, we must pronounce the 
 \ birth-place of right to have been the familyj from 
 which civil polity has been developed. But if we 
 view the matter ideally, we must say that the 
 experience of the race is here merely an occasion. 
 
 / 
 
110 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 not a cause ; it does not create, it merely reveals 
 right. The social organism exhibits that which lies 
 in the nature of man, deep down in the inmost 
 recesses of his being, but which could, never have 
 come out of him in isolation. The idea of right 
 unfolds itself in history as the [vivifying principlel 
 of those public ordinances and political institutions, 
 whereby we live as civilised men ; the justification 
 of the common might, which, without it, would be 
 mere brute force. And as that idea is ever-in- 
 creasingly realised in the ethical fellowship of 
 successive generations, as the moral tone of the 
 social organism rises, so do individual concej^tions 
 of right become clearer and more adequate. For 
 man is not only " a political animal." He is also 
 a historical animal. And this it is, even more than 
 the Aristotelian criterion, which marks him off from 
 the rest of sentient existence. Consider, on the 
 one hand, the savage warrior torturing his 
 captive enemy, his untutored mind not suspect- 
 ing that he is acting unrighteously ; and on the 
 other, contemplate John Ploward on his "circum- 
 navigation of charity," not counting his life dear 
 so that he may redress injustice done to criminals. 
 Thus has the idea of right grown in the human 
 conscience. But an idea, in the true sense of 
 the word, it is. The great legists to whom 
 we owe the majestic fabric of Roman juris- 
 prudence knew this well. Hence their emphatic 
 recognition of the transcendental foundation of 
 
IV.] THE UNIVERSALITY OF BIGHT. Ill 
 
 ^Drivate right. It Avas an expression of tlio au- 
 gust doctrine, wliich they had learnt from the 
 philosophers of the Porch, that universal reason 
 governs the world ;( that the lives of men should be 
 regulated by that supreme order which is justice 
 in the soul, beauty in the body, and harmony^ in 
 the S2:)heres. j But it is to the Founder of Christianity 
 and the doctors of His religion — conspicuous among 
 them the masters of the medieval school — that the 
 world owes the clearest, tlie most prevailing, the 
 most cogent teaching as to the universality of 
 right and the solidarity of mankind.. Now tliis 
 characteristic of ^universality is an essential note 
 of ethics. I The theory of the moral law must 
 be founded on reason. To make of it a mere 
 deduction from exj^erience is to perform a mortal 
 operation upon it, is to reduce right and wrong to a 
 question of temperament, of environment, of cuisine, 
 of latitude and longitude. Hence the precept which 
 Kant lays down for our conduct, the rule by 
 which he bids us try and test its ethical worth : 
 Act so that the motive of thy will may always be 
 equally valid as a principle of universal legislation. 
 I do not say that this maxim is alone adequate as 
 the fundamental thought of ethics. It may be open 
 to the criticism tliat it is rather the uniform view of 
 a criterion than the pregnant principle of morals. 
 But, at all events, in its recognition of universality 
 it builds upon the everlasting rock. 
 
 What a change to turn from the ampler aether, 
 
/ 
 
 112 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 the diviner air of this spacious thought, to the 
 
 stifling empirical doctrine prevailing in our own 
 
 country, at which we glanced in the second chapter. 
 
 The belief that human law can be the ultimate 
 
 ground and the only measure of right is, indeed, 
 
 upon the face of it, so untenable, that one is lost 
 
 in wonder how it could possibly have obtained 
 
 such credit. MX rights the creation of positive law ! 
 
 The right to existence, for example ? Or the right 
 
 of self-defence ? Or the right to use, to the best 
 
 advantage, one's moral and spiritual faculties ? 
 
 Imagine a number of settlers, in a new country, 
 
 before they have had time to frame a polity. Are 
 
 they then devoid of these riglits? Surely it is 
 
 sufficient to ask such a question. But we are told 
 
 ^ that human rights arise from a contract, express or 
 
 implied. \ As a matter of fact, society is not founded. 
 
 upon convention, although I allow a virtual compact 
 
 whence is derived the binding obligation of laws 
 
 reo-ardin"- thino's in themselves indifferent. But if 
 
 the rights which I have instanced exist at all — and 
 
 in practice everyone admits their existence — they 
 
 possess universal validity. A contract may or may 
 
 not be. It is contingent. But these rights must 
 
 be. They are absolute. Right is founded on 
 
 necessity. What is necessary and immutable 
 
 cannot proceed from the accidental and changeable. 
 
 And rights are subjective expressions of Right. \^To 
 
 me it is evident, upon the testimony of reason itself, 
 
 that there are certain riglits of man which exist 
 
IV.] THE LAW OF NATURE. 113 
 
 anterior to and independently of positive law, 
 wliicli do not arise ea; contractu or quasi ex con- 
 tractu, and whicli may joroperly be called natural, 
 because they originate in the nature of things. And 
 here let me express my regret at the scanty and 
 uncertain treatment which this subject received 
 from one of the most accomplished of English 
 jurisprudents. In his Ancient Law, Sir Henry 
 Maine tells us that "the law of Nature" as the 
 Eoman jurisconsults conceived of it, " confused the 
 past and the present ; " that " logically it implied 
 a state of nature which once had been regulated by 
 natural law," while " for all practical purposes it 
 was something belonging to the present, something 
 entwined with existing institutions, something 
 which could be distinguished from them by a 
 competent observer." The law of nature, as I 
 understand it, and as I believe the Roman juris- 
 consults, following the great Hellenic philosophers 
 from Aristotle downwards, understood it, belongs 
 to the domain of the ideal. It is the type to 
 which positive law should endeavour, as far as 
 may be, to approximate ; but the approximation 
 nmst vary indefinitely according to social condi- 
 tions. I am well aware that what is noumenally 
 true may be phenomenally false ; that in the life of 
 men, principles must be viewed not in the abstract 
 but in the concrete, aa embodied in actual facts and 
 institutions. I quite agree with Sir Henry Maine 
 that, in jurisprudence we must rigorously adhere to 
 
 I 
 
114 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 the historical method. But it also appears to me 
 that the historical method alone is insufficient. Its 
 conclusions should be tested, should be corrected, 
 by that reason whicli is the ultimate court of 
 appeal. The law of nature is an expression of the 
 nature of things in their ethical relations. The 
 natural rights of man have an ideal — which means 
 most real — value, as showing the goal to which 
 society, in unison with individual efforts, should 
 tend. We live in a world of objects conditioned 
 by ideas. 1 A right is that one possession of the 
 individual, with which, in virtue of the moral law, 
 no power outside him can interfere. And what is 
 right, in another, is duty in me. All human rights 
 are really but different aspects of that one great 
 aboriginal right of man to belong to himself, to 
 realise the idea of liis being. And justice means 
 respect for those rights. In strictness, positive 
 law — the rule of reciprocal liberty — does not make 
 but merely recognises and guarantees them. A 
 Praetorian edict, an Act of Parliament, is not their 
 source but their channel. Our codes are only 
 formulas in which we endeavour, with greater or 
 less success, to apply, in particular conditions of 
 life and social environment, the dictates of that 
 universal law which is absolute and eternal 
 Righteousness. This is, in Burke's magnificent 
 language, "that great immutable, pre- existent 
 law, prior to our devices and prior to all our 
 sensations, antecedent to our very existence, by 
 
IV.] -'GOD IS LAW, SAY THE WISE:' 115 
 
 which \vc are knit and connected in the eternal 
 frame of the universe, out of which we cannot stir." 
 This law, the great Roman orator had declared 
 two thousand years before, " no nation can over- 
 throw or annul ; neither a senate nor a whole people 
 can relieve us from its injunctions. It is the 
 same in Athens and in Eome ; the same yesterday, 
 to-da}'-, and for ever." This is the law of which 
 Hooker majestically proclaims, '' Her seat is the 
 bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world : 
 all things in heaven and earth do her homage; 
 the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest 
 as not exempted from her power." 
 
 " God is law, say the wise." In Him the ethical 
 order is eternally conceived, eternally realised. 
 But the moral law leads to, is not derived from, the 
 Theistic idea. It bears witness to verities eternal, 
 transcendental, noumenal. Its correspondence with 
 the needs of our nature proclaims to us, as with the 
 voice of an archangel and the trump of God, that final 
 causes are a necessary element in ethics. From the 
 fact of ethical obligation we ascend to its source 
 in the Infinite and Eternal.* Hence Kant finds 
 
 * " I certainly am not prepared to deny," observes Mr. Sidgwick, 
 witli his usual caution, "that the conception of duty, in ordinary 
 minds, carries with it the implietl relations of an individual will 
 with a universal will, conceived as perfectly rational." — The Methods 
 of Ethics, p. 21 G, Third Edition. 
 
 I 2 
 
116 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 in the moral law a natural idea of pure Theism. 
 Tied down to tiie phenomenal world, as he esteems, 
 on all sides of our being, by the very conditions of 
 knowledge, we have here a way of escape into the 
 noumenal. He judges that the realisation of the 
 highest good which the ethical faculty, the practical 
 reason, prescribes, implies an order above that of 
 nature. There must be, he argues, a life beyond 
 the plienomenal, wliere the triumph of the moral 
 law shall be assured, where its rewards and 
 penalties shall be adequately realised ; there must 
 be a Supreme Moral Governor, who will bring 
 about that triumph. Thus the speculative ideas of 
 God and Immortality are practically warranted. 
 And here is the crown of that ethical teleology, as 
 which we must reckon the philosophical system of 
 this powerful thinker, taken altogether. But in 
 the moral law, Kant finds not only tlie promise 
 of the life which is to come, but also of that which 
 now is. " It is the fundamental fact, not only of 
 individual existence, but of the social order. It is 
 the supreme rule alike of private and public action ; 
 the sun of righteousness illuminating the world of 
 rational being, and there is nothing hid from the 
 heat thereof. For the great thinkers of the ancient 
 world all duties — officia — were included in ethics : 
 jurisprudence was a part of moral philosophy. The 
 masters of the medieval school judged likewise. It 
 is from the time of the Renaissance that we may 
 
IV. J FUNDAMENTAL POSITIONS. 117 
 
 trace the cle-ethicising of public life,"* Dr. Mar- 
 j tiiieau has correctly obKserved that by Luther morals 
 ; were treated "as matters of social police." Our 
 modern utilitarianism is the logical outcome of his 
 autinomianism. " Kant has again pointed the 
 world to a more excellent way. He deduces the 
 institution of the State from the categorical impera- 
 , tive of duty. It is for him essentially an ethical 
 society, rooted and grounded in the moral law. Its 
 very foundation is the rational acknowledgment 
 that there are eternal, immutable, principles, and 
 rules, of right and wrong. This is the everlasting 
 adamant, upon which alone the social edifice can be 
 surely established. Rear it upon any other founda- 
 tion, and you do but build upon sand. However 
 fair the structure may seem, fall it must, and great 
 will be the fall of it."* \ 
 
 And now let me conclude this chaj^ter by exhibit- 
 ing, succinctly, what I hold to be the fundamental 
 positions of Rational Ethics. The moral law, an 
 expression of Universal Reason, is a formal law, 
 sovereign over all ; a law of ideal relation, obliga- 
 tory upon all wills. \The desire to do right as right — 
 that alone is morality. \ The idea of "right" or 
 " ethical good " is a simple aboriginal idea, not 
 
 * I ;im (.j[uotuig here IVuin my work, A Centunj of Revolution, 
 p. 194. 
 
118 RATIONAL ETHICS. [ch. 
 
 decomposable into any other, but strictly siil generis. 
 It cannot be resolved into the idea of happiness, or 
 of pleasurcj or of greatest usefulness ; neither does it 
 mean "• commanded by the Deity," or '' imposed by 
 social needs." It admits of no definition save in 
 terms of itself, which is equivalent to saying that it 
 is an ultimate, like the perception of sweetness or of 
 colour. It is innate, in the sense that every human 
 being has the capacity of acquiring it. But it is 
 not due to experience as a cause, nor does it depend 
 for its obligation on calculations taken from experi- 
 ence. At the same time it has definite relations to 
 various other ideas, while perfectly independent of 
 them as to its essence. If, for example, it be said — 
 as I do most em]3hatically say — that virtue is a neces- 
 sary condition of " the greatest happiness* of the 
 greatest number," this is by no means to resolve the 
 idea of virtue into that of the greatest haj^piness. 
 Or, again, if it be denied — as I do most emphatic- 
 ally deny — that a virtuous course of conduct ever 
 
 * Happiness is a question-begging word. " Our being's end, and 
 aim?" Yes and No. It depends on wliat is meant by " happiness." 
 If the good commonly called pleasure or " agreeable feeling " 
 (bonum delectabile) is meant, No. Yes, if we are to understand 
 by it what is called by Aristotle eu§atjuov/a, and by the scholastics 
 beatitudo: a psychical state, arising from the equilibrium of the indi- 
 vidual with his proper end — the Sovereign Good, the Everlasting 
 Righteousness, the True Object of rational desire, in whom all 
 ideals are realised. That is " our being's end, and aim." 
 " Und Avenn du ganz in dcm Gefiihle selig bist, 
 Nenn'es dann wie du willst, 
 Nenn's GUick ! Hcrz ! Licbe ! Gott I " 
 
IV.] "/ OUGHTr 119 
 
 can lead, by its very nature, to unliappiness : from 
 this it by no means follows that such a course of 
 conduct is virtuous because it cannot lead to unliap- 
 piness. Nay, even if the calculation of the sum of 
 pleasures did, on every conceivable occasion, indi- 
 cate which was the moral and which the immoral 
 course, it would still remain true that such an indi- 
 cation would be extrinsic to the goodness or evil 
 pointed out, would be neither its justification nor its 
 explanation. Right, as such, differs from comfort, 
 delectation, and expediency, as such, in its very 
 essence, as hearing does from seeing, or feeling from 
 intellect. The ideas are incommensurable ; they 
 have no common standard ; they cannot be reduced, 
 the one to the other, by any process of computation. 
 
 ^ '' I ought " never does mean it is pleasantest for 
 me, or for thee, or for all of us. It has therefore 
 nothing to do, in its own nature^ with Egoism, 
 Altruism, Utilitarianism, or any method of reckon- 
 ing consequences, save the one moral consequence, 
 good or evil. Its only "because" is a moral be- 
 cause : "I ought, because to do so is morally right 
 
 I in the given circumstances ; I ought not, because it 
 is morally wrong." Does any one object that this is 
 tautology ? Not so. Tlie first part of such sentences 
 preceding the ''because" contains the individual 
 application to me of the axiomatic or universal 
 fornnda contained in the part following it. 
 
 I feel deeply that it is of the utmost importance 
 to insist upon these truths at the present day, when 
 
120 RATIONAL ETHICH. [ch. 
 
 there is so strong and so growing a tendency in the 
 l^opular mind to believe that virtue and duty, jus- 
 tice and injustice, are mere matters of convention ; 
 when for the eternal distinction between true and 
 false, right and wrong, we are so peremptorily bid- 
 den to substitute the uncouth shibboleths of a sect 
 7 of physicists. I had occasion, not long ago, to cite 
 the well-known dictum, " The rights of man are in 
 a middle." The printers were good enough to make 
 )f it, " The rights of man are in a muddle." In a 
 muddle indeed ! My object in this chapter has been 
 to let in, if possible, a little light upon the weltering 
 chaos ; to help my readers, in however small a 
 degree, to give order and fixity to their ethical con- 
 ceptions. But one is nothing in England if not 
 what is called ''practical." Your average English- 
 man does not care greatly whether there be a God 
 or not, provided the price of stock does not fall. 
 There is truth in Mr. Carlyle's account of him, that 
 
 [ if you want to awaken his real beliefs, you must 
 \ descend into his " stomach, purse, and the adjacent 
 
 / regions. "\ Kant tells us that a man has reason and 
 understanding. Reason seems to have well-nigh 
 departed from the British mind since the overthrow 
 among us of the Aristotelian philosopy by Hobbes 
 and Locke. I quoted, in a former chapter, the state- 
 ment which seems to me not unwarranted, that Mr. 
 Herbert Spencer is the philosopher of the present 
 day in England and in America. No wonder. 
 He is most industrious, most precise, most con- 
 
IV.] ENGLISH UNIDEALISM. 121 
 
 sclentious, most clear, when he chooses, within 
 certain limits. But they are narrow limits, like the 
 four walls of a shop. Of the vast horizons beyond 
 he has no knowledge. " The vision and the faculty 
 divine," essential to all philosophy worthy of the 
 name, are not in him. His popularity is an emphatic 
 testimony to the singular unidealism — I had almost 
 written the congenital imbecility — of the English 
 mind in respect of eternal and divine realities. I 
 suppose an eftbrt should be made to heal it. But 
 who is sufficient for these things ? Exoriare aliquis. 
 Meanwhile, in order to put myself in touch with the 
 national sentiment, I shall, in the remaining chapters 
 of this work, indicate six practical applications of 
 the doctrine of Right and Wrong, upon which I 
 have been insisting. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. 
 
 I HAVE before me the most considerable contribution 
 made, of late, to the world's criminal jurisprudence: 
 the new Italian Fenal Code, together with the ela- 
 borate Report Avith which it was submitted to the 
 Chamber of De^^uties by Signer Zanardelli, the 
 ]\Iinister of Grace, Justice, and Public Worship of 
 the Italian Kingdom. These documents are, for 
 many reasons, of great interest, and would well repay 
 detailed examination. Here, however, I am con- 
 cerned with them from only one point of view. 
 The first question which a Fenal Code suggests is, 
 What is the rationale of punishment ? That ques- 
 tion Signer Zanardelli does not so nmcli as discuss, 
 deeming, apparently, that the matter is too jilain. He 
 contents himself with citing the dictum, " Poena 
 in paucos ut metus in omnes," observing, by wa}^ of 
 comment upon it, that "when the penalty surj^asses 
 the limit required by this necessary end of preven- 
 tion, it becomes useless punishment." His mind is 
 dominated by the utilitarian view of the subject. 
 And so in another place in liis Report he lays it 
 
v.] THE RATIONALE OE CRIMINAL LAW. 12?. 
 
 down as a kind of axiom, "The whole endeavour 
 of the legislator, in the discipline and proportion of 
 2^enalties, ought to aim at rendering them capable 
 of greater repressive energy, and of more vigorous 
 corrective effect, at the same time." Punishment 
 should deter and correct, and so prevent crime. That, 
 according to this jurisprudent, is the whole account 
 of criminal justice. Is it a sufficient account ? 
 
 A great number of people, I take it, will be sur- 
 prised that the question can even be asked. It has 
 never dawned upon them that there can be any 
 other reason for punishing a man, than to deter him, 
 and, by his example, others, from the commission of 
 crime, and, if possible, to reform him. And of these 
 two reasons, the first would be taken to be the chief. 
 The great object of the penal law is held to be the 
 prevention of crime by presenting to men weightier 
 motives for abstaining from it, than those which 
 invite to its commission. Now I am far from deny- 
 ing that punishment is, and ought to be, deterrent. 
 \Man is not, as Rousseau taught, naturally good.j 
 The Terror set up by his Jacobin disciples, given 
 over to a strong delusion to believe this lie, is the 
 best comment upon their master's "central moral 
 doctrine." " The evil in the world," is not, as Mr. 
 John Morley Avould have us believe, " the result of 
 bad education and bad institutions."* It has its 
 root in the heart of man, whence "proceed evil 
 thoughts, murders, adultery, fornication, thefts, false 
 
 * Diderot, vol. i. p. 5. 
 
fvl' 
 
 124 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 witness, blasi^liemies." Self-love is ever seeking its 
 gratification at the expense of others ; land fear, the 
 mightiest and most universal of limnan affects, is its 
 ^strongest curb.\ "Homo liomini lupus," says the 
 proverb. It is the true account of man, apart 
 from law and justice. One important function of 
 criminal jurisprudence is to tame and discipline 
 the wild beast that is within us. Punishment is 
 assuredly deterrent. And if it can be made reme- 
 dial, so much the better, according to the inscription 
 placed by Clement XI. over the door of the prison 
 of St. Michael, " Parum est inij^robos coercere poena, 
 nisi probos efficias disciplina." It sliould, however, 
 be noted, that in the mouths of Materialists "re- 
 formation " means nothing more than hindrance by 
 fear of consequences, or prudent self-restraint. The 
 only ethical signification of the word is conversion 
 of the will from bad to good. But I deny that this is 
 a sufficient account of punishment. I say that its 
 primary object is not the protection of society, nor 
 the reformation of the criminal. I say that it is 
 first and before all things vindictive. I can well 
 imagine how repulsive the word will sound in the 
 ears of many. To me, that so elementary a truth 
 should even require to be justified, is sad and strange 
 indeed. It is a melancholy token how deeply Mate- 
 rialism has de-ethiciscd the public mind of a gene- 
 ration — 
 
 "... ^Yantillg• virtue to be strong 
 
 Up to the measure of accorded might, 
 
 And daring not to fet-l the majesty of right." 
 
v.] PENAL SANCTION. 125 
 
 But let lis look cat the subject a little in detail. 
 
 Wo will start from a fact Aviiicli every one will 
 admit : tlie fact that punishment is associated in our /v.v*^'^ 
 minds with wrong-doing. Is the association neces- ^...^^y'^ 
 sary or accidental ? The philosophy of relativity . ^^jjr^ 
 says it is accidental. That "the imposition of • -j i-*- 
 punishment is the distinctive property of acts held ^^ • 
 to be morall}^ wrong " is, in substance, the teaching ^^'^■^^ 
 of utilitarian, experimental, and physical moralists 
 generally. You make an act wrong, they tell us, 
 by making it penal. It is not punished because it 
 is wrong, but wrong because it is punished. Their 
 idea of law is purely empirical. Porce sufficiently 
 explains it. In opposition to this doctrine I main- 
 tain, with Kant,\that the connection between moral 
 evil and punishment is not accidental, but neces- 
 sary: the work of reason,* not of human caprice, i 
 I will proceed to explain Avhy I hold this. 
 
 In the last chapter I have unfolded, at some 
 length, what I understand to bo meant by the 
 moral law. \ I hold that it means that rule of action 
 which necessarily arises out of the relation of reason i^^r^^„^ 
 to itself as its own end. And I hold that the first fij^x4^ 
 fact about man is his consciousness of the moral i;^^,.^-^ 
 law, and of his obligation to obey it.\ But the very , ^.;, 
 words "law" and obligation" "imply a penal .«— - 
 
 * " Endlicli ist iioch etwas in der Idee unserer praktisclicn Vov- 
 nnnft welches die Uebertretnni'- eines sittlicher Gosetzos bcsi'loitet, 
 iiiimlicli ilire Strat'wiirdigkcit." Kriiih der Prulc. VerniinJ't, 1st Part, 
 Book I. § 8. 
 
126 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 sanction. The categorical imperative, " Thou 
 oughtest," does not, and cannot mean, '' Thou 
 may est, if thou wilt, and if thou dost not, thou wilt 
 be none the worse." What it does mean is this : 
 '' That is right ; it should hQ] it is unconditionally 
 / desirable ; thou canst do it, and thou must : thus 
 / dictates the law of thy being, the law that thou art 
 jborn under, which it is thy great good to obey, thy 
 Supreme evil to disobey." \ Such is the witness in 
 ourselves. And its testimony is supremely rational. 
 ''Good doth follow unto all things by observing 
 the course of their nature, and, on the contrary 
 side, evil by not observing it. And is it possible 
 that man, being not only the noblest creature in the 
 world, but even a world in himself, his trangressing 
 the law of his nature should draw no manner of 
 harm after it ? Yes : tribulation and anguisli unto 
 every soul that doetli evil." * So Hooker, who 
 never wrote more judiciously. His argument does 
 but formally justify a universal, an ineradicable 
 feeling of humanity, yhe deep conviction that in 
 moral evil must be sought the explanation of phy- 
 sical evil, is the conunon heritage of our race.\ 
 That there is an inseparable connection between 
 wrong-doing and punishment, is an organic instinct 
 of conscience. And instinct — we may call it, with 
 Kant, the Voice of God — never deceives. There is 
 always a reality which corresponds with its antici- 
 
 * Ecclesiastical Polity, Book I, c. 9. 
 
v.] SELF-WILL AND THE UNIVEliSAL WILL. 127 
 
 pation. AVliat answers to the instinct of retributive 
 justice is punishment. It is as real as the law. It 
 is contained in the law. It is involved in the trans- 
 gression. It is, in Hegel's phrase, V' the other half 
 of crime."! The sanction imj^lied in the moral law 
 is the- violent restoration of the moral order. Not 
 that the violence is an end in itself, although it is a 
 necessary accompaniment. Certain is it that pain 
 qua pain, like pleasure, qua pleasure, is morally 
 valueless, and cannot be the outcome of any ethical 
 law, qua ethical. As certain is it tliat punishment 
 includes pain, in some sense. 
 
 Let us realise this. Punishment is not something 
 arbitrary. Wrong-doing — called, variously, accord- 
 ing to the point of view from which it is regarded, 
 sin, crime, delict — is the assertion of a man's own 
 particular self-will against the UniversalWill, which 
 is Supreme Reason, Suj)reme Right — for reason and 
 right are synonymous. |/ Penalty is the re-assertion 
 of the Universal Will. It is not a wrong done to 
 the criminal. It is a riglit done to him to redress 
 his wrong-^v;^ right due to liim as a person. It is a 
 manifestation, an application, to him of that reason 
 wherein he too consists, and which he has outraged. 
 His compulsion is undone. He is restored to his 
 right. The moral law must rule over all : over the ' 
 good by their submission to its behests, over the evil 
 by their endurance of its penalties. Justice is an abso- 
 lute and aboriginal principle of it. And we shall 
 find no better definition of justice than Ulpian's : 
 
128 THE ETHICS OE PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 " Tlic constant and perpetual will to render to ever}^ 
 man his right." Punishment is the right of the 
 wrong-doer. It is the application of justice to him. 
 " It is," in St. Augustine's fine phrase, "the justice 
 of the unjust." The wrong whereby he has trans- 
 / grossed the law of right has incurred a debt. Jus- 
 tice requires that the debt be paid, that the wrong 
 be expiated. 
 f i/^\y Yes, expiated. This is the first object of punish- 
 V \ x"' ment — to make satisfaction to outraged law. 
 Y Nj^othing is more profoundly unphilosophical than 
 r , ' ithe notion so dear to the sickly sentimentality of 
 ^ the day, that when a man ceases to do evil, a 
 
 s^ionge is passed, so to speak, over the reckoning 
 against him. 
 
 " A spotless child sleeps on the flowering moss — 
 'Tis well for him ; but when a sinful man 
 Envying such slumber, may desire to put 
 His guilt away, shall he return at once 
 To rest by lying there ? Our sires knew well 
 The fitting course for such ; dark cells, dim lamps, 
 A stone floor one may writhe on like a worm ; 
 No mossy pillow blue with violets ! " 
 
 Profoundly true are these verses of Robert 
 Browning. Similar is the teaching of Plato in the 
 Gorgias, so strangely misapprehended by some of 
 his modern interpreters, who have read him with 
 the eyes of a nineteenth-century sentimentalist. 
 " The doer of unjust actions is miserable in any 
 1 case ; more miserable, however, if he be not 
 punished and does not meet with retribution, and 
 
 /A 
 
v.] WHAT MAKES ClUMTNAL JUSriCE JUST ? 120 
 
 less miserable if he be punished, and meets witli 
 retribution at the hands of gods and men." The 
 whole argument of Socrates in liis famous passage 
 is founded on the need of expiation. " The 
 greatest of evils," he insists, "is for a guilty man 
 to escape j^unishment : " for " he who is punished 
 and suffers retribution, suffers justly ; but justice is 
 good : so that he who thus suffers, suffers what is 
 good." St. Augustine has summed it up in four 
 pregnant words : '' Nulla poena, quanta poena ! " 
 
 Such is the sanction of that moral law, which is 
 the very raison cVetre of government. Man, as 
 man, has no claim upon my obedience. Only to 
 the law of Right, speaking through human ministers, 
 is my obedience due.( And here is to be found the 
 underlying principle which makes criminal justice 
 just. The moral law apprehended, not made, by 
 our practical reason, implies that right is rewarded 
 and wrong punished. That, as Ave have seen, is 
 involved in the very conception of law. Penal 
 jurisprudence is simply a moral judgment exhibited 
 in visible form. Thus Aquinas, with his usual 
 clearness and precision: "The law of nature" — 
 the law arising from that Divine Reason which 
 is the nature of things — " proclaims that he 
 who offends should be punished. But to define 
 that this or that punishment sliould be inflicted 
 upon him, is a determination drawn from the law 
 of natui;e by human law."* And to the same 
 * Summn, 1, 2, q. 95, art. 2. 
 K 
 
130 THE ETHICS OF rUNISHMENT. [en. 
 
 effect Butler: '^ Civil government being- natural, 
 the punishments of it are so too."* 
 
 This is the true philosophy of criminal law. In 
 matter of fact, as Sir Henry Maine has pointed 
 out, two great instincts lie at the root of it : to 
 avenge and to deter. Both must be recognised and 
 reckoned with. Resentment at wrong, desire of 
 retribution upon the wrong-doer, are primordial 
 principles as deeply implanted in our nature as pity 
 or desire of self-preservation — implanted by the 
 same Almighty hand, and as legitimate, nay, 
 necessary. They are organic instincts, which we 
 230ssess in common with the whole creation, groan- 
 ing and travailing in pain together with us, in 
 the struggle for existence, throughout nature's 
 illimitable sphere of carnage and cruelty. But it is 
 an essential condition of civilised human life that 
 individual retaliation, sure to be cruel and ex- 
 cessive, should be superseded by the passionless 
 punishment of law. The state is an ethical society, 
 wherein the instinct of revenge is moralised : that 
 is, removed from the domain of impulse to the 
 domain of reason, elevated from the particular to 
 the universal. It thus becomes, as retributive 
 justice, an expression of the ethical might of tlic 
 social organism: an attribute of Right, and tlie 
 
 * Analogy^ Part I. c. 2. 
 
v.] THE LEX TALIONIS. 131 
 
 bulwark of freedom. The primitive rule was the 
 lex talioms. It was said by them of old time, An 
 eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. And this 
 was said, St. Augustine well points out, not to 
 foster revenge, but to check it.* The natural 
 tendency of the injured person is to do unto the 
 offender as he has done, and more also. But, as St. 
 Augustine goes on to remark, there is a vengeance 
 wliich is just : "est qusedam justa vindicta." Nor, 
 let me observe in passing — to meet an obvious 
 objection — is this just vengeance at variance with 
 the spirit of Christianity. If ever any man had a 
 right authoritatively to expound that spirit, it was 
 the illustrious saint and doctor whom I have just 
 quoted. Tlie precepts of the Sermon on the 
 Iloiini as to non-resistance of evil, as to the 
 turning of the left cheek to the smiter of the right, 
 naturally occur to the mind. I am far from saying 
 that those elect souls who embrace counsels of 
 perfection — who, in voluntary poverty, voluntary 
 chastity, and voluntary obedience, lose their lives, 
 and find them — may not give to these precepts 
 literal obedience, if they are led to do so. But 
 St. Augustine points out that the words of the 
 Divine Master have reference rather to " the 
 preparation of the heart," to the inward spirit of 
 man, than to the outward act.f The supreme rule 
 
 * Contra Faustum, xix. 25, 
 f Ep. Qxxxviii. 2. 
 
 k2 
 
132 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 is to return good for evil. Unwillingness to inflict 
 pain may be a flagrant violation of that rule. The 
 greatest good which can be rendered to the unjust 
 is justice. Charity strictly requires us to render it. 
 The principle of the lex tcdionis is justice, retribu- 
 tive justice. That principle is everlastingly true, 
 even if, in our deeper apprehension of the sacred- 
 ness of human personality, we put aside the cruder 
 applications given to it by primitive jurisprudence. 
 We no longer mutilate the thief, although there are 
 cases in which it might, at first sight, seem not 
 improper so to do. I remember one such in my 
 experience as a magistrate in India. A man had 
 cut off the two hands of a boy, three or four years 
 old, in order to possess himself of the silver bangles 
 which were soldered round the child's wrists. And 
 when the poor little sufferer was brought into court, 
 and held, up his mutilated arms, and a thrill of sick 
 horror ran through the building, I confess I for one 
 regretted bitterly, for a moment, that the archaic 
 rule could not be applied, at least in that case. 
 Penal servitude for life seemed inadequate : and 
 was. Pain, sharp pain, sharp and repeated, would 
 assuredly have been a more fitting penalty. Un- 
 questionably, in the existing criminal jurisprudence 
 of the world, the element of physical suffering does 
 not find sufficient place. There is a large class of 
 crimes— assaults, especially of a lascivious character, 
 upon women and children, and aggravated cruelty 
 to animals, are instances of them — in the punish- 
 
T.] RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE. 133 
 
 ment of wliicli a liberal employment of the lash, or 
 of some other instrument of corporal torture, is 
 imperatively demanded by justice. 
 
 This by the way. My present point is, that 
 whether we view the matter historically or philo- 
 sojjhically, the punishment inflicted by human 
 jurisprudence is, like all punishment, primarily 
 vindictive. It is the legal consequence, united to 
 the legal cause by a necessity arising from the 
 nature of things. Crime, as the old Roman juris- 
 consults discerned, gives rise to a vincukun juris 
 which punishment discharges. The raison d'etre 
 of the State is to unite men by a moral bond. And 
 assuredly, in its highest function, the ministration 
 of justice, it is not unmoral. The civil magistrate 
 is the dispenser of righteous retribution, as the 
 minister of God; "a revenger to execute wrath 
 upon him that doeth evil," St. Paul teaches; the 
 "wrath" being that which is clue to the wrong- 
 doer. \" Punishment," says Kant, "must be justi- 
 fied as punishment : that is as mere evil for its 
 own sake, so that the punished person, when he 
 looks thereon, must himself confess that Right is 
 done to him, and that his lot is entirely commen- 
 surate with his conduct."* The moral law, 
 whether speaking through the still, small voice 
 within, or with the tongue of a Judge from an 
 external tribunal, merely shows to us our true 
 
 * Kritik (lev Prak. Verniinft, 1st Part, Book I. § 8. 
 
134 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 selves, as Hamlet showed the unhappy Gertrude to 
 herself. It mirrors us to consciousness. Punish- 
 ment is the return of a man's deed upon himself. 
 " Illo nocens se damnat quo peccat die," says the 
 maxim of Roman jurisprudence. And again : 
 '' Ipse te poena) subdidisti." The magistrate does 
 but pronounce the doom to which the wrong-doer 
 has subjected himself by his own deed ; the penalty 
 which, by the eternal law of Right, whence human 
 law derives its majesty, na}^-, its very life, is the 
 pro23er comj^lement of his crime. 
 
 The world's jurisjorudence is the phenomenal 
 expression of noumenal truth : the human inter- 
 pretation of a divine ideal : imperfect at the best, 
 but bound, as " the thoughts of men are widened," 
 ever to a23proximate more nearly to that Absolute 
 Standard of which it must ever fall short. It rests 
 in the last resort upon that knowledge of right and 
 wrong in the springs of action which is possessed 
 by our self -judging moral understanding. It rests 
 upon conscience : the voice of divine reason within 
 us. The whole philosophy of relativity, in the 
 sphere of ethics as elsewhere, is a blasphemy 
 against reason. It is an attempt to derive morality 
 from the unmoral. \If our actions are the necessary 
 outcome of molecular changes in the brain, of 
 atomic movements of matter, it is an absurdity to 
 talk of moral responsibility.^ If the difference 
 
\ 
 
 v.] WHAT MORAL ACTION MEANS. 135 
 
 between good and bad is not abs olute , it does not 
 exist at all. You cannot get such a difference from 
 the consequences. All materialistic explanations 
 of moral approval and disapproval, of guilt, self- 
 accusation, remorse, destroy the reality of them. 
 Yes : and destroy the whole value of life, for the ^ .^ 
 whole value of life is its ethical value. 1 " If the^r^ 
 rulers of the universe do not prefer the just man to " ,vr_,^ 
 the unjust," said Socrates, " it is better to die than .^^ 
 to live." If righteousness is not the supreme law, 
 existence is indeed a ridiculous tragedy. Mate- 
 rialism, in all its schools, reduces man from a 
 person to a thing : for it denies to him that faculty 
 of volition which is the essence of his personality : 
 the conditiokii of the attribute constituting him man. 
 Volition and morality are indissolubly connected : 
 their realm is one and the same. Man is volitional 
 and ethical qua man. The co]iception of him as a 
 machine is irrational. L''1iomme-machme, I say, is 
 nonsense, worthy of the buffoon who invented the 
 phrase. 
 
 Moral action means the action of a self-conscious 
 and self-determined being, and can mean nothing- 
 else. Kant has summed the matter up in a 
 pregnant dictum : " Everything in nature acts 
 according to laws : the distinction of a rational 
 being is the faculty of acting according to the 
 consciousness of laws." The su^^reme question at 
 issue in the world of thought, in these days, is 
 whether that facult}'- really exists. I say advisedly 
 
130 THE ETHIC 6 UE EUNISHMENT. [cu. 
 
 " the supreme question." The very existence of 
 morality dej^ends upon it. For a plain man, Dr. 
 Johnson's rough-and-ready way of settling it may 
 well suffice: "Sir. we knoio that our will is free, 
 and there's an end of it." But that the speculative 
 difficulties which may be raised concerning this 
 question are enormous, every tyro in metaphysics 
 is aware. To enter into a detailed investigation of 
 " that labyrintli of philosophy," as Leibnitz called 
 it, would require a bulky volume. Its outlines, 
 however, may be, and ought to be, here briefly 
 indicated. For a statement of the creed of Deter- 
 minism we cannot do better than go to the late Mr. 
 John Stuart Mill. In his criticism of Sir William 
 Hamilton he pronounces it " a truth of experience 
 that volitions do, in point of fact, follow determinate 
 moral antecedents with the same uniformity and with 
 the same certainty^ as physical effects follow their 
 physical causes." And in the second volume of his 
 Logic he writes as follows : " The doctrine called 
 Philosophical Necessity is simply this : that, given the 
 motives which are present to an individual's mind, 
 and given likewise the character and disposition of 
 the individual, the manner in which he will act may 
 be unerringly inferred ; that if we knew the person 
 thoroughly, and knew all the inducements which 
 are acting on him, we could foretell his conduct 
 with as much certainty as we can predict any 
 physical event." Now if tliis doctrine be true, it is 
 obvious that there is no place in human life for 
 
V.J TEE QUESTIOX OF FREE WILL. 137 
 
 culpability and moral turpitude, in the old and only 
 intelligible sense of the words. If a man's actions 
 are absolutely determined by character and dis- 
 position — -which Mr. Mill regarded as the outcome 
 of heredity and environment — and by the pressure 
 of passions and desires, then most assuredly he is 
 not morally responsible for those actions. And 
 the miserable people, of whom Dante tells us in 
 the Inferno^ are fully warranted when they blame, 
 as the cause of their sufferings, everything except 
 their abuse of their free personality, their own bad 
 will : " when they blaspheme God and their pro- 
 genitors and the whole race of men, the place, the 
 time, the origin of their seed and of their birth." 
 But no. It is not so, 1 Psychological heredity is 
 not uniform, is not absolute. The soul has an 
 originating causality, and is the fount of duties and 
 deserts, of guilt and punishment. Man is not the 
 mere creature of circumstances, the predestined 
 product of nature. Side by side with mechanical 
 determination by empirical motives, there exists in 
 him self-determination. He belongs — consciously 
 belongs — to the sphere of reason as well as to the 
 sphere of sense. And therefore he is the subject of 
 moral obligation. We may, in some sort, admit that 
 the character of a man at any moment determines 
 his choice of motives : but he is largely determined 
 as he determines himself. A man's character, I say, 
 is not something imposed upon him from without, 
 but something shaped, to a great extent, by himself 
 
138 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [ch. 
 
 from within : and '' a self-distinguishing and self- 
 seeking consciousness" is its "basis."* He is, 
 according to a wise Spanish j)roverb, "the son ofj 
 his own deeds." \ " La liberte humaine," says 
 Bossuet, " semble de sa nature indeterminee : elle 
 se precise par Paction : en se precisant elle s'enve- 
 loppe et s'enchaine de ses actes, comme le ver-a-soie 
 dans sa coque. Elle ne reste pas moins maitresse 
 de dcnouer le lien qu'elle a none : elle agit et rcagit : 
 elle soulient le choc et livre I'assaut." It is grandly 
 said. And with the- grandeur, not merely of 
 rhetoric, but of truth. Aristotle teaches — and the 
 teaching is by no means antiquated, although two 
 thousand years old — that the rational nature 
 supplies the rule of life, and that the law of habit 
 provides for the attainment of facility in doing 
 what reason requires. But habit is the outcome of 
 volition ; and for the freedom of man's volition 
 it is enough to appeal — this is the justification of 
 Dr. Johnson's dictum — to the categorical imperative 
 of conscience. \" I ought" implies "I can."\ The 
 realisation of duty is impossible for any being 
 which is not conceived as capable of self-deter- 
 mination. The speculative idea of freedom, like 
 the speculative ideas of God and immortality, is 
 practically warranted. 
 
 When, then, we affirm human freedom of action, 
 we mean by it, action from a motive intelligible to, 
 
 * See T. H. Green's Prolofioinena to Ethics, Book II. c. 1. 
 
v.] THE FIRST WORD AM) THE LAST. 139 
 
 and chosen by, a self-conscious moral l)cing'. A 
 deed may be morally necessitated, and morally 
 free. A good will — " the only thing which an 
 unsophisticated man finds of absolute value in the 
 world " — is a will self-determined by the moral law. 
 Here is the supreme vindication of liberty. But a 
 good will is not innate. It is acquired. It is the 
 fruit of victory over the essentially base and 
 ferocious promptings of self-love: over "the flesh 
 with the affections and lusts." To keep in subjec- 
 tion the lower self, the self of the animal nature, 
 and to emancipate the higher, the rational self : to 
 rise from the subjective to the objective — this, 
 I say, is the ethical freedom, which is our true end ; 
 and which we can work out, if we will. From this 
 power of the will, springs that moral responsibility 
 which supplies the rationale of criminal justice, and 
 warrants its solemn ceremonial. This it is which 
 compels us to account of guilt as something more 
 than disease ; of punishment as something more 
 than discipline. This alone gives validity to the 
 idea of Duty, as the paramount law of existence. 
 Duty : it is the first word and the last ; and the 
 
 most precious. 
 
 \" Stern Daugliter of the Voice of God ! ^ "^"^ 
 
 j Duty ! if tliat 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 calmest tlic weary strife of frail humanity ! 
 
140 THE ETHICS OF PUNISHMENT. [cii. 
 
 " Stern Lawgiver ! j^et dost thou wear 
 The Godhead's most benignant grace ; 
 Nor know we any thing so fair 
 As is the smile upon thy face. 
 Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
 And fragrance in thy footing treads; 
 Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; 
 And the most ancient heavens, through thee, arc fresh 
 and strong." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. 
 
 Is there a right and wrong in politics ? Wliat is 
 the general faith of the age upon this question ? 
 It is an ancient doctrine, and a Avholesonie, that 
 faith is best shown by works, Man acts because 
 he believes. We should observe his deeds if wo 
 want to know his real convictions. Now is it too 
 much to say that the popular conception of the 
 public order is essentially mechanical? Mr. Carlyle, 
 whom I must reckon among the seers of the century 
 — few men have had so clear, so piercing a vision — 
 tells us, '' Love of country, in any high or generous 
 sense, in any other than an almost animal sense, or 
 mere habit, has little importance attached to it. 
 .... Men are to be guided only by their self- 
 interests. Good government is a good balancing of 
 these, and, except a keen eye and appetite for self- 
 interest, requires no virtue in any quarter. To 
 both parties it is emphatically a machine ; to the 
 discontented ' a taxing machine,' to the contented 
 ' a machine for securing property.' Nowhere is 
 
142 THE ETHICS OE POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 the deep, almost exclusive faith we have in 
 mechanism more visible than in the politics of 
 this time."* But in mechanism there is no room 
 for ethics. How can we predicate morality or 
 immorality of a machine ? And if from the general 
 view thus expressed by Mr. Carlyle, we descend to 
 l^artieulars, we find, abundant corroboration of it in 
 every department of public life. Of international 
 politics it is hardly necessary to speak. Is not the 
 map of Europe covered with torn-up treaties ? Let 
 us look at domestic politics. How many statesmen, 
 of recent times, could be mentioned, concerning whom 
 we could ask even Jewish Apella — without unduly 
 taxing his credulity — to believe that they are guided 
 by ethical principles? that, however fine their phrases, 
 they are animated by any other desire than the 
 love of power and place ? 
 
 I will take examples merely from English poli- 
 tical life, which, perhaps, will compare favourably 
 Avith the public life of any other countr^^ An 
 extremely thoughtful and interesting volume, by 
 the late Mr. Bagehot, his Biographical Studies, 
 supplies a very pregnant one. He is writing of 
 Lord Lyndhurst, whom he inclines to consider, and 
 I think with reason, a great political intellect — an 
 intellect singularly well fitted for the perception 
 of truth. But what can any imj^artial observer say 
 of Lord Lyndhurst' s career ? It is absolutely im- 
 
 * .][/.'<(•{■! Irnicoiis Ess(i//s. vo]. ii. pp. 105 — 106. 
 
VI.] F OWE It AND PLAGE. 143 
 
 possible, Mr. Bageliot justly observes, that he could 
 have believed in Toryism, such as Toryism ^vas in 
 the second decade of this century, '•' the most 
 stupidj narrow-minded, and suicidal policy whicli 
 even the Tory Party has ever adopted." And yet 
 he chose, deliberately chose, to connect himself 
 with that policy, in 1818, when its evil effects were 
 plainly visible ; yes, and to become its strenuous 
 advocate. But are we to accuse him of being false 
 to his principles ? By no means. We read in As 
 You Like It of a certain knight that " swore b}' 
 his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by 
 his honour the mustard was nought." " Now I'll 
 stand to it," says Touchstone, 'Hhe pancakes were 
 nought and the mustard was good, and yet was 
 not the knight forsworn, swearing by his honour, 
 for he never had any ; or if he had, he had sworn 
 it away before he saw those pancakes and that 
 mustard." The like may be affirmed of Lord 
 Lyndhurst's principles. He did not act contrary to 
 them, for he had none. Mr. Bagehot tells an 
 amusing story of what he said as to the Act bearing 
 his name, which forljids a widower to marry the de- 
 ceased wife's sister. The real object of that enact- 
 ment was to please certain particular people who 
 had married tlieir sisters-in-law, and as it stands to 
 this day, it legalises all antecedent marriages. As 
 it was originally brought in, it legalised subsequent 
 marriages also. People conversant with the clergy 
 and other strict people, represented to Lord Lynd- 
 
U4 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [xh. 
 
 hurst that there woukl be an outcry against tliis" 
 He replied, "Put it the other way, then; forbid 
 the future marriages. I am sure I don't care which 
 way it is." " He wanted," is Mr. Bagehot's 
 comment, ''to serve a temporary purpose, and so 
 he did always. He regarded politics as a game to be 
 played, first for himself, and then for his party." 
 How many men, prominent in English public life 
 during the present century, I ask again, can be 
 instanced, who did not so regard it ? whose action 
 has been determined, not by desire of power 
 and place, but by considerations of right and 
 
 wrong ? 
 
 Can we suppose, for instance, that it was an 
 ethical impulse which led the late Lord Derby to 
 perform his celebrated feat of dishing the Whigs? Or 
 are we to look upon Lord Beaconsfield, engaged in 
 the long and painful process of "educating" the 
 Conservative Party, as a moral teacher ? And what 
 can we say of Mr. Gladstone ? Is it possible, if 
 we judge Mr. Gladstone by ordinary standards, 
 to find the smallest trace of ethical motive in 
 his policy since 1885 ? He appeals to tlie country 
 to give him a majority which shall enable him 
 to outvote Conservatives and Home E-ulers to- 
 gether, and to restore order and safety in Ireland. 
 Failing to obtain such a majority, he coalesces 
 with the Parnellites, and is prepared to hand 
 over Ireland to them, as the price of regaining 
 
vi.] PAETY LEADERS. 145 
 
 power.* Of course we of "the classes" know that 
 Mr. Gladstone must not be judged by ordinary 
 standards. We know that, as Lord Macaulay tes- 
 tified half a century ago, his '' disingenuousness " 
 is "unconscious" : that "he deludes first himself, and 
 then his hearers " : tliat his apparent tergiversations 
 are merely psychological peculiarities. But "the 
 masses " are not psychologists. And when we tell 
 them that Mr. Gladstone follows his conscience, 
 they incline to think that he follows it much as a 
 man follows the horse which he drives. When 
 we assure them that Mr. Gladstone is honourable 
 and virtuous, they inquire what honour and virtue 
 have to do with public life. And certainly if we 
 
 * It may be worth while, here, to recall certain words spoken by 
 
 • \Vv^ Mr. Gladstone at Edinbi;rgh, on the eve of the General Election of 
 
 1885 : — "Let me now suppose — for argmnent's sake I may suppose 
 
 AT * ' it possible — that the Liberal party might be retunied to the coming 
 
 ,>^ / ^" Parliament — that is rather a staggering supposition, but I beg you 
 
 J^ "NJ^"* indulge me for an instant — might be returned to the coming 
 
 ", Parliament in a minority, but in a minority which miglit become a 
 
 lu' ft Wajority by the aid of the Irish vote; and I will suppose that owing 
 
 •T ' si to some cause the present Government has disappeared, and a 
 
 J"/ y j Liberal party was called to deal with this great constitutional 
 
 y \j5 j question of the government of Ireland in a position where it was 
 
 ^V^ J a minority dependent on the Irish vote for converting it into a 
 
 \V)'/ ) majority. Now, gentlemen, I tell you seriously and solemnly, that 
 
 v.^y / though I believe the Liberal party to be honourable, patriotic, and 
 
 j/ / 1 trustworthy, in such a position as that it would not be safe for it to 
 
 / \ enter on the consideration of a measure in respect to which, at the 
 
 ^ ' first step of its progress, it would be in the power of a party coming 
 
 ^j^ J from Ireland to say 'Unless you do this and unless you do that we 
 
 tvill turn you out to-morrow.' "4-Tn«es, 10th November, 1885. 
 
 L 
 
146 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 tliinlv of the elaborate misstatements of facts, the 
 frantic appeals to the worst of popular passions, the 
 scarcely veiled apologies for the basest and most 
 cowardly crimes, which have been such prominent 
 features of recent political oratory in this country, 
 the question is naturally suggested whether ethics 
 have any place at all in politics. 
 
 An English diplomatist, holding a very im- 
 portant position, shall help us to answer that 
 question. On the 9th of November, 1888, Lord 
 Lytton, upon his installation as Rector of Glasgow 
 University, delivered an address " On the morality 
 proper to the conduct of nations, as compared with 
 individuals, in their relations with each other." 
 Lord Lytton, J take it, did not profess to speak as 
 a philosopher. And that renders him peculiarly 
 valuable as a witness for my purpose. He is a 
 brilliant litterateur and an accomplished man of 
 the world. He is therefore a fitting exponent of 
 popular feeling. His object, he told his audience, 
 was to contribute, if possible, toward the discussion 
 of the question, Is morality the same for nations as 
 for individuals ? It is not necessary to follow his 
 extremely discursive argument, which extended 
 through three closely-printed columns of the Times. 
 I will here merely state his conclusions, which are 
 these : that pubHc morals are a branch rather of 
 j^rudence than of morals, properly so called, 
 "because there is no sanction of public morality." 
 
VI.] " TWO SORTS OF JUSTICE:' 147 
 
 " A law wliicli does not coerce, is not a law at 
 all. It is at best a counsel or advice. The same is 
 true of moral rules, when the breach of them is not 
 followed by public ill-will or private remorse." 
 Remarking, in passing, upon the curious signifi- 
 cance of the doctrine, that the morality of an 
 ethical rule lies in the public ill-will or private 
 remorse thereby excited, let me note Lord Lytton's 
 admission that " individuals concerned in the con- 
 duct of public affairs are subject to the same moral 
 duties to each other which regulate the conduct of 
 private affairs. But," he adds, " of the classes of 
 obligations which constitute private morals, only 
 one, namely justice, has a place in public morals at 
 all. And the sort of justice which finds place in 
 public morals is totally different from the justice 
 which relates to individuals ; it consists mainly in 
 moderation and kindly prudence." Such is the 
 guidance which the newly-elected Rector of the 
 University of Glasgow offered to its students on 
 this weighty matter, amid "the loud applause and 
 aves vehement " of his hearers, and — unless my 
 memory is at fault — with the " Made virtute esto " 
 of the newspapers generally. It would be interest- 
 ing to know what Principal Caird, who was in the 
 chair, thought of it. Without, however, speculating 
 on that subject, let us observe that Lord Lytton 
 answers with an unqualified negative the question 
 which he proposes. Morality, he holds, is not the 
 same for nations as for individuals. It has no 
 
 1. 2 
 
148 THE ETHICS UE FOJJTICS. [ch. 
 
 application to nations save in the form of justice. 
 And justice in the public order means something 
 quite different from what it means in private life. 
 Justice — which Aristotle considered to embrace all 
 virtue — means for nations merely " moderation and 
 kindly prudence." It is true that Lord Lytton is 
 speaking primarily of international relations. But 
 f the- principles which he lays down are general, and 
 apply to the public order in all respects. The 
 difference between nations and individuals is, he 
 holds, so great — this is the foundation of his whole 
 argument^that the same rules of morality are 
 inapplicable to both. \ Public morality he considers 
 a branch of prudence. But what does this really 
 mean ? 
 
 What, if we examine it closely, does this pruden- 
 tial rule of right and wrong in politics amount to ? 
 Is it, in the long run, anytliing else than respect for 
 force ? It is the teaching of Hobbes, that right 
 and wrong, justice and injustice, are purely rela- 
 tive ; that these bonds, as he calls them, "have 
 their strength, not from their own nature, but from 
 the fear of evil consequences upon their rupture." 
 Such, too, was the doctrine of the first Napoleon : 
 " On ne pent agir sur les peuples tres civilises, ni 
 par les sentiments genereux, qui se perdent avec la 
 religion et la morale publique, ni par les illusions 
 que les lumieres dissipent ; ils ne sauraient ctre 
 gouvernes que par une autorite dont la force est 
 cvidente et presente." And his practical conclusion 
 
true type oi 
 
 ri,i^ facts "-tha 
 ' ^ * Jeast regard 
 
 VI.] "ESTABLISHED EACTSr 149 
 
 was, ", " AVitli the armies of France at my l)ack, I 
 sliall be always in the riglit." He respected 
 nothing but material force. That, for him, was 
 tlie supreme autliority. The notion of public 
 virtues and of public crimes had no place in his 
 mind. What were called such, were to him merely 
 facts, governed by physical laws, and absolutely 
 void of ethical significance. And here he is the 
 true type of the century. Respect for '' established 
 — that is the favourite phrase — without the 
 d to their moral aspect, is precisely one 
 *]f^ of the most notable signs of the times. Whence 
 I j^J^^ o^^i' public men, in democratic countries — and 
 all countries are becoming democratic — profess to 
 dorive their rules of conduct ? From what is 
 balled public opinion. And what is an ap2:)eal to 
 t ^ \ public opinion but an appeal to force ? In a demo- 
 Y^ y cratic country power is split into a vast number 
 / ^ tV of pieces. The practical result of universal suffrage 
 is tliat the politician who most successfully manipu- 
 lates the machine, gathers into his own hands the 
 greatest number of pieces. The sovereignty of the 
 111 asses— not the sovereignty of the people, which 
 is a very different thing — represents in the public 
 rder exactly the same principle as Csesarism ; the 
 domination of material force, not of the moraHdea. 
 The special kind of force now dominant is tlie 
 force of iiumbers, disguised as public opinion. \Thc 
 political faith of the day is tliat what the numerical 
 /majority — miscalled the people — wills is just; that 
 
 ijt*" 
 
150 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 it is possible to determine what is right and wrong 
 in the public order by counting heads. That is the 
 ultimate principle of public action ever more and 
 more widely accepted, and the practical result of it 
 is, in Plato's phrase, " to make of justice the 
 interest of the stronger." No absolute rule of right 
 and wrong is admitted. All is relative. No 
 homage is paid to social truths and principles, 
 eternal, immutable, paramount, against which the 
 voice of the largest and loudest multitude should be 
 powerless. I think it was Goethe — or was it 
 Heine ? — who represented the first Napoleon as 
 saying to the French nation, " Thou shalt have 
 none other gods but me." That is precisely the 
 claim which is now made on behalf of '' the 
 people." " Political philosophy," the late M. Gam- 
 betta insisted in a famous speech, " demands that 
 the people be considered as the exclusive, the 
 j)erennial source of all j^owers, of all rights. The 
 will of the people must have the last word. All 
 must bow before it." This doctrine, that the ever- 
 shifting will of the masses is the very source and 
 fount of right, of law, of justice, is tlie expression, 
 in the public order, of the philosophy of relativity. 
 And here, as in every other sphere, the effect of 
 that philosophy is to derationalise, to demoralise, 
 to dissolve, and to destroy, 1 do not use these 
 words at random.' It derationalises, for it is fatal : 
 to the belief that reason pervades the universe ; 
 reason means something self-identical and inde- « 
 
VI.] ''THE PEOPLE'' AS DEITY. 151 
 
 pendent. It demoralises, for morality, if not abso- 
 lute, is nothing. It dissolves, for tlio bonds of 
 society are ethical. It destroys, for if those bonds 
 are loosed, fall tlie social system must. Right and 
 wrong the product of ballot boxes ! The infalli- 
 bility of public opinion ! "Vox populi, Vox Dei ! " 
 What theses! ''To worship force," Dr. Arnold 
 well observed, " is devil-worship." And the brute 
 force of numbers, blinded by ignorance and mad- 
 dened by passion — surely it is a very poor kind of 
 devil. Is any lower form of idolatry conceiv- 
 able ? I, for my part, say with Quinet : " M'age- 
 nouiller devant celui qui est a deux genoux devant 
 toute force triomphante ! Hamper devant cette 
 bete rampante aux milliards de pieds ! Ce n'est 
 pas la ma foi. Que ferai-je de ce dieu-la? 
 le curieux fetiche ! Je Fai vu de trop pres." No. 
 If I am to have a god at all, it must be a verj^ 
 different sort of deity from that. If I am to hold 
 any conceptions of right and wrong, they must come 
 to me from quite another source. I will endeavour 
 to indicate a more excellent way. 
 
 The whole question turns upon this : Is there an 
 absolute standard of right and wrong ruling 
 throughout the universe ? I have sought to show, 
 in an earlier portion of this work, that there is. 
 The immutably true in morals is that which is in 
 harmony with ^he faculties proper to man, tlie 
 
') 
 
 152 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 faculties Avliicli he has in common with the lower 
 animals being held in subjection. Hence the old 
 Stoic formula, "to live according to reason " — and 
 the world is not likely to get beyond it — to let 
 reason, not passion, rule our lives. And it applies 
 to every department of human life, to every sphere 
 ^ of human activity, to the aggregate of men which 
 we call a nation, as to the individual persons con- 
 stituting that aggregate. \ Civilisation is first and 
 Jbefore all things ethical. Not literature, not art, 
 r not science, not commerce and manufactures, not 
 ^ i/5^ \the soldier and the policeman, but morality , is its 
 >• ' foundation. \ Truth and right are the very breath 
 
 of life to states, as to individual men. " The moral 
 laws of nature " are the moral laws of nations too. 
 Law is the principle of obligation. What is the 
 primordial law ? What is the universal principle 
 of obligation ? \ I say it is to follow that which 
 reason, speaking through conscience, dictates as 
 right.' This is the one true rule of public as of 
 private life. Let us consider it a little. 
 
 Why and how far ought I to obey the laws of the 
 civil society, the nation, of which I am a member ? 
 ^ To answer this question we must ask another. 
 f V-' What is the true end of civil society ? We cannot 
 reply better than in the words of Aristotle: \" Not 
 merely existence, but worthy existence, is the end 
 of civil society." \ Worthy or noble existence. An 
 existence which permits each man to be as fully 
 himself as possible, or, in Spinoza's words, to de- 
 
VI.] THE TRUE SOCIAL THEORY. 153 
 
 vclop in security soul and body and to make free 
 use of bis reason. A man is a person, not a tbinij^* 
 " Tbe sacred distinction between person and thing," 
 Coleridge well observes, " is tb.e light and life of all 
 law, human and divine." Here, as everywhere else, 
 we are tlirown back upon the elemental fact of 
 liuman personality, which is the primordial source 
 of the rights realised in civil polity. The office of 
 positive law is to guard those rights. It is the rule 
 of reciprocal liberty, the tutor of the natural rights 
 of the individual which are the rule of his liberty, 
 The idea of personality is limited by" the idea of 
 solidarity. In the true social theory these ideas are 
 reconciled, not abolished. But as Professor Green 
 excellently says, "all rights are relative to moral ends 
 or duties." The claim or right of the individual to 
 have certain powers secured to him by society, and 
 the counter claim of society to exercise certain 
 powers over individuals, alike rest on the fact that 
 these powers are necessary to the fulfilment of 
 man's vocation as a moral being, to an effective 
 self-devotion to the work of developing the perfect 
 character in himself and others. Therefore, it is 
 not too much to assert that j^olitics ought to bo con- 
 ceived of as a branch of ethics.i " The discussion 
 of virtue is the province of political science," writes 
 the greatest master of that science the world has 
 ever seen. The end of the social organism, like the 
 end of the individual organism, is freedom. lAnd 
 the only instrument of freedom is the moral law. 
 
■■\ ^154 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 
 Kant nmintained the absolute identity of the two 
 ernis, liberty and morality ; and we may accept 
 tliat doctrine in the widest sense. Justice should 
 rule alike in the actions of the individual man, and 
 of the aoffri'esrate of individual men which we call a 
 nation. The public conscience should dominate 
 customs, legislation, diplomacy, just as the personal 
 conscience should dominate the thoughts, words, 
 and works of every man. Face Lord Lytton, there 
 are not two kinds of justicB ; there is only one kind. 
 Nor is justice in the public order merely "moderation 
 and kindly prudence." jThere is one law of Right 
 rulino' throug-hout the universe, absolute, eternal, 
 unchangeable.! In obedience to it alone is liberty. 
 To resist it is to fight against the nature of things, 
 and that is certain defeat and captivity. " The sen- 
 sual and the dark rebel in vain ; slaves by their own 
 compulsion." 
 
 Here, then, is the true ground wliy the law^s of 
 the civil society in which I live have a riglitfid 
 claim on my obedience. The ideal of the State 
 is that it should be ' ' the passionless expression 
 of general riirht." And if this is so, the limit of 
 the claim of the State to my obedience is clear also. 
 Tlie organ of the moral law, speaking to me directly 
 and categorically, is conscience. The first principle 
 of a man's ethical life is "to reverence his conscience 
 as his kinf>-." If the law formulated by the com- 
 
VI.] REASON AND LAW. 155 
 
 munity conflicts with the law witliin, it must be 
 disobeyed, except indeed when the maxim ^' De 
 minimis non curat lex," applies. For that law 
 which is not guided by reason, is, as Aquinas ex- 
 presses it, " rather an iniquity than a law." Law in/f ^^^ 
 ethics — in physics the word has another meaning — (j 
 prescribes what ought to be done. Now there is . 
 only one quciht. Speaking generally, it may be 
 said that a bad law should be obeyed, unless it con- 
 flicts with those dictates of conscience which a man 
 must follow under pain of grievous injury to his 
 ethical life. It is " great harm to disobey, seeing 
 obedience is the bond of rule ; " the condition of the 
 existence of the social organism. But the end of 
 that organism is the moral perfection of the indi- 
 vidual. And no one is bound to obey a law which 
 involves the sacrifice of his moral perfection. 
 *' AYh ether it be better in the sight of God to 
 hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye," 
 said St. Peter and St. John to the rulers of the 
 people who commanded them ''not to speak or 
 teach at all in the name of Jesus." And so Anti- 
 gone, in the noblest utterance, perhaps, of Greek 
 tragedy, when confronted with Kreon for disobey- 
 ing his decree : 
 
 " It was not Zeus who heralded these words, 
 Nor Justice, helpmeet of the Gods below. 
 'Twas they who ratified those other laws, 
 And ?et their record in the human heart. 
 Nor do I deem ihy heraldings so mighty, 
 That thnu, a mortal man, couldst trample on 
 
15G THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. \cii. 
 
 The unwritten and nnclianging laws of heaven. 
 /' They are not of to-day, or yesterday, 
 
 'f But ever live, and no one knows their birtli-tide, 
 
 These for the dread of any human anger, 
 I was not minded to annul and so 
 Incur the punishment that heaven exacts."* 
 
 I say, tlien, that at the root of the laws of a 
 nation lies conscience. They are judgments of 
 right and wrong. They are essentially derivative. 
 They owe their majesty, their life, to the eternal 
 truths of morals, of which they are the transient 
 settings. They are, as Plato, taught, adaptations 
 to social wants of that Universal Reason, which is 
 the Supreme Rule of Ethics : supreme over nations, 
 as over the individuals of whom nations arc com- 
 posed : and no more to be violated by nations than 
 by individuals without incurring the retribution 
 which is " the other half of crime"; its natural 
 and necessary complement. St. Paul, upon a 
 certain memorable occasion, reasoned before the 
 trembling Roman governor of " rigliteousness, 
 temperance — and judgment to come." The judg- 
 ment does come. " Rarely," sings the Latin 
 poet, " has punishment lost siglit of the criminal, 
 slow though her foot be." Rarely ? Never. Dark 
 as are the ways of that Eternal Justice which rules 
 the world, we can see enough of them to be sure of 
 that. And the longer the penalty is deferred, tJic 
 
 * Antigone, v. 448-458. I need hardly observe how inadequately 
 the power and beauty of the original are represented by this trans- 
 lation of Dr. Donaldson's, excellent as it is. 
 
Yi.] OMNES VLE EJUS JUDICIA. 157 
 
 worse for the people which has to pay it ; for it 
 accumulates at compound interest. Examples ? 
 Why history is full of them. Consider Spain, once 
 the first of Christian nations, and now the lowest. 
 Why ? Look at the Spanish Inquisition, said Mon- 
 talembertj and you have the answer. For more 
 than three centuries the Inquisition had been the 
 scourge of Spain, and at the same time the object 
 of the just horror of the Christian world — of 
 France, of Belgium, and of Catholic Germany, no 
 less than of all Protestant nations. The soul of 
 Spain was petrified in the bloody hands of Philip II. ; 
 autos clafe made an end of it. Vengeance had not 
 long to wait. One hundred years after the acces- 
 sion of Charles V., the Duke d'Olivarez, first 
 minister and chief favourite of Philip IV., wrote to 
 the Infant Cardinal who governed Belgium on be- 
 half of Spain : " My Lord, there are no more men. 
 There are really no more. We have sought every- 
 where and have found none." No more men! The 
 manhood of this noble people extinct ! Or look at 
 France, Avith its prevailing atheism decreeing injus- 
 tice as a law ; its domestic virtue sapped by its 
 popular litei'ature of lubricity ; its high places the 
 prey of the most ignoble demagogues ; all classes 
 in antagonism ; all social bands loosened ; popular 
 passions — "passions de la cervelle et de I'estomac " — 
 the only effective power left. That is the practical 
 consequence of the substitution of the gospel of 
 Jean-Jacques Rousseau for the gospel of Jesus 
 
158 THE ETHICS OF POLITICS. [ch. 
 
 Christ ; of the elevation of concupiscence — aptly 
 symbolised by the Goddess of Reason— into the 
 l^laco of conscience ; of the " dumb-buzzard idol " 
 Man in the abstract, and his sophistical "rights," 
 into the place of the living God and the duties 
 binding us to Him. Or England; alas! can any 
 man whose moral sense is not hopelessly blunted, 
 doubt that she will have to pay, to the uttermost 
 farthing, the penalty of her centuries of tyrannical 
 oppression and remorseless cruelty in Ireland ? 
 Has not the reckonino; alreadv beffun ? And who 
 can predict where it will end ? Yes. Well did our 
 Elizabethan poet write : 
 
 " Stern and imperious I^eraesis ! 
 Daughter of Justice most severe, 
 Tliou art the world's great arbitress, 
 And queen of causes reigning here, 
 Whose swift, sure iiand is ever near." 
 
 So much must suffice on this great topic. To 
 many, I fear, my words will seem more midsummer 
 madness. I am profoundly convinced that unless 
 pliilosophy is a dream, and history a lie, they are the 
 words of truth and soberness. And, I venture to 
 say, the more they are pondered by men of good 
 will, the better for them and for the age in which 
 we live. It was well observed by one of tliese, the 
 late Frederick Denison Maurice: ''The moralist 
 never maintains his own position so well as when 
 he asserts the highest dignity for tlic politician. 
 The separation between the two has been an intoler- 
 able mischief." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ETHICS OE JOUHNALISM. 
 
 Half a century ago a brilliant French writer, 
 now perliaps as much underrated as then over- 
 valued, warned the world : " Europe is hastening 
 toward Democracy ; the symptoms of the social 
 transformation abound ; the ancient society is 
 perishing with the social order out of which it has 
 come." Time has amply justified these words of 
 Chateaubriand. Democracy is the dominant fact of 
 modern civilisation, all-invading, all-penetrating, 
 remaking the nations by equality of rights and the 
 power of numbers. There are, of course, different 
 types of Democracy, * the difference being due, 
 chiefly, to national temperament and national 
 history. But whatever the varieties of its form, it 
 everywhere means the advent of the masses to 
 j^olitical power. To the decision of the numerical 
 majority is the ultimate appeal, whether that appeal 
 be made directly, by 'plebiscite or referendum^ or 
 indirectly, by means of a general election. Demos 
 is king. How will he rule ? " Power which 
 
 * I luivc treated tin's <;ubject at some length in cliai). vi. of 
 A Century of lierohition. 
 
IGO THE ETHICS OF J0UBNALI8M. [ch. 
 
 wisdom does not guide, falls, overweighted, in ruin 
 to the ground," the Roman poet warns us — "Vis 
 consili expers mole ruit sua." Who shall teach the 
 sovereign people in the way of wisdom ? Who shall 
 lead it in right paths ? 
 
 It is hardly necessary to enlarge upon the man)^- 
 headed ruler's need of such teaching, such leading. 
 What can the average voter, his life probably 
 spent in manual toil, know, by his own research 
 and meditation, concerning the vast social and 
 political questions which he is called to decide ? 
 "Most men," Napoleon judged, ''are grown-up 
 children." " One or two rules," says Locke, "upon 
 which their conclusions depend, in most men have 
 governed all their thoughts. Take these away 
 from them, and their understanding is completely 
 at a nonplus." But manifestly those rules do not 
 extend to complicated and far-reaching issues of 
 legislation and diplomacy. Let us cheerfully 
 admit that the majority of men apply a fair amount 
 of good sense and right motive to the business of 
 the world ; nay, that mankind, as a whole, makes 
 proof of virtues over and above those " essential 
 for digesting victuals," and merits a certain amount 
 of admiration ; let us, if y(ni like, agree with Mr. 
 Gladstone — although the phrase is redolent of clap- 
 trap—that "trust of tlie people, tempered by 
 prudence," is the principle which should guide the 
 statesman. Still it remains that the appeal to the 
 masses on grave political questions is, and must be, 
 
\n.]THE TEACHiJIiS OF^'TUE SO VEREIGNFEOFLEr 16 1 
 
 an appeal to "the yea and no of general ignorance." 
 The science of politics, to say the least, is as 
 difficult a branch of learning as the science of 
 anatomy. It demands special study, and the 
 mental discipline and leisure necessary for special 
 study. There is no problem of internal administra- 
 tion, of foreign policy, which can be even so much 
 as intelligently appreciated without a considerable 
 knowledge of history and political philosophy. It 
 is impossible for the numerical majority, in any 
 country, to comprehend, by their own wit and labour, 
 the elements of those problems. They are like that 
 eunuch of great authoiity under Candace, Queen of 
 the Ethiopians, whom Philip the Deacon heard read 
 in his chariot the Prophet Isaias, and asked, " Un- 
 derstandest thou what thou readest ? " and he said, 
 " How can I, except some man should guide me ? " 
 How indeed ! But who shall guide the sovereign 
 people to understand matters of State, beside which 
 even the utterances of the evangelical prophet are 
 plain and simple ? 
 
 The newsj^aper press undertakes that office. Our 
 journals are the guides, philoso2:)liers, and friends 
 of the masses, teaching them what they supj^ose 
 themselves to think on well-nigh all subjects. For 
 the great majority of men, I say, their newspapers 
 — they seldom read anything else — are the direct 
 sources of those floating opinions which have drifted 
 into their minds, whereby they judge all social and 
 political problems. Our journalists have succeeded 
 
 M 
 
162 THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM. [ch. 
 
 to an important portion of the functions wliich in 
 past days were discharged by the clergy. Now, 
 the preacher is generally required to restrict his 
 teaching to matters of religion. The pulpit has 
 been obliged to resign to the press the instruction 
 of the people in secular affairs. Mr. Cariyle well puts 
 it : *' The true Church of England, at this moment, 
 lies in the Editors of its Newspapers. These preach 
 to the people daily, weekly ; admonishing kings 
 themselves, advising peace or war with an authority 
 which only the first Reformers, and a long-past 
 class of Popes were possessed of ; inflicting moral 
 censure, imparting moral encouragement, in all 
 ways diligently administering the Discipline of the 
 Church." * A weighty function, truly, and of the 
 utmost moment to the interests of society ; the 
 august function which in the old Jewish theocracy 
 was performed by the prophets. Let us consider 
 it a little from an ethical point of view. What 
 are the rights and duties appertaining to it ? 
 
 The rights of the journalist may be shortly 
 summed up in the familiar phrase, "the liberty 
 of the press." He may properly claim full free- 
 tlom — " as large a charter as the wind." '' By 
 liberty of the press," said Mr. Justice Fitzgerald, 
 " I mean complete freedom to write and publish, 
 without censorship and without restriction, save 
 
 * MisceUdiiics, vol. li. p. '\\4. 
 
vii.] TEE EIGHTS OF THE JOUBNALIST. 163 
 
 such as is absolutely necessary for tlie preservation 
 of society." Censorship is, indeed, as antiquated 
 as mail-armour. That " libert}^ to know, to utter 
 and to argue freely, accordiiifi' to conscience," 
 which Milton prized " above all liberties," is an 
 assured conquest of the modern mind ; its only 
 restriction, as Mr. Justice Fitzgerald indicates, 
 " such as is absolutely necessary for the preserva- 
 tion of society." And to that restriction who 
 can take exception ? Is it possible rationally to 
 claim for every man a liberty of printing every- 
 thimj that he likes, not merely " according to con- 
 science," but according to passion — ever^^thing, 
 however obscene, seditious, libellous ? That is the 
 liberty to which the late Pope assigned a place in 
 his Syllabus Erroriim — List or Cata]ogue of 
 Errors; that "plena potestas omnibus attributa 
 quaslibet opiniones cogitatiouesque palam publice- 
 que manifestandi " — the liberty claimed for every 
 one to declare openly and publicly any opinions 
 and thoughts whatever. Cardinal Newman has 
 well observed that it seems a light epithet to 
 call such a doctrine a d ellr amentum ; that "of all 
 conceivable absurdities it is the wildest and most 
 stupid." " Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique 
 lines." Liberty of the press, like all liberties, is 
 grounded in that i acuity of reason whence springs 
 free agency. It is essentially ethical. Law is the 
 inseparable condition of its right use. It is perhaps 
 necessary to insist upon this. For to many well- 
 
 M 2 
 
1(34 THJjJ ETHICS OF JOUliNALISM. [ch. 
 
 meaning people the printing press is a sort of 
 fetich. Tlie printing press is really no more than 
 an admirable mechanical invention for propagating 
 speech and writing. The fact that a man employs 
 it, does not in the least relieve him from the duties 
 and responsibilities attending the connnunication 
 of thought. On the contrary, the vast reverberation 
 which he thus obtains, makes those duties and re- 
 sponsibilities all the more onerous. The journalist 
 is just as much under the moral law in the exercise 
 of his profession, as in the most personal actions of 
 private life. Surely so much is clear. The liberty 
 of the press, like all liberty, means action within 
 the great principles of ethics, not emancipation 
 from them. 
 
 Sucli is the true conception of the liberty of the 
 press, well reckoned by Junius " the palladium of all 
 civil, political, and religious rights," the chief bul- 
 wark of all liberty. Journalism should be the prin- 
 cipal instrument of j^ublicit}^, that greatest terror to 
 evil-doers ; the most energetic mode of resistance to 
 tyranny, because its protest is perpetual ; the most 
 noble, because its force lies in the moral conscious« 
 ness of men ; and therefoi-e the most effective 
 auxiliary of truth and justice. It would be easy 
 to accumulate the words of the wise in this sense. 
 But it is hardly necessary. The matter is too plain. 
 There is, howev-er, a fine j^assage in a great speech 
 made by an illustrious advocate, u2:)on a memorable 
 occasion, which admirably states the true basis of 
 
VII.] THE DUTY OF THE JOUENALIST. 165 
 
 the liberty of tlie ^^I'^s-'^j ^nd wliicli, for a special 
 reason, I shall cite. 
 
 " Every man," said Erskine in liis argument at the trial of 
 Paine, "not intending to mislead, but seeking to enlighten 
 others with what his own reason and conscience, however 
 erroneously, have dictated to him as truth, may address himself 
 to the universal intelligence of a whole nation, either upon the 
 subject of governments in general, or upon that of his own 
 individual country. He may analyse the principles of its 
 constitution, point out its errors and defects, examine and 
 publish its corruptions, warn his fellow-citizens against their 
 ruinous consequences, and exert his whole faculties in pointing 
 out the most advantageous changes in establishments which he 
 considers to be radically defective or sliding from their object 
 by abuse. All this every subject of this country has a right to 
 do, if he contemplates only what he thinks would be for its 
 advantage, and but seeks to change the public mind by the 
 conviction which flows from reasonings dictated by conscience." 
 
 This, then, is the liberty which the journalist 
 may rightly claim : liberty to state facts, liberty 
 to argue u2)on them, liberty to denounce abuses, 
 liberty to advocate reforms. This is his right. 
 AVhat is the corresponding duty ? It is clearly 
 indicated in Lord Erskine's words: "Every man 
 seeking to enlighten otliers with what his own 
 reason and conscience have dictated to him as 
 truth." What the journalist owes to his readers 
 is truth. Veracity is the very law of his action. 
 Milton, in his noble Speech for the Liberty of Un- 
 licensed IPrintijig, observes : " When a man writes 
 to the world, he summons up all his reason and 
 deliberation to assist him ; he searches, meditates, is 
 industrious, and likely consults and confers with his 
 
166 TEE E TRIGS OF J0UB.NALI8M. [ch. 
 
 judicious friends ; after all which done, he takes him- 
 self to be informed in what he writes as well as any 
 that wrote before him." Those who ''write to the 
 world " in the newspapers cannot, indeed, by any 
 possibility, proceed after this leisurely fashion. 
 The work of the journalist is usually done in hot 
 haste, and is essentially ephemeral. I remember 
 not long ago complimenting a young Oxford man 
 upon a very brilliant leader in one of the London 
 dail}^ papers. He modestly acknowledged my eu- 
 logy of his article, and added plaintively, " But to 
 think that twenty-four hours is its term of life ! " 
 Twenty-four hours! I thought; you flatter yourself. 
 It will be forgotten in a quarter of that time. '' Here 
 lies one whose name was writ in water," was the 
 epitaph which poor Keats commanded for his tomb. 
 He was wrong. ''iEre perennius" would have 
 been more appropriate. But of the journalist it 
 may with truth be said that he writes in water. 
 However judicious, however eloquent, however 
 piquant his composition, it is at once swallowed up 
 by envious oblivion. It produces its impression 
 instantaneously. It is like a note of music, heard 
 and gone forever. And the successful journalist 
 is he who, consciously or unconsciously, realises 
 this. To avail himself adroitly of the passing 
 moment is the secret of his trade. Yes, he writes 
 in water. Acute observation, literary skill, learning, 
 art, science, virtue avail him not. His creation 
 fades away suddenly like the grass. In the morning 
 
VII.] TEE JOUBNALIST IN FACT. 167 
 
 it is green and groweth up. In the evening it is 
 cut down, dried up, and withered. Such are the 
 conditions under which his work is done. It is 
 extemporaneous. It cannot, in the great majority 
 of cases, be the result of prolonged examination of 
 the special question with which it deals. But it 
 may, at all events, be honest. Accurately to state 
 the facts, fairly to comment upon them, correctly 
 to sum them up, and candidly to indicate the con- 
 clusions to which they point — such, surely, is the 
 ethical obligation laid upon the newspaper pub- 
 licist. The masses who look to him for guidance 
 have a right to expect so much from him. " Man 
 consists in truth," says Novalis. The journalist, 
 of all men, should consist in truth. 
 
 This, then, is the journalist's vocation in ideal. 
 What is it in fact ? I wonder to how many news- 
 paper writers it ever so much as occurs that they 
 are morally responsible for what they write ? Cer- 
 tainly there are many who, however sensitive to the 
 obligations of veracity in the private relations of 
 life, do not ajjparently suspect that it continues to 
 claim their allegiance when they exercise their pro- 
 fession. I suppose I should not greatly err if I 
 said that truth is, as a rule, the last thing which 
 the average journalist tliinks about, as he girds 
 himself up to the delivery of his daily burden. It 
 is a dictum of Cud\yorth's, " Truth is the most 
 
168 THE ETHinS OF JOURNALISM. [ch. 
 
 unbending and iincompliable, the most firm and 
 adamantine thing in the workl." The mere adjec- 
 tives would, in most cases, suffice to make the able 
 editor, or the nimble leader-writer, drop his pen. 
 He prefers the teaching of Mr. Herbert Spencer, 
 that "What we call truth is simply the correspond- 
 ence of subjective to objective relations : " * and 
 he betters the instruction. The manipulation of 
 relations is the business of his life. It is merely 
 with " relative realities " that he is concerned ; and 
 the relative is flexible, pliable, shifting, and dis- 
 solvent. I confess the more I see of the London 
 journals, which I suppose will compaie favourably 
 with any other, the more clearly does it seem to me 
 that their writers are, for the most part, dominated 
 — consciously or unconsciously — by the philosophy 
 of Balzac's Vautrin : " There are no such things 
 as principles, there are only events ; there are no 
 such things as laws, there are only circumstances. 
 A Avise man embraces events and circumstances to 
 shape them to his own ends." Such arc, in most 
 cases, the ethics of journalism. I say " in most 
 cases." That it is not always so I cheerfully admit. 
 There are British journalists — it is my privilege to 
 count such among my own friends — whose loyalty 
 to principle is unquestionable, whose veracity is 
 unimpeachable, whose motives, whether we agree 
 with their views or not, are beyond suspicion. 
 Yes, they exist, unsubmerged in that bad element ; 
 
 * Fir.'it Princi2')les, § 25. 
 
VII.] ''MAGNIFICENT MENDACITY." 169 
 
 ''rai'i nantes in gurgltc vasto." All honour to 
 those strong swimmers. Of American journalism 
 I know little. But the testimony which reaches 
 me reo-ardino- it is not reassurino;. Thus, a few 
 years ago, I find a reverend orator of note de- 
 claring to a church congress in Boston : " The easy 
 flow of the magnificent mendacity of the average 
 partisan editor in America makes me ashamed every 
 time I open a newspaper. There is nothing that 
 can equal it, in any way, in its almost admirable 
 capacit}' for downright lying." The amusing author 
 known as Max O'Rell writes : ''American journal- 
 ism is above all sensational journalism. If the facts 
 reported are exact, so much the better for the paper ; 
 if not, so much the worse for the facts. Beyond 
 the date few statements are reliable. But the 
 papers are always lively reading." I cannot, my- 
 self, undertake to say how far this witness is true. 
 Of the journalism of continental Europe I can 
 sjDcak with more knowledge. And concerning it 
 assuredly even worse must be said. Consider, for 
 example, the organs of what is called in France 
 "free thought" — la Ubre pensee. Why it is so 
 called I do not know, for instead of thought I find 
 only shibboleths and sophisms; instead of freedom, 
 bondage to the basest passions. The attacks on 
 religion and morals which fill the columns of these 
 newspapers, and apparently supply their raison 
 cVdtre, are usually made with insults, rather than 
 with anything which can even by courtesy be 
 
170 THE ETHICS OF J0UBNALI8M. [ch. 
 
 termed ar^'uments. *' Calomniez et il en restera 
 toiijoiirs quelque chose," seems to be the law of 
 their working. And what shall we say of the so- 
 called religious press ? I take leave to say that 
 more harm to religion has been done by a certain 
 section of it than by its opponents. I sj^eak of 
 that species of journalism of which the late M. 
 Louis Veuillot was the supreme type in his time. 
 I make no question of the entire goodness of that 
 pungent writer's motives. I am quite sure of the 
 superlative badness of his methods. The wisdom 
 that is from above, a high authority tells us, is 
 first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be 
 entreated, full of mercy and good fruits. The 
 wisdom Avhich guided M. Louis Veuillot's pen was 
 first foul, then truculent, blatant, and insolent, full 
 of malignity and evil fruits, and seems to have come 
 from the gutters of Paris. His articles were a tissue 
 of maledictions and anathemas, resembling the curse 
 of Ernulphus ; a never-ceasing rain of insult upon 
 just and unjust ; upon the noblest and best of his 
 own communion — men like Montalembert and 
 Falloux, Dupanloup and Lacordaire, Ozanam and 
 Gratry, — no less than upon Garibaldians and Com- 
 munists. His reckless indifference to truth bordered 
 on the sublime. I know of no more complete ex- 
 ample than that which his journal presented, of the 
 divorce between religion and ethics. He sowed the 
 wind, and Catholics in France have reaped the wliirl- 
 wind, abundantly. 
 
VII.] THE COBBUFTION OF TEE INTELLECT. 171 
 
 An eminent French writer lias observed that the 
 two most distinctive "notes" of our great cities are 
 tlie corruption of the flesh and the corruption of the 
 intellect. Facts too amply bear out his judgment. 
 The vastness of such places as London, Paris, 
 Berlin, New York affords a cloak, which is wanting 
 in the greater number of provincial towns, for tlie 
 deliberate and habitual infraction of those precepts 
 of the moral law that have reference to the virtue of 
 purity. Systematic, organised unchastity is espe- 
 cially the sin of great cities. And what this vice is 
 in its own sphere, the vice of mendacity is in 
 another range, as striking at the very root of intel- 
 lectual soundness, as being, in the words of the 
 Council of Trent, ''a disease of the mind, generally 
 incurable." Now it cannot be doubted that journal- 
 ism is conducted under conditions which tend to 
 nourish this vice. The newspaper is, by its very 
 nature, an ephemeral production, read for an hour 
 and then cast aside, and probably never looked at 
 again. Its assertions have done their work before 
 an opportunity of correcting them is presented. 
 Besides, it rests with editors whether contradic- 
 tions of false and misleading allegations, which their 
 journals may contain, shall appear in them or not. 
 And it is manifest to all men that the considerations 
 by which this question is determined are, in a vast 
 majority of instances, wholly unethical. Again, 
 the conditions under wliicli tlie newspaper publicist 
 works are extremely unfavourable to the cultivation 
 
172 THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM, [ch. 
 
 of tlie virtue of veracity. He is called upon 
 suddenly to expound views which shall strike his 
 readers as profound, well-considered, or original, 
 about subjects of which, very likely, he knows 
 nothing truly or exactly. Or he is summoned to 
 essay the defence of "principles" to which he is 
 wholly indifferent. Or he is bidden to attack some 
 institution, some interest, some work, which what- 
 ever there may be of good left in him confesses to 
 be worthy of respect and support. A very few 
 years' practice in a calling of this kind is a])t to 
 render him as indifferent to the goal Avhither liis 
 pen conducts him, as is a cab-horse to the destina- 
 tion whither the driver's "fare" is conveyed. 
 And the worst of it is that, in time, he comes to 
 glory in his shame. Aristotle, in the Nicomachean 
 Ethics, distinguishes between two kinds of liars ; 
 there is " the liar who loves a lie for its own sake," 
 and "the liar who lies to win reputation or to make 
 money." But many a journalist who, at first, belongs 
 to the latter of these classes, and is perhaps a 
 little ashamed, for a while, at finding himself 
 there, passes pretty swiftly into the former. Thus 
 does he anticij^ate, in this life, the doom which 
 Dante ascribes to the damned ; he is in the miser- 
 able estate of those " genti dolorose " who have lost 
 " il ben del intcUetto." And then, by a fatal and 
 necessary law, his chief object, next to the provi- 
 sion of the means of " agreeable feeling " for him- 
 self, is to bring down as many as j^ossiblc to his 
 
[vii. THE iJE.ETlIlCltSING OF I'UBLW LIFE. 173 
 
 own level. Nor does he find any surer way of 
 effecting this, than by the persistent denial of those 
 moral excellences which he lias ceased to strive 
 after, or even to venerate. Is a man the o])ject of 
 reverence and admiration, for patriotism, philan- 
 thropy, piety ? Your newspaper censors, with due 
 protestations of hatred of hypocrisy, will strip off 
 the veneer which imposes on the unsuspicious ; will 
 show their readers that these pretended virtues are 
 a mere cloak for some base or sordid end ; will 
 demonstrate conclusively that " old Cato is as great 
 a rogue as you." And their efforts are only too 
 successful. I think I may truly say that the news- 
 j)aper press, during the last quarter of a century, 
 has done more than anything else to de-ethicise 
 public life ; to lay the axe to the root of duty, self- 
 devotion, self-sacrifice, the elements of the moral 
 greatness of a nation, which is its true greatness. 
 Such is the practical working of the philosophy of 
 relativity in the sphere of journalism. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF PEOPERTY. 
 
 Much has been written lately on capital and labour ; 
 on the great question between "the Haves" and 
 "the Have-nots," wliich underlies all socicJ and 
 political issues. In this chapter I shall approach 
 that question from a point of view usually lost 
 sight of, or ignored. A considerable number of 
 contributions to its discussion lies before me, as 
 I write ; publications, in various languages, and 
 of all sorts and kinds : from the folio to the fly- 
 sheet ; from the reasoned treatise to the rhetorical 
 tract. As I turn them over, I find invocations 
 of selfishness and of sentiment ; pleas on behalf 
 of civilisation and on belialf of our common hu- 
 manity ; appeals to acts of the legislature and to 
 the teachings of political econony. To all the 
 considerations thus uro-ed, I cheerfully allow^ due 
 weight. Both selfishness and sentiment nmst be 
 reckoned with, as permanent factors in our nature. 
 True it is that doctrines incompatible with the 
 fair order of civilised life are self-condemned. 
 
vm.] THE TUUE ClilTElUON. 175 
 
 As true is it, tliat the common good of all 
 mankind is an end which we are ever bound 
 to keep in view. " Some reverence for the laws 
 ourselves have made " is an essential condition of 
 the political freedom Avliich we all prize so higldy. 
 Political economy cannot be put aside with a Car- 
 lylean anathema as "the dismal science," although 
 perhaps more sad nonsense has been talked about 
 it, during the present century, than about any 
 other subject, with the possible exception of sani- 
 tation. But none of these things goes to the 
 root of the matter. The first fact about man, as 
 we have learnt from Aristotle, is that he is a 
 moral being, having perception of right and 
 wrong, justice and injustice. " The law of con- 
 science," echoes the great English philosopher of 
 the last century, "is the law which Ave are born 
 under." The moral law is the rule of economics, 
 the life of legislation, the tutor of philanthropy, the 
 foundation of civilisation, the discipline of senti- 
 ment, and the curb of selfishness. These are not 
 the flourishes of rhetoric. They are the words of 
 truth and soberness. The moral law, as I claim 
 to have shown in previous chajDters, is Supreme 
 Eeason ruling over all intelligent existence through- 
 out the universe, either by its mandates or by its 
 penalties ; sovereign over society, as over the in- 
 dividuals of whom society is composed ; to obey it, 
 the great good of nations as of men ; to violate it, 
 the chief evil. If the moral law is this — and if it 
 
17G THJ^ ETHICS OF FlWl'BUTY. [ch. 
 
 is not this, it is nothing — to it, in the last instance, 
 must the appeal be made, in the great controversy 
 concerning property now agitating the world. Why 
 not appeal to it in the first instance ? 
 
 As a matter of fact, the disputants on this mo- 
 mentous question very seldom do so appeal, either 
 primarily or ultimately. 
 
 " Vom Eeclite, das mit uns geborcn ist, 
 Vom dem, ist, leider ! nie die Frnge.'' 
 
 I doubt much whether, in the mass of printed 
 matter concerning it, which I have now before me, 
 there is any attempt to discuss it, seriously, as an 
 ethical question. It is truly observed by Mazzini, 
 " The merely analytic and negative philosophy 
 of the last century has instilled materialism into 
 our daily practical life, into our habits of thought, 
 our methods of viewing all human things. God 
 is not in the heart of the century." Practical 
 atheism is quite compatible witli a sincere profession 
 of Christianity. And there is no more significant 
 manifestation of it than the widely sj^read dis- 
 belief in the eternal difference between moral good 
 and moral evil ; in the existence of a nature of 
 things Avhich is ethical, and from which rights and 
 duties spring ; and in the power of human reason 
 to ascertain and formulate those rights and those 
 duties. Such appears, indeed, to me, the worst 
 kind of atheism ; for it means not the rejection 
 of this or that fornnda, in which tlie theistic idea 
 has found expression, necessarily imperfect, but 
 
nn 
 
 viii.] THE TRUE STARTING POINT. 17 
 
 tlic non-recognition of tlio moral law in winch the 
 thcistic idea is rooted; which necessarily leads up 
 to the Divine concept ; wliicli finds in God and 
 immortality its final end. and its crown. I will 
 take an illustration of what I am saying from 
 Professor Jevons' well-known work, The State in 
 Relation to Lahour. "The first step," the professor 
 postulates, "must be to rid our minds of the idea 
 that there are any such things in social matters 
 as abstract rights." I do not hesitate to affirm, on 
 the contrary, that the first step is clearly to appre- 
 hend that man's natural rights exist ; and that the 
 second is to discern clearly what those rights are 
 and how they are conditioned ; to which I may 
 add, tliat the third step is to remember that political 
 science deals with the living, the complex, the con- 
 tingent ; that its work is not to play with abstrac- 
 tions, nor to balance probabilities. Let me apply 
 these rules to the topic before us — the Ethics of 
 Property. 
 
 The first question, then, is whether there is such 
 a thing as a ''natural right" to private property. 
 Now the word " nature " may mean either that 
 which is, or that which ought to be. Taking it 
 in the first of these senses, we must maintain with 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer, that a desire for property is 
 one of the elements of man's nature. Nay, we may 
 observe the germs of it in animals inferior to man 
 
 N 
 
178 TKiJ ETHICS OF FliOFEBTY. [cm. 
 
 in the scale of being. Every one lias seen the 
 attempts at appropriating, and subduing to them- 
 selves, the unconscious, made by beavers, wasps, 
 ants, and birds. My dog has a keen sense of 
 proprietorship in the basket which is his sitting 
 room by day, and his bed by night. We may 
 safely assent to Mr. Spencer's argument that " if 
 a propensity to personal acquisition be really a 
 component of man's constitution, then that cannot 
 be a right form of society which allows it no 
 scope." * 
 
 But I would put the matter in another way, 
 which unfortunately is not Mr. Spencer's way at 
 all, I do not believe w^itli him that right and duty 
 are merely ''''•Instincts rcdsounesJ^ I hold that in 
 ethics — the rule of what should be, as distinct from 
 what is — we must begin with the facts, not of man's 
 animal, but of his moral nature : personality, will, 
 consciousness ; that invisible, but most real world, 
 which is the domain, not of the physicist, but of 
 the metaphysician. As I insisted in the Fourth 
 Chapter, it is from personality that all rights spring; 
 all rights, not only the rights of men. For to the 
 lower animals we may attribute at least quasi rights, 
 in proportion as they advance toward personality. 
 They are not strictly persons ; but there is in them 
 an element which is the foundation of personality ; 
 ein Stilck |;^rs6V2'/ic?/i6'5, Trendelenburg calls it. 
 And here is the true ground of the legal 
 
 * Socidl ,Sfcd/c.<i, c. X. § 4. 
 
VIII.] A FUNDAMENTAL TIWTU. . 179 
 
 2)roliibition of cruelty to them. But only man, 
 self-conscious, self-determined, morally responsible, 
 is, in the proper sense of the word, a Ferson. And 
 of personality liberty of volition — wherein all other 
 liberties are grounded — is the necessary outcome. 
 A man is lord of himself. He has an indefeasible 
 right to live out his own life, as a man. And he has 
 an indefeasible right to all that is necessary to enable 
 him to do that. The word person denotes the indi- 
 vidual as capable of rights [rechtsfdJiig) and in one 
 sense we may say that all rights are personal. 
 They spring from personality. 
 
 Let us lay this fundamental truth to heart, for 
 it is of the most momentous practical importance. 
 The principle of right, I say, is human personality 
 — the ethical idea and psychological being of man. 
 From this fount flow all those various natural rights 
 which constitute his primordial, inalienable, and 
 im])rescrij)tible inheritance. But the Person is 
 found only in society. Only in opposition to the 
 "Thou," does the '«!" arise. It is in civilisation 
 that the idea of rio-ht unfolds itself. And according 
 to the degree of civilisation — wliicli means man's 
 consciousness of himself and his environment — 
 positive rights vary. The more developed the 
 consciousness, the greater the right. Children have 
 not the same positive rights as men ; and there are 
 states of civilisation which are infantine, nay, em- 
 bryonic. In the earliest historical period, the 
 ethical idea is dim, obscure, dream-like. Gradually, 
 man attains to clearer knowledge of himself and 
 
 n2 
 
180 THi: ETHICS OF FBOFEllTY. [ch. 
 
 of his ethical end ; and the concept of right, little 
 by little, purifies and shapes public and private life. 
 To the validity of all right, the recognition of the 
 community is essential. And Avhen in treating of 
 man's natural rights we pass from the abstract to 
 the concrete, we must ever remember that those 
 rights are conditioned b}' the social organism in 
 which man is found. It is only by an effort of 
 the imagination that we abstract the individual 
 from the community. The primary error of modern 
 publicists of the Rousseauan School is to forget this, 
 and to legislate for an imaginary man, belonging to 
 a fabulous j^rehistoric period, "When wild in woods 
 the noble savage ran." Not man unclothed, but 
 man clothed upon, is the true ideal; man developed 
 and cultivated to the utmost by society ; his affec- 
 tions, capacities, and powers all brought under the 
 sway of reason. And tlie natural rights of this 
 ideal have only an ideal value. The individual is 
 a portion of the social organism. His rights exist 
 in subordination to that whole of which he is a 
 part. They are conditioned by his duties. To 
 which we may add, that the whole is before the 
 parts of which it is composed. The preservation 
 of the whole is the condition of the existence of 
 the parts. And, in the last resort, the whole, for 
 its self-preservation, possesses a right to dispose 
 of the parts, according to the dictum '' Salus 
 populi suprcma lex." 
 
 Now all this holds good of the right of private 
 property. Its ultimate ground is necessity, issuing 
 
viii.] THE ULTIMATE GROUND. 181 
 
 from the reason of things. Private propert}^, like 
 individual liberty— of which, indeed, it is a part — ■ 
 is necessary to the full idea of human personality, 
 to its due exp)lication, its complete development. 
 It is the instinct of self-preservation which leads 
 US to appropriate things, to convert them into last- 
 ing instruments of the will. And a thing, being 
 void of self, has no right against a person possess- 
 ing selfhood. Property is a specific instrmnent of 
 human will and of human aims. It is realised 
 liberty. As Locke observes : " Every man has a 
 property in his own person : this nobody has a 
 right to but himself. The labour of his body and 
 the work of his hands, we may say, are properly 
 his."* Yes, we may. And we may say the same 
 of the labour of his mind, and of the work of his 
 brain. A man has a right to be himself, to live 
 out his own life. But the most valuable part of 
 his life is the intellectual. He has a right to the 
 fruit of his labour. And mental labour is of far 
 more account than j^hysical. 
 
 But wherein does property really consist ? Not 
 in bare possession. There may be property with- 
 out possession, and possession without property. 
 My watch may be in the possession of a thief. But 
 it is still my property. Possession is merely physi- 
 cal. Property belongs to the moral realm, the 
 realm of rights. And, as I have already observed, 
 it is only in the social organism that rights become 
 valid. It is not that the original source of the right 
 * Of Civil Government, c. v. 
 
182 THE ETHICS OF PBOPEBTY. [en. 
 
 to property is in tlie will of the community. The 
 mere volition of a tribe, of a nation, of the whole 
 human race, cannot really create right, in the phi- 
 losophical sense of the word. The true source of 
 right is in the reason of things, which is ethical. 
 But only in civil conditions is the right to pro- 
 perty, like all rights, realised. And as the right 
 to property becomes valid in civil society, so does 
 its possession imply duties to civil society. The 
 rights of property and the duties of property 
 spring together from the idea of the social organ- 
 ism, and must, therefore, symmetrically correspond. 
 The happiness, nay the maintenance of the state 
 depends upon the balance. The cupidity of human 
 nature is ever tending to destroy it. 
 
 To sum up the argument. The right to private 
 property is a natural right. It is the expression 
 and the guarantee of moral personality, and is 
 therefore inviolable. It is a necessary means of 
 the ethical development of tlie individual, of the 
 explication of personality. But, like all rights, 
 it becomes valid only in the community in 
 which it is exercised. It is a moral entity, 
 limited by the idea of the inviolable per- 
 sonality of others, by the general laws and prin- 
 ciples of ethics. It is conditioned by correlative 
 duties varying in extent, according to the degree 
 of civilisation and the circumstances of the age. It 
 is held in subordination to the supreme claims of 
 the community. It must not be exercised arbitrarily, 
 not abused wantonly. It must be used for the 
 
VI II.] • FACTS. 183 
 
 good of the community in which it is possessed, 
 as well as for the good of the possessor. It must 
 bo organised in the conmionwealth; that is, it must 
 be regulated by reason . 
 
 And now, turning aside from these abstract con- 
 siderations, let us look out into the concrete world, 
 and see how things really are in respect of pro- 
 perty. It will suffice if we confine our attention 
 to our own country — the richest country in the 
 world. For what we see there, we may see, in 
 greater or less degree, elsewhere. The tendency 
 is everywhere the same. Think of the condition, 
 the economical condition, of this vast London in 
 which I am writing ; of the appalling contrasts 
 exhibited by the thousands of rich and the 
 millions of poor. Realise what the words mean 
 which M. Zola uses in his terrible picture of the 
 famishing Grervaise : " Ah ! la crevaison des pauvres, 
 les entrailles vides qui crient la faim, les besoins des 
 betes claquant des dents et s'empiffrant de choses im- 
 mondes, dans ce grand Paris, si dore et siflambant." 
 " I know the East end of London very well," testi- 
 fies Dr. Ryle, the Protestant Bishop of Liverpool ; 
 '' the men are living there little better than beasts." 
 "Half beast, half devil," he thinks, "would truly 
 describe them." Not long ago the Times spoke of 
 the slums of London as " the kitchen-midden of 
 humanit}'.,'^ ^ ' Ten thousand of our fellow creatures," 
 
184 TEE ETHICS OF PBOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 wrote the well-known philanthropist, 8. G. 0., to 
 the same journal, '' are begotten and reared in an 
 atmosphere of brutality, a species of human sewage, 
 the very drainage of the vilest productions of or- 
 dinary vice." Picture the hungry hordes who 
 go up and down the streets seeking work, and 
 finding none ; that great army of the unemployed 
 with no choice between imprisonment in the work- 
 house and starvation outside. And what employ- 
 ment, it often is, if they succeed in finding it! 
 Think of the wretched women who make the boxes 
 in which matches are sold — their pay 2Jd. for turn- 
 ing out a gross of them, and putting on the labels, 
 and tying them up in bundles, themselves providing 
 paste, firing, and string. Think of their scarce 
 happier sisters, who toil from morning to night, 
 folding, folding, folding sheets of cheap Bibles — 
 well pleased if they can thereby earn ten shillings a 
 week. Such, in outline, which can be only too 
 easily filled, are the facts which meet us in our 
 great cities. I am told, however, that there is im- 
 provement every year. It may be so. But I cannot 
 shut my eyes to the sights which stare me in the face 
 every day; to the deep and widespread degradation, 
 physical, mental, and moral, surging around the 
 well apjoointed houses in which we, "the comfortable 
 classes," lead our cultured, comely, and commodious 
 lives ; or to the abject poverty which is a main cause 
 of that degradation. Of the rural population I need 
 hardly speak. Fifty years ago Lord Beaconsfiold 
 
viii.j FIGURES. 185 
 
 drew, ill Sijhil, the picture of tlieir condition, 
 lieiglitcuing it by a, not wholly imaginary contrast : 
 
 " Remember wliat they once Avere — the freest, the bravest, 
 the best natiTred, and the best looking, the happiest and most 
 religious race upon the surface of this globe. And think of 
 them now, with all their crimes, and all their slavish sufferings; 
 their soui-ed spiints and their stunted forms; their lives witliout 
 enjoyment, and their deaths without hope." 
 
 Am I told that this is rhetoric ? Well, let us come 
 to figures, which are more eloquent than any tropes. 
 The total production of the United Kingdom may 
 be roughly estimated at £1,250,000,000. Of this 
 sum, the share taken by landlords, capitalists, 
 and middle men amounts in round numbers to 
 £800,000,000, and the share taken by skilled and 
 unskilled labourers to £450,000,000. "The re- 
 ward," Mr. Mill has somewhere observed, '' instead 
 of being proportioned to the labour and abstinence 
 of the individual, is almost in an inverse ratio to it : 
 those who receive the least, labour and abstain the 
 most." 
 
 Now is this condition of the community, is the 
 distribution of wealth issuing in such a state of the 
 social organism., reasonable ? Is it right ? The 
 two questions, remember, are really one. For 
 reason and right are identical. There are those 
 who, more or less explicitly, contend that it is. 
 Well does Mr. Henry George remark: ''There is 
 a gospel of selfishness, soothing as soft flutes to 
 those, who having fared well themselves, think that 
 
186 TEE ETEK'S OF PBOPEBTY. [ ch 
 
 everybody ought to l3e satisfied." I am sorry to 
 say til at gospel is not imfrequently preached in 
 Christian churches. The Beatl ijauperes of Christ 
 is converted into JBeati j^ossidentes, in the mouths 
 of many who claim to prophesy in His name. 
 Then, there is a sect of political economists for 
 whom to buy in the cheapest and to sell in the 
 dearest market, is the whole duty of man, and the 
 ^oayment of wages the sole bond of human society. 
 This is that Benthamite doctrine which Mr. Carlyle 
 denounced as " a wretched, unsympathetic, scraggy 
 Atheism and Egoism." It is what George Sand 
 called " the love of money erected into a dogma 
 of public morality." Tiie practical outcome is the 
 declaration which we so often hear, that a man has 
 a riglit to do what he will with his own. This is 
 indeed a contradiction in terms. A right is not 
 a thing which can be used by the mere arbitrariness 
 of self-Avill. If you so use it, you convert it into 
 a Avrong, for it is a moral entity conditioned by 
 duties. Rights and duties can no more exist apart, 
 than can the three angles of a triangle. Speaking 
 generally, all this seems to be hidden from the eyes 
 of the wealthy. It has been said by Victor Hugo, 
 not too strongly, " The Paradise of the rich is made 
 out of the hell of the poor." That the wealth of 
 the world should increase so rapidly as it does 
 increase, and that so large a share of its benefits 
 should be absorbed by a little class of capitalists, 
 while so small a share falls to the great mass of 
 
VIII.] "IT IS UNJUST: IT CANNOT LASTr 187 
 
 producers,* is surely sufficient proof that the world 
 is out of joint upon this vital question. The 
 sophisms of selfishness, the platitudes of political 
 economists, are opposed to tliose "moral laws of 
 nature and of nations," which rule supreme over 
 property, commerce, industry, as elsewhere. '' It 
 is unjust, it cannot last," judged the wise Duke of 
 Weimar when the first Napoleon's glory was at its 
 height. We must judge likewise of the present 
 distribution of property. 
 
 " To me, at least, it would be enongli to condemn modern 
 society as liardly an adA^ance on slavery or sci'fdom, if tlie 
 permanent condition of industry were to be that wliicli wo 
 behold, that ninety per cent, of the actual producers of wealth 
 have no home that they can call their own beyond the end of 
 the week; have no bit of soil, or sc much as a room that 
 belongs to them ; have nothing of value of any kind except as 
 much old furniture as will go in a cart ; have the precarious 
 chance of weekly wages which barely suffices to keep them in 
 health ; are housed for the most part in places that no man 
 thinks fit for his horse ; are separated by so narrow a margin 
 
 * Mr. Ruskiu's charming account of the way iu which his own 
 patrimony was acquired supplies an excellent illustration of what 
 I am writing. '■ My father aud his partners entered into what 
 your correspondent mellifluously styles ' a mutually beneficent 
 partnership' with certain labourers in Spain. These labourers 
 produced from the cartli, annually, a certain number of bottles of 
 wine. These productions were sold by my father and his partners, 
 who kept nine-tenths, or thereabouts, of the price themselves, and 
 gave one-tenth, or thereabouts, to the labourers. In which state 
 of mutual beneficence my father and liis partners naturally became 
 rich, and the labourers as naturally remained poor. Then my 
 good father gave all his money to me." Airoius of the Chace, 
 vol. ii. p. 102. 
 
188 THE ETEICS OF PBOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 from destitution, that a month of bad trade, sickness, or unex- 
 pected loss, lirings them face to face with hunger and pau- 
 perism This is the normal state of the average workman 
 
 in town or country." 
 
 So Mr. Frederic Harrison, as quoted in the J^epor.t 
 of the Industrial liemunerallon Conference. And 
 1 entirely agree with him. To the like effect writes 
 Mr. Giffen in the Second Volume of his Essays 
 on Finance. "No one," this eminent statistician 
 judges, " can contemplate the present condition of 
 the masses of the people, without desiring some- 
 thing like a revolution for the better." 
 
 What then is the true remedy ? Socialism pro- 
 fesses to offer one. Let us see what it really 
 amounts to. It is well worth while to do 
 this. My lamented friend, the late Sir Henry 
 Maine, has well observed, in his last work : " There 
 can be no more formidable symptom of our time 
 than the growth of Irrecoiicileable bodies within the 
 mass of the population ; associations of men who 
 hold political opinions as men once held religious 
 opinions. They cling to their creed with the same 
 intensity of belief, the same immunity from doubt, 
 the same confident expectation of blessedness to 
 come quickly, which characterises the disciples of 
 an infant faith."* The enthusiasm, no less than the 
 growing numbers, of the Socialists entitles them to 
 the candid attention of every publicist ; for cn- 
 * Popular Government, p. 25. 
 
viii.J SOCIALISM AND PRIVATE PROPERTY. 189 
 
 tliiisiasm is one of the greatest factors in the world's 
 liistory. Let us see what is the means by which 
 they seek to set the world right on this matter of 
 property. 
 
 It is a very simple means. It is, in effect, to 
 annihilate private property. And here I may be met 
 with the objection : " You are confounding two 
 things that aie quite different : Communism is one 
 thing. Socialism another." Well, I am fully aware 
 that a distinction is often set up between the two 
 things. But I confess it seems to me a distinction 
 without much practical difference. Communism 
 postulates — or necessarily implies, if it does not 
 actually j)ostulate — the complete abolition of jjrivate 
 property, and the supply of each individual from 
 the common store, without much regard, apparently, 
 to the contributions to that common store which the 
 individual may, or may not, have made. And so 
 the pithy formula of Louis Blanc : " De chacun selon 
 ses facultes ; a chacun selon ses besoins." Socialism, 
 at all events as expounded in England, does not, 
 in words, go so far as this. But it certainly denies 
 private property in the instruments of production, 
 and seeks to " socialise" them. Thus, Mr. Hyndman 
 desiderates "collective ownership of land, capital, 
 machinery, and credit," * which, surely, comes 
 very close to the annihilation of private pro23crty. 
 Would it not reduce individual ownership to the 
 
 * 117// Soci((}isin hencjit the English Proplf ? a Debate between 
 Charles Biadlaugli and H. M. Hyndman, p. 12. 
 
19U • THE ETHICS OF FEOFEBTY. [ch- 
 
 peciilimn of a Roman slave ? But tliere lies before 
 me TJie Manifesto of the SocialistiG League, 
 ''signed by the Provisional Council at the founda- 
 tion of the League on December 30th, 1884, and 
 adopted at the General Conference, held at Far- 
 ringdon Hall, London, on July 5th, 1885 " — 
 presumably, an authoritative document. Take the 
 following extract from it: 
 
 " The workers, although they produce all tlie -svealth of 
 society, have no conti^ol over its productions or distribution ; 
 the people who are the only really organic part of society, are 
 treated as a mere appendage to capital — as a part of its 
 machinery. This must be altered from the foundation; the 
 land, the capital, the machinery, factox'ies, workshops, stores, 
 means of transit, mines, banking, all means of production and 
 distribution of wealth, must be declared and treated as the 
 
 common property of all Only by such fundamental 
 
 changes, only by the transformation of Civilisation into Social- 
 ism, can those miseries of the woi^d before-mentioned be 
 amended." 
 
 Messrs. William Morris and Belfort Bax, who are 
 among the most intelligent of the Socialist leaders, 
 in their annotations appended to this document, tell 
 us, " The end which true Socialism sets before us is 
 the realisation of absolute equality of condition, 
 helped by the development of variety of capacity." 
 Is this exposition correct ? If it is, surely, Mr. 
 Bradlaugh, who unites to strong common sense the 
 advantage of a certain legal training, is not much 
 out when he writes: 
 
 " I understand and define Socialism as (1) denying or destroy- 
 ing all individual private property : and (2) as affirming that 
 
viii.] THE CONDEMNATION OF SOCIALISM. 191 
 
 Society, organised as the State, slioukl own all wealth, direct all 
 labour, and compel the equal distribution of all produce. I under- 
 stand a Socialistic State to be (3) that State in which evervthing 
 Would be common as to its user and in which all labour would be 
 controlled by the State, which from the common stock would 
 maintain the labourer and would take all the produce of the labour. 
 That is (4) I identify Socialism with Communism." * 
 
 Now what are we to say to this nostrum, wlicrc- 
 by the Socialistic League would remedy the miseries 
 of the world ? At the outset it is open to tliis 
 manifest objection, that tlie remedy is worse than 
 the disease. I do not underrate the gravity of the 
 disease, as will appear from what I have already 
 said. But what does the socialistic proposal really 
 mean ? It means the undoing of the work of 
 civilisation. For in what does tlie progress of 
 European society consist? It consists in the evolu- 
 tion of the individual. Among our Aryan ancestors, 
 in the earliest stages known to us of their social 
 organisation, we find neither personal liberty, nor 
 its most characteristic incident, single ownership. 
 The unit of tlie public order is not the individual, 
 but the family, whose head exercises desj^otic power 
 over its members. Not K'-everal, but common posses- 
 sion, is the form in which property is held. For 
 long ages the uiiemancipated son differed nothing 
 from a slave. The history of Western civilisation, 
 whatever else it may be, is certainly the history of 
 the growth of personal liberty and of private pro- 
 perty. And the two things are most intimately 
 
 * Socialism, For and Against, by Charles Bradlaugh and Annie 
 Besaut, p. 1. 
 
192 THE ETHICS OF FBOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 connectedj for property is but liberty realised. 
 Socialism, as Proudlion confessed, "'is apt to take 
 its assumptions for facts ; its Utopias for institu- 
 tions." Its Utopias, realised, would, alas ! mean 
 barbarism. And what can be more false than some 
 of its assumptions ? Take one, for example, 
 insisted on in the extract which I gave just now 
 from the Manifesto of tlie Socialistic League^ that 
 " the workers produce all the wealth of society." 
 Does not capital, then, create value ? Does it not 
 render human labour more productive by pro- 
 moting co-operation and by the use of improved 
 machinery ? A machine, and the men who work 
 it, both create value ; and both the labour stored 
 up in the machine, and the men who work it, 
 deserve reward ; in the one case the reward is 
 called profits, in the other wages. It is not true 
 that "the workers produce all the wealth of societ}^; " 
 or that " living labour creates all value." But it is 
 true that the Socialistic theory reduces all labour 
 to unskilled labour. It is true, also, that Socialism 
 is in direct conflict with man's natural rights ; and 
 that is its sufficient condemnation. It is fatal to 
 human liberty : for it is the negation of man's most 
 sacred prerogative to be himself, to live out his own 
 life. Its method is like that of the well-intentioned 
 but unwise father, who is related by Mr. Samuel 
 Weller to have cut off his son's head, in order to 
 cure him of squinting. 
 
 Socialism indeed, if we consider it in its con- 
 
viii.] THE DOCrilTXE OF AQUTNAS. 193 
 
 striictive proposals, is but one of tlie many expres- 
 sions of the abonnding materialism of the clay. It 
 is a chapter, and a very ignoble one, in what Mr. 
 Carlyle was wont to call "pig philosophy," It is 
 devoid of any true notion of the organic, which is 
 essentially rational and ethical. It would reduce 
 the public order to a machine, and would bring in 
 an era of universal slaver}^, with a modicum of 
 pig's wash for all. Shall we barter our birthright 
 of liberty for a mess of pottage ? And such a mess ! 
 No : the realisation of the socialistic idea must, at 
 any cost, be prevented : even if we have to seek in 
 the gallows and the sw^ord the ultimate answer to 
 its votaries. The preservation of the fair frame 
 of civilisation is of infinitely more account than are 
 the lives of a horde of fools and fanatics. 
 
 The importance of Socialism appears to me to 
 lie not in its crude and monstrous theories, but in 
 this ; that, to quote certain words of the late Pro- 
 fessor Ingram, "it is alike the inevitable and in- 
 dispensable expression of the protest of the working 
 classes, and the aspiration after a better order of 
 things." But wdiat is the foundation on which that 
 better order must be reared ? I answer, the moral 
 law. Other foundation can no man lay. Aquinas 
 goes to the heart of the matter in a few pregnant 
 words, which, though written six centuries ago are 
 as applicable, now, as they were then: for the truth 
 
 o 
 
194 TEE FTEWS OF PBOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 which they express is not of an age, but for all 
 time. " The possession of riches is not, in itself, 
 unlawful, if the order of reason be observed : that 
 is to say, that a man possess justly what he owns, 
 and that he use it in a proper manner for himself 
 and others."* Let us consider a little what this 
 dictum involves. To render property lawful — that 
 is, ethical, rightful — a man must possess justly what 
 he owns. Justl//. What does that mean ? Does 
 it mean that a man is warranted by the moral law, 
 in an7/ gain which he may make, without bringing 
 himself into the police court? That is a very 
 common view, and is very generally acted upon. 
 The cheapening of commodities, by unrestricted 
 competition, has been the guiding idea of English 
 manufacture, and of English commerce, during the 
 last half-centurv. To get out of men the utmost 
 exertion of which they are capable, for the smallest 
 wages which they can be induced to accept, is very 
 widely supposed to sum up the whole duty of an 
 employer toward his " liands." We have forgotten 
 that these "hands" are men. We have treated 
 them as merely animated machines. Well, I say, 
 unhesitatingly, that to pit a destitute man against 
 his destitute fellows, and to wring from him his 
 
 * " Ea qute exterius possideiitur ueccssaria sunt ad sumptionem 
 clborum, ad edncationem prolis, ad sustentationem familiaj, ct ad 
 alias corporis necessitates ; consequens est quod nee secundum se 
 etiani divitiavuia possessio est illicita si ordo rationis servetur, 
 quod juste iioiuo possideat qua; liabet, et quod eis debito modo 
 Titatur ad suam ct aliorum utilitatem." Contra Gentes, lib. 3, 123. 
 
VIII.] JUSTUM PEEriUM. 195 
 
 labour for tlio scantiest pittance to which he can 
 be ground down, is wrong. The necessity of the 
 seller does not make it right to underpay him. If 
 I give him less than ^ justum pret'mm, an equitable 
 price, for his work, I do in fact rob him. And 
 this is at once the most common and the most 
 disgraceful form of theft : the most common, for it 
 is found in all departments of life ; the most dis- 
 graceful, because it is the most cowardly. It is a 
 duty of strict justice for the employer to give to 
 his work-people a justum pretium. The violation 
 of this duty is reckoned by the Catholic Church 
 among the sins that cry to heaven. And the 
 measure of the justum pretium is the means of 
 living a decent life, morally and materially ; which 
 includes not merely food and clothing, house and 
 hom.e, but leisure and spiritual cultivation : not 
 merely, as the schoolmen speak, bona naturce neces- 
 saria, but also bona statui necessaria. But the very 
 notion of a justum pretium. has welbnigh died out 
 of the poj^ular mind, which sums up its code of 
 commercial morality in the maxim : " Buy in the 
 cheapest market and sell in the dearest : " a maxim 
 involving a principle that would justify the most 
 atrocious forms of "sweating'" and rackrenting-. * It 
 
 * Tlie following very sensible and suggestive remarks of Mr. 
 Hyndman, written, indeed, in another connection, may fitly be 
 suliidincd Lore: " But it may be asked, how is value to be doter- 
 miiicd, save by competition and higgling of the market? Value 
 is not so determined to-dny. Supply and demand only regulate 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE ETHICS OF PBOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 may, however, be said : " Everywhere througliont 
 nature, variety and competition are the conditions of 
 advance : the struggle for existence, the survival of 
 the fittest, are truths, however stern, and are not 
 to be altered by whole libraries of sentiment." I 
 reply : The struggle for existence is, indeed, the 
 universal rule of nature. But the business of man, 
 who is an ethical animal, having perception of right 
 and wrong, justice and injustice, is to moralise that 
 struggle. Freedom of contract? Good. But to 
 constitute freedom of contract there must be parity 
 of condition. What parity of condition is there 
 between the replete manufacturer and his starving 
 " hand " ? I say, without a shadow of doubt, 
 that to much j)i'operty the saying of Proudhon is 
 
 relative values of commodities over short periods ; cost of produc- 
 tion — that is the average quantity of social human labour needed 
 to bring them forward for exchange — governs the exchange value 
 of the mass of commodities in the long run, A letter is sent 
 nearly the world over for 2|fZ., no matter liow important the nature 
 of its contents or how anxious the sender to have it delivered; 
 public advantage has produced an international post, in spite of 
 all international jealousies. A traveller takes a passage at a fixed 
 cost, though, maybe, he would pay fifty times the sum asked rather 
 than not go. Even in cities the government, or the municipalities, 
 regulate cab-fares in order to check the working of that very 
 higgling of the market, and to regulate the action of those very 
 supply and demand, and caveat-emptor maxims which middle-class 
 economists never weary of proclaiming as the law of all laws, not 
 to be set aside without positive danger. Here, then, we may 
 foresee with the accuracy of scientific knowledge a community in 
 which the social forces will be used for determinate social ends." 
 nie Historical Basis of Socialism, p. 468. 
 
VIII.] THE IIIGIIER OWNEItSIlIP. 197 
 
 strictly applicable : "La proprietc c'est le vol." 
 '• As a fact, much of the wealth of the rich classes 
 in modern Europe has been gathered together, and 
 is kept up, by dreadful deeds of cruelty, extortion, 
 and fraud." * 
 
 But suppose that a man's property has been 
 justly acquired. To render his possession of it 
 valid, according to the moral law, there lies upon 
 him the obligation of emjoloying it in a proper 
 manner for himself and others. Nothing is falser 
 than the saying that a man has a right to do what 
 he likes with his own. A man has not aright to do 
 what he likes with his own. He has only a right to do 
 what he ought with his own ; which, after all, is 
 his own in a very qualified sense. The only things 
 which a man can in strictness call his own — and 
 even here he is under the law of conscience — are 
 his spiritual, intellectual, and physical faculties. 
 The material object on which he exercises these 
 faculties is subject to a higher ownership than his ; 
 to the indefeasible title of the human race, repre- 
 sented to him by the community in which he lives. 
 Of the material surroundings which he calls "mine," 
 he is but a usufructuary, a trustee. The ultimate 
 and inalienable ownership of what Aristotle called 
 " the bounty of nature " is in the human race. 
 Each country belongs, in the last resort, to its 
 inhabitants in general ; each country, with all that 
 makes it a country — not merely its laud, but ail 
 * Groundwork of Economics, by C. S. Devas, § 2G]. 
 
198 THE ETHICS OF FBOPEUTY. [ch. 
 
 that has been taken from the land, from time im- 
 memorial, and transformed into the various instru- 
 ments of civilised life. The community is the 
 overlord not merely of the possessor of the soil, but 
 of the shopkeeper, the manufacturer, the banker. 
 Mr. Chamberlain's doctrine of ''ransom" is truer than 
 he deems, for he does not carry it far enough. Not 
 only the soil of the country, but its entire accumu- 
 lated wealth, natural and fabricated, is, I say, in 
 the last resort, the property of the countr}^. The 
 individual owner of any portion of it holds subject 
 to that higher title. It has been well observed by 
 Mr. Mill, " T]iat the earth belongs, first of all, to 
 the inhabitants of it ; that every person alive 
 ought to have a subsistence before any one has 
 more ; that whosoever works at any useful thing 
 ought to be properly fed and clothed before any 
 one, able to work, is allowed to receive the bread of 
 idleness — these are moral axioms." * Yes : these 
 are moral axioms ; and they carry us a long way. 
 But further. Property means exclusion. But has 
 any one the right absolutely to shut off others from 
 the benefit of that which is his ? Assuredly not. 
 Solidarity is the law of the human race. No man 
 liveth to himself. The very constitution of civilised 
 life gives rise to the duty that ownership must be 
 made a common good to the community. It is 
 worthy of notice that in the middle ages the fidu- 
 ciary nature of property was emphatically re- 
 
 * Disserlatiuns and Discussioiis, vol. ii. p. 385. 
 
Yiii.] •' TUJ^ OLD UUDKR CllANGETHr ID'J 
 
 cognised. Land was then almost the only form of 
 wealtli. And, as we all know, to the possession of 
 land, duties were strictly attached; and those duties 
 were rigorously exacted. This principle must be 
 recognised, in respect of wealth generally ; recog- 
 nised, and if need be, legally enforced. 
 
 So much, assuredly, is involved in the observa- 
 tion of the order of reason, regarding this great 
 question of property. And, as assuredly, nothing 
 can be less reasonable than the regime of competi- 
 tion and individualism, in support of which so many 
 ponderous tomes of nonsense, dignified as political 
 economy, have been inflicted upon a long-suffering 
 world. That regime is passing away. Socialism 
 means so much. And the task which lies before the 
 Avorld is the re-organisation of industry upon an 
 ethical basis. The abuses of the old-world organ- 
 isation were manifest. They have disappeared. 
 But the organisation has disappeared too. The old 
 fellowship of labour is a recollection of the past. 
 The new fellowship of labour is the hope of tlie 
 future.* The era is surely approaching when, in 
 
 * It has been observed by Mr. Carlyle — and they are among 
 the wisest words which he ever wrote — " At no time, since the 
 beginnings of society, Avas the lot of the .... dumb millions of 
 toilers so utterly unbearable as it is, even in the days now passing- 
 over us. It is not to die, or even to die of hunger, that makes a 
 man wretched. But it is to live miserable, we know not why ; 
 to work sore, and yet gain nothing ; to be ... . isolated, unrelated, 
 girt in with a cold, universal biissez-J'aire. Past and Present, 
 p. 234. 
 
200 THE ETHICS OF FIWFEBTY. [cii. 
 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer's liappy words, " One man 
 will not be suffered to enjoy without working, that 
 which another produces without enjoying;" when 
 what Mr. Mill justly calls " the great social evil of 
 a non-labouring class " will no longer be tolerated ; 
 when the true answer to Socialism, with its bar- 
 barous schemes for the confiscation of capital, will 
 be given by a vast extension of co-operation which 
 will make every labourer a capitalist. Co-opera- 
 tion ! That word is tlie key to the solution of the 
 great problem. The struggle of clasi^es, which 
 practically divides England into two nations, is 
 due, we are often told, to a change in economic 
 conditions. The introduction of machinery and 
 steam, it is said, has brought about the vast conflict 
 between capital and labour. Machinery and steam ! 
 Change in economic conditions ! There is more 
 than that in the disastrous, the suicidal struggle, of 
 which strikes are the practical issue. There is this: 
 that our industrial system has been based upon 
 competition, while it should have been based upon 
 co-operation. 
 
 The present industrial chaos is due to the lack of 
 organic unity. The task which lies before us is the 
 restoration of such unity. And the question of the 
 day is whether, or rather, how far, the State should 
 undertake that task. To represent every regula- 
 tion of industry by public authority as an infringe- 
 ment of industrial liberty is absurd. The State may 
 rightly check monopolies, curb and restrain compe- 
 
VI 
 
 II.] , TIH£ TA,SK nEFOUE US. 201 
 
 titioiij limit hours of labour, and in a thousand 
 other ways fulfill its diit}^ of promoting the pros- 
 perity of all its members, and especially of the 
 necessitous. Thus, to give one example only, the 
 manual toiler serves not onl)^ himself and his 
 immediate employer, but his country. He has, 
 therefore, a right against his country for a decent 
 jDrovision — not imprisonment in a workhouse — when 
 he is past toil. And in discharging its duty in such 
 respects, the State really advances individual liberty. 
 It promotes that ''moral freedom " which we may 
 agree with Professor Green in regarding as the end 
 of 2)olitical organisation. But while allowing, or 
 rather, insisting upon, all this, I cannot but think 
 that even the more reasoned and scientific kinds of 
 State Socialism, advocated by German thinkers of 
 no mean ability, would paralyse much that is best 
 in human society. It seems to me not easy to over- 
 rate the disastrous effect upon national life which 
 must result, in proj^ortion as the State assumes the 
 functions of the father, the master, the guild, the 
 church. I believe the new industrial organisation 
 which the world must have, will be a natural 
 growth, not an artificial machine ; a growth rooted 
 in the essential needs of hunum nature, which are 
 ethical needs; in the regulative principles of human 
 action, which are ethical princij^les; in '' the might}^ 
 hopes that make us men," which are ethical hopes. 
 So much seems to me certain. So much, and no 
 more. " Prudens futuri temporis exitum caliginosa 
 
202 TH]^ ETHICS OF PEOPEBTY. [ch. 
 
 nocte premit Deus." The wisest can but discern 
 dimly the shadowy outlines of the new order : "the 
 baby figure of the giant mass of things to come at 
 large." It is enough for us to look for, and to 
 hasten unto, that ampler day : 
 
 " Enougli, if somctliing- from our hands liavo jjower 
 To live, and work, and serve the future hour." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 A VETERAN statesman, in conversation with me 
 a few years ago, spoke of marriage as " the 
 stumbling-stone of the age." I replied: " So much 
 the worse for the age, for an age which falls upon 
 that stone shall be broken." I propose to offer, 
 here, some considerations upon this grave topic. 
 
 Our existing civilisation unquestionably rests 
 upon marriage, as the Christian religion has shaped 
 it. For a thousand years, while that order of 
 things which we call Christendom endured, the 
 Catholic Church was the great ethical instructor of 
 the progressive societies of the western world. The 
 key note of her teaching was duty — the whole duty 
 of man, in all the relations of life. And nowhere 
 was that teaching clearer, loftier, and more fruitful, 
 than in her doctrine concerning matrimony. It is 
 not too much to say that she recreated marriage. 
 That must, beyond controversy, be conceded to 
 her, as a special and unique achievement. I do not 
 undervalue wliat other great religions of the world 
 
204 TH:E ethic 8 OF MABRIAGE. [ch. 
 
 liave done to piirif}^ and elevate domestic life. I 
 am not insensible to the charm of the pictures 
 which Sanscrit ejjic poetrj presents to us, of the 
 purity and simplicity of the primitive Aryan home. 
 I recognise the great work which the Buddliist 
 reformation did for woman, making her the com- 
 panion of her husband, and assigning to her a 
 freedom unattained by her in the otlier oriental 
 systems. I confess how mucli even Islam effected 
 for the protection of the weaker sex, by curbing 
 and curtailing the unbounded license which its 
 prophet found among tlie deeply-sensual Arab 
 tribes, to wliom his revelation was first addressed. 
 Still, it remains, tliat nowhere is the immeasurable 
 superiority of Christianity to the rest of the world's 
 creeds more clearly manifested than in its ideal 
 and law of matrimony. 
 
 When the church first entered upon her struggle 
 with the decadent Paganism of the Roman Empire, 
 the archaic form of marriage, by which the wife 
 came " under the hand of her husband " (as the 
 legal phrase was), had become practically obsolete. 
 The newer form, which made of it a voluntary con- 
 jugal society, terminable by divorce at the pleasure 
 of either party, was well-nigh universal. Every 
 schoolboy who has read his Horace knows what 
 came of it. Tlie work of the church was to heal 
 the cancerous sore whicli, in the judgment of the 
 greatest of Latin historians, was eating out Rome's 
 moral life. Her remedy was the proclamation of 
 
IX.] THE LAW OF MONOGAMY. 205 
 
 iiionoo-amy, lioly and indissoluble. Tlie law had 
 been delivered by her Divine Founder in all its 
 strictness: ''Whosoever puttetli away his wife, and 
 marrietli another, committeth adultery ; and who- 
 soever marrieth her that is put away from her 
 husband, committeth adulter}^." The principle 
 underlying the law, of the spiritual equality 
 of woman with man, had been formulated bv St. 
 Paul: "In Jesus Christ there is neither male nor 
 female." It was the task of the churcli to i)reach 
 to the new civilisation this law, to indoctrinate it 
 with this principle. Of what consummate difBcidty 
 the task was, may be judged from the vacillations 
 of Koman jurisprudence, even after Christianity had 
 received imperial recognition. Nay, upon one point, 
 the cliurch herself c^ave no certain sound for Ion"' 
 ages. Even the most authoritative of her earlier 
 doctors hesitate in their judgment respecting a 
 husband who puts away an unfaithful wife and re- 
 marries. " He merely commits a venial sin," * St. 
 Augustine says, in one of his latest writings — a 
 much more lenient view tlian that expressed by him 
 in earlier works. St. Ambrose goes further, in o.:e 
 place, althougli he elsewdiere gives a contrary 
 opinion, and declares that such a remarriage is 
 no sin at all.f They were wrong. Gradually, but 
 surely, the sterner and loftier ideal of the Christian 
 
 * " In ipsis divinis sententiis itaobscurum est . . . nt (|nantuin 
 existimo venialiter ibi quisqne fallatur." De Fide et Opevibus. c. I'j. 
 
 ■(• " Yiro licet uxorem ducere si diiniserit nxorcm pcccantetu." 
 Comment, in Epist. I. ad Corinth. 
 
206 TEE ETHICS OF MAEBJAGE. [ch. 
 
 law was apprehended by the church and asserted 
 by the Itoman pontiffs. And in the opening middle 
 ages we find the absolute indissolubility of marriage, 
 when once riglith' contracted, save by the death of 
 one of the contracting parties, firmly established in 
 the canon law. 
 
 To that principle the Catholic Church has ever 
 borne unflinching testimony. Divoi'ce in the modern 
 sense [cUvortium a vinculo matrimonii) has no place 
 within her fold. Noteworthy is it, how in the midst 
 of the scandals and offences which from time to 
 time have disgraced the apostolic chair, the popes 
 have ever stood forth as the champions of the 
 sanctity, unity, and indissolubility of marriage ; 
 the bad popes, no less than the good. Let me, in 
 passing, merely point to two conspicuous examples. 
 1 do not entertain much respect for the personal 
 character of Clement VII. But it is undeniable 
 that every fresh piece of evidence made accessible 
 to us, from the English Public Record Office, and 
 elsewhere, exhibits him as actuated by a high sense 
 of duty in judging the matrimonial cause of Henry 
 VIII. From the point of view of secular interest, 
 Clement had everthing to gain by declaring the in- 
 validity of the King's first marriage; everything 
 to lose by upholding the rights of the blameless 
 Katherine. He lost a kingdom from Catholic 
 unity — a kingdom destined to grow into the im- 
 ]ierial fabric of British greatness. But to suffer 
 even that loss, rather than prostitute the sacrament 
 
jx.] THE CATHOLIC CEUBCB ANB MATRIMONY. 207 
 
 of matrimony to the lust of a tyrant, must be ac- 
 counted gain. Again, our own century supplies a 
 not less striking instance of Home's zealous guar- 
 dianship of this palladium of society. What a 
 spectacle to men and angels does Pius VII., that 
 holy and humble man of heart, present, confront- 
 ing, in this sacred cause; the modern Titan, to 
 whose magnetic power he was so keenly sensitive. 
 Jerome Bonaparte, brother of the first Napoleon, 
 had married an American Protestant girl of modest 
 station, and the Emperor besought the Pope to 
 declare the marriage void, alleging various bad 
 reasons for its uncanonicity. Pius VII., in a docu- 
 ment well worthy of perusal — for it sums up com- 
 pendiously the Catholic doctrine of matrimony — 
 goes through the Emperor's pleas, one by one, and 
 pronounces them worthless. God had joined that 
 man and that woman, had made of those twain one 
 flesh ; he dared not put them asunder. Blandish- 
 ments and threats alike fail to move "the inflexible 
 sweetness " of the aged pontiff. Come what may, 
 he will not be unfaithful to the Supreme Judge, 
 whose apostle he is, in whose name he speaks. 
 And, as we know, he received an apostolic reward. 
 
 Within the Catholic Church, marriage is, of course, 
 what it was. But the State is no longer Catholic ; 
 is no longer Christian. I will explain what I mean. 
 It was said in bygone days, by a very learned judge, 
 
208 • THE ETHICS OF MABBIAGE. [ch. 
 
 tliat Cliristianity was part and parcel of the law of 
 England. But, in truth, the old-world view of the 
 Christian State went far beyond that. I do not 
 know who has more precisely and accurately ex- 
 pressed it than Jeremy Taylor : 
 
 " God reigns over all Christendom, jast as lie did over the 
 Jews .... When it happens that a kingdom is converted to 
 Christianity, the commonwealth is made a church, the gentile 
 priests are Christian bishops, and the subjects of the kingdom 
 are the servants of Christ. The religion of the nation is termed 
 Christian, and the law of the nation made a part of the religion. 
 There is no change of government, Init that Christ is made 
 king and the temporal power his substitute." * 
 
 Such, unquestionably, was the conception of the 
 public order formerly entertained by Anglicanism, 
 by Presbyterianism, by Puritanism, as by Catholi- 
 cism. How strange does it seem to us in this 
 nineteenth century ! If there is any fact clearer 
 than another about this age, it is the divorce 
 between religion and civil government, which is 
 everywhere taking place in the civilised world, and 
 which has, in large measure, been already accom- 
 plished. The secularisation of the State, I say, is a 
 most marked characteristic of the age in which 
 we live. One result of it is the introduction every- 
 where of what is called civil marriage — the substi- 
 tution of a purely secular contract for the old 
 sacramental foundation of the social order. And 
 with the religious view of wedlock, are more or 
 
 * Life of Christy Introduction. 
 
IX.] ''FBEE THOUGHT'' AND MxlTBIMONY. 209 
 
 less disapi^earlng those distinctive attiibutcs where- 
 with religion had invested it. I need not say how 
 largely, during recent years, the old law of marriage 
 as it prevailed in Christendom, while Christendom 
 existed, has been relaxed in England, in France, 
 in the United States of America. In the Protestant 
 parts of German}^, where the influence of Luthcr- 
 anism, from the first, has been strongly hostile to 
 Catholic matrimonial traditions, the nuptial tie has 
 become a mere cobweb. I was assured, the other 
 day, that at a recent dinner party in one of the 
 provinces of Prussia, five out of eight ladies present 
 were the divorced wives cf one of the guests. 
 
 But, as we all know, even such light bonds ajjpear 
 to some publicists, both in America and in Europe, 
 too heavy. These are they — I have spoken of 
 them in an earlier portion of this work — who, 
 starting with the proposition that marriage is an 
 antiquated institution, belonging to an outworn 
 religion, the tomb of love, and a source of stupidity 
 and ugliness to the human race, would summarily 
 abolish it. Let us, in this connection, listen to Mr. 
 Karl Pearson, as he exj^resses himself in his very 
 interesting work. The Ethic of Free Thought : 
 
 " Legalised life-long- monogamy is in human history a thing 
 but of yesterday, and no unprejudiced person, however much it 
 may suit his own tastes, can suppose it a final form. ... A 
 
 new sex relationship will .... replace the old The 
 
 socialistic moA'cment, with its new morality, and the movement 
 for sex equality, must surely and raj^idly undermine our 
 current marriage customs and marriage laws. . . . The sex 
 
210 THE ETHICS OF MABBIAGE. [ch. 
 
 relationship of the future will not be regarded as a union for 
 the birth of children, but as the closest form of friendship 
 between man and woman. ... So long as it does not result in 
 children, we hold that the State of the future will in no wise 
 interfere ; but when it does result in children, then the State 
 Avill have a right to interfere, and this on two grounds : first, 
 because the question of population bears on the happiness of 
 society, as a whole ; and, secondly, because child-bearing- 
 enforces, for a longer or shorter interval, economic dependence 
 upon the woman. . . . Sex relationship, both as to forra and 
 substance, ought to be a pure question of taste, a simple matter 
 of agreement, between the man and the woman, in which 
 neither society nor the State would have any need or right to 
 interfere. . . . Children apart, it is unbearable that church 
 or society should in any official form interfere with lovers. . . . 
 Such, then, seems to me the socialistic solution of the sex 
 problem. Every man and woman would probably ultimately 
 choose a lover from their friends ; but the men and women 
 who, being absolutely free, would choose more than one, would 
 certainly be the exceptions." * 
 
 Commending' to the careful consideration of my 
 readers this social forecast of one of the most 
 accomplished and zealous of English '' advanced 
 thinkers," I proceed to inquire whether any need 
 for a new solution of what he calls "the sex pro- 
 blem" really exists. Mr, Karl Pearson, of course, 
 assumes that Christianity is hopelessly discredited. 
 Well, for the sake of argument, let us suppose that 
 this is so. Does it follow that the doctrine con- 
 cerning right and wrong in sexual relations, whi(;li, 
 as a matter of fact, the modern world has received 
 
 •? 
 
 Pp. 'iyi-i4;5. 
 
IX.] THE SOURCE OE (JHlilSTIAN MOliALITY. 211 
 
 from Christianity, is also cliscrGclited ? I reply, 
 Most certainly not. The ethics taught by Chris- 
 tianity are not, as Mr. John Morley somewhere calls 
 them, " a mere appendage to a set of theological 
 mysteries." They are independent of those mys- 
 teries,^ and would subsist to all eternity though 
 Christianity and every other religion should vanish 
 away. The moral law is ascertained, not from 
 the announcements of prophets, apostles, evangelists, 
 but, as I have insisted, at length, in a previous 
 chapter, from a natural and permanent revelation 
 of the reason. "Natural reason," says Suarez, in 
 his great treatise, De Le gibus, " indicates what is 
 in itself good or bad for man."* The great funda- 
 mental truths of ethics are necessary, like the great 
 fundamental truths of mathematics. They do not 
 proceed from the arbitrary will of God. They are 
 unchangeable, even by the fiat of the Omnipotent. 
 The moral precepts of Christianity do not derive 
 their validity from the Christian religion. They 
 are not a corollary from its theological creed. It 
 is mere matter of fact, j^atent to every one who 
 will look into his Bible, that Jesus Christ and his 
 apostles left no code of scientific ethics. The 
 Gos^^els and Epistles do not yield even the elements 
 of such a code. Certain it is that when, in the 
 expanding Christian society, the need arose for an 
 ethical synthesis, recourse was had to the inex- 
 
 * L. ii. c. 6, u. 8. 
 p 2 
 
212 THE ETHICS OF MABEIAGE. [ch. 
 
 haustible fountains of wisdom opened by the 
 Hellenic mind ; to those 
 
 " Melliriuons streams that watered all the schools 
 Of Academics, old and new ; with thcoC 
 Suniamed Peripatetics, and the sect 
 Epicurean, and the Stoic severe." 
 
 The clearness, the precision of psycliological 
 analysis, which distinguish the ethics of the Catholic 
 schools, are due more to Aristotle and Plato, than 
 to Hebrew prophets or Christian apostles. What 
 the Christian religion did for morality, was chiefly 
 to touch it with celestial fire, to vivify it by the 
 idea of self-sacrifice, and to point to tlie Supreme 
 Example of self-sacrifice; to enable man " to erect 
 himself above himself," by exhibiting a standard 
 of perfection, and by supplying supernatural motives 
 for the imitation of that standard. 
 
 So much concerning Christianity and ethics in 
 general. And now, of the ethics of marriage in 
 l^articular. The work of Christianity for mankind 
 is often spoken of as an emancipation. '' The 
 liberty wherewith Christ has made you free," says 
 St. Paul. That liberty results from the subjugation 
 of the lower self, the self of the passions and animal 
 nature; from the enfranchisement of the higher 
 self, of the rational, spiritual, divine element within 
 us. Herein lies the true progress of mankind. And 
 I claim for Christianity that it has been incompar- 
 ably the greatest factor in that progress: that it has 
 
IX.] CHRISTTANTTY AND WOMAN. 213 
 
 done more than aiiytliing else to vindicate the fact 
 and the rights of human personality^ '' Homo res 
 sacra homini." Why this sacredness ? Because 
 man is a person, not a mere animal. And what 
 Christianity has done, in this respect, for man, it 
 has done even more emphatically for woman. The 
 earliest form of marriage known to us — as Mr. 
 McLennan has sliown in a very learned chapter of 
 his well-known work, it seems to have prevailed 
 universally — was that in which the bride was 
 obtained by capture ; her volition counting for 
 nothing, her consent not even sought. Then, she 
 was accounted a mere chattel. Now, she is recog- 
 nised as a person ; her liberty inviolable ; her will 
 free; to be won, she must be wooed. Marriage 
 is accounted as a contract, subject to the ethical 
 rules that govern all contracts. Woman, like man, 
 has shared in that progress from status to contract 
 in which social development mainly consists, and 
 which Christianity has unquestionably done much 
 to forward. 
 
 But Christianity has done something more for 
 woman than merely to vindicate her personality. 
 I have elsewhere remarked that it changed men's 
 lives by changing their ideal of life. It is matter 
 of history how largely that ideal was influenced 
 by the ciiltus of tlie Virgin Mother : " the mother 
 of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of 
 holy hope." All that is most distinctive in Chris- 
 tian civilisation is bound up with its elevation of 
 
214 TEE ETEICS OF MABBIAGE\ [ch. 
 
 women. And not its least distinctive feature is 
 the value which it sets upon the virtue of chastity, 
 whether in the virginal or in the married state. 
 The conception idealised in the Madonna would 
 have been absolutely unintelligible to the ancients. 
 " Born of a woman " is the true account of the 
 modern "home," with all its moralising influences. 
 We may indeed say that the peculiarity specially 
 differentiating the Christian from the pre-Christian 
 family is that it is founded on woman, not on 
 man. 
 
 Marriage is something more than a mere con- 
 tract. We may put aside the ecclesiastical view 
 of it. We may reject altogether the considerations 
 which led St. Paul to call it /xeya [xvcrTiqpiov, a great 
 sacrament. Quite apart from that view, from those 
 considerations, we must so account of it. For 
 it is a symbol of the mystery whereby our spiritual 
 life is joined to our bodily frames. Nay, it is 
 more than that. It is the outward, visible, pre- 
 eminently sensuous means whereby we attain to 
 the inward spiritual grace of the purest joys, the 
 most unselfish afl'ections, that this world offers. It is, 
 so to speak, a natural sacrament, of which the husband 
 and the wife are the ministers. It is the accom- 
 plishment of the man's manhood and of the woman's 
 womanhood, the blending of two personalities in a 
 social organism embracing their whole existences, 
 '4io longer twain but one." But tlie personalities, 
 though equal, are diverse. We speak of the '' dis- 
 
IX.] TET] OLD FLATONIC FABLE. 215 
 
 abilities " of woman's sex ; and rightly. There are 
 disabilities which result from the corporal confor- 
 mation of woman ; there arc limits fixed by her 
 physical constitution ; there are, and there always 
 must be, fundamental differences between her 
 habitual occupations and those of men. More, 
 there are far-reacliing psychical differences. The 
 old Platonic fable that the woman is the other 
 half of tiic man, is profoundly true. She is the 
 complement of him, and he of her. 
 
 " He is the half part of a blessed man 
 Left to be finished by such as rdic ; 
 And she, a fair divided excellence 
 Whose fulness of perfection lies in him." 
 
 Fecundity is the special gift of womanhood. Nor 
 is maternity its' only, or its chief, manifestation. 
 The wife is "the fountain of life" in the house- 
 hold ; her function is to renew, to reanimate, to 
 revivify her consort in the struggle for existence, 
 the battle of life. It has been well observed by 
 Michelet: ''La mission de la femme (plus que la 
 generation meme) c'est de refaire le coeur de I'homme. 
 Protegee, nourrie par lui, elle le nourrit d'amour. 
 L'amour c'est son travail propre." * The whole 
 matter has been summed up by one whom I must 
 account the most philosophical of living poets, 
 and the most poetical of living philosophers. And 
 
 f U Amour, p. 17. 
 
216 THE ETHICS OF MAEBIAGE. [ch. 
 
 familiar as his lines are, they will bear citation 
 here : 
 
 " For woman is not nndevclopt man 
 Eut diverse ; could we make her as the man. 
 Sweet love were slain : his dearest bond is this, 
 Not like to like, but like in difference. 
 Distinct in individualities, 
 But like each other ev'n as those who love." 
 
 If such be the true ideal of marriage, what are 
 its ethics? I have already observed that as a 
 contract it is governed by those great principles 
 prescribed by reason, for the regulation of obliga- 
 tions which touch the merely material interests of 
 life. As a state of life, involving the fusion of 
 personalities so distinct, and fraught with conse- 
 quences most momentous to both, and to society, 
 its unity and indissolubility issue from the nature 
 of things in their ethical relations. Its basis is in 
 the Absolute : ' 
 
 '' Sich hinzugeben ganz und eine "Wonne 
 Zu fiihlen, die ewig sein muss !" 
 
 What means that thought of eternity which is 
 ever present when men and women love their 
 deepest and truest ? It means that the transient 
 intoxication of passion is justified to reason by its 
 place in the eternal order of the universe. Let us 
 consider this for a moment. The moral law is a 
 principle of self-realisation. Its imperious dictate, 
 the categorical imperative of duty, arises from the 
 
IX.] THE DIVINE ORIGINAL. " 217 
 
 relation of reason to itself, as its own end. Ethical 
 action is the achievement by the self-conscious indi- 
 vidual of the true purpose of his being, the bringing* 
 his will into hariiiony with that Universal Reason 
 of which the moral law is the expression. It was 
 to the moral law — a part of that law of nature which 
 is the ideal pattern, ever to be kept before us — that 
 the Divine Founder of Christianity appealed wdien 
 He formulated His doctrine of marriaire. The 
 Mosaic legislation witnessed to the sanctity of the 
 nuptial bond. But imperfectly. Not on every 
 light occasion, on every frivolous pretext, did tlie 
 Hebrew prophet allow a man to put away his wife. 
 No. There must be a public process ; there must 
 be recourse to legal ministers, presumably wise and 
 prudent men, who, before drawing up the instru- 
 ment necessary for the separation, might reasonably 
 be expected to counsel reconciliation. But Christ 
 recurs to the divine original, to the ideal pattern 
 of the institution, "from the beginning" in the 
 counsels of Eternal Reason. " A man shall cleave 
 to his wife ; " " they twain shall be one flesh." So 
 close a union is " for better, for worse, for richer, 
 for poorer," till death dissolves it. And we may 
 here note, in passing, that as animated existence 
 advances in the scale of being, it tends instinctively 
 to this life-long union, the onl}^ considerable ex- 
 ception among the higher vertebrates — an exception 
 which admits of explanation— being afforded by 
 dogs. Such is the ideal which the august juris- 
 
218 THE ETHICS OF MABBIAGE. [ch. 
 
 prudence of Rome lias enslirined for us in the 
 Digest : " Nuptise sunt conjunctio maris et feminse, 
 ct consortium omnis vitse ; divini et hamani juris 
 conmiunicatio." That, as the great jurisconsult 
 discerned, was the true norm of marriage, however 
 void in practice the license of his age might make it. 
 Nothing short of tliis norm, of this ideal, is 
 adequate. And only where it is recognised, is the 
 position of woman established on the true ethical 
 basis. Feeble, loving, dependent, without this 
 bulwark of indissolubility, this consortium onmis 
 vltcs, she is ill assured against the vacillations of 
 man's changing fanc}^, the caprices of his lawless 
 appetite. And upon her position depends the 
 family, depends society, depends civilisation in all 
 that gives it moral dignity and worth. Let me, 
 in this connection, quote some words of Michelet, 
 the force and beauty of which would vanish in 
 translation : 
 
 " La femmc est dans toute I'liistoiro relement de fixite. Le bon 
 sens dit assoz pourquoi. Non seuloment parcc qu'elle est mere, 
 qu'elle est le fo3'er, la maison, mais parce qu'elle met dans I'associa- 
 tion une mise disproportionnee, enornie, en compavaison de cclle de 
 rimmnie. Elle s'y met toute et sans retour. La plus simple 
 compreud bleu que tout cliangement est contre elle ; qu'en change- 
 ant elle baissc tres vite ; que du premier homme au second, elle 
 perd dejii cent pour cent. Et qu'est ce done au troisienic? que 
 sera-ce au dixieme ? helas ! " * 
 
 Shall I be told this is the language of poetry ? I 
 might well reply, with Plato, that poetry comes 
 
 * UAinour, p. 32. 
 
IX.] CONSORTIUM OMNIS VITyE. 219 
 
 nearest to vital truth. I will, however, rite another 
 witness, who is by no means open to the reproach of 
 sentiment. The following* are the remarks of Hume, 
 the least emotional of philosophers: 
 
 "We need not be afriiid of drawhu'' the niai-riaare-knot . . . the 
 closest possible. The amity between the persons, Avhere it is solid 
 and sincere, will ratlier gain by it ; and where it is wav^eriiig and 
 uncertain, that is the best expedient for fixing it. How many 
 frivolons quarrels and disgusts are there, which people of common 
 prudence endeavour to forget, when tliey lie under the necessity of 
 passing their lives together ; but whicli would soon be inflamed 
 into the most deadly hatred, were they pursued to the utmost, 
 under the prospect nf an easy separation ! . . . We must consider, 
 that nothing is more dangerous than to unite two persons so 
 closely in all their interests and concerns, as man and wife, without 
 rendering the union entire and total. The least possibility of a 
 separate interest must be the source of endless quarrels and sus- 
 picions. The wife, not secure of her establishment, will still be 
 driving some separate end or project ; and the husband's selfishness, 
 being accompanied with more power, may be still more dangerous." * 
 
 The gist of tlie whole matter has been presented 
 in a dozen words by one whom I must account, not 
 only the greatest artist in romantic fiction, but the 
 2^rofoundest master of the social sciences, that the 
 world has ever known. '' Nothing more conclu- 
 sively jiroves the necessity of indissoluble marriage 
 than the instability of passion." Of the many wise 
 utterances of Balzac on the philosophy of life, this, 
 surely, is one of the wisest. 
 
 So much must suffice concerning tliis most 
 
 * Essen/ on Polygamy and Divorce. 
 
220 THE ETHICS OF MARRIAGE. [ch. 
 
 momentous question of the ethics of marriage. 
 
 Shall I be told that it is a hard saying — that the 
 
 ideal is too perfect ? But perfection is the supreme 
 
 law of ethics, as of aesthetics. It baffles ? Yes ; 
 
 but it inspires also. It is always unattainable ? 
 
 True ; but we may indefinitely approximate to it. 
 
 He who said, '' Be ye perfect," knew what was in 
 
 man. Men will live and die for perfection. For 
 
 mediocrity they will neither live nor die. The idea 
 
 of perfection is the source of all greatness in private 
 
 life, no less than in the public order; in "the 
 
 daily round, the common task," no less than in art 
 
 and poetry and philosophy. Let the perfect ideal 
 
 of indissoluble marriage be once definitively rejected, 
 
 and Western civilisation will inevitably fall back to 
 
 that wallowing in the mire from which Christianity 
 
 rescued it. And in whatever degree you tamper 
 
 with this ideal, and derogate from its strictness, in 
 
 that degree do you demoralise woman. Yes, and 
 
 man too ; for assuredl}^ he speedily sinks to her 
 
 level — KaKTJs yvvaiKO<; dvSpa yiyveaOai KaKOv. The 
 
 moral tone of society, I say, depends upon the 
 
 chastity of woman. And the chastity of woman 
 
 de23ends upon the absolute character of marriage. 
 
 But here, as elsewhere, the philosophy of relativity 
 
 seeks to banish the absolute. It degrades the 
 
 indissoluble state of matrimony to a mere dissoluble 
 
 contract, to a mere regulation of social pollc}', to a 
 
 mere material fact, governed by the animal, not the 
 
 rational, nature. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ETHICS OF AET.* 
 
 One of the i^roblems which I have most constantly 
 had before me, in my poor historical researches, has 
 been, how best to seize the moral physiognomy of 
 an epocli. I have found the greatest help for the 
 solution of that problem, not in the formal theo- 
 logical treatises nor in the set philosophical discus- 
 sions of any age, but in its art — taking the word 
 in the widest sense. There is no accessorv of 
 human life which is void of ethical significance ; 
 and, as a general rule, tlie details which are the 
 minutest, the most trifling, are also the most 
 significant, because they tell their tale uncon- 
 sciously, spontaneously. The things which we 
 
 * I put aside, in this chapter, the art of music, as being inde- 
 pendent of tlie practical reason. It may well be that each feeling 
 of humanity expresses itself by a different musical tone, as the 
 Greeks believed. (See the curious passage in the Third Book of 
 Plato's Republic.) But tlie feelings, qua feelings, are neitlier 
 moral nor immoral. They are unmoral. //It is only when music is 
 unit ed to words, th at it comes within the domain of ethics.//' ^ A 
 
222 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 take pleasure in contemplating, the streets, tlic 
 bouses, the very furniture and raiment in which 
 we live and move and have our being, are so many 
 revelations of us. The hidden man of the heart 
 leaves his impress upon every particular of external 
 existence. Man is an artistic animal in a very 
 special sense. The creatures lower than ourselves 
 in the scale of sentient existence manifest, indeed, 
 wonderful skill and intelligence. They are artists. 
 But must we not say that they are unconscious 
 artists? They know. They remember. "They 
 reason not contemptibly," Milton thought. But do 
 they possess that intellectual faculty of reflection, 
 that ixvyjfjir) avvOeriKrj of which man makes such vast 
 use? And how far can they forecast the future? A 
 bird's nest is a miracle of workmanship. But is 
 the bird of a year old prescient of the eggs for 
 whicli it builds ? It can hardly be that such 
 knowledge guides its activity. A captive beaver 
 constructs the dam whicli can be of no possible 
 service to it. Again, I am far from denying that 
 the feeling of beauty penetrates to the animal 
 world, and is a vivifying and sustaining principle 
 there. But it is like the knowledge of the animal 
 world, half realised, indeliberate, " without a con- 
 science and an aim." Of num it has been said, and 
 truly, " L'art est sa nature mcine." And of no 
 other animal can this be said, in the full sense of 
 the words. 
 
 What, then, does the art of the nineteenth 
 
X.] " realism:' 223 
 
 centuiy tell us of the men and women of the 
 century ? Survey the crowds who hurry through 
 the streets of our cities. I su2)pose it may with 
 truth be said, that in proportion as they belong to 
 the century, and reflect its ethos, they become less 
 and less aesthetic. In out-of-the-way corners of 
 the world, beauty still lingers in connnon life. It 
 appears to be a special function of nineteenth- 
 century civilisation to banish the picturesque. Can 
 anything be more hideous than the garments in 
 which we swathe ourselves, except, indeed, it be 
 the dwellings in which we live ? Consider the 
 architecture of the age, its own proper style, as 
 exemplified in the domestic edifices Avliieh line our 
 streets. Has the world ever witnessed anything 
 like their monotonous meanness ? And that, be it 
 remembered, is the real architecture of the century. 
 All our more ambitious structures are imitations 
 — successful in proportion as they are exact copies 
 — of buildings of former ages. Let us turn to 
 another of the fine arts. Walk through any 
 collection of paintings of the day, say the Exhibi- 
 tion of the Eoyal Academy in London or the 
 French Salon. What do the Avorks which hang upon 
 the walls speak of ? Here is a picture which reveals 
 skill of hand. Tliere is one which manifests power 
 of execution. Fantastic, sentimental, realistic, am- 
 bitious, are the most laudatory adjectives which arc 
 wont to occur to us as we pass the medley of naked 
 goddesses and unclothed womeU; the landscapes 
 
224 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 and the j^ortraits, the genre scenes and the historical 
 panoramas. It has been well remarked that in the 
 pictures of tlie old masters you have not merely a 
 natural scene, but the soul of the painter wlio 
 looked upon it. That attribute of soul is precisely 
 what is wanting in modern art. I speak generally, 
 and would of course allow exceptions. I reverence 
 tlie sombre greatness and pathetic power of Turner, 
 " the artist of the labour and sorrow and passing 
 away of men." I am ever more and more im- 
 2)ressed by the divinatory faculty and creative 
 skill of Landseer, who j^robably saw more deeply 
 into the souls of the '^ brute creation " — as it is the 
 fashion to call our poor relations — than any painter 
 that ever lived. Tliey are gone : and how many 
 successors have they left ? All that our artists, 
 whether painters or sculptors, usually aim at — there 
 are indeed some among them who are the witnesses 
 for and, I trust, the precursors of better things — is 
 to copy exactly, to reproduce phenomena, to de- 
 scribe with minute exactitude and ever-increasin": 
 freedom, the obvious, the superficial, which in most 
 cases is the vulgar, the gross, the ignoble. They 
 are, in Charles Lamb's phrase, " deeply cor- 
 porealised, and enchained hopelessly in the grovel- 
 ling fetters of externality." And tin's they call 
 •'realism." The taste of the age, they tell us, 
 demands reality. And such is their conception af 
 the real. In its deep, paralysed subjection to 
 physical objects, art seeks to make itself what is 
 
X.] THE IDEAL. 225 
 
 called '^ scientific." It aims at speaking to tlie 
 senses by precise delineation of the physical form, 
 by accurate presentment of the passions of which 
 that form is the instrmiient. And here it achieves 
 a certain measure of success. By technical perfec- 
 tion, by audacities of the brush, it manages to tell 
 its tale plainly, especially if, as not seldom happens, 
 the tale is spiced with a flavour of lubricity. But it 
 speaks merely to the senses. It leaves nothing in 
 the mind for fancy to feed upon. One looks and 
 passes by, and the image vanishes, even as a dream 
 wlien one awaketh. Barren in nobleness and void 
 of dignity, the arts of design, as they exist among 
 us, proclaim that " glory and loveliness have passed 
 away" from common life. ''Nobleness and dig- 
 nity ! " I suppose no one, in the least competent 
 to judge, would maintain, that the miles of canvas 
 Avhich have hung upon the walls of exhibitions of 
 modern paintings, from the opening of the century 
 to the present time, display as much of those 
 divine gifts as the smallest work that has come 
 down to us from Francia or Perugino. 
 
 Now why is this ? It is, I apprehend, because, 
 as Mr. Lecky has told us in his History of 
 nationalism, there is in the present day ''a decline 
 in tlie more poetical or religious aspects of man's 
 nature." But poetry and religion mean inspira- 
 tion and life. They mean that ideal which is tlie 
 root of all greatness whatever, in thought or action. 
 The fine arts, as they exist among us, bear witness 
 
 Q 
 
220 THE ETHICS OE ART. [ch. 
 
 only too clear and decisive, to the deidealising of 
 life. It has been remarked by a tlioughtful critic : 
 " L'art se calqiiant suv nous est devenu bourgeois. 
 Dans quelle haute region eut-il pen^tre, alors que 
 tout tend vers la mediocrite des sentiments, et vers 
 I'apathie morale d'une societe gorgee de material- 
 isme ? Ce qu'un poete a dit de I'historien d'une 
 fabuleuse histoire, que son recit n'a pas de ciel, on 
 pent le dire de notre epoque en general : la 
 hauteur et la profondeur lui manquent, elle n'a pas 
 de perspective ideale." Precisely. We have lost 
 the ideal perspective. We have lost that very 
 conception of the Absolute which is in truth the 
 source and fount of glory and loveliness ; that 
 Absolute which is the True, the Good, the Beautiful; 
 whereof all truth, goodness, and beauty of which 
 we have knowledge, are but the faint emanations, 
 the dim shadows. " What we call truth," according 
 to Mr, Spencer, " is but the accurate correspond- 
 ence of subjective to objective relations," The 
 philosophy of relativity, interpreting and synthe- 
 sising the thought dimly working in the general 
 mind, empties truth of its old meaning. It de- 
 rationalises art, as it derationalises ethics. It ban- 
 ishes the essential element of objectivity alike from 
 our knowledge of what is right and from our love 
 of what is beautiful. It conceives of ethics as 
 artificial rules, deduced from immemorial experi- 
 ences of utility, and transmitted by heredity. It 
 conceives of art as mere mechanism for the pro- 
 
X.] THE ROOT OF ART. 227 
 
 duction of its stimmum bonum, "agreeable feeling;" 
 '^ a casual coincidence of picturesque attitudes and 
 sensations, passing with tlie passage of the moment 
 which gives them birth, and owing their origin to 
 time and climate, to national character and cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 And now let me set down what T believe to be 
 the true theory of art — the theory which, con- 
 sciously or unconsciously, has inspired every great 
 artist who ever lived. I do not know who has 
 better formulated it tliau Kant in a pregnant 
 passage of his Critique of Jiidgjiient : " Only the 
 productions of liberty, that is, of a volition which 
 founds its actions upon reason, ought properly to 
 be called art." It was observed by Groethe that to 
 read Kant is like going into a lighted room. What 
 an illumination is thrown upon the whole subject of 
 aesthetics by these few words of his ! Here is 
 brought out, for example, tliat profound difference 
 between human and animal art, upon which I 
 touched at the beginning of this chapter. In that 
 endowment which is distinctive of man (although 
 I am far from denying that the foreshadowings, 
 the presentiments, of it may be found in the 
 lower animals), in that '' capability and god-like 
 reason " which is his o-reat S'ood, is the root of art. 
 As I observed, in a previous page, "the artist, like 
 the philosopher, seeks the reason and essence of 
 
 Q2 
 
228 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 things. But, wliile to the philosopher this reason 
 and essence are revealed in a principle, in a general 
 conce2)tion, to the artist they are revealed in a 
 concrete form, as individual beauty." The object 
 of the human intellect is truth. And truth means 
 being, or that which is. The notion of being, as a 
 reality existing by itself, underlies all others in our 
 intelligence. To this idea of the Absolute all our in- 
 tellectual operations have relation. All our sciences, 
 all our arts, hold of it, and can have no rational 
 meaning apart from it. To know it in one of its 
 attributes, or to express it in one of the modes 
 permitted to human thought, is the end of science 
 as of art. But science may rest within, in the 
 state of pure idea. Art is the external manifesta- 
 tion of the idea, the revelation of the invisible 
 reality through the senses. It is " eternity looking 
 through time." Does any one among my readers 
 find this a hard saying ? Does the expression, 
 " invisible reality," offend him ? Let him consider 
 that even in material nature the most real, because 
 the most energetic, the most intense forces, are 
 precisely the imponderable, which, for the most 
 part, are imperceptible to sense. Let him meditate 
 upon this awhile, and then perhaps he will bear 
 with me when I say that the idea which we have in 
 us of the Infinite, the Absolute, corresponds to the 
 only true and positive reality, whereof phenomena 
 are merely the gross shadows. The real being of 
 a thing is not in itself, as a phenomenon, but in the 
 
X.] ''NOT IMITATION BUT CREATION." 229 
 
 ideal which causes it to be what it is. And that 
 ideal is the true reality for art and the type of its 
 representations. Emerson well puts it : 
 
 '• In the fine arts, not imitatiou but creation is the aim. In 
 landscapes the painter should give the suggestion of a fairer 
 creation than we know. The details, the prose of nature, he 
 should omit, and give us only the spirit and splendour. . . . He 
 will give the gloom of the gloom, and the sunshine of the sunshine. 
 In a portrait he will inscribe the character, and not the features, and 
 must esteem the man who sits to him as himself only an imperfect 
 picture or likeness of the aspiring original within." * 
 
 In proportion as a picture truly realises this end 
 will it be a veritable work of art. For what is the 
 difference between a good portrait and a photo- 
 graph ? AVhat but this, that the painter seizes the 
 expression of the sitter, which the mechanic cannot 
 do ? The construction of the bodily frame, the 
 tint of the skin, the movements of the muscles, the 
 23lay of the features, reveal to him psychological 
 secrets. He discerns the permanent and constituent 
 elements of the individual cliaracter. He creates 
 in his mind an invisible model of his subject, and 
 reproduces it with his brush. A picture is a work 
 of art precisely in proportion to the quantity of 
 the invisible, of the ideal which it contains. It is a 
 dictum of Goethe: "This is true ideality — the 
 ideality which loves to make use of the material 
 presented to it by nature in such a fashion that the 
 ideal truth thus embodied, the matter and the 
 spirit, is accepted as the actual." 
 
 * Essays, p. 287 (Macmillan's Ed.). 
 
230 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 Thus must vve think of art, not as a superfluity 
 for the amusement of idle dilettantism, but as a 
 most august, a most precious, and most important 
 good of human life. Not common truth, not vul- 
 gar reality, is the ol)ject of art. No. Its object is 
 ideal loveliness discerned by the artist in " the high 
 reason of his fancies." His elevated and elevating 
 function it is, in the words of Plato, " to seek out, 
 by the power of genius, the nature of the fair and 
 graceful" : " to win men, imperceptibly, into resem- 
 blance, love, and harmony with rational beauty." 
 Art is the tongue of the ideal. It is an economy or 
 accommodation whereby transcendental verities are 
 made accessible to us. It is symbolic, figurative, 
 taking us more or less near by means of images 
 to the Supreme Reality, which eye hath not seen 
 nor ear heard. And it is precisely because man is 
 not, as the philosophy of relativity teaches, the 
 *' mere passive result of outward impressions," but 
 self-determined and therefore partaker of the Divine 
 Infinity, that art, in the true and high sense of the 
 word, appeals to him at all. 
 
 '•■ Wiir' nicht das Ange sonnenliaft, 
 Wie kbnnten wir das Licht evblickcn ? 
 Lebt' nicht in uns der Gottheit eig'ne Kraft, 
 Wie koniite uns das Gbttlichc entziicken ? " 
 
 If this is the true conception of art, it is easy to 
 understand what ethical laws should govern it. 
 
X.J THE LAW OF PERFECTION. 231 
 
 Beauty and morality spring from the same eternal 
 fount; they are an expression of the same im- 
 mutable truth. They are different sides or aspects 
 of the same thing — of reason, order, harmony, right. 
 To this language itself bears witness. We use the 
 same adjectives to describe ethical and physical ex- 
 cellence. We speak of a fair maiden and a fair 
 deed, of a foul nmrder and a foul way. In ethics, 
 as in aesthetics, order, proportion, comeliness are 
 instinctively discerned by us as good. Desire for the 
 noble or beautiful, which is the fundamental idea of 
 art, is also, Aristotle teaches, the basis of all moral- 
 ity, the common element of all the virtues. Tou 
 Kokov eVe/ca' koivov yo.p tovto rats dperoLS. Tlie idea of 
 perfection is a category of the intellect. It is a law 
 supreme over every department of human activity, 
 prescribing " the direction of a man's will to 
 the highest possible realisation of his faculties." 
 Do not misunderstand me. It is not the function 
 of the artist to preach morality, to inculcate virtue. 
 The laws of art are proper to itself. And they are 
 the laws of beauty. But the beautiful is of the 
 intellect, not of the senses, which merely supply 
 the artist Avith his raw material. The eyes are 
 onl}^ instruments of vision through which the 
 soul looks. ^Esthetic enjoyment is the reflection of 
 an inner light or sj^lendour from our reason upon 
 material objects. The end of the intellect, let me 
 repeat, is truth. And in words which, though not 
 Plato's, to whom they are often ascribed, are as 
 
232 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 fidmirable as hackneyed, the "beautiful is the 
 s^^lendour of the true." 
 
 " But the passions," it may be said, " surely you 
 do not exclude them from the domain of art ? " I 
 reply in words which I am glad to borrow from the 
 most considerable philosopher who has arisen in 
 England since Coleridge : " Not in themselves, but 
 only as absorbed in will, or thought, or spiritualised 
 nature — only either as issuing in heroic act or as 
 making way in collision with each other and destiny 
 for a peace that is not in them, or as breathed into 
 the life of nature and from it taking beauty and 
 repose — are the passions fit material for art at all." * 
 Or, to put more shortly what is thus admirably ex- 
 pressed by the late Professor Green, in a work of 
 art everything depends upon the ethos. Is the 
 impression left upon a healthy mind, sensuous or 
 spiritual ? That is the test. I say, " upon a healtliy 
 mind." " If Miranda is immoral to Caliban, is 
 that Miranda's fault ? " Mr. Herbert Spencer some- 
 where remarks upon the effect produced by putting 
 a bonnet upon an antique statue of Venus undraped. 
 The result is unquestionabl}^ obscene. Why ? Be- 
 cause the obscenity was in the nude statue itself, 
 which only required the addition of a bonnet to be 
 discerned in its true character ? No. As Mr. 
 Spencer very properly observes, the true conclusion 
 is. not that in the statue itself there was anything 
 
 * Worlc8 of T. H. Green, vol. iii. p, 15. 
 
X.] THE NUDE. 233 
 
 of obscene suggestion, but that this effect was purely 
 adventitious ; the bonnet, connected in daily expe- 
 rience with living women, calling m^ the thought 
 of a living woman with the head dressed, but other- 
 wise naked. Tliis question of the nude may serve 
 admirably to illustrate further what I am insisting 
 upon. Nudity in a work of art is perfectly inno- 
 cent if ideally beautiful. Schopenhauer has well 
 noted the difference between the treatment of 
 nudity by the artists of ancient Hellas, and by a 
 certain school of artists in contem^^orary Europe. 
 These modern painters and sculptors, he points out, 
 produce "nude figures wliose posture, drapery, and 
 general treatment tend to excite the passions of the 
 beholder; and thus pure sesthetical contemplation 
 is at once aimihilated, and the aim of art is de- 
 feated. The ancients are almost always free from 
 this fault in their representations of naked loveli- 
 ness, because they pursued their creative work in a 
 pure objective spirit, tilled with ideal beaut}^, not in 
 the spirit of subjective base sensuality." * "Ideal 
 beauty." Yes. Pruriency in aesthetics proceeds 
 not from imagination but from the lack of it. The 
 ideal is the principle of all true art, as of everything 
 high and worthy in human life. 
 
 " Of all true art," and not merely of tliose arts of 
 design of which I have been writing. Art — all art 
 — is essentially one, and is everywhere subject to 
 
 * Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellun(j, Book iii. § 40. 
 
234 THE ETHICS OE ART. [ch. 
 
 tlie same great laws, the same immutable principles. 
 I suppose in this century it appeals to the greatest 
 number of men and women under the form of litera- 
 ture. Poetry, the drama, and romantic fiction 
 — which is really a development of the drama, for 
 what is tlie modern novel but an unacted play ? — fill 
 a large space in the lives of multitudes who never 
 look upon a picture or a statue. I say, then, that 
 the poet, the dramatist, and the novelist are bound 
 by the same ethical rules as the painter. They, 
 too, are ministers of the ideal. Their function is to 
 present, amid the sordid realities of daily life, the 
 image of a fairer and better world ; to minister to 
 that love of beauty and goodness which dwells in 
 all men. I am far from saving- that the novelist 
 (let me, for the sake of brevity, speak of him only) 
 should be a cloud-painter, a preacher of moral 
 sermons dealing with indivldua vaga., with untrue 
 types ; that he should lose sight of things as they 
 are. No ; the novel should be a picture of actual 
 life, of every-day reality, subject to that great rule 
 so admirably formulated by George Sand — would 
 that she had always followed it ! — " Let the literary 
 artist choose in the real what is worth painting." 
 He will depict life truly, I say ; he will not put 
 darkness for light nor light for darkness, but will 
 give us the darkness and light as they are. The 
 passions are his legitimate subjects ; the most im- 
 perious of all, the passion of love, is his chief and 
 
X.] THE ULTIMATE TEST. 235 
 
 most attractive theme. But, if I may quote words 
 of my own, written elsewhere : 
 
 " LoA'e is not to liim what it is to the physiologist, a mere unimal 
 impulse which man has in common with moths and moUusca. His 
 task is to extract from human life, even in its commonest aspects, 
 its most vulgar realities, wliat it contains of secret beauty ; to lift 
 it to the level of art, not to degrade art to its level. And so he is 
 concerned with this most potent and universal instinct, as trans- 
 formed, in greater or less degree, by the imaginative faculty ; 
 whether dealing with it in Its illicit manifestations, he exhibits it 
 as the blight and bane of life, or depicts it in its pure and Avorthy 
 expression — ' the bulwark of patience, the tutor of honour, the per- 
 fectness of praise.' His ^^7^05 comes out in the treatment of his 
 subject rather than in his personages, his plot, or his denouement. 
 It is easy to conceive of a work of fiction in which all the characters 
 should be evil, but which should be severely ethical in its tone. An 
 liour passed in Dante's Inferno does but intensify our longing to 
 enter his Paradiso."* 
 
 -And so Goethe, in vindication of his own novel, 
 Elective Affinities : " The true poet is only a 
 masked father confessor, whose special function is 
 to exhibit what is dangerous in sentiment and per- 
 nicious in action by a vivid picture of their conse- 
 quences." Whether it is informed by any high 
 thought, any true ideal, is the ultimate ethical test 
 in judging of a work of romantic fiction, as in judg- 
 ing of that social life whereof it is the " counter- 
 feit presentment." Banish the ideal from the life 
 of men, and by the operation of the inexorable law, 
 " corruptio optimi pessima," men will sink below 
 
 * ^1 Centuri/ of Revolution, p. IGO. 
 
2y6 THE ETHICS OF ART. [ch. 
 
 tlie level of the lower animals, and will love the 
 abnormal, the monstrous, the deformed, for its own 
 sake. Such is the natural fruit of that philosophy 
 which rejects the only rational conceptions of Right 
 and Wrong, and degrades to the region of molecular 
 physics, conceptions properly appertaining to tlie 
 domain of the organic and the spiritual. Examples 
 are not far to seek. And they are the sure signs 
 of a decadent and effete civilisation. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 A portion of Chapters I. and II. of this work 
 appeared in the Fortnightly Review of November, 
 188G, under the title '' Materialism and lloraliti/.'^ 
 In the next number of the Heview, IProfessor Huxley, 
 in an article called " Science and Ilorals," took 
 exception to certain observations of mine regarding 
 his pliilosophical tenets and teaching. As I find 
 mij self unable, in the p)resent volume, to 'withdraw 
 those observations, it seems right to reprint here 
 the following pages, publislied originally in the 
 EoRTNiGiiTLY liEViEW of February, 1887. 
 
 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS : A REJOINDER 
 TO PROFESSOR HUXLEY. 
 
 Professor Huxley, in his article Science and Morals, in the 
 
 December nnmber of this Review, desiderates "an exjjlana- 
 
 tion " ^~ of tlie " theory of his tenets " f expressed in ni}'- 
 
 paper, Materialism and Morality, published in November. 
 
 In proceeding to comply with the requisition of, I will not 
 
 say mj opponent, but my critic, I shall endeavour to be as 
 
 little polemical as possible. To skill in controversy I make 
 
 no pretence. And if I possessed it, assuredly I should not 
 
 * P. 792. My references throughout the Appendix, unless it is 
 otherwise expressly stated, are to vol. xlvi. of the Furtni<jldhi Review. 
 t P. 788. 
 
238 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 clioose to exercise it against Professor Huxley. I firmly 
 believe that, as he had said, wc have both at heart the interests 
 of the same sacred cause : that Ave may both uufeignedly 
 declare " seu vetus est verum, diligo sive novum," however 
 widely our convictions as to what is true, may differ. 
 
 Before 1 turn to the point in Professor Huxley's strictures 
 specially requiring attention from me, I must say a word or 
 two as to my own article Avhich elicited them. The Professor 
 represents me as having proceeded " after the manner of a 
 medieval disputant." I can conceive of nothing less medieval 
 than my paper on Materialism and Morality^ either in form or 
 in thought. Professor Huxley, who quotes St. Thomas Aquinas 
 — although with some misapprehension of his meaning"^ — must 
 
 * The first of the two ^jassages quoted by Professor Huxley from 
 St. Thomas Aquinas is, " Ratio autem alicujus fiendi in mente actoris 
 existens est quffidani prajexistentia rei fiendaj in eo." "This," the 
 Professor says, " puts the whole case [for Determinism] in a nutshelh 
 The ground for doing a thing in the mind of the doer is, as it were, 
 the pre-existence of the thing done." But that is not what Aquinas 
 means. He means that you cannot do a thing unless you have an 
 ideal conception of it as doable. 
 
 The second, which Professor Huxley also considers an excellent 
 " statement of the case for Deternunism," runs as follows : — 
 
 " Omnia quiB sunt in tempore, sunt Deo ab icterno prtesentia, non 
 solum ea ex ratitme qua habet rationes rerum apud se presentes, ut 
 quidam dicunt, sed quia ejus intuitus fertur ab asterno supra onmia, 
 prout sunt in sua prpesentialitate. Unde manifestum est quod contin- 
 gentia iiifallibiliter a Deo cognoscuntur , in (juantum subduntur divino 
 conspectui secundum suam preesentialitatem ; et tanien sunt futura 
 contingentia, suis causis proximis coniparata." 
 
 This is a commonplace of the schools. "Futura contingentia" 
 means free acts ; and all Catholic theologians agree that they are 
 infallibly foreknown. But they are foreknown as free, and cannot be 
 predetermined by Absolute Power in any way that would destroy 
 this freedom. Professor Huxley — no doubt unwittingly — cuts 
 Aquinas's doctrine in halves, and adopts the half which suits him. 
 Of the passage cited by Professor Huxley from the De Civitate it must 
 suffice to say that St. Augustine means not an inevitable fate but a 
 "wise" Providence. 
 
APPENDIX.] yl REJOIN DER TO FHOE. JTUXLEY. 2r,0 
 
 be well aware how scholastic disputations were, and are still, 
 conducted. I suppose, therefore, that I may regard tin's 
 description of my dialectics as a mere harmless pleasantry, 
 introduced to season a grave discussion. I may remark in 
 passing that great gain would accrue if a little of the exact 
 method of the schools could be introduced into the aro-umenis 
 upon momentous subjects which from time to time find place 
 in our leading Reviews. " The rigorous definition, careful 
 analysis, precise classification," the absence of which I de- 
 plored in my last contribution to these pages, woidd soon 
 make an end of much loose thinkino; and looser writino-. Of 
 course no one would number Professor Huxley among loose 
 thinkers or loose writers. Still, in matter of fact, his article 
 might supply more than one instance to justify this view of 
 mine. Thus the remark — perhaps he would call it a thesis — 
 in my paper* that Materialism, in all its schools, is led to 
 deny free will, is treated by the Professor | as though it were 
 equivalent to the assertion that every school which denies free 
 will is Materialistic. He has " converted " my proposition 
 Avrongly by universalising the predicate. Again, he uses the 
 word " spontaneity " in a sense quite peculiar to himself 
 " The term, if it has any meaning at all," he asserts, " means 
 imcaused action." t This is really an astounding statement. 
 I will only remark upon it, pace tanti viri, that "spontaneity" 
 unquestionably has a meaning in philosophy; and that, as 
 unquestionably, "uncaused action " is not what it means. I 
 know that the precise terminology of the schools is impossible 
 in writino-s Avhich are addres.sed to " the general reader." 
 We must adopt popular modes of speech when Ave appeal to 
 the unscientific tribunal of public opinion. The problem for 
 those of us who think we have somethino- to teach the world, 
 is to translate our pliiloso))hy into the world's language. It 
 
 * P. 585. t P- 709-800. t P- 798. 
 
240 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 is a problem wliicli can never be completely solved. Identity 
 between the vulo-ar and the scientific vesture of ideas is im- 
 possible. But assuredly the translator ad 2)opiilnm is not 
 warranted in imposing a brand-new sense of his own upon 
 technical terms of well-understood significance- 
 Such, at all events, is the rule which I myself have fol- 
 lowed, as in my other writings, so in my article, Materialism 
 and Morality. The argument of the paper was briefly this : 
 that " the invalidation of the moral code, the ])revalence of 
 ethical Agnosticism, scepticism as to all first principles," are 
 unmistakable signs of the times, which, as practical men, 
 we may well consider portentous ; and that the denial of free 
 will and moral responsibihty now rife in the world is largely 
 owing to the spread of Materialism.* I pointed out how the 
 more popular literature of the day, which is the truest expres- 
 sion of society, is redolent of Materialism in its most putrid 
 forms And here Professor Huxley warmly sympathises with 
 me, as we might have felt sure he would, I also said that, 
 " if wo survey the higher thought of Europe as a whole, wo 
 must find it, too, largely given over to Materialism." And 
 among the exponents of that higher thought of whose teaching 
 this is " the practical o^itcome/^ I was led to mention Professor 
 Huxley as one of the most eminent and most influential. His 
 doctrines, I ventured to say, seem to me " in their nltiviale 
 resolution''' to be " substantially at one " Avith the Positivism 
 which finds so positive an exponent in Mr. Frederic Harrison. 
 And remembering Mr. Herbert Spencer's wise admonition that 
 '' only by varied iteration can alien conceptions be forced 
 upon reluctant minds," I jn'ocecded to amplif}^ my moaning 
 by saying, " Professor Huxley puts aside as un verifiable 
 everything which the senses cannot verify, everytliing beyond 
 
 * It may, in some cases, be the Determinism of an Idealist scliool 
 but, for the most part, I am convinced, it is something much baser. 
 
APPENDIX.] A BEJOINDEli TO PEOF. HUXLEY. 241 
 
 tlie bounds of physical science, everything which cannot bo 
 brought into a laboratory and dealt with chemically." These 
 last wordii of mine have supplied Professor Huxley with 
 " three theses," to the demolition of which he has devoted four 
 l)agcs of what I may, perhaps, call without oifence " very 
 gracious fooling." He then proceeds to repudiate the doctrine 
 of Matei'ialism, as he understands it, just as heartily as he 
 repudiates the doctrine of Spiritualism as I have presented 
 it,* and to explain in some detail why he does this. Lastly, 
 he begs me, "while denouncing physical science as the evil 
 genius of modern days — mother of Materialism, Fatalism, 
 and all sorts of other condemnable isms — to lay the blame on 
 the right shoulders, or at least to put in the dock, along with 
 Science, those sinful sisters of hers. Philosophy and Theology, 
 who being so much older, should have known much better 
 than the poor Cinderella of the schools and universities over 
 which they have so long dominated ; " poor Cinderella, who 
 " lights the fire, sweeps the house, and provides the dinner;" 
 and " in her garret has fairy visions out of the ken of the 
 pair of shrews who are quarrelling downstairs. "f And, to 
 conclude, he proclaims that " the safety of morality lies 
 neither in the adoption of this or that philosoj)hical speculation, 
 or this or that theological creed, but in a real and living 
 belief in that fixed order of nature which sends social dis- 
 organisation upon the track of immorality, as surely as it 
 sends physical disease after physical trespasses," % 
 
 Now the main point at issue between Professor Huxley 
 and myself is whether I am right in reckoning him among 
 teachers of Materialism. He ^^rotests that if he "may trust 
 his own knowledo;e of his own thouo;hts," this is " an error 
 of the first magnitude." § But surely the question is not 
 about Professor Huxley^s own knoAvledge of his own 
 
 * P. 793. t P. 80L-2. % P. 802. § P. 788. 
 
242 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 \ thoughts. It is as to the obvious meaning and practical 
 ( consequences of the words to wliich he has committed 
 himself in print, and which he is not in the least disposed 
 . to retract.' If, as I believed Avhen I wrote my paper 
 Materialism and Morality, and as I still believe after the 
 most careful study of Professor Huxley's criticism upon it, 
 there are among those words many statements which commit 
 him to the doctrine, that is enough for my vindication, 
 enough for the explanation which Professor Huxley seeks 
 from me. Should it appear that the Professor, in other and 
 perhaps contiguous statements, has committed himself to 
 Idealism, the question might then arise whether he held both 
 doctrines simultaneously or in succession. But I submit it 
 would be no argument against his having, by force of terms, 
 surrendered to Materialism, that he had never, in his own 
 mind, intended to do so, or that he had before or afterwards 
 preached Idealism. Rather it would illustrate what has been 
 well pointed out by a recent very clear-headed writer, who, 
 like myself, greatly admires Professor Huxley's high gifts: 
 " It is just because science has private opinions of its own, 
 just because of its convictions of the relativity of knowledge, 
 just because of the irresistible arguments of Idealism, that 
 it gets into a muddle. It has officially to profess Realism, 
 and covertly to recognise Idealism. It then sets about 
 solving the problem of their reconciliation, by stating it in 
 terms which are applicable to the first only." ■^' Professor 
 Huxley, in his Lay Sermon on the Physical Basis of Life, 
 proposed to lead his hearers "through the territory of vital 
 phenomena to the materialistic slough," and then " to point 
 out the path of extrication." f My contention is that a large 
 number of his students — I believe the vast majority — and 
 
 * Coke, Creeds of the Day, vol. ii. p. 200. 
 t Lay Sermons, p. 139. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDElt TO PROF. HUXLEY. 243 
 
 their name is legion, are led by him into the materialistic 
 slough never to emerge from it. Some delicacy of discrimi- 
 nation, not commonly found in the average reader of to-day, 
 is required in order to realise that Professor Huxley's material- 
 istic language is really meant to be not more than metaijhori- 
 eal ; that it implies only working hypotheses, which need 
 not in the least be truths of fact. 
 
 I am anxious to make good my ground as I go, and there- 
 fore I shall, before proceeding further, here set down two 
 observations. First let me say, in correction of a misappre- 
 hension of Professor Huxley's, which is to me quite un- 
 accountable, that with physical science, working in its own 
 province and by its own methods, I have no quarreh I have 
 not denounced it, I have never dreamed of denouncing it, as 
 " the evil genius of modern days, mother of Materialism and 
 Fatalism, and all sorts of other condemnable isms." There 
 is not a syllable to that effect in my paper. And I cannot 
 conceive how Professor Huxley, who, I am very sure, has no 
 wish to misrepresent me, was led to attribute to me an 
 absurdity, which — to put the case in a way likely, I think, to 
 appeal strongly to him — would disgrace even " the heated 
 pulpiteer." But, as I have been at the pains to point out, in 
 my inculpated article, physical science is one thing ; the 
 extra-judicial utterances of its professors, however illustrious, 
 arc quite another. And it is matter of everyday observation 
 that, upon the score of authority in this province of human 
 thought, eminent persons are often credited with a like 
 authority in other provinces, where physical science, as such, 
 has nothing whatever to say. One of these provinces, I take 
 leave to hold, is ethics. And when Professor Huxley asserts 
 that " the safety of morality is in the keeping of science," 
 I must say that he is putting forth such an extra-judicial 
 utterance, upon which I shall have more to remark by-and- 
 by. For the truth is that physical science, as such, can know 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 nothing, good or bad, about morality — " il n'y a rien de sale 
 ni d'impudique pour la science," writes Diderot in the Reve 
 cC Alemhert, correctly enough — and therefore is not competent 
 to track or to state the connection between morality and social 
 ( disorganisation. \ Morality and immorality are of the will 
 
 iand the intellect. But with the will and the intellect, as 
 Professor Huxley himself witnesses when he preaches Ideal- 
 ism, physical science has no concern. ; Ah, yes. Cinderella 
 must confine herself to "lighting the fire, sweeping the house, 
 and providing the dinner," and not exercise herself in great 
 matters, which are too high for her. I shall have to return 
 to this point. . 
 
 My second jn'oliminary observation is in correction of 
 another hu£i;e error concernino; me into which Professor 
 Huxley has fallen, " Mr. Lilly says," he writes, " that Avhen 
 Christian dogmas vanish, virtue will disappear too, and the 
 ancestral ape and tiger will have full I'lay." * Mr. Lilly has 
 said nothing of the sort, but, on the contrary, has ex])ressly 
 disclaimed that view. " Litera scripta manet." And here 
 are my words, which seem to me quiet plain and un- 
 ambiguous : " ISot, indeed, that I am now pleading for 
 Christianity. Still less am I pleading for any special form of 
 it. There is little in Christian morality that is exclusively 
 Christian. And I am not prepared to assert that many of 
 the most precious of the ethical elements of our civilisation 
 might not survive a general decay of specifically Christian 
 dogmas. My present contention is more general. It is this: 
 that morality can have root only in the spiritual nature of 
 man. If, from that happy soil, watered by tlie river of life, 
 and refreshed by the dews of heaven, you transplant it to the 
 rocks and sands of Materialism, wither and die it nuTst."t 
 Surely these words leave not a shadow of justification for 
 
 * P. 801. t P. 591. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 245 
 
 Professor Huxley's assertion. Of course I feel persuaded — 
 to borrow a phrase of his — that " there must be an explana- 
 tion which will leave his reputation for common sense and 
 fair dealing untouched." * What it may be I do not pre- 
 sume to suggest. But he must let me say, in his own 
 emphatic words, that " I have never given the slightest 
 ground for the attribution to me of the ridiculous conten- 
 tion " f that virtue is inseparably connected with Christian 
 dogmas. 
 
 And now as to Professor Huxley's " Materialism." In 
 the first place I observe that I cannot quite accept his defini- 
 tion of the teian. It suits his argument, unquestionably ; 
 but it is too narrow. He says Materialism amounts to this : 
 " That there is nothing in this universe but matter and force ; 
 and that all the phenomena 'of nature are explicable hy de- 
 duction from the pro2')erties assignable to these two factors^ % 
 I reject the second half of this definition — the words which 
 I have put in italics — as ^^nnecessary and as incorrect. 
 A Materialist may say, " I cannot explain the process 
 by which certain products of matter and force come 
 about, but I maintain that they are products of these two 
 factors only, and not of a third different from them." Many 
 — perhaps most — Materialists would grant that they cannot 
 understand how molecular action produces thought ; but all 
 the same, they contend that there is no cause of thought 
 except matter. Professor Huxley knows that just as well as 
 I do, and probably much better. Of course the virtue of the 
 saving clause in his definition is plain enough. He agrees 
 with the Materialists as to the fact of origin. " Material 
 changes are the causes of psychical phenomena." § But if 
 you say, " Dear me ; that sounds uncommonly like Material- 
 
 * P. 792. t Ihid. 
 
 X V. 703. § P. 797. 
 
246 THE PROVINCE OE PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 ism," lie turns round indignantly and exclaims, " Nego — I 
 say No : the proprieties do not permit me to make the negation 
 quite so emphatic as I could desire ; I never said I could 
 explain how they are the causes : I cannot conceive how the 
 phenomena of consciousness are to be brought within the 
 bounds of phj-sical science," * and so forth. He grants that 
 states of consciousness are brought into existence by molecular 
 changes. Yet, for all that, you must not say that he teaches 
 Materialism, because he cannot explain the process. Why, 
 who can explain the process by which light becomes heat, or 
 heat becomes electricity ? And who is thereby hindered 
 from asserting that heat, light, and electricity are in their 
 nature physical, not psychical? It is a question of the 
 nature of things, not of explaining the process by which one 
 produces another. If, in fact, molecular changes do produce 
 states of consciousness, be the process what it may — so long 
 as it does not bring in a new non-physical cause — we are 
 necessarily landed in Materialism. Now with all possible 
 deference for -Professor Huxley's knowledge of his states of 
 consciousness, I must stick to my text that this very Material- 
 ism is contained in, and follows by strictest deduction from, 
 his printed statements. Will he repeat that he never meant 
 it ? He must permit me in reply to repeat that I am con- 
 cerned not with what he meant, but with what his words 
 mean, with the message, not with the messenger. Let us 
 turn to his words. 
 
 Professor Huxley declares, " If there is anything in the 
 world which I do firmly believe, it is the universal validity of 
 the law of causation." t Now here I find reason for reo-ret 
 that we are not proceeding after the manner of medieval 
 disputants. If we were, I should at once ask him to define 
 " the law of causation ; " scholastic formalism always recom- 
 
 * P. 789-90. t P. 790. 
 
APPExNDix-.] A nEJOTND?:n to prof. IIUXLEY. 247 
 
 monds such definitions to be given wlien possible. In the 
 absence of any definition of the law of causation from Pro- 
 fessor Huxley, it will not, I feel confident, be deemed by 
 him excessive if I describe that which calls somethino; into 
 existence as the cause of that which it calls into existence. 
 Well, then, in Professor Huxley's article I find these words : 
 " the phenomena of consciousness as such, and apart from 
 tlLC physical process hy which they are called into existence ^ *' 
 Here we have "physical process" as the cause, and "the 
 phenomena of consciousness " as the effect. But j^hysical 
 process is merely another name for "the molecular changes 
 propagated from the eye," or any other organ " to a certain 
 part of the substance of the brain," and these changes are 
 due to " vibrations of luminiferous ether," f or whatever the 
 medium may be. The "process of physical analysis " takes 
 us backward to matter and force on the one hand, forward 
 to "the phenomena of consciousness," "called into exist- 
 ence " by physical process, on the other. And, as we have 
 seen, Professor Huxley, if he believes anything, believes in 
 the unbroken sequence by which the " process " stands to 
 " the phenomena of consciousness " in the relation of cause 
 and efPect. It is unwarranted, then, in his readers to con- 
 clude that in the last analysis " the phenomena of conscious- 
 ness " must " be explicable by deduction from the properties 
 assio-nable to matter and force ? " And what is this but 
 Materialism as defined by Professor Huxley himself? 
 
 Again, Professor Huxley holds " that it would be quite 
 correct to say that material changes are the causes of 
 psychical phenomena.'" J " Psychical phenomena ! " Surely 
 it is what Polonius would call "an ill phrase." Can it be 
 other than misleading to apply such a term as " phenomena " 
 to the things of the mind, to its activities, or the exercise of 
 
 * P. TOO. The italics are mine. t P. 790 % P. 797. 
 
248 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 tliem ? For tlicy do not appear in any proper sense of the 
 word ; tliey exist Avitliout appearing, and so should, in strict 
 logic, come under Professor Huxley's canon : " De non 
 apparentibus ut de non existentibus, eadem est ratio." * I 
 do not press this point, although it is important. I merely 
 throw it out, in passing, for Professor Huxley^s consideration. 
 The matter just now in hand is the Professor's proposition 
 that " material changes are the causes of psychical pheno- 
 mena." Is it, as he asserts, "quite correct" to say this? 
 I am afraid I must answer after the manner of a medieval 
 disputant and say Distinrfiio. What does Professor Huxley 
 here mean by " cause " ? Does he mean that material 
 changes bring "psychical phenomena" into existence withput 
 the intervention of any other cause which is not a material 
 change ? If he does, assuredly there is an entirely adequate 
 justification for dubbing him a Materialist; the very head and 
 front of Materialism is to maintain that what is merely 
 matter and force can produce that which is neither matter 
 nor force. Or does he allow that a psychical immaterial 
 cause must intervene ? In that case his material change 
 is not a cause, but, at the most^ an occasion, which tAvo, 
 I would observe, in my character of medieval disputant, are 
 not precisely the same thing. And what an amazing illus- 
 tration Professer Huxley has chosen to elucidate his meaning ! 
 " The man who pulls the trigger of a loaded pistol placed 
 closed to another's head certainly is the cause of that other^s 
 death, thouo;h in strictness he ' causes ' nothing but the move- 
 ment of the finger upon the trigger. And in like manner the 
 molecular cliange which is brought about in a certain portion of 
 
 * See his most suggestive article on The Hypothesis that Animals 
 are Automata, published in this Review in November, 1874. " In 
 the matter of consciousness, if in anything," he there remarks, "we 
 may hold by the rule, ' De non apparentibus ut de non existentibus 
 eadem est ratio. " P. 505. 
 
APPENDIX.] A llEJOINDER TO PliOF. HUXLEY. 249 
 
 the cerebral substance by tJie stimulation of a remote part of tlio 
 body would be properly said to bo the cause of the consequent 
 feeling, whatever unknown term were interposed between the 
 physical agent and the actual psychical product." * That is 
 to say, a series of physical changes, beginning with the move- 
 ment of the finger on the trigger, shows us exactly how 
 molecular changes may produce, not physical effects co- 
 ordinate with their activity, but " psychical phenomena," 
 which are absolutely incommensurable with it ! I hope 
 Professor Huxley will not accuse me of "a damnable 
 iteration" if I again ask, Has a psychical cause interposed? 
 Then, the illustration is nothing to the purpose ; it does not 
 illustrate ; and to employ the word " cause " for the mei'e 
 material antecedents is to throw dust in our eyes. Has none 
 interposed ? Then how can Professor Huxley complain of 
 those Avho dub him a Materialist ? If i)ullin2; a trio-o-er 
 produces death, exactly as a physical change in the brain 
 produces thought, and vice verm, it passes my Avit to see how 
 Professor Huxley, in maintaining this, is to be differentiated 
 from Dr. Biichner, who holds just the same thing. 
 
 Once more, Professor Huxley maintains that '' conscious- 
 nesSj in certain forms at any rate, is a cerebral function." -j- 
 The statement is more guarded than one which was put 
 forward by him some years ago in quelling Mr. Darwin's 
 critics. He then contended that as electric force and lio-ht 
 waves are expressions of molecular changes, " so conscious- 
 ness is, in the same sense, an expression of the molecular 
 changes which take place in that nervous matter which is the 
 oro;an of consciousness." t So in writinp- in this Review in 
 November, 1874, he laid it down that "the consciousness of 
 brutes would appear to be related to the mechanism of their 
 
 * P. 797. t P. 7!)0. 
 
 f ConUmpovary Remeu:, vol. xviii. p. 465. 
 
250 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appendix 
 
 bodies, simply as a collateral product of its working.'' And 
 it is quite clear from the whole of the paper in which these 
 words occur that he does not allow of any difference in this 
 matter between men and the brutes, as to which I quite agree 
 with him. I do not know the precise object or value of the 
 limiting words he now uses: " in certain forms, at any rate." 
 I take it that we may fairly credit him with the proposition, 
 which, indeed, he appears to grant, that " consciousness is 
 a function of the brain." * And what does he mean b}' 
 function? He replies, "We call function that effect, or 
 series of effects, which result li-om the activity of an organ." f 
 Very well. We will take that definition. And now let us 
 go a ste]:) farther. 
 
 To Professor Huxley the whole of man, except his body, 
 consists of "states of consciousness." J So much is clear. 
 To talk of a personality which underlies those states, or exists 
 in them, ajjpears to him a return to an " effete mythology." § 
 Consciousness is the man, so far forth as he is man and not 
 mere dead matter. Therefore it is no exaggeration to say 
 that on this theory the brain makes the man — that man is the 
 result of brain, or a cerebral function. And what is the 
 brain excejDt a little grey matter in a certain degree of com- 
 plexity ? Shall we be told that consciousness is sinip]y\tlie 
 product of the activity of a material organ, and at the same 
 time be forbidden, under pain of the strongest anathema 
 which "the proprieties permit," to call this doctrine Material- 
 ism ? What is Materialism if this is not ? Nay, nay, says 
 Professor Huxley, not so fast ; in that sense, we are all 
 Materialists. " We arc all agreed that consciousness is a 
 function of matter, and that particular tenet must be given 
 up as a mark of Materialism." |1 And he imagines me to 
 
 * P. 796. t P. 797. 
 
 % Lay Sermons, p. 327. § P. 790. 
 
 II P. 797. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 251 
 
 meet his parallel, drawn from the production of muscular 
 motion, by conceding that " no physiologist, however spiritual 
 his leanings, dreams of supposing that simple sensations 
 require a 'spirit' for their production." ^ Professor Huxley 
 must pardon me. That would not at all be my way of re- 
 joining. What physiologists hold I am not just now con- 
 cerned to ascertain. But psychologists also deal Avith sim])lo 
 sensations, and I am quite sure that I am not the sole 
 survivor of the school which perceives a difference between 
 dead and living muscle, Avhicli attributes the state of con- 
 sciousness called pain to living and not to dead muscle, and 
 which, therefore, affirms in living muscle the existence of 
 an immaterial vital principle — in short, of " spirit," the 
 absence of which it is that makes dead muscle, and renders 
 pain impossible in such. Sensation, however simple, appears 
 to me to be not a physical fact, not a nerve fact, but a 
 mental fact. Pace Professor Huxley, we have not yet quite 
 " done with that wholly superfluous fiction." Still less have 
 psychologists conceded that a fiction it is. I certainly 
 cannot allow that animal life, constituting certain states of 
 consciousness, is due to a material organism in which 
 nothing immaterial resides. Is this " immaterial " to be 
 called " spirit " ? Why not ? 
 
 As little, or rather mucli less, can I allow that he does not 
 teach Materialism who makes thought simply a function of 
 the material brain, instead of asserting that the brain is at 
 mostj the instrument of thought, and supposes in a man a 
 thinking principle, which it cannot and does not constitute. 
 IMaterialism this certainly seems to me to be, and of the 
 crassest kind. I can no more believe it, than I can believe 
 that the Avoodman is a function of his axe, and that the axe is 
 
 * P. 797. 
 
 t See the note at p. (Jl of this work. 
 
252 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appendix. 
 
 not the woodman's instrument. If thinking man is the result 
 of the activity of a httle grey matter, then assuredly Dr. 
 Biichner,* whether or no he represents physical science, will 
 represent the only valid metaphysics, for the brain, physically 
 considered, is matter and nothing but matter. Allow it to be 
 the material antecedent, and the only cause which '' calls into 
 existence " " states of consciousness," and how can the con- 
 clusion be avoided that thought is the product of matter and 
 force ? If material changes are the causes, true and sufficient, 
 of "psychical ])henomena," are not these "phenomena " pro- 
 ducts of matter ? Where will Professor Huxley introduce 
 Idealism in the process? Nowhere in the process, but only 
 in the result. Is that not precisely what the Materialist does? 
 He starts from matter and gets to mind, and there is no break 
 in the chain. Consciousness is to be, at any rate, " a col- 
 lateral product " of nerve changes. If so, does it not originate 
 in nerve matter ? 
 
 I come now to the famous ])assage quoted in my article. 
 Materialism and Morality. " The progress of science means 
 the extension of the province of what we call matter and 
 causation, ai^d the concomitant ,o-radual banishment from all 
 regions of human thought of what we call spirit and sponta- 
 neity." f Professor Huxley does not see what this has to do 
 with Alaterialism. Keally? Nor, I suppose, has it anything 
 to do with Materialism that he once more asserts that " all 
 the so-called spontaneous operations of the mind^' are "con- 
 nected in natural series of causes and effects" with " phj'sical 
 phenomena," % the latter being causes and the " so called 
 
 * Let me, in passing, correct another strange mistp.ke of Professor 
 Huxley's. He writes (p. 794), "Dr. Biiclmer, whom Mr. Lilly- 
 appears to consider an authority in iihysical science." I cannot 
 conceive how this "appears," for I have never said it, nor in any 
 way implied it. 
 
 t Lay Scrmann, p. 142. 
 
 X P. 798. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOIXDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 253 
 
 spontaneous operations" effects of them ? Well, if what \\q 
 call matter and energy really is what we call it, and is not 
 another name for mind, then the extension of its province to 
 all regions of thought should signify that in course of time all 
 " phenomena," mental as well as material, will be included 
 under matter and energy. But I may be reminded that Pro- 
 fessor Huxley, in discoursino; to the "Christian Youno; Men" 
 of Cambridge, told them " It is an indisputable truth that 
 what we call the material world is only known to us under 
 the forms of the ideal world, and, as Descartes tells us, our 
 knowledge of the soul is more intimate and certain than our 
 knowledge of the body."* Yes; certainly Professor Huxley 
 is the author of both of thess statements, one of which banishes 
 soul and spirit and makes matter supreme, the other of wdiicli 
 reduces matter to a mental state, and gives mind the supre- 
 macy. If we are to follow him in his lecture on Descartes, 
 the progress of knowledge should mean the extension of the 
 province of what we call " soul/' and which is likewise called 
 spirit, mind, personality, to all regions of human thought, 
 and the ideal transformation of what w^e call matter and 
 force. But, as we have just seen. Professor Huxley main- 
 tains the opposite of this also, and makes the progress of 
 science identical wdth the triumph of matter. Are we to 
 describe him as an Idealist on the strength of one passage, or 
 as a Materialist upon the strength of the other ? or must w^e 
 say that when he is not a Materialist he is an Idealist, and 
 vice versa .^ There is manifestly something here which 
 requires clearing up. Even at the risk of being accounted no 
 better than a medieval disputant, I venture to say that one of 
 the two passages must go ; no compromise between them is 
 possible. 
 
 That, however, is a matter for Professor Huxley. I pro- 
 
 * Laii Sciiiioiis, p. 340. 
 
254 THE PROVINCE OE PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 ceed to note his dictum tluat "the £i;rowth of science, not 
 merely of physical science, but all science, means the demon- 
 stration of order and natural causation among phenomena 
 which had not pi-eviously been brought under those concep- 
 tions."* Now, if Professor Huxley were a medieval dis- 
 putant and had " posted up" this thesis, I should vehemently 
 desiderate from him a little definition. What does " order " 
 mean? What is "natural causation"? If, as I suspect, 
 " natural " is here equivalent to physical. Professor Huxley 
 implies that the growth of science — of "all science" — consists 
 m the reduction of mental problems to those of matter and 
 force — in short, to mechanics and the expression of " con- 
 sciousness " in foot-pounds. But if " natural causation " may 
 be hyperphysical (I beg of Professor Huxley to note the word) 
 as well as physical, does this establishment of it imj^ly neces- 
 sarily the extension of the province of matter and force ? 
 These are important questions, and as a perplexed reader of 
 Professor Huxley's writings I should bo grateful for a little 
 light upon them, if the Professor is in a condition to radiate 
 it. As for the word " order," is there any reason why a 
 mental or a spiritual order should not exist over and above a 
 physical order ? And again we may ask, in no spirit of im- 
 pertinent curiosity, how will it extend the sway of matter and 
 force, to enlarge our conception of mental or spiritual order, 
 distinct from physical ? 
 
 Moreover it must not be forgotten that Professor Huxley, 
 who distinguishes for the moment between "physical science" 
 and "ah science," has written elsewhere, "If there is one 
 thing clear about the progress of modern science, it is the 
 tendency to reduce all scientific problems, except those which 
 are purely mathematical, to questions of molecular physics — 
 that is to say, to the attractions, repulsions, motions, and co- 
 
 * P. 798. 
 
ArrENDix.] A REJOINDER TO PROE HUXLEY. 255 
 
 ordination of the ultimate particles of matter.'" * Let him 
 bear with me if I ask him whether mental problems — problems 
 of consciousness— are scientific or not? If they are, then the 
 clear tendency of modern science — approved, as is manifest, 
 by Professor Huxley — is to reduce them to problems of 
 molecular physics, which, truly, if it could be done, would 
 make the empire of matter and force universal. Kor is there 
 any other way of banishing '' spirit and spontaneity " from 
 human thought. But to take the other alternative, will Pro- 
 fessor Huxley say that problems of consciousness are not 
 scientific ? In various parts of his paper in the December 
 Fortniglitly he insists, with indignant emphasis, that he does 
 not pretend to bring " the phenomena of consciousness within 
 the bounds of physical science." Therefore, it would seem 
 they are not scientific at all ; for as he has told us, in words 
 just now quoted, it is the tendency of modern science to bring 
 '' all scientific problems " within those bounds. Grant them 
 not to be " scientific," and how will the province of matter 
 and force be made to include them ? In no way ; and then 
 there will be a limit to the extension of that province: it wdll 
 never become conterminous with all regions of human 
 thought. It would be like the lifting of a fog if Professor 
 Huxley would tell us which of the foregoing alternatives he 
 proposes to defend. Is jjsychology a science ? Is it reducible 
 to molecular physics ? Is not such a reduction tantamount 
 to IMaterialism ? Is every problem, transcendental and other, 
 to be solved by the methods of physical science ? Or arc 
 there regions of human thought where physics cannot find an 
 entrance ? For if there be, in such we may find room for 
 spirit — nay, perhaps, even for *' spontaneity." At any rate, 
 luiiversal " causation," reducible to the pullings and pushings 
 of the final particles of matter, will have to be given up, or 
 
 * Lay Sermons, p. 1G6. 
 
256 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS. [appendix. 
 
 Materialism, of which this doctrine is the expression, must be 
 accepted. 
 
 Professor Huxlev, liowever, identifies the o;rowth of science 
 with the extension of " natural causation," and he fully 
 acquiesces in the tendency to reduce "all scientific pro])lems" 
 to those of molecular physics. Is it misrepresenting him, 
 then — tbe writer, I mean, not the inner consciousness of the 
 individual man — to assert that he " puts aside as unverifiable 
 everything which cannot," by some process or other, " be 
 verified by the senses ? " Again, it is his opinion that " as 
 surely as every future grows out of past and present, so will 
 the physiology of the future gradually extend the realm of 
 matter and law, until it is coextensive with knowledge, with 
 feeling, with action." * It appears, then, that to extend the 
 realm of matter and of law is one and the same thing. 
 Matter, law, order, universal causation — to say one is to 
 imply the rest. But it is the senses which deal with matter. 
 If there is nothing beyond matter, there is nothing "which 
 the senses cannot verify," nothing " beyond the bounds of 
 physical science," nothing " which cannot be brought into a 
 laboratory and dealt wnth chemically." If the ])roblems of 
 consciousness lie under the jurisdiction of physical science, 
 i^oso facto they are subject to the laws and tests of molecular 
 physics. How is it misrepresenting Professor Huxley to 
 debit him with the conclusions of his own premises ? 
 
 But the pi'ofessor is indignant to an extent which the 
 proprieties do not alloAv him adequately to express. Does 
 Mr. Lilly mean to tell me, he asks^f that my intellectual con- 
 victions, my 03sthetic or logical faculty, my delight in the 
 fine arts, lie M^thin the bounds of physical science, or are 
 verifiable by the senses, or can be tested chemically ? Do / 
 mean to tell him so ? God forbid ! It is lie Avho, to be con- 
 
 * Lay Sennuu.,, p. 142. f P- T8i), ser^. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 257 
 
 sistent with tlie enunciations which I have quoted from him^ 
 should tell me so. I am very well aware that the senses, on 
 which the science of molecular physics is founded, know 
 nothing of " style and syllogisms," and I believe they know 
 as little of the " keen perception of the beauty offered us by 
 nature and by art." Neither is it by the senses that we verify 
 the truths of mathematics, of philosophy, of history. But if 
 these are truths belonging to the "regions of human thought," 
 then the gradual extension of " order " and " natural causa- 
 tion " should, according to Professor Huxley's dictum, bring 
 them one day into the province of physics. Is not "the 
 realm of matter and law " to " become coextensive with 
 knowledge, with feeling, with action " ? Then it will, when 
 spirit has been put to the ban, include such things as the 
 binomial theorem, and the truth in any given history of Rome. 
 For are not these products of that " consciousness " at a 
 " mechanical equivalent " of which, Professor Huxley tells 
 us, we shall sooner or later arrive, "just as we have arrived 
 at a mechanical equivalent of heat?" The Professor deems 
 these conclusions extremely absurd — "preposterous" is his 
 word. So do I. But what, if they flow from his premises 
 about the reduction of scientific problems to those of molecular 
 physics, and the identification of law with matter, and of both 
 with knowledge, feeling, and action ? 
 
 Professor Huxley inquires whether any human being puts 
 aside as unverifialile everything which the senses cannot 
 verify. He makes good play with the question, repeating it, 
 in divers forms, with brilliant effect, which shows that his 
 right hand has by no means forgotten its cunning. His is one 
 of those opulent and puissant natures that age cannot wither, 
 nor custom stale their infinite variety. Will he suffer me, for 
 clearness' sake, in answering his question, to speak once more 
 after the manner of a medieval disputant, and to say, Dis~ 
 tinguo. That no human being puts aside in fact everything 
 
 8 
 
258 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appefdix. 
 
 that the senses cannot verify, I allow, or rather, mamtain. 
 But all human beings do so in theory who are of the school of 
 Sensationalism or Materialism. I was not discussing in my 
 paper what Professor Huxley does, for he does what we all 
 do : his daily life is ordered and governed by a great number 
 of certitudes which the senses cannot verify. No. I was 
 rehearsing what he had said, and was pointing out that it in- 
 volved, and so far as I could understand expressed, a theory 
 Avhich forbids us to accept as true or certain whatever lies 
 outside the bounds of physical science — whatever, therefore, 
 cannot be brought into a laboratory and dealt with chemi- 
 cally. I did not say that Professor Huxley's mind is 
 Materialistic — it is too richly endowed, as I expressly re- 
 cognised,* to be dominated by " Pig-philosoj)hy " — but that 
 his theory is. And I say so again, with the full knowledge 
 that he has often employed language diametrically opposed to 
 Materialism, and that he may, in a true sense, be regarded 
 rather as the candid friend than the irreconcilable enemy of 
 the Higher Theism. I say that the passages from his writings 
 which I have brought forward, either have no definite mean- 
 ing, or else contain the doctrine that matter gives rise to 
 mind by a process of natural causation, in which the series 
 of causes and effects is unbroken ; in other words, where 
 there are physical causes at the beginning of the chain 
 and mental effects at the end of it. And I call that doctrine 
 Materialism. 
 
 So much as to the main point at issue between Professor 
 Huxley and myself. But there are yet some things to be said 
 before my explanation will attain that completeness which I 
 desire it to possess. The Professor tells us that he heartily 
 repudiates " the doctrine of Kraft unci Stof — force and 
 matter — as the Alpha and Omega of existence, the funda- 
 
 * P. 577. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 259 
 
 mental article of the faitli Materialistic ; " * and that for 
 witnessing against it he has suffered reproach as being " re- 
 trograde " and even — horresco referens — " an obscurantist." f 
 Moreover he reiterates what he has said, " not once but con- 
 stantly," on the impassable gulf which divides neurosis from 
 psychosis. How are we to reconcile these strong convictions 
 and arguments with what I have quoted from him, and with 
 a large number of other passages to the same effect which I 
 have collected from his writings, but which the time would 
 fail me to transcribe ? If Professor Huxley agrees with Pro- 
 fessor Tyndall that there is " an impassable gulf," how can 
 he attribute the causation of psychosis to neurosis^ which we 
 have seen him do repeatedly when stating that " molecular 
 changes are the cause of psychical phenomena " ? A gulf 
 which may be traversed by causation ceases to be an " im- 
 passable gulf; " we must employ another metaphor and speak 
 of the links in an unbroken series of causes and effects. 
 When neurosis calls psychosis into existence the gulf is 
 thereby bridged. But we shall be told, the process remains 
 inscrutable. The answer to that may be given in four words: 
 Every process is inscrutable. We do not know the liow of a 
 single causal nexus. The question therefore remains, on what 
 ground can a writer, of good faith as indubitable as his 
 intellectual power, who makes mind the product or result 
 or effect of molecular changes, decline to be ranked as a 
 Materialist ? 
 
 The probable solution of this grave difficulty lies, as I have 
 already indicated, in Professor Huxley's announcement, that 
 he believes in the relativity of our knowledge. He prefers to 
 speak " of what we call matter and energy," " what we call 
 psychical phenomena." He is perhaps of opinion that the 
 doctrine of relativity makes Materialism impossible, and 
 
 • P. 794. t P. 796 
 
 s 2 
 
260 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appendix. 
 
 Idealism too. So it does, in an absolute sense ; but so it does 
 not in a relative. It reduces all our knowledge to an 
 acquaintance with phenomena, doubtless ; it leaves intact, 
 however, the problem^ which set of phenomena gives rise to 
 the other, which calls the other into existence, or which we 
 should account causes, in a relative sense, and which effects. 
 But in its influence on the social order, on morals and life, a 
 relative would be no less disastrous than an absolute Material- 
 ism. For the mass of men are not metaphysicians, and to 
 them the distinction between relative and absolute can have 
 no meanino;. A sensualist is willino* to indulo;e himself 
 '' phenomenally " and " relatively," if he finds the effects 
 agreeable, precisely as under former systems of thought he 
 might have done so " absolutely " and " really." The change 
 of name can make no difference. And thus Physicus, in his 
 well-known book,* when he has considered "the bearing on 
 Materialism of the simple doctrine of Relativity," concludes, 
 " Here we saw that Materialism was only affected to the 
 extent of being compelled to allow that what we know as 
 matter and motion are not known in themselves." " But," 
 he goes on to say, " we also saw that as the inscrutable 
 realities are uniformly translated into consciousness as matter 
 and motion, it still remains as true as ever that what we knoiv 
 as matter and motion may be the causes of Avhat we know as 
 mind." In like manner, with reference to the late Professor 
 Clifford's dictum that a " mo vine; molecule of inoro'anic 
 matter does not possess mind or consciousness, but it pos- 
 sesses a small piece of mind stuff," Phi/sicus remarks, that 
 if it be true, " then assuredly the central position of Material- 
 ism is shown to be impregnable." Now Physicus, however 
 we may account of him, is not tainted with the suspicion 
 of scholasticism. Consider, again, Mr. Spencer's teaching 
 
 * P. 187. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 261 
 
 upon the relativity of knowledge and the persistence of force. 
 What is its outcome but the doctrine of self-existent matter ? 
 Take his own statement: " Clearly, therefore, the proposition 
 that an ' originating mind ' is the cause of Evolution is a 
 proposition that can be entertained so long only as no attempt 
 is made to unite in thought its two terms in the alleged 
 relation." * But of course Mr. Spencer does not " post up " 
 Materialism in the absolute sense of the old and artless Realists. 
 My point is, however, that the multitudes of men are and 
 must be artless Realists, and that they are taking the Material- 
 ism of Mr. Spencer, Professor Huxley, and Mr. Clifford 
 au pied de la lettre, with the consequences which I have 
 endeavoured to depict in my article Materialism ajid Morality. 
 It is not, therefore, on the score of language merely, nor 
 by singling out isolated passages, not, assuredly, for the sake 
 of controversy, for which 1 have neither aptitude nor taste, 
 but because, on taking all the evidence into account, I 
 deemed it so, that I spoke of Professor Huxley's writings as 
 tendino; to elevate Materialism into the reignino; creed of the 
 day. It might be feasible to show that various authors, to 
 whom no one would attribute Materialism, have used un- 
 guarded or equivocal expressions ; but it is not by reason of 
 such that, when all is said and done, I feel obliged to main- 
 tain my former position, adding of course that, neither then 
 nor now, have I dreamt of penetrating into the depths of 
 Professor Huxley's consciousness. He appears to think the 
 combination of Phenomenist and Materialist impossible. It 
 seems to me that between these two forms of negation there 
 is a natural affinity. The Materialist denies mind altogether, 
 or makes it a function of matter ; the Phenomenist denies 
 that faculty of intuition which is the essential characteristic 
 of mind, and calling mind a phenomenon breaks doAvn the 
 
 See the whole i^assage in his Essays, vol. iii. pp. 246-249. 
 
262 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appendix. 
 
 distinction that severs it from those material entities which 
 really are phenomena. 1 do not think Professor Huxley 
 escapes from the Materialism which has been called, most 
 unwarrantably, *■' The Greed of Science," by adopting the 
 doctrine of the relativity of knowledge. Shall I appear to 
 him no better than a medieval disputant if I say that this 
 seems to me to be merely adding a second error to the 
 first? 
 
 " The Creed of Science." '' The relation of science to 
 morals." Employing the term ]:)hysics, as less open to am- 
 biguity, I am here brought back to what I said at the 
 beginning, that physics, as such, is not conversant with 
 morals, neither affirms nor denies religion, and can there- 
 fore have no creed in regard to either. We do not talk of 
 the religion of the sense of hearing, nor of its irreligion ; such 
 an expression would be absurd. In like manner physics, 
 which is wholly the science of the senses, abstracts from 
 religion, from morality, and from every kind of knowledge 
 so far as the latter is independent of sense. I say " abstracts 
 from," I do not say "rejects," or "repudiates," or "denies." 
 Physical science merely attends to its own business, and it is 
 no part of its business to deal with what the late Mr. Lewes 
 denominated the " metempirical." It is not Agnostic, for 
 Agnosticism implies a knowledge of one's own ignorance ; 
 and physical science does not know that it is ignorant, any 
 more than a mollusc knows that it is not moral. It is 
 wonderful how much has been made out to the prejudice of 
 religion as of morality, from the obvious canon of logic that, 
 every science having its proper object, the proper object of 
 physics does not include God or the moral order. Science, 
 all science, has on the strength of this been described as 
 hostile to metaphysical principles, to belief in a Personal 
 Deity, and to an a priori standard of ethics. Hostile, phy- 
 sical science is not ; indifferent, it is and ought to be. 
 
APPENDIX.] A REJOINDER TO PROF. HUXLEY. 263 
 
 Professor Huxley asks, In wliat laboratory questions of 
 jBstlietics and historical trutli can be tested ? In none, as we 
 both ac;ree. But it is curious that he should think of safe- 
 guarding morality by means of that science which cannot 
 even attain to the laws of historical criticism. He will, per- 
 haps, assure me that I mistake him again. Well, I do not 
 mistake in asserting that he considers physical science " a 
 better guardian of morality " than " the pair of shrews," 
 philosophy and theology. I will say what strikes me on that 
 point, and so conclude this paper, which has extended far 
 beyond what I proposed to myself when I began to write it. 
 But whether one agrees with Professor Huxley or disagrees, 
 his pages are so fascinating that it is difficult to tear oneself 
 away from them. 
 
 The morality of an act, we must all surely admit, is not a 
 physical quality ; it resides in the motive, and again in the 
 nature of the act ; whether, namely, the latter is conformable 
 to a standard of perfection which the mind alone apprehends. 
 The outward effects of two actions may be precisely similar, 
 as when an assassin slays his victim and an executioner hangs 
 a convicted criminal. But one of these acts will be foul 
 murder ; the other a righteous ministration of retributive 
 justice. Will Professor Huxley point out any science which 
 is not a part of philosophy or theology, and is yet competent 
 to discriminate between these two acts? What can "science" 
 affirm about them unless it becomes philosophy or theolog}^ ? 
 Nothing whatever. Physical science perceives only that 
 which the senses grasp ; and the senses know nothing of 
 justice or injustice. Is it by physics that we know when social 
 disorganisation is the consequence of immorality ? I trow 
 not. To physics the deeds of a Wellington and of a Genghiz 
 Khan are " molecular chano;es," and no more. Phvsical 
 science may predict that if certain physical actions take place, 
 certain physical structures will be injured or broken up. 
 
264 THE PROVINCE OF PHYSICS, [appendix. 
 
 But it can never tell what is the moral quality of those phy- 
 sical actions. The taint of leprosy may be contracted by 
 vicious habits, or in the exercise of sublimest self-sacrifice. 
 But can "science^"' inform us whether Pere Damien, in his 
 fearful prison at Molokai, contracted it because he was good 
 or because he was evil ? Therefore, I must affirm, that while 
 physical science may be, and ought to be, the servant of 
 morality, it can never, in any proper sense, be its guardian. 
 The only effective guardian of morality is religion, which 
 affords it a sanction and a reward, which incarnates it in 
 august symbolism and utters it in divine command for all those 
 — they are, and ever must be, the overwhelming majority — 
 who cannot lay hold of an abstruse philosophy, but need to 
 be taught as children. Physical science may indeed mark 
 the difference, which in time becomes outward and visible, 
 between those who cultivate morality and those who trample 
 it under foot. But there its competency stops ; its powers of 
 interpretation are exhausted. What lies at the root of the 
 difference it can never tell. It has no means of discerning 
 virtue or vice, and to intrust the age to its guidance would 
 be like asking one's way of a blind giant. That he was a 
 giant would be no compensation for his want of sight ; and, 
 if he thought himself all the more at liberty because he per- 
 ceived no hindrance to his action, so much the worse would 
 it be for those whom he dragged along with him. I have 
 applied the parable in the paper which Professor Huxley has 
 criticised. Physical science, apart from philosophy and reli- 
 gion, is indeed a giant, but it is blind. And when it proceeds 
 unscientifically to formulate its ignorance into a creed, it is 
 doing its best not to subserve morality, but to ruin it. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Absolute, the, how men talk of . . . 
 
 denied by the new philosophy . 
 
 the old philosophy rooted and grounded in 
 
 is the trne end of man .... 
 
 is the basis of marriage .... 
 
 is the True, the Good, the Beautiful . 
 
 all our intellectual operations have relation to 
 Adultery, in materialistic ethics 
 
 and Christian marriage .... 
 Ambrose, St., on divorce and re-marriage 
 Amiel, on contemporary materialism 
 Aquinas, St. Thomas, his teaching as to matter 
 
 on the lex nattiraUs ..... 
 
 on punishment ...... 
 
 on the lawfulness of property . 
 
 on the conception of a thing as doable 
 
 on human freedom and divine foreknowledge 
 Architecture, the, of the age .... 
 Aristotle, on the difference between man and the 
 rest of animate existence 
 
 on intelligence in nature .... 
 
 his definition of fi^eedom .... 
 
 on justice ....... 
 
 on the rational nature and the law of habit 
 
 on the end of civil society .... 
 
 on the province of political science . 
 
 his classification of liars .... 
 
 on the common element of all virtues 
 Arnold, Dr. on the worship of force. 
 Arnold, Mr. Matthew, on the source of rights . 
 Art, has passed under the materialistic yoke . 
 
 its value in historical researches 
 
 animal ....... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 64 
 
 96 
 
 96 
 
 118 
 
 216 
 
 226 
 
 228 
 
 49,50 
 
 205 
 
 205 
 
 24 
 
 63 
 
 97, 106 
 
 129 
 
 194 
 
 238 
 
 238 
 
 223 
 
 101 
 
 102 
 
 103 
 
 109 
 
 138 
 
 152 
 
 153 
 
 172 
 
 231 
 
 151 
 
 44 
 
 22 
 
 221 
 
 222, 227 
 
266 
 
 INDEX 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Ai't — continued. 
 
 is the very nature of man .... 222 
 
 the, of the nineteenth century .... 222-226 
 
 has become " bourgeois " . . . . . 226 
 
 the true theory of ..... • 227-230 
 
 the ethical laws which should govern it . . 230-236 
 
 Atheism, jii^actical ....... 176 
 
 Austin, on the two meanings of " right " . . . 2 
 
 Augustine, St., on courtesans ..... 32 
 
 on the diversity of moral judgments . . . 106 
 
 on punishment ....... 126 
 
 on divorce and re-marriage .... 205 
 
 Bagehot, Mr., on Lord Lyndhurst .... 142 
 
 Bain, Dr. on public opinion ..... 46 
 
 Balzac, on the idealising of crime .... 28 
 
 on marriage ....... 219 
 
 Bax, Mr. Belfort, on the end of true Socialism . 190 
 Beaconsfield, the Earl of, his " education " of the 
 
 Conservative party ..... 145 
 
 his picture of the English peasantry . . 185 
 
 Beaussire, M. on the crisis of morality ... 4 
 
 on positivism in France ..... 19 
 
 Beauty, is of the intellect ..... .23 
 
 not of the senses ...... 231, 257 
 
 the feeling of, penetrates to the animal world . 222 
 
 springs from the same fount as morality . . 231 
 
 ideal . . . . • • • • ' • 233 
 
 Bentham, his account of crime ..... 42 
 
 on pleasure and pain ..... 49 
 
 Mr. Spencer's criticism of .... 69, 81 
 
 Bible, the, contains no code of scientific ethics . 211 
 
 Bibles, cheap, how produced ..... 184 
 
 Bossuet, on free will ...... 138 
 
 Bradlaugh, Mr. Charles, on socialism and communism 190 
 Brain, the, is the organ rather of pliantasmata than of 
 
 thought 61 
 
 physically considered ..... 250, 252 
 Biichner, Herr, his Kraft tind Stoff .... 
 
INDEX. 
 
 267 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Biiddliism, its special glory ..... 4 
 
 its work for woman ...... 204 
 
 Butler, Bishop, on punishment .... 131 
 
 on the law of conscience ..... 175 
 
 Cfesarism, the principle of .... . 149 
 
 Cambaceres, on legitimate and illegitimate children 29 
 
 Capital, how treated by Socialism .... 189-191 
 
 Carlyle, Mr., on an Englishman's real beliefs . . 120 
 
 on the mechanical conception of the public order 139 
 
 on " the true Church of England " ... 162 
 
 on the Benthamite doctrine . . . ' . 186 
 
 on the lot of the dumb millions .... 199 
 
 Categorical Imperative, the, what it means . . 126 
 
 implies freedora of the will .... 138 
 
 Causal nexus, the, our ignorance of . . . . 61, 246 
 
 Certitude, the highest criterion of . . . . 100 
 
 Chaos, the present industrial, cause of . . . 200 
 
 Chamberlain, Mr., his doctrine of " ransom " . . 198 
 
 Chateaubriand, on Democracy ..... 159 
 
 " Christian Young Men," Professor Huxley's dis- 
 course to ...... . 253 
 
 Christianity, and Conscience ..... 4 
 
 its work for marriage 28, 203-207 
 
 its teaching as to right . . . . . Ill 
 
 just vengeance not at variance with the spirit of 131 
 
 its ethics independent of its specific dogmas . 36,211,244 
 
 Church, Dean, on the invalidation of the idea of purity 31 
 
 Church, the Catholic, and marriage .... 204-207 
 
 Civilisation, is first and before all things, ethical . 152 
 
 the existing, depends upon marriage . . 203 
 Clement Yll., Pojje, his conduct in judging the 
 
 matrimonial cause of Henry VIII. . . 206 
 
 Clifford, Professor, his " idealism " . . . . 9 
 
 Materialism the outcome of his doctrine . . 15, 260 
 
 on free agency ....... 27 
 
 Coleridge, S. T., on Reason ..... 95 
 
 on the distinction between person and thing . 153 
 
 Competition, the regime of .... . 194, 199 
 
268 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Concupiscence, as a foundation of ethics . 
 Conscience, its supreme authority denied . 
 
 the old concejDtion of .... 
 
 Mr. Spencer's account of . 
 
 is the organon of the moral law 
 
 the word of comparatively late origin 
 
 is in a jiermanent state of becoming . 
 
 the public ....... 
 
 reverence for, the first principle of a man's 
 ethical life ...... 
 
 is at the root of the laws of a nation . 
 
 and journalism ...... 
 
 the law of, is supreme over a man's spiritual, intel- 
 lectual, and physical faculties 
 Consciousness, can be predicated in the proper sense 
 only of man ...... 
 
 and right ....... 
 
 Professor Huxley's doctrine of . 
 Consequences, are not a criterion in ethics 
 
 are an element in ratiocination . 
 Contract, all rights do not arise from 
 
 freedom of ...... 
 
 marriage as a 
 
 Contraction, muscular, Professor Huxley on . 
 Co-opei'ation the true basis of the industrial system 
 Cook, Mr. H., on the muddle of certain phj'sicists 
 Crime, is the assei-tion of a man's particular self 
 will against the universal will 
 gives rise to a vinculum juris 
 Cudworth, on truth ...... 
 
 Daudet, M., on anioicrs de chair 
 Delectation and duty ..... 
 
 Democracy, the dominant fact of the age . 
 Derby, the late Earl of, his celebrated feat 
 Determinism ....... 
 
 and crime ....... 
 
 involved in materialistic ethics . 
 
 as taught by Mr. Herbert Spencer 
 
 Mr. Mill's statement of the creed of . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 39 
 6 
 
 45 
 85, 87 
 106 
 107 
 108 
 154 
 
 154 
 
 156 
 
 163, 165 
 
 197 
 
 103 
 
 179 
 
 249 
 
 56 
 
 59 
 
 112 
 
 196 
 
 213 
 
 41 
 
 200 
 
 242 
 
 127 
 133 
 
 167 
 
 21 
 
 49 
 
 159 
 
 144 
 
 25-28,54-55 
 
 136-137 
 
 54 
 
 75-80, 84 
 
 136 
 
INDEX. 
 
 269 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Determinism — continued. 
 
 not taught by St. Thomas Aquinas . 
 
 238 
 
 Devas, Mr. C. S., on the wealth of the rich classes 
 
 197 
 
 Divorce, has no place in the Catholic Church . 
 
 206 
 
 Divorce Court, the, its demoralising effect 
 
 31 
 
 JDocta ignorantia ...... 
 
 65 
 
 Duty, what it means ..... 
 
 48, 104 
 
 and delectation ...... 
 
 49 
 
 Professor Sidgwick on the implication fron 
 
 
 the conception of . 
 
 106 
 
 the sense of, is a form of the mind . 
 
 106 
 
 the first word and the last 
 
 139 
 
 of an employer to his work-people 
 
 194-5 
 
 Ego, the, its individuality and permanency 
 
 60 
 
 Mr. Spencer on . 
 
 77 
 
 Emerson, on the aim in the fine arts 
 
 229 
 
 Erskine, Lord, on liberty of the press 
 
 165 
 
 Ethics, formerly bound up with religions 
 
 4 
 
 actual crisis of . 
 
 4-36 
 
 have rested on metaphysical credenda 
 
 5 
 
 dogmas of, have been the condition of socia 
 
 
 cohesion ....... 
 
 6 
 
 Materialistic ...... 
 
 37-65 
 
 the manufacturers of Materialistic . 
 
 38 
 
 only two schools of . 
 
 39 
 
 Evolutionary ...... 
 
 66-94 
 
 Rational ....... 
 
 95-120 
 
 the, of Punishment ..... 
 
 122-140 
 
 the, of Politics 
 
 141-158 
 
 the, of Journalism ...... 
 
 159-173 
 
 the, of Property 
 
 174-202 
 
 the, of Marriage ..... 
 
 203-220 
 
 the, of Art ....... 
 
 221-236 
 
 and physical science 2 
 
 43, 262-263 
 
 Evolution, exhibits not the cause but the mode oJ 
 
 
 development ....... 
 
 66 
 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer's defiuition of . 
 
 68 
 
 of being, the thi'ee degrees of . 
 
 103 
 
 of the individual ...... 
 
 191 
 
270 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PACK 
 
 Feuillet, M., on the new type of womanhood . . 33 
 
 Fitzgerald, Mr. Justice, on libei'ty of the press . 162 
 
 France, Materialism in ..... . 18 
 
 is the mint of ideas ...... 21 
 
 Freedom, ethical 105, 139 
 
 Freewill, is denied by Materialism in all its schools 25-27, 47, 54 
 
 Mr. Spencer on 74-80 
 
 what it implies ...... 103 
 
 is the form of man's personality . . . 104 
 
 vindicated ....... 136-138 
 
 Bossnet on ....... 138 
 
 not denied by St. Thomas Aquinas . . . 238 
 
 Function, Professor Huxley's definition of the word 250 
 
 Gambetta, M., his political philosophy . . . 151 
 
 George, Mr. Henry, on the gospel of selfishness . 185 
 
 Giffen, Mr., on the condition of the masses . . 188 
 
 Gladstone, Mr., his psychological peculiarities . 145 
 
 Goethe, on majorities ...... 53 
 
 on Kant 227 
 
 on ideality ....... 229 
 
 on the ethical function of the poet . . . 235 
 Green, Professor T. H., on the basis of a man's 
 
 character ....... 138 
 
 on rights and duties ...... 153 
 
 on the end of political organisation . . . 201 
 
 on the passions as material for art . . . 232 
 
 Happiness, what it means as a criterion of action 
 
 accounted by Mr. Spencer the fundamental idea 
 of morals .... 
 
 right cannot be resolved into 
 
 a question-begging word . 
 Hai'rison, Mr. Frederic, his Materialism 
 
 on the present condition of industry 
 Hedonism, its prevalence . 
 
 and ethics ..... 
 
 Mr. Spencer's variety of . 
 
 what its principle requires 
 
 the question for those who hold it 
 
 50 
 
 73, 81, 83 
 
 118 
 
 118 
 
 15 
 
 187 
 
 24 
 
 39 
 
 70 
 
 90 
 
 93 
 
INDEX. 271 
 
 rAOE 
 
 Hegel, on free "will ....... 104 
 
 on jDunisliment . . , ... . . 126 
 
 Hobbes, his doctrine of Right and Wrong . . 148 
 
 Hooker, on law rational ...... 106, 115 
 
 on the penal sanction of law .... 126 
 
 Hugo, Victor, on the paradise of the rich . . 186 
 
 Hume, on the marriage knot ..... 219 
 
 Huxley, Professor, Materialism the practical out- 
 come of his doctrine . . .10, 15, 240, 245-258 
 
 on independent morality ..... 34 
 
 his new morality ...... 37 
 
 his account of human nature .... 40 
 
 treats ethics as a branch of physics . . 42, 243, 263 
 on Mr. Herbert Spencer's evolutionary hypo- 
 thesis ........ 6Q 
 
 is at one with Bentham and Mr. Spencer as to 
 
 the source of ethics ..... 73 
 
 on necessity ....... 80 
 
 on the germination of the higher faculties of 
 
 feeling in the lower forms of life . . . 101 
 
 as a preacher of Idealism ..... 242 
 
 his definition of Materialism .... 245 
 
 on the law of causation ..... 246 
 
 teaches Materialism, as defined by himself . 247 
 
 an amazing illustration of . . . . . 248 
 
 difiiculty of differentiating him from Dr. 
 
 Biichner ....... 249 
 
 his account of consciousness .... 249-252 
 
 his account of thought ..... 251 
 
 on " the extension of the province of what 
 
 we call matter and causation "... 252-254 
 his discourse to the " Christian Young Men " 
 
 of Cambridge ...... 253 
 
 on the progress of modern science . . . 254 
 the preposterous conclusions which flow from 
 
 his premises ....... 267 
 
 has suffered reproach as an obscurantist . . 259 
 
 his doctrine of relativity ..... 259-260 
 
 his Phenominism ...... 261 
 
272 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Hyndman, Mr. H. M., on the ends of Socialism 
 on tlie determination of value . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 187 
 195 
 
 Idealism, is preached, occasionally, by Professor 
 
 Huxley 13, 242, 244, 252, 253 
 
 Ideality, true 229 
 
 Ingram, Professor, on Socialism .... 193 
 
 Inquisition, the Spanish, Montalembcrt on . . 156 
 
 Institutes of Justinian, the, on Slavery ... 43 
 
 Ireland, England's debt in respect of . . . 158 
 
 Islam, vrhat it did for woman . . . . . 204 
 
 ight 
 
 in social 
 
 conducted 
 
 Janet, M., on Herr Biichner 
 Jevons, Professor, on abstract 
 
 matters .... 
 Johnson, Dr., on free will 
 Journalism, its function in this age 
 
 its rights .... 
 
 its duties .... 
 
 what it is, in fact 
 
 the conditions under which it is 
 
 its de-ethecising influence . 
 Junius, on liberty of the press . 
 Jurisprudence, the, object of its machinery 
 
 false independence of . . . 
 
 is the phenomenal expression of noumenal 
 truth .... 
 
 Roman, its recognition of the transcendental 
 foundation of private right . 
 
 its vacillations on the subject of marriage 
 Justice, Ulpian's definition of . 
 
 M. Littre's account of the origin of . 
 
 can be rooted only in the Absolute . 
 
 identical with love and reason . 
 
 is anterior to experience .... 
 
 held by Aristotle to embrace all virtue 
 
 an aboriginal principle of the moral law 
 
 criminal, what makes it just 
 
 Lord Lytton's doctiinc of two kinds of 
 
 18 
 
 177 
 
 136 
 
 161-162 
 
 162-165 
 
 165-167 
 
 167-170 
 
 171-172 
 
 173 
 
 164 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 134 
 
 110 
 
 205 
 
 3 
 
 45 
 
 57 
 
 60 
 
 97 
 
 109 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 147, 154 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Justice — continued. 
 
 the condition of lawful property 
 Jtistnm Fretiuin .... 
 
 273 
 
 PAGK 
 
 194 
 195 
 
 Kant, discredited in the eyes of Materialists . 
 on the philosophy of sensation . 
 on Will ....... 
 
 on the word " ought " 
 on utilitarianism in morals 
 refers its to the judgments of Reason for the 
 explanation of man's intuitive concep- 
 tions . ... 
 
 on the explanation of organic products 
 on the ethical faculty .... 
 
 his test of the ethical worth of conduct 
 finds in the moral law a natural idea of pure 
 Theism ....... 
 
 deduces the institution of the State from the 
 
 categoi'ical imperative of duty 
 on instinct ...... 
 
 on the connection between moral evil and 
 punishment ...... 
 
 on " the distinction of a rational being " . 
 on liberty and morality .... 
 
 on Avhat ought properly to be called Art . 
 Keats, his epitaph ...... 
 
 Kirkman, Mr., his criticism of Mr. Spencer 
 
 5 
 
 17,96. 
 
 25 
 
 53 
 
 56 
 
 102 
 105 
 111 
 
 115 
 
 116-117 
 126 
 
 125 
 135 
 
 154 
 
 227 
 
 166 
 
 78 
 
 Lamb, Charles, on realism in art .... 224 
 
 Landseer, his divinatory faculty and creative 
 
 power ........ 224 
 
 Law, human, not the ultimate ground and only 
 
 measure of right . . . . . . 112 
 
 is merely an adaptation to social wants of the 
 
 eternal truths of ethics .... 114, 134-156 
 
 Law of nature, the, St. Thomas Aquinas on . . 106 
 
 Sir Henry Maine on . . . . . . 113 
 
 what the Roman jurisconsults understood by . 113 
 
274 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Law of nature — continued. 
 
 is an expression of things in their ethical 
 relations 
 
 is the ideal pattern . 
 Law, the criminal, conditions of a reasonable theory 
 of . 
 
 philosophy of the 125-130 
 
 Lecky, Mr., on Utilitarianism and vice 
 
 on the unidealism of the age 
 Lex talionis, the ...... 
 
 Lessing, on the last word in philosophy . 
 Liberty, of the press ... 
 
 and property ...... 
 
 Life, human, its whole value is its ethical value 
 Littr^, M., on the primal fount of morality 
 Locke, on the judgments of most men 
 
 on property 
 Logos, the, in the Fourth Gospel 
 Love, pure, destroyed by Materialism 
 
 is the " travail propre " of woman 
 
 and the thought of eternity 
 
 what it is to the artist 
 Lyndhurst, Lord, Mr. Bagehot on . 
 Lytton, the Earl of, on public morality 
 
 McLennan, Mr., on the earliest form of marriage 
 Madonna, the, the conception idealised in 
 Mazzini, on the Atheism of the century 
 Maine, Sir Henry, on the law of nature 
 
 on the root of the criminal law . 
 
 on Socialism .... 
 Manifesto of the Socialistic League, The 
 Marriage, the work of Christianity for 
 
 and Materialism 
 
 " according to the truth of nature " 
 
 M. Renan on ... . 
 
 true norm of ... . 
 
 civil ...... 
 
 a-nd Socialism .... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 114 
 217 
 
 55 
 
 1.33-134 
 
 48 
 
 225 
 
 131-132 
 
 64 
 
 162-165 
 
 191-192 • 
 
 135 
 
 45 
 
 160 
 
 181 
 
 95 
 
 34 
 
 215 
 
 216 
 
 235 
 
 142 
 
 146-148 
 
 213 
 
 214 
 
 176 
 
 113 
 
 131 
 
 188 
 
 190 
 
 28, 203-207 
 
 28-31 
 
 30 
 
 30 
 
 205, 217-218 
 
 208 
 
 209 
 
INDEX. 
 
 275 
 
 Marriage — contimied. 
 
 primitive ...... 
 
 is, so to speak, a natural sacrament . 
 
 Hume on . 
 
 Balzac on . 
 
 the chastity of woman depends on its 
 solubility 
 Materialism, different types of 
 
 its fundamental positions . 
 
 prevalence of . 
 
 practical effects of 
 
 and prostitution 
 
 and morality 
 
 crass, taught by Mr. Herbert Spencer 
 
 what it means by " refoi'mation " 
 
 and moral approval and disapproval 
 
 in politics ...... 
 
 and Socialism . . . 
 
 and marriage 
 
 indis 
 
 and art ...... 
 
 Professor Huxley's definition of 
 
 as taught by him .... 
 
 and the doctrine of relativity . 
 Maurice, Frederick Denison, on the moralist and 
 
 the politician .... 
 
 Michelet, on the mission of woman . 
 Mill, Mr. John Stuart, on utilitarian morality 
 
 on Determinism .... 
 
 on labour and reward . . 
 
 on the higher ownership . 
 Milton, on liberty of knowledge and speech 
 
 his Speech for the liberty of unlicensed jprhitivg 
 
 on animal ratiocination . . 
 
 Mind, its essential characteinstic 
 "Mind-stuff" ... 
 Modestinus, on Marriage .... 
 jMontaigne, on the laws of conscience and the rules 
 
 of justice ..... 
 Montalembert, oh the Spanish Inquisition 
 
 t2 
 
 PAGE 
 
 213 
 214 
 219 
 219 
 
 220 
 7-1.5, 260 
 15-17, 261 
 17-24, 124 
 25-36, 260 
 32,47 
 37-94 
 77 
 124 
 135 
 141, 148-151 
 193 
 220 
 226 
 245 
 245-258 
 259-262 
 
 158 
 
 215, 218 
 
 49 
 
 136 
 
 185 
 
 198 
 
 163 
 
 165 
 
 222 
 
 261 
 
 9, 260 
 
 218 
 
 108 
 157 
 
276 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Money, the morality of . 
 
 Morality, sec Etliics. 
 
 Morison, Mr. Cotter, his glorification of "the barren 
 
 prostitute " . 
 Morley, Mr; John, his'accotint of moral principles 
 
 on Determinism, .... 
 
 on man as a machine . . . . 
 
 his explanation of the evil in the woi'ld . 
 Morris, Mr. William, on the end of true Socialism 
 Music, is independent of the practical reason . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 48 
 
 47 
 
 43 
 
 47 
 
 47 
 
 123 
 
 190 
 
 221 
 
 Napoleon, the first, believed in nothing but material 
 force ....... 
 
 on the puerility of men .... 
 Natural Right, the doctrine of . . . 
 
 Nature, a vast hierarchy of being . 
 
 Schelling on ..... . 
 
 the law of ...... 
 
 two meanings of the word 
 Naturrecht, the ofiice of . 
 
 the foundation of scientific jurisprudence in 
 Germany ...... 
 
 Necessity, unknown in physical science . 
 
 ethical ....... 
 
 a primary note of the moral law 
 
 the foundation of Right .... 
 Newman, Cardinal, on the incommensurability of 
 
 moral and physical evil .... 
 
 on a certain doctrine of the liberty of the 
 press ....... 
 
 Novel, the modern, is an unacted play 
 
 Nude, the, in art ...... 
 
 148 
 
 160 
 
 97, 112 
 
 101, 102 
 
 102 
 
 113 
 
 177 
 
 3 
 
 44 
 
 80 
 
 104 
 
 105 
 
 112, 180 
 
 56 
 
 163 
 234 
 233 
 
 Opinion, public, Dr. Bain, on . 
 
 how far a force for good . 
 
 what an apjieal to means . 
 
 how formed .... 
 Optimism, not the product of experience 
 
 46 
 
 53 
 
 149 
 
 161 
 
 91 
 
INDEX. 
 
 277 
 
 " Ought," the word, meaningless without " can " . 
 
 cannot be got from physical facts 
 
 Kant on . . . 
 
 denotes the special characteristic of the morally 
 necessary ....... 
 
 Ownership, is a moral entity ..... 
 
 the higher ........ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 25 
 
 52 
 52 
 
 105 
 
 182 
 197 
 
 Paul, St., pn conscience . . 
 
 on punishment ..... 
 
 on the spiritual equality of woman with man 
 
 his view of marriage .... 
 
 Pearson, Mr. Karl, on " the new sex relationship " 
 
 Penal Code, the Italian .... 
 
 " People " the, as Deity .... 
 
 as sovereign 
 
 and the newspapers .... 
 Person, man as a . 
 
 in virtue of what man is a 
 
 punishment a right due to a . 
 
 what the word means 
 
 the, found only in society . 
 Personality, M. Taine's explanation of 
 
 how manifested .... 
 
 to what due 
 
 the essence of . 
 
 and punishment " . . . . 
 
 is the principle of right 
 
 private property necessary to the full idea 
 
 and Socialism ..... 
 Phenomena, what entities really are 
 Phenominism, what it is . 
 
 and mind ...... 
 
 Philosophy, has its traditional bases 
 
 its function ..... 
 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer's 
 
 the new and the old .... 
 
 an eternal .■.'.■. 
 
 of 
 
 6 
 
 133 
 
 205 
 
 214 
 
 209 
 
 122 
 
 151 
 
 160-161 
 
 161-167 
 
 103 
 
 104 
 
 127 
 
 179 
 
 179 
 
 20 
 
 25 
 
 103 
 
 104, 179 
 
 127 
 
 179 
 
 181 
 
 192 
 
 262 
 
 15, 95 
 
 261 
 
 5 
 
 22 
 
 95,96 
 99 
 
278 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pliilosojjhy — continued. 
 
 and the fundamental principles of Ethics . . 100, 101 
 
 Kant's, viewed in its totality . . . . 116 
 
 the, of the criminal laAV ..... 125-139 
 
 of relativity, the, a blasphemy against reason . 134 
 
 of politics ........ 151-156 
 
 of journalism ....... 162-167 
 
 of property ....... 174-183 
 
 of marriage ....... 212-219 
 
 of art 227-233 
 
 materialistic, the, natural fruits of . . . 236 
 
 accounted by Professor HiTxley a shrew . . 241 
 
 Physicus, on the bearing upon Materialism of the 
 
 doctrine of relativity ..... 260 
 
 on Professor Clifford's " mind-stuff " . . 260 
 
 Pius VII. , Pope, his action in the matter of the 
 
 marriage of Jerome Bonaparte .... 207 
 
 Pius IX., Pope, on the liberty of the press . . 163 
 
 Plato, on retributive punishment .... 129 
 
 on human laws ....... 156 
 
 on the function of the artist .... 230 
 
 Pleasure, is the test of ethical value with Materialists 46 
 the only morality derivable from, is the morality 
 
 of money ....... 48 
 
 right condu-ct resolved by Mr. Spencer into the 
 
 pursuit of . ... . ... . 70, 80-85 
 
 will, according to Mr. Spencer, eventually accom- 
 pany every mode of action .... 91 
 
 and happiness ....... 118 
 
 differs in its essence from Right . . 118, 119, 127 
 
 Politics, Materialism in . . . . . . 22, 141 
 
 Pollock, . Sir Frederick, on Professor Clifford's 
 
 " idealism " . . . . . . . 9, 13 
 
 Portraits, the, of this age ; their tale ... 23 
 
 Property, private, the desire for, an element of human 
 
 nature ........ 177 
 
 the ultimate ground of the right to . . . 180 
 
 is necessary to the full idea of personality . 181 
 
 belongs to the moral realm .... 181 
 
INDEX. 
 
 279 
 
 Property — continued. 
 
 its original source not the will of the com 
 
 munity ....... 
 
 is valid only in civil society 
 
 is conditioned by duties .... 
 
 must be orgdnised in the commonwealth 
 
 actual distribution of, not according to reason 
 
 and right 
 socialistic pro^^osals for the redistribution of 
 objections to those proposals 
 the true foundation for the better orderino- of 
 
 o 
 
 the doctrine of, St. Thomas Aquinas con 
 
 cernmg 
 
 what that doctrine implies 
 
 much existing is theft 
 
 is not absolute but fiduciary 
 Prostitution, the apotheosis of . 
 
 Mr. Cotter Morison on 
 Pruriency, in Esthetics, whence 
 Punishment, the utilitarian view of . 
 
 the rational "sdew of . 
 
 is retributive .... 
 
 is a right, not a wrong 
 
 is expiatory .... 
 
 historically considered 
 
 Quinet, on the worship of " The People " 
 
 Rack-renting, on what principle justified 
 Raiment, the, of the nineteenth century . 
 "Ransom," Mr. Chamberlain's doctrine of 
 
 than he deems .... 
 
 Reason, Positivism Phenomenism and Materialism 
 a revolt against .... 
 
 Kant's vindication of its judgments . 
 
 definition of .... . 
 
 the ethical " ought " appeals to 
 
 the dawn of .... . 
 
 is the source of the moral law . 
 
 truer 
 
 PAGE 
 
 182 
 182 
 182 
 183 
 
 183-188 
 
 188-191 
 
 191-193 
 
 193 
 
 194 
 
 194-199 
 
 J 96-197 
 
 197-198 
 
 32 
 
 47 
 
 209 
 122-125 
 125-130 
 
 127 
 127-130 
 
 128 
 
 130 
 
 151 
 
 195 
 223 
 
 198 
 
 testifies that there are natural rights of man 
 
 95 
 96 
 97, 150 
 99 
 103 
 105, 111, 211 
 112 
 
280 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 oral 
 
 Reason — continved. 
 
 and love .... 
 is the root of art 
 Relativity, the philosophy of . 
 
 and piinishment 
 
 is a blasphemy against reason 
 
 and politics 
 
 and journalism . 
 
 and property 
 
 and marriage 
 
 and art .... 
 
 its influence on life . 
 
 as taught by Mr. Spencer . 
 Religion, the onlv effective teacher of m 
 
 sophy to the multitude 
 Renan, M., does not himself know whether ho 
 Materialist 
 
 on marriage 
 
 on personal interest . 
 Right, the history of, one long martyrdom 
 
 two meanings of 
 
 old conception of 
 
 conception of, in the Positivist an 
 mental school 
 
 no room for the idea of, in physics 
 
 no eternal principles of, according to Mr. Sp 
 
 natural, the doctrine of 
 
 and free will .... 
 
 growth of the idea of, in history 
 
 its subjective expressions . 
 
 is absolute, univei'sal, and eternal 
 
 the idea of, simple and aboriginal 
 
 retributive justice an attribute of 
 
 is synonymous with Reason 
 
 obedience due to its law only 
 
 in politics .... 
 
 and property 
 
 and marriage 
 
 and art .... 
 
 hilo- 
 
 is a 
 
 d experi- 
 
 encer 
 
 PAG 
 
 216 
 227 
 95-96 
 125 
 134 
 150 
 168 
 186, 197 
 220 
 2.36 
 260 
 260 
 
 4, 264 
 
 20 
 
 30 
 
 57 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 42,45 
 
 51 
 
 72, 93 
 
 97 
 
 104 
 
 108, 110 
 
 112 
 
 114 
 
 117 
 
 126-130 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 141-158 
 
 177-183 
 
 214-219 
 
 227-236 
 
INDEX. 
 
 281 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Rights, are merely subjective aspects of Right . 2, 114 
 
 how viewed by Materialism .... 43 
 
 Mr. Matthew Arnold on .... . 44 
 
 attach to personality . . 104, 1U9, 114, 178, 213 
 
 not all are the creation of positive law . . 112 
 
 the natural of man have an ideal value . . 114, 180 
 
 sophistical ........ 158 
 
 are conditioned by duties ..... 180, 182, 186 
 
 Romanes, Mr., on natural causation .... 63 
 
 Rousseau, the truth about his state of nature . . 109 
 
 his doctrine of man's natural goodness . . 123 
 
 the practical fruits of his gospel ... 157 
 
 Ruskin, Mr., on contemporary art .... 23 
 
 his account of the acqiiisition of his patrimony 187 
 
 Ryle, Bishop, on the East End of London . . 183 
 
 Sand, George, her rule as to "the real " in art 
 
 Schopenhauer, on the nude in art 
 
 Science, physical, cannot yield a criterion of Right 
 and Wrong ...... 
 
 what law means in . 
 the province of . 
 has and ought to have no creed, moral or 
 religious ...... 
 
 Sensation, a mental fact 
 
 Sentimentality, sickly ..... 
 
 Sherbrooke, Viscount, on abstract right . 
 
 Sidgwick, Professor, on the implication for the con 
 ception of duty 
 
 Socialism, a formidable sympton of the times . 
 its remedy for the misery of the masses 
 is practically identical with Communism . 
 means the undoing of the work of civilisation 
 its Utopias ...... 
 
 is in conflict with man's natural rights 
 
 the realisation of, must be j^revented at all costs 
 
 its real importance ..... 
 
 what it means ...... 
 
 the true answer to .... . 
 
 U 
 
 234 
 233 
 
 51-53, 57 
 
 62 
 
 237-264 
 
 262 
 
 251 
 
 128 
 
 44 
 
 115 
 188 
 189 
 191 
 191 
 192 
 192 
 193 
 193 
 199 
 200 
 
282 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Socialism — -continued. 
 
 objections to the more reasoned and scientific 
 
 kinds of ...... 
 
 and marriage ...... 
 
 Socialistic League, The Manifesto of the . 
 Spencer, Mr. Herbert, his doctrine of the Unknow 
 
 able ....... 
 
 ■ his Materialism ...... 
 
 on the need of a new basis for morality 
 substance of his doctrine .... 
 
 on the true moral motive .... 
 
 his exposition of the doctrine of evolution 
 
 his Data of E tides glorified as his crowning 
 
 achievement ...... 
 
 his account of the evolutionary method in moral 
 
 philosophy ...... 
 
 refers all knowledge and all morality to ex 
 
 perience and expedience 
 the principle upon which he builds in ethics is 
 
 concupiscence ..... 
 
 his account of the faculty of moral intuition 
 denies eternal principles of Right and Wrong 
 his laws of conduct ..... 
 
 the difference between him and Bentham . 
 his non-empiricism ..... 
 
 . his denial of free will .... 
 
 his misuse of metaphysical terms 
 
 an astonishing illustration employed by 
 
 his " Beneficent N'ecessity " . 
 
 his sophisms ...... 
 
 identifies moral goodness with pleasure . 
 his singular method in metaphysics . 
 his account of "the feeling of moral oblig-ation ' 
 his apriorism ...... 
 
 on the transitoriness of the sense of moral 
 
 obligation ...... 
 
 his imaginary ethics ..... 
 
 his " ideal " 
 
 does not take the totality of experience 
 
 12, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 201 
 
 209 
 190 
 
 11, 79 
 
 77, 261 
 37 
 40 
 49 
 
 67 
 
 68 
 
 69 
 
 70 
 71 
 
 72 
 73 
 73 
 
 74 
 
 75,80 
 
 76 
 
 78 
 
 79 
 
 79,87 
 
 80 
 
 83,87 
 
 85,87 
 
 86 
 
 88 
 
 89 
 
 91-92 
 
 92 
 
INDEX. 
 
 283 
 
 Spencer, Mi\ Herbert — continued. 
 
 his use of the word pain . 
 
 summary of his Evolutionary Ethics 
 
 " the vision and the faculty divine" not in him 
 
 on truth ..... 
 
 on property .... 
 
 on work and enjoyment 
 
 on the nude .... 
 
 a wise admonition of . 
 
 the outcome of his teaching 
 Spinoza, on the end of civil society . 
 Spontaneity, Professor Huxley's definition of 
 State, the, is an ethical society . . . 11 
 
 its alt'um domininm . . . 
 
 may largely regulate industry . 
 
 its true end .... 
 
 is no longer Christian 
 
 the old-world view of 
 
 secularisation of the . 
 Stephen, Mr. Leslie, on conscience . 
 
 on the causes of action 
 Stoics, the, their august doctrine 
 
 their formula .... 
 Strikes, what they in truth are 
 Suarez, on reason and the moral law 
 " Sweating," on what principle justified 
 
 Taine M., his philosophy . 
 
 on virtue and vice 
 Taylor, Jeremy, on the Christian State 
 Theism, and Ethics .... 
 Theology, Professor Huxley versus . 
 Transcendentalism, its main tenets . 
 
 marriage as now existing in Europe, its creation 
 
 no modus vivendi possible between it and 
 Materialism ....... 
 
 is not bound up Avith the old dualistic concep- 
 tion ........ 
 
 Trendelenburg, on Right and rights 
 
 7, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 93 
 
 93-94 
 121 
 168 
 
 177-178 
 200 
 232 
 240 
 261 
 152 
 239 
 
 133, 154 
 197 
 201 
 201 
 207 
 208 
 208 
 6 
 39 
 111 
 152 
 200 
 211 
 195 
 
 20 
 27 
 
 208 
 115, 116 
 
 241 
 16 
 28 
 
 61 
 
 63 
 2 
 
284 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Trendelenburg — continued. 
 
 on duty and riglit .... 
 
 on the element of personality in tlie lower 
 animals ...... 
 
 Trent, tlie Council of, on mendacity . 
 
 Turgot, on the presence in our consciousness of the 
 
 first principles of morality 
 Turner, his sombre greatness . 
 Tyndall, Professor, on the soul 
 
 Ulpian, his definition of Justice 
 Universal suffrage, the practical result of 
 Unknowable, the, Professor Huxley on . 
 
 Mr. Spencer <:)n . 
 
 must be a conundrum to most people 
 Utilitarianism, Austin's .... 
 
 and morals ..... 
 
 Mr. Spencer's ..... 
 
 and punishment .... 
 
 Value, and Capital ..... 
 Veuillot, M. Louis, as a journalist . 
 
 Woodman, the, is not a function of his axe 
 Wrong, see Right. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 104 
 
 178 
 171 
 
 101 
 
 224 
 
 17 
 
 3 
 
 149 
 
 10 
 
 11, 79 
 
 12 
 
 2 
 
 42, 48, 49, 56 
 71-72 
 122 
 
 192 
 
 170 
 
 251 
 
 Zanardelli, Signor, on the ends of punishment 
 
 Zola, M., his Materialism . . . . . 
 
 his picture of the famishing Gervaise 
 
 122 
 
 21 
 
 183 
 
 NICHOLS AND SONS, PRINTERS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET, WESTMINSTER. 
 
SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 
 
 ON 
 
 MR. LILLY'S WORKS. 
 
 A CENTIJET OF REVOLUTION. 
 
 By W. S. LILLY. 
 
 Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Demy 8vo, 12.?. 
 
 From the TIMES. 
 
 " Mr. Lilly's book is eminen''ly suggestive, an 1 demaii'l^ most seriou? attention. It is too pliiloso- 
 pliical and profouurl to be light and ea^y reading, but his clear convictions and definite conclusions 
 are expressed in terse and forcible language. He is always logical ; he is fair and candid towards the 
 advocates of the creed he condemns, for when he refutes them they are judged out of their own 
 mouths, and by quotations so precise and self-contained that they are obviously independent of 
 contest." 
 
 From the ATHEN.ffiUM, 
 
 " We repeat our general conclusion that Jlr. Lilly's attack on tlie revolutionnry dogmas is an eloquent 
 and a cogent sequence of facts and arguments which those who dissent from it are bound to weigh 
 and to answer. He has sliowu, wetliink, tliat the doctrine of evolution, which is the widest general- 
 isation to wliich we have yet attained, is absolutely destructive of the ideas of 178!). And he has 
 indicated in many telling passages — the full proof would be beyond the limits of such an essay as he 
 presents to us — that these ideas are not only false in their origin, but mischievous in their applica- 
 tion ; responsible rather for the discouraging than for the hopeful elements in the societies around 
 
 us. and in no way capable of sustaining the enthusiasm which their first promulgation evoked 
 
 this vigorous and timely work." 
 
 From the TABLET. 
 
 "A series of masterly essays treating of the Revolution in its relation to social and moral, rather 
 than political phenomena. Its author, as our readers scarcely require to be told, belongs to that 
 more thouglitful scLiool of historians who are not content to review the events of the past without 
 considering them in tlielr general bearing on humanity at large, and is, therefore, well q';alified to 
 write on a period so familiar in its superficial aspects, yet so inexhaustible as a theme for speculauon 
 and etliical inquiry, as the sanguinary drama which ushered in the revolutionary epocli in Europe. 
 His lucid and nervous diction enables him to be profound without obscurity, and to make clear the 
 metaphysical basis on wliich abstract jiolitical reasoning must ultimately rest. Starting then 
 from that revolutionary dogma of the all-sufficiency of man to liimself and his fellows, promulgated 
 for the first time in any society of liuman beings or in any stage of progress in France during the 
 last century, he proceeds to judge of the moral efficacy of this doctrine by its fruits, and to consider 
 th"! revolution in its relations witli each, of wlxat he terms, the ' four great factors of civilisation as 
 it e.xists in the world — liberty, religion, science, and art.' From these, its more ethical and .-esthetical 
 aspects, he passes to 'examine its connection with the great political fact of this age. commonly 
 callgd democracy,' and indicates, in conclusion, its influence on public life in England. In his 
 chapter on the Rev.ilution and Liberty, which is a masterpiece of sound and forcible reasoning, he 
 brushes away the specious coViwelis of sophistry, on which is reared the rovolutitJnary dogma that 
 liberty resides in political equality. The.se are among the questions raised by Mr. Lilly's thouglitful 
 volume, which, wliile thus suggestive to the student of history, is not less entertaining to tlie 
 general public from tlie happy form in which the author has the art of presenting his ideas to his 
 reader." 
 
 From the MORNING POST. 
 "In considering the effect which the Ilrvohitiou lias had upon liberty, Mr, Lilly an-ive? at the 
 conclusion that its work has been aim )st entirely negative, that it has destroyed restrictions upon 
 the exercise of human power, but that in achieving liberty in the po.sitive sense it has failed. He 
 considers particularly the case of France, which he asserts to have been converted by the Revolution 
 into a ch.aos of hostile individuals, and where, he adils, public spirit has been destroyed. He asks 
 whether freedom can beattrihuted to the French peasant, of whom he finds little, if any, good to say; 
 affirming him to be ' brutalised and utterly selfish, a mere human automaton, a voting animal, in- 
 eapable of realising his powers for the common good.' The artisan class, in France, does not appear 
 to meet with much more approbation, as Mr. Lilly considers it to be saturated with ' tlie anarchic 
 
teaching of Ronsseau,' and puts it clown as a prey to politii'al agitators, who dazzle it ' with visions of 
 socialistic Utopias.' The conchisiou at which the writer arrives is sweeping. He asserts that • the 
 Kevolution in France has shown itself hostile to liberty of person, liberty of property, and liberty of 
 education.' In connection with religion, Mr. Lilly points out that ' hostility to religion is one of the 
 chief clwiracteristics of the Revolution,' adducing in support of that contention the Declaration of 
 Rights, and explaining Gambetta's famous apostrophe, "Le clericalisnie voihi I'ennenii,' by otlier 
 speeches of the same state-man. lie roundly affirms that by clericalism is meant • all religions and all 
 religiosity. As to the relations of the Revolution witli science, Mr. Lilly seeks to prove tliat the facts 
 of Darwinism, that generalisation of science to which tlie Revolution is, he asserts, fond of appealing 
 — that the facts, as opposed to the speculations, of Darwininism are fatal to the fundamental pro- 
 positions of the revolutionary dogma. The chapter on Revolution and Art consists almost entirely of 
 an examination of Zola's method, as the author maintains that naturalism in art is a note of the 
 Revolution : but perliaps the most interesting portion of the work is that dealing with the influence 
 of the Revolution on democracy." 
 
 From the SPECTATOR. 
 
 " Of the many books called Into being by the centenary of the French Revolution, Mr. Lilly has 
 written one of the most striking. His book is a study of the spirit of the Revolution — a diliicult 
 
 task, for which he has been well prepared by his philosophical studies in- European history 
 
 This striking, thoughtful, and interesting book." 
 
 From JOHN BULL. 
 
 " The centenary of '89 has naturally called into existence a great mass of interesting literary 
 matter dealing with tlie French Revolution. But we doubt if it has brought forth anything more 
 interesting from a literary as well as from a political point of view than ilr. W. S. Lilly's ' A Century 
 of Revolution.' The accomplished auttior of that very striking ami remarkable book, entitled 
 'Chapters in European His1;ory,' has the courage of his ojiinions, and feeling strongly, iloes not 
 
 shrink from expressing strongly what he feels We commend most heartily to all our readers 
 
 this most striking study of the results, political and social, of ' A Century of Revolution.' " 
 
 From the SCOTSMAN. 
 
 " There is singular opportuneness in the appearance of Mr. W. S. Lilly's noteworthy book .... a 
 powerful broadside of philosophic argument, dischai-ged point-blank at tlie champion of the 
 ' G-ospel of 1789,' at the moment the preparations are going forward for celebrating tlie iiuUtiig down 
 ■ of the Bastile .... he assails the Revolution in the germ and in the fruit — he hews at root and 
 branch .... he examines the Revolution in the light of a century's experience, its relation to the 
 four great factors of civilisation — liberty, religion, science, and art — and its influence on democracy 
 and on the public life of England." 
 
 GHAPTEES IN EUROPEAN HISTOEY, 
 
 With an Introductory Dialogue on the Philosophy of History. 
 
 By W. S. LILLY. 
 
 2 vols., demy 8to, 21,«. 
 
 From the TIMES. 
 
 " These volumes of Mr. Lilly's are delightful reading, whether he compels our assent to his con- 
 clusions or provokes us to doubt and differ from them. For they arc full of pregnant and suggestive 
 thoughts; we might almost add of subtly ingenious sophistries. He is always original and very 
 often brilliant. 'There are pagis of fervidly impassioned eloquence, and passages in which striking 
 scenes are reproiliiced with wonderfully realistic dramatic power. He has the art of impressing on 
 the reader liis own definite conceptions of the grander figm-es in the misty past, of their characters, 
 
tlieir conduct, and the influences that governed it. Besides that, he brings to a complex and diiTiciilt 
 task a wonderful amount of varicil rpsearcli and reading. He quotes with confident knowledge from 
 recondite authorities. Yet, with all liis eiudition, he is no pedant. Ho is as much at heme with 
 light modern writers as with the aiifients. Nor does he disdain to turn to the papes of fiction for 
 the most faithful pictures of niedia?val life in an Italian He)inblic. So he carries us along from 
 chapter to cliapter. under the spell of his style and the interest of his information ; and yet all the 
 time we are kept lialf unconsciously on the del'ensive, since he flies in the face of popular ideas, as he 
 delights in propounding iiaradoxical ojiinions. We can only repeat that his voliunes are charming 
 wiiile they should bo invaluable as an incentive to intellectual research." 
 
 From the ATHEN^IUM. 
 
 "This review of European ftistory lias the merit of .extreme 'simplicity Jir Lilly is always 
 
 interesting, and his book slioidd be read by every one who has any desire to know wliat are the 
 present tendencies of thought among the most cultivateil class of English Catholics. He sets forth 
 in a bright, animated, and graceful style the results of much reading and rettection, and even those 
 who ditferfrom him most widely will "be pleased by the perfect frankness and lucidity witb which he 
 states his conclusions. 
 
 From the SPECTATOR. 
 
 " llr. Lilly's style has both lucidity and charm It is a common experience to meet with a 
 
 volume which might with advantage have i^een compi-essed into an essay. Here we find sometliing 
 much more unconmion — a volume of essays, almost every one of which would gain in interest and 
 
 value by being expanded into a volume The work of a sincere, searching, and honest thinker 
 
 who never allows his tliought to become reckless and wanton, who never, even in the heat of a 
 moving argument, condescends to those polemical ' points ' which are the bane of edifying discussion, 
 but who leads us with him not by impetuosity, but by the urliane moderation and restraint which 
 proceed from the conviction of wliich the whole work is an outcome, that truth may be left, not 
 ' to take care of itself.' as contemporary phraseology would put it, but to be cared for by One who 
 will never leave it nor forsake it. There is not one of these chapters which may not be studied 
 separately with eujoyuient and intellectual satisfaction, and yet they naturally link theuiselves to 
 
 one another, and have the unity of a common aim They are rich in learning and iii interest ; 
 
 and the work as a whole is one that can be heartily recommended." 
 
 From the TABLET. 
 
 " These vohmies are a worthy sequel to Jlr. Lilly's ' Ancient Religion and Modern Thought.' which 
 we reviewed last year. More varied in matter and not dealing so nmch in pure speculation, they are 
 full of interesting and timely discussion on the problems, religious, social, and political, which cast 
 their shade over modem life. It is needless to praise the learning of so confessedly an erudite man 
 as Mr. Lilly ; the pages bear witness to long-continued and reaching studies of which Ihe results are 
 given in a graceful, polished, persuasive style. The manner is very bright and has the charm of 
 complete sincerity Mr. Lilly speaks what be believes, confideut that truth alone will advan- 
 tage the cause he ha,s at heart." 
 
 From JOHN BULL. 
 
 " !\rr. Lilly's 'Chapters in Eurojiean Bi?tory' form one of the most fascinating and attractive 
 books that we lave met with for a long time. Tlie author has made good u.'-e of his wide and 
 extensive reading, and has a most pleasant way of bringing in. without obtruding, the fruits of liis 
 research. His style is most readable, and would, even if his matter were less valuable in itself, lend 
 a consi<lerable charm to volumes which, as it is. have no small value when w-e regard their matter 
 rather than their manner. The earnestness with which he enforces his views would claim attention 
 for them even if those views were as ill-founded as some hostile critics have asserted. Ihough it is 
 impossible to deny that the author's taste ffr paradoxical utterajices has now and again led to his 
 developing some startling theories, tliose theories are. even when most paradoxical, well worthy of 
 attention. Indeed, there is a subtle and incommunicable charm aboiit the very vein of paradox 
 which runs through the book, and we may well forgive the paradoxes for tlie sake of the charm of 
 freshness and originality which the raie literary skill of the writer lias thrown over them." 
 
 From the ST. JAMESS GAZETTE. 
 
 " Mr. Lilly has earned a deserved reputation for learning, originality, and brilliancy of style. His 
 latest work will confirm this reputation. It is obviously the result of very wide reading ; it is 
 marked by copious and polyglot qnotations, and by a w<;ndrous wealth of paradox and epigram ; and 
 his style is always striking and sometinus startling." 
 
 From VANITY FAIR. 
 
 " Here is an author who knows almost everything that has been written under the sun ; he is a 
 
 vast magazine of facts and ideas ?uch an article as that orr ' The Eighteenth Century ' is so 
 
 admirable that we can only wish we had an exhaustive volume from the same hand." 
 
 From the GRAPHIC 
 
 "Everywhere Mr. Lilly's woi'k is characterised by j rofound thought and much learning, 
 while the theme is made as attractive as its weighty nature will allow, by a luminous and admirable 
 style." 
 
ANCIENT RELIGION AND 
 MODERN THOUGHT. 
 
 By W. S. LILLY. 
 
 Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Demy 8vo, 12s. 
 
 From the SATURDAY REVIEW. 
 
 " We are sincerely glad to welcome a new eiliticjn of tlii-: really valuable and important work 
 
 Most interesting chapters are the third on Eastern Religions, and t)ie fourth on Naturalism and 
 Christianity .... Mr. Lilly's last chapter, on JIatter and Spirit, will repay careful study, and 
 must be carefully stu<lied to have justice done to it." 
 
 From the SPECTATOR. 
 
 " This is a book which evidences not only wide knowledge and much subtlety of thought, but a 
 
 very high dialectic power A more powerful preliminary statement of the case against the 
 
 sceptical school, and especially against the school wliich accounts for conscience as the product of 
 social conditions impressing themselves on the individual life, it would be difficult to find." 
 
 From the ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE. 
 
 " No intelligent reader will fail to recognise the aliility witli which Mr. Lilly deals with the great 
 problems he discusses. He has taken pains to aijpreciate the full significance of tlie arguments which 
 can be advanced against his own position ; and in answering them he manifests not only much 
 ingenuity and resource, but intimate acquaintance mth the writings of many of the most eminent 
 philoiophical writers, both of ancient and of mod.'rn times. The results of his thouglit and research lie 
 presents simply and g;acefully ; an 1 tliere is nothing in the form of his statements to which the 
 most vehemaut of Agnostic, could object as either intolerant or unfair." 
 
 From the TABLET. 
 
 "Tlii; remarkable and original work, fomnled upon essays that had a wide popularity as they 
 appeared in tlie leading Reviews, will be read on all sides with deep interest ; and, as we cannot doubt, 
 
 •will iiiauencp iu many ways the current of contemporary tliiuking It is eviilently a book 
 
 for the times. It abouuls in argummt ami illlmtration that tlia world can comprehend; in large 
 perspectives, out-of-tlie-way facts, and imlooked-for rappruchements. Not .only in matter but ill 
 manner, it is, we think, one of the most suggestive treatises tliat have appeared tills long while, To 
 stuileiits, as to men of the world, it ap^jals with almjst equal cogency, au'l will make its mark, be the 
 readers who they may." 
 
 From the ACADEMY. 
 
 " Tills is an interesting and suggestive book, well written, liearing everywhere the marks of careful 
 study and extensive reading, full of apt quotations, acute, and of cen brilliant criticisms. It is genial, 
 lucicl, and not seldom vivid in stjde, generous iu tone, Catholic in sjririt (iu a sense better than the 
 ecclesiastical), thoughtful iu matter, 3'et never so burdened witli thought as to be hard either to read 
 or to understand Many fine spiritual and jjhilosoplitcil qualities are apparent in this work." 
 
 From the SCOTSMAN. 
 
 " The work I5 one which deals fairly and frankly, and in no narrow or one-sided spirit, with some 
 of the most momentous questions that oiu occupy liuman thought." 
 
 From the DAILY NEWS. 
 
 "Those who are acquainted with Mr. Lilly's writings will not fail to recognise, with emphatic 
 respect, the conspicuous courage and thoroughness with which he confronts the most difficult 
 problems and the most audacious speculations of modern science and philosopliy. the treasures of 
 wide and various rea-ling, and ample armoury of thought and learning which he brings to the 
 controversies in which he seems to feel the delight of battle. His faiiiiliar acquaintance with the 
 languages and literatures of the East, as well as with the transient literatures of the West, makes 
 him a fearless and formidable antagonist for the followers of the latest fashions in pliilosojihy. To 
 believers and unbelievers alike his studies of ancient and modern religions and philosophies, from 
 Buddliism to Niliilism, from Confucius and Zoroaster to Wesley anrl Schopenhauer, are deeply 
 suggestive. No reader will refuse to acknowlelge tlie brilliancy and the vigour of the argument, 
 enriched as it is with all the resources of a nnst accomplishi'd intellect. It seems an odd thing to 
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 IN HISTORY. 
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 CRITICAL AND 
 NEOUS ESSAYS. 
 
 MISCELLA- 
 
 7 vols. 
 
 Or in sets, 37 vols, in 18, 37^-. 
 
 THE LIFE OF SCHILLER, 
 AND EXAMINATION OF HIS 
 WORKS. With Portrait. 
 
 LATTER-DAY PAMPHLETS. 
 
 WILHELM MEISTER. 3 vols. 
 
 LIFE OF JOHN STERLING. 
 
 With Portrait. 
 
 HISTORY OF FREDERICK 
 THE GREAT. 10 vols. 
 
 TRANSLATIONS FROM 
 MUSvEUS, TIECK, AND RICHTER. 
 2 vols. 
 
 THE EARLY KINGS OF NOR- 
 WAY; Essay on the Portraits of Kno.K. 
 
 CHEAP ISSUE. 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. Complete in i vol. With Portrait. 
 Crown 8vo, 2s. 
 
 SARTOR RESARTUS, HEROES AND HERO WORSHIP, PAST 
 AND PRESENT, AND CHARTISM. Complete in 1 vol. Crown 8vo, 2s. 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL'S LETTERS AND SPEECHES. Crown 8vo, 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 CRITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS. 2 vols. 
 
 4s. 
 
 WILHELM MEISTER. i vol. 2s. 
 
 SIXPENNY EDITION. 
 
 4/^, scived. 
 SARTOR RESARTUS. Eightieth Thousand. 
 HEROES AND HERO WORSHIP. 
 
 ESSAYS : Burns, Johnson, Scott, The Diamond Necklace. 
 The above in I vol., cloth, 2s. 60I, 
 
CHAPMAN &= HALL, LIMITED. 31 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) WORKS. 
 
 ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 
 In demy 8vo. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD. With Illustrations 
 
 by S. L. Fildes, and a Portrait engraved by Baker. Cloth, 7s. fid. 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. With Forty Illustrations by Marcus 
 
 Stone, Cloth, ;^ I is. 
 
 THE PICKWICK PAPERS. With Forty-three Illustrations 
 
 by Seymour and Phiz. Cloth, £,x is. 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 Cloth, £,\ IS. 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ." With Forty Illustrations by George 
 
 Cruikshank. Cloth, £,\ is. 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 Cloth, £,\ IS. 
 
 DOMBEY AND SON. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 Cloth, £\ IS. 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 Cloth, £\ IS. 
 
 BLEAK HOUSE. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. Cloth, 
 
 £,1 IS. 
 
 LITTLE DORRIT. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. Cloth, 
 
 £\ IS. 
 
 THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. With Seventy-five Illus- 
 
 trations by George Cattermole and H. K. Browne. A New Edition. Uniform with 
 the other volumes, £,\ is. 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE : a Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty. With 
 
 Seventy-eight Illustrations by George Cattermole and H. K. Browne. Uniform with 
 the other volumes, £,\ is. 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS: Containing— The Christmas Carol; 
 
 The Cricket on the Hearth ; The Chimes ; The Battle of Life ; The Haunted House. 
 With all the original Illustrations. Cloth, 12s. 
 
 OLIVER TWIST and TALE OF TWO CITIES. In one 
 
 volume. Cloth, £1 is. 
 
 OLIVER TWIST. Separately. With Twenty-four Illustrations 
 
 by George Cruikshank. Cloth, iis. 
 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES. Separately. With Sixteen Illus- 
 trations by Phiz. Cloth, gs. 
 
 *,* The remainder of Dickens's Works were not originally printed in demy 8vo. 
 
32 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED B Y 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) \NO^YJ^.— Continued. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 In post 8vo. With the Original Illustrations, ^ovols., cloth, £12. 
 
 PICKWICK PAPERS 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 39 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 40 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP & REPRINTED PIECES 36 
 
 BARKABY RUDGE and HARD TIMES 36 
 
 BLEAK HOUSE 40 
 
 LITTLE DORRIT 40 
 
 DOMBEY AND SON 38 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD 38 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND 40 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ " 39 
 
 OLIVER TWIST 24 
 
 17 
 16 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS 
 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 
 
 PICTURES FROM ITALY & AMERICAN NOTES 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER 
 
 CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND 
 
 EDWIN DROOD and MISCELLANIES 12 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES from "Household Words," &c. 
 
 Uniform luith the chore, los. 6d. 
 THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. By John FoRSTER. With Illustrations. 
 
 A NEW EDITION OF ABOVE, WITH THE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRA- 
 TIONS, IN LARGE CROWN 8vo, 30 VOLS. IN SETS ONLY. 
 
 43 lUustrns. , 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 I 
 1 
 I 
 
 14 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vols. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 vol. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 16 o 
 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 16 
 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 8 
 
 THE "CHARLES DICKENS" EDITION. 
 In Crown S>vo, In 21 vols., cloth, with Illustrations, £3 i6s. 
 
 PICKWICK PAPERS 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 
 
 DOMBEY AND SON 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD 
 
 BLEAK HOUSE 
 
 LITTLE DORRIT ... 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE... 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 
 
 A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND 
 
 EDWIN DROOD and OTHER STORIES ... 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES, from " Household Words 
 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ" 
 
 AMERICAN NOTES and REPRINTED PIECES 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS 
 
 OLIVER TWIST 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 
 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES 
 
 HARD TIMES and PICTURES FROM ITALY 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER 
 
 THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. Numerou 
 
 Utii/ortn itith the above. 
 THE LETTERS OF CHARLES DICKENS ...2 vols, 
 
 
 
 s. d. 
 
 8 Illustrations . 
 
 . 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 . 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 ■ 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 . 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 4 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 4 
 
 
 •3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 ■ 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 6 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 
 
 8 
 
 
 • 3 
 
 4 
 
 
 • 3 
 
 strations 
 
 2 vols 
 
 i. 7 
 
CHAPMAN ^ HALL, LIMITED. 33 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) W'O^Y.^.— Continued. 
 
 THE ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 (WITH LIFE.) 
 
 Complete in 32 Volumes. Demy 8vo, los. each ; or set, £rb. 
 
 This Edition is printed on a finer paper and in a larger type than has been 
 employed in any previous edition. The type has been cast especially for it, and 
 the page is of a size to admit of the introduction of all the original illustrations. 
 
 No such attractive issue has been made of the wiritings of Mr. Dickens, which, 
 various as have been the forms of publication adapted to the demands of an ever 
 widely-increasing popularity, have never yet been worthily presented in a really 
 bandscme library form. 
 
 The collection comprises all the minor writings it was Mr. Dickens's wish to 
 preserve. 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ." With 40 Illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS. 2 vols. With 42 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 OLIVER TWIST. With 24 Illustrations by Cruikshank. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phis. 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP and REPRINTED PIECES. £ vols. With Illus- 
 trations by Cattermole, &c. 
 BARNABY RUDGE and HARD TIMES. 2 vols. With Illustrations by 
 
 Cattermole, &c. 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PICTURES FROM ITALY. i vol With 
 
 8 Illustrations. 
 DOMBEY AND SON. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 BLEAK HOUSE. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. -^ 
 
 LITTLE DORRIT. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES. With 16 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. With 17 Illustrations by Sir Edwin- Landseer, R.A., 
 
 Maclise, R.A., &c. &c. 
 fllSTORY OF ENGLAND. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. (From "Household Words" and "All the Year 
 
 Round.") With 14 Illustrations. 
 EDWIN DROOD AND OTHER STORIES. With 12 Illustrations by 
 
 S. L. Fildes. 
 LIFE C F CHARLES DICKENS. By John Forster. With Portraits. 2 vols. 
 
 net separate.) 
 
34 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) ^O^Y^^.— Continued. 
 
 THE POPULAR LIBRARY EDITION 
 
 OF THE WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS, 
 
 In 30 Vols. , large crown %vo, price £6 ; sepa-rate Vols. 4f. each. 
 An Edition printed on good paper, each volume containing 16 full-page 
 Illustrations, selected from the Household Edition, on Plate Paper. 
 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ." 
 PICKWICK. 2 vols. 
 OLIVER TWIST. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 2vols. 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2 vols. 
 DOMBEY AND SON. 2 vols, 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 2 vols. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 2 vols. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
 BLEAK HOUSE. 2 vols. 
 LITTLE DORRIT. 2 vols. 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP and 
 REPRINTED PIECES. 2 vols. 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE. 2 vols. 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 
 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 
 CHILD'S HISTORY OF 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 EDWIN DROOD and MISCEL- 
 LANIES. 
 
 PICTURES FROM ITALY And 
 AMERICAN NOTES. ' 
 
 HOUSEHOLD EDITION. 
 (WITH LIFE.) 
 
 In 22 Volumes, Crown a^to, cloth, £\ Zs, 6d. 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, with 59 Illustrations, ss. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD, with 60 Illustrations and a Portrait, 5s. 
 BLEAK HOUSE, with 61 Illustrations, 5s. 
 LITTLE DORRIT, with 58 Illustrations, 53. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS, with 56 Illustrations, 5s. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, with 58 Illustrations, 5s. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, with 59 Illustrations, 5s. 
 DOMBEY AND SON, with 61 Illustrations, 5s. 
 
 EDWIN DROOD ; REPRINTED PIECES ; and other Stories, with 30 Illustra- 
 tions, 5s. 
 THE LIFE OF DICKENS. By John Forster. With 40 Illustrations, ss, 
 BARNABY RUDGE, with 46 Illustrations, 4s. 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, with 32 Illustrations, 4s. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES, with 23 Illustrations, 4s. 
 OLIVER TWIST, with 28 Illustrations, 3s. 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS, with 26 Illustrations, 3s. I 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ," with 36 Illustrations, 3s. 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, with 26 Illustrations, 3s. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS, with 28 Illustrations, 3s. 
 THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, with 15 Illustrations, 3s. 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PICTURES FROM ITALY, with 18 Illustrations, 3s. 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES, with 25 Illustrations, 3s. 
 HARD TIMES, with 20 Illustrations, 2s. 6d. 
 
CHAPMAN ^ HALL, LIMITED. 35 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) \^O^YiS>.— Continued. 
 
 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF CHARLES DICKENS, 
 
 ENTITLED 
 
 THE CROWN EDITION, 
 
 Is no7v being PUBLISHED MONTHLY. 
 The Volumes will contain ALL THE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Letterpress will be printed from Type expressly cast for this Edition. 
 LARGE CROWN OCTAVO. PRICE FIVE SHILLINGS. 
 
 T/ie Volumes will appear in the following order: 
 
 I. -THE PICKWICK PAPERS. With Forty-three Illustrations by 
 Seymour and Phiz. \Ready. 
 
 2.— NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 \_Ready. 
 3.— DOMBEY AND SON. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 \April 2,oih, 
 
 4.— DAVID COPPERFIELD. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz, 
 
 [May 3IJA 
 
 5.— SKETCHES BY " BOZ." With Forty Illustrations by Geo. 
 Cruikshank. [Jitne T,otk. 
 
 6.— MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 7.— THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. With Seventy-five Illustra- 
 tions by George Cattermole and H. K. Browne. 
 
 8.— BARNABY RUDGE : a Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty. With Seventy- 
 eight Illustrations by George Cattermole and H. K. Browne. 
 
 9.— OLIVER TWIST and TALE OF TWO CITIES. In One 
 
 Volume. 
 
 10.— CHRISTMAS BOOKS. With Forty-three Illustrations by Landsser, 
 Maclisp, Stansfeld, Leech, etc. 
 
 11.— BLEAK HOUSE. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 12. — LITTLE DORRIT. With Forty Illustrations by Phiz. 
 
 13.— OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. With Forty Illustrations by'MARCUS 
 Stonf. 
 
 etc. etc, etc. 
 
36 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) \^O^YJS>.~Continued. 
 
 THE CABINET EDITION. 
 
 In 32 vols, small fcap. 8vo, Marble Paper Sides, Cloth Backs, with uncut 
 edges, price Eighteenpence each. 
 
 Each Volume contains Eight Illustrations reproduced from the Originals. 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT, 2 vols. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD, 2 vols. 
 OLIVER TWIST. 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 2 vols. 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ." 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
 THE PICKWICK PAPERS, 2 vols. 
 BARNABY RUDGE, 2 vols. 
 BLEAK HOUSE, 2 vols. 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PIC- 
 TURES FROM ITALY. 
 
 EDWIN DROOD ; AND OTHER 
 
 STORIES. 
 THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, 
 
 2 vols. 
 A CHILD'S HISTORY OF 
 
 ENGLAND. 
 DOMBEV AND SON, 2 vols. 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 LITTLE DORRIT, 2 vols. 
 MUTUAL FRIEND, 2 vols. 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 UNCOMMERCIALTRAVELLER 
 REPRINTED PIECES. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS'S CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 
 REPRINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL PLATES. 
 
 Illustrated by John Leech, D. Maclise, R.A., R. Doyle, 
 C. Stanfield, R.A., etc. 
 
 Fcap. cloth, IS. each. Complete in a case, js. 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL IN PROSE. 
 THE CHIMES : A Goblin Story. 
 THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH : A Fairy Tale of 
 
 Home. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE. A Love Story. . 
 
 THE HAUNTED MAN AND THE GHOST'S STORY. 
 
 SIXPENNY REPRINTS. 
 
 READINGS FROM the WORKS of CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 As selected and read by himself and now published for the first lime. Illustrated. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL, and THE HAUNTED MAN. 
 
 By Charles Dickens. Illustrated. 
 THE CHIMES: A Goblin Story, and THE CRICKET 
 
 ON THE HEARTH. Illustrated. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE: A Love Story, HUNTED 
 
 DOWN, and a HOLIDAY ROMANCE. Illustrated. 
 
 The last Three Volumes as Christmas Works, 
 
 In One Volume, red cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
CHAPMAN b' HALL, LIMITED. 37 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) V^O^Y^^.— Continued. 
 A NEW EDITION OF 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS'S COMPLETE WORKS, 
 
 EN'TITLED 
 
 THE PICTORIAL EDITION, 
 
 Will be issued in Monthly Parts, royal 8vo, at 
 
 OHE SHILLING EACH. 
 
 Each Part will contain 192 pages of Letterpress, handsomely- 
 printed, and, besides full-page Plates on plate paper, about 
 24 Illustrations inserted in the Text. 
 
 The Edition will be completed in about Thirty-Seven Parts, and will 
 
 contain in all — 
 
 UPWARDS OF NINE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 
 DOMBEY AND SON. 3s. 6d. ^No-^ ready. 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 3s. 6d. \Xow ready. 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. . \Ko^.^ being hsned in Parts. 
 
 PROSPECTUSES AND SHOWCARD3 ON APPLICATION. 
 
 MR. DICKENS'S READINGS- 
 
 Fcap, Svo, sewed. 
 CHRISTMAS CAROL IN PROSE, is. 
 
 CRICKET ON THE HEARTH, is. 
 
 CHIMES: A GOBLIN STORY, is. 
 
 STORY OF LITTLE DOMBEY. is. 
 
 POOR TRAVELLER, BOOTS AT THE HOLLY-TREE 
 INN, and MRS. GAMP. is. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL, with the Original Coloured Plates. 
 Being a reprint of the Original Edition. With red border lines. Small Svo, 
 red cloth, gilt edges, 5s. 
 
38 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 % JToumal for ^Tfaci^ers anU StuUents. 
 
 The Official Organ of the Science and Art Teachers' Association. 
 MONTHLY, THKEEPENCE; POST FREE, FOURPENCE. 
 
 The Journal contains contributions by distinguished men ; short papers by prominent 
 teachers ; leading articles ; correspondence ; answers to questions set at the May Examina- 
 tions of the Science and Art Department ; and interesting news in connection with the 
 scientific and artistic world. 
 
 PRIZE COMPETITION. 
 
 With each issue of the Journal, papers or drawings are offered for Prize Competition, 
 extending over the range of subjects of the Science and Art Department and City and 
 Guilds of London Institute. 
 
 Thare are thousands of Science and Art Schools and Classes in the United Kingdom, 
 but the teachers connected wiih these institutions, although engaged in the advancement 
 of identical objects, are seldom known to each other except through personal friendship. 
 One object of the Jotirnal is to enable those engaged in this common work to com- 
 municate upon subjects of importance, with a view to an interchange of ideas, and the 
 establishment of unity of action in the various centres. 
 
 lERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 ONE YEARS SUBSCRIPTION (includiog postage) 4s. Od. 
 
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 Cheques and Post Office Orders to be made payable to 
 
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 Agents for the Science and Art Department of the Committee of 
 
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 SOLUTIONS TO THE QUESTIONS IN PURE MATHE- 
 MATICS— Stages I and 2— SET AT THE SCIENCE AND ART 
 EXAMINATIONS from i88i to i886. By Thomas T. Rankin, C.E., 
 Rector of the Gartsherrie Science School, and West of Scotland Mining 
 College. Crown 8vo, 2s. 
 
 SOLUTIONS TO THE QUESTIONS SET IN THE 
 FOLLOWING SUBJECTS AT THE MAY EXAMINATIONS 
 OF THE SCIENCE AND ART DEPARTMENT ANTERIOR 
 
 TO 1887. 
 
 1. Animal Physiology ... From 188 1 to 1886. 
 
 2. Hygiene ... 
 
 3. Building Construction ... 
 
 4. Machine Construction ... 
 
 5. Agriculture 
 
 6. Magnetism and Electricity 
 
 7. Physiography 
 
 00 i 00/: r with Notes 
 18S4 to 1886 \ ^^^ j^^^,^_^_ 
 
 1 88 1 to 1886. 
 1881 to 1886. 
 1 88 1 to 1886. 
 1881 to 1886. 
 1 88 1 to 1886. 
 
 Each Subject will be dealt with in a Separate Voliivie, which will contain 
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 Price IS. 6d. each. 
 
CHAPMAN &^ HALL, LIMITED. 39 
 
 ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, 1887, 1888, & 1889. 
 
 SOLUTIONS TO THE (^\5'^^1110'^^ [.Elementary and Advanced) 
 set at the Exai)iinations of the Science and Art Department of May, 1887, 
 1888, and 1889, are published as under, each subject an! year being kept 
 distinct, and issued in pamphlet form separately. Crown 2>vo, 2d. each. 
 
 1. Animal Physiol^y. By J.H.E.Brock, M.D., B.S.{Lond.), F.R.C.S. 
 
 (Eng.), D.P.H. (Univ. of Lond.) 
 
 2. Building Construction. By H. Adams, C.E., M.I.M.E. 
 
 3. Theoretical Mechanics. By J. C. Fell, M.I.M.E., E. Pillow, 
 
 M.I.M.E., and H. Angel. 
 
 4. Inorganic Chemistry (Theoretical). By Rev. F. W. Harnett, M.A., 
 
 and J. J. Pilley, F.C.S.,.F.R.M.S. 
 
 5. Ditto, Alternative Course. By J. Howard, F.C.S. 
 
 6. Magnetism and Electricity. By W. Hibbert, F.I.C., A.I.E.E, 
 
 7. Physiogravhy. By W. Rheam, B.Sc, and W. S. Furneaux, 
 
 F.R.G.S. 
 
 8. Practical Plane and S||piD Geometry. By H. Angel. 
 
 9. Art — Third Grade. Perspective. By A. Fisher and S. Beale. 
 ID. Pure Mathematics. By R. R. Steel, F.C.S., and H. Carter, B.A. 
 
 11. Machine Construction and Drawing. By H. Adams, C.E., 
 
 M.I.M.E. 
 
 12. Principles of Agriculture. By H. J. Webb, Ph.D., B.Sc. 
 
 13. Sound, Light, and Heat. By C. A. Stevens and F. Carrodus, 
 
 Assoc. N.S.S. 
 
 14. Hygiene. By J. J. Pilley, F.C.S., F.R.M.S. 
 
 15. Inorganic Chemistry (Practical). By J. Howard, F.C.S. 
 
 16. Applied Mechanics. For 1888 and 1889 only. By C. B. Outon, 
 
 Wh.Sc. 
 
 17. Alternative Elementary Physics. By W. Hibbeit, F.I.E., 
 
 A.S.I.E, For 1889 only. 
 
 Price of each Pamphlet [dealing with both Elementary and Advanced Papers 
 for a single year), 2d. net, postage included. 
 
40 
 
 CHAPMAN b' HALL, LIMITED. 
 
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 THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. 
 
 Edited by FRANK HARRIS. 
 HE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW is published on the ist of 
 every month, and a Volume is completed every Six Months. 
 The following are among the Conhibutors : — 
 
 ADMIRAL LORD ALCESTER. 
 
 GRANT ALLEN. 
 
 SIR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK. 
 
 AUTHOR OF '-GREATER BRITAIN.' 
 
 PROFESSOR BAIN. 
 
 SIR SAMUEL BAKER. 
 
 PROFESSOR BEESLY. 
 
 PAUL BOURGET. 
 
 BARON GEORGE VON BUNSEN. 
 
 DR. BRIDGES. 
 
 HON. GEORGE C. BRODRICK. 
 
 JAMES BRYCE, M.P. 
 
 THOMAS BURT, M.P. 
 
 SIR GEORGE CAMPBELL, M.P. 
 
 THE EARL OF CARNARVON. 
 
 EMILTO CASTELAR. 
 
 RT. HON. J. CHAMBERLAIN, M.P. 
 
 PROFESSOR SIDNEY COLVIN. 
 
 THE EARL COMPTON. 
 
 MONTAGUE COOKSON, Q.C. 
 
 L. H. COURTNEY, M.P. 
 
 G. H. DARWIN. 
 
 SIR GEORGE W. DASENT. 
 
 PROFESSOR A. V. DICEY. 
 
 PROFESSOR DOWDEN. 
 
 RT. HON. M. E. GRANT DUFF. 
 
 RIGHT HON. H. F.WVCETT, M.P. 
 
 ARCHDEACON FARRAR. 
 
 EDWARD A. FREEMAN. 
 
 J. A. FROUDE. 
 
 MRS. GARRET-ANDERSON. 
 
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 HERBERT SPENCER. 
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 LESLIE STEPHEN. 
 
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 (Warden of Keble College). 
 SIR RICHARD TEMPLE, Bart. 
 HON. LIONEL A. TOLLEMACHE. 
 H. D. TRAILL. 
 PROFESSOR TYNDALL. 
 A. J. WILSON. 
 
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 THE EDITOR. 
 
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