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national secula&society
;m.
THE PHILOSOPHY
OF
SECULARISM.
BY
GE W. FOOTE.
Price Twopence,
London :
THE PIONEER PRESS,
61 Farringdon Street, E.C. 4.
�This pamphlet was originally published in 1879, and reissued
a few years later.
It is again published with such alterations
as the lapse of time has rendered advisable.
�0
Wis7
THE PHILOSOPHY OF SECULARISM.
The present age is one of theological thaw. The Re
formation is by some regarded as the most remarkable
and important religious movement of modern times;
while others consider as still more portentious that
sceptical movement of last century, which culminated
in the lightnings and thunders of the Revolution, and
finally cleared the intellectual atmosphere of its densest
and most oppressive clouds of superstition. But pro
bably it will be found that the nineteenth century, which
was not, as some writers seem to imagine, rudely severed
from its predecessor, has continued less tumultuously,
because amidst fewer impediments, the critical work of
the eighteenth, and is no less a period of religious dis
integration and reconstruction. Traditional beliefs are
being silently subverted by new agencies. Science, in
stead of critically attacking supernatural religion, has
surely and irretrievably sapped its foundations. The
-educated intelligence of to-day is not required to discuss
minor points of doctrine and ritual, or the internal dis
crepancies of revelation, but finds itself confronted with
the supreme all-subsuming question of whether the very
essentials of faith can be maintained in the presence of
the indubitable truths of science, and of the rigorous
habit of mind it engenders. Heretics, too, are less
vigorously cursed for their wicked obstinacy, a sure sign
of theological decadence. On the contrary, when they
happen to be eminent in science or literature they are
usually treated with marked respect; and the apologetic
tone, which heresy has long discarded, is now assumed
by those who have hitherto claimed to speak with
authority. If the Reformation broke the infallibility of
�4
THE PHILOSOPHY
the Pope, and secured liberty and progress for Pro
testants ; if the Revolution drove feudalism and mental
tyranny from their strongholds in France, and enlisted
the bright, quick French intellect once for all in the ser
vice of reason and freedom, it is no less true that the
scientific movement of our age, which is co-extensive
with civilization, is doing a vaster though not more
necessary work, and is slowly but surely preparing for
that great Future, whose lineaments none of us can pre
sume to trace, although here and there an aspect flashes
on some straining vision.
The old faiths ruin and rend, and the air is vocal with
the clamour of new systems, each protesting itself the
Religion of the Future. Sweet sentimental Deism
claims first attention, because it retains what is thought
to be the essence of old beliefs after discarding their
reality. Next perhaps comes Positivism,1 far nobler
and more vital, which manages to make itself well
heard, having a few strong and skilful pleaders, who
never lose sight of their creed whatever subject they
happen to be treating. But Secularism, which in England
at least is numerically far more important than Posi
tivism, although gladly heard by thousands of common
people, is insufficiently known in circles of highest
education where its principles are most powerfully
operant. Yet the word secular is entering more and
more into our general vocabulary, and in especial has
become associated with that view of national education
which denies the propriety of religious teaching in Board
1 Positivism is exceedingly well represented in England, and
there are many points of resemblance between Positivism and
Secularism. Indeed the resemblance would be almost complete if
the Positivists in ignoring theology did not make a god of Comte,
and with amazing disregard of that historic development they so
emphasize, venerate all his later aberrations, as though he or any
man could justly assume to prescribe the ways in which, through all
succeeding generations, a great idea shall realize itself in practice.
�OF SECULARISM.
5
Schools. This use of the word points to the principle
on which Secularism is based. The interests of this
world and life are secular, and can be estimated and
furthered by our unaided intellects; the interests of
another life and world can be dealt with only by ap
pealing to Revelation. Secularism proposes to cultivate
the splendid provinces of Time, leaving the theologians
to care for the realms of Eternity, and meaning to
interfere with them only while their pursuit of salvation in
another life hinders the attainment of real welfare in this.
Were I obliged to give an approximate definition of
Secularism in one sentence I should say that it is natur
alism in morals as distinguished from supernaturalism ;
meaning by this that the criterion of morality is derivable
from reason and experience, and that its ground and
guarantee exist in human nature independently of any
theological belief. Mr. G. J. Holyoake, whose name is
inseparably associated with Secularism, says : “ Secular
ism relates to the present existence of man and to actions
the issue of which can be tested by the experience of
this life.” And again: “ Secularism means the moral
duty of man deduced from considerations which pertain
to this life alone. Secularism purposes to regulate
human affairs by considerations purely human.” The
second of these quotations is clearly more comprehen
sive than the first, and is certainly a better expression
of the view entertained by the vast majority of Secu
larists. It dismisses theology from all control over the
practical affairs of this life, and banishes it to the region
of speculation. * The commonest intelligence may see
that this doctrine, however innocent it looks on paper, is
in essence and practice revolutionary. It makes a clean
sweep of all that theologians regard as most significant
and precious. Dr. Newman, in his Grammar of Assent,
writes : “ By Religion I mean the knowledge of God, of
his will, and of our duties towards him ” ; and he adds
�6
THE PHILOSOPHY
that the channels which Nature furnishes for our ac
quiring this knowledge “ teach us the Being and Attri
butes of God, our responsibility to him, our dependence
on him, our prospect of reward or punishment, to be
somehow brought about, according as we obey or dis
obey him.” A better definition of what is generally
deemed religion could not be found, and such religion as
this Secularism will have no concern with. From their
point of view orthodox teachers are justified in calling
it irreligious; but those Secularists who agree with
Carlyle that whoever believes in the infinite nature of
Duty has a religion, repudiate the epithet irreligious
just as they repudiate the epithet infidel, for the popular
connotation of both includes something utterly inap
plicable to Secularisrh as they understand it. Properly
speaking, they assert, Secularism is not irreligious, but
untheological; yet, as it entirely excludes from the
sphere of human duty what most people regard as
religion, it must explain and justify itself.
Secularism rejects theology as a guide and authority
in the affairs of this life because its pretentions are not
warranted by its evidence. Natural Theology, to use a
common but half-paradoxical phrase, never has been
nor can be aught but a body of speculation, admirable
enough in its way perhaps, but quite irreducible to the
level of experience. Indeed, one’s strongest impression
in reading treatises on that branch of metaphysics is
that they are not so much proofs as excuses of faith, and
would never have been written if the ideas sought to be
verified had not already been enounced in Revelation.
As for Revealed Religion, it is based upon miracles, and
these to the scientific mind are altogether inadmissible,
being terribly discredited. In the first place, they are
at variance with the general fact of order in Nature, the
largest vessel or conception into which all our experi
ences flow; adverse to that law of Universal Causation
�OF SECULARISM.
7
which underlies all scientific theories and guides all
scientific research. Next, the natural history of miracles
show us how they arise, and makes us view them as
phenomena of superstition, manifesting a certain co
herence and order because the human imagination which
gave birth to them is subject to laws however baffling
and subtle. All miracles had their origin from one and
the same natural source. The belief in their occurrence
invariably characterizes certain stages of mental develop
ment, and gradually fades away as these are left farther
and farther behind. They are not historical but psycho
logical phenomena, not actual but merely mental, not
proofs but results of faith. The miracles of Christianity
are no exception to this rule; they stand in the same
category as all others. As Matthew Arnold aptly ob
serves : “The time has come when the minds of men no
longer put as a matter of course the Bible miracles in a
class by themselves. Now, from the moment this time
commences, from the moment that the comparative
history of all miracles is a conception -entertained, and a
study admitted, the conclusion is certain, the reign of
the Bible miracles is doomed.” Lastly, miracles are
discredited for the reason that, if we admit them, they
prove nothing but the fact of their occurrence. If God
is our author, he has endowed us with reason, and to the
bar of that reason the utterances of the most astounding
miracle-workers must ultimately come; if condemned
there, the miracles will afford them no aid ; if approved
there, the miracles will be to them useless. Miracles,
then, are fatally discredited in every way. Yet upon
them all Revelations are founded, and even Christianity,
as Dr. Newman urged against the orators of the Tamworth Reading Room, “ is a history supernatural, and
almost scenic.” Thus if Natural Theology is merely
speculative and irreducible to the level of experience,
Revealed Religion, though more substantial, is erected
�THE PHILOSOPHY
upon a basis which modern science and criticism have
hopelessly undermined.
Now, if we relinquish belief in miracles we cannot
retain belief in Special Providence and the Efficacy of
Prayer, for these are simply aspects of the miraculous.1
Good-natured Adolf Naumann, the young German
artist in Middlemavch, was not inaccurate though
facetious in assuring Will Ladislaw that through him,
as through a particular hook or claw, the universe was
straining towards a certain picture yet to be printed:
for every present phenomenon, whether trivial or im
portant, occurs here and now, rather than elsewhere and
at some other time, by virtue of the whole universal
past. All the forces of Nature have conspired to place
where it is the smallest grain of sand on the sea-shore,
just as much as their interplay has strewn the aether floated constellations of illimitable space. The slightest
interference with natural sequence implies a disruption
of the whole economy of things. Who suspends one
law of Nature suspends them all. The pious supplicator
for just a little rain in time of drought really asks for a
world-wide revolution in meteorology. And the dullest
intellects, even of the clerical order, are beginning to see
this. As a consequence, prayers for rain in fine weather,
or for fine weather in time of rain, have fallen almost
entirely into disuse; and the most orthodox can now
enjoy that joke about the clerk who asked his rector
what was the good of praying for rain with the wind in
that quarter. Nay more, so far has belief in the efficacy
of prayer died out, that misguided simpletons who
1 We often hear Prayer defended on emotional grounds, not as
a practical request but as a spiritual aspiration. This, however,
merely proves the potency of habit. The “ Lord’s Prayer ” con
tains a distinct request for daily bread. The practice of prayer
originated when people believed that something could be got by
it, and those who pray now with so much belief are slaves to the
fashion of their ancestors.
�OF SECULARISM.
9
persist in conforming to apostolic injunction and prac
tice, and in taking certain very explicit passages in the
Gospels to mean what the words express, are regarded
as Peculiar People, in the fullest sense of the term ; and
if through their primitive pathology children should die
under their hands, they run a serious risk of imprison
ment for manslaughter, notwithstanding that the book
which has misled them is declared to be God’s word by
the law of the land. Occasionally, indeed, old habits
assert themselves, and the nation suffers a recrudescence
of superstition. When the life of the Prince of Wales,
afterwards Edward VII., was threatened by a malignant
fever, prayers for his recovery were publicly offered up,
and the wildest religious excitement mingled with the
most loyal anxiety. But the newspapers were largely
responsible for this; they fanned the excitement daily
until many people grew almost as feverish as the Prince
himself, and “ irreligious ” persons who preserved their
sanity intact smiled when they read in the most unblushingly mendacious of those papers exclamations of
piety and saintly allusions to the great national wave of
prayer surging against the Throne of Grace. The
Prince’s life was spared, thanks to a good constitution
and the highest medical skill, and a national thanks
giving was offered up at St. Paul’s. Yet the doctors
were not forgotten; the chief of them was made a
knight, and the nation demanded a rectification of the
drainage in the Prince’s palace, probably thinking that
although prayer had been found efficacious there might
be danger in tempting Providence a second time.
Soon after that interesting event Mr. Spurgeon
modestly observed that the philosophers were noisy
enough in peaceful times, but shrank into their holes
like mice when imminent calamity threatened the
nation; which may be true without derogation to the
philosophers, who, like wise men, do not bawl against
�10
THE PHILOSOPHY
popular madness, but reserve their admonitions until the
heated multitude is calm and repentent. Professor
Tyndal once invited the religious world to test the
alleged efficacy of prayer by a practical experiment,
such as allotting a ward in some hospital to be specially
prayed for, and inquiring whether more cures are re
corded in it than elsewhere. But this invitation was
not and never will be accepted. Superstitions always
dislike contact with science and fact; they prefer to
float about in the vague region of sentiment, where pur
suit is hopeless and no obstacles impede. If there is any
efficacy in prayer, how can we account for the disastrous
and repeated failures of righteous causes and the
triumph of bad ? The voice of human supplication has
ascended heavenwards in all ages from all parts of the
earth, but when has a hand been extended from behind
the veil ? The thoughtful poor have besought appease
ment of their terrible hunger for some nobler life than is
possible while poverty deadens every fine impulse and
frustrates every unselfish thought, but whenever did
prayer bring them aid ? The miserable have cried for
comfort, sufferers for some mitigation of their pain,
captives for deliverance, the oppressed for freedom, and
those who have fought the great fight of good against ill
for some ray of hope to lighten despair; but what
answer has been vouchsafed ?
What hope, what light
Falls from the farthest starriest way
On you that pray ?
*
*
*
*
Can ye beat off one wave with prayer,
Can ye move mountains ? bid the flower
Take flight and turn to a bird in the air ?
Can ye hold fast for shine or shower
One wingless hour ? 1
1 A. C. Swinburne, Felise.
*
�OF SECULARISM.
11
The dying words of Mr. Tennyson’s Arthur—“ More
things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams
of”—are a weak solace to those who recognize its
futility, and find life too stern for optimistic dreams.
Salvation, in this life at least, cometh not by prayer, but
by valiant effort under the guidance of wisdom and the
inspiration of love. Knowledge alone is power. Igno
rant of Nature’s laws, we are broken to pieces and
ground to dust; knowing them, we win an empire of
enduring civilization within her borders. Recognizing
the universal reign of law and the vanity of supplicating
its reversal, and finding no special clause in the stafutes
of the universe for man’s behoof, Secularism dismisses
as merely superstitious the idea of an arbitrary special
providence, and affirms Science to be the only available
Providence of Man.
Thus theological conceptions obtruded upon the
sphere of. secular interests are one by one expelled.
We now come to the last, and, as the majority of
people think, the most serious and important—namely,
the doctrine of a Future life and of Future Reward
and Punishment. Secularism, as such, neither affirms
nor denies a future life ; it simply professes no knowledge
of such a state, no information respecting it which might
seive as a guide in the affairs of this life. The first
question to be asked concerning the alleged life beyond
the grave is, Do we know aught about it ? If there were
indisputably a future life in store for us all, and that life
immortal, and if we could obtain precise information of
its actualities and requirements, then indeed the trans
cendence of eternal over temporal interests would impel
us to live here with a view to the great Hereafter. But
have we any knowledge of this future life ? Mere conjec
tures will not suffice ; they may be true, but more pro
bably false, and we cannot sacrifice the certain to the
uncertain, or forgo the smallest present happiness for
�12
THE PHILOSOPHY
the sake of some imagined future compensation. Have
we any knowledge of a life beyond the grave ? The
Secularist answers decisively, No.
Whatever the progress of science or philosophy may
hereafter reveal, at present we know nothing of personal
immortality. The mystery of Death, if such there be,
is yet unveiled, and inviolate still are the secrets of the
grave. Science knows nothing of another life than this.
When we are dead she sees but decomposing matter,
and while • we live she regards us but as the highest
order of animal life, differentiated from other orders by
•clearly defined characteristics, but separated from them
by no infinite impassable chasm. Neither can Philo
sophy enlighten us. She reveals to us the laws of what
we call mind, but cannot acquaint us with any second
entity called soul. Even if we accept Schopen
hauer’s1 theory of will, and regard man as a con
scious manifestation of the one supreme force, we are
no nearer to personal immortality; for, if our soul
emerged at birth from the unconscious infinite, it
will probably immerge therein at death, just as a wave
rises and flashes foam-crested in the sun, and plunges
back into the ocean for ever. Indeed, the doctrine of
man’s natural immortality is so incapable of proof that
many eminent Christians even are abandoning it in
favour of the doctrine that everlasting life is a gift
specially conferred by God upon the faithful elect.
Their appeal is to Revelation, by which they mean the
New Testament, all other Scriptures being to them
gross impositions. But can Revelation satisfy the
critical modern spirit ? When we can interrogate her,
1 Schopenhauer was one of the most powerful and original
thinkers of his century, and his intellectual honesty is surprising
in such a flaccid and insincere age. A physical fact worthy of
notice is that his brain was the largest on record, not even ex
cepting Kant’s.
�OF SECULARISM.
13
discord deafens us. Every religion—nay, every sect
of religion—draws from Revelation its own peculiar
answer, and accepts it as infallibly true, although
widely at variance with others derived from the same
source. The answers cannot all be true, and their
very discord discredits each. The voice of God should
give forth no such uncertain tidings. If he had indeed
spoken, the universe would surely be convinced, and
the same conviction fill every breast. Even, however,
if Revelation proclaimed but one message concerning
the future, and that message were similarly interpreted
by all religions, we could not admit it as quite trust
worthy, although we might regard it as a vague forshortening of the truth. For Revelation, unless every,
genius be considered an instrument through which
eternal music is conveyed, must ultimately rely on
miracles, and these the modern spirit has decisively
rejected. Thus, then, it appears that neither Science,
Philosophy, nor Revelation, affords us any knowledge
of a future life. Yet, in order to guide our present
life with a view to the future, such knowledge is indis
pensable. In the absence of it we must live in the
light of the present, basing our conduct on Secular
reason, and working for Secular ends. How far this
is compatible with elevated morality and noble idealism
we shall presently inquire and decide. Intellectually,
Secularism is at one with the most advanced thought
of our age, and no immutable dogmas preclude it from
accepting and incorporating any new truth. Science
being the only providence it recognizes, it is ever
desirous to see and to welcome fresh developments
thereof, assured that new knowledge must harmonize
with the old, and deepen and broaden the civilization
of our race.
In morals Secularism is utilitarian. In this world
only two ethical methods are possible. Either we
�14
THE PHILOSOPHY
must take some supposed revelation of God’s will as
the measure of our duties, or we must determine our
actions with a view to the general good. The former
course may be very pious, but is assuredly unphilosophical. As Feuerbach1 insists, to derive morality from
God “ is nothing more than to withdraw it from the
test of reason, to institute it as indubitable, unassail
able, sacred, without rendering an account why.”
Stout old Chapman’s2 protest against confounding
the inherent nature of good is also memorable:—
“ Should heaven turn hell
For deeds well done, I would do ever well.”
Secularism adopts the latter course. Were it necessary,
■ a defence of utilitarian morality against theological
abuse might here be made; but an ethical system
which can boast so many noble and illustrious ad
herents may well be excused from vindicating its right
to recognition and respect. Nevertheless, it may be
observed that, however fervid are theoretical objections
to utilitarianism, its criterion of morality is the only one
admitted in practice. Our jurisprudence is not required
1 Feuerbach’s Essence of Christianity, from which I quote, was
translated from the German by Marian Evans (George Eliot).
This remarkable work deserves and will amply require a careful
study. The thoroughness with which Feuerbach applied his
subtle psychological method to the dogmas of Christianity
accounts for the hatred of him more than once expressed by
Mansel in his notes to the famous Bampton Lectures.
2 George Chapman was one of those lofty austere natures that
put to scorn the flabbiness which a sentimental Christianity does
so much to foster ; as it were, some fine old Pagan spirit rein
carnate in an Englishman of the great Elizabethan age. His
“ Byron’s Conspiracy ” furnished Shelley with the magnificent
motto of The Revolt of Islam :—
There is no danger to a man that knows
What life and death is : there’s not any law
Exceeds his knowledge ; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.
�OF SECULARISM.
75
to justify itself before any theological bar, nor to show
its conformity with the maxims uttered by Jesus and his
disciples; and he would be thought a strange legislator
who should insist on testing the value of a Parliamentary
Bill by appealing to the New Testament. Secularism
holds that whatever actions conduce to the general good
are right, and that whatever have an opposite tendency
are wrong. Manifold objections are urged against this
simple rule on the ground of its impracticability ; but as
all of them apply with equal force to every conceivable
rule, they may be peremptorily dismissed. The imper
fections of human nature must affect the practicability
of any moral law, however conceived or expressed.
Christians who wrote before Secularism had to be com
bated never thought of maintaining that reason and
experience are inefficient guides, though they did some
times impugn the efficacy of natural motives to good.1
So thoughtful and cautious a preacher as Barrow, whom
Mr. Arnold accounts the best moral divine of our
English Church, plainly says that “ wisdom is, in effect,
the genuine parent of all moral and political virtue,
justice, and honesty.”2 But some theologically minded
persons, whose appearance betrays no remarkable signs
of asceticism, wax eloquent in reprobation of happiness
as a sanction of morality at all. Duty, say they, is
what all should strive after. Good ; but the Secularist
conceives it his duty to promote the general welfare.
Happiness is not a degrading thing, but a source of
1 Darwin, Spencer, and nearly all the rest of our modern Evolu
tionists, believe morality to have had a natural origin. Mr. Wake,
however, in his valuable work. The Evolution of Morality, while
admitting and powerfully illustrating its natural development,
apparently holds that its origin was supernatural, the germs of
all the virtues having been divinely implanted in our primitive
ancestors! Evidently the old superstition about “the meat-roasting
power of the meat-jack ” is not yet altogether extinct.
2 Sermon on “ The Pleasantness of Religion.”
�16
THE PHILOSOPHY
elevation. We have all enjoyed that wonderful cate
chism of Pig-Philosophy in Latter-Day Pamphlets. What
a scathing satire on the wretched Jesuitism abounding
within and without the Churches, and bearing such
malign and malodorous fruit! But it is not the neces
sary antithesis to the Religion of Sorrow. It is the
mongrel makeshift of those “ whose gospel is their
maw,’ whose swinish egotism makes them contemplate
Nature as a Universal Swine’s-Trough, with plenty of
pig’s-wash for those who can thrust their fellows aside
and get their paw in it. The Religion of Gladness is a
different thing from this. Let us hear its great prophet
Spinoza, one of the purest and noblest of modern
minds: “Joy is the passage from a less to a greater
perfection ; sorrow is the passage from a greater to a
less perfection.” No; suffering only tries, it does not
nourish us ; it proves our capacity, but does not produce
it. What, after all, is happiness ? It consists in the
fullest healthy exercise of all our faculties, and is as
various as they. Far from ignoble, it implies the
highest moral development of our nature, the dream of
Utopists from Plato downwards. And, therefore, in
affirming happiness to be the great purpose of social
life, Secularism makes its moral law coincident with the
law of man’s progress towards attainable perfection.
Motives to righteousness Secularism finds in human
nature. Since the evolution of morality has been traced
by scientific thinkers the idea of our moral sense having
had a supernatural origin has vanished into the limbo
of superstitions. Our social sympathies are a natural
growth, and] may be indefinitely developed in the future
by the same' means which has developed them in the
past. Morality and theology are essentially distinct.
The ground and guarantee of morality are independent
of any theological belief. When we are in earnest
about the right we need no incitement from above.
�OF SECULARISM.
17
Morality has its natural ground in experience and
reason, in the common nature and common wants of
mankind. Wherever sentient beings live together in a
social state, simple or complex, laws of morality must
arise, for they are simply the permanent conditions of
social health; and even if men entertained no belief in
any supernatural power, they would still recognize and
submit to the laws upon which societary welfare depends.
“ Even,” says Dr. Martineau,1 “ though we came out of
nothing, and returned to nothing, we should be subject
to the claim of righteousness so long as we are what we
are: morals have their own base, and are second to
nothing.” Emerson, a religious transcendentalist, also
admits that “ Truth, frankness, courage, love, humility,
and all the virtues, range themselves on the side of
prudence, or the art of securing a present well-being.” 2
The love professed by piety to God is the same feeling,
though differently directed, which prompts the com
monest generosities and succors of daily life. All moral
appeals must ultimately be made to our human sympa
thies. Theological appeals are essentially not moral,
but immoral. The hope of heaven and the fear of hell
are motives purely personal and selfish. Their tendency
is rather to make men worse than better. They may
secure a grudging compliance with prescribed rules, but
they must depress character instead of elevating it,
They tend to concentrate a man’s whole attention on
himself, and thus to develop and intensify his selfish
propensities. No man, as Dr. Martineau many years
ago observed, can faithfully follow his highest moral
■conceptions who is continually casting side glances at
the prospects of his own soul. Secularism appeals to
no lust after posthumous rewards or dread of posthu
mous terrors, but to that fraternal feeling which is the
1 Nineteenth Century, April, 1877.
Essay on Prudence.
�18
THE PHILOSOPHY
essence of all true religion, and has prompted
heroic self-sacrifice in all ages and climes. It removes
moral causation from the next world to this. It teaches
that the harvest of our sowing will be reaped here, and
to the last grain eaten, by ourselves or others. Every
act of our lives affects the whole subsequent history of
our race. Our mental and moral, like our bodily lungs,
have their appropriate atmospheres, of which every
thought, word, and act, becomes a constituent atom.1
Incessantly around us goes on the conflict of good and
evil, which a word, a gesture, a look of ours changes.
And we cannot tell how great may be the influence of
the least of these, for in Nature all things hang together,
and the greatest effects may flow from causes seemingly
slight and inconsiderable.2 When we thoroughly lay
this to heart, and reflect that no contrition or remorse
a ital
1 Wherever men are gathered, all the air
Is charged with human feeling, human thought;
Each shout and cry and laugh, each curse and prayer
Are into its vibrations surely wrought;
Unspoken passion, wordless meditation,
Are breathed into it with our respiration ;
It is with our life fraught and overfraught.
So that no man there breathes earth’s simple breath
As if alone on mountains or wide seas ;
But nourishes warm life or hastens death
With joys and sorrows, health and foul disease,
Wisdom and folly, good and evil labours
Incessant of his multitudinous neighbours ;
He in his turn affecting all of these.
—James Thomson, “ City of Dreadful Night."
2 The importance of individual action, even on the part of the
meanest, is well expressed by George Eliot in the concluding sen
tence of Middlemarch : “ The growing good of the world is partly
dependent on unhistoric acts ; and that things are not so ill withyou and me as they might have been, is half owing to the numbers,
who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”
Even more memorable is the great saying attributed to Krishna,—
“ He who does nothing stays the progress of the world.”
�OF SECULARISM.
19
can undo the past or efface the slightest record from the
everlasting Book of Fate, we shall be more strongly re
strained from evil and impelled to good than we could
be by supernatural promises or threats. The promises
may be mistrusted, the threats nullified by a late repent
ance ; but the natural issues of conduct are inevitable
and must be faced. Whatever the future may hold in
store, Secularism bids us be true to ourselves and our
opportunities now. It does not undertake to determine
the vexed question of God’s existence, which it leaves
each to decide for himself according to what light he
has ; nor does it dogmatically deny the possibility of a
future life. But it insists on utilizing to the highest the
possibilities that lie before us, and realizing so far as
may be by practical agencies that Earthly Paradise
which would now be less remote if one-tithe of the time,
the energy, the ability, the enthusiasm, and the wealth
devoted to making men fit candidates for another life
had been devoted to making them fit citizens of this. If
there be a future life, this must be the best preparation
for it; and if not, the consciousness of humane work
achieved and duty done, will tint with rainbow and orient
colours the mists of death more surely than expected
glories from the vague and mystic land of dreams.
There are those who cannot believe in any effective
morality, much less any devotion to disinterested aims,
without the positive certainty of immortal life. Under
a pretence of piety they cloak the most grovelling
estimate of human nature, which, with all its faults, is
infinitely better than their conception of it. Even their
love and reverence of God would seem foolishness un-’
less they were assured of living for ever. Withdraw
posthumous hopes and fears, say they, and “ let us eat
and drink for to-morrow we die ” would be the sanest
philosophy. In his grave way Spinoza satirizes this
“ vulgar opinion,” which enjoins a regulation of life
�.20
THE PHILOSOPHY
according to the passions by those who have “ persuaded
themselves that the souls perish with the bodies, and
that there is not a second life for the -miserable who have
borne the crushing weight of piety ” ; “ a conduct,” he adds,
“ as absurd, in my opinion, as that of a man who should
fill his body with poisons and deadly food, for the fine
reason that he had no hope to enjoy wholesome nourish
ment for all eternity, or who, seeing that the soul is not
eternal or immortal, should renounce his reason, and
wish to become insane; things so preposterous that they
are scarcely worth mention.”
Others, again, deny that a philosophy which ignores
the infinite can have any grand ideal capable of lifting
us above the petty tumults and sordid passions of life.
But surely the idea of service to the great Humanity,
whose past and future are to us practically infinite, is
a conception vast enough for our finite minds. The
instincts of Love, Reverence, and Service may be fully
•exercised and satisfied by devotion to a purely human
ideal, without resort to unverifiable dogmas and inscrutible mysteries; and Secularism, which bids us
think and .act so that the great Human Family may
profit by our lives, which exhorts us to labour for human
progress and elevation here on earth, where effort may
be effective and sacrifices must be real, is more pro
foundly noble than any supernatural creed, and holds
the promise of a wider and loftier beneficence.
Secularism is often said to be atheistic. It is, how
ever, neither atheistic nor theistic. It ignores the pro
blem of God’s existence, which seems insoluble to finite
'intellects, and confines itself to the practical world of
experience, without commending or forbidding specula
tion on matters that transcend it. Unquestionably many
Secularists are Atheists, but others are Theists, and this
shows the compatibility of Secularism with either a
positive or a negative attitude towards the hypothesis of
�OF SECULARISM.
21
a supreme universal intelligence. There is no atheistic
declaration in the principles of any existing Secular
Society, although all are unanimous in opposing theology,
which is at best an elaborate conjecture, and at the
worst an elaborate and pernicious imposture.
Educated humanity has now arrived at the positive
stage of culture. Imagination, it is true, will ever
hold its legitimate province; but it is the kindling and
not the guiding element in our nature. When exercis
ing its proper influence it invests all things with “ a
light that never was on sea or land
it transforms
lust into love, it creates the ideal, it nurtures enthu
siasm, it produces heroism, it suggests all the glories of
art, and even lends wings to the intellect of the
scientist. But when it is substituted for knowledge,
when it aims at becoming the leader instead of the
kindler, is is a Phaeton who drives to disaster and ruin.
It is degrading, or at any rate perilous, to be the dupe
of fancy, however beautiful or magnificent. Reason
should always hold sovereign sway in our minds, and
reason tells us that we live in a universe of cause and
effect, where ends must be accomplished by means, and
where man himself is largely fashioned by circum
stances. Reason tells us that our faculties are limited
and that our knowledge is relative; it enjoins us to
believe what is ascertained, to give assent to no pro
position of whose truth we are not assured, and to walk
in the light of facts. This may seem a humble philo
sophy, but it is sound and not uncheerful, and it
stands the wear and tear of life when prouder philoso
phies are often reduced to rags and tatters. Nor is it
just to call this philosophy “ negative.” Every system,
indeed, is negative to every other system which it in
anywise contradicts ; but in what other sense can a
system be called negative, which leaves men all science
to study, all art to pursue and enjoy, and all humanity
�22
THE PHILOSOPHY
to love and serve ? It declines to traffic in supernatural
hopes and fears, but it preserves all the sacred things
of civilization, and gives a deeper meaning to such
words as husband and wife, father and mother, brother
and sister, lover and friend.
Incidentally, however, Secularism has what some will
always persist in regarding as negative work. It
finds noxious superstitions impeding its path, and
must oppose them. It cannot ignore orthodoxy,
although it would be glad to do so, for the dogmas and
pretensions of the popular . creed hinder its progress
and thwart Secular improvement at every step.
Favoured and privileged and largely supported by the
State, they usurp a fictitious dignity over less popular
ideas. They thrust themselves into education, insist
on teaching supernaturalism with the multiplication
table, dose the scholars with Jewish mythology as
though it were actual history, and assist their moral
development with pictures of Daniel in the lions’ den
and Jesus walking on the sea. They employ vast
wealth in preparing for another world, which might
be more profitably employed in bettering this. They
prevent us from spending our Sunday rationally^
refusing us any alternative but the church or the
public-house. They deprive honest sceptics so far as
possible of the common rights of citizenship.1 They
retard a host of reforms, and still do their utmost to
suppress or curtail freedom of thought and speech.
1 Nearly every leading Secularist has suffered in this respect.
Mr. G. J. Holyoake was imprisoned for blasphemy; Mr. Brad
laugh had to win the seat which Northampton gave him, by
means of almost superhuman energy and resource, in the face of
the most bigoted and brutal opposition ; Mrs. Besant was
robbed of her child' by an order of the Court of Chancery;
and it would be a false modesty not to add that I have
suffered twelve-months’ imprisonment as an ordinary criminal for
editing a Freethought journal.
�[OF SECULARISM.
23
While all this continues, Secularism must actively
oppose the popular creed. Nor is it just on the part
of Christians to stigmatize this aggressive attitude.
They forget that their faith was vigorously and per
sistently aggressive against' Paganism. Secularism
may surely imitate that example, although it neither
intends nor desires to demolish the temples of Chris
tianity as the early Christians, headed by their bishops,
destroyed the temples of Paganism and desecrated its
shrines.
Properly speaking, Secularism is doing a positive,
■not a negative, work in destroying superstition. Every
error removed makes room for a truth ; and if super
stition is a kind of mental disease, he who expels it is
a mental physician. His work is no more negative
than the doctor’s who combats a bodily malady, drives
it out of the system, and leaves his patient in the full
possession of health.
Secular propaganda, by means of lectures, journals,
and pamphlets, conducted for so many years, has pro
duced a considerable effect on the public mind. A great
change has been wrought during the past generation.
Much of it has been accomplished by science, but much
also by the energetic labours of Secular advocates.
Inquire closely into the personnel of advanced
movements, and you will find Secularists there out
of all proportion to their numerical strength. Where
Christians may be they are sure to be ; not because they
necessarily have better hearts than their orthodox
neighbours, but because their principles impel them to
fight for Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, irrespective
of nationality, race, sex, or creed ; and prompt them to
exclaim, in the sublime language of Thomas Paine, “ the
world is my country, and to do good is my religion.”
�The Mother of God, by G. W. Foote.
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Price
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Price Twopence, postage id.
THE FREETHINKER.
Brilliant Articles by Capable Writers on
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PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY.
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�
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The philosophy of secularism
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jqATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
BRUNO
AND
SPINOZA
ARTHUR
B.
MOS S.
[price one penny.]
LONDON:
WATTS & Co., 84, FLEET STREET, E.C.
�ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
BUDDHA, SOCRATES, AND JESUS.........................................
THE MIRROR OF FREETHOUGHT ..
..
..
..
THE BIBLE GOD AND HIS FAVOURITES............................
FICTITIOUS GODS
...................................................................
CHRISTIANITY UNWORTHY OF GOD
............................
THE SECULAR FAITH...................................................................
IS RELIGION NECESSARY OR USEFUL?
..
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HEALTH, WEALTH, AND HAPPINESS
...........................
THE OLD FAITH AND THE NEW
..
..
..
..
o i
to
or
o i
o i
o i
02
01
01
London : Watts & Co., 84, Fleet Street; or (to order) of all
Booksellers.
jSS* For Mr. Moss’s List of Subjects of Freethought, Political, and
Social Lectures apply—89, Catlin Street, Potherhithe Neu Road, S.F.
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
Freethought has had no more ardent lovers, philo
sophy no more diligent students, persecution no more
fearless victims, than Bruno and Spinoza. Living in an
age when religious heresy was considered the most
horrible of crimes, these philosophers proved themselves
of such sterling metal that they were prepared to face
any persecution and undergo any punishment in their
zealous pursuit of truth. The first a hot-blooded Italian,
with a passionate love for the study of science and philor
sophy, which difficulties intensified rather than dimi
nished ; the other, a quiet, inoffensive Dutch Jew, with
the highest order of mind—these men confronted, singlehanded, the insidious monster, Superstition, and, by their
teaching and living, dealt such a tremendous blow at the
creature’s head that it has lain writhing in agony ever
since. The Church answered Bruno by imprisonment
and the stake; but the martyred Italian’s name is now
for ever destined to live in the memory of all true lovers
of intellectual freedom. Spinoza was anathematised and
cast out of the Jewish community, to work no longer for
a sect, but for mankind.
Giordano Bruno was born at Nola, near Naples, mid
way between Vesuvius and the Mediterranean, in the
year 1548. Of his parents we know nothing; all we
know is that Giordano, or Filippo—for that was his
baptismal name—was put to an excellent training college,
and at an early age gave promise of turning out a brilliant
scholar. “ He was a true Neapolitan child,” says Lewes,
“ as ardent as its volcanic soul, burning atmosphere, and
dark thick wine; as capricious as its varied climate.”
Filled with the ardour of an apostle, he had that restless
vigorous nature peculiarly fitting a teacher of doctrines
that were to revolutionise the world of thought. He was
�4
. .
BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
born in stirring times. Copernicus had only been dead
a few years; the printing press was in use; discoveries in
science of a very important character had agitated the
minds of thoughtful persons throughout the civilised
world. Possessed of a rich fancy, a polished eloquence,
a varied humour, and chivalrous bearing, Bruno at once
made a good impression upon all with whom he came
in contact. Young and handsome, with all the phrenzied
style of the poet, he was the beau ideal of a preacher;
and it is as a young priest that we first get a glimpse of
him in the Convent of San Domefiico Maggiorie, where
he lectured on his system of religious philosophy. So
strikingly original were his views that an accusation of
heresy was soon drawn up against him, but set aside on
account of his youth. A second accusation of a similar
character was made eight years subsequently, and was
also withdrawn. Doubtless the Dominicans thought that
in time the heretical tendencies of Bruno’s mind would
tone down, and he would become a shining light among
their order. But not so. Bruno’s restless spirit of in
quiry could not be subdued; ever and anon it broke
forth in different directions. First, the young priest’s
mind was filled with doubts concerning the mysterious
doctrine of Transubstantiation; the doctrines of the
Trinity and the Atonement were next called in question,
and, worse than all, he was bold enough to attack the
great pillar of all faith, the chief authority of the age—
Aristotle. Discarding altogether the Aristotelian theory
of the relation of the sun to the earth, Bruno openly
declared his belief in the Copernican theory of astro
nomy, the plurality of worlds, and his complete rejection
of the Scripture teaching respecting the origin of man
kind. The natural consequence of this avowed heresy
was that he was feared, and, as he could not be answered
by arguments, was replied to by that most forcible weapon
of the priesthood, persecution. Unable to withstand
his opponents, he fled; and we next find him in a con
vent at Rome. Here he stayed but a brief while, for,
finding that his persecutors were at his heels, he left the
Holy City, and continued his journey to Noli, at which
place he found employment as a schoolmaster for a few
months.
At the age of thirty he began his adventurous course
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
5
through Europe, staying at Geneva, Lyons, Toulouse,
Paris, London, and the Oxford University itself, where
he taught successfully for some time. At Toulouse
Bruno remained about two years, during which time he
filled the ’office of Public Lecturer. Often he held
disputations on his favourite subjects, and while there
found time to compose several works.
In 1583, after having held the position of Lecturer
Extraordinary at the Sorbonne, in Paris, appointed
thereto by Henry III., for more than two years, Bruno
came to England with a letter of introduction to the
French Ambassador in London. Here he was received
at the Court of Elizabeth, and met with a cordial welcome
from all save his own countrymen. While in London
he had the great happiness of Sir Philip Sydney’s
friendship—a friendship that lasted to the day of hia
death. Bruno spoke in flattering terms of English"
freedom, and of the beauty and grace of English women
generally, and expressed great admiration for the charac
ter of Elizabeth. Not long after his arrival in England
he was invited to a splendid fete given by the Chancellor
of Oxford in honour of the Count Palatine Albert de
Lasco. At this fete it was customary to have public dis
cussions, at which all comers were challenged. Oxford,
on this occasion, put forth her dialectical giants to defend
Aristotle and Ptolemy. Bruno stepped into the arena,
and, in the debate, shone to great advantage, igno
miniously defeating his adversaries, whom he said could
only reply by abuse. After this Bruno asked permission
to lecture at the University, which request was granted.
He discoursed on cosmology and on the immortality of
the soul, his lectures producing a great sensation. His
admiration for the learned Professors of Oxford was
apparently not great, for we find him describing them
as “ a constellation of pedants, whose ignorance, pre
sumption, and rustic rudeness would have exhausted
the patience of Job.”
In England Bruno spent the quietest part of his life,
and it was in this country that the greater part of his
Italian works was composed. In time, however, his
audacious opinions, and the eloquence with which he
advanced them, roused such opposition that he found it
necessary to quit the country. He returned to Paris
�6
BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
for awhile, and afterwards to Germany, where, in 1586,
he matriculated as Theologies. Doctor Romanensis, in the
University of Marburg, in Hesse. Shortly after this we
find him at Wiirtemberg, lecturing to large and admiring
audiences. So pleased was Bruno with the intellectual
liberty manifested at this place that he afterwards called
it the “ Athens of Germany.” There seems every reason
to believe that Bruno might have won high honours here,
and have gained a position that would have enabled him
to live in ease and comfort; but his restive spirit would
not admit of it. He was allured on from place to place
to preach, in the true spirit of a reformer, his unpopular
views.
At last we find him ensnared, by one Mocenigo, into
visiting Venice. Wishing to gain what knowledge he
could from Bruno, and being desirous, no doubt, of
patronising a man of great genius, Mocenigo induced
the Italian philosopher to be his guest. Bruno, with
inexplicable haste, accepted. Disappointment on both
sides soon followed; for, instead of fawning to his patron,
Bruno treated him with conspicuous coolness, and sought
the company of others, which so exasperated' Mocenigo
that he denounced him to.the Inquisition as a reprobate
and a heretic.
On this charge Bruno was tried,
transferred to Rome, and cast into prison, where, for
seven weary years, he languished without books to read
and without the companionship of one human being.
At intervals he was subjected to torture, with a view of
extorting from him a retractation of his heresy; but in
vain. Finding that he would not retract, he was brought,
on February 9th, to the Palace of San Severino, and
received the sentence of excommunication, after which
he was handed over by the Cardinals to the secular
authorities with the recommendation of a “punishment
as merciful as possible and without effusion of blood,”
which was the usual formula for burning alive. When
Bruno heard the sentence he turned haughtily upon his
persecutors and said : “ I suspect you pronounce this
sentence with more fear than I receive it.” A week’s
delay was accorded him, in the expectation that he would
recant; but the expiration of this time found him as firm
as ever.
On February 17 th, 1600, Bruno was led to an open
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
7
space in Rome, and there, in the presence of fifty
Cardinals and a crowd of pilgrims from many nations,
was burnt to death. The faggots were lighted, the
flames lept about him and consumed his flesh, and, in
a little while, a few ashes were all that remained of the
brave thinker. Bruno perished—the idle wind scattered
his ashes ; but the martyred Freethinker’s name and
work live to-day, and will be remembered with admira
tion and gratitude in every land where the sons of
Freedom dwell.
As a system of philosophy, Lewes thinks that “ Bruno’s
has only a historical, and not an intrinsic, value.” Bruno
was a Pantheist, and, in his writings, anticipates some of
the theories that were afterwards formulated with greater
skill by Spinoza. . The Italian philosopher was an ardent
lover of nature, considering that her wonders formed
the proper study for mankind—in fact, nature Bruno
regarded as the “ garment of God, the incarnation of
the divine activity.
Unlike the poet, Pope, he did not
“ look through nature up to Nature’s God.” Nature, to
him, was everywhere present, and the divine essence
permeated nature through and through. The important
scientific truth of the indestructibility of matter and
force Bruno appears to have thoroughly appreciated.
Writing on this subject, he says : “ What first was seed
becomes grass, then an ear, then bread, chyle, blood,
semen, embryo, man, a corpse, then again earth, stone,
or some other mass, and so forth. Here we perceive
something.which changes in all these things, and ever
remains the same. Thus there really seems nothing
constant, eternal, and worthy of the name of a principle,
but matter alone. Matter, considered absolutely, com
prises all forms and dimensions. But the variety of
forms which it assumes is not received from without,
but is produced and engendered from within.. When
we say that something dies, it is merely a transition to
a new life, a dissolution of one combination and the
commencement of another.” Or, to quote Professor
Tyndall’s Belfast address, referring to Bruno, the learned
Professor said that the Italian philosopher’s opinion was
that “ matter is not the mere naked, empty capacity
which philosophers have pictured her to be, but the
universal mother, who brings forth all things as the fruit
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
of her own womb.” And yet, despite the fact that he
looked upon Nature as containing within herself the
power of producing all phenomena, he nevertheless
believed that “ God was the infinite intelligence, the
cause of causes, the principle of all life and mind, the
great activity, whose action we name the universe.”
Thus Bruno’s creed was Pantheistic. It is quite true,
as modern theologians say, that Bruno was not an
Atheist, though he was burned as one y but assuredly he
died the death of a martyr to vindicate the great principle
of Freethought. His writings soon may be forgotten,
his philosophy regarded only with curiosity ; but the
memory of his honest, brave life and noble death will
live till the last syllable of recorded time.
SPINOZA.
Spinoza was not only a great thinker who deserved to
rank high among the most eminent of the world’s philo
sophers, but he was something more than this : he was
a great man, in the true sense of the word. His life
was a poem in itself. Honest, independent, modest, and
virtuous, he walked quietly through the earth, almost
friendless and alone—censured only by those who knew
not the purity of his life, and who were mentally incap
able of understanding the depth and truth of his philo
sophy. But, though he was condemned and calumniated
by the ignorant of his own day, Spinoza has since
been transformed by some into a Saint; and those who
once were disposed to look upon him with feelings akin
to horror and detestation now speak of him with respect
and admiration.
The fact is, Spinoza’s life will bear the severest criti
cism. Tested by the strictest principles of morality, it
was a life of such purity, goodness, generosity, and un
selfishness that even “ our friend the enemy ” is con
strained to admit that it was altogether blameless.
Baruch Despinoza, or Bendictus de Spinoza, was born
on November 24th, 1632, at Amsterdam, and was the
eldest and only son of a wealthy merchant, a descendant
from Portuguese Jews, who had sought refuge in Holland
from the terrible cruelties of the Inquisition. There
were two other children in the family besides young
Benedict—Miriam and Rebecca.
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
9
Of the early life of Spinoza we know very little. Our
attention is first drawn to him while he is studying at a
Jewish Academy, at which establishment he is endeavour
ing to qualify himself for a theological career. He is a
very promising pupil, and the Rabbi, Saul Levi Morteira,
predicts for him a prosperous career. At the age of
fifteen so well read was Spinoza that, in the extent and
accuracy of his Biblical knowledge, he was a match for
any Rabbi. He put puzzling, questions to his teacher,
to which answers of a satisfactory character were seldom
forthcoming.
At length his Sceptical spirit became so manifest that
his teacher was bewildered and alarmed. At first
Morteira tried to check Spinoza’s disposition of inquiry ;
but, of course, the attempt proved fruitless. His Scep
ticism showed more alarming symptoms. He actually
gave expression to a doubt concerning the truth of
Scripture, and suggested that Biblical statements were
hopelessly at variance with common sense. This was
too much for some of the Jewish students, to whom
Spinoza confided some of his opinions.' Rumours
regarding his heresy having reached the ears of the
heads of the Jewish Synagogue, Spinoza was called
upon to make submission and acknowledge his sin.
This he resolutely refused to do. Finding that he could
no longer conscientiously remain a member of the
Synagogue, he withdrew. This was not enough. An
interval was allowed, in which. Spinoza was to reconsider
his opinions, and, in the event of his not submitting, a
threat of excommunication was made. All ttys, how
ever-, so far from bridging the difficulty, had the effect of
widening the gulf between them. No doubt Spinoza’s
parents implored their son to give up his opinions, and
believe what they believed. No doubt his sisters urged
him, with many a tear, not to be so headstrong. But
not even their persuasive eloquence—which, doubtless,
was allowed to have its full weight—could alter his
resolution. His was a strong conviction, which no
appeal to the emotions could alter. The arguments of
Spinoza’s teacher having failed, threats followed; then
a bribe was tried, and a pension of one thousand florins
annually proposed to him; but all without avail. His
determination was unalterable. The Rabbis , were en
�10
BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
raged at this refusal, and, it is believed, instigated some
scoundrel to attempt the assassination of Spinoza. The
attempt, however, was not successful. The ruffian
waylaid the young heretic, and smote him from the
rear; but the dagger penetrated the coat collar, and
inflicted but a slight wound in the neck. Spinoza kept
the coat for some years as an evidence of the sort of
deeds religious fanaticism will lead men to perpetrate.
A greater exhibition of fanaticism soon followed ; for
on July 6th, 1656, a large crowd was gathered in the
Jewish Synagogue at Amsterdam to witness the excom
munication of the heretical Spinoza. We can imagine
the pious horror expressed on the faces of the enraged
assembly. Amid the wailing note of a great horn and
the solemn lamentations of a fanatical crowd, the chanter
rose and delivered the following anathema :— .
With the judgment of the angels and the sentence of the
saints we anathematise, execrate, curse, and cast out Baruch
de Spinoza, the whole of the sacred community assembling
in presence of the sacred books, with the six hundred and
thirteen precepts written therein, pronouncing against him
the anathema wherewith Joshua anathematised Jerico, the
malediction wherewith Elisha cursed the children, and all
the maledictions written in the book of the law. Let him
be accursed by day and accursed by night ; let him be
accursed in his lying down and accursed in his rising up,
accursed in going out and accursed in coming in. May the
Lord never pardon or acknowledge him ; may the wrath
and displeasure of the Lord burn henceforth against this
man, load him with all the curses written in the book of
the law, raze out his name from under the sky ; may the
Lord sevfer him for ever from all the tribes of Israel, weigh
him with all the maledictions of the firmament contained
in the book of the law ; and may all ye who are obedient
to your God be saved this day. Hereby, then, are all
admonished that none hold converse with him by word of
mouth ; none hold communication with him by writing ;
that no one do him any service, no one abide under the
same roof with him, and no one approach within four cubits’
length of him ; and no one read any document dictated by
him or written by his hand.
This reads very like the terrible curse in “The Jackdaw
of Rheims”:—
“ But, what gave rise to no little surprise,
No one seemed one penny the worse.”
�BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
II
Spinoza seems to have treated the anathema and ex
communication with the contempt they deserved. The
world was wide, and, for a young man with his talents
and classical knowledge, there were many opportunities
of getting a good living. He soon found an engage
ment in the educational establishment of Dr. Francis
Van den Ende, a man of exceptional attainments and
of very liberal views. Van den Ende had a charming
daughter, and Spinoza appears to have formed a deep
attachment for her; but, when the young lady had grown
to womanhood, Spinoza found that there was a wealthy
rival in the field. The allurements of wealth and position
presented so many charms as to quite fascinate Miss
Van den Ende, and she accepted her wealthy suitor in
preference to Spinoza. Young Spinoza bore his fate
with becoming fortitude : hereafter he devoted himself
to another mistress—to Philosophy, whom he served
with all the ardour of his nature.
“Experience having taught me,” he says, “ that all
the ordinary affairs of life are vain and futile, and that
those things which I dreaded were only in themselves
good or bad according as they moved my soul, I finally
resolved on inquiring if there was anything truly good
in itself, and capable of being communicated to man, a
good Which, everything else being rejected, could fill
the soul entirely—whether, in short, that good existed
which, if possessed, could give supreme and eternal
happiness.” And he came to the conclusion that the
“ supreme good ” was only to be attained by “ the union
of the mind with all nature ”—in other words) by the
study of philosophy.
The rest of Spinoza’s life may be told in a few lines.
By acquiring the art of grinding and polishing lenses
for optical purposes, he was enabled to earn a fair liveli
hood—at all events, sufficient for his small wants. His
daily bread he earned by the labour of his hands. In
the evenings he devoted himself to study and to writing.
In 1658 he left Amsterdam, after his services had
again been solicited by the chief of the Synagogue, and
we next find him residing at the house of a Christian
friend, at Rhynsburg. Here he formed many happy
friendships, among them being that of Dr. Meyer,
Simon de Vries, and, above all, Henry Oldenburg.
�JJ2
BRUNO AND SPINOZA.
In 1664 we find Spinoza at Voorburg, and two years
subsequently he occupied the same rooms at Hague as
Dr. Colerus, his biographer, afterwards lived in. Among
Spinoza’s best friends here was Jean de Witt, an
enthusiastic Republican. The friendship of these two
grew into a brotherly affection, and lasted till death parted
them.
From De Witt Spinoza accepted a small pension; *but
many handsome gifts from other sources he modestly
declined, saying that he had enough to satisfy his wants.
For some years he suffered uncomplainingly from a'
chronic form of consumption. One day.in the winter he
was seized with a sudden difficulty in breathing; unhappily
the attack lasted several hours, and terminated fatally,
Spinoza passing peacefully away on. Sunday, February
21st, 1679, at the age of forty.
Like Bruno, Spinoza was a Pantheist. He believed
in God; but his God was not a person, but an essences
He believed in the one existence, “ the one substance
beneath all appearances, the cause of all things ’’-^in
fact, there was very little difference between Spinoza’s
Pantheism and modern Atheism, which makes the
universe the one existence. Spinoza’s chief works—those
by which he has won general recognition, and, among
the cultured, great favour—are his “ Tractatus Theologico Politicus,” which demonstrates the comparatively
late origin and unreliability of the Pentateuch ; and his
profound work on “ Ethics.”
That Spinoza was a great logician is acknowledged on
all hands. Every problem with which he dealt was
subjected to a most searching analysis. And, though
modern Freethinkers may not be able to accept his con
clusions, for him they cannot but have the profoundest
admiration, not alone on account of his greatness as a
philosopher, but on account of the nobility of his life,
its simplicity, its purity, its courage, its earnest devotion
to truth, and, above all, its unpretentious heroism.
WATTS & GO., PRINTERS, 17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON.
�
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Benedictus De Spinoza
Giordano Bruno
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Text
THE
WESTMINSTER
AND
FOREIGN
QUARTERLY
REVIEW.
JANUARY 1, 1873.
Art. I.—Sophokles.
1. Sophokles, erlddrt wnF. W. Schneid ewin. Sechste Avflage,
besorgt von A..HKUGK., Berlin. 1871.
2. The Tragedies of Sophocles, with a Biographical Essay.
By E. H. Plumptre, M.A. London. 1867.
3. Die Religosen und Sittlichen Vorstellungen des Aeschylos
und Sopholdes. Von Gustav Dronke. Leipzig. 1861.
4. Sopholdes und seine Tragodien. Von 0. Ribbeck. Heft
83 in der Sammlung gemeinverstdndlicher wissenschaftlicher Vortrdge. Berlin. 1869.
ENGLISH scholarship has not done much for the better
J’j understanding of Sophokles. He is not a poet who has
taken close hold of the English mind. His works are studied of
course in the general university curriculum ; but he has not become
a poet often read and oftener quoted as have some of the classic
writers. Those who really find in him a source of intellectual
delight read his works in a German edition. But of what classical
writer may not this be said ? It is very seldom that an English
editor has the patience to make a complete presentation of a
classical author—to do for him what Professor Munro has done for
Lucretius—with that loving study and exhaustive research which
characterize the labours of the German editor. So far the case
of Sophokles is not single. But perhaps there is no instance of
an author of such renown as Sophokles, with so general a con
sensus of people willing to admit his claims, who has made so
little impression upon the majority of cultivated minds. The
[Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.J—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I.
B
�2
Sophokles.
reason is that the majority of cultivated people never bring them
selves under his influence. The English scholar is for the
most part satisfied with a textual or critical knowledge: the
whole field of classical literature must be hurried through rather
than any part explored. And the result of this is scholarship
rather than knowledge.
Now with many authors this may be sufficient; it cannot be
so with all. Homer, for instance, will give up his. beauties in
broad and easily taken bands of continuous narrative. . Apart
from the necessities of philological studies, which are beside the
present question, Homer, like Chaucer, is easy reading. Those
that run may read the alto rilievo of the Iliad or Odyssey. But
before a group of statuary you must stand. And the difficulty
is that the intellectual life of the present day does not admit of
long standing. The progress of science and the march of new
ideas are continually urging on the student mind. And to almost
all the doubt must occasionally present itself, Is it worth while
to spend this time before these works of ancient art? . Now,
whatever the answer to this question may be, it is certain that
the. secret of Sophokles cannot be won without loving and
leisurely study. For in his works exists the highest form of one
species of art; and that an art which will yield its essence to no
hurried student. It is a significant circumstance that few English
translations of the works of Sophokles have been attempted.
The version of Mr. Plumptre is the fourth of its kind. Those
that have preceded it are of little importance. It is true that no
author suffers more from translation than Sophokles : but that
is the least element in the unpopularity of his dramas amongst
English readers. The reader unacquainted with the Greek
language may yet be fascinated by the “ tale of Troy divine
in the musical and monotonous lines of Pope, or the inadequate
interpretations of Cowper and Lord Derby : he may even, if.he
be a Keats, find his vision dazzled by the misty prospect which
he catches of the vast Homeric continent; but he is not at all
likely to be charmed with Sophokles. To understand Sophokles
one must place oneself in the intellectual position of ^n average
Athenian of the time of Perikles. Mr. Galton says : “ The
*
average ability of the Athenian race is, on the lowest possible
estimate, very nearly two grades higher than our own—that is,
about as much as our race is above that of the African negro?
The average English reader, therefore, whose knowledge of
Sophokles is derived from Mr. Plumptre’s very creditable version,
will probably lay down the book without any extraordinary
interest in the subject. He will miss the plaintive clink and
Hereditary Genius,” p. 3&2.
�Sophokles.
- 3
jingle of subjective sentimentality which he has been accustomed
to associate with poetry, and he will probably wonder at the
renown of the poet. But the earnest student of Sophokles will
find in the original enough to reward him. His mind will be
strengthened by the contemplation of perfect types of character,
bold, severe, and beautiful. He will pass .into a gallery of
statuary where he will see sights that can never leave his inner
eye. Serene faces, familiar, yet unusual in their lofty humanity,
will look down upon him •, voices, more divine than human,
though rising from the depths of the human heart, will speak to
him, and his ears will be filled with a holy and awful music.
The best guides to the higher knowledge of Sophokles are the
German works whose titles are given at the head of the present
*
paper. Schneidewin’s edition is known to students of Sophokles ;
so ought also to be the essay by G. Dronke, snatched from his
friends and from literature by an all too early death. Dr. Bib
beck’s paper, though short, is a concise estimate of the extant
dramas, and is written in a genial and scholarly style. The
present essay is an attempt to connect the works of Sophokles
with the periods of the poet’s life, and to point out the chief
dramatic characteristics of the several plays.
It was in the year 469 before our era, at the spring festival
of the greater Dionysia, that Athens saw the first trilogy of
Sophokles. The city was then full of new life ; it was the charmed
period when future greatness lay in bud, and not yet in blossom.
The terror of the Persian had been changed into an immortal
memory, and Athens was winning for herself the hegemony of
more than the Grecian race. This spring festival had drawn
many strangers to the city. The islands had not yet learned to
dread her power or doubt her justice, and sent their loyal visitors
to join in her rejoicing.
Two days of the festival had already passed, and a trilogy or
rather tetralogy had been presented each day. One was the
work of Aeschylus, for fourteen years the master of the Athenian
stage. Upon the third day a trilogy by a new poet was presented.
What thi^work really was is uncertain; it has, however, been
inferred from a passage in Pliny, that one drama was the Triptolemus. It was a subject that had never before been chosen for
the stage, but it was well adapted to win favour at Athens at the
present time. Already the city had conceived the design of
* No writer upon the life of Sophokles can forget the obligation which he
is under to Gotthold Ephraim Lessing—Mr. Plumptre most unaccountably
(p. xxii.) calls him Gottfried Lessing—whose splendid fragment of a ‘‘Life ot
Sophokles ” remains to show later writers what the great German critic might
have done in this direction.
B 2
�4
Sophokles.
uniting under a central power the scattered members of the Ionian
race, and the confederacy of Delos was in part a realization of
her desire. In the subject which he chose, Sophokles would
have an opportunity of idealizing the national aspiration.
Triptolemus was the youthful hero of Eleusis, the herald of
agriculture and peace, the friend and host of Demeter. He was
a traveller too, and where he lighted from his winged car, he
left a blessing of corn and wheat behind him. Thus Sophokles
was enabled to depict, as we know from Pliny he did depict, far
lands and foreign places, gladdened by the gifts that came from
Attica.
Whether he fully indicated such a mission for the new Attica
we cannot know; he was certainly too wise to miss the op
portunity altogether. It may well be that this power of repre
senting the national feeling, formed the distinctive characteristic of
the first trilogy of Sophokles; it is at least easier to believe this,
than that he surpassed the veteran JEschylus in technical ex
cellence. There was, however, a large section of the audience,
who preferred the JEschylean trilogy. Never, perhaps, in such
a cause, had party-feeling run so high. JEschylus was himself from
Eleusis; the new writer had won the suffrages of the elder poet’s
own townsmen. But the victory was not to be adjudged by
popular acclamation. The custom was that ten judges should be
elected by lot, one from each tribe. Why the ordinary mode of
decision was not retained, it is not easy to ascertain. At any
rate the presiding archon Aphepsion did not venture, in the
excited state of popular feeling, to follow the ordinary practice,
and this accident inaugurated a change in the method of electing
the tragic judges.
Kimon and his nine colleagues representing the Attic tribes
were at this moment the popular heroes. They had but newly
returned from their victorious contest with the Persians atEurymedon, and they had brought back from Skyros the bones of
Theseus to be laid in Attic soil. Moreover, they had been absent
during the preparation of the competing choruses, and, if any,
they were free from bias and prejudice Whatever their decision
might be, it would be accepted by the Athenians. With happy
tact, Aphepsion chose them as judges, and they were at once
sworn into the office. Their verdict was for Sophokles. Erom the
fact that henceforth only those who had seen service were allowed
to adjudge the tragic prizes, we may infer that the decision was
both memorable and satisfactory. Such at least seems to be the
sentiment with which Plutarch speaks of it : “ eOevto c’ dp
fj.v/]jur]v avrov Kai tt)v to>v rpaywcMv Kpiatv ovopacrrrjv ytvoplvriv.”
Whether it was the subject, the poetical handling, or the grace
and beauty of the principal actor, Sophokles himself, that turned
�Sophokles.
5
the scale in favour of the Triptoleinus, we miss the play with
regret. The result of the decision was that for many years
Sophokles became the favourite actor of the Athenian stage. There
is greater importance to be attached to this fact than at first sight
appears. It means not only that the successful dramatist was able,
to present his views cf art and ethics to the Athenian people ; but
that he was able to mould and perfect the form of presentation.
Nor must we forget the rival interests of the several tribes as an
element of success. The Choragus who had assisted in the pro
duction of a successful trilogy was rewarded even more than the
author. The actors were chosen for the same places in the
representations of the ensuing year, and we know that Sophokles
not only established a society of the best actors, but also wrote
his plays with special reference to their powers and capacities.
One success, therefore, was earnest of farther renown, and a
stepping-stone to it. The Choragus naturally granted to his
successful author more liberty than would be conceded to an
untried competitor, and it was this feeling of confidence in the
poet, which enabled Sophokles, as it had already enabled
.zEschylus, to achieve his ideal of dramatic art upon the stage.
But before we pass on to relate the gradual growth of the drama
in the hands of Sophokles, it will be well to speak of the young
poet in his personal relations to the Athenian people, who had
just crowned him with the ivy-chaplet.
If tradition is to be believed, he was not unknown to them. He
was not born of low or ignoble parents, for in this case the comic
stage would have rung with jesting allusions to his parentage.
His father, Sophillus, was undoubtedly a man of respectable rank,
a knight it may be. Plutarch speaks of Sophokles as a person
of good birth, and other writers attribute to him an excellent and
complete education. Probably with truth, for it is undoubted
that he possessed in a high degree those elegant personal accom
plishments which were deemed necessary accessories to an
Athenian gentleman. As the promising son of a well-known
citizen, he would be a youth who claimed attention ; and the
story of Athenaeus, which speaks of his surpassing beauty, is a'
record of the influence of his boyish grace upon his contem
poraries. It declares that he of all the Athenian youths, was
chosen to lead the choir of boys who danced round the trophies
in Salamis, after the defeat of the Persians. Aftertimes gladly
recalled the happy coincidence which linked the three great
names of Attic tragedy around the memorable victory of Salamis,
for Aeschylus fought in the battle, Sophokles led the paean, and
Euripides was born on the day of victory, within the fortunate
isle. The years which immediately followed the victory formed a
bright era in the history of the Athenians. They feared no more
�Sophokles.
6
for the barbarian invader, nor, by the prudence of Themistokles,
for the treachery of the selfish Spartans. At home there was room
in every sphere for the development of genius, and genius was
not absent. Under the hands of ./Eschylus the drama was
growing towards perfection, and the people built the great stone
theatre of Dionysus. A tradition says that ZEschylus was the
teacher of Sophokles in the dramatic art: it is most likely he
was his teacher only as he was the teacher of every Athenian
who had the right to hear his dramas. In this sense, each one
of his audience was his pupil, and not with regard to art alone.
It was his province to bring the minds of men from the dim
religious darkness of old theogonies into a fuller light, though a
light by no means so full as it was hereafter to be. Great
questions had been asked, and there was none to answer them ;
men’s minds were troubled with the inconsequence of virtue and
sorrow, and the polytheistic heaven of Homer was dark and
silent above them. The leading ideas of the tragedies of Adschylus
were the supremacy of Zeus, and the moral order of the Universe.
By chains, not always of gold, the world is bound about the
throne of Zeus. Vice leads to punishment in this generation,
and the next, and the third. Yet no voluntarily pure man can
come to ruin :
3’ avdyicaQ arep
(Action tiv ovk avoXfioQ
ekmv
carat.
H>vp.
550.
The contest of Destiny and Free-will is a mystery which finds
its solution only in this moral order. ’ wQpoavvir or moderation is
S
a conscious voluntary submission to the moral order. Any trans
gression of the line between Bight and Wrong is vfiptQ, and leads
to ruin. It is a disorder of the mind, a disease, a distemper,
without expiation and without cure. ZEschylus does not repre
sent the gods as leading man into the commission of guilt. In
the choice between good and evil, man is free. A good deed
must be, as an evil one is, dvdyaa^ drtp. No one is punished by
the Divine hand without fault of his own. But sin once com
mitted is followed by a judicial blindness which leads to other
and greater guilt. This dangerous downfall is accelerated by
means of a divine power known simply as “ Daimon,” or as
“ Alastor,” or sometimes “ Ate/’ whose influence may extend to a
whole race. This brings us to the subject of “family guilt,”
which is frequently a motive in the Greek dramas. The idea
that guilt was hereditary sprang from the notion that it was
inexpiable. Hence a house fell from one crime to another,
until the anger of the gods swept it away root and branch. It
is an extension of the primitive “ lex talionis murder brings
murder, rvppa TvppaTL rival, and guilt gives birth to guilt. And
�Sophokles.
7
what Ate or Alastor is to the individual, that Erinnys is to the
family, working it madness and blindness, and involving it
deeper and deeper in the slough of crime.
/3oct yap Xotyog ILpivvv
7rapa tGjv Trporspov (pQtpevwv drrjv
tTEpcw iTrayovaav £7r' dry.—Cho. 402.
Yet the individual is free. If he belongs to a doomed raise,
then it is true there is in him an hereditary tendency which
shall lead him to guilt and ruin, but the decision rests with him
self. He is not given over to Ate until he has himself been
guilty of sin (vj3ptc). In much of this ethical system 2Eschylus
has taken and arranged prevailing popular beliefs. By his
monotheism, which made Zeus supreme, he attained to the idea
of order in the universe. His conception of sin is one which
is not alien from some forms of modern thought, and his belief
in free-will and individual responsibility, exercised considerable
influence upon later philosophy.
Sophokles did not remain unaffected by the teaching of his
contemporary, though his nature was essentially different. His
works are to the works of Aeschylus, as the clear light succeeding
to a thunderstorm. He took the gain and added to it. We
shall see in what way.
Whatever had been the progress made by JEschylus, Sophokles
at once perceived that the mechanical and technical appliances
of the art, of which he now held supreme command, were by no
means perfect. It would be strange if they had been, while the
art itself was so young. The old monologue with the chorus as
interlocutor, gave place to the drama, when the earlier poet
introduced a second actor, and made dialogue possible. But
this, it is clear, left room for farther changes. Sophokles
availed himself of the opportunity. His first change was the
separation of the functions of author and actor. It is said that
he took this course for a personal reason, the weakness of his
own voice, which could not fill the vast space occupied by his
audience. But there was probably another reason also, the feeling
namely, that each character would more readily attain to its ade
quate excellence if separated from the other. He himself did
not take any leading character after the appearance of the
Triptolemus, but the care with which he trained his actors,
testifies to the importance which he attached to this branch of
the art. A more significant change was the introduction of a
third actor upon the stage. That this improvement was made
by Sophokles we have the testimony of Aristotle. It is possible
that even earlier, AEschylus may have used three actors, and it is
difficult to understand how some of the scenes of his earlier plays
�8
Sophokles.
could have been represented by two actors only, but the adoption
of this number as a permanent feature of each play, is due to
Sophokles. Besides these greater changes, no matter of detail
escaped him; we learn from the same source that he carefully
directed the arrangement of the scenery and the stage. The
palace of 2Eschylus, with doors central, right and left, gave place
to a more elaborate stage, and much art must have been required
in fitting the theatre for the scenery of the (Edipus at Kolonus.
Yet the greatest innovation was the mode which Sophokles
adopted in treating a subject itself. 2Eschylus wrote his dramas,
and treated the subject in the form of a trilogy. When Sophokles
abandoned this form of composition, and chose to develop his
subject in a single play, it is certain he risked much. But his
artistic sense could not err. What the poetical material lost in
breadth and depth, it gained in concentration and intensity. It
followed, that in the plays of Sophokles first was seen the real
spirit of Greek dramatic art, the perfect statuesque poise of form
and expression which we have learnt to look upon as the chief
characteristic of the Athenian drama.
We return to the year of the first victory of Sophokles, from
which these improvements have led us. It was a year marked
by an event of more importance for mankind than the supremacy
of Sophokles, the birth of Sokrates. Herodotus was then a boy
of sixteen years, Thukydides an infant of three, and Euripides a
child of twelve. Seven years later Perikles rose to the height
of his power, and Athens of her glory. This is the date of the
appearance of the Oresteian trilogy, a trilogy worthy of JEschylus
and of Athens, and the only one we possess. But it unquestion
ably exhibits marks of the influence of Sophokles. A third actor
appears in every play. Three years later fiEschylus died in Sicily,
and for the next fifteen years we know nothing of the personal
history of Sophokles. History has not much to say even about
the silent growth and development of the city under the govern
ing hands of Perikles, nor is it necessary that much should be
said when the memorials are imperishable. At the end of this
period, by some caprice of popular taste Euripides was allowed to
gain the first prize.
The next year Sophokles exhibited his Antigone.
It is almost as fatal to an author’s reputation to write too
much as it is to write too little. We learn that Sophokles had
written one-and-thirty dramas before he composed the Antigone;
yet if any of these lost dramas approached at all in majesty or
power the thirty-second, which remains to us, we may well
lament the irreparable theft of time. Perhaps they, as well as
the Antigone, aided in securing the election of Sophokles to a
general’s rank. The time at which it was exhibited has not
�Sophokles.
9
been fully illustrated by the luminous pen of Thukydides, but
some rays of historical light allow us to see the internal political
activity of the city. The establishment of a complete democracy
by Perikles and Ephialtes was not accomplished without much
resistance, and it was difficult to keep aloof from party strife.
The conservative or stationary faction, under the leadership of
Kimon, drew around them the wealthy Athenians, who saw
their oligarchical power passing away with the old order of
things. The centre of their union was the Council of the
Areopagus, and any change in that institution appeared to them
as sacrilege and profanity. But the victorious cause was with
their opponents. The Areopagites were stripped of their timehallowed privileges, which were certainly not in Accordance with
the spirit of a pure democracy. 2Eschylus had been a vigorous
partisan of the conservative party, and took occasion in his
Oresteian trilogy to inculcate popular respect for that court and
the other decaying institutions whose power Perikles and
Ephialtes sought to banish or curtail. And the artistic effect of
the poem is lessened by the zeal of the partisan. Muller says
with truth, that JEschylus seems almost to forget Orestes in the
establishment of the Areopagus and the religion of the Erinnys.
Sophokles never forgot that his first duty was to his art. And
so far is the
above the atmosphere of controversy
and dispute which blurred the Eumenides of ^Eschylus, that it
was actually claimed by both parties as a witness to their views,
and was received by both with un mixed applause. We cannot
wonder at it. No play of Sophokles seizes with such over
mastering power the human heart, no play is so full of noble
thought, and in no play is the lyric element so harmoniously
blended with the maich of events, accompanying it as with the
sound of serene and divine music.
The plot is as follows :—Eteokles and Polyneikes have fallen
at the gates of Thebes in contest: Eteokles fighting for the
Thebans, Polyneikes, with seven great princes, against them.
Both brothers perish, and Kreon is made king in the place of
Eteokles. At- once he issues a decree that Eteokles shall be
buried with due honours, and that the body of Polyneikes shall
be left unburied and exposed. When the drama opens, Antigone
has just heard of the proclamation of the decree. She therefore
suggests to her sister, Ismene, that they should bury the body of
their brother. Ismene shrinks from the attempt, and is met by
the full scorn of Antigone, who goes forth, daring “ a holy crime.”
Shortly the news is brought to Kreon that his authority has
been defied, and that rites of sepulture have been performed
upon the body. As yet the offender is unknown. But this is
soon revealed, and Antigone appears, led in by the guard. A
�10
Sophokles.
great scene follows, when Antigone appeals to > the divine
unwritten laws against human ordinances. Kreon pronounces
her doom ; she is to be buried in a living sepulchre—a bloodless
but horrible fate, not unknown of old. The action is, however,
delayed by the entrance of Hremon, Kreon’s son and Antigone’s
affianced husband, who pleads for her. Yet it is not to Kreon’s
paternal affection that he appeals, but to the principle which
the new king has set before himself—the safety and unanimity
of the state. There are already murmurs, indistinct but deep,
heard in the city against the severity of the king’s decree.
Kreon’s passion and blindness grow more intense as he listens to
his son, and before the king’s fiery words Hee mon is driven away,
crying that his father shall see his face no more. From the
depths of this-darkness the audience are lifted by the strains of
the Chorus, who sing, “ Love, ever victor in war and as their
music dies away, Antigone is led across the stage to her lingering
doom. Again the Chorus waken to music, but it is music in the
minor key, and can no longer lighten or delay the growing
terror. Teiresias, the blind but infallible prophet, appears, and
describes the imminence of the divine anger for Kreon’s crime.
His prophetic utterances terrify the king, who hurries to undo
the wrong he has committed. In vain. Upon reaching the tomb
of Antigone, he finds her hanging dead by her girdle to the
vaulted roof, and is in time only to receive the passionate curse
of his son, and to witness his self-inflicted death. When Kreon
reaches home, bearing the corpse of Haemon, he finds that
Rumour, swifter than his laden steps, has already told all to the
ears of his wife, and that she has slain herself in anguish and
despair. So all the fountains of feeling, young love and parental
affection, which can never be long pent up, have broken loose,
and are all the more terrible for the unholy obstructions which
they have swept away.
The character of the chief person, Antigone, stands forth
in just and magnificent proportions. All that is beautiful
in womanly nature—nay, rather in human nature—shine
forth from that supreme ideal, a mind that sees the right,
and a soul that dares to do it in the face of death. Never had
love and strength been so combined upon the Athenian stage,
and the Athenian spectators must have experienced the same
feeling in gazing upon that representation as pilgrims did when
they were ushered into the presence of the Olympian Zeus of
Phidias. We have lost the one? we can still be taught by the
other. The heart of man has not ceased to be shaken by the
contest which is waged between temporary expediency and selfish
interests on the one side, and on the other the unchanging
laws of higher duty, for these laws “ are not of to-day, nor of
�Sophokles.
11
yesterday, but they live always, and their footsteps are not
known.”
The secondary characters throw the figure of Antigone into
bolder relief. Ismene, who knows what is right, follows the way
which leads to personal security. The grandeur of Antigone dwarfs
even the natural nobility of her sister when she seeks to share the
death she has not earned. Kreon errs through insolence. He is
wanting in the vision which has made the path of Antigone clear ;
he has forgotten the rights of the gods, and his own way leads
to ruin. Only when this ruin is full in view does he perceive
that he has gone astray, and discover that there is something
higher than love to the state and to his country—loyalty to the
great unwritten laws. Nor does the character of Hsemon, noble as
it is, disturb the unity of the impression which we receive from
Antigone. She stands the central commanding figure of the
group. And as she thus stands alone, so in her the one promi
nent feature is her heroic allegiance to duty. Other traits there
are, but they serve to bring out this one characteristic. She is
no unwomanly person, portrayed in rough masculine lines. Her
language to Ismene, if it seems harsh, is forgotten when she says
to Kreon :
ou rot tnwEyOetv dXXd avp,^>iXAv tcpuv,
for we know that these words come from the depth of her nature.
Then, when the work which she has set herself has been accom
plished, when the expression of her natural feelings can no longer
mar or render equivocal her devotion to the dead, she breaks
into lamentations like those of the Hebrew daughter, which show
how tender and womanly alife is about to be sacrificed. Once only
before has she shown any indication of the mental struggle
through w’hich she has passed, and that is when strung by Kreon’s
unconcern she breathes forth the sighing complaint, “ 0 dearest
Hsemon, how thy sire dishonours thee !”* The delicacy with
which Sophokles has treated the ove of Hsemon and Antigone
secures still farther the predominant effect. It is hard to imagine
such restraint in modern art.
The Chorus, of whose surpassing melody mention has already
been made, had certain peculiarities in this play. It did not, like
most choruses, consist of persons of the same age and sex as the
principal actor, but of Theban elders. Nor did it at once take
part with Antigone. Even here she is left alone. But by its
submission to Kreon it serves to deepen the impression of the
* The MSS. gives this line (572) to Ismene. Schneidewin has rightly,
and for unanswerable reasons, assigned it to Antigone.
Dindorf and
Ribbeck agree with him.
�12
Sophokles.
monarch’s irresistible power : and by not participating at once in
the action, it is enabled to rise to a higher atmosphere of wisdom,
which culminates in the choric song,
7roXXa ra Seiva k.t.X.
So, too, in its last songs, the painful instances of suffering which
are recalled added to the darkness of Antigone’s fate.
The effect of this perfect drama upon the Athenians was great,
and as has been said, universal. Although Sophokles had hitherto
taken only that share in public life which was the duty of
every Athenian citizen, they now elected him as one of the
college of generals, at whose head was Perikles. It happened to
be the time of the war with Samos, which had revolted from
Athens, and the ten generals with sixty triremes sailed for that
island. Sophokles took sixteen of these ships and proceeded to
Chios and Lesbos, to procure a further contingent. At the former
island we hear of him through Athenreus, who records the opinion
of Ion, that he was not able nor energetic in political affairs, but
behaved as any other virtuous Athenian might have done.
(Ath. xiii. 81.) This assertion probably had its origin in the
playful self-depreciation with which Sophokles spoke of his own
strategic power ; and it is quite possible that Perikles treated his
poet-colleague with a good-humoured irony, which he accepted in
the same spirit. This view is borne out by the story which
Atnenseus tells of Sophokles : that, having snatched a kiss from
a fair face at Chios, he exclaimed amidst the laughter of the
company, “ Perikles says that I know how to compose poetry,
but have no strategic power; now, my friends, did not my
stratagem succeed ?” It is certain, however, that, whatever his
power as a general, he did not lose the confidence and affection
of his fellow citizens ; for, five years later, he was treasurer of the
common fund of the Greek Confederacy. Afterwards for nearly
thirty years we do not hear of his taking any part in public life.
But it was no time to him of intellectual inactivity. During this
period he wrote eighty-one plays, which is almost at the rate of a
trilogy a year. If we remember all that this includes—the com
position and the instruction of actors for so many and so fre
quently successfuldramas—we shall cease to wonder that Sophokles
did not seek to meddle with statesmanship. And once more we
shall regret that so little has come down to us of that abundant
intellectual wealth.
The commencement of the Peloponnesian war, and the
death of Perikles, turned one page of Athenian history ; but
Sophokles to the end of his long life continued to live in the
spirit of the Periklean age. Ten year after the appearance of the
Antigone he published the (Edipus Rex. The general outlines
of the story are easily told. Laius, King of Thebes, and J okasta
�Sophokles.
13
his wife, were told by the God at Delphi, that should they have
a son, Laius would be slain by his hand, and Jokasta would
become his wife. Therefore, when their son CEdipus was born,
they determined to destroy him, and gave him to a herdsman
that he might be cast out upon Mount Kithoeron. This herds
man, however, smitten with pity, gave the child to a comrade
shepherd, who carried him to Corinth, where the boy was adopted
as son by the king of that city. Many years afterwards, CEdipus
at Corinth heard the oracle which had been delivered concerning
him ; but he was still in ignorance as to his parentage. Think
ing, however, that he was the son of the king of Corinth, he left
Corinth lest the oracle should come true, and travelled towards
Thebes. Upon his way he met his real father, and a quarrel
having arisen, a contest ensued in which his father fell and all
those who accompanied him save one. (Edipus then arrived at
the kingless city of Thebes, which was ravaged by the murderous
Sphinx. He freed the city from the Sphinx and accepted the prof
fered throne, and with it the hand of the widowed queen, little
dreaming that she was his own mother. For years the city was
prosperous, and four children were born to him. Then a plague
fell upon the people. All this was before the action of the play
begins. An oracle now declares that the pestilence is sent because
Laius has been forgotten. His murderer must be ejected.
(Edipus pronounces a curse upon the unknown assassin, and
sends for Teiresias the blind seer, if peradventure he may be
able to declare the man. Teiresias, enlightened by his art,
scarce dares to tell what he knows, and is evilly treated by
CEdipus. Then Jokasta complicates the confusion. She openly
asserts her disbelief in oracles ; for her own son had been destined
by these lying witnesses to marry her; whereas he was slain, and
she was wedded to GEdipus. Yet out of this security
“ Surgit amari aliquid,”
Laius was slain at a “triple way
terrible words that
set sounding a sullen chord in the breast of (Edipus, for
long ago he slew a man upon a triple way. One witness there
was, and he is now summoned. Meanwhile a messenger
arrives to say that the king of Thebes, the reputed father of
(Edipus, is dead. This is a gleam of light upon the eyes of
CEdipus, for the oracle has been proved false.
The mes
senger has still farther comfort. CEdipus need not dread the
fulfilment of the oracle at all, since he is not the son of the king
and queen of Corinth, a fact dimly hinted before, but now for
the first time clearly told. Then whose son is he ? A new pas
sion seizes the king, and he is determined to unravel the mystery
of his birth. The messenger is able to aid him in this, for he
received the king as a foundling at the hands of a servant of
�14
Sophokles.
Laius. All is now ready for the catastrophe, which Jokasta, more
quickwitted than her son, at once foresees. The witness of his
murder of Laius, who at this moment comes up, is no other than
the herdsman who had given him as an infant to the Corinthians.
The electric circle is completed, the spark shatters the divine
edifice of royal prosperity and the hearts of the audience, and the
oracles of the gods are evidently true. Jokasta has already
ended her existence; and (Edipus. unable to endure the sight of
his own misery and that of his family, puts out his eyes.
There are several reasons why this drama should be assigned
to this period, notwithstanding the absence of authoritative data.
The vivid description of a pestilence was probably written by one
who had witnessed the virulence of the Athenian scourge. Some
commentators have believed the chorus tt poi
k.t.X. to have
reference to the mutilation of the Hermse. If this be true, the play
must necessarily be of later date than that supposed above. It
probably refers to the reckless spirit of licence w’hich exhibiteditself
in Athens as a reaction against the popular superstitions of the
earlier period, and which eventually led to the profanation. The
drama is in fact a protest against the disregard of religion, and a
magnificent exhibition of the vanity of human attempts to cross the
decrees of fate. In this respect it stands alone amongst the plays
of Sophokles. It depicts the contest of an honourable and noble
character with a foregone destiny. To add to the interest of the
picture, the man who is unable to solve the riddle of his own
history, is the one who alone was able to unravel the enigma
of human life proposed by the Sphinx, and it is only when the
eyes of his corporal vision are darkened for ever that the organs
of his spiritual sight are unclosed. At first his house is the only
one spared in the pestilence, and all eyes are directed to him as the
saviour of the state ; yet it is his house which is the cause of the
plague. Then his own blind eagerness to discover the regicide,
the curse which he unwittingly imprecates upon himself, 'the
gradual lifting of the curtain fold by fold till he breaks into the
exclamation,
lov, toil, ra navr av
<ra<p7j,
are terrible instances of the irony which Sophokles is accustomed
to ascribe to destiny, but nowhere so powerfully as in this play.
Surely but slowly the end approaches. Now the progress of
events is delayed by some joyous choric song like the imp tyii>
ptavriQ dpi, k.t.X. ; now there falls upon the play some beam of
hope which makes us believe that the gathering thunderstorm
will be dispersed or break up into sunny tears and the dewy
delight of averted calamity. But the vain hopes and the vanish
ing glory serve only as preludes to the complete darkness of the
catastrophe, which, at last, suddenly envelopes the w'hole heaven.
�Sophokles.
15
It is not only modern admiration which the play has won.
Aristotle has taken it as the model of a drama, and its effect
upon contemporary minds must have been great. It is equally
admirable as a whole and in single passages. The choruses are
generally like the atmosphere of the play, of a lurid and broken
colour, so that we know not whether light or darkness will
prevail. The earlier choruses approach in thought and expression
to the language of Milton, or of modern poetry. Thus the description of the rapid deaths in time of pestilence, so different as
it is from the picture given by Homer (II. 1) has that touch
about it which belonged later to Dante.
aXXor
av aXXp irpoffibote airep
kv7TTEpOV bpvcv,
Kpei&aoy apatpaKerov irupoQ Sp/ievoy
Q.KTCLV WpQQ ECTTTEpOU .&EOIK
“ And one soul after another might be discerned flitting like
strong-winged bird with greater force than invincible fire, to the
shore of the Western God.”
It recalls, too, the half-mediseval, wholly beautiful lines of Mr.
Rossetti in his poem of the “ Blessed Damozel.”
i
“ Heard hardly, some of her new friends
Amid their loving games
Spake evermore among themselves
Their virginal chaste names ;
And the souls mounting up to God,
Went big her like thinflames”
Another passage (lines 476 et seq.) is more Hebrew than
Greek in its description of the Cain-like homicide.
ipoird yap vir aypiciv
vXav, ava r ayrpa Kai
vrerpas are ravpos,
peXeo^ peXeip ~6ct ygripeviav,
ra. petropipaXa yaQ dirovoapiliiav
pavreia' rd 8’ dec
ZUvra irepcrrordrai.
"For sullenly turning his sullen step, he wanders moodily
under the wildwood, or amid caves and rocks, like a bull, and
avoids the divine voices that rise from the central oracle of the
land. But they live, and are whispered around him.”
Yet this incomparable poem won only the second prize; the
first was gained by the work of Philokles. Time, in preserving
this alone, has reversed the decision of the judges. The reason
of that decision may lie in the nature of the play itself. To the
Athenians, who after the taking of Miletus could not endure
�16
Sophokles.
the scenic shadow of their loss, the unsoftened representation of
their sufferings in the Theban plague, and the direct promulgation
of the doctrine of irresistible destiny may have seemed unwelcome
and ill-timed. And the conclusion of the play is less relieved
than that of any other. It is not broken up into those short
cries and natural lamentations, with which many tragedies
close, but solemnly and sadly to the beat of throbbing trochaics
the figures pass from the stage like the muffled pomp of a
funeral procession, and the curtain rises upon a silent- and awe
struck audience.
It is far otherwise with the (Edipus at Kolonus. Like the
Rhiloktetes, it has a plot which depends upon divine interven
tion, and one in which the sequence of the episodes is not
absolutely perfect in connexion, though each episode is perfect in
its own characteristic beauty. After the events depicted in
(Edipus Rex, the blind king with his daughters remained at
Thebes, until he and Antigone were thrust forth by Kreon. For
many long months they wandered through Greece, whilst Eteokles,
the younger son of CEdipus, drove out from Thebes Polyneikes
the elder, who betook himself to Argos and gathered an army to
make him king again. At last CEdipus and Antigone came to
the plain of Kolonus, near Athens. Here, beneath the shade of
an olive-grove, the aged king sits down to rest, and here an inward
confidence tells him that he is approaching the term of his suffer
ings. This olive-grove is sacred to the Furies, and it is sacrilege
for ordinary men to approach it. The news reaches Theseus that
stranger has set foot within the lioly precincts, and he hastens
to the place. Before his arrival Ismene comes in haste to tell
her father of the fratricidal war upon which her brothers have
entered, and that Kreon is hurrying to carry back CEdipus, since
an oracle has declared that his presence will bring victory on
either side. CEdipus pronounces a curse upon his son, and reveals
his intention of blessing Athens by remaining within her territory.
Theseus now arrives, and not ignorant of the responsibility he is
incurring, assures CEdipus of a courteous and secure hospitality.
CEdipus in return acquaints him with the benefits which his
presence will confer upon Athens, and the calamity which will
ensue to Thebes. Theseus accepts with confidence the divine
privilege which CEdipus offers, and once more assures him of his
protection. If ever a situation made a supreme demand upon
an Athenian chorus, it is the present. We have come to the
middle point between the beginning and the end of the action.
The Acropolis of Athens, though as yet unblessed by the works
of Phidias, rises within sight of the beholder. Kephissus draws
her silvery threads through the foreground, and the hero-prince
of Athens, in accepting the charge of CEdipus, unites the new and
�Sophokles.
17
the old, and links historic to heroic times. The music which
shall not mar the harmonious suspense of this situation must be
subtie indeed. But the music of Sophokles is never of a nega
tive kind. It increases and enhances the dramatic feeling.
Accordingly it is here that we find the greatest choric ode of the
Greek drama. The undying chords of the poem which follows
raise the mind of the hearer to a level with the exaltation of
CEdipus himself.
Pahttttov, Rve, raffle ^(ijpag.
“ Guest, thou art come to the noblest spot
Of all this chivalrous land.”
But this lofty tranquillity is broken by the entrance of Kreon,
who endeavours to persuade CEdipus to return to Thebes. Upon
his refusal, Kreon has recourse to violence, and carries off Anti
gone, Ismene having been previously secured. Theseus however
restores his daughters to the blind king. The next scene brings
upon the stage Polyneikes, who seeks reconciliation with his
father. This he does not succeed in obtaining, and he leaves
the stage begging for the kind offices of Antigone in his burial.
The play now draws to a close. The euthanasia of CEdipus is all
that remains. The hour of destiny has come, and the Passing
of CEdipus—no man knows where or whither—completes the
purpose of the gods.
A question so debated as the date of this play can scarcely be
Answered satisfactorily here. Critics both ancient and modern have
connected it with the latest period of the author’s life; but there
are portions of the drama which seem to belong to an earlier date,
and. to have reference to that period of reactionary licence which
was marked by the mutilation of the Hermse. By its subject it is
closely connected with the CEdipus Rex, and there is nothing im
probable in the supposition that even if it were first produced after
the author’s death, it was begun whilst the subject of CEdipus was
fresh in his mind. And if any parallelism is to be drawn
between Sophokles and the great German poet, this work may
well be compared with the “Faust,” from which the summa
manus was so long withheld. The allusions in the poem itself
do not fix it to any definite date. ' All that can be said with
certainty is that it is subsequent to the Antigone; for while
both plays that have CEdipus for their subject contain references
to the Antigone, that drama has not a single allusion to the
action of the other two. Whether, however, we are to credit it
with an earlier or later origin, we sh^ild be doing an injustice to
the spirit of Sophoklean poetry if we were to Suppose that
political allusions brought down the drama into a realistic atmo
sphere.’ It is idle to attempt to connect the Theban and Athenian
[Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.J—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I.
C
�18
Sophokles.
struggle which the poet mentions, with any special date.
*
It is
more profitable to win the freedom of that ideal land in which
are brought together the blind old king and the hero of Athens.
In some respects the (Edipus at Kolonus differs from the
other dramas. There is in it a perplexing mixture of manner
which suggests both a return to the style of Aeschylus and a
concession to the growing influence of Euripides. The self
completion and perfection of outline, which marked the Antigone
and the (Edipus Rex are wanting here. The drama is the
fragment of a trilogy of Aeschylean breadth ; it is rhetorical and
lyric in the style of Euripides. The real Sophoklean charac
teristics are not, however, absent, sweetness and power of
expression, lofty and graceful sentiment, and a perfection of
rhythm and vivid delineation. But it is a series of linked
scenes rather than a drama proper. Of scenes that begin with
the peaceful olive grove, and end in the euthanasia of the
world-worn (Edipus. Nothing could be finer or more effective
than that touch of the pen of Sophokles which paints, not
indeed the death of (Edipus, but Theseus, who alone saw it,
with his face shaded by his hand, as though to shut out some
stupendous revelation. To this history of (Edipus Sophokles
has given the only satisfactory and worthy conclusion which
was possible. In his life he was a contradiction to the laws that
regulate human affairs ; he remained a contradiction in his
death. Others passed by the grove of the Eumenides with
bated breath and averted faces—he found there rest and a
conclusion of his toils. The grove trodden by Bacchus, nymphtraversed and nightingale-haunted, was to him, upon whom all
tempestuous airs had broken, a haven “ windless of all storms.”
And here the troubled life at length ceases, and peace is found
at last. In the choruses of this play the poet’s love of Athens
finds expression. Many poets had spoken with enthusiasm of
the “ violet-crowned city,” but never with such beauty and
exalted passion as does Sophokles in the ode, zviirirov,
k.t.X.
The legends connected with it are probably false, but they bear
witness to the opinion of the ancients concerning'it. Sophokles,
unlike his rivals in the dramatic art, remained true to his native
city. No offer of foreign patronage could tempt him to leave
Athens. Aeschylus died in Sicily, Euripides in Macedonia.
There were many princes who would gladly have welcomed
Sophokles to their courts—indeed, there were many who invited
him thither; but he remained unmoved by their offers, and
never left his city except to do her service and to further
* Schneidewin suggests the i7F7ro/xa^ta rts Bpax/ia ev Qpvpois, mentioned
Thukyd. ii. 22, as a possible occasion.
�Sophokles.
19
aer interests. The anonymous biographer says that he was
^adrivaioTaTOQ, (t most enamoured, of Athens.
And the city
repaid his affection. The same biographer says, “In a word,
such was the grace of his nature that he was beloved by all.
It is unfortunate—it is more than unfortunate—that of the
personal history of the poet we know so little. Few and far
between are the dates that we can assign to the events of his
life. The seventeenth year after the supposed date of the
(Edipus Rex saw the calamitous termination of the Sicilian
expedition. Amongst the names of the ten elderly men elected
Probuli to meet the emergency of the crisis, we find that ot
Sophokles. If this be indeed our poet, we have here another
instance of the confidence and love which the city felt towards
the tragedian, who was now eighty years old. The seventeen
years to which reference has been made are important in the
history of Greek literature. They include the birth of Plato, the
exhibition by Aristophanes of the Knights, the Clouds, and the
Peace, but they cannot definitely be connected with any play of
Sophokles. Possibly the Elektra falls within this period. It is
at any rate marked by the best characteristics of the poet. It
.dispenses with the breadth of treatment which a trilogy allows,
and concentrates the interest upon the action of a single play.
In the trilogy upon the same subject which AEschylus exhibited,
probably thirty years earlier, the death of Klytemnestra forms
an episode of the middle drama, and the ethical problem of
filial duty in antagonism to divinely-directed justice is sketched
only in outlines which leave much to be filled in.
Sophokles treated the subject as follows :—During the absence
of Agamemnon in the Trojan campaign, his wife Klytemnestra
formed an adulterous union with AEgisthus, and upon the return
of Agamemnon, slew her husband and wedded with AEgisthus.
Elektra, daughter of Agamemnon, fearing foul treatment for
her brother Orestes, then a child, sent him out of the country,
whilst she herself remained, together with her sister Chrysothenis,
at Argos, waiting for the manhood and return of Orestes to
claim his hereditary throne. When due time arrives, Orestes,
under the direction of Apollo, comes back to Argos unheralded
and unknown. He is accompanied by his faithful attendant the
Peedagogus, who brings to Klytemnestra an account of the death
of Orestes at the Pythean chariot contest. The play opens with
the arrival of Orestes and his attendant at Argos. Elektra comes
forth to bewail the death of her father and the delay of Orestes,
and is comforted by such consolation Us the chorus can offer her.
Next, Klytemnestra, who has been terrified by a dream, appears,
and
angry altercation takes place between her and Elektra.
When this is concluded, the Psedagogus enters and announces the
c 2
�20
Sophokles.
death of Orestes. The grief of Elektra occupies the attention of
the spectators until the entrance of the disguised Orestes and
Pylades his friend, bearing an urn which contains the pretended
ashes of Orestes. In the interview between Orestes and Elektra
which, follows, a recognition takes place, and nothing remains
to be done but to effect the revenge. Orestes therefore enters
the house and slays his mother, and ffEgisthus, upon his arrival,
shares the same fate.
The work of Sophokles is finer and fuller of artistic power
than the work of 2Eschylus. The character of Elektra is un
borrowed, and forms a contrast to that of the Aeschylean Elektra.
She, and not Orestes, is the centre of the action, and though
not the actual avenger, is really the prompter and promoter of
the deed. In the Choephorce we are perpetually reminded that
the death of Klytemnestra was the work of the gods; Elektra
falls into the background, a weak, suffering woman, whose
strongest trait is love for her brother, and he, a mere tool in the
hands of the deity, after numerous hesitations and delays in
accomplishing the divine purpose, becomes a victim of madness
and terror. The Sophoklean drama is more valuable than the
Aeschylean trilogy. In the Elektra we have, as in the Antigone,
a distinct and noble type of character set in full light and drawn
in clear lines of power. Elektra is the personification of justice
and fidelity, as Antigone is of love and strength. Like justice,
she never wavers from her purpose. When all hope of the
return of Orestes has ceased and his death seems certain, she
herself undertakes the work which should have been his, for
vengeance must be done, and the house of Agamemnon must
be freed from the accursed and abiding crime. And when
Orestes reveals himself as her brother, she does not leave the
central position of the group. One short burst of natural joy,
and she is ready to take any measures which may bring about
the punishment of the murderess. Nay, she stands on guard
while the deed is being done, and to the prayers of Klytemnestra
her answers are stern and inexorable as destiny. With subtle
words of double meaning she leads AEgisthus into the prepared
snare, and then forbids parley or delay—dXX’ wq rax^ra ktzivs,
she says—and the house of Athens is freed from its long and
intolerable servitude.
The character of Elektra, as we see it in its final manifestion, is
as terrible as it is grand. Klytemnestra endeavours to justify her
owm conduct, and to represent it as righteous; but Elektra strikes
the key-note in her long nightingale lament, when she says,
ooXoc r/i' 6 (ppaaac, tpoc o tcrtlvac.
Chrysothenis, weak and vacillating, ready to condone the past
�Sophokles.
21
and enjoy the present, serves as a foil to the stronger character
of her sister. The same may be said of the Chorus,, which
although sympathetic, does not rise to the same heights of
sublimity or lyric sweetness as in the other plays of Sophokles.
Dr. Ribbeck sees here a reason for believing the Elektra to be
an early work. Yet it is not the lyric element which we should
expect to see failing in a younger work, and the conception and
delineation of character in the Elektra is of the highest kind.
The balance of proportion between the brother and sister is
admirably kept. Orestes is not the instrument of the gods,
though under their protection, but of Elektra. By her side he
must not waver, he must proceed at once to vengeance.
That portion of the ethical question which yEschylus has
indicated in the Eumenides does not come into the drama of
Sophokles.
The description of the chariot race has always been regarded
with justice as a masterpiece of art, and there is scarcely any
thing more touching in literature than the scene which describes
the recognition of brother and sister, and the rapid change of
mood, which, in broken iambics, passes from hopeless sorrow into
Overpowering joy.
In the Elektra, Sophokles presents before us a character,
which, as it were, wrestles with destiny, and conquers ; in the
Ajax we have a character ennobled by its very defeat.
Ajax was the most distinguished of the Greek generals in the
Trojan war, next to Achilles, and upon the death of Achilles a
dispute arose for the arms of that hero. The claimants were
Ajax and Ulysses, and the arms were adjudged to the latter. Full
of anger at this decision, Ajax determined to slay both Ulysses
and the Atridse, who had acted as arbitrators; but as he was
going by night to accomplish his revenge, he was inspired with
madness by Athene, whose aid he had previously rejected. In
this madness he fell upon the flocks of cattle around the camp,
and slew some and carried others to his tent, thinking he had
captured in them his rival and his enemies. When day dawns
his right mind returns, and he is overwhelmed with the ignominy
of his position and resolves to put an end to his life. This he
accomplishes by falling upon his sword. The Atridee command
that his body should be left unburied, but Teucer resists
them, and he is honourably buried. This drama is placed
here, not because it certainly belongs to this period, but
because its date is undetermined and undeterminable. Schneidewin and others assign it to an earlier period, make it indeed
nearly contemporary with the Antigone, both on account
of its resemblance in lyric measures to the 2Eschylean dramas,
and on. account of the rarity with which a third actor is brought
�22
Sophokles.
forward. But the Antigone sufficiently shows that Sophokles
had passed this stage. Others see in the speeches which follow
the suicide of Ajax an approximation to the rhetorical style of
Euripides. Those who adopt a middle course, will place it rather
in the long undated period, when the literary activity of
Sophokles was at its height. It is a poem in which the national
feeling of Athens was likely to find especial gratification. Of all the
heroes celebrated in the Iliad, Ajax was the only one that Athens
could claim as connected with herself. Salamis had been in
close union with Athens from immemorial time, and one Athenian
tribe took its name from Ajax. Herodotus tells us (viii. 64), that
before the battle of Salamis, the Athenians prayed to all the
gods, and to Ajax and Telamon. This connexion gives rise to
the beautiful ode
<j) tcXeiva 'SiaXap.tQ k.t.X.
The drama opens with a scene which breathes the frenzy of fierce
hatred and lust for murder that mark Northern poetry rather
than Greek. Yet it serves to set a stamp upon the character of
Ajax, and to indicate his disposition, not without a warning note
of admonition. The degradation into which Ajax has fallen is a
punishment for the excess of that self-reliance which forms a
heroic character, the first sin which he commits is insolence
(w/3pic). When setting out to battle, he rejected the pious prayer
of his father, that he might wish to be victorious by the help of
the gods, and added the vaunt, “With a god’s help, even a
man of nought may win the victory; but I, I trust, without
God’s help shall be victorious.” And in the battle itself, when
Athene proffered aid, he bade her go elsewhere, for he would
none of it. Such is the disposition of the man who finds too late
that he is powerless against the gods. But against disgrace his
unyielding mind still contends. The real interest of the drama
lies in the moral conflict between heroic independence and the
necessity of submission to higher authority. The motives for
submission are forcibly brought out, the agony of disgrace, and
the strength of domestic affection. The turning point is reached
when Ajax says—“ I, once as strong as steel, have now been
softened by the words of this woman as steel is softened by the
bath, and I shrink from leaving amongst my enemies, her a
widow, and my son fatherless.” Yet from the shame there is
now but one escape, and from that he does not shrink—death.
But ere he goes to the baths of ocean and the sea-marge, where
he may appease the wrath of the goddess by his death, he freely
acknowledges his error. Honour and authorrty are worthy of
submission. Snowfooted winter yields to blooming spring, and
dark-tiaraed night gives place to bright-crowned day. Life is full
of change, so he too bends to authority, fears God and honours
�Sophokles.
23
the Atridse. Another scene reveals Ajax about to put an end
to the life he can no longer honourably cherish. His last prayer
is earnest and simple—That Teucer' may first raise his body,
and give it rites of sepulture; that Hermes may grant him
funeral escort; and that Helios may rein in his golden car, and
tell the sad news to his aged father and mother. Then follows
the farewell of the Greek to the bright sun, a long adieu to
Salamis and illustrious Athens, and all the plains and crystal
founts of Troy.
It is perhaps worth pointing out that this drama has severa
Shaksperian peculiarities. As in the works of our own drama
tist, overflowing sorrow finds relief in a play upon words.
aiai, r/c av ~or we0’ wi’ £7rwrvjuor
TOVjJ.OV
OVO/J-Cl TOIQ EpLOLQ KCLKOLQ j
The speech already referred to (line 646), which describes in the
form of a soliloquy a moral crisis, is in the manner of the English
writer, and the final monologue of Ajax recalls the meditation
of Hamlet.
Minuter resemblances might be noted. The cry of the sailors
in their search for their lost chief—ttovoq Trouw ttovov <pep&c—may
almost be translated by the “ Double, double toil and trouble
of the Witches in. Macbeth.
But a more characteristic peculiarity of the drama is the sea
air which blows through it, and the number of nautical allusions
which must have been grateful to a seafaring people. Sophokles
never forgets the mariners of Athens in his eulogies of the city.
In the great choric song of the (Edipus at Kolonus, the crowning
glory of the land is “ the well-used oar fitted to skilful hands,
that leaps through the sea in the train of the hundred-footed
Nereids,” and here from the first we are thrown into sailor
company. It is to the “ shipmates of Ajax, from over the sea/’
that Tecmessa turns in her trouble, and it is they who search
for their lost leader at the last, though Sophokles with poetic
propriety reserves the discovery of his body for Tecmessa herself.
And to the sea the thoughts of Ajax turn in his despair :
“ 0 ye paths of the watery reach,
O ye caves of the sea,
O ye groves of the Ocean beach,
Where my steps were wont to be.”
By the death of the hero atonement for all his sins is made,
and his body is honourably buried by' the sea he loved.
It is a real satisfaction to arrive at a period when we can
attach a date to a play of Sophokles. In B. C. 409 appeared the
Philoktetes. Before this time Athens had passed through
�24
Sophokles.
the conspiracy of the Four Hundred, and had seen the recall
of Alkibiades. In the measures of the oligarchical body we are
told Sophokles concurred, not because they were good, but
because they were expedient. “ ov yap vjv aXXa /BeXn'w/’ are
the words attributed to him. The anecdote, however, may
possibly refer to another Sophokles. It is possible also that
Sophokles had little sympathy with the later democracy, which
may have alienated amongst others the mind of the poet. But
his poetry retained the astonishing energy and freshness of his
younger days. The Philoktetes shows no sign of the, decay of in
tellectual power. It is worthy of the first prize which it received.
The subject was not a new one upon the Attic stage. kEschylus
and Euripides had handled it before, and other tragedians
had aided in making it familiar to an Athenian audience.
Sophokles, while adopting the well' known mythical outlines
as the groundwork, succeeded in lending the drama a new
and powerful motive. These outlines are to be found in
Homer. (II. 2. 716). Philoktetes, carrying the arrows of Her
cules, joined the expedition against Troy, but being wounded
in the foot by a serpent, he was left in the island of Lemnos.
In the tenth year of the war it was predicted by a Trojan
prophet that Troy could only be taken by the arrows of
Hercules, then in the possession of Philoktetes. Accordingly
Ulysses and Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, were sent to Lemnos
to bring Philoktetes with his arrows to Troy. The play opens
with the landing of these messengers upon the island of Lemnos.
Ulysses tutors Neoptolemus in deceit, and urges him to gain
possession of the arrows by falsehood. Neoptolemus obeys, and
having persuaded the suffering Philoktetes that he is about to
take him home is entrusted with the arrows. When Philoktetes
discovers the treachery that has been practised upon him, he
endeavours to commit suicide, but is prevented. Feelings of pity
and compassion now come upon Neoptolemus, and he restores
the arrows in spite of the angry remonstrances of Ulysses. The
mission has thus nearly failed of its object, when Hercules de
scends from heaven, and bids Philoktetes proceed to Troy, where
he shall win renown and be healed of his sore disease. The
interest of the play does not centre in the person whose name
it bears, but in the person of Neoptolemus. It is his character
that Sophokles has brought out from the massive block of
tradition in proportions of exceeding beauty. Between Philok
tetes hardened by suffering, and Ulysses wily and wise, the openhearted son of Achilles stands forth a contrast to both. This
contrast of character, together with the dramatic development of
natural nobility in the person of Neoptolemus, is the work of
Sophokles alone, and bears his stamp. The minor characters
�Sophokles.
25
are powerfully drawn. Philoktetes is immovable in his love to
his friends and in his hatred to his enemies. The extreme
agonies of physical suffering which wring from him cries and
groans, leave him still tears for the misfortunes of his friends
and imprecations for his foes. He is, in the words of Lessing,
a rock of a man,”* a hero still, though life has lost all that is
worth living for, except constancy and submission to the gods.
The Ulysses of this drama is differently portrayed from the
Ulysses of the Ajax, and the Ulysses of Homer. He is brought
forward in an ungracious part, and one more in accordance
with the role he takes in the plays of Euripides. He counsels
deceit and is willing to attain his end by means honourable or
dishonourable. We must not however forget that this end is
the well-being of the Greeks, and that the means are poetically
justified by his knowledge that neither persuasion nor violence
will avail to shake the firmness of Philoktetes. The psycholo
gical interest lies then in the struggle through which the mind
of Neoptolemus has to pass. On the one hand, with the bow of
Philoktetes he may win undying renown by the taking of Troy,
but he must desert and deceive his father’s friend, leaving him
doubly desolate and deprived of the means of supporting his
piteous existence. On the other hand he must bear the bitter
reproaches of Ulysses, the loss of the promised glory, and the
failure of the Achaean arms, but he will have respected the
rights of a suppliant and his plighted word. How will the
struggle end ? The sincerity of a noble nature prevails. Already
the treachery inspired by Ulysses has been successful; the bow
of Philoktetes is in his hand, but he can no longer endure the
part he has been compelled to play: he leaves the path of deceit
into which he has been misled, and assumes the character which
he has already shown to be his. The intervention of the “ deus
ex xnachina ” serves only to j ustify what has happened, it neither
diminishes the interest nor interferes with the action of the play.
The psychological question has been already answered.
The Trachinice is to be considered a later work than the
Philoktetes. Otherwise it is probable that Sophokles would
have used the connexion that lies in their subjects. For the bow
of Philoktetes was none other than that bequeathed him by
Hercules at his death. The Trachinice tells the story how
the death of Hercules was unwittingly brought about by his wife
Deianeira. Many years before the opening of the play, Hercules
had slain the Centaur Nessus by means of his unerring and
poisoned arrows. As he was dying, the Centaur bade Deianeira
take of the blood of his wound and the poison of the arrow, and
* “Laokoon,” ch. iv. p. 34.
�26
Sophokles.
preserve it, for it would prove an unfailing philtre to recover her
husband’s affection if he ever forsook her for another woman.
When the play opens, Hercules has been long absent, but is now
returning with captives, the reward of his victorious arms.
Amongst these captives, who arrive at Trachis before Hercules,
is the beautiful Iole, and Deianeira is not long in learning that
she it is who now possesses the affections of her husband. There
fore she imbues a garment with the philtre she had received
from Nessus, and sends it to Hercules, bidding him wear it whilst
transacting the sacred rites of Zeus. The venom of the mixture
does not fail in its efficacy. It seizes at once upon the body of
Hercules, who is consumed with intolerable burnings. In the
agony of death he orders himself to be borne home, but the news
flies before, and Deianeira ends her life with her own hand. Upon
his arrival, Hercules bids his son Hyllus erect a funeral pile for
him on Mount Oeta, and after his father’s death marry Iole.
The drama concludes with the promise of Hyllus to obey his
father.
The opinions as to the value of the drama have been
various. A. W. Schlegel deemed it of far inferior merit to that
of the other plays, and many modern readers have agreed with
him. Schneidewin, a critic of weightier authority, places it ex
ceedingly high amongst the works of ancient art. In looking at
it, however, we must regard it as a diptych rather than a single
picture. From this circumstance it suffers perhaps when compared
with the other works by the same author. Nevertheless each
part has its own merit. In the first part the figure of Deianeira
forms the centre; in the second, the half-divine half-savage cha
racter of Hercules exercises a strange imperious fascination upon
the spectator. Nothing can be more delicately and finely
represented than the amiable character of Deianeira, the faithful
and forgiving wife. It is in the true colour of Sophoklean irony
that the sympathy of a tender nature which leads her to express
pity for the captive woman, draws her most closely to Iole, who
is the cause of her misfortune. And it is the very strength of her
love for Hercules which brings about his ruin and her own. The
first part of the Trachinice may indeed be ranked with the best
dramatic exhibitions of character. Nor is it deficient in those
cross lights and special excellences in which the best abound. The
self-devotion and feminine dignity of Deianeira reaches its climax
when she implores Lichas to tell her the whole truth :—
ph 'ttvQegQu.i tovto p aXyovsiEV av‘
c’ EtSevat tI Seivov ; ov^l ^ciTEpas
teXelcetciq dv^p eiq HpaKXrjg EyypE c)/;;
kovttii) tlq avT(Sv ek y Epov Xoyov KOKOV
TJVEyKa.T' ovZ' ovelZoq.
to
to
�27
Sophokles.
This is in the very spirit of mediaeval devotion, and almost
in the words of the “ Nut-browne Mayde
“ Though in the wode I understode
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought
But that I will be your.
And she shall find me soft and kynde,
And courteys every hour.”
*
For vigorous word-painting, the passage which describes the
virulent corruption of the poisoned wool rotting away into nothing
ness, is unsurpassed. (Lines 695 et seq.)
The second portion of the diptych is less agreeable to modern
feeling, since the character of Hercules seems little fitted for the
tragic stage. By his semi-divinity he is above humanity, by his
semi-brutality he is below it. Hercules suffering is most likely
to gain our sympathy ; for the picture of excessive suffering is
redeemed from the peril of awaking horror or disgust by the
consistency and firmness of Hercules. He meets death with his
spiritual strength still unbroken, and his self-possession when he
recognises his real position changes the grief of the spectator into
admiration of his undaunted fortitude.
The marriage which he is represented as proposing between
Hyllus and Iole, however repugnant to modern, feeling, was too
firmly an article of popular belief rooted in popular tradition to
be neglected in the drama.
Nor does Herodotus (vi. 52) deem the tradition unworthy of
notice, since it was from Hyllus that he traced the descent of the
Dorian invaders of the Peloponnese.
The link which binds together the two portions of the drama
and preserves the unity of the action is the magic poison of the
Centaur. In the first part we have the motives which lead up
to its use; in the second we see its effects. The same protagonist
took the parts both of Deianeira and of Hercules.
The long and illustrious life of Sophokles was now drawing to
a close—a life more enviable, perhaps, than that of any man
who has lived so long. He had seen the growth of the Athenian
state ; he was spared the sight of her last declining days. He
was the contemporary of all the great men who had made Athens
glorious ; and he was the personal friend of many of them. Ten
years older than Euripides, he yet survived him, and lived to see
his own son Iophon wearing the ivy crown. One pleasing anec
dote is told of the last year of the poet’s life. When the news of
the death of Euripides in Macedonia reached Athens, Sophokles
was preparing a tragedy for exhibition. As a last tribute of
respect to the memory of his rival, he himself appeared in
mourning at the head of his chorus, and the choral company
�28
Sophokles.
were without the wreaths which they were accustomed to
wear. The wife of Sophokles was a native of Athens and was named
Nikostrate. By her he had one son, Iophon, already mentioned.
By Theoria of Sikyon he was the father of Ariston, whose son,
Sophokles, reproduced the (Edipus ad Kolonus two years after
the death of his grandfather. A story related by Cicero, and
often repeated, asserts that Iophon brought his father before the
Phratores on the ground of mental incapacity to manage his own
affairs. There is much improbability in the story and we may
well discredit any tradition of dissension in the family of
Sophokles. Hardly, if the story be true, could the comic writer
Phrynikus have written, as he did, a few months after the poet’s
death, a lament with the concluding words—
KaXwg
eteXeudjct’
inrop-EivaQ micov.
The immediate occasion of his death is unknown, and various
accounts are extant. One tradition asserts that it was joyous
excitement at again winning the tragic prize. Beit so. kuXwq
S’ EreXEurr/crEv. In the year B.C. 406, the year of the battle of
Arginusse, Athens lost her two great tragic writers, Sophokles
and Euripides.
Our consideration of the plays will be more than imperfect
unless we examine briefly the religious views with which they
are interpenetrated and coloured. What was the religious
position of the mind that conceived and brought them forth?
Art and religion have often been combined, but never more
intimately than in the dramas of Sophokles. rsyovs Ss koI
Oeo([>lXt)G o
wc
ovk. aXXoq,
says the anonymous
biographer: “ Sophokles was beloved of the gods as no other.”
And the attitude of the poet’s mind was one of reverent, almost
superstitious, adoration of the gods. ZEschylus, no less than
Sophokles, believed in the nothingness of human nature and the
omnipotence of Zeus. For man he marked out a narrow path
beyond which he could not go without offending those unsleeping
powers which punish the insolence of men to the third and fourth
generation of them that transgress. This narrow path he named
crw^poo-vvz/; Sophokles called it tvKpjtta, reverence.
In the Elektra the chorus says to Elektra (1093)
“ Thus have I found thee not in prosperous case
Advancing, but of all the highest laws
Wearing the crown by reverence (suth/SEta) of Zeus.”
And in the same play, commending her language, the chorus
says (464)
“ The maiden speaks with reverence.”
�Sopholdes.
29
In the chorus of the (Edipus Rex (863) the doctrine of
tvatflua is laid down at length. And in the praise which CEdipus
gives to Athens ((Ed. Koi. 1125) the highest is that she is the city
where Reverence dwells:—
E7TEI TO y EVffefjEC
povotQ irap vpiv -qvpov avOpuiruv Eya>.
How comes it then, if this be a chief article in the religion of
Sophokles, that so many of his characters are found speaking
against the gods ? The number of characters who so speak is
not very great. Tecmessa accuses Pallas of working the bane of
Ajax (Ag. 652). Philoktetes doubts the justice of the gods
(Phil. 447), and again (1035). Hyllus (Trach. 1266) speaks
Still more harshly of their unkindness, and reproaches (1272)
Zeus himself. But it is to be remembered that Sophokles him
self does not always speak by the mouth of his characters. Their
verisimilitude lends a force and warmth to the personification
which is absent from the poems of ZEschylus. It is quite in keep
ing with the Sophoklean stage that his dramatispersonce should
not be without a tinge of popular superstition. Instances may be
selected. Thus, Teucer is persuaded that the sword of Hector
was fabricated by the Erinnys ; Hercules calls the fatal robe
which takes away his life a web of the Erinnys ; Deianeira is
the victim of a popular superstition when she sets her hopes upon
a love-charm ; and the guardians of the corpse of Polyneikes are
instances of a similar delusion, when they believe that the unseen
burial was supernatural.
But Sophokles, as he bad received from the hands of ZEschylus
the drama already formed, so, too, he accepted from him a body
of religious doctrines already in advance of popular belief. Nor
was the progress which he inaugurated in this line of thought
less striking than his development of the dramatic art—as far
as the liberation of human thought is concerned it was more
important. ZEschylus, as we have seen, attributed the misfortunes
of mortals to a judicial blindness, the consequence of previous
guilt whereby a man falls into greater sin and supreme destruc
tion. His teaching is the teaching of Eliphaz the Temanite ;
* Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished being innocent ? or
when were the righteous cut off?” (Job iv. 7.) Sophokles dis
tinguished between the guilty blindness and involuntary crime.
With regard to the former he held the same position as did
ZEschylus. When a mortal willingly, and with full intent, com
mits a crime, the Deity punishes him with moral madness ; he
is delivered over to Alastor. Yet for all the actions committed
in this madness, he, and none other, is responsible. It is so with
Ajax. He deliberately rejects the aid of Athene, and falls into
a madness from which there is no escape. It is so with Kreon.
�Sophokles.
30
He designedly neglects the honour due to the gods below, and
pursues a course which is the result of madness. The chorus
recognise the chastisement of a divine hand when -ne.y speak
Kreon as—
ayfjp ettiirppov c/,a ytipoc
<■ idspiQ enrEiv, ovic aXXoTplav
li-ry aXX avrOQ anaorcov.
and he himse acknowledges it (1272),
paQibv cdXacoc. ev 3’ ejjm
Kapa
Oeoq tot apa tote piya fodpoc p
£7raicrEr.
But from this frenzy, involuntary guilt is separated by a wide
interval. As Ajax is a striking instance of the one condition, so
CEdipus is of the other. The contrast between the two is sharp
and complete. CEdipus is presented to us as a righteous prince,
wise above the common standard of humanity, for he alone could
solve the riddle of the Sphinx—as god-fearing, for he never doubts
the oracles of the gods. When he hears of the death of his sup
posed father, Polybus, there is mingled with his first cry of
wonder a note of distress for the credit of the oracle.
(pEu' (p£i>, ri cfjT ay w yvvat., <tkotto~it6 tiq
Trjv HvdopayTtv EGTiav ((Ed. R. 966.)
The sins which he committed were all involuntary, and he
repeatedly asserts it.
TTEirovdor
egti
ra y spya pov
paXXoy 7/ CECpaKOTa.
Yet upon him descend the heaviest misfortunes. What is the
conception which Sophokles designs to express by this ? There
is n'o answer in the CEdipus Rex ; it is found in the CEdipus at
Kolonus. It is this answer withheld that so closely unites the
former and the latter dramas. In the latter, CEdipus comes
before us under the guidance and protection of the gods. They
have used him for their purpose, a divine one, an unknown and
mysterious one, but a just one ; and now, having drunk the cup
of sorrow to the dregs, he is their sacred and especial care. He
himself says (287)
77/cw yap tpoc ev'teI'ji'iq te Kai (bepivv
OV'fjO’lV aOTOlQ TO~l(TC)E.
And therefore his passage from life is gentle and kindly. He
is not, for God takes him. As his life has been beyond all others
wretched though morally guiltless, so his death has beyond all
others a fuller promise of happiness.
If we gather up the teaching of Sophokles upon this point, we
find —That the gods have a great progressive plan of the
�Sophokles.
31
Universe, which they carry out in spite of, or sometimes by
means of individual suffering. That every man who seeks to do
right is, notwithstanding his misfortunes, under their protection,
and will finally be rewarded according to his merit. That volun
tary guilt tends to worse, and lastly to ruin. This advance from
the religious position of JUschylus is great, but it leads to results
no less important. It leads, firstly, to the possibility of making
a consciousness of right and justice an acting moral power. Thus
CEdipus sets before his daughters (Gild. K. 1613) as a recompense
for their laboursand sufferings on his behalf, the consciousness
that they had done their duty and won his love. Elektra and
Antigone are penetrated with this feeling. Elektra says (352)
“ Be it my only reward that 1 am conscious of doing my hard
duty?’ The sentiment of Antigone is the same (460) :
“ That I shall die I know without thy words,
And if before my time ’tis gain to me.”
This teaching of Sophokles is a herald of the truth declared
by Plato, that the moral consciousness of right in a man’s own
heart is the measure of his happiness.
Secondly, and here we must touch upon the mystic side of the
religion of Sophokles, it imbues his dramas with a lofty spiritual
ism. It stands in opposition to the religion of rite and profession.
It calls for the spirit and not the letter. CEdipus (CEd. K. 498)
declares that the sacrifice of one pure soul rightly offered, avails
more than ten thousand which are not so given. It adds a sig
nificance to the sincere unspoken prayer, for the god hears it
before it is said. Klytemnestra will not utter her prayer (El. 637)
for the god knows her desire, though she may not put it into
words. And the voice of the god speaks within the breast of
man to guide and direct him. This inward voice brought
CEdipus to the grove of the Eumenides, as he himself says (CEd.
K. 96) and led him—adtKrov riyprripo^—to his last restingplace.
°
And thirdly, it finds a place in the religion of Sophokles for
the doctrine of the immortality of the soul.
This doctrine was only dimly present to the popular mind ; it
was no active moral power. The motive to justice and righteous
ness lay in the fear of punishment in this life—of punishment at
the hands of the civil magistrate or the offended deity. True, in
Hades the unholy were unholy still, and suffered a shadowy
retribution for their crimes, but the real punishment was in this
life. Sophokles recognised a purer motive for human action, the
love of right for its own sake, and for the sake of the divine
approval. Antigone can look forward to a long and joyous
Existence with the dead (Ant. 73-76), for with them she will
*
�32
Sophokles.
dwell for ever. And so the highest duty is the duty of living
in accordance with the will of the gods, careless of praise or blame,
reward or punishment, from any but Their hands, and with eyes
directed to that other life, where wrongs are righted and where
j ustice is done.
ETTEl TtXeI(i)V XPOVOQ,
ov c?t p apEffKELV toIq Kara tojv oEvdai>E,
ekei yap asi KEi.trop.ai.
The monologue of Ajax sets this point of view rstill farther in
contrast with that of fiEschylus. 2Eschylus has exemplified the
terrors of conscience with appalling power in the persons of
Klytemnestra and Orestes, but the passion which he represents
is rather that of remorse than that of penitence. The fear of
punishment is the moving cause of terror. In the ethics of
Sophokles, conscience leads to a penitent recognition of personal
guilt and a desire of amendment—
ypsle ce irait; ov yvcvaopsaOa triotppovsiv;
is the cry of Ajax when he seeks to atone for his crimes by a
voluntary death. And the same moral revolution is exhibited
in the case of Kreon. (Ant. 1319.)
Thus in the hands of Sophokles, religion passed from a nega
tive to a positive phase. It was no longer sufficient as in the
time of AEschylus to live a quiet life with no overweening self
exaltation or insolent rivalry of the gods, but heart and hand
must be alike pure, and both devoted to the service of the gods.
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, in his essay upon the “ Education
of Humanity,” has traced the process by which a single nation
rose stage by stage to fuller knowledge. The nation which he
selected was the Hebrew nation, but it is not the only one which
submitted to the divine education. In the works of Sophokles
we see the Greek mind passing to a higher stage. It is not a
final stage ; that can never be reached as long as humanity
endures, but it is one that could give strength and confidence to
minds that loved the truth. That it did so to the mind of
Sophokles himself we may learn from his works. The per
fection of restraint and repose which reigns like a summer
atmosphere in his compositions, is the result not only of a mastery
of diction and a supreme command of art. The knowledge of
the sorrows of humanity and a co-existing capacity of beholding
above alia ruling order, which recompenses and atones for all,
are the characteristics which give an immortal interest to the
dramas of Sophokles.
They reveal to us a man who was
indeed OeoQiXpq “ beloved of God.”
And however dimly his contemporaries may have understood
the humane theology which pervaded his works, they understood
�Sophokles.
33
time of his death the Lacedaemonians were threatening Athens
from Deceleia. The family burial-place of Sophokles lay eleven
stades from Athens, upon the road to Deceleia. When Lysander
the Spartan heard that Sophokles was dead, he granted a free
pass to the funeral procession, and the body of the great
tragedian was laid to rest under the protection of the Lacedae
monians. Nor were there wanting due tokens of respect at the
hands of his fellow-citizens. As a hero they honoured him with
a' yearly sacrifice. A siren was sculptured upon his tomb, to
indicate the entrancing sweetness of his strains, and Simmias the
pupil of Sokrates wrote his epitaph. Forty years after his
death, his bust was placed in the Athenian theatre, and the state
took in charge the text of his works.
And yet against the life of Sophokles there are those who
bring the charge of impurity and immorality. Such a charge
we can but dismiss with indignation. A few anecdotes retailed
*
by that prurient collector of slander, Atheneeus, form the body
of the charge. They are not worth the time that would be spent
in contradicting them. There is nothing in Plato, there is nothing
in Plutarch that can sully the pure lustre of the name of
Sophokles. Plutarch indeed relates (Perikles, viii.) that upon
one occasion Perikles bade Sophokles remember that a man
must not only keep his hands pure, but his eyes from beholding
evil. If there is in this anything more than a commonplace
application of a moral maxim, it is a testimony that at least the
hands of the poet were pure. Of his thoughts as mirrored in
his writings we can ourselves judge. Aristophanes amidst all
his baseless attacks upon his contemporaries, never brought this
charge against Sophokles; modern writers with less knowledge,
have had greater audacity. This, however, matters but little to
him or to us.
In looking back upon the life of Sophokles as a whole, perfect
and radiant, it is difficult to find in the range of literature another
like it. From his boyhood to his death, there seems to be
nothing to mar the beauty of his career. Germans find an
analogous instance in the life of Gothe, but the analogy does not
go far. Both Sophokles and Gothe lived long, and won that
favour from their countrymen which is generally given to the
illustrious dead alone. Each of them possessed the highest
culture of his time, and aided the diffusion of that culture. The
comparison cannot in reality go much farther. The life of Gothe
is open to us in its minutest details : we are compelled to be
satisfied with the merest outline of the life of Sophokles.
Gothe has dissected for us (not without vanity) his own
sentiments, emotions, and passions. Only behind the works of
Sophokles can we discern the calm and majestic figure of the
[Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.]—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I.
D
�34
Sophokles.
Greek poet. Yet the dimmer personality is not the less
impressive. To something of the calm which belongs to the
works of Sophokles, Gotbe could, and did attain ; but it is the
same with a difference. Gothe by a sublime selfishness, and his
progress marked with the sorrows which he caused, rose into a
clear intellectual ether. Sophokles brought down the wisdom of
another sphere to brighten the ways of men. The one was a
child of earth who made a path for himself to the serene heights ;
the other was a son of Olympus, about whom the inextinguish
able glory of his birthplace shone for the delight and instruction
of the world.
P.S.—Two editions of Sophokles, at present only published in
part, will go some way towards familiarizing English students with
the spirit of Sophokles. The one is by Mr. Jebb, Public Orator of
Cambridge, the other is by Professor Campbell of St. Andrews.
As a portion only of each edition is before the public, it has
been deemed better to exclude them from comment in the body
of this paper, but this much may be said, that we can hope every
thing from the complete edition by Professor Campbell. His
essay on “ the Language of Sophokles ” is admirable and
exhaustive, and the notes and introductions to the plays already
published are full of refined and suggestive enthusiasm.
Mr. Jebb has set forth his views upon the genius of Sophokles
in a lecture recently delivered at Dublin, and since published in
Macmillan’s Magazine (Nov. 1872). This lecture is clear,
scholarly, and critical, but both the points selected and the views
expressed seem scarcely adequate to the subject. The four
manifestations of the genius of Sophokles 'which he chooses are :
First, the blending of a divine with a human characteristic in the
heroes of Sophokles. Secondly, the effort to reconcile progress
with tradition. Thirdly, dramatic irony ; and lastly, the por
trayal of character. The first of these manifestations is illustrated
by the cases of Ajax, of GEdipus, and of Herakles. Ajax, we are
told, is human by his natural anguish on his return to sanity; he is
divine by his remorse and the sense that dishonour must be effaced
by death. But surely his remorse and repentance are human
too. His mere cries of distress, apart from the higher feelings, are
ludicrous, and insufficient to link Ajax to human nature. Nor
does his nearness to Athene, as one who had spoken with her
face to face, suffice to give him a divine character. The heroes of
Euripides also speak with the gods face to face. The lecturer has
not here brought out a real manifestation of the genius of
Sophokles; he has united accidents and imagined them to be
the essence. The intense suffering of (Edipus the King, and the
marvellous death of GEdipus at Colonus are two conditions
�Sophokles.
35
through which the character of CEdipus passes, and are not
more especially characteristic than are the sufferings of Medea,
who is finally carried away by the dragon-chariot of the sun.
The genius of Sophokles is certainly not revealed in the union of
the superhuman and the commonplace; it is manifested by its
power of idealizing humanity. The superhuman element which
Sophokles introduces, forms no part of the essence of any
character, it belongs to the cycle of popular beliefs, which as we
have seen, he used for the purpose of verisimilitude.
Secondly.—The idea that Sophokles preserved the balance
between superstition and free thought, that he endeavoured to
graft progress upon tradition is misleading. In religious matters
we have seen that the advance which he made was both definite
and important; in politics he was the disciple, as he was the
colleague, of Perikles. If he shrank from the extreme measures
of a later democracy, it was because he clung to a system which
had raised Athens to her highest political efficiency, and because
he distrusted a variation which exaggerated and distorted the true
democratic principles. Moreover, he was justified by the results.
Thirdly.—The lecturer’s canon upon dramatic irony is only
partially true. “ The practical irony of drama depends on the
principle that the dramatic poet stands aloof from the world
which he has created.” In fact the question of dramatic irony
cannot be so summarily dealt with. The manner of Professor
Campbell in treating of this characteristic (pp. 112-118) is far
more diffident and satisfactory. Irony, as he says, is always
accompanied with the consciousness of superiority. But the
exhibition of this consciousness must be destructive of artistic
effect. It is better to refer the irony to fate than to ascribe it to
the author; it may, perhaps, be best not to use the word at all,
but to refer the effect which every one feels, to an artistic and
legitimate application of dramatic elements such as contrast and
pathos, which reach their highest power only when used by the
most skilful hands. .Mr. Jebb thinks that Sophokles delineates
broadly, and with a “ deliberate avoidance of fine shading,” the
characters of his primary persons, and seeks for the more delicate
touches of portraiture in the subordinate persons. The persons,
however, to whom he refers as illustrations must be spoken of as
secondary with caution. Thus Deianeira is of equal importance
with Hercules in the Trachinice; the same protagonist took
both characters. The real interest of the Philoldetes centres in
Neoptolemus. But perhaps the chief inadequacy of Mr. Jebb’s
view of Sophokles, a view which, as has been said before, is set
forth with the charm of a scholarly and balanced style, results from
his notion of the religion of Sophokles. In his opinion, Sophokles
is the highest type of a votary of Greek polytheism, and no more.
D2
�36
Parliamentary Eloquence.
He does not see in his hand that torch which was to be passed
on to Plato, and through him to other times. His religion had,
he says, shed upon it the greatest strength of intellectual light
which it could bear without fading. His art was indeed the
highest of its kind, and remained his own ; but the impulse which
he gave to a freer and more enlightened reverence may be traced
in the best of Greek literature, the works of Plato. It is
probable, therefore, that the edition by Professor Campbell will
be a truer guide to the appreciation of Sophokles, for the editor
has already acknowledged his obligation to Professor Jowett.
Art. II.—Parliamentary Eloquence.
1. A Book of Parliamentary Anecdote. Compiled from
Authentic Sources. By G. H. Jennings and W. S. John
stone.
Cassell, Petter, and Galpin : London, Paris, and
New York. 1872.
2. The Orator : a Treasury of English Eloquence, containing
Selections from the most Celebrated Speeches of the Past
and Present. Edited, with Short Explanatory Notes and
References, by a Barrister. London : S. 0. Beeton.
3. Select British Eloquence, embracing the best Speeches entire
of the most Eminent Orators of Great Britain for the last
Two Centuries : with Sketches of their Lives, an estimate
of their Genius, and Notes Critical and Explanatory.
By Chauncey A. Goodrich, D.D., Professor in Yale Col
lege, New Haven, Conn., U.S. London : Sampson Low
and Co.
4. Parliamentary Logic : to which are subjoined Two Speeches
delivered in the House of Commons of Ireland, and
other pieces. By the Right Hon. William Gerard
Hamilton. London. 1798.
5. Hansard. New Series.
ANY have been the writers on the theory of Government,
and the framers of model governments and paper constitu
tions. None of these, however, devised Parliamentary Govern
ment as it actually exists amongst us, or foresaw its rise. Yet to
all appearances it is the form of government which will
universally prevail. The English tongue bids fair to become
the speech of the greater part of the globe, and wherever an
English-speaking race is to be found, English parliamentary
M
�
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 36 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: From The Westminster and Foreign Quarterly Review, January 1, 1873. Includes bibliography (p.1). From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Author attribution: The Wellesley Index to Victorian Periodicals 1824-1900.
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THE PHILOSOPHY OF “GETTING RELIGION.”
TTIRST in order, let us ascertain what is meant by the phrase, “getting religion.” All will concede that.it is not a Scriptural phrase,
but the term religion is. Etymologically, the word religion means, to re
bind, to bind again. If the term be applied to persons, this meaning
suggests several ideas : i. A person to be bound again ; 2. A person
to whom he shall be bound again; 3. That the person to be bound has
been loosed; 4. A bond. If we consider this word historically and
theologically, all these thoughts find in it an authorized symbol.
Under this view of the term, to say that a man “gets religion,” con
veys no definite conception. If then, we would arrive at the current
meaning of the phrase, we must consult the usus loquendi—the usual
mode of speaking, past or present. Inasmuch as words and phrases
are the signs of ideas, and! because neither this phrase nor its
synonym was used in apostolic times, we have evidence, prima facie,
that the idea.3is of post-apostolic origin. Hence, on theological
grounds, our jealousy of it may be justified.
The usus loquendi, then and now, assigns to the word religion a
meaning which Webster thus expresses: “ Theology, as a system of
doctrines or principles, as well as practical piety; a system of faith
and worship.” The proper reception of the Christian doctrine, as a
rule of life, binds a man to God in covenant relationship. The term,
therefore, ordinarily relates to the system which a man receives under
the idea of a bond. This is one of the thoughts growing out of the
etymology of the term. But usage has made this the paramount idea.
Can it be, then, that to “get religion” is to possess one’s self with
the Christian system of truth? Surely not. Then there must be
some idea involved by the term, as phrased, different both from its
etymological and ordinary sense.
It is certain that this phrase is eminently peculiar to the litera
ture of a special class of religionists; particularly those who adopt
�2
The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
the “anxious-seat” as an instrumentality to facilitate conversion.
They evidently mean, by the phrase, a subjective or psychological
experience—a sudden revulsion of the emotions from a more or less
profound depression, through conviction of sin and fear of its conse
quences, to a high state of exultation and joy, on account of pardon.
It must not be supposed that a psychological experience is peculiar
to this class, although some, under the influence of this system, have
denounced others as “ head religionists;” for we must believe that
every one who becomes reconciled to God has an experience pecu
liarly his own. But from the fact that, under this system, this ex
perience is sought for by peculiar methods as the direct gift of the
Holy Spirit, and as having a priceless value as the evidence of par
don, it becomes the paramount object of the sinner’s seeking. And
as this revulsion, by a singular use of the word, is called religion,
naturally enough the obtainment of it is called “getting religion.”
With others, the objective point is not “getting religion,” but getting
themselves into' harmony with religion, or the Christian system,
knowing that if they can effect this, their emotions will take care of
themselves. Hence, they do not need to coin a new phrase to ex
press a new religious idea, but simply to use the Scriptural term,
reconciliation.
INFLUENCE OF THEORIES.
Every theory determines its own methods and inspires its own
literature. The literature of the theory now referred to, is character
ized by such expressions as “ experimental religion,” “ seed of grace,”
“grace of God in the heart,” “grace of faith,” “getting the power,”
“ getting through,” “ soundly converted,” “ hopefully converted,” “ I
feel to thank God,” “ I feel to do right,” “ I know that I am a child
of God, because I feel it.” The emotions are first, last, and all the
time. They become the standard of truth, as well as duty. And if,
under the law of affinities, the most abundant harvests of converts are
not gathered from the emotional classes, there would be occasion to
revise all our systems of mental philosophy.
Nor is it surprising that there should be a perplexing confusion
of Scriptural terms, in order to adjust them to a system whose central
thought places its advocates under the necessity of coining so many
unscriptural words and phrases, in order to furnish it a lingual habi
tation and a name. The terms conversion, regeneration, change of
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion:
3
heart, born again, are modified by the phrase “getting religion,” or
made its synonyms ; generally, the latter.
Were it not for the logical and theological connections of the idea
of “ getting religion,” we might tolerate it as a comparatively inoffen
sive affair. But just here we hesitate. It is affirmed that it is the
immediate—without means—direct work of the Holy Spirit; that
saving faith is an inspiration by the Holy Spirit, as the writer re
cently heard in a discourse by a prominent minister.
The necessity for this position is laid in a theory of the fall of
man—in .the doctrine of total native depravity, as the hereditament
from Adam of every human being; that this corruption of man’s na
ture is such, that “he can not turn and prepare himself, by his own
natural strength, to faith and calling upon God, . . . without the
grace of God, by Christ, preventing [anticipating] us, that we may
have a good will ” (see M. E. Discipline, Arts, vii, viii) ; that man
can not exercisesaving faith when he hears the Gospel, because of
natural inability inherited; that the Holy Spirit must directly im
part the power.
Hence, a distinguished writer in the Methodist
Quarterly, of A. D. 1869, page 266, says, “The method of Meth
odism is inspiration, in distinction from
The'larger Catechism (questions and answers 25, 26, 27, and 67,)
avows the same doctrine of original sin, with the necessity for Spirit
impact, in order to predetermine man’s will to the exercise of saving
faith. In accordance with which, Dr. Rice, in Debate with Alexander
Campbell, page 672, says: “ Every thing has its nature. The lion,
however young, has its nature. . # . Plant two trees in the same
soil, and let them be watered by the same stream, and one will
produce sweet fruit and the other bitter. They possess different na
tures.” From these comparisons, we learn that man’s nature since
the fall differs from his nature before the fall, as a lion’s from a lamb’s
nature, or as the nature of a peach-tree from that of a crab-apple
tree. But man’s nature before the fall was created by God, and was
a human nature. He fails to tell who created his second nature, and
of what kind it is. Its creator must have been God, man, or the
devil. If God, then every creature of God is not good. If the devil,
then one thing was made without the Word. If man, then why can
he not new-create himself? That Dr. Rice understands his stand
ards to teach that God’s original creative power is exerted in regen
eration, is clear from page 635 : “Now, if God could originally create
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The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion?
man holy without words and arguments, who shall presume to assert
that he can not. create him anew, and restore his lost image ?” This
he said, in order to show the possibility of infant moral regeneration,
which, but for the logical demands of a theory, no one need attempt
to prove, since the Savior has said, “ Of such is the kingdom of
heaven.” When Mr. Campbell charged that Dr. Rice’s theory made
every conversion a miracle, he was met by an emphatic denial. But
the logic of a system will sometimes crop out through advocates who
are not constrained by controversial considerations. Hence, in his
■ Early Years of Christianity,” page 24, Dr. E. Pressense declares
that the Church, “born of a miracle,' by a miracle lives. Founded
upon the great miracle of redemption, it grows and is perpetuated by
the ever-repeated miracle of conversion.”
We would not be understood as disparaging the terms conversion,
regeneration, born again, change of heart, being healed, new creation,
in their Scriptural usage; nor the eminently Scriptural idea that the
Holy Spirit is the efficient agent in regeneration; but we do most
courageously object to any theory which requires such a set of
exegetical laws as makes these beautiful figures mutually destructive,
and arrays them all against every man’s consciousness and the analogy
of faith. For example, if the sinner is dead, in the strained sense
put upon this figure, how can he, under another figure, be diseased
and capable of cure ? If he must be created anew, according to and
in the manner this theory demands, how can he be born again ?,
RATIONAL VIEW.
That a revulsion of the emotions, called “getting religion,” does
occur, as is claimed, the writer sincerely believes. It is not a ques
tion of fact, but of the explanation of the fact. Those who question
the fact, speak unwisely; for this would be to assume that many of
the most estimable men are guilty of hypocrisy and downright false
hood—the only effect of which would be to shut the ear against
reason, to turn the edge of argument before whetting, to clothe the
claimants with a coat of mail more impenetrable than Greek or Ro
man warrior ever wore. If this revulsion is the effect of an imme
diate impact of the Holy Spirit, then we must concede all its logical
and theological antecedents and consequents. If it can be accounted
for without transcending the bounds of natural causes and natural
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
5
laws, then the opponent must cease to demand for the fact a solely
supernatural explanation, or stand self-convicted of fanaticism.
Let no one deny our right to deal with this subject philosophic
ally ; for Rev. C. G. Finney, late President of Oberlin College, has
defended it upon philosophic grounds. He, more than any other
man, perhaps, was instrumental in promoting the great revivals which
swept the country forty years ago. His staid, quondam Presbyterian
brethren objected to certain “ new measures ” used by him to promote
revivals; one of which was the anxious-seat. In his “ Revival Lec
tures,” page 253, he replies: “Of late, this measure has met with
more opposition than any of the others. What is the great objec
tion ? I can not see it. The design of the anxious-seat is undoubt
edly philosophical, and according to the laws of mind'.'
Singular how extremes meet. Mr. Finney swung off to an oppo
site extreme from the prevailing theories of conversion, and adopted
the anxious-seat as a measure to facilitate conversion, because its
design is philosophical, and in accordance with the laws of mind, while
others held on to the old theories, and adopted it for the same
purpose, disclaiming its design. Whgr^ consistency lies, the reader
must pronounce. Chide us not, then,, nor complain, if we at
tempt to ascertain these laws of mind, or the philosophy of “getting
religion.”
Let us look in upon a revival scene, The . sermon culminates in
an impassioned, rhetorical descpption of the sinfulness of sin, the
terrors of judgment. The peroration flames and fumes with fire and
brimstone. As the writer once heard, “ Hell is uncapped, and the
wails of the damned salute the sinnerjs earhe “ is hair-hung and
breeze-shaken over the gulf of damnation.” The imaginative, no less
than the moral, emotions are wrought up to a fearful pitch. The cry
is heard, “What must we do ?”“ Come to the anxious-seat, and the
Lord’s people will pray for you. and. the Lord will speak peace to
your souls.” They come. Preacher and people wait on them to in
struct, admonish, exhort, or entreat,jMpeach case may require, or as
the psychological condition of each may. seem to demand. “ How do
you feel ?” If the sense of guilt does not seem deep enough, the
effort is to “ break him down, so that he can neither stand nor go
or, in other words, to depress the emotions to the lowest possible
point. This done, the effort begins to “ get him through,” or to se
cure a rebound of the emotions. For this purpose, the power of
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The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
payer and song and encouraging exhortation is called into requisiton- The penitent is addressed thus : “ Do you not believe that God
is able to save you ?” “ Is he not willing ?” “ Heaven, with all its
glories, is yours, if you will only surrender your heart to the Lord.”
“ If you will only give up all your sins; if you will only believe,
the Lord will receive you, and give you the evidence of accept
ance.” “ Ask, and you shall receive.” “ Seek, and you shall find.”
He repents, and prays, and weeps, and mourns. He asks, but
does not receive. A flash comes over him ; but it is a flash of
withering skepticism. “ Surely,” he thinks, “ if what I am told is
true, I would obtain the blessing so long and earnestly sought for.”
Some one by his side, who came long since he did, rises with a glow
ing halleluiah upon his lips. This only perplexes him the more. He,
after along struggle, is still unblessed, while the joyful convert by his
side has received the blessing after a very short struggle. The thought
steals upon his mind, “ Surely, God must be a respecter of persons ;
but if he is, the Bible is false, for it says the contrary.” Discour
aged, disheartened, and perplexed beyond measure, he sinks into
a skeptical stolidity. His friends note it. They come about him with
increased solicitude and intensified prayerfulness. One says to him:
“ This is a device of Satan to ruin you, when you were just escaping
from his power;” “Don’t give way to your doubts.” “I was just
so, says another ; “ I had a long struggle and a hard one to get relig
ion, but I finally succeeded, and I was so happy.” “ Pray on, brother ;
we will pray for you, that you may yet prevail.” “ If you will only
believe, God will speak peace to your soul.” “ Pray to the Lord to
give you faith ; to give you the victory over Satan.” His doubts
overcome, at least quieted, by the confidence he has in those who re
late their experiences, and encouraged by their earnest exhortations,
he plunges again into the struggle. Special attention is now given
him, as a brand that must be plucked from the burning. He and
others are animated for the struggle with the idea that it is a hand-tohand conflict with Satan, who is striving, with more than usual per
sistency, to keep this soul under his dominion. Victory over an
opposing foe is always sweet. Prayers go up, earnest, sincere, tearful,
agonizing prayers. Songs are inspired with the hope of impending
victory. Heaven is addressed: “Lord, send down the power.” “Come
down, and convert this poor sinner.” “ Drive back Satan to his own
native hell, and give this soul release.” “ Lord, baptize him with the
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
7
Holy Spirit and fire.” “ Lord, pour light into this darkened soul.”
Meantime, the penitent is exhorted: “Now give up all to Christ.”
“Hold back nothing.” “Turn away from all your sins.” “Ask,
and you shall receive.” “Now, don’t you believe?” “Just believe
that you have the blessing, and you have it.” “Just believe that
God has pardoned you, and you are pardoned.” “Just rise up, and
shout glory to God, and it will be all right; you will feel happy.”
“ Open your mouth, and the Lord will put a new song into it.”
Then the altar resounds with the chorus:
“O believe him, O believe him,
O believe him, just now.
He will save you, he will save you,
He will save you, just now !”
A heavenly smile begins to chase away the sadness which has hung
like a pall over the penitent’s countenance. Before he has had time
to express a word, a score of happy voices lift the choral halleluiah,
in which he joins with his shouts of joy. “His was a mighty work
of grace.” “The Lord was merciful.” His conversion becomes the
theme of sermon and song, to incite others to seek religion.
How fortunate for the poor penitent, when he was on the verge
of infidelity, that his reasoning process was cut short and his judg
ment overborne by the solicitude of friends! Otherwise he might
have deepened skepticism into confirmed infidelity, with the contra
dictions and inconsistencies of the system. The preacher had told
him that the unregenerate can not exercise saving faith, without the
enabling power of the Holy Spirit; yet all the while he was exhorted
to believe—to believe just now. What ? That Jesus is the Son of
God ? No. He believed that already. Believe that he was a sinner ?
No. What then? Why, “just believe that you are pardoned, and
you are pardoned.” Or, otherwise, a man must believe in order to
be pardoned; still he can not, being unregenerate. Then, he is par
doned if he believes so. Then, of course, believing that he is par
doned, he will be happy, has the desired revulsion of the emotions,
or has “gotten religion.” Then, his feelings become the evidence of
pardon ; or he believes he is pardoned before he has the evidence, in
order to obtain the evidence. But did he believe without evidence
entirely ? Surely not; for that is impossible. His faith must have
rested upon the testimony of his advisers, or it was nothing but
imagination, or both combined. Of the power of the imagination,
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The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
hear what Professor Haven, of Amherst, says in his “ Mental Philos
ophy,” page 153. This is a standard text-book in many of our insti
tutions of learning:
“ Errors of Imagination.—Undoubtedly there are errors, mistakes, prejudices,
illusions of the imagination ; mistakes in judgment, in reasoning, in the affairs of
practical life, the source of which is to be found in some undue influence, some
wrong use of the imagination. We mistake its conceptions for realities. We
dwell upon its pleasing visions till we forget the sober face of truth. We fancy
pleasures, benefits, results, which will never be realized, or we look upon the dark
and dreary side of things, till all nature wears the somber hue of our disordered
fancy.”
It would seem that Professor Haven must have had his eye upon
the anxious-seat when he penned this paragraph.
While presenting the foregoing description of anxious-seat
conversion, the thought occurred to the writer that he might be
charged with an attempted caricature; for, he is free to confess that,
if he had not carefully noted the facts, it would be difficult to regard
it as a representation of sober reality. But those who have frequented
such scenes, will confess that he might have colored the picture even
more highly, without violence to truth. He is not conscious of “ hav
ing set down aught in malice.”
With this procedure before us, we propose to deduce those mental
and emotional laws which should be recognized in this process of
“getting religion,” and under the operation of which it is believed
the fact may be rationally explained. In order to appreciate this
psychological experience in its varied manifestations, it must be pre
mised that the intensity of emotional activity depends largely upon the
strength and development of the moral sense and the imagination;
that the intensity of emotional activity, caused under the influence
of the imagination, is ordinarily greater than that produced under the
influence of the moral sense. But if both the imagination and the
moral sense are involved, as is generally, if not always, the case in
religious excitements, we may expect an intensity of emotional ac
tivity correspondent to the united strength and development of both
these faculties, only modified by the degree of precision and force
with which the objects producing the excitement are presented to the
mind, and also the nature of the objects; for, if the objects be such
as are not trivial, but directly connected with our highest interests
for time and eternity, they would naturally command our most ear
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
9
nest solicitude. Hence, we would most confidently expect, what is a
notorious fact, that the results of revivals, conducted according to the
anxious-seat method, should depend largely upon the rhetorical and
emotional power of the minister. If he be a man of warm, impulsive
nature, with a vivid imagination and good pulpit address, so that he
can clothe his transcendently important themes with the chameleon
changes of the sublime and the sorrowful, the terrific and the beau
tiful, the awful, grand, or pitiful; if he can touch, every note in the
diapason of human feeling, with the exquisiteness and the dash of a
well-skilled orchestra,—then we may readily believe that great results
will be achieved. Hence, in our time, an evangelist is regarded as
little else than an expert revivalist. Let no one think, because the
writer speaks thus, that he is opposed to revivals. Far from it. If
procured and conducted in accordance with the Word of God, they
are great instrumentalities for good. But it is the abuse of them, by
pressing them into the service of a human system, that has well-nigh
turned the world against them.
MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL LAWS.
I. We most readily imagine or believe that which is in accordance
with our desires.
II. The facility of faith is variable in different persons, on account
of constitutional peculiarities, and in the same person at different
times, on account of associations, personal habits, or other causes.
III. Confidence in the veracious character of witnesses predisposes
the mind to faith in their testimony.
IV. Imagination and faith exercise a controlling power over the
emotions. We feel as we imagine or believe.
V. The imagination or belief of a falsehood affects the emotions
in precisely the same manner and to the same degree as the truth
upon any given subject, provided the falsehood appears to be truth.
VI. If the emotions be borne out of their normal condition to any
extreme of intense activity, nature demands a revulsion, or a gradual
subsidence, at the peril of insanity.
VII. Generally, if the emotions be intensely excited under the
influence of the imagination or moral sense, or both combined,
bodily agitations will appear, particularly in persons of a nervous
temperament.
VIII. Generally, emotional excitement is contagious.
�1°
The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
These laws of mental and emotional activity are not submitted
as applicable only to religious revivals, but to mental and emotional
activity under all circumstances. Without undertaking to prove or
illustrate them, which would be a pleasant pastime, if space allowed,
the writer appeals to the consciousness of every reader for their jus
tification, confident, also, that the observation of every man will afford
an abundance of facts from every-day life to fully illustrate them.
APPLICATION OF THE ABOVE LAWS.
Let us recur to the penitent whom we left, a little while since,
filled with the new-born joy of “getting religion,” that we may trace
his psychological experience, to ascertain whether or not it was gov
erned and explainable by these laws.
Why were his emotions so depressed, even to the very verge of
an anguishing despair, till he could say, “ The pains of hell get hold
on me?” Was it because of an immediate impact of the Holy Spirit
upon his spirit? Or, was it because he believed himself to be a sin
ner, exposed to the wrath of God ? Because he saw, through faith in
the Word of God, a hell yawning to receive him, and his imagination
pictured the woefulness of its torments to his mind. Because he had
begun to realize that he deserved it all, for sinning so long against a
Holy God, whose matchless love, in the death of Christ, he had so
long despised. Because, too, not only his own faith and imagina
tion had shown him these things, but the faith and imagination of
preacher and people had assisted his own vision. His faith and
imagination being intensely active, his emotions were agonizingly
depressed. (See Law IV.)
But, says the objector, if the Spirit of God had not been striving
with him, he would not have felt this deep conviction. Grant it. But
did the Spirit strive, by direct impact, or through intervening instru
mentalities, in accordance with the laws of our mental and moral con
stitution ? This is the point. If in the former manner, then his
conviction had no moral character, for he must have been without
will in the matter. If in the latter manner, then his own agency was
involved; and conversion is not a miracle, but to be effected in a
rational way, although none the less by a supernatural, efficient cause.
Why did the penitent’s feelings rebound so suddenly? and why
did they not rebound sooner? For, perhaps, he had been “seeking
religion” for weeks—may be months. In favor of this revulsion several
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!1
11
principles conspired: I. He earnestly desired and sought for the par
don of his sins. (See Law I.) 2. He had confidence in his religious
advisers, who testified that God would pardon him, and gave their
own experience in proof. (See Law III.) 3. Nature demands a re
bound of the emotions when borne away to a given extreme. (See
Law VI.) 4. Many around him were happy, having recently “gotten
religionothers were happy in the demonstrative joy of the new
converts, and in the faith of their own salvation. (See Law VIII.)
Why, then, should he not find the object of his seeking sooner ? His
faith and imagination combined to depress his emotions; why did
they not, under these seemingly favorable circumstances, combine to
exalt them to the acme of peace and joy? Here is the puzzle, if con
version, or “getting religion,” is an effect of the direct, immediate
operation of the Holy Spirit. Does not the Holy Spirit aim at and de
sire every sinner’s conversion ? Had not many already been converted,
who came to the anxious-seat long since this penitent came ? Why,
then, is he not converted sooner ? Perhaps this explanation may avail
us: The Word of God testifies plainly against sin, showing us also its
sinfulness and its punishment; also, of the love of God, and the death
of Jesus for the sinner. The Holy Spirit had laid a broad foundation
for the penitent’s faith in regard to his lost condition without Christ.
That same Word had deigned to assist his imagination by such rep
resentations of the fearful consequences of sin as were calculated to
give activity to his imagination. We can readily understand how he
was “pricked to the heart;” how he was prostrated under a sense of
guilt and fearful apprehension. But in vain does the poor man search
the Word of God for a promise of pardon connected with the anxiousseat. In vain does he search the Divine record for an example of
conversion according to this method. The broad foundation where
he rested his faith for conviction, is now wanting. He is dependent
upon the testimony of men, that God will forgive his sins in this
way. The fact that, in giving his experience, he may rest his faith
upon some promise contained in the Scriptures, does not change the
fact that the testimony of men is the real basis of his faith; for, if
there is no promise of God connected with the anxious-seat, or if
this method of conversion is unscriptural, then, of course, all promises
construed with it are misapplied, and therefore cease to be the testi
mony of God, and become simply the testimony of men,—just as the
Scripture quoted by Satan, when tempting the Savior, ceased to be
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The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
the Word of God, and, as then applied, became simply a positive
falsehood. Perhaps the convert was like Thomas, constitutionally
incredulous; not inclined to believe, ordinarily, without palpable evi
dence. Perhaps he may have become slow to believe the testimony
of men, because his confidence had been violently shattered or weak
ened by human treachery and deception. Perhaps his own personal
habits may have replaced a confiding disposition. (See Law II.) If
any or all these things were true of him, it is easily explained why
he did not “ get religion ” sooner. Still, the very fact that he “ got
religion” at all, indicates a preponderance of the favorable influences
over the adverse. Now, the revulsion being at last secured, perhaps
under a tremendous pressure of the imagination, combined with
what strength of faith he was able to command, may be carried up to
the most intense emotional excitement, producing bodily agitations
of the most astonishing violence; or, the physical powers sometimes
whelmed with the emotional flood, the man sinks into a semi-con
scious state, when he is said to be in a trance. (See Law VII.)
Then the mind is given up to the most delightful visions. This used
^to be regarded as evidence of an unusual display of the power of the
Holy Spirit.
Seeing that similar revolutions of the feelings, as well as bodily
agitations, sometimes take place where no one contends that the
Holy Spirit has any thing to do with them, suppose it should turn
out that the Holy Spirit has nothing to do with many of these sup
posed “ sound conversions that there is a clear non causa pro causa
committed,—then they would simply fall under and be explained by
Law V. The belief or imagination of a falsehood upon any given
subject will produce precisely the same emotional effect as the truth
upon that subject, if the falsehood be accepted as truth. When Jacob
saw the blood-stained coat of his son Joseph, he accepted it as evi
dence of his death. Doubtless his imagination painted fearful and
heart-rending pictures of his son’s fatal struggle with the wild beasts.
He believed a lie. Joseph was not dead. But would his sorrow have
been more pungent and agonizing if Joseph had actually been dead?
Then, what a revulsion in his emotions when he afterward believed
him to be alive, and next to the throne of Egypt! What a culmina
tion of his joy, when the aged patriarch fell upon Joseph’s neck and
kissed him, amid the splendors of his royal estate!
The pious Catholic goes to confessional with a heavy heart; con
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
:3
fessing his sins, he receives the declaration of absolution from the
priest, and departs a happy man. The pagan, too, distressed and
agonized by a sense of guilt, offers his atoning sacrifice, and then re
joices with a joy unspeakable. Men under delusion may believe a lie,
be happy, and yet be lost.
RESULTS OF THE SYSTEM.
The worst is not yet. According to Law VI, nature demands a
subsidence of excessive emotional excitement, whether the emotion
be pleasant or painful. The new convert naturally measures the evi
dence of his pardon by the nature and volume of his feelings. As
the volume of joy diminishes and temptations crowd upon him, he
begins to sing, in a doleful tone:
“ ’Tis a point I long to know—
Oft it causes anxious thought:
Do I love the Lord or no ?
Am I his, or am I not?”
'-
Sentiments about as unscriptural as the system which inspired them.
What wonder that these doubts have ended so often in an incor
rigible apostasy? The Methodist, one of the ablest papers of the
Methodist Episcopal Church, declares that eighty out of every hun
dred of their converts fall away. So unstable were they, that an
other human expedient must be devised, not only unscriptural, but
anti-scriptural and ruinous,—take them on six months' trial. Every
theory works out through its appropriate forms.
Another class are made infidels because they can not “get religion.”
Failing to distinguish between religion and its abuse, they, like Gib
bon, condemn it as a whole, because of their disgust with the abuse.
Another class are made hypocrites. Under the pressure of a
public commitment, by going to the anxious-seat, they feign. what
they do not feel, or studiously conceal what, if revealed, would forfeit
the good opinion of others. It is not averred, here, that there are
more hypocrites among those who believe in the anxious-seat than
among others, but that with a certain class there is a direct tendency
in the system to produce hypocrisy; while, under the simple Gospel,
if men are hypocrites, they must be so despite the system.
There is still another ipore pitiable class—those who, having been
long under conviction and fruitless agony, failing to find relief, and
concluding that they have committed the unpardonable sin, under
♦
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14
The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
the operation of Law VI, become hopelessly insane. Asylum records
will abundantly corroborate this statement:
Another fearful result is a wide-spread indifference to all religion.
Apostasy is the rule ; or those who remain steadfast are only as one
to five, according to the New York Methodist. The last state of the
apostate is, uniformly, worse than the first. It is always more diffi
cult to stir his religious consciousness. What, then, must be the
effect upon the eighty out of every hundred converts—to say nothing
of the indurating influence of so much apostasy upon the public
mind—but indifference to all religion ? Of course, apostasy may and
does occur under any system; but it is one thing to facilitate it by a
system, and quite another thing to have it occur against a system.
A CORRUPTION OF THE GOSPEL.
President Finney admits it. On page 254, after contending that
it is necessary to have a test for the sinner’s faith, he further says:
“The Church has always felt it necessary to have something of the kind to
answer this very purpose. In the days of the apostles, baptism answered this pur
pose. The Gospel was preached to the people, and then all those who were will
ing to be on the side of the Lord, were called on to be baptized. It held the
precise place that the anxious-seat does now, as a public manifestation of their
determination to be Christians.”
Baptism is confessedly a Divine command. Who authorized its
substitution, for any purpose, with the anxious-seat ? That is a small
matter, however, if it is only a “ mere form',' or if only “ something of
the kind" of the anxious-seat. In apostolic times “ the Gospel was
preached, and those who were willing to be on the side of the Lord,
were called on to be baptized!' Now they are called to the anxiousseat. “It held the precise place that the anxious-seat does now!'
Exactly. Hence a new Gospel. “ He that believeth and cometh to
the anxious-seat, shall be saved.” “ Repent and come to the anxiousseat, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission
of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.” “And he
commanded them to come to the anxious-seat, in the name of the Lord
Jesus Christ.” “Arise and come to the anxious-seat, and wash away
your sins, calling on the name of the Lord.” “ The like figure whereunto even the anxious-seat doth also now save us.” “ Know you not
that so many of you as have come to the. anxious-seat, have put on
Christ ?” Is this a perversion of the Gospel, or another gospel ? If
the anxious-seat occupies the place of baptism, of course it is a com
«
�The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion'.'
15
mand of God, and the promises which He attached to baptism, must
be attached to it; hence, baptism is pushed out of its place in the
plan of pardon. It becomes a mere “ Church ordinance,” to be
changed at pleasure, as to its form and uses. (See Bishop Gilbert’s
“Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles,” page 251.)
SANCTIFICATION,
Otherwise Perfectionism, is simply anxious-seat conversion in extenso. It is a subjective, or psychological experience, produced in the
same manner as “ getting religion,” and explainable by the same laws.
It is less frequently enjoyed, however, because the people generally
have less faith in the doctrine; hence, fewer persons attempt the
experiment.
THE WAY OUT OF CONFUSION.
“ Preach the Word.” Show the people their sins and their con
sequences. The love of God in Christ manifested. If they believe,
and are “pricked in the heart,” or become convicted of sin, and cry
out, “ What must we do ?” tell them, as of old, “ Repent and be bap
tized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for remission
of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” Do not
seek to work up the feelings by artificial means. Do not call into
play the pride of character by public commitment, before the heart is
ready. How often do we hear the preacher say, “ Now, if you wish to
go to heaven [who does not ?], rise up.” “ If you wish the prayers
of the Lord’s people [who does not ?], rise up.” “ Now, all who
have voted that they wish to go to heaven, that they desire the
prayers of the Lord’s people, come to the anxious-seat.” Ah, the
trick! the trick !! thinks many a person who has voted, and instantly
he is filled with disgust. People will endure, or even applaud, strategy ;
but not in religion.
Again: the religious sensibilities always shrink from public expo
sure, unless the will is won over. To have one’s incipient religious
experience displayed before the prurient gaze, or to be bandied
about by the gossiping tongue, is exceedingly repulsive to a person
whose sense of propriety is well developed. Many a sinner’s thoughts
have been drawn off in the attempted reconciliation of himself to this
unscriptural procedure, when they ought to have been engaged in the
work of reconciling himself to God. Let the struggle begin and go
�16
The Philosophy of “ Getting Religion!'
forward to a final issue without ostentation, then it will be time for
public commitment to Christianity. If the friendly counsel of proper
persons may be given quietly, to lead the soul out of its entangle
ments, and break its sinful alliances, it is well. Reason, propriety,
philosophy, and Scripture concur to demand this course.
If the subject is ignorant of Christ as the Savior, tell him first, as
Paul did the jailor, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you
shall be saved.” As soon as he expresses a willingness to receive
Christ, “speak to him the Word of the Lord,” for his enlightenment
as to the Lord’s means of salvation, and through repentance he will
soon find his way to baptism, and come again rejoicing through faith.
(See Acts,xvi.) If he be a believing penitent, like Saul at Damas
cus, tell him to “ arise and be baptized, and wash away his sins, calling
on the name of the Lord.” In short, give to each, according to his
condition, a portion of the Word suited to his case, in due season.
Never mind your theories ; speak the Word.
But, says the objector, must we rule out a psychological expe
rience ? Must we simply have a “head-religion,” without any heart
in it ? No ; by no means. Nor will there be the least danger, if we
cling to the apostolic methods. The revulsion of the emotions from
the pungency of conviction to the exhilaration of joy will always be
secured, if the sinner really believes that he is pardoned, although he
may believe a falsehood. (See Laws IV, V.) It matters not upon what
kind of testimony his faith may rest. If, then, he be led to a hearty,
intelligent submission to Christ, according to the Gospel plan, his
belief that he is pardoned will rest, not upon the testimony of men,
nor upon imagination, but upon the express promises of God, which
can never fail. The Pentecostan converts began to be glad as soon
as they learned from Peter that they could be saved. “ They gladly
received the Word,” and were baptized the same day. But they were
more joyful still, afterward, when they were able, through their faith
and obedience, to appropriate the Divine promises. Then “ they, con
tinuing daily, with one accord, in the temple, and breaking of bread
from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness
of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the people.”
�
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The philosophy of "getting religion"
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Hobbs, Alvin Ingels [1832-1900]
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Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Republished from Christian Quarterly. Attribution from Virginia Clark catalogue.
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Philosophy
Religion
Conway Tracts
Philosophy and Religion
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Ol® LIBERTY
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�CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Introductory
9
CHAPTER II.
Of the Liberty of Thought
and
Discussion
19
CHAPTER III.
Of Individuality, as one of the Elements of Well-being
46
CHAPTER IV.
Of
the Limits to the
Individual -
Authority of Society over the
- .
60
CHAPTER V.
Applications
74
A
�ON LIBERTY
BY
JOHN STUART MILL
[issued for
the rationalist press association, limited]
WATTS & CO.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1903
�The grand, leading principle, towards which every argument
unfolded in these pages directly converges, is the absolute and
essential importance of human development in its richest diversity.
—Wilhelm von Humboldt : Sphere and Duties of Government.
�JOHN STUART MILL
John Stuart Mill, philosopher, politi house of Jeremy Bentham; had contributed
cal economist, and reformer—described by to the Traveller • and had written to the
Mr. Gladstone as “the saint of Rationalism” Morning Chronicle letters of protest against
—was born in London on May 20th, 1806. the savage prosecutions for blasphemy
He died at Avignon on May Sth, 1873. which raged so fiercely round the heroic
The sixty-seven years of his life were filled figure of Richard Carlile during the stormy
with strenuous intellectual labour, and with years of reaction which followed Waterloo.
loyal and devoted service to the causes of Professor Bain tells us that when, in 1822,
goodness, humanity, and truth. If it may Mill visited Cambridge, “his immense con
be truly said that to labour is to worship, versational power ” made a deep impression
these were the shrines at which Mill on the undergraduates, notwithstanding
worshipped with a fervour that could not their familiarity with the copious verbal
be surpassed by the devotee of any super resources of Macaulay and Austin.
Mill soon stepped into the wider literary
natural religion.
Under the stern tuition of his father, and philosophical arena in which he was
James Mill—himself an acute thinker, and destined to render so much valuable
a distinguished ■writer—John Stuart Mill service. In 1824 he became a frequent
began to study Greek when he was three contributor to the new Westminster
years old, passed on to Latin in his eighth Review, and acquired considerable reputa
year, and, at the age of twelve, commenced tion as a powerful advocate of the philo
an elaborate course of study in political sophical Radicalism which was associated
economy, logic, and metaphysics. In 1823 with the names of Bentham and Jameshe entered the India House as junior clerk Mill. But it is worthy of note that he had1
in the Examiner’s office, and it is not sur not been converted by his father’s system
prising to find that, at this period, he was of education into a mere intellectual
described as “ a disquisitive youth ” by the machine, or reduced to an empty echo of
Examiner, Thomas Love Peacock, the his father’s thought. Throughout life he
poet and novelist. His intellectual attain was distinguished by extreme candour and
ments were immense. He had read widely honesty of intellect; he was always anxious
on many subjects in Greek, English, Latin, to accord to others the independence and
and French, and was already a logician, a liberty of thought and speech which hemetaphysician, and a political and social claimed for himself; and there was no
reformer. His practical achievements were thinker more ready to admit and to adopt
also remarkable for his years, and seemed whatever might be sound in the argument
to foreshadow an illustrious career. He of an opponent. It was this openness and
had formed a Utilitarian Society at the freedom of mind which led him to widen
�6
JOHN STUART MILL
the somewhat narrow grooves of Benthamic
thought, and, on certain questions, to take
up an attitude with which the original Utili
tarians could have no sympathy.
In 1826 Mill entered on a period of
mental crisis which lasted for two or three
years. Asking himself whether, supposing
all his objects in life were realised, it would
be a great joy and happiness to him, “ an
irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly
answered, ‘No.’” At this his heart sank
within him; “ the end had ceased to charm,
and how could there ever again be any
interest in the means ? I seemed to have
nothing left to live for.” Mill tells us that at
this time he was “ in a dull state of nerves,”
and we agree with Professor Bain that the
crisis was mainly due to physical causes
and to the overworking of the brain. Mr.
W. L. Courtney, in his Life ofJohn Stuart
Mill, describes this period of melancholy
as “ the shipwreck of Rationalism,” but
that is clearly a misstatement. The feeling
that there is nothing worth living for is not
uncommon among young people of a
thoughtful type; it has no necessary
connection either with Rationalism or with
■Christianity ; and Mill’s depression would
not have been removed if he could have
believed that the end of man was to glorify
God and enjoy him for ever. Time, new
and congenial companionships, and the
poetry of Wordsworth and Shelley, formed
the healing influences under which Mill’s
despair slowly passed away, never to return.
This crisis over, he gradually settled
down to the serious work of his life. He
had made rapid progress in the India
House, his salary rising from £30 per
annum, in 1823, to £600 per annum, in
1828; and in 1856 he was appointed
Examiner, with a salary of £2,000 a year.
This post he held until the end of 1858,
when the East India Company was extin
guished by the British Government, and
Mill was superannuated on a pension of
£1,500 per annum. His official duties left
him ample time for his cherished literary
and philosophical pursuits. His industry
was very great. He remarks that his
writings from 1832 to 1834, even if the
newspaper articles were left out, would
make a large volume. For several years,
from 1834 onward, his intellectual energies
were mainly concentrated on his System of
Logic, which was published in 1843, and
ultimately ran through eight editions. No
student of philosophy can afford to neglect
this masterly work. Acute, lucid, and
profound, it has been used as a text-book
at the Universities, and it would be difficult
to overrate its value as a philosophical
presentation of the principles underlying
modern scientific investigation.
The Logic was followed, in 1848, by
Principles of Political Economy, which is,
perhaps, the most interesting and sugges
tive book in the English language on this
great topic. Taking as its foundation
some of the main propositions of Ricardo
and Malthus, Mill adds the ripe results of
his own varied and extensive reading,
thinking, and observation, and applies the
principles of the science in a practical
manner to existing social conditions.
With his introduction to Mrs. John
Taylor in 1831 there had commenced the
most remarkable and most valued friend
ship of his life. Twenty years afterwards,
on the death of her husband, she became
Mill’s wife, and the perfect happiness of
this ideal union remained unbroken until
her death at Avignon in 1858. No one
doubts that the relations which existed
between Mill and Mrs. Taylor during her
first husband’s lifetime were of a purely
platonic character; and it is equally impos
sible to doubt that, while she exerted great
�JOHN STUART MILL
7
influence over Mill, his extravagant lauda member for Westminster, and, although
tions of her genius rested on a very slender scarcely fitted to shine as an orator, he
basis of fact. She appears to have been achieved considerable success by speeches
a woman of considerable ability and of on Reform, on the Cattle Plague Bill, on
a highly sympathetic temperament, and
Irish questions, and on other subjects.
it is probable that Mill, being powerfully He was defeated at the general election of
attracted by her sympathy, was led to take an 1868 by Mr. W. H. Smith (who afterwards
exaggerated view of her talents. He tells us became Conservative leader of the House
that the article on “The Enfranchisement of Commons), and retired, not unwillingly,
of Women ” which appeared in the West- into private life at Avignon. In 1867 he
minster Review for July, 1851, and is published his Subjection of Women, which
reprinted in his Dissertations and Discus is an amplification of the article on “ The
sions, Vol. II., was mainly her production ; Enfranchisement of Women” referred to
and we are able to gather from this essay above. It is a powerful plea for the
that, although possessed of great talent, equality of the sexes, urging that there
she was not the extraordinary genius so should be “ no power or privilege on the
loudly proclaimed by Mill.
one side nor disability on the other.” The
Meanwhile, through all the joys and Autobiography was completed, and the
vicissitudes of private life—personal illness, third of his posthumous Essays on Religion
marriage, bereavement—the current of was written, between the years 1868 and
Mill’s public work flowed steadily onward.
1873The essay On Liberty, which, he tells us,
Mill was educated by his father as a
was the joint production of himself and Rationalist, and he remained a Rationalist
his wife, was published in 1859, after her to the end of his life. As he himself wrote,
death. Charles Kingsley, who read it he was one who had “ not thrown off
through at a sitting, declared that “it made religious belief, but never had it: I grew
him a clearer-headed, braver-minded man up in a negative state with regard to it.”
on the spot.” Between the years 1858 and On the subject of religion, both the Mills
1865 Mill also published several important held opinions which are now included
political and philosophical works, including under the term Agnosticism. But, though
Representative Government, essays on a Rationalist, John Mill, we read, had a
Utilitarianism, and An Examination of favourite text: “ Work while it is day, for
Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy. All the night cometh when no man can work ”;
these books possess permanent value, and and when, shortly before his death, he was
will repay close and careful study. During told that the end was near, he calmly said,
the American Civil War Mill’s sympathies “ My work is done.” Yes, his work was
and interest were strongly enlisted in favour done, and may we not say with truth of
of the North, and, by articles contributed this “saint of Rationalism” that his “works
in 1862 to Fraser's Magazine and the do follow ” him ? He has joined
Westminster Review, he did something to
“ The choir invisible
stem the tide of feeling which ran so
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence.”
strongly in England on the side of the
Confederate States.
W. B. Columbine.
In 1865 he entered Parliament as
�DEDICATION
To the beloved and deplored memory of her who was the inspirer,
and in part the author, of all that is best in my writings—the friend
and wife whose exalted sense of truth and right was my strongest
incitement, and whose approbation was my chief reward—I dedicate
this volume.
Like all that I have written for many years, it belongs
as much to her as to me; but the work as it stands has had, in a
very insufficient degree, the inestimable advantage of her revision;
some of the most important portions having been reserved for a
more careful re-examination, which they are now never destined to
receive.
Were I but capable of interpreting to the world one half
the great thoughts and noble feelings which are buried in her grave,
I should be the medium of a greater benefit to it than is ever likely
to arise from anything that I can write, unprompted and unassisted
by her all but unrivalled wisdom.
�ON LIBERTY
Chapter I.
INTRODUCTORY
The subject of this Essay is not the socalled Liberty of the Will, so unfortu
nately opposed to the misnamed doctrine
of Philosophical Necessity ; but Civil or
Social Liberty : the nature and limits of
the power which can be legitimately
exercised by society over the individual.
A question seldom stated, and hardly
ever discussed, in general terms, but
which profoundly influences the prac
tical controversies of the age by its latent
presence, and is likely soon to make
itself recognised as the vital question of
the future. It is so far from being new
that, in a certain sense, it has divided
mankind almost from the remotest ages;
but in the stage of progress into which
the more civilised portions of the species
have now entered it presents itself under
new conditions, and requires a different
and more fundamental treatment.
The struggle between Liberty and
Authority is the most conspicuous
feature in the portions of history with
which we are earliest familiar, particu
larly in that of Greece, Rome, and
England. But in old times this contest
was between subjects, or some classes of
subjects, and the Government. By
liberty was meant protection against the
tyranny of the political rulers. The
rulers were conceived (except in some of
the popular Governments of Greece) as
in a necessarily antagonistic position to
the people whom they ruled. They con
sisted of a governing One, or a govern
ing tribe or caste, who derived their
authority from inheritance or conquest,
who, at all events, did not hold it at the
pleasure of the governed, and whose
supremacy men did not venture, perhaps
did not desire, to contest, whatever pre
cautions might be taken against its
oppressive exercise. Their power was
regarded as necessary, but also as highly
dangerous—as a weapon which they
would attempt to use against their sub
jects, no less than against external
enemies. To prevent .the weaker mem
bers of the community from being preyed
upon by innumerable vultures, it was
needful that there should be an animal
of prey stronger than the rest commis
sioned to keep them down. But as the
•king of the vultures •would be no less
bent upon preying on the flock than any
of the minor harpies, it was indispen
sable to be in a perpetual attitude of
defence against his beak and claws. The
aim, therefore, of patriots was to set
limits to the power which the ruler
should be suffered to exercise over the
community; and this limitation was what
they meant by liberty. It was attempted
�IO
ON LIBERTY
in two ways. First, by obtaining a re
cognition of certain immunities, called
political liberties or rights, which it was
to be regarded as a breach of duty in the
ruler to infringe, and which, if he did
infringe, specific resistance, or general
rebellion, was held to be justifiable. A
second, and generally a later, expedient
was the establishment of constitutional
checks, by which the consent of the
community, or of a body of some sort, sup
posed to represent its interests, was made
a necessary condition to some of the more
important acts of the governing power.
To the first of these modes of limitation
the ruling power, in most European
countries, was compelled, more or less, to
submit. It was not so with the second;
and, to attain this—or, when already in
some degree possessed, to attain it more
completely — became everywhere the
principal object of the lovers of liberty.
And so long as mankind were content to
combat one enemy by another, and to
be ruled by a master, on condition of
being guaranteed more or less effica
ciously against his tyranny, they did not
carry their aspirations beyond this point.
A time, however, came, in the progress
of human affairs, when men ceased to
think it a necessity of nature that their
governors should be an independent
power, opposed in interest to themselves.
It appeared to them much better that
the various magistrates of the State should
be their tenants or delegates, revocable
at their pleasure. In that way alone, it
seemed, could they have complete security
that the powers of government would
never be abused to their disadvantage.
By degrees this new demand for elective
and temporary rulers became the promi
nent object of the exertions of the
popular party, wherever any such party
existed; and superseded, to a con
siderable extent, the previous efforts to
limit the power of rulers. As the struggle
proceeded for making the ruling power
emanate from the periodical choice of
the ruled, some persons began to think
that too much importance had been
attached to the limitation of the power
itself.
That (it might seem) was a
resource against rulers whose interests
were habitually opposed to those of the
people. What was now wanted was,
that the rulers should be identified with
the people; that their interest and will
should be the interest and will of the
nation. The nation did not need to be
protected against its own will. There
was no fear of its tyrannising over itself.
Let the rulers be effectually responsible
to it, promptly removable by it, and it
could afford to trust them with power
of which it could itself dictate the use
to be made. The power was but the
nation’s own power, concentrated, and
in a form convenient for exercise. This
mode of thought, or rather perhaps of
feeling, was common among the last
generation of European liberalism, in
the Continental section of which it still
apparently predominates. Those who
admit any limit to what a Government
may do, except in the case of such
Governments as they think ought not to
exist, stand out as brilliant exceptions
among the political thinkers of the Con
tinent. A similar tone of sentiment
might by this time have been prevalent
in our own country if the circumstances
which for a time encouraged it had con
tinued unaltered.
But in political and philosophical
theories, as well as in persons, success
discloses faults and infirmities which
failure might have concealed from obser
vation. The notion, that the people
have no need to limit their power over
�INTRODUCTOR Y
themselves, might seem axiomatic, when
popular government was a thing only
dreamed about, or read of as having
existed at some distant period of the
past. Neither was that notion neces
sarily disturbed by such temporary aber
rations as those of the French Revolu
tion, the worst of which were the work
of an usurping few, and which, in any
case, belonged, not to the permanent
working of popular institutions, but to a
sudden and convulsive outbreak against
monarchical and aristocratic despotism.
In time, however, a democratic republic
came to occupy a large portion of the
earth’s surface, and made itself felt as
one of the most powerful members of
the community of nations; and elective
and responsible government became sub
ject to the observations and criticisms
which wait upon a great existing fact.
It was now’ perceived that such phrases
as “self-government” and “the power
of the people over themselves ” do not
express the true state of the case. The
“ people ” who exercise the pow’er are
not always the same people with those
over whom it is exercised; and the “ selfgovernment ” spoken of is not the
government of each by himself, but of
each by all the rest. The will of the
people, moreover, practically means the
will of the most numerous or the most
active part of the people ; the majority,
or those who succeed in making them
selves accepted as the majority: the
people, consequently, may desire to
oppress a part of their number, and
precautions are as much needed against
this as against any other abuse of power.
The limitation, therefore, of the power of
government over individuals loses none
of its importance w’hen the holders of
pow'er are regularly accountable to the
community—that is, to the strongest party |
ii
therein. This view of things, recom
mending itself equally to the intelligence
of thinkers and to the inclination of
those important classes in European
society to whose real or supposed inte
rests democracy is adverse, has had no
difficulty in establishing itself; and in
political speculations “ the tyranny of the
majority ” is now generally included
among the evils against which society
requires to be on its guard.
Like other tyrannies, the tyranny of
the majority was at first, and is still
vulgarly, held in dread, chiefly as operat
ing through the acts of the public autho
rities. But reflecting persons perceived
that when society is itself the tyrant—society collectively, over the separate
individuals who compose it—its means
of tyrannising are not restricted to the
acts which it may do by the hands of its
political functionaries. Society can and
does execute its own mandates: and if it
issues wrong mandates instead of right,
or any mandates at all in things with
which it ought not to meddle, it practises a
social tyranny more formidable than many
kinds of political oppression, since, though
not usually upheld by such extreme penal
ties, it leaves fewer means of escape,
penetrating much more deeply into the
details of life, and enslaving the soul
itself. Protection, therefore, against the
tyranny of the magistrate is not enough :
there needs protection also against the
tyranny of the prevailing opinion and
feeling; against the tendency of society
to impose, by other means than civil/
penalties, its own ideas and practices as
rules of conduct on those who dissent
from them ; to fetter the development,
and, if possible, prevent the formation,
of any individuality not in harmony with
its ways, and compels all characters to
fashion themselves upon the model of its
�12
ON LIBERTY
own. There is a limit to the legitimate
interference of collective opinion with
individual independence : and to find
that limit, and maintain it against en
croachment, is as indispensable to a
good condition of human affairs as pro
tection against political despotism.
But, though this proposition is not
likely to be contested in general terms,
the practical question, where to place the
limit—how to make the fitting adjust
ment between individual independence
and social control—is a subject on which
nearly everything remains to be done.
All that makes existence valuable to any
one depends on the enforcement of
restraints upon the actions of other
people. Some rules of conduct, there
fore, must be imposed, by law in the
first place, and by opinion on many
things which are not fit subjects for the
operation of law. What these rules
should be is the principal question in
human affairs; but if we except a few of
the most obvious cases, it is one of those
which least progress has been made in
resolving. No two ages, and scarcely
any two countries, have decided it alike;
and the decision of one age or country
is a wonder to another. Yet the people
of any given age and country no more
suspect any difficulty in it than if it were
a subject on which mankind had always
been agreed. The rules which obtain
among themselves appear to them selfevident and self-justifying. This all but
universal illusion is one of the examples
of the magical influence of custom,
which is not only, as the proverb says, a
second nature, but is continually mis
taken for the first. The effect of custom,
in preventing any misgiving respecting
the rules of conduct which mankind
impose on one another, is all the more
complete because the subject is one on
which it is not generally considered
necessary that reasons should be given,
either by one person to others, or by
each to himself. People are accustomed
to believe, and have been encouraged in
the belief by some who aspire to the
character of philosophers, that their
feelings on subjects of this nature are
better than reasons, and render reasons
unnecessary.
The practical principle
which guides them to their opinions on
the regulation of human conduct is the
feeling in each person’s mind that every
body should be required to act as he,
and those with whom he sympathises,
would like them to act. No one, indeed,
acknowledges to himself that his stan
dard of judgment is his own liking; but
an opinion on a point of conduct not
supported by reasons can only count as
one person’s preference; and if the
reasons, when given, are a mere appeal
to a similar preference felt by other
people, it is still only many people’s
liking instead of one. To an ordinary
man, however, his own preference, thus
supported, is not only a perfectly satis
factory reason, but the only one he
generally has for any of his notions of
morality, taste, or propriety which are
not expressly written in his religious
creed; and his chief guide in the inter
pretation even of that. Men’s opinions,
accordingly, on what is laudable or
blameable are affected by all the multi
farious causes which influence their
wishes in regard to the conduct of
others, and which are as numerous as
those which determine their wishes on
any other subject.
Sometimes their
reason—at other times their prejudices
or superstitions : often their social affec
tions, not seldom their anti-social ones,
their envy or jealousy, their arrogance or
contemptuousness: but most commonly,
�INTRODUCTORY
their desires or fears for themselves—
their legitimate or illegitimate self-inte
rest. Wherever there is an ascendant
class, a large portion of the morality of
the country emanates from its class
interests, and its feelings of class supe
riority. The morality between Spartans
and Helots, between planters and
negroes, between princes and subjects,
between nobles and roturiers, between
men and women, has been for the most
part the creation of these class interests
and feelings; and the sentiments thus
generated react in turn upon the moral
feelings of the members of the ascendant
class in their relations among themselves.
Where, on the other hand, a class, for
merly ascendant, has lost its ascendancy,
or where its ascendancy is unpopular, the
prevailing moral sentiments frequently
bear the impress of an impatient dislike
of superiority. Another grand deter
mining principle of the rules of conduct,
both in act and forbearance, which have
been enforced by law or opinion has
been the servility of mankind towards
the supposed preferences or aversions of
their temporal masters or of their gods.
This servility, though essentially selfish,
is not hypocrisy : it gives rise to perfectly
genuine sentiments of abhorrence; it
made men burn magicians and heretics.
Among so many baser influences, the
general and obvious interests of society
have of course had a share, and a large
one, in the direction of the moral senti
ments: less, however, as a matter of
reason, and on their own account, than
as a consequence of the sympathies and
antipathies which grew out of them; and
sympathies and antipathies which had
little or nothing to do with the interests
of society have made themselves felt in
the establishment of moralities with
quite as great force.
13
The likings and dislikings of society,
or of some powerful portion of it, are
thus the main thing which has practi
cally determined the rules laid down for
general observance, under the penalties
of law or opinion. And, in general, those
who have been in advance of society in
thought and feeling have left this con
dition of things unassailed in principle,
however they may have come into con
flict with it in some of its details. They
have occupied themselves rather in inquir
ing what things society ought to like or
dislike than in questioning whether its
likings or dislikings should be a law
to individuals. They preferred endea
vouring to alter the feelings of mankind
on the particular points on which they
were themselves heretical, rather than
make common cause in defence of free
dom, with heretics generally. The only
case in which the higher ground has been
taken on principle and maintained with
consistency, by any but an individual
here and there, is that of religious belief:
a case instructive in many ways, and
not least so as forming a most striking
instance of the fallibility of what is called
the moral sense; for the odium theologicum, in a sincere bigot, is one of the
most unequivocal cases of moral feeling.
Those who first broke the yoke of what
called itself the Universal Church were,
in general, as little willing to permit
difference of religious opinion as that
Church itself. But when the heat of the
conflict was over, without giving a com
plete victory to any party, and each Church
or sect was reduced to limit its hopes
to retaining possession of the ground
it already occupied; minorities, seeing
that they had no chance of becoming
majorities, were under the necessity of
pleading to those whom they could not
convert, for permission to differ. It is
�U
ON LIBERTY
accordingly on this battle field, almost
solely, that the rights of the individual
against society have been asserted on
broad grounds of principle, and the
claim of society to exercise authority
over dissentients openly controverted.
The great writers to whom the world
owes what religious liberty it possesses
have mostly asserted freedom of con
science as an indefeasible right, and
denied absolutely that a human being is
accountable to others for his religious
belief. Yet so natural to mankind is
intolerance in whatever they really care
about that religious freedom has hardly
anywhere been practically realised, except
where religious indifference, which dis
likes to have its peace disturbed by
theological quarrels, has added its weight
to the scale. In the minds of almost all
religious persons, even in the most tole
rant countries, the duty of toleration is
admitted with tacit reserves. One person
will bear with dissent in matters of
Church government, but not of dogma;
another can tolerate everybody, short of
a Papist or an Unitarian ; another, every
one who believes in revealed religion; a
few extend their charity a little further,
but stop at the belief in a God and in a
future state. Wherever the sentiment of
the majority is still genuine and intense,
it is found to have abated little of its
claim to be obeyed.
In England, from the peculiar circum
stances of our political history, though
the yoke of opinion is perhaps heavier,
that of law is lighter, than in most other
countries of Europe; and there is con
siderable jealousy of direct interference,
by the legislative or the executive power,
with private conduct; not so much from
any just regard for the independence of
the individual, as from the still subsisting
habit of looking on the Government as
representing an opposite interest to the
public. The majority have not yet
learnt to feel the power of the Govern
ment their power, or its opinions their
opinions. When they do so, individual
liberty will probably be as much exposed
to invasion from the Government as it
already is from public opinion. But, as
yet, there is a considerable amount of
feeling ready to be called forth against
any attempt of the law to control indi
viduals in things in which they have not
hitherto been accustomed to be con
trolled by it; and this with very little
discrimination as to whether the matter
is, or is not, within the legitimate sphere
of legal control; insomuch that the
feeling, highly salutary on the whole, is
perhaps quite as often misplaced as well
grounded in the particular instances of
its application. There is, in fact, no
recognised principle by which the pro
priety or impropriety of Government inter
ference is customarily tested. People
decide according to their personal pre
ferences. Some, whenever they see any
good to be done, or evil to be remedied,
would willingly instigate the Government
to undertake the business ; while others
prefer to bear almost any amount of
social evil rather than add one to the
departments of human interests amenable
to governmental control. And men
range themselves on one or the other
side in any particular case, according to
this general direction of their sentiments ;
or according to the degree of interest
which they feel in the particular thing
which it is proposed that the Govern
ment should do; or according to the
belief they entertain that the Government
would or would not do it in the manner
they prefer; but very rarely on account
of any opinion to which they consistently
adhere, as to what things are fit to be
�INTRODUCTORY
done by a Government. And it seems
to me that, in consequence of this
absence of rule or principle, one side is
at present as often wrong as the other:
the interference of Government is, with
about equal frequency, improperly in
voked and improperly condemned.
The object of this Essay is to assert
one very simple principle, as entitled to
govern absolutely the dealings of society
with the individual in the way of com
pulsion and control, whether the means
used be physical force in the form of
legal penalties, or the moral coercion of
public opinion. The principle is, that
the sole end for which mankind are
warranted, individually or collectively,
in interfering with the liberty of action
of any of their number is self-protec
tion. That the only purpose for which
power can be rightfully exercised over
any member of a civilised community,
against his will, is to prevent harm to
others. His own good, either physical
or moral, is not a sufficient warrant.
He cannot rightfully be compelled to do
or forbear because it will be better for
him to do so, because it will make him
happier, because, in the opinions of
others, to do so would be wise, or even
right. These are good reasons for
remonstrating with him, or reasoning
with him, or pursuing him, or entreating
him, but not for compelling him, or
visiting him with an evil in case he do
otherwise. To justify that, the conduct
from which it is desired to deter him must
be calculated to produce evil to some one
else. The only part of the conduct of
any one, for which he is amenable to
society, is that which concerns others.
In the part which merely concerns him
self his independence is, of right, abso
lute. Over himself, over his own body
and mind, the individual is sovereign.
15
It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to say
that this doctrine is meant to apply
only to human beings in the maturity of
their faculties. We are not speaking of
children, or of young persons below the
age which the law may fix as that of
manhood or womanhood. Those who
are still in a state to require being taken
care of by others must be protected
against their own actions as well as
against external injury. For the same
reason, we may leave out of considera
tion those backward states of society in
which the race itself may be considered
as in its nonage. The early difficulties
in the way of spontaneous progress are
so great that there is seldom any choice
of means for overcoming them; and a
ruler full of the spirit of improvement is
warranted in the use of any expedients
that will attain an end perhaps other
wise unattainable. Despotism is a legiti
mate mode of government in dealing with
barbarians, provided the end be their
improvement, and the means justified by
actually effecting that end. Liberty, as
a principle, has no application to any
state of things anterior to the time when
mankind have become capable of being
improved by free and equal discussion.
Until then there is nothing for them
but implicit obedience to an Akbar or a
Charlemagne, if they are so fortunate as
to find one. But as soon as mankind
have attained the capacity of being
guided to their own improvement by
conviction or persuasion (a period long
since reached in all nations with whom
we need here concern ourselves), com
pulsion, either in the direct form or in
that of pains and penalties for noncompliance, is no longer admissible as
a means to their own good, and justifi
able only for the security of others.
It is proper to state that I forego any
�i6
ON LIBERTY
advantage which could be derived to my
argument from the idea of abstract right,
as a thing independent of utility. I
regard utility as the ultimate appeal on
all ethical questions; but it must be
utility in the largest sense, grounded on
the permanent interests of a man as a
progressive being. Those interests, I
contend, authorise the subjection of
individual spontaneity to external control
only in respect to those actions of each
which concern the interest of other
people. If any one does an act hurtful
to others, there is a frima facie case for
punishing him, by law, or, where legal
penalities are not safely applicable, by
general disapprobation. There are also
many positive acts for the benefit of
others which he may rightfully be com
pelled to perform—such as to give
evidence in a court of justice; to bear
his fair share in the common defence,
or in any other joint work necessary to
the interest of the society of which he
enjoys the protection; and to perform
certain acts of individual beneficence,
such as saving a fellow-creature’s life, or
interposing to protect the defenceless
against ill-usage—things which, whenever
it is obviously a man’s duty to do, he
may rightfully be made responsible to
society for not doing. A person may
cause evil to others not only by his
actions, but by his inaction; and in either
case he is justly accountable to them for
the injury. The latter case, it is true,
requires a much more cautious exercise
of compulsion than the former.
To
make any one answerable for doing evil
to others is the rule; to make him
answerable for not preventing evil is,
comparatively speaking, the exception.
Yet there are many cases clear enough
and grave enough to justify that excep
tion. In all things which regard the
external relations of the individual he is
jure amenable to those whose inte
rests are concerned, and, if need be, to
society as their protector. There are
often good reasons for not holding him
to the responsibility; but these reasons
must arise from the special expediences
of the case: either because it is a kind
of case in which he is on the whole
likely to act better when left to his own
discretion than when controlled in any
way in which society have it in their
power to control him, or because the
attempt to exercise control would pro
duce other evils greater than those
which it would prevent. When such
reasons as these preclude the enforce
ment of responsibility, the conscience of
the agent himself should step into the
vacant judgment-seat, and protect those
interests of others which have no ex
ternal protection, judging himself all
the more rigidly because the case does
not admit of his being made accountable
to the judgment of his fellow-creatures.
But there is a sphere of action in
which society, as distinguished from the
individual, has, if any, only an indirect
interest—comprehending all that portion
of a person’s life and conduct which
affects only himself, or, if it also affects
others, only with their free, voluntary,
and undeceived consent and participa
tion. When I say only himself, I mean
directly, and in the first instance, for
whatever’ affects himself may affect
others through himself; and the objec
tion which may be grounded on this con
tingency will receive consideration in the
sequel. This, then, is the appropriate
region of human liberty. It comprises,
first, the inward domain of conscious
ness : demanding liberty of conscience,
in the most comprehensive sense ; liberty
of thought and feeling ; absolute freedom
�INTRODUCTORY
of opinion and sentiment on all subjects,
practical or speculative, scientific, moral,
or theological. The liberty of expressing
and publishing opinions may seem to
fall under a different principle, since it
belongs to that part of the conduct of an
individual which concerns other people;
but, being almost of as much importance
as the liberty of thought itself, and resting
in great part on the same reasons, is
practically inseparable from it. Secondly,
the principle requires liberty of tastes
and pursuits; of framing the plan of our
life to suit our own character; of doing
as we like, subject to such consequences
as may follow—without impediment from
our fellow-creatures so long as what we
do does not harm them, even though
they should think our conduct foolish,
perverse, or wrong. Thirdly, from this
liberty of each individual follows the
liberty, within the same limits, of com
bination among individuals ; freedom to
unite, for any purpose not involving harm
to others, the persons combining being
supposed to be of full age, and not forced
or deceived.
No society in which these liberties
are not, on the whole, respected is free,
whatever may be its form of government;
and none is completely free in which
they do not exist absolute and unqualified.
The only freedom which deserves the
name is that of pursuing our own good
in our own way, so long as we do not
attempt to deprive others of theirs, or
impede their efforts to obtain it. Each
is the proper guardian of his own health,
whether bodily or mental and spiritual.
Mankind are greater gainers by suffering
each other to live as seems good to them
selves than by compelling each to live
as seems good to the rest.
Though this doctrine is anything but
new, and, to some persons, may have the
17
air of a truism, there is no doctrine which
stands more directly opposed to the
general tendency of existing opinion and
practice. Society has expended fully as
much effort in the attempt (according to
its lights) to compel people to conform
to its notions of personal as of social
excellence. The ancient commonwealths
thought themselves entitled to practise,
and the ancient philosophers counte
nanced, the regulation of every part of
private conduct by public authority, on
the ground that the State had a deep
interest in the whole bodily and mental
discipline of every one of its citizens—a
mode of thinking which may have been
admissible in small Republics surrounded
by powerful enemies, in constant peril
of being subverted by foreign attack or
internal commotion, and to which even
a short interval of relaxed energy and
self-command might so easily be fatal,
that they could not afford to wait for the
salutary permanent effects of freedom.
In the modern world the greater size of
political communities, and, above all, the
separation between spiritual and temporal
authority (which placed the direction of
men’s consciences in other hands than
those which controlled their worldly
affairs), prevented so great an interference
by law in the details of private life; but
the engines of moral repression have
been wielded more strenuously against
divergence from the reigning opinion in
self-regarding than even in social matters;
religion, the most powerful of the elements
which have entered into the formation of
moral feeling, having almost always been
governed either by the ambition of a
hierarchy, seeking control over every
department of human conduct, or by the
spirit of Puritanism. And some of those
modern reformers who have placed them
selves in strongest opposition to the
c
�i8
ON LIBERTY
religions of the past have been noway
behind either Churches or sects in their
assertion of the right of spiritual domina
tion : M. Comte, in particular, whose
social system, as unfolded in his Systeme
de Politique Positive, aims at establishing
(though by moral more than by legal
appliances) a despotism of society over
the individual surpassing anything con
templated in the political ideal of the
most rigid disciplinarian among the
ancient philosophers.
Apart from the peculiar tenets of in
dividual thinkers, there is also in the
world at large an increasing inclination
to stretch unduly the powers of society
over the individual, both by the force of
opinion and even by that of legislation ;
and as the tendency of all the changes
taking place in the world is to strengthen
society and diminish the power of the
individual, this encroachment is not one
of the evils which tend spontaneously to
disappear, but, on the contrary, to grow
more and more formidable. The dis
position of mankind, whether as rulers
or as fellow-citizens, to impose their own
opinions and inclinations as a rule of
conduct on others, is so energetically
supported by some of the best and by
some of the worst feelings incident to
human nature that it is hardly ever kept
under restraint by anything but want of
power; and as the power is not declin
ing, but growing, unless a strong barrier
of moral conviction can be raised against
the mischief, we must expect, in the
present circumstances of the world, to
see it increase.
It will be convenient for the argument
if, instead of at once entering upon the
general thesis, we confine ouselves, in the
first instance, to a single branch of it, on
which the principle here stated is, if not
fully, yet to a certain point, recognised by
the current opinions. This one branch is
the Liberty of Thought, from which it is
impossible to separate the cognate liberty
of speaking and of writing. Although
these liberties, to some considerable
amount, form part of the political morality
of all countries which profess religious
toleration and free institutions, the
grounds, both philosophical and practical,
on which they rest are perhaps not so
familiar to the general mind, nor so
thoroughly appreciated by many, even of
the leaders of opinion, as might have
been expected. Those grounds, when
rightly understood, are of much wider
application than to only one division of
the subject, and a thorough consideration
of this part of the question will be found
the best introduction to the remainder.
Those to whom nothing which I am about
to say will be new may, therefore, I hope,
excuse me if, on a subject which for now
three centuries has been so often dis
cussed, I venture on one discussion more.
�1
OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
Chapter II.
OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
The time, it is to be hoped, is gone by
when any defence would be necessary of
the “ liberty of the press ” as one of
the securities against corrupt or tyrannical
government. No argument, we may
suppose, can now be needed against
permitting a legislature or an executive,
not identified in interest with the people,
to prescribe opinions to them, and deter
mine what doctrines or what arguments
they shall be allowed to hear. This
aspect of the question, besides, has been
so often and so triumphantly enforced
by preceding writers that it needs not
be especially insisted on in this place.
Though the law of England, on the
subject of the press, is as servile to this
day as it was in the time of the Tudors,
there is little danger of it being actually
put in force against political discussion,
except during some temporary panic,
when fear of insurrection drives ministers
and judges from their propriety / and,
j
1 These words had scarcely been written when,
as if to give them an emphatic contradiction,
occurred the Government Press Prosecutions of
1858. That ill-judged interference with the
liberty of public discussion has not, however,
induced me to alter a single word in the text,
nor has it at all weakened my conviction that,
moments of panic excepted, the era of pains and
penalties for political discussion has, in our own
country, passed away. For, in the first place,
the prosecutions were not persisted in ; and, in
the second, they were never, properly speaking,
political prosecutions. The offence charged was
not that of criticising institutions, or the acts or
persons of rulers, but of circulating what was
deemed an immoral doctrine, the lawfulness of
Tyrannicide.
If the arguments of the present chapter are of
speaking generally, it is not, in constitu
tional countries, to be apprehended that
the Government, whether completely
responsible to the people or not, will
often attempt to control the expression
of opinion, except when in doing so it
makes itself the organ of the general
intolerance of the public.
Let us
suppose, therefore, that the Government
is entirely at one with the people, and
never thinks of exerting any power of
coercion unless in agreement with what
it conceives to be their voice. But
I deny the right of the people to exercise
such coercion, either by themselves or
by their Government. The power itself
any validity, there ought to exist the fullest
liberty of professing and discussing, as a matter
of ethical conviction, any doctrine, however
immoral it may be considered. It would, there
fore, be irrelevant and out of place to examine
here whether the doctrine of Tyrannicide
deserves that title. I shall content myself with
saying that the subject has been at all times one
of the open questions of morals ; that the act
of a private citizen in striking down a criminal
who, by raising himself above the law, has
placed himself beyond the reach of legal punish
ment or control, has been accounted by whole
nations, and by some of the best and wisest of
men, not a crime, but an act of exalted virtue ;
and that, right or wrong, it is not of the nature of
assassination, but of civil war. As such, I hold
that the instigation to it, in a specific case, may
be a proper subject of punishment, but only if
an overt act has followed, and at least a probable
connection can be established between the act
and the instignation. Even then it is not a
foreign Government, but the very Government
assailed, which alone, in the exercise of selfdefence, can legitimately punish attacks directed
against its own existence.
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ON LIBERTY
is illegitimate. The best Government has
no more title to it than the worst. It
is as noxious, or more noxious, when
exerted in accordance with public opinion
than when in opposition to it. If all
mankind minus one were of one opinion,
and only one person were of the contrary
opinion, mankind would be no more
justified in silencing that one person
than he, if he had the power, would be
justified in silencing mankind. Were an
opinion a personal possession of no
value except to the owner; if to be
obstructed in the enjoyment of it were
simply a private injury, it would make
some difference whether the injury was
inflicted only on a few persons or on
many. But the peculiar evil of silencing
the expression of an opinion is that it is
robbing the human race ; posterity as
well as the existing generation; those
who dissent from the opinion, still more
than those who hold it. If the opinion
is right, they are deprived of the oppor
tunity of exchanging error for truth; if
wrong, they lose, what is almost as great
a benefit, the clearer perception and
livelier impression of truth, produced by
its collision with error.
It is necessary to consider separately
these two hypotheses, each of which has
a distinct branch of the argument corre
sponding to it. We can never be sure
that the opinion we are endeavouring to
stifle is a false opinion; and if we were
sure, stifling it would be an evil still.
First, the opinion which it is attempted
to suppress by authority may possibly be
true. Those who desire to suppress it
of course deny its truth ; but they are
not infallible. They have no authority
to decide the question for all mankind,
and exclude every other person from the
means of judging. To refuse a hearing
to an opinion because they are sure that
it is false is to assume that their certainty
is the same thing" as absolute certainty.
All silencing of discussion is an assump
tion of infallibility. Its condemnation may
be allowed to rest on this common argu
ment, not the worse for being common.
Unfortunately for the good sense of
mankind, the fact of their fallibility is far
from carrying the weight in their practical
judgment which is always allowed to
it in theory; for, w’hile every one well
knows himself to be fallible, few think it
necessary to take any precautions against
their own fallibility, or admit the suppo
sition that any opinion of which they
feel very certain may be one of the
examples of the error to which they
acknowledge themselves to be liable.
Absolute princes, or others who are
accustomed to unlimited deference,
usually feel this complete confidence in
their own opinions on nearly all subjects.
People more happily situated, who some
times hear their opinions disputed, and
are not wholly unused to be set right
when they are wrong, place the same
unbounded reliance only on such of
their opinions as are shared by all who
surround them, or to whom they habitu
ally defer ; for in proportion to a man’s
want of confidence in his own solitary
judgment does he usually repose, with
implicit trust, on the infallibility of “ the
world ” in general. And the world, to
each individual, means the part of it with
which he comes in contact—his party,
his sect, his church, his class of society :
the man may be called, by comparison,
almost liberal and large-minded to whom
it means anything so comprehensive as
his own country or his own age. Nor is
his faith in this collective authority at all
shaken by his being aware that other
ages, countries, sects, churches, classes,
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
and parties have thought, and even now
think, the exact reverse. He devolves
upon his own world the responsibility of
being in the right against the dissentient
worlds of other people; and it never
troubles him that mere accident has
decided which of these numerous worlds
is the object of his reliance, and that the
same causes which make him a Church
man in London would have made him
a Buddhist or a Confucian in Pekin. Yet
it is as evident in itself as any amount
of argument can make it that ages are
no more infallible than individuals—every
age having held many opinions which
subsequent ages have deemed not only
false but absurd; and it is as certain that
many opinions, now general, will be
rejected by future ages as it is that many,
once general, are rejected by the present.
The objection likely to be made to
this argument would probably take some
such form as the following. There is no
greater asstfmption of infallibility in for
bidding the propagation of error than in
any other thing which is done by public
authority on its own judgment and respon
sibility. Judgment is given to men that
they may use it. Because it may be used
erroneously, are men to be told that they
ought not to use it at all ? To prohibit
what they think pernicious is not claiming
exemption from error, but fulfilling the
duty incumbent on them, although fal
lible, of acting on their conscientious
conviction. If we were never to act on
our opinions because those opinions
may be wrong, we should leave all our
interests uncared for and all our duties
unperformed. An objection which applies
to all conduct can be no valid objection
to any conduct in particular. It is the
duty ot Governments, and of individuals,
to form the truest opinions they can ; to
form them carefully, and never impose
21
them upon others unless they are quite
sure of being right. But when they are
sure (such reasoners may say), it is
not conscientiousness, but cowardice, to
shrink from acting on their opinions, and
allow doctrines which they honestly think
dangerous to the welfare of mankind,
either in this life or in another, to be scat
tered abroad without restraint, because
other people, in less enlightened times,
have persecuted opinions now believed
to be true. Let us take care, it may be
said, not to make the same mistake ; but
Governments and nations have made
mistakes in other things which are not
denied to be fit subjects for the exercise
of authority: they have laid on bad
taxes, made unjust wars. Ought we,
therefore, to lay on no taxes, and, under
whatever provocation, make no wars?
Men and Governments must act to the
best of their ability. There is no such
thing as absolute certainty, but there is
assurance sufficient for the purposes of
human life. We may, and must, assume
our opinion to be true for the guidance
of our own conduct; and it is assuming
no more when we forbid bad men to
pervert society by the propagation of
opinions which we regard as false and
pernicious.
I answer, that it is assuming very much
more. There is the greatest difference
between presuming an opinion to be true,
because, with every opportunity for con
testing it, it has not been refuted, and
assuming its truth for the purpose of
not permitting its refutation. Complete
liberty of contradicting and disproving
our opinion is the very condition which
justifies us in assuming its truth for
purposes of action; and on no other
terms can a being with human faculties
have any rational assurance of beinz
right.
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ON LIBERT Y
When we consider either the history so ? Because he has kept his mind open
of opinion or the ordinary conduct of to criticism of his opinions and conduct.
human life, to what is it to be ascribed Because it has been his practice to listen
that the one and the other are no worse to all that could be said against him ;
than they are? Not certainly to the to profit by as much of it as was just,
inherent force of the human under and expound to himself, and upon occa
standing ; for, on any matter not self- sion to others, the fallacy of what was
evident, there are ninety-nine persons fallacious. Because he has felt that the
totally incapable of judging of it for one only way in which a human being can
who is capable; and the capacity of the make some approach to knowing the
hundredth person is only comparative; whole of a subject is by hearing what
for the majority of the eminent men of can be said about it by persons of every
every past generation held many opinions variety of opinion, and studying all modes
now known to be erroneous, and did or in which it can be looked at by every
approved numerous things which no one character of mind. No wise man ever
will now justify. Why is it, then, that acquired his wisdom in any mode but
there is on the whole a preponderance this, nor is it in the nature of human
among mankind of rational opinions and intellect to become wise in any other
rational conduct ? If there really is this manner. The steady habit of correcting
preponderance — which there must be and completing his own opinion by col
unless human affairs are, and have always lating it with those of others, so far from
been, in an almost desperate state—it is causing doubt and hesitation in carrying
owing to a quality of the human mind, it into practice, is the only stable founda
the source of everything respectable in tion for a just reliance on it; for, being
man either as an intellectual or as a cognisant of all that can, at least obviously,
moral being—namely, that his errors are be said against him, and having taken
corrigible. He is capable of rectifying his up his position against all gainsay er s—
knowing that he has sought for objections
mistakes by discussion and experience.
and difficulties, instead of avoiding them,
Not by experience alone. There must
be discussion, to show how experience and has shut out no light which can be
is to be interpreted. Wrong opinions thrown upon the subject from any quarter
and practices gradually yield to fact and —he has a right to think his judgment
argument; but facts and arguments, to better than that of any person, or any
produce any effect on the mind, must be multitude, who have not gone through a
brought before it. Very dew facts are similar process.
It is not too much to require that
able to tell their own story without
comments to bring out their meaning. what the wisest ot mankind, those who
The whole strength and value, then, of are best entitled to trust their own judg
human judgment, depending on the one ment, find necessary to warrant their
property, that it can be set right when it relying on it, should be submitted to by
is wrong, reliance can be placed on it only that miscellaneous collection of a few
when the means of setting it right are kept wise and many foolish individuals, called
constantly at hand. In the case of any the public. The most intolerant of
person whose judgment is really deserv Churches, the Roman Catholic Church,
ing of confidence, how has it become even at the canonisation of a saint, admits,
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
and listens patiently to, a “devil’s advo
cate.” The holiest of men, it appears,
cannot be admitted to posthumous
honours until all that the devil could say
against him is known and weighed. If
even the Newtonian philosophy were not
permitted to be questioned, mankind
could not feel as complete assurance of
its truth as they now do. The beliefs
which we have most warrant for have
no safeguard to rest on, but a standing
invitation to the whole world to prove
them unfounded. If the challenge is
not accepted, or is accepted and the
attempt fails, we are far enough from
certainty still; but we have done the
best that the existing state of human
reason admits of; we have neglected
nothing that could give the truth a
chance of reaching us; if the lists are
kept open, we may hope that, if there be
a better truth, it will be found when the
human mind is capable of receiving it;
and in the meantime we may rely on
having attained such approach to truth
as is possible in our own day. This is
the amount of certainty attainable by a
fallible being, and this the sole way of
attaining it.
Strange it is that men should admit
the validity of the arguments for free
discussion, but object to their being
“pushed to an extreme”; not seeing
that, unless the reasons are good for an
extreme case, they are not good for any
case. Strange that they should imagine
that they are not assuming infallibility
when they acknowledge that there should
be free discussion on all subjects which
can possibly be doubtful, but think that
some particular principle or doctrine
should be forbidden to be questioned
because it is so certain; that is, because
they are certain that it is certain. To
call any proposition certain while there
23
is anyone who would deny its certainty
if permitted, but who is not permitted,
is to assume that we ourselves and those
who agree with us are the judges of
certainty, and judges without hearing the
other side.
In the present age—which has been
described as “ destitute of faith, but
terrified at scepticism ”—in which people
feel sure, not so much that their opinions
are true, as that they should not know
what to do without them—the claims of
an opinion to be protected from public
attack are rested not so much on its
truth as on its importance to society.
There are, it is alleged, certain beliefs,
so useful, not to say indispensable, to
well-being that it is as much the duty of
Governments to uphold those beliefs as
to protect any other of the interests of
society. In a case of such necessity,
and so directly in the line of their duty,
something less than infallibility may, it
is maintained, warrant, and even bind,
Governments to act on their own opinion,
confirmed by the general opinion of man
kind. It is also often argued, and still
oftener thought, that none but bad men
would desire to weaken these salutary
beliefs; and there can be nothing wrong,
it is thought, in restraining bad men, and
prohibiting what only such men would
wish to practise. This mode of thinking
makes the justification of restraints on
discussion not a question of the truth of
doctrines, but of their usefulness, and
flatters itself by that means to escape the
responsibility of claiming to be an infal
lible judge of opinions. But those who
thus satisfy themselves do not perceive
that the assumption of infallibility is
merely shifted from one point to another.
The usefulness of an opinion is itself
matter of opinion : as disputable, as open
to discussion, and requiring discussion as
�24
ON LIBERTY
much as the opinion itself. There is fix down the discussion to a concrete
the same need of an infallible judge of case; and I choose, by preference, the
opinions to decide an opinion to be cases which are least favourable to me—
noxious as to decide it to be false, unless in which the argument against freedom
the opinion condemned has full oppor of opinion, both on the score of truth
tunity of defending itself. And it will and on that of utility, is considered the
not do to say that the heretic may be strongest. Let the opinions impugned
allowed to maintain the utility or harm be the belief in a God and in a future
lessness of his opinion, though forbidden state, or any of the commonly received
to maintain its truth. The truth of an doctrines of morality. To fight the
opinion is part of its utility. If we would battle on such ground gives a great
know whether or not it is desirable that advantage to an unfair antagonist; since
a proposition should be believed, is it he will be sure to say (and many who
possible to exclude the consideration of have no desire to be unfair will say it
whether or not it is true ? In the opinion, internally), Are these the doctrines which
not of bad men, but of the best men, no you do not deem sufficiently certain to be
belief which is contrary to truth can be taken under the protection of law ? Is
really useful; and can you prevent such the belief in a God one of the opinions
men from urging that plea when they to feel sure of which you hold to be
are charged with culpability for denying assuming infallibility? But I must be
some doctrine which they are told is permitted to observe that it is not the
useful, but which they believe to be false? feeling sure of a doctrine (be it what it
Those who are on the side of received may) which I call an assumption of
opinions never fail to take all possible infallibility. It is the undertaking to
advantage of this plea: you do not find decide that question for others, without
them handling the question of utility as allowing them to hear what can be said
if it could be completely abstracted from on the contrary side. And I denounce
that of truth ; on the contrary, it is, above and reprobate this pretension not the
all, because their doctrine is “ the truth ” less if put forth on the side of my most
that the knowledge or the belief of it is solemn convictions. However positive
held to be so indispensable. There can anyone’s persuasion may be, not only of
be no fair discussion of the question of the falsity, but of the pernicious conse
usefulness when an argument so vital quences— not only of the pernicious
may be employed on one side but not consequences, but (to adopt expressions
on the other. And, in point of fact, when which I altogether condemn) the immo
law or public feeling do not permit the rality and impiety of an opinion; yet if,
truth of an opinion to be disputed, they in pursuance of that private judgment,
are just as little tolerant of a denial of its though backed by the public judgment
usefulness. The utmost they allow is an of his country or his cotemporaries, he
extenuation of its absolute necessity, or prevents the opinion from being heard
in its defence, he assumes infallibility.
of the positive guilt of rejecting it.
In order more fully to illustrate the And so far from the assumption being
mischief of denying a hearing to opinions less objectionable or less dangerous
because we, in our own judgment, have because the opinion is called immoral or
condemned them, it will be desirable to I impious, this is the case of all others in
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
which it is most fatal. These are exactly
the occasions on which the men of one
generation commit those dreadful mis
takes which excite the astonishment and
horror of posterity. It is among such
that we find the instances memorable in
history when the arm of the law has
been employed to root out the best men
and the noblest doctrines—with deplor
able success as to the men, though some
of the doctrines have survived to be (as
if in mockery) invoked in defence of.
similar conduct towards those who dissent
from them, or from their 'received inter
pretation.
Mankind can hardly be too often re
minded that there was once a man
named Socrates, between whom and the
legal authorities and public opinion of
his time there took place a memorable
collision. Born in an age and country
abounding in individual greatness, this
man has been handed down to us by
those who best knew both him and the
age as the most virtuous man in it;
while we know him as the head and
prototype of all subsequent teachers of
virtue, the source equally of the lofty
inspiration of Plato and the judicious
utilitarianism of Aristotle, “ i maestri di
color che sanno” the two headsprings of
ethical as of all other philosophy. This
acknowledged master of all the eminent
thinkers who have since lived—whose
fame, still growing after more than two
thousand years, all but outweighs the
whole remainder of the names which
make his native city illustrious—was put
to death by his countrymen, after a
judicial conviction, for impiety and im
morality. Impiety, in denying the gods
recognised by the State; indeed, his
accuser asserted (see the Apologia) that
he believed in no gods at all. Im
morality, in being, by his doctrines and
25
instructions, a “corrupter of youth.”
Of these charges the tribunal, there is
every ground for believing, honestly found
him guilty, and condemned the man who
probably of all then born had deserved
best of mankind to be put to death as a
criminal.
To pass from this to the only other
instance of judicial iniquity, the mention
of which, after the condemnation of
Socrates, would not be an anti-climax—
the event which took place on Calvary
rather more than eighteen hundred years
ago. The man who left on the memory
of those who witnessed his life and con
versation such an impression of his moral
grandeur that eighteen subsequent cen
turies have done homage to him as the
Almighty in person was ignominiously
put to death, as what ? Asa blasphemer.
Men did not merely mistake their bene
factor ; they mistook him for the exact
contrary of what he was, and treated him
as that prodigy of impiety, which they
themselves are now held to be, for their
treatment of him. The feelings with
which mankind now regard these lament
able transactions, especially the later of
the two, render them extremely unjust
in their judgment of the unhappy actors.
These were, to all appearance, not bad
men—not worse than men commonly
are, but rather the contrary; men who
possessed in a full, or somewhat more
than a full, measure the religious, moral,
and patriotic feelings of their time and
people : the very kind of men who, in
all times, our own included, have every
chance of passing through life blameless
and respected. The high-priest who rent
his garments when the words were pro
nounced, which, according to all the
ideas of his country, constituted the
blackest guilt, was in all probability quite
as sincere in his horror and indignation
�26
ON LIBERTY
as the generality of respectable and pious
men now are in the religious and moral
sentiments they profess; and most of
those who now shudder at his conduct,
if they had lived in his time, and been
born Jews, would have acted precisely as
he did. Orthodox Christians who are
tempted to think that those who stoned
to death the first martyrs must have
been worse men than they themselves are
ought to remember that one of those
persecutors was Saint Paul.
Let us add one more example, the
most striking of all, if the impressiveness
of an error is measured by the wisdom
and virtue of him who falls into it. If
ever anyone, possessed of power, had
grounds for thinking himself the best
and most enlightened among his con
temporaries, it was the Emperor Marcus
Aurelius. Absolute monarch of the
whole civilised world, he preserved
through life not only the most un
blemished justice, but, what was less to
be expected from his Stoical breeding,
the tenderest heart. The few failings
which are attributed to him were all on
the side of indulgence; while his writings,
the highest ethical product of the ancient
mind, differ scarcely perceptibly, if they
differ at all, from the most characteristic
teachings of Christ. This man, a better
Christian in all but the dogmatic sense
of the word than almost any of the
ostensibly Christian sovereigns who have
since reigned, persecuted Christianity.
Placed at the summit of all the previous
attainments of humanity, with an open,
unfettered intellect, and a character
which led him of himself to embody in
his moral writings the Christian ideal,
he yet failed to see that Christianity was
to be a good and not an evil to the
world, with his duties to which he was
so deeply penetrated. Existing society
he knew to be in a deplorable state.
But such as it was, he saw, or thought
he saw, that it was held together, and
prevented from being worse, by belief
and reverence of the received divinities.
As a ruler of mankind, he deemed it his
duty not to suffer society to fall in pieces;
and saw not how, if its existing ties were
removed, any others could be formed
which could again knit it together. The
new religion openly aimed at dissolving
these ties: unless, therefore, it was his
duty to adopt that religion, it seemed to
be his duty to put it down. Inasmuch,
then, as the theology of Christianity did
not appear to him true or of divine origin;
inasmuch as this strange history of a cru
cified God was not credible to him, and a
system which purported to rest entirely
upon a foundation to him so wholly
unbelievable could not be foreseen by
him to be that renovating agency which,
after all abatements, it has in fact proved
to be; the gentlest and most amiable of
philosophers and rulers, under a solemn
sense of duty, authorised the persecution
of Christianity. To my mind, this is one
of the most tragical facts in all history.
It is a bitter thought how different a
thing the Christianity of the world might
have been if the Christian faith had been
adopted as the religion of the empire
under the auspices of Marcus Aurelius
instead of those of Constantine. But it
would be equally unjust to him, and false
to truth, to deny that no one plea which
can be urged for punishing anti-Christian
teaching was wanting to Marcus Aurelius
for punishing, as he did, the propaga
tion of Christianity. No Christian more
firmly believes that Atheism is false, and
tends to the dissolution of society, than
Marcus Aurelius believed the same things
of Christianity—he who, of all men then
living, might have been thought the most
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
capable of appreciating it. Unless any
one who approves of punishment for the
promulgation of opinions flatters himself
that he is a wiser and better man than
Marcus Aurelius—more deeply versed in
the wisdom of his time, more elevated
in his intellect above it; more earnest
in his search for truth, or more singleminded in his devotion to it when found—
let him abstain from that assumption of
the joint infallibility of himself and the
multitude which the great Antoninus
made with so unfortunate a result.
Aware of the impossibility of defend
ing the use of punishment for restraining
irreligious opinions, by any argument
which will not justify Marcus Antoninus,
the enemies of religious freedom, w’hen
hard pressed, occasionally accept this
consequence, and say, with Dr. Johnson,
that the persecutors of Christianity were
in the right; that persecution is an
ordeal through which truth ought to pass,
and always passes successfully, legal
penalties being, in the end, powerless
against truth, though sometimes bene
ficially effective against mischievous
errors. This is a form of the argument for
religious intolerance sufficiently remark
able not to be passed without notice.
A theory which maintains that truth
may justifiably be persecuted because
persecution cannot possibly do it any
harm cannot be charged with being
intentionally hostile to the reception of
new truths; but we cannot commend
the generosity of its dealing with the
persons to whom mankind are indebted
for them. To discover to the world
something which deeply concerns it, and
of which it was previously ignorant; to
prove to it that it had been mistaken on
some vital point of temporal or spiritual
interest, is as important a service as a
human being can render to his fellow
27
creatures, and in certain cases, as in
those of the early Christians and of the
Reformers, those who think with Dr.
Johnson believe it to have been the most
precious gift which could be bestowed
on mankind. That the authors of such
splendid benefits should be requited by
martyrdom ; that their reward should be
to be dealt with as the vilest of criminals,
is not, upon this theory, a deplorable
error and misfortune, for which humanity
should mourn in sackcloth and ashes,
but the normal and justifiable state of
things. The propounder of a new truth,
according to this doctrine, should stand,
as stood, in the legislation of the Locrians,
the proposer of a new law, with a halter
round his neck, to be instantly tightened
if the public assembly did not, on hearing
his reasons, then and there adopt his pro
position. People who defend this mode of
treating benefactors cannot be supposed
to set much value on the benefit; and I
believe this view of the subject is mostly
confined to the sort of persons who think
that new truths may have been desirable
once, but that we have had enough of
them now.
But, indeed, the dictum that truth
always triumphs over persecution is one
of those pleasant falsehoods which men
repeat after one another till they pass
into commonplaces, but which all expe
rience refutes. History teems with in
stances of truth put down by persecution.
If not suppressed for ever, it may be
thrown back for centuries. To speak
only of religious opinions : the Refor
mation broke out at least twenty times
before Luther, and was put down.
Arnold of Brescia was put down. Fra
Dolcino was put down. Savonarola was
put down. The Albigeois wrere put
down. The Vaudois w’ere put down.
The Lollards were put down.
The
�28
ON LIBERTY
Hussites were put down. Even after the
era of Luther, wherever persecution was
persisted in it was successful. In Spain,
Italy, Flanders, the Austrian empire,
Protestantism was rooted out; and, most
likely, would have been so in England
had Queen Mary lived, or Queen
Elizabeth died. Persecution has always
succeeded, save where the heretics were
too strong a party to be effectually per
secuted.
No reasonable person can
doubt that Christianity might have
been extirpated in the Roman Empire.
It spread, and became predominant,
because the persecutions were only occa
sional, lasting but a short time, and
separated by long intervals of almost
undisturbed propagandism. It is a piece
of idle sentimentality that truth, merely
as truth, has any inherent power denied
to error, of prevailing against the dungeon
and the stake. Men are not more zealous
for truth than they often are for error,
and a sufficient application of legal or
even of social penalties will generally
succeed in stopping the propagation of
either. The real advantage which truth
has consists in this, that when an opinion
is true it may be extinguished once,
twice, or many times, but in the course
of ages there will generally be found
persons to rediscover it, until some one
of its reappearances falls on a time when
from favourable circumstances it escapes
persecution until it has made such head
as to withstand all subsequent attempts
to suppress it.
It will be said that we do not now
put to death the introducers of new
opinions; we are not like our fathers,
who slew the prophets : we even build
sepulchres to them. It is true we no
longer put heretics to death; and the
amount of penal infliction which modern
feeling would probably tolerate, even
against the most obnoxious opinions, is
not sufficient to extirpate them. But let
us not flatter ourselves that we are yet
free from the stain even of legal persecu
tion. Penalties for opinion, or at least
for its expression, still exist by law; and
their enforcement is not, even in these
times, so unexampled as to make, it at
all incredible that they may some day be
revived in full force. In the year 1857,
at the summer assizes of the county of
Cornwall, an unfortunate man,1 said to
be of unexceptionable conduct in all
relations of life, was sentenced to twentyone months’ imprisonment for uttering
and writing on a gate some offensive
words concerning Christianity. Within
a month of the same time, at the Old
Bailey, two persons, on two separate
occasions,2 were rejected as jurymen,
and one of them grossly insulted by the
judge and by one of the counsel, because
they honestly declared that they had
no theological belief; and a third, a
foreigner,3 for the same reason, was
denied justice against a thief. This
refusal of redress took place in virtue of
the legal doctrine that no person can be
allowed to give evidence in a court of
justice who does not profess belief in a
God (any god is sufficient) and in a
future state; which is equivalent to
declaring such persons to be outlaws,
excluded from the protection of the
tribunals; who may not only be robbed
or assaulted with impunity, if no one but
themselves, or persons of similar opinions,
be present, but anyone else may be
1 Thomas Pooley, Bodmin Assizes, July 31st,
1857. In December following he received a
free pardon from the Crown.
2 George Jacob Holyoake, August 17th, 1857;
Edward Truelove, July, 1857.
3 Baron de Gleichen, Marlborough Street
Police Court, August 4th, 1857.
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
robbed or assaulted with impunity, if the
proof of the fact depends on their evi
dence. The assumption on which this
is grounded is that the oath is worthless
of a person who does not believe in a
future state, a proposition which betokens
much ignorance of history in those who
assent to it (since it is historically true
that a large proportion of infidels in all
ages have been persons of distinguished
integrity and honour), and would be
maintained by no one who had the
smallest conception how many of the
persons in greatest repute with the world,
both for virtues and attainments, are well
known, at least to their intimates, to
be unbelievers. The rule, besides, is
suicidal, and cuts away its own founda
tion. Under pretence that Atheists must
be liars, it admits the testimony of all
Atheists who are willing to lie, and rejects
only those who brave the obloquy of
publicly confessing a detested creed
rather than affirm a falsehood. A rule
thus self-convicted of absurdity, so far as
regards its professed purpose, can be
kept in force only as a badge of hatred,
a relic of persecution—a persecution,
too, having the peculiarity that the
qualification for undergoing it is the
being cleaily proved not to deserve it.
The rule and the theory it implies are
hardly less insulting to believers than to
infidels. For if he who does not believe
in a future state necessarily lies, it
follows that they who do believe are only
prevented from lying, if prevented they
are, by the fear of hell. We will not do
the authors and abettors of the rule the
injury of supposing that the conception
which they have formed of Christian
virtue is drawn from their own conscious
ness.
These, indeed, are but rags and rem
nants of persecution, and may be thought
29
to be not so much an indication of the
wish to persecute as an example of that
very frequent infirmity of English minds
which makes them take a preposterous
pleasure in the assertion of a bad prin
ciple when they are no longer bad enough
to desire to carry it really into practice.
But, unhappily, there is no security in the
state of the public mind that the suspen
sion of worse forms of legal persecution,
which has lasted for about the space of a
generation, will continue. In this age the
quiet surface of routine is as often ruffled
by attempts to resuscitate past evils as
to introduce new benefits. What is
boasted of at the present time as the
revival of religion is always, in narrow
and uncultivated minds, at least as much
the revival of bigotry ; and where there
is the strong permanent leaven of intole
rance in the feelings of a people, which
at all times abides in the middle classes
of this country, it needs but little to
provoke them into actively persecuting
those whom they have never ceased to
think proper objects of persecution.1
1 Ample warning maybe drawn from the large
infusion of the passions of a persecutor, which
mingled with the general display of the worst
parts of our national character on the occasion
of the Sepoy insurrection. The ravings of
fanatics or charlatans from the pulpit may be
unworthy of notice ; but the heads of the
Evangelical party have announced as their
principle for the government of Hindoos and
Mohammedans, that no schools be supported by
public money in which the Bible is not taught,
and, by necessary consequence, that no public
employment be given to any but real or pretended
Christians. An Under-Secretary of State, in a
speech delivered to his constituents on November
12th, 1857, is reported to have said : “Tolera
tion of their faith” (the faith of a hundred
millions of British subjects), “ the superstition
which they called religion, by the British
Government, had had the effect of retarding the
■ ascendancy of the British name, and preventing
�3°
ON LIBERTY
For it is this—it is the opinions men
entertain, and the feelings they cherish,
respecting those who disown the beliefs
they deem important, which makes this
country not a place of mental freedom.
For a long time past, the chief mischief of
the legal penalties is that they strengthen
the social stigma. It is that stigma
which is really effective, and so effective
is it that the profession of opinions
which are under the ban of society is
much less common in England than is,
in many other countries, the avowal of
those which incur risk of judicial punish
ment. In respect to all persons but
those whose pecuniary circumstances
make them independent of the goodwill
of other people, opinion on this subject
is as efficacious as law; men might as
well be imprisoned as excluded from the
means of earning their bread. Those
whose bread is already secured, and who
desire no favours from men in power, or
from bodies of men, or from the public,
have nothing to fear from the open
avowal of any opinions, but to be illthought of and ill-spoken of, and this
it ought not to require a very heroic
mould to enable them to bear. There
the salutary growth of Christianity.......Tolera
tion was the great corner-stone of the religious
liberties of this country ; but do not let them
abuse that precious word ‘toleration.’ As he
understood it, it meant the complete liberty to
all, freedom of worship, among Christians who
worshipped upon the same foundation. It meant
toleration of all sects and denominations of Chris
tians who believed in the one mediation.'1' I
’
desire to call attention to the fact, that a man
who has been deemed fit to fill a high office in
the government of this country under a Liberal
Ministry maintains the doctrine that all who do
not believe in the divinity of Christ are beyond
the pale of toleration. Who, after this imbecile
display, can indulge the illusion that religious
persecution has passed away, never to return ?
is no room for any appeal ad misericordiam in behalf of such persons. But
though we do not now inflict so much
evil on those who think differently from
us as it was formerly our custom to do,
it may be that we do ourselves as much
evil as ever by our treatment of them.
Socrates was put to death, but the
Socratic philosophy rose like the sun in
heaven, and spread its illumination over
the whole intellectual firmament. Chris
tians were cast to the lions, but the
Christian Church grew up a stately and
spreading tree, overtopping the older
and less vigorous growths, and stifling
them by its shade. Our merely social
intolerance kills no one, roots out no
opinions, but induces men to disguise
them, or to abstain from any active effort
for their diffusion. With us heretical
opinions do not perceptibly gain, or
even lose ground in each decade or
generation; they never blaze out far and
wide, but continue to smoulder in the
narrow circles of thinking and studious
persons among whom they originate,
without ever lighting up the general
affairs of mankind with either a true or
deceptive light. And thus is kept up a
state of things very satisfactory to some
minds, because, without the unpleasant
process of fining or imprisoning anybody,
it maintains all prevailing opinions out
wardly undisturbed, while it does not
absolutely interdict the exercise of reason
by dissentients afflicted with the malady
of thought. A convenient plan for
having peace in the intellectual world,
and keeping all things going on therein
very much as they do already. But the
price paid for this sort of intellectual
pacification is the sacrifice of the entire
moral courage of the human mind. A
state of things in which a large portion
of the most active and inquiring intellects
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
find it advisable to keep the general
principles and grounds of their convic
tions within their own breasts, and
attempt, in what they address to the
public, to fit as much as they can of
their own conclusions to premises which
they have internally renounced, cannot
send forth the open, fearless characters,
and logical, consistent intellects, who
once adorned the thinking world. The
sort of men who can be looked for under
it are either mere conformers to common
place or time-servers for truth, whose
arguments on all great subjects are meant
for their hearers, and are not those which
have convinced themselves. Those who
avoid this alternative do so by narrow
ing their thoughts and interest to things
which can be spoken of without venturing
within the region of principles—that is,
to small practical matters, which would
come right of themselves, if but the
minds of mankind were strengthened
and enlarged, and which will never be
made effectually right until then ; while
that which would strengthen and enlarge
men’s minds, free and daring speculation
on the highest subjects, is abandoned.
Those in whose eyes this reticence on
the part of heretics is no evil should
consider, in the first place, that in conse
quence of it there is never any fair and
thorough discussion of heretical opinions;
and that such of them as could not stand
such a discussion, though they may be
prevented from spreading, do not disap
pear. But it is not the minds of heretics
that are deteriorated most by the ban
placed on all inquiry which does not
end in the orthodox conclusions. The
greatest harm done is to those who are
not heretics, and whose whole mental
development is cramped, and their reason
cowed, by the fear of heresy. Who can
compute what the world loses in the
3i
multitude of promising intellects com
bined with timid characters, who dare
not follow out any bold, vigorous, inde
pendent train of thought, lest it should
land them in something which would
admit of being considered irreligious or
immoral? Among them we may occa
sionally see some man of deep conscien
tiousness and subtle and refined under
standing, who spends a life in sophisti
cating with an intellect which he cannot
silence, and exhausts the resources of
ingenuity in attempting to reconcile the
promptings of his conscience and reason
with orthodoxy, which yet he does not
perhaps to the end succeed in doing.
No one can be a great thinker who does
not recognise that as a thinker it is his
first duty to follow his intellect to what
ever conclusions it may lead. Truth
gains more even by the errors of one
who, with due study and preparation,
thinks for himself than by the true
opinions of those who only hold them
because they do not suffer themselves to
think. Not that it is solely or chiefly
to form great thinkers that freedom of
thinking is required. On the contrary, it
is as much and even more indispensable
to enable average human beings to attain
the mental stature which they are capable
of. There have been, and may again be,
great individual thinkers in a general
atmosphere of mental slavery. But there
never has been, nor ever will be, in
that atmosphere an intellectually active
people. Where any people has made a
temporary approach to such a character,
it has been because the dread of hetero
dox speculation was for a time suspended.
Where there is a tacit convention that
principles are not to be disputed; where
the discussion of the greatest questions
which can occupy humanity is considered
to be closed, we cannot hope to find that
�32
ON LIBERTY
generally high scale of mental activity
which has made some periods of history
so remarkable. Never when controversy
avoided the subjects which are large and
important enough to kindle enthusiasm
was the mind of a people stirred up from
its foundations and the impulse given
which raised even persons of the most
ordinary intellect to something of the
dignity of thinking beings. Of such we
have had an example in the condition
of Europe during the times immediately
following the Reformation; another,
though limited to the continent and to
a more cultivated class, in the specula
tive movement of the latter half of the
eighteenth century; and a third, of still
briefer duration, in the intellectual fermen
tation of Germany during the Goethian
and Fichtean period. These periods
differed widely in the particular opinions
which they developed; but were alike
in this, that during all three the yoke of
authority was broken. In each an old
mental despotism had been thrown off,
and no new one had yet taken its place.
The impulse given at these three periods
has made Europe what it now is. Every
single improvement which has taken
place either in the human mind or in
institutions may be traced distinctly to
one or other of them. Appearances have
for some time indicated that all three
impulses are well-nigh spent; and we
can expect no fresh start until we again
assert our mental freedom.
Let us now pass to the second division
of the argument, and, dismissing the
supposition that any of the received
opinions may be false, let us assume
them to be true, and examine into the
worth of the manner in which they are
likely to be held when their truth is not
freely and openly canvassed. However
unwillingly a person who has a strong
opinion may admit the possibility that
his opinion may be false, he ought to be
moved by the consideration that, however
true it may be, if it is not fully, frequently,
and fearlessly discussed, it will be held
as a dead dogma, not a living truth.
There is a class of persons (happily
not quite so numerous as formerly) who
think it enough if a person assents undoubtingly to what they think true,
though he has no knowledge whatever
of the grounds of the opinion, and could
not make a tenable defence of it against
the most superficial objections. Such
persons, if they can once get their creed
taught from authority, naturally think
that no good, and some harm, comes
of its being allowed to be questioned.
Where their influence prevails, they make
it nearly impossible for the received
opinion to be rejected wisely and con
siderately, though it may still be rejected
rashly and ignorantly; for to shut out
discussion entirely is seldom possible,
and, when it once gets in, beliefs not
grounded on conviction are apt to give
way before the slightest semblance of an
argument. Waving, however, this possi
bility—assuming that the true opinion
abides in the mind, but abides as a
prejudice, a belief independent of, and
proof against, argument—this is- not the
way in which truth ought to be held by
a rational being. This is not knowing
the truth. Truth, thus held, is but one
superstition the more, accidentally cling
ing to the words which enunciate a truth.
If the intellect and judgment of man
kind ought to be cultivated, a thing which
Protestants at least do not deny, on what
can these faculties be more appropriately
exercised by anyone than on the things
which concern him so much that it is
considered necessary for him to hold
opinions on them? If the cultivation
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
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of the understanding consists in one
thing more than in another, it is surely
in learning the grounds of one’s own
opinions. Whatever people believe, on
subjects on which it is of the first impor
tance to believe rightly, they ought to
be able to defend against at least the
common objections. But someone may
say: “ Let them be taught the grounds
of their opinions. It does not follow
that opinions must be merely parroted
because they are never heard contro
verted. Persons who learn geometry
do not simply commit the theorems to
memory, but understand and learn like
wise the demonstrations; and it would
be absurd to say that they remain
ignorant of the grounds of geometrical
truths because they never hear anyone
deny and attempt to disprove them.”
Undoubtedly ; and such teaching suffices
on a subject like mathematics, where
there is nothing at all to be said on
the wrong side of the question. The
peculiarity of the evidence of mathe
matical truths is that all the argument
is on one side. There are no objections,
and no answers to objections. But on
every subject on which difference of
opinion is possible the truth depends
on a balance to be struck between two
sets of conflicting reasons. Even in
natural philosophy there is always some
other explanation possible of the same
facts; some geocentric theory instead of
heliocentric, some phlogiston instead of
oxygen; and it has to be shown why
that other theory cannot be the true one;
and until this is shown, and until we
know how it is shown, we do not under
stand the grounds of our opinion. But
when we turn to subjects infinitely more
complicated, to morals, religion, politics,
social relations, and the business of life,
three-fourths of the arguments for every
33
disputed opinion consist in dispelling
the appearances which favour some
opinion different from it. The greatest
orator save one of antiquity has left it
on record that he always studied his
adversary’s case with as great, if not still
greater, intensity than even his own.
What Cicero practised as the means of
forensic success requires to be imitated
by all who study any subject, in order to
arrive at the truth. He who knows only
his own side of the case knows little of
that. His reasons may be good, and no
one may have been able to refute them.
But if he is equally unable to refute the
reasons on the opposite side, if he does
not so much as know what they are, he
has no ground for preferring either
opinion. The rational position for him
would be suspension of judgment; and,
unless he contents himself with that, he
is either led by authority, or adopts, like
the generality of the world, the side to
which he feels most inclination. Nor
is it enough that he should hear the
arguments of adversaries from his own
teachers presented as they state them,
and accompanied by what they offer as
refutations. That is not the way to do
justice to the arguments or bring them
into real contact with his own mind.
He must be able to hear them from
persons who actually believe them, who
defend them in earnest, and do their
very utmost for them. He must know
them in their most plausible and persua
sive form; he must feel the whole force
of the difficulty which the true view of
the subject has to encounter and dispose
of; else he will never really possess him
self of the portion of truth which meets
and removes that difficulty. Ninety-nine
in a hundred of what are called educated
men are in this condition—even of those
who can argue fluently for their opinions.
�34
ON LIBERTY
Their conclusion may be true, but it
might be false for anything they know;
they have never thrown themselves into
the mental position of those who think
differently from them, and considered
what such persons may have to say ; and
consequently they do not, in any proper
sense of the word, know the doctrine
which they themselves profess. They
do not know those parts of it which
explain and justify the remainder; the
considerations which show that a fact
which seemingly conflicts with another
is reconcilable with it, or that, of two
apparently strong reasons, one and not
the other ought to be preferred. All
that part of the truth which turns the
scale, and decides the judgment of a
completely informed mind, they are
strangers to; nor is it ever really known
but to those who have attended equally
and impartially to both sides, and en
deavoured to see the reasons of both in
the strongest light. So essential is this
discipline to a real understanding of
moral and human subjects that, if oppo
nents of all important truths do not exist,
it is indispensable to imagine them, and
supply them with the strongest arguments
which the most skilful devil’s advocate
can conjure up.
To abate the force of these considera
tions, an enemy of free discussion may
be supposed to say that there is no
necessity for mankind in general to know
and understand all that can be said
against or for their opinions by philoso
phers and theologians. That it is not
needful for common men to be able to
expose all the misstatements or fallacies
of an ingenious opponent. That it is
enough if there is always somebody
capable of answering them, so that
nothing likely to mislead uninstructed
persons remains unrefuted. That simple
minds, having been taught the obvious
grounds of the truths inculcated on them,
may trust to authority for the rest, and,
being aware that they have neither know
ledge nor talent to resolve every difficulty
which can be raised, may repose in the
assurance that all those which have been
raised have been or can be answered by
those who are specially trained to the
task.
Conceding to this view of the subject
the utmost that can be claimed for it by
those most easily satisfied with the
amount of understanding of truth which
ought to accompany the belief of it—
even so, the argument for free discussion
is no way weakened. For even this
doctrine acknowledges that mankind
ought to have a rational assurance that
all objections have been satisfactorily
answered; and how are they to be
answered if that which requires to be
answered is not spoken ? or how can the
answer be known to be satisfactory if
the objectors have no opportunity of
showing that it is unsatisfactory ? If not
the public, at least the philosophers and
theologians who are to resolve the diffi
culties, must make themselves familiar
with those difficulties in their most
puzzling form; and this cannot be accom
plished unless they are freely stated, and
placed in the most advantageous light
which they admit of. The Catholic
Church has its own way of dealing with
this embarrassing problem. It makes a
broad separation between those who can
be permitted to receive its doctrines on
conviction and those who must accept
them on trust. Neither, indeed, are
allowed any choice as to what they will
accept; but the clergy, such at least as
can be fully confided in, may admissibly
and meritoriously make themselves ac
quainted with the arguments of opponents,
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
in order to answer them, and may, there
fore, read heretical books—the laity, not
unless by special permission, hard to be
obtained. This discipline recognises a
knowledge of the enemy’s case as bene
ficial to the teachers, but finds means,
consistent with this, of denying it to the
rest of the world; thus giving to the
elite more mental culture, though not
more mental freedom, than it allows to
the mass. By this device it succeeds in
obtaining the kind of mental superiority
which its purposes require ; for, though
culture without freedom never made a
large and liberal mind, it can make a
clever nisi prius advocate of a cause.
But in countries professing Protestantism
this resource is denied; since Protestants
hold, at least in theory, that the respon
sibility for the choice of a religion must
be borne by each for himself, and cannot
be thrown off upon teachers. Besides,
in the present state of the world it is
practically impossible that writings which
are read by the instructed can be kept
from the uninstructed. If the teachers
of mankind are to be cognisant of all
they ought to know, everything must be
free to be written and published without
restraint.
If, however, the mischievous operation
of the absence of free discussion, when
the received opinions are true, were
confined to leaving men ignorant of the
grounds of those opinions, it might be
thought that this, if an intellectual, is no
moral evil, and does not affect the worth
of the opinions regarded in their influence
on the character. The fact, however, is
that not only the grounds of the opinion
are forgotten in the absence of discussion,
but too often the meaning of the opinion
itself. The words which convey it cease
to suggest ideas, or suggest only a small
portion of those they were originally
35
employed to communicate. Instead of
a vivid conception and a living belief,
there remain only a few phrases retained
by rote ; or, if any part, the shell and
husk only of the meaning is retained,
the finer essence being lost. The great,
chapter in human history which this fact
occupies and fills cannot be too earnestly
studied and meditated on.
It is illustrated in the experience of
almost all ethical doctrines and religious
creeds. They are all full of meaning and
vitality to those who originate them, and
to the direct disciples of the originators.
Their meaning continues to be felt in
undiminished strength, and is perhaps
brought out into even fuller conscious
ness, so long as the struggle lasts to give
the doctrine or creed an ascendancy over
other creeds. At last it either prevails
and becomes the general opinion, or its
progress stops : it keeps possession of
the ground it has gained, but ceases to
spread further. When either of these
results has become apparent, controversy
on the subject flags, and gradually dies
away. The doctrine has taken its place,
if not as a received opinion, as one of
the admitted sects or divisions of opinion;
those who hold it have generally inherited
not adopted it; and conversion from one
of these doctrines to another, being now
an exceptional fact, occupies little place
in the thoughts of their professors.
Instead of being, as at first, constantly
on the alert either to defend themselves
against the world or to bring the world
over to them, they have subsided into
acquiescence, and neither listen when they
can help it to arguments against their
creed nor trouble dissentients (if there
be such) with arguments in its favour.
From this time may usually be dated the
decline in the living power of the doctrine.
We often hear the teachers of all creeds
�36
ON LIBERTY
lamenting the difficulty of keeping up in
To what an extent doctrines intrinsi
the minds of believers a lively apprehen cally fitted to make the deepest impres
sion of the truth which they nominally sion upon the mind may remain in it as
recognise, so that it may penetrate the dead beliefs, without being ever realised
feelings and acquire a real mastery over in the imagination, the feeling, or the
the conduct. No such difficulty is com understanding, is exemplified by the
plained of while the creed is still fighting manner in which the majority of believers
for its existence; even the weaker com hold the doctrines of Christianity. By
batants then know and feel what they are Christianity I here mean what is accoun
fighting for, and the difference between it ted such by all Churches and sects—the
and other doctrines; and in that period maxims and precepts contained in the
of every creed’s existence not a few New Testament. These are considered
persons may be found who have realised sacred, and accepted as laws, by all pro
its fundamental principles in all the forms fessing Christians. Yet it is scarcely too
of thought, have weighed and considered much to say that not one Christian in a;
them in all their important bearings, and thousand guides or tests his individual
have experienced the full effect on the conduct by reference to those laws. The
character which belief in that creed standard to which he does refer it is the
ought to produce in a mind thoroughly custom of his nation, his class, or his
imbued with it. But when it has come religious profession. He has thus, on
to be an hereditary creed, and to be the one hand, a collection of ethical
received passively, not actively—when maxims which he believes to have been
the mind is no longer compelled, in the vouchsafed to him by infallible wisdom
same degree as at first, to exercise its as rules for his government; and, on the
vital powers on the questions which its other, a set of every-day judgments and
belief presents to it, there is a progressive practices which go a certain length with
tendency to forget all of the belief except some of those maxims, not so great a
the formularies, or to give it a dull and length with others, stand in direct oppo
torpid assent, as if accepting it on trust sition to some, and are, on the whole, a
dispensed with the necessity of realising compromise between the Christian creed
it in consciousness, or testing it by per and the interests and suggestions of
sonal experience, until it almost ceases worldly life. To the first of these stan
to connect itself at all with the inner life dards he gives his homage; to the other
of the human being. Then are seen the his real allegiance. All Christians believe ’
cases, so frequent in this age of the world that the blessed are the poor and humble
as almost to form the majority, in which and those who are ill-used by the world;
the creed remains, as it were, outside the that it is easier for a camel to pass
mind, incrusting and petrifying it against through the eye of a needle than for a
all other influences addressed to the rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven;
higher parts of our nature; manifesting that they should judge not, lest they be
its power by not suffering any fresh and judged; that they should swear not at
living conviction to get in, but itself doing all; that they should love their neighbour
nothing for the mind or heart, except as themselves; that if one take their cloak,
standing sentinel over them to keep them they should give him their coat also; that
they should take no thought for the
vacant.
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
37
morrow; that, if they would be perfect, owing that Christianity now makes so
they should sell all that they have and little progress in extending its domain,
give it to the poor. They are not insincere and, after eighteen centuries, is still nearly
when they say that they believe these confined to Europeans and the descen
things. They do believe them, as people dants of Europeans. Even with the
believe what they have always heard strictly religious, who are much in earnest
lauded and never discussed. But, in the about their doctrines, and attach a greater
sense of that living belief which regulates amount of meaning to many of them
conduct, they believe these doctrines just than people in general, it commonly
up to the point to which it is usual to happens that the part which is thus
act upon them. The doctrines in their comparatively active in their minds is
integrity are serviceable to pelt adversaries that which was made by Calvin, or Knox,
with ", and it is understood that they are or some such person much nearer in
to be put forward (when possible) as the character to themselves. The sayings
reasons for whatever people do that they of Christ co-exist passively in their minds,
think laudable. But anyone who re producing hardly any effect beyond what
minded them that the maxims require is caused by mere listening to words soan affinity of things which they never amiable and bland. There are many
even think of doing, would gain nothing reasons, doubtless, why doctrines which
but to be classed among those very un- | are the badge of a sect retain more of
popular characters who affect to be better their vitality than those common to all
than other people. The doctrines have recognised sects, and why more pains
no hold on ordinary believers—are not are taken by teachers to keep their
a power in their minds. They have an meaning alive ; but one reason certainly
habitual respect for the sound of them, is that the peculiar doctrines are more
but no feeling which spreads from the questioned, and have to be oftener de
words to the things signified, and forces fended against gainsayers. Both teachers
the mind to take them in, and make and learners go to sleep at their post as
them conform to the formula. Whenever soon as there is no enemy in the field.
The same thing holds true, generally
conduct is concerned, they look round
for Mr. A and B to direct them how far speaking, of all traditional doctrines—
those of prudence and knowledge of life
to go in obeying Christ
Now, we may be well assured that the as well as of morals or religion. All lan
case was not thus, but far otherwise, with guages and literatures are full of general
the early Christians. Had it been thus, observations on life, both as to what it is;
Christianity never would have expanded and how to conduct oneself in it—obser
from an obscure sect of the despised vations which everybody knows, which
Hebrews into the religion of the Roman everybody repeats, or hears with acquies
Empire. When their enemies said, “ See cence, which are received as truisms,
how these Christians love one another ” yet of which most people first truly learn
(a remark not likely to be made by any the meaning when experience, generally
body now), they assuredly had a much of a painful kind, has made it a reality
livelier feeling of the meaning of their to them. How often, when smarting
creed than they have ever had since. under some unforeseen misfortune or
And to this cause, probably, it is chiefly disappointment, does a person call to
�38
CA' LIBERTY
mind some proverb or common saying,
familiar to him all his life, the meaning
of which, if he had ever before felt it as
he does now, would have saved him from
the calamity. There are, indeed, reasons
for this other than the absence of discus
sion : there are many truths of which the
full meaning cannot be realised until
personal experience has brought it home.
But much more of the meaning even of
these would have been understood, and
what was understood would have been
far more deeply impressed on the mind,
if the man had been accustomed to hear
it argued pro and con. by people who did
understand it. The fatal tendency of
mankind to leave off thinking about a
thing when it is no longer doubtful is
the cause of half their errors. A co
temporary author has well spoken of “the
deep slumber of a decided opinion.”
But what! (it may be asked) Is the
absence of unanimity an indispensable
condition of true knowledge ? Is it
necessary that some part of mankind
should persist in error to enable any to
realise the truth? Does a belief cease to
be real and vital as soon as it is generally
received — and is a proposition never
thoroughly understood and felt unless
some doubt of it remains ? As soon as
mankind have unanimously accepted a
truth, does the truth perish within them?
The highest aim and best result of im
proved intelligence, it has hitherto been
thought, is to unite mankind more and
more in the acknowledgment of all im
portant truths; and does the intelligence
only last as long as it has not achieved
Its object? Do the fruits of conquest
perish by the very completeness of the
victory ?
I affirm no such thing. As mankind
improve the number of doctrines which
are no longer disputed or doubted will
be constantly on the increase; and the
well-being of mankind may almost be
measured by the number and gravity of
the truths which have reached the point
of being uncontested. The cessation,
on one question after another, of serious
controversy is one of the necessary inci
dents of the consolidation of opinion—-a
consolidation as salutary in the case of
true opinions as it is dangerous and
noxious when the opinions are erroneous.
But though this gradual narrowing of the
bounds of diversity of opinion is neces
sary in both senses of the term, being at
once inevitable and indispensable, we are
not therefore obliged to conclude that
all its consequences must be beneficial.
The loss of so important an aid to the
intelligent and living apprehension of a
truth as is afforded by the necessity of
explaining it to, or defending it against,
opponents, though not sufficient to out
weigh, is no trifling drawback from, the
benefitofits universal recognition. Where
this advantage can no longer be had, I
confess I should like to see the teachers
of mankind endeavouring to provide a
substitute for it—some contrivance for
making the difficulties of the question as
present to the learner’s consciousness as
if they were pressed upon him by a dis
sentient champion, eager for his conver
sion.
But, instead of seeking contrivances
for this purpose, they have lost those
they formerly had. The Socratic dia
lectics, so magnificently exemplified in
the dialogues of Plato, were a contrivance
of this description. They were essentially
a negative discussion of the great ques
tions of philosophy and life, directed with
consummate skill to the purpose of con
vincing anyone who had merely adopted
the commonplaces of received opinion,
that he did not understand the subject
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
—that he as yet attached no definite I
meaning to the doctrines he professed;
in order that, becoming aware of his igno
rance, he might be put in the way to
obtain a stable belief, resting on a clear
apprehension both of the meaning of
doctrines and of their evidence. The
school disputations of the Middle Ages
had a somewhat similar object. They
were intended to make sure that the pupil
understood his own opinion, and (by
necessary correlation) the opinion opposed
to it, and could enforce the grounds of
the one and confute those of the other.
These last-mentioned contests had indeed
the incurable defect that the premises
appealed to were taken from authority,
not from reason; and, as a discipline to
the mind, they were in every respect
inferior to the powerful dialectics which
formed the intellects of the “ Socratici
viri”; but the modern mind owes far
more to both than it is generally willing
to admit, and the present modes of
education contain nothing which in the
smallest degree supplies the place either
of the one or of the other. A person who
derives all his instruction from teachers
or books, even if he escape the besetting
temptation of contenting himself with
cram, is under no compulsion to hear
both sides; accordingly, it is far from a
frequent accomplishment, even among
thinkers, to know both sides; and the
weakest part of what everybody says in
defence of his opinion is what he intends
as a reply to antagonists. It is the fashion
of the present time to disparage negative
logic—that which points out weaknesses
in theory or errors in practice, without
establishing positive truths. Such nega
tive criticism would, indeed, be poor
enough as an ultimate result; but, as a
means to attaining any positive know
ledge or conviction worthy the name, it
39
cannot be valued too highly; and until
people are again systematically trained
to it there will be few great thinkers,
and a low general average of intellect, in
any but the mathematical and physical
departments of speculation. On any
other subject no one’s opinions deserve
the name of knowledge, except so far as
he has either had forced upon him by
others, or gone through of himself, the
same mental process which would have
been required of him in carrying on an
active controversy with opponents. That,
therefore, which, when absent, it is so
indispensable, but so difficult, to create,
how worse than absurd it is to forego
when spontaneously offering itself! If
there are any persons who contest a
received opinion, or who will do so if law
or opinion will let them, let us thank
them for it, open our minds to listen to
them, and rejoice that there is someone
to do for us what we otherwise ought, if
we have any regard for either the certainty
or the vitality of our convictions, to do
with much greater labour for ourselves.
It still remains to speak of one of the
principal causes which make diversity of
opinion advantageous, and will continue
to do so until mankind shall have entered
a stage of intellectual advancement which
at present seems at an incalculable dis
tance. We have hitherto considered
only two possibilities: that the received
opinion may be false, and some other
opinion, consequently, true; or that, the
received opinion being true, a conflict
with the opposite error is essential to a
clear apprehension and deep feeling of
its truth. But there is a commoner case
than either of these : when the conflicting
doctrines, instead of being one true and
the other false, share the truth between
them, and the nonconforming opinion
�4o
ON LIBERTY
is needed to supply the remainder of the
truth, of which the received doctrine
embodies only a part. Popular opinions,
on subjects not palpable to sense, are
often true, but seldom or never the whole
truth. They are a part of the truth—
sometimes a greater, sometimes a smaller
part, but exaggerated, distorted, and dis
joined from the truths by which they
ought to be accompanied and limited.
Heretical opinions, on the other hand,
are generally some of these suppressed
and neglected truths, bursting the bonds
which kept them down, and either seek
ing reconciliation with the truth contained
in the common opinion, or fronting it as
enemies, and setting themselves up, with
similar exclusiveness, as the whole truth.
The latter case is hitherto the most
frequent, as, in the human mind, one
sidedness has always been the rule and
many-sidedness the exception. Hence,
even in revolutions of opinion, one part
of the truth usually sets while the other
rises. Even progress, ’ which ought to
superadd, for the most part only substi
tutes, one partial and incomplete truth
for another; improvement consisting
chiefly in this, that the new fragment of
truth is more wanted, more adapted to
the needs of the time, than that which
it displaces. Such being the partial
character of prevailing opinions, even
when resting on a true foundation, every
opinion which embodies somewhat of
the portion of truth which the common
opinion omits ought to be considered
precious, with whatever amount of error
and confusion that truth may be blended.
No sober judge of human affairs will feel
bound to be indignant because those who
force on our notice truths which we should
otherwise have overlooked, overlook some
of those which we see. Rather, he will
think that, so long as popular truth is
one-sided, it is more desirable than
otherwise that unpopular truth should
have one-sided assertors too; such
being usually the most energetic and
the most likely to compel reluctant
attention to the fragment of wisdom
which they proclaim as if it were the
whole.
Thus in the eighteenth century, when
nearly all the instructed, and all those of
the uninstructed who were led by them,
were lost in admiration of what is called
civilisation, and of the marvels of modern
science, literature, and philosophy, and,
while greatly overrating the amount of
unlikeness between the men of modern
and those of ancient times, indulged the
belief that the whole of the difference was
in their own favour—with what a salutary
shock did the paradoxes of Rousseau
explode like bombshells in the midst,
dislocating the compact mass of one
sided opinion, and forcing its elements
to recombine in a better form and
with additional ingredients. Not that the
current opinions were on the whole farther
from the truth than Rousseau’s were; on
the contrary, they were nearer to it: they
contained more of positive truth, and
very much less of error. Nevertheless,
there lay in Rousseau’s doctrine, and has
floated down the stream of opinion along
with it, a considerable amount of exactly
those truths which the popular opinion
wanted; and these are the deposit which
was left behind when the flood subsided.
The superior worth of simplicity of life,
the enervating and demoralising effect of
the trammels and hypocrisies of artificial
society, are ideas which have never been
entirely absent from cultivated minds
since Rousseau wrote; and they will in
time produce their due effect, though at
present needing to be asserted as much
as ever, and to be asserted by deeds,
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
for words on this subject have nearly
exhausted their power.
In politics, again, it is almost a com
monplace, that a party of order or stability,
and a party of progress or reform, are both
necessary elements of a healthy state of
political life ; until the one or the other
shall have so enlarged its mental grasp
as to be a party equally of order and of
progress, knowing and distinguishing what
is fit to be preserved from what ought to
be swept away. Each of these modes
of thinking derives its utility from the
deficiencies of the other; but it is in a
great measure the opposition of the other
that keeps each within the limits of reason
and sanity. Unless opinions favourable
to democracy and to aristocracy, to
property and to equality, to co-operation
and to competition, to luxury and to
abstinence, to sociality and individuality,
to liberty and discipline, and all the other
standing antagonisms of practical life, are
expressed with equal freedom, and en
forced and defended with equal talent
and energy, there is no chance of both
elements obtaining their due : one scale
is sure to go up and the other down.
Truth, in the great practical concerns of
life, is so much a question of the recon
ciling and combining of opposites that
very few have minds sufficiently capacious
and impartial to make the adjustment
with an approach to correctness, and it
has to be made by the rough process of
a struggle between combatants fighting
under hostile banners. On any of the
great open questions just enumerated, if
either of the two opinions has a better
claim than the other, not merely to be
tolerated, but to be encouraged and
countenanced, it is the one which happens
at the particular time and place to be in a
minority. That is the opinion which, for
the time being, represents the neglected
41
interests, the side of human well-being
which is in danger of obtaining less than
its share. I am aware that there is not,
in this country, any intolerance of differ
ences of opinion on most of these topics.
They are adduced to show, by admitted
and multiplied examples, the universality
of the fact that only through diversity
of opinion is there, in the existing state
of human intellect, a chance of fair play
to all sides of the truth. When there are
persons to be found who form an excep
tion to the apparent unanimity of the
world on any subject, even if the world
is in the right, it is always probable that
dissentients have something worth hear
ing to say for themselves, and that truth
would lose something by their silence.
It may be objected, “ But some received
principles, especially on the highest and
most vital subjects, are more than half
truths. The Christian morality, for
instance, is the whole truth on that
subject, and if anyone teaches a morality
which varies from it, he is wholly in error.”
As this is of all cases the most important
in practice, none can be fitter to test the
general maxim. But before pronouncing
what Christian morality is or is not, it
would be desirable to decide what is
meant by Christian morality. If it means
the morality of the New Testament, I
wonder that anyone who derives his
knowledge of this from the book itself
can suppose that it was announced, or
intended, as a complete doctrine of
morals. The Gospel always refers to a
pre-existing morality, and confines its
precepts to the particulars in which that
morality was to be corrected, or super
seded by a wider and higher; expressing
itself, moreover, in terms most general,
often impossible to be interpreted literally,
and possessing rather the impressiveness
of poetry or eloquence than the precision
�42
ON LIBERTY
of legislation. To extract from it a body
of ethical doctrine has never been possible
without eking it out from the Old Testa
ment—that is, from a system elaborate
indeed, but in many respects barbarous,
and intended only for a barbarous people.
St. Paul, a declared enemy to this Judaical
mode of interpreting the doctrine and
filling up the scheme of his Master,
equally assumes a pre-existing morality—
namely, that of the Greeks and Romans;
and his advice to Christians is in a great
measure a system of accommodation to
that; even to the extent of giving an
apparent sanction to slavery. What is
called Christian, but should rather be
termed theological, morality was not the
work of Christ or the Apostles, but is of
much later origin, having been gradually
built up by the Catholic Church of the
first five centuries, and, though not
implicitly adopted by moderns and Pro
testants, has been much less modified
by them than might have been expected.
For the most part, indeed, they have
contented themselves with cutting off the
additions which had been made to it in
the Middle Ages, each sect supplying
the place by fresh additions, adapted to
its own character and tendencies. That
mankind owe a great debt to this morality,
and to its early teachers,, I should be the
last person to deny; but I do not scruple
to say of it that it is, in many important
points, incomplete and one-sided, and
that unless ideas and feelings, not
sanctioned by it, had contributed to the
formation of European life and character,
human affairs would have been in a
worse condition than they now are.
Christian morality (so called) has all the
characters of a reaction; it is, in great
part, a protest against Paganism. Its
ideal is negative rather than positive ;
passive rather than active; Innocence
----------------- :------ r ;
rather than Nobleness ; Abstinence trom
Evil rather than energetic Pursuit of
Good; in its precepts (as has been well
said) “thou shalt not” predominates
over “ thou shalt.” In its horror
of sensuality, it made an idol of asceticism, which has been gradually compro
mised away into one of legality. It
holds out the hope of heaven and the
threat of hell, as the appointed and ap
propriate motives to a virtuous life; in
this falling far below the best of the
ancients, and doing what lies in it to give
to human morality an essentially selfish
character, by disconnecting each man’s
feelings of duty from the interests of his
fellow-creatures, except so far as a selfinterested inducement is offered to him
for consulting them. It is essentially a
doctrine of passive obedience; it incul
cates submission to all authorities found
established; who indeed are not to be
actively obeyed when they command
what religion forbids, but who are not to
be resisted, far less rebelled against, for
any amount of wrong to ourselves. And
while, in the morality of the best Pagan
nations, duty to the State holds even a
disproportionate place, infringing on the
just liberty of the individual, in purely
Christian ethics that ground department
of duty is scarcely noticed or acknow
ledged. It is in the Koran, not the New
Testament, that we read the maxim—•
“ A ruler who appoints any man to an
office when there is in his dominions
another man better qualified for it, sins
against God and against the State.”
What little recognition the idea of obli
gation to the public obtains in modern
morality is derived from Greek and
Roman sources, not from Christian; as
even in the morality of private life what
ever exists of magnanimity, highmindedness, personal dignity, even the sense of
!
■
j
1
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
honour, is derived from the purely human,
not the religious, part of our education,
and never could have grown out of a
standard of ethics in which the only
worth, professedly recognised, is that of
obedience.
I am as far as anyone from pretending
that these defects are necessarily inherent
in the Christian ethics, in every manner
in which it can be conceived, or that the
many requisites of a complete moral
doctrine which it does not contain do
not admit of being reconciled with it.
Far less would I insinuate this of the
doctrines and precepts of Christ himself.
I believe that the sayings of Christ are
all that I can see any evidence of their
having been intended to be; that they
are irreconcilable with nothing which a
comprehensive morality requires; that
everything which is excellent in ethics
may be brought within them with no
greater violence to their language than
has been done to it by all who have
attempted to deduce from them any
practical system of conduct whatever.
But it is quite consistent with this to
believe that they contain, and were
meant to contain, only a part of the
truth; that many essential elements of the
highest morality are among the things
which are not provided for, nor intended
to be provided for, in the recorded
deliverances of the Founder of Chris
tianity, and which have been entirely
thrown aside in the system of ethics
erected on the basis of those deliverances
by the Christian Church.
And this
being so, I think it a great error to
persist in attempting to find in the Chris
tian doctrine that complete rule for our
guidance which its author intended it to
sanction and enforce, but only partially
to provide. I believe, too, that this
narrow theory is becoming a grave prac
43
tical evil, detracting greatly from the
moral training and instruction which so
many well-meaning persons are now at
length exerting themselves to promote.
I much fear that by attempting to form
the mind and feelings on an exclusively
religious type, and discarding those secu
lar standards (as for want of a better
name they may be called) which hereto
fore co-existed with and supplemented
the Christian ethics, receiving some of
its spirit, and infusing into it some of
theirs, there will result, and is even now
resulting, a low, abject, servile type of
character, which, submit itself as it may
to what it deems the Supreme Will, is
incapable of rising to or sympathising in>
the conception of Supreme Goodness.
I believe that other ethics than any
which can be evolved from exclusively
Christian sources must exist side by
side with Christian ethics to produce the
moral regeneration of mankind; and that
the Christian system is no exception to
the rule, that in an imperfect state of
the human mind the interests of truth
require a diversity of opinions. It is not
necessary that, in ceasing to ignore the
moral truths not contained in Chris
tianity, men should ignore any of those
which it does contain. Such prejudice,
or oversight, when it occurs, is altogether
an evil; but it it is one from which we
cannot hope to be always exempt, and
must be regarded as the price paid for
an inestimable good. The exclusive pre
tension made by a part of the truth to be
the whole must and ought to be pro
tested against; and if a reactionary im
pulse should make the protesters unjust
in their turn, this one-sidedness, like the
other, may be lamented, but must be
tolerated. If Christians would teach
infidels to be just to Christianity, they
should themselves be just to infidelity.
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ON LIBERTY
It can do truth no service to blink the
fact, known to all who have the most
ordinary acquaintance with literary history,
that a large portion of the noblest and
most valuable moral teaching has been
the work, not only of men who did not
know, but of men who knew and rejected,
the Christian faith.
I do not pretend that the most un
limited use of the freedom of enunciating
all possible opinions would put an end
to the evils of religious or philosophical
sectarianism. Every truth which men of
narrow capacity are in earnest about is
•sure to be asserted, inculcated, and in
many ways even acted on, as if no other
truth existed in the world, or at all
events none that could limit or qualify
the first. I acknowledge that the ten
dency of all opinions to become sectarian
?is not cured by the freest discussion,
but is often heightened and exacerbated
thereby; the truth which ought to have
been, but was not, seen being rejected
all the more violently because proclaimed
by persons regarded as opponents. But
it is not on the impassioned partisan, it
is on the calmer and more disinterested
bystander, that this collision of opinions
works its salutary effect. Not the violent
conflict between parts of the truth, but
the quiet suppression of half of it, is the
formidable evil; there is always hope
when people are forced to listen to both
sides; it is when they attend only to one
that errors harden into prejudices, and
truth itself ceases to have the effect of
truth by being exaggerated into false
hood. And since there are few mental
attributes more rare than that judicial
faculty which can sit in intelligent judg
ment between two sides of a question, of
which only one is represented by an
advocate before it, truth has no chance
but in proportion as every side of it,
every opinion which embodies any frac
tion of the truth, not only finds advo
cates, but is so advocated as to be
listened to.
We have now recognised the necessity
to the mental well-being of mankind (on
which all their other well-being depends)
of freedom of opinion, and freedom of
the expression of opinion, on four distinct
grounds, which we will now briefly re
capitulate.
First, if any opinion is compelled to
silence, that opinion may, for aught we
can certainly know, be true. To deny
this is to assume our own infallibility.
Secondly, though the silenced opinion
be an error, it may, and very commonly
does, contain a portion of truth ; and
since the general or prevailing opinion
on any subject is rarely or never the
whole truth, it is only by the collision of
adverse opinions that the remainder of
the truth has any chance of being
supplied.
Thirdly, even if the received opinion
be not only true, but the whole truth,
unless it is suffered to be, and actually
is, vigorously and earnestly contested, it
will, by most of those who receive it, be
held in the manner of a prejudice, with
little comprehension or feeling of its
rational grounds. And not only this,
but, fourthly, the meaning of the doctrine
itself, will be in danger of being lost, or
enfeebled, and deprived of its vital effect
on the character and conduct: the
dogma becoming a mere formal pro
fession, inefficacious for good, but
cumbering the ground, and preventing
the growth of any real and heartfelt
conviction, from reason or personal
experience.
Before quitting the subject of freedom
of opinion, it is fit to take some notice
of those who say that the free expression
�OF THE LIBERTY OF THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION
cf all opinions should be permitted, on
condition that the manner be temperate,
and do not pass the bounds of fair dis
cussion. Much might be said on the
impossibility of fixing where these sup
posed bounds are to be placed; for if
the test be offence to those whose
opinions are attacked, I think experience
testifies that this offence is given when
ever the attack is telling and powerful,
and that every opponent who pushes
them hard, and whom they find it difficult
to answer, appears to them, if he shows
any strong feeling on the subject, an
intemperate opponent. But this, though
an important consideration in a practical
point of view, merges in a more funda
mental objection.
Undoubtedly the
manner of asserting an opinion, even
though it be a true one, may be very
objectionable, and may justly incur
severe censure.
But the principal
offences of the kind are such as it is
mostly impossible, unless by accidental
self-betrayal, to bring home to con
viction. The gravest of them is, to
argue sophistically, to suppress facts or
arguments, to misstate the elements
of the case, or misrepresent the oppo
site opinion.
But all this, even to
the most aggravated degree, is so con
tinually done in perfect good faith by
persons who are not considered, and in
many other respects may not deserve
to be considered, ignorant or incom
petent, that it is rarely possible, on
adequate grounds, conscientiously to
stamp the misrepresentation as morally
culpable ; and still less could law pre-;
sume to interfere with this kind of con
troversial misconduct. With regard to
what is commonly meant by intemperate
discussion—namely, invective, sarcasm,
personality, and the like—the denuncia
tion of these weapons would deserve
45
more sympathy if it were ever proposed
to interdict them equally to both sides ;
but it is only desired to restrain the
employment of them against the pre
vailing opinion; against the unprevailing
they may not only be used without
general disapproval, but will be likely to
obtain for him who uses them the praise
of honest zeal and righteous indignation.
Yet whatever mischief arises from their
use is greatest when they are employed
against the comparatively defenceless;
and whatever unfair advantage can be
derived by any opinion from this mode
of asserting it accrues almost exclu
sively to received opinions. The worst
offence of this kind which can be com
mitted by a polemic is to stigmatise
those who hold the contrary opinion as
bad and immoral men. To calumny of
this sort those who hold any unpopular
opinion are peculiarly exposed, because
they are in general few and uninfluential,
and nobody but themselves feels much
interested in seeing justice done them ;
but this weapon is, from the nature of
the case, denied to those who attack a
prevailing opinion; they can neither use
it with safety to themselves, nor, if they
could, would it do anything but recoil on
their own cause. In general, opinions
contrary to those commonly received
can only obtain a hearing by studied
moderation of language, and the most
cautious avoidance of unnecessary
offence, from which they hardly ever
deviate even in a slight degree without
losing ground; while unmeasured vitu
peration employed on the side of the
prevailing opinion really does deter
people from professing contrary opinions,
and from listening to those who profess
them. For the interest, therefore, of
truth and justice, it is far more imporI tant to restrain this employment of
�46
ON LIBERTY
vituperative language than the other;
and, for example, if it were necessary to
choose, there would be much more need
to discourage offensive attacks on infi
delity than on religion. It is, however,
obvious that law and authority have no
business with restraining either, while
opinion ought, in every instance, to de
termine its verdict by the circumstances
of the individual case; condemning
every one, on which ever side of the argu
ment he places himself, in whose mode
of advocacy either want of candour, or
malignity, bigotry, or intolerance of feel
ing, manifest themselves ; but not infer
ring these vices from the side which a
person takes, though it be the contrary
side of the question to our own: and
giving merited honour to every one,
whatever opinion he may hold, who has
calmness to see and honesty to state
what his opponents and their opinions
really are, exaggerating nothing to their
discredit, keeping nothing back which
tells, or can be supposed to tell, in their
favour. This is the real morality of
public discussion : and if often violated,
I am happy to think that there are
many controversialists who to a great
extent observe it, and a still greater
number who conscientiously strive to
wards it.
Chapter III.
OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS
OF WELL-BEING
Such being the reasons which make it
imperative that human beings should be
free to form opinions, and to express
their opinions without reserve; and such
the baneful consequences to the intel
lectual, and through that to the moral,
nature of man, unless this liberty is either
conceded, or asserted in spite of prohibi
tion; let us next examine whether the
same reasons do not require that men
should be free to act upon their opinions
—to carry these out in their lives, with
out hindrance, either physical or moral,
from their fellow men, so long as it is at
their own risk and peril. This last pro
viso is, of course, indispensable. No one
pretends that actions should be as free
as opinions. On the contrary, even
opinions lose their immunity when the
circumstances in which they are ex
pressed are such as to constitute their
expression a positive instigation to some
mischievous act. An opinion that corn
dealers are starvers of the poor, or that
private property is robbery, ought to
be unmolested when simply circulated
through the press, but may justly incur
punishment when delivered orally to an
excited mob assembled before the house
of a corn-dealer, or when handed about
among the same mob in the form of a pla
card. Acts, of whatever kind, which, with
out justifiable cause, do harm to others,
may be, and in the more important cases
absolutely require to be, controlled by
the unfavourable sentiments, and, when
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 47
needful, by the active interference of the indifference of persons in general to
mankind. The liberty of the individual the end itself. If it were felt that the
must be thus far limited; he must not free development of individuality is one of
make himself a nuisance to other people. the leading essentials of well-being; that
But if he refrains from molesting others it is not only a co-ordinate element with
in what concerns them, and merely acts all that is designated by the terms civili
according to his own inclination and judg sation, instruction, education, culture,
ment in things which concern himself, the but is itself a necessary part and con
same reasons which show that opinion dition of all those things; there would
should be free prove also that he should be no danger that liberty should be
be allowed, without molestation, to carry undervalued, and the adjustment of the
his opinions into practice at his own boundaries between it and social control
cost. That mankind are not infallible; would present no extraordinary difficulty.
But the evil is that individual spontaneity
that their truths, for the most part,
are only half-truths; that unity of is hardly recognised by the common
opinion, unless resulting from the modes of thinking, as having any intrinsic
fullest and freest comparison of op worth, or deserving any regard on its
posite opinions, is not desirable, and own account. The majority, being satis
fied with the ways of mankind as they
diversity not an evil, but a good
until mankind are much more capable now are (for it is they who make them
than at present of recognising all sides what they are), cannot comprehend why
of the truth, are principles applicable to those ways should not be good enough
men’s modes of action, not less than to for everybody: and what is more, spon
their opinions. As it is useful that while taneity forms no part of the ideal of the
mankind are imperfect there should be majority of moral and social reformers,
different opinions, so it is that there but is rather looked on with jealousy,
should be different experiments of living ; as a troublesome and perhaps rebellious
that free scope should be given to varieties obstruction to the general acceptance
of character, short of injury to others; of what these reformers, in their own
and that the worth of different modes of judgment, think would be best for man
life should be proved practically, when kind. Few persons, out of Germany,
anyone thinks fit to try them. It is even comprehend the meaning of the
desirable, in short, that in things which doctrine which Wilhelm von Humboldt,
do not primarily concern others, indi so eminent both as a savant and as a
politician, made the text of a treatise—
viduality should assert itself. Where,
that “ the end of man, or that which is
not the person’s own character, but the
traditions or customs of other people, prescribed by the eternal or immutable
are the rule of conduct, there is wanting dictates of reason, and not suggested by
one of the principal ingredients of human vague and transient desires, is the highest
happiness, and quite the chief ingredient and most harmonious development of
his powers to a complete and consistent
of individual and social progress.
that, therefore, the object
In maintaining this principle, the whole
greatest difficulty to be encountered “ towards which every human being
does not lie in the appreciation of means must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on
towards an acknowledged end, but in which especially those who design to
�48
ON LIBERTY
influence their fellow-men must ever
keep their eyes, is the individuality of
power and development”; that for this
there are two requisites, “freedom, and
variety of situations”; and that from the
union of these arise “ individual vigour
and manifold diversity,” which combine
themselves in “ originality.”1
Little, however, as people are accus
tomed to a doctrine like that of Von
Humboldt, and surprising as it may
be to them to find so high a value
attached to individuality, the question,
one must nevertheless think, can only
be one of degree. No one’s idea of
excellence in conduct is that people
should do absolutely nothing but copy
one another. No one would assert that
people ought not to put into their mode
of life, and into the conduct of their
concerns, any impress whatever of their
own judgment, or of their own individual
character. On the other hand, it would
be absurd to pretend that people ought
to live as if nothing whatever had been
known in the world before they came
into it; as if experience had as yet
done nothing towards showing that
one mode of existence, or of conduct,
is preferable to another.
Nobody
denies that people should be so
taught and trained in youth as to
know and benefit by the ascertained
results of human experience. But it
is the privilege and proper condition of
a human being, arrived at the maturity
of his faculties, to use and interpret
experience in his own way. It is for
him to find out what part of recorded
experience is properly applicable to his
own circumstances and character. The
traditions and customs of other people
1 The Sphere and Duties of Government, from
the German of Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt,
np. II-13.
are, to a certain extent, evidence of what
their experience has taught them; pre
sumptive evidence, and as such, have
a claim to his deference: but, in the
first place, their experience may be too
narrow; or they may not have inter
preted it rightly. Secondly, their inter
pretation of experience may be correct,
but unsuitable to him. Customs are
made for customary circumstances and
customary characters ; and his circum
stances or his character may be un
customary. Thirdly, though the customs
be both good as customs, and suitable
to him, yet to conform to custom merely
as custom does not educate or develop
in him any of the qualities which are the
distinctive endowment of a human being.
The human faculties of perception,
judgment, discriminative feeling, mental
activity, and even moral preference, are
exercised only in making a choice. He
who does anything because it is the
custom makes no choice. He gains no
practice either in discerning or in desir
ing what is best. The mental and moral,
like the muscular powers, are improved
only by being used. The faculties are
called into no exercise by doing a thing
merely because others do it, no more
than by believing a thing only because
others believe it. If the grounds of an
opinion are not conclusive to the person’s
own reason, his reason cannot be
strengthened, but is likely to be
weakened, by his adopting it; and if the
inducements to an act are not such as
are consentaneous to his own feelings
and character (where affection, or the
rights of others, are not concerned), it is
so much done towards rendering his
feelings and character inert and torpid,
instead of active and energetic.
He who lets the world, or his own
portion of it, choose his plan of life for
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 49
him has no need of any other faculty
than the ape-like one of imitation. He
who chooses his plan for himself employs
all his faculties. He must use observa
tion to see, reasoning and judgment to
foresee, activity to gather materials for
decision, discrimination to decide, and,
when he has decided, firmness and self
control to hold to his deliberate decision.
And these qualities he requires and
exercises exactly in proportion as the
part of his conduct which he determines
according to his own judgment and
feelings is a large one. It is possible
that he might be guided in some good
path, and kept out of harm’s way, without
any of these things. But what will be
his comparative worth as a human being ?
It really is of importance, not only what
men do, but also what manner of men
they are that do it. Among the works
of man which human life is rightly
employed in perfecting and beautifying,
the first in importance surely is man
himself. Supposing it were possible to
get houses built, corn grown, battles
fought, causes tried, and even churches
erected and prayers said, by machinery
—by automatons in human form—it
would be a considerable loss to exchange
for these automatons even the men and
women who at present inhabit the more
civilised parts of the world, and who
assuredly are but starved specimens of
what nature can and will produce.
Human nature is not a machine to be
built after a model, and set to do exactly
the work prescribed for it, but a tree,
which requires to grow and develop itself
on all sides, according to the tendency
of the inward forces which make it a
living thing.
It will probably be conceded that it is
desirable people should exercise their
understandings, and that an intelligent
following of custom, or even occasionally
an intelligent deviation from custom, is
better than a blind and simply mechanical
adhesion to it. To a certain extent it is
admitted that our understanding should
be our own; but there is not the same
willingness to admit that our desires and
impulses should be our own likewise ; or
that to possess impulses of our own, and
of any strength, is anything but a peril
and a snare. Yet desires and impulses
are as much a part of a perfect human
being as beliefs and restraints; and
strong impulses are only perilous when
not properly balanced ; when one set of
aims and inclinations is developed into
strength, while others, which ought to
co-exist with them, remain weak and
inactive. It is not because men’s desires
are strong that they act ill; it is because
their consciences are weak. There is
no natural connection between strong
impulse and a weak conscience. The
natural connection is the other way. To
say that one person’s desires and feelings
are stronger and more various than those
of another is merely to say that he has
more of the raw material of human
nature, and is therefore capable, perhaps
of more evil, but certainly of more good.
Strong impulses are but another name
for energy. Energy may be turned to
bad uses ; but more good may always
be made of an energetic nature than of
an indolent and impassive one. Those
who have most natural feeling are always
those whose cultivated feelings may be
made the strongest. The same strong
susceptibilities which make the personal
impulses vivid and powerful are also the
source from whence are generated the
most passionate love of virtue and the
sternest self-control. It is through the
cultivation of these that society both
does its duty and protects its interests:
E
�5°
ON LIBERTY
not by rejecting the stuff of which heroes
are made, because it knows not how to
make them. A person whose desires
and impulses are his own—are the
expressions of his own nature, as it has
been developed and modified by his
own culture—is said to have a character.
One whose desires and impulses are not
his own has no character, no more than
a steam-engine has a character. If, in
addition to being his own, his impulses
are strong, and are under the government
of a strong will, he has an energetic char
acter. Whoever thinks that individu
ality of desires and impulses should not
be encouraged to unfold itself must
maintain that society has no need of
strong natures—is not the better for
containing many persons who have much
character—and that a high general
average of energy is not desirable.
In some early states of society these
forces might be, and were, too much
ahead of the power which society then
possessed of disciplining and controlling
them. There has been a time when the
element of spontaneity and individuality
was in excess, and the social principle
had a hard struggle with it. The diffi
culty then was, to induce men of strong
bodies or minds to pay obedience to any
rules which required them to control
their impulses. To overcome this diffi
culty, law and discipline, like the Popes
struggling against the Emperors, asserted
a power over the whole man, claiming to
control all his life in order to control his
character—which society had not found
any other sufficient means of binding.
But society has now fairly got the better
of individuality; and the danger which
threatens human nature is not the ex
cess, but the deficiency, of personal
impulses and preferences. Things are
vastly changed, since the passions of
those who were strong by station or by
personal endowment were in a state of
habitual rebellion against laws and ordi
nances, and required to be rigorously
chained up to enable the persons within
their reach to enjoy any particle of secu
rity. In our times, from the highest
class of society down to the lowest,
every one lives as under the eye of a
hostile and dreaded censorship. Not only
in what concerns others, but in what con
cerns only themselves, the individual or
the family do not ask themselves—What
do I prefer ? or, What would suit my
character and disposition? or, What would
allow the best and highest in me to have
fair play, and enable it to grow and
thrive ? They ask themselves—What is
suitable to my position ? What is usually
done by persons of my station and
pecuniary circumstances? or (worse still),
What is usually done by persons of a
station and circumstances superior to
mine ? I do not mean that they choose
what is customary in preference to what
suits their own inclination. It does not
occur to them to have any inclination,
except for what is customary. Thus the
mind itself is bowed to the yoke; even
in what people do for pleasure confor
mity is the first thing thought of; they
like in crowds; they exercise choice
only among things commonly done;
peculiarity of taste, eccentricity of con
duct, are shunned equally with crimes;
until, by dint of not following their own
nature, they have no nature to follow ;
their human capacities are withered and
starved; they become incapable of any
strong wishes or native pleasures, and are
generally without either opinions or
feelings of home growth, or properly
their own. Now, is this, or is it
not, the desirable condition of human
nature?
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 51
It is so, on the Calvinistic theory. consistent with that faith to believe that
According to that, the one great offence this Being gave all human faculties that
of man is self-will. All the good of they might be cultivated and unfolded,
not rooted out and consumed, and that
which humanity is capable is comprised
in obedience. You have no choice; he takes delight in every nearer approach
thus you must do, and no otherwise; made by his creatures to the ideal con
“ whatever is not a duty is a sin.” ception embodied in them, every increase
in any of their capabilities of comprehen
Human nature being radically corrupt,
there is no redemption for any one until sion, of action, or of enjoyment. There
human nature is killed within him. To is a different type of human excellence
one holding this theory of life, crushing from the Calvinistic : a conception of
out any of the human faculties, capaci humanity as having its nature bestowed
on it for other purposes than merely to
ties, and susceptibilities is no evil; man
needs no capacity but that of surrender be abnegated. “Pagan self-assertion”
ing himself to the will of God ; and if is one of the elements of human worth,
he uses any of his faculties for any other as well as “Christian self-denial.”1 There
purpose but to do that supposed will is a Greek ideal of self-development,
more effectually, he is better without which the Platonic and Christian ideal
them. This is the theory of Calvinism; of self-government blends with, but does
and it is held, in a mitigated form, by not supersede. It may be better to be a
many who do not consider themselves John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is
Calvinists; the mitigation consisting in better to be a Pericles than either; nor
giving a less ascetic interpretation to the would a Pericles, if we had one in these
alleged will of God; asserting it to be days, be without anything good which
his will that mankind should gratify belonged to John Knox.
It is not by wearing down into uni
some of their inclinations; of course, not
in the manner they themselves prefer, formity all that is individual in them
but in the way of obedience—that is, in selves, but by cultivating it, and calling
a way prescribed to them by authority; it forth, within the limits imposed by the
and, therefore, by the necessary condition rights and interests of others, that human
beings become a noble and beautiful
of the case, the same for all.
In some such insidious form there is object of contemplation; and as the
at present a strong tendency to this works partake the character of those
narrow theory of life, and to the who do them, by the same process human
pinched and hidebound type of human life also becomes rich, diversified, and
character which it patronises. Many animating, furnishing more abundant
persons, no doubt, sincerely think that aliment to high thoughts and elevating
human beings thus cramped and dwarfed feelings, and strengthening the tie which
are as their Maker designed them to be; binds every individual to the race, by
just as many have thought that trees are making the race infinitely better worth
a much finer thing when clipped into belonging to. In proportion to the
pollards, or cut out into figures of animals, development of his individuality, each
than as nature made them. But if it be person becomes more valuable to
any part of religion to believe that man
was made by a good Being, it is more
1 Sterling’s Essays.
�52
ON LIBERTY
himself, and is therefore capable of it is only the cultivation of individ
being more valuable to others. There uality which produces, or can produce,
is a greater fulness of life about his own well-developed human beings, I might
existence, and when there is more life in here close the argument: for what more
the units there is more in the mass which or better can be said of any condition of
is composed of them. As much com human affairs than that it brings human
pression as is necessary to prevent the beings themselves nearer to the best
stronger specimens of human nature thing they can be ? Or what worse can
from encroaching on the rights of others be said of any obstruction to good than
cannot be dispensed with; but for this that it prevents this ? Doubtless, how
there is ample compensation even in the ever, these considerations will not suffice
point of view of human development. to convince those who most need con
The means of development which the vincing; and it is necessary further to
individual loses by being prevented show that these developed human beings
from gratifying his inclinations to the are of some use to the undeveloped—
injury of others are chiefly obtained at to point out to those who do not desire
the expense of the development of other liberty, and would not avail themselves
people. And even to himself there is a of it, that they may be in some intelli
full equivalent in the better development gible manner rewarded for allowing other
of the social part of his nature, rendered people to make use of it without
possible by the restraint put upon the hindrance.
selfish part. To be held to rigid rules
In the first place, then, I would
of justice for the sake of others developes ■suggest that they might possibly learn
the feelings and capacities which have something from them. It will not be
the good of others for their object. But denied by anybody that originality is
to be restrained in things not affecting a valuable element in human affairs.
their good, by their mere displeasure, There is always need of persons not
developes nothing valuable, except such only to discover new truths, and point
force of character as may unfold itself in out when what were once truths are
resisting the restraint. If acquiesced in, true no longer, but also to commence
it dulls and blunts the whole nature. new practices, and set the example of
To give any fair play to the nature of more enlightened conduct, and better
each, it is essential that different persons taste and sense in human life. This
should be allowed to lead different lives. cannot well be gainsaid by anybody
In proportion as this latitude has been who does not believe that the world has
exercised in any age, has that age been already attained perfection in all its
noteworthy to posterity. Even despotism ways and practices. It is true that this
does not produce its worst effects, so long benefit is not capable of being rendered
as individuality exists under it; and by everybody alike: there are but few
whatever crushes individuality is despot persons, in comparison with the whole
ism, by whatever name it may be called, of mankind, whose experiments, if
and whether it professes to be enforcing adopted by others, would be likely to
the will of God or the injunctions of men. be any improvement on established
Having said that individuality is the practice. But these few are the salt of
same thing with development, and that the earth; without them human life
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 53
would become a stagnant pool. Not
only is it they who introduce good things
which did not before exist; it is they who
keep the life in those which already exist.
If there were nothing new to be done,
would human intellect cease to be
necessary ? Would it be a reason why
those wrho do the old things should
forget wrhy they are done, and do them
like cattle, not like human beings?
There is only too great a tendency in
the best beliefs and practices to
degenerate into the mechanical; and
unless there were a succession of persons
whose ever-recurring originality prevents
the grounds of those beliefs and prac
tices from becoming merely traditional,
such dead matter would not resist the
smallest shock from anything really alive,
and there wrould be no reason why
civilisation should not die out, as in the
Byzantine Empire. Persons of genius,
it is true, are, and are always likely to
be, a small minority; but, in order to
have them, it is necessary to preserve
the soil in which they grow. Genius
can only breathe freely in an atmosphere
of freedom. Persons of genius are, ex
vi termini, more individual than any
other people—less capable, consequently,
of fitting themselves, without hurtful
compression, into any of the small
number of moulds which society pro
vides in order to save its members the
trouble of forming their own character.
If from timidity they consent to be
forced into one of these moulds, and to
let all that part of themselves which
cannot expand under the pressure remain
unexpanded, society will be little the
better for their genius. If they are of
a strong character, and break their
fetters, they become a mark for the
society which has not succeeded in
reducing them to commonplace, to point
out with solemn warning as “wild,”
“erratic,” and the like; much as if one
should complain of the Niagara river
for not flowing smoothly between its
banks like a Dutch canal.
I insist thus emphatically on the
importance of genius, and the necessity
of allowing it to unfold itself freely both
in thought and in practice, being well
aware that no one will deny the position
in theory, but knowing also that almost
everyone, in reality, is totally indifferent
to it. People think genius a fine thing
if it enables a man to write an exciting
poem, or paint a picture. But, in its
true sense, that of originality in thought
and action, though no one says that it is
not a thing to be admired, nearly all, at
heart, think that they can do very well
without it. Unhappily this is too natural
to be wrondered at. Originality is the
one thing which unoriginal minds cannot
feel the use of. They cannot see what
it is to do for them : how should they ?
If they could see what it would do for
them, it would not be originality. The
first service which originality has to
render them is that of opening their
eyes ; which, being once fully done, they
would have a chance of being themselves
original. Meanwhile, recollecting that
nothing wras ever yet done which some
one was not the first to do, and that all
good things which exist are the fruits of
originality, let them be modest enough
to believe that there is something still
left for it to accomplish, and assure
themselves that they are more in need
of originality the less they are conscious
of the want.
In sober truth, whatever homage may
be professed, or even paid, to real or
supposed mental superiority, the general
tendency of things throughout the world
is to render mediocrity the ascendant
�54
ON LIBERTY
power among mankind. In ancient
history, in the Middle Ages, and in a
diminishing degree through the long
transition from feudality to the present
time, the individual was a power in him
self; and if he had either great talents
or a high social position, he was a con
siderable power. At present individuals
are lost in the crowd. In politics it is
almost a triviality to say that public
opinion now rules the world. The only
power deserving the name is that of
masses, and of governments while they
make themselves the organ of the
tendencies and instincts of masses. This
is as true in the moral and social rela
tions of private life as in public tran
sactions. Those whose opinions go by
the name of public opinion are not
always the same sort of public; in
America they are the whole white
population; in England, chiefly the
middle class. But they are always a
mass—that is to say, collective medi
ocrity. And, what is a still greater
novelty, the mass do not now take their
opinions from dignitaries in Church or
State, from ostensible leaders, or from
books. Their thinking is done for
them by men much like themselves,
addressing them or speaking in their
name, on the spur of the moment,
through the newspapers. I am not com
plaining of all this. I do not assert
that anything better is compatible, as
a general rule, with the present low
state of the human mind. But that
does not hinder the government of
mediocrity from being mediocre govern
ment. No government by a democracy
or a numerous aristocracy, either in
its political acts or in the opinions,
qualities, and tone of mind which it
fosters, ever did or could rise above
mediocrity, except in so far as the
sovereign Many have let themselves be
guided (which, in their best times, they
always have done) by the counsels and
influence of a more highly gifted and
instructed One or Few. The initiation
of all wise or noble things comes, and
must come, from individuals; generally
at first from some one individual.
The honour and glory of the average
man is that he is capable of following
that initiative; that he can respond
internally to wise and noble things, and
be led to them with his eyes open.
I am not countenancing the sort of
“ hero-worship ” which applauds the
strong man of genius for forcibly seizing
on the government of the world and
making it do his bidding in spite of
itself. All he can claim is freedom to
point out the way. The power of com
pelling others into it is not only incon
sistent with the freedom and develop
ment of all the rest, but corrupting to
the strong man himself. It does seem,
however, that when the opinions of
masses of merely average men are
everywhere become or becoming the
dominant power, the counterpoise and
corrective to that tendency would be
the more and more pronounced indi
viduality of those who stand on the
higher eminences of thought. It is in
these circumstances most especially that
exceptional individuals, instead of being
deterred, should be encouraged in
acting differently from the mass. In
other times there was no advantage in
their doing so, unless they acted not
only differently, but better. In this
age the mere example of non-con
formity, the mere refusal to bend the
knee to custom, is itself a service.
Precisely because a tyranny of opinion
is such as to make eccentricity a
reproach, it is desirable, in order
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 55
to break through that tyranny, that one model. But different persons also
people should be eccentric. Eccentricity require different conditions for their
has always abounded when and where spiritual development, and can no more
strength of character has abounded ; and exist healthily in the same moral than
the amount of eccentricity in a society all the variety of plants can in the same
has generally been proportional to the physical, atmosphere and climate. The
amount of genius, mental vigour, and same things which are helps to one
moral courage it contained. That so person towards the cultivation of his
few now dare to be eccentric marks the higher nature are hindrances to another.
The same mode of life is a healthy
chief danger of the time.
I have said that it is important to give excitement to one, keeping all his faculties
the freest scope possible to uncustomary of action and enjoyment in their best
things, in order that it may in time order, while to another it is a distracting
appear which of these are fit to be con burthen, which suspends or crushes all
verted into customs. But independence internal life. Such are the differences
of action and disregard of custom are among human beings in their sources of
not solely deserving of encouragement pleasure, their susceptibilities of pain,
for the chance they afford that better and the operation on them of different
modes of action, and customs more physical and moral agencies, that, unless
worthy of general adoption, may be there is a corresponding diversity in their
struck out; nor is it only persons of modes of life, they neither obtain their
decided mental superiority who have a fair share of happiness nor grow up to
just claim to carry on their lives in their the mental, moral, and aesthetic stature
own way. There is no reason that all of which their nature is capable. Why,
human existence should be constructed then, should tolerance, as far as the
on some one or some small number of public sentiment is concerned, extend
patterns. If a person possesses any only to tastes and modes of life which
tolerable amount of common sense and extort acquiescence by the multitude of
experience, his own mode of laying out their adherents ? Nowhere (except in
his existence is the best, not because it some monastic institutions) is diversity
is the best in itself, but because it is of taste entirely unrecognised; a person
his own mode. Human beings are not may, without blame, either like or dislike
like sheep; and even sheep are not rowing, or smoking, or music, or athletic
undistinguishably alike. A man cannot exercises, or chess, or cards, or study,
get a coat or a pair of boots to fit him because both those who like each of these
unless they are either made to his things and those who dislike them are
measure or he has a whole warehouseful too numerous to be put down. But the
to choose from; and is it easier to fit man, and still more the woman, who can
him with a life than with a coat, or are be accused either of doing “ what nobody
human beings more like one another in does,” or of not doing “ what everybody
their whole physical and spiritual con does,” is the subject of as much depre
formation than in the shape of their feet? ciatory remark as if he or she had com
If it were only that people have diver mitted some grave moral delinquency.
sities of taste, that is reason enough for Persons require to possess a title, or
not attempting to shape them all after some other badge of rank, or of the
�56
ON LIBERTY
consideration of people of rank, to be able
to indulge somewhat in the luxury of
doing as they like without detriment to
their estimation. To indulge somewhat,
I repeat; for whoever allow themselves
much of that indulgence incur the risk
of something worse than disparaging
speeches—they are in peril of a com
mission de lunatico, and of having their
property taken from them and given to
their relations.1
There is one characteristic of the
present direction of public opinion,
1 There is something both contemptible and
frightful in the sort of evidence on which, of late
years, any person can be judicially declared unfit
for the management of his affairs ; and after his
death his disposal of his property can be set
aside, if there is enough of it to pay the expenses
of litigation—which are charged on the property
itself. All the minute details of his daily life
are pried into, and whatever is found which,
seen through the medium of the perceiving and
describing faculties of the lowest of the low,
bears an appearance unlike absolute common
place, is laid before the jury as evidence of
insanity, and often with success; the jurors
being little, if at all, less vulgar and ignorant
than the witnesses; while the judges, with that
extraordinary want of knowledge of human
nature and life which continually astonishes us
in English lawyers, often help to mislead them.
These trials speak volumes as to the state of
feeling and opinion among the vulgar with regard
to human liberty. So far from setting any value
on individuality—so far from respecting the right
of each individual to act, in things indifferent, as
seems good to his own judgment and inclinations,
judges and juries cannot even conceive that a
person in a state of sanity can desire such
freedom. In former days, when it was proposed
to burn atheists, charitable people used to suggest
putting them in a madhouse instead : it would
be nothing surprising nowadays were we to see
this done, and the doers applauding themselves,
because, instead of persecuting for religion, they
had adopted so humane and Christian a mode
of treating these unfortunates, not without a
silent satisfaction at their having thereby obtained
their deserts.
peculiarly calculated to make it intole
rant of any marked demonstration of
individuality. The general average of
mankind are not only moderate in in
tellect, but also moderate in inclina
tions : they have no tastes or wishes
strong enough to incline them to do
anything unusual, and they consequently
do not understand those who have,
and class all such with the wild and
intemperate whom they are accustomed
to look down upon. Now, in addition
to this fact, which is general, we have
only to suppose that a strong move
ment has set in towards the improve
ment of morals, and it is evident what
we have to expect. In these days such
a movement has set in; much has
actually been effected in the way of
increased regularity of conduct, and
discouragement of excesses; and there
is a philanthropic spirit abroad, for
the exercise of wrhich there is no
more inviting field than the moral and
prudential improvement of our fellow
creatures.
These tendencies of the
times cause the public to be more dis
posed than at most former periods to
prescribe general rules of conduct, and
endeavour to make every one conform
to the approved standard. And that
standard, express or tacit, is to desire
nothing strongly. Its ideal of character
is to be without any marked character ;
to maim by compression, like a Chinese
lady’s foot, every part of human nature
which stands out prominently, and tends
to make the person markedly dissimilar
in outline to commonplace humanity.
As is usually the case with ideals
which exclude one-half of what is de
sirable, the present standard of appro
bation produces only an inferior imita
tion of the other half. Instead of great
energies guided by vigorous reason, and
�of Individuality, as one of the elements of well-being y
strong feelings strongly controlled by a
conscientious will, its result is weak feel
ings and weak energies, which therefore
can be kept in outward conformity to
rule without any strength either of will
or of reason. Already energetic char
acters on any large scale are becoming
merely traditional. There is now scarcely
any outlet for energy in this country
except business. The energy expended
in this may still be regarded as consider
able. What little is left from that
employment is expended on some hobby ;
which may be a useful, even a philan
thropic hobby, but is always some one
thing, and generally a thing of small
dimensions. The greatness of England
is now all collective : individually small,
we only appear capable of anything
great by our habit of combining; and
with this our moral and religious philan
thropists are perfectly contented. But
it was men of another stamp than this
that made England what it has been;
and men of another stamp will be needed
to prevent its decline.
The despotism of custom is every
where the standing hindrance to human
advancement, being in unceasing an
tagonism to that disposition to aim at
something better than customary, which
is called, according to circumstances,
the spirit of liberty, or that of progress
or improvement. The spirit of improve
ment is not always a spirit of liberty,
for it may aim at forcing improvements
on an unwilling people; and the spirit of
liberty, insofar as it resists such attempts,
may ally itself locally and temporarily
with the opponents of improvement;
but the only unfailing and permanent
source of improvement is liberty, since
by it there are as many possible indepen
dent centres of improvement as there are
individuals. The progressive principle,
however, in either shape, whether as the
love of liberty or of improvement, is
antagonistic to the sway of Custom,
involving at least emancipation from
that yoke; and the contest between the
two constitutes the chief interest of the
history of mankind. The greater part of
the world has, properly speaking, no
history, because the despotism of Custom
is complete. This is the case over the
whole East. Custom is there, in all
things, the final appeal; justice and right
mean conformity to custom; the argu
ment of custom no one, unless some
tyrant intoxicated with power, thinks of
resisting. And we see the result. Those
nations must once have had originality ;
they did not start out of the ground
populous, lettered, and versed in many of
the arts of life; they made themselves
all this, and were then the greatest and
most powerful nations of the world.
What are they now ? The subjects or
dependents of tribes whose forefathers
wandered in the forests when theirs had
magnificent palacesand gorgeous temples,
but over whom custom exercised only a
divided rule with liberty and progress.
A people, it appears, may be progressive
for a certain length of time, and then
stop: when does it stop? When it
ceases to possess individuality. If a
similar change should befall the nations
of Europe, it will not be in exactly the
same shape: the despotism of custom
with which these nations are threatened
is not precisely stationariness. It pro
scribes singularity, but it does not
preclude change, provided all change
together. We have discarded the fixed
costumes of our forefathers: everyone
must still dress like other people, but the
fashion may change once or twice a year.
We thus take care that, when there is a
change, it shall be for change’s sake, and
�58
ON LIBERTY
not from any idea of beauty or con
venience; for the same idea of beauty
or convenience would not strike all the
world at the same moment, and be
simultaneously thrown aside by all at
another moment. But we are progressive
as well as changeable : we continually
make new inventions in mechanical
things, and keep them until they are
again superseded by better; we are eager
for improvement in politics, in education,
even in morals, though in this last our
idea of improvement chiefly consists in
persuading or forcing other people to be
as good as ourselves. It is not progress
that we object to ; on the contrary, we
flatter ourselves that we are the most
progressive people who ever lived. It
is individuality that we war against:
we should think we had done wonders
if we had made ourselves all alike;
forgetting that the unlikeness of one
person to another is generally the first
thing which draws the attention of
either to the imperfection of his own
type, and the superiority of another, or
the possibility, by combining the ad
vantages of both, of producing some
thing better than either. We have a
warning example in China—a nation
of much talent, and, in some respects,
even wisdom, owing to the rare good
fortune of having been provided at an
early period with a particularly good
set of customs, the work, in some
measure, of men to whom even the most
enlightened European must accord,
under certain limitations, the title of sages
and philosophers. They are remark
able, too, in the excellence of their
apparatus for impressing, as far as pos
sible, the best wisdom they possess
upon every mind in the community,
and securing that those who have ap
propriated most of it shall occupy the
posts of honour and power. Surely the
people who did this have discovered
the secret of human progressiveness,
and must have kept themselves steadily
at the head of the movement of the
world. On the contrary, they have
become stationary—have remained so
for thousands of years ; and if they are
ever to be farther improved, it must be
by foreigners. They have succeeded
beyond all hope in what English philan
thropists are so industriously working at
—in making a people all alike, all
governing their thoughts and conduct by
the same maxims and rules; and these
are the fruits. The modern regime of
public opinion is, in an unorganised
form, what the Chinese educational and
political systems are in an organised; and
unless individuality shall be able success
fully to assert itself against this yoke,
Europe, notwithstanding its noble ante
cedents and its professed Christianity,
will tend to become another China.
What is it that has hitherto preserved
Europe from this lot ? What has made
the European family of nations an im
proving, instead of a stationary, portion
of mankind ? Not any superior excellence
in them, which, when it exists, exists as
the effect, not as the cause; but their
remarkable diversity of character and
culture. Individuals, classes, nations,
have been extremely unlike one another;
they have struck out a great variety of
paths, each leading to something valu
able ; and although at every period
those who travelled in different paths
have been intolerant of one another,
and each would have thought it an ex
cellent thing if all the rest could have
been compelled to travel his road, their
attempts to thwart each other’s develop
ment have rarely had any permanent
success, and each has in time endured
�OF INDIVIDUALITY, AS ONE OF THE ELEMENTS OF WELL-BEING 59
to receive the good which the others
have offered. Europe is, in my judg
ment, wholly indebted to this plurality
of paths for its progressive and manysided 'development.
But it already
begins to possess this benefit in a con
siderably less degree. It is decidedly
advancing towards the Chinese ideal of
making all people alike. M. de Toc
queville, in his last important work,
remarks how much more the French
men of the present day resemble one
another than did those even of the last
generation. The same remark might be
made of Englishmen in a far greater
degree. In a passage already quoted from
Wilhelm von Humboldt, he points out
two things as necessary conditions of
human development, because necessary
to render people unlike one another;
namely, freedom, and variety of situa
tions. The second of these two con
ditions is in this country every day
diminishing. The circumstances which
surround different classes and indivi
duals, and shape their characters, are
daily becoming more assimilated. For
merly, different ranks, different neigh
bourhoods, different trades and pro
fessions, lived in what might be called
different worlds; at present, to a great
degree in the same. Comparatively
speaking, they now read the same
things, listen to the same things, see
the same things, go to the same places,
have their hopes and fears directed
to the same objects, have the same
rights and liberties, and the same means
of asserting them. Great as are the
differences of position which remain,
they are nothing to those which have
ceased. And the assimilation is still
proceeding. All the political changes
of the age promote it, since they all
tend to raise the low and to lower
the high. Every extension of educa
tion promotes it, because education
brings people under common influences,
and gives them access to the general
stock of facts and sentiments. Improve
ment in the means of communication
promotes it, by bringing the inhabitants
of distant places into personal contact,
and keeping up a rapid flow of changes
of residence between one place and
another. The increase of commerce and
manufactures promotes it, by diffusing
more widely the advantages of easy
circumstances, and opening all objects
of ambition, even the highest, to general
competition, whereby the desire of rising
becomes no longer the character of a
particular class, but of all classes. A
more powerful agency than even all these,
in bringing about a general similarity
among mankind, is the complete estab
lishment, in this and other free coun
tries, of the ascendancy of public opinion
in the State. As the various social
eminences which enabled persons en
trenched on them to disregard the
opinion of the multitude gradually be
come levelled; as the very idea of
resisting the will of the public, when it
is positively known that they have a will,
disappears more and more from the
minds of practical politicians; there
ceases to be any social support for non
conformity—any substantive power in
society, which, itself opposed to the ascen
dancy of numbers, is interested in taking
under its protection opinions and tenden
cies at variance with those of the public.
The combination of all these causes
forms so great a mass of influences
hostile to individuality that it is not
easy to see how it can stand its ground.
It will do so with increasing difficulty,
unless the intelligent part of the public
can be made to feel its value—to see
�6o
ON LIBERTY
that it is good there should be differences,
even though not for the better; even
though, as it may appear to them, some
should be for the worse. If the claims
of individuality are ever to be asserted,
the time is now, while much is still
wanting to complete the enforced assimi
lation. It is only in the earlier stages
that any stand can be successfully made
against the encroachment. The demand
that all other people shall resemble our
selves grows by what it feeds on. If
resistance waits till life is reduced nearly
to one uniform type, all deviations from
that type will come to be considered
impious, immoral, even monstrous and
contrary to nature. Mankind speedily
become unable to conceive diversity,
when they have been for some time
unaccustomed to see it.
Chapter IV.
OF THE LIMITS TO THE AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY
OVER THE INDIVIDUAL
What, then, is the rightful limit to the
sovereignty of the individual over him
self? Where does the authority of
society begin ? How much of human
life should be assigned to individuality,
and how much to society ?
Each will receive its proper shape, if
each has that which more particularly
concerns it. To individuality should
belong the part of life in which it is
chiefly the individual that is interested;
to society, the part which chiefly interests
society.
Though society is not founded on a
contract, and though no good purpose is
answered by inventing a contract in order
to deduce social obligations from it, every
one who receives the protection of society
owes a return for the benefit, and the
fact of living in society renders it
indispensable that each should be bound
to observe a certain line of conduct towards
the rest. This conduct consists, first, in I
not injuring the interests of one another;
or rather certain interests, which, either
by express legal provision or by tacit
understanding, ought to be considered
as rights; and secondly, in each person’s
bearing his share (to be fixed on some
equitable principle) of the labours and
sacrifices incurred for defending the
society or its members from injury and
molestation. These conditions society
is justified in enforcing, at all costs to
those who endeavour to withhold fulfil
ment. Nor is this all that society may
do. The acts of an individual may be
hurtful to others, or wanting in due con
sideration for their welfare, without going
to the length of violating any of their
constituted rights. The offender may
then be justly punished by opinion,
though not by law. As soon as any part
of a person’s conduct affects prejudicially
the interests of others, society has jurisdiction over it, and the question whether
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL 61
the general welfare will or will not be
promoted by interfering with it becomes
open to discussion. But there is no
room for entertaining any such question
when a person’s conduct affects the
interests of no persons besides himself,
or needs not affect them unless they like
(all the persons concerned being of full
age and the ordinary amount of under
standing). In all such cases there should
be perfect freedom, legal and social, to
do the action and stand the conse
quences.
It would be a great misunderstanding
of this doctrine to suppose that it is one
of selfish indifference, which pretends
that human beings have no business
with each other’s conduct in life, and
that they should not concern themselves
about the well-doing or well-being of one
another, unless their own interest is
involved. Instead of any diminution,
there is need of a great increase of
disinterested exertion to promote the
good of others. But disinterested bene
volence can find other instruments to
persuade people to their good than
whips and scourges, either of the literal
or the metaphorical sort. I am the last
person to undervalue the self-regarding
virtues; they are only second in impor
tance, if even second, to the social. It
is equally the business of education to
cultivate both. But even education
works by conviction and persuasion as
well as by compulsion, and it is by the
former only that, when the period of
education is passed, the self-regarding
virtues should be inculcated. Human
beings owe to each other help to dis
tinguish the better from the worse, and
encouragement to choose the former
and avoid the latter. They should be for
ever stimulating each other to increased
exercise of their higher faculties, and
increased direction of their feelings and
aims towards wise instead of foolish,
elevating instead of degrading, objects
and contemplations. But neither one
person, nor any number of persons, is
warranted in saying to another human
creature of ripe years that he shall not
do with his life for his own benefit what
he chooses to do with it. He is the
person most interested in his own well
being : the interest which any other
person, except in cases of strong personal
attachment, can have in it, is trifling,
compared with that which he himself
has; the interest which society has in
him individually (except as to his conduct
to others) is fractional, and altogether
indirect: while with respect to his own
feelings and circumstances, the most
ordinary man or woman has means of
knowledge immeasurably surpassing those
that can be possessed by anyone else.
The interference of society to overrule
his judgment and purposes in what only
regards himself must be grounded on
general presumptions; which may be
altogether wrong, and, even if right, are
as likely as not to be misapplied to indi
vidual cases, by persons no better
acquainted with the circumstances of
such cases than those are who look at
them merely from without. In this
department, therefore, of human affairs
individuality has its proper field of
action. In the conduct of human
beings towards one another it is neces
sary that general rules should for the
most part be observed, in order that
people may know what they have to
expect; but in each person’s own con
cerns his individual spontaneity is
entitled to free exercise. Considera
tions to aid his judgment, exhortations
to strengthen his will, may be offered to
him, even obtruded on him, by others;
�62
ON LIBERTY
but he himself is the final judge. All
errors which he is likely to commit
against advice and warning are far
outweighed by the evil of allowing
others to constrain him to what they
deem his good.
I do not mean that the feelings with
which a person is regarded by others
ought not to be in any way affected
by his self-regarding qualities or defi
ciencies. This is neither possible nor
desirable. If he is eminent in any of
the qualities which conduce to his own
good, he is, so far, a proper object of
admiration. He is so much the nearer
to the ideal perfection of human nature.
If he is grossly deficient in those qualities,
a sentiment the opposite of admiration
will follow. There is a degree of folly,
and a degree of what may be called
(though the phrase is not unobjection
able) lowness or depravation of taste,
which, though it cannot justify doing
harm to the person who manifests it,
renders him necessarily and properly a
subject of distaste, or, in extreme cases,
even of contempt: a person could not
have the opposite qualities in due
strength without entertaining these
feelings. Though doing no wrong to
anyone, a person may so act as to
compel us to judge him, and feel to him,
as a fool, or as a being of an inferior
order: and since this judgment and
feeling are a fact which he would prefer
to avoid, it is doing him a service to
warn him of it beforehand, as of any
other disagreeable consequence to which
he exposes himself. It would be well,
indeed, if this good office were much
more freely rendered than the common
notions of politeness at present permit,
and if one person could honestly point
out to another that he thinks him in fault,
without being considered unmannerly
or presuming. We have a right also, in
various ways, to act upon our unfavour
able opinion of anyone, not to the
oppression of his individuality, but in
the exercise of ours. We are not bound,
for example, to seek his society: we have
a right to avoid it (though not to parade
the avoidance), for we have a right to
choose the society most acceptable to us.
We have a right, and it may be our duty,
to caution others against him, if we think
his example or conversation likely to
have a pernicious effect on those with
whom he associates. We may give others
a preference over him in optional good
offices, except those which tend to his
improvement. In these various modes
a person may suffer very severe penalties
at the hands of others, for faults which
directly concern only himself; but he
suffers these penalties only insofar as they
are the natural, and, as it were, the
spontaneous, consequences of the faults
themselves, not because they are
purposely inflicted on him for the sake
of punishment. A person who shows
rashness, obstinacy, self-conceit—who
cannot live within moderate means—
who cannot, restrain himself from hurtful
indulgences — who pursues animal
pleasures at the expense of those of
feeling and intellect—must expect to be
lowered in the opinion of others, and to
have a less share of their favourable
sentiments; but of this he has no right
to complain, unless he has merited their
favour by special excellence in his social
relations, and has thus established a title
to their good offices, which is not
affected by his demerits towards himself.
What I contend for is that the incon
veniences which are strictly inseparable
from the unfavourable judgment of others
are the only ones to which a person
should ever be subjected for that portion
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL 63
of his conduct and character which
concerns his own good, but which does
not affect the interests of others in their
relations with him. Acts injurious to
others require a totally different treat
ment. Encroachment on their rights;
infliction on them of any loss or damage
not justified by his own rights; falsehood
or duplicity in dealing with them; unfair
or ungenerous use of advantages over
them: even selfish abstinence from
defending them against injury—these
are fit objects of moral reprobation,
and, in grave cases, of moral retribution
and punishment. And not only these
acts, but the dispositions which lead to
them, are properly immoral, and fit
subjects of disapprobation, which may
rise to abhorrence. Cruelty of dis
position ; malice and ill-nature; that
most anti-social and odious of all
passions, envy; dissimulation and in
sincerity; irascibility on insufficient cause,
and resentment disproportioned to the
provocation; the love of domineering
over others; the desire to engross more
than one’s share of advantages (the
TrXeove^ta of the Greeks); the pride
which derives gratification from the
abasement of others; the egotism which
thinks self and its concerns more impor
tant than everything else, and decides all
doubtful questions in its own favour—
these are moral vices, and constitute a
bad and odious moral character : unlike
the self-regarding faults previously men
tioned, which are not properly immorali
ties, and, to whatever pitch they may be
carried, do not constitute wickedness.
They may be proofs of any amount of
folly, or want of personal dignity and
self-respect; but they are only a subject
of moral reprobation when they involve
a breach of duty to others, for whose
sake the individual is bound to have care
for himself. What are called duties to
ourselves are not socially obligatory,
unless circumstances render them at
the same time duties to others. The
term duty to oneself, when it means
anything more than prudence, means
self-respect or self-development; and
for none of these is anyone accountable
to his fellow-creatures, because for none
of them is it for the good of mankind
that he be held accountable to them.
The distinction between the loss of
consideration which a person may
rightly incur by defect of prudence or
of personal dignity, and the reproba
tion which is due to him for an offence
against the rights of others, is not a
merely nominal distinction. It makes
a vast difference both in our feelings
and in our conduct towards him, whether
he displeases us in things in which we
think we have a right to control him or
in things in which we know that we have
not. If he displeases us, we may express
our distaste, and we may stand aloof
from a person as well as from a thing
that displeases us; but we shall not,
therefore, feel called on to make his life
uncomfortable. We shall reflect that he
already bears, or will bear, the whole
penalty of his error; if he spoils his life
by mismanagement, we shall not, for
that reason, desire to spoil it still further :
instead of wishing to punish him, we
shall rather endeavour to alleviate his
punishment, by showing him how he
may avoid or cure the evils his conduct
tends to bring upon him. He may be
to us an object of pity, perhaps of
dislike, but not of anger or resentment;
we shall not treat him like an enemy of
society: the worst we shall think our
selves justified in doing is leaving him to
himself, if we do not interfere benevo
lently by showing interest or concern for
a
�64
ON LIBERTY
him. It is far otherwise if he has in
fringed the rules necessary for the
protection of his fellow-creatures, in
dividually or collectively.
The evil
consequences of his acts do not then fall
on himself, but on others; and society,
as the protector of all its members, must
retaliate on him; must inflict pain on
him for the express purpose of punish
ment, and must take care that it be
sufficiently severe. In the one case, he
is an offender at our bar, and we are
called on not only to sit in judgment on
him, but, in one shape or another, to
execute our own sentence; in the other
case, it is not our part to inflict any
suffering on him, except what may inci
dentally follow from our using the same
liberty in the regulation of our own
affairs which we allow to him in his.
The distinction here pointed out
between the part of a person’s life which
concerns only himself and that which
concerns others many persons will
refuse to admit. How (it may be asked)
can any part of the conduct of a member
of society be a matter of indifference to
the other members? No person is an
entirely isolated being; it is impossible
for a person to do anything seriously
or permanently hurtful to himself, with
out mischief reaching at least to his near
connections, and often far beyond them.
If he injures his property, he does harm
to those who directly or indirectly
derived support from it, and usually
diminishes, by a greater or less amount,
the general resources of the community.
If he deteriorates his bodily or mental
faculties, he not only brings evil upon all
who depended on him for any portion
of their happiness, but disqualifies him
self for rendering the services which he
owes to his fellow-creatures generally;
perhaps becomes a burthen on their
affection or benevolence; and, if such Iddff
conduct were very frequent, hardly any Lrir
offence that is committed would detract'fiori
more from the general sum of good. |.b’w
Finally, if by his vices or follies a person Lhcra
does no direct harm to others, he is,
nevertheless (it may be said), injurious ;>ire
by his example—and ought to be com ■■mi
pelled to control himself, for the sake of . to'■:Lthose whom the sight or knowledge of ‘Id?
his conduct might corrupt or mislead.
And even (it will be added) if the
consequences of misconduct could be
confined to the vicious or thoughtless
individual, ought society to abandon to
their own guidance those who are mani
festly unfit for it ? If protection against
themselves is confessedly due to children
and persons under age, is not society
equally bound to afford it to persons of
mature years who are equally incapable
of self-government? If gambling, or
drunkenness, or incontinence, or idle
ness, or uncleanliness, are as injurious
to happiness, and as great a hindrance
to improvement, as many or most of the
acts prohibited by law, why (it may be
asked) should not law, so far as is con
sistent with practicability and social
convenience, endeavour to repress these
also? And as a supplement to the
unavoidable imperfections of law, ought
b
not opinion at least to organise a
powerful police against these vices, and
visit rigidly with social penalties those
who are known to practise them ? There
is no question here (it may be said) about
restricting individuality, or impeding the
trial of new and original experiments in
living. The only things it is sought to
prevent are things which have been tried
and condemned from the beginning of
the world until now; things which experi
ence has shown not to be useful or
suitable to any person’s individuality.
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL 65
There must be some length of time and
amount of experience after which a
moral or prudential truth may be
regarded as established; and it is merely
desired to prevent generation after
generation from falling over the same
precipice which has been fatal to their
predecessors.
I fully admit that the mischief which
a person does to himself may seriously
affect, both through their sympathies
and their interests, those nearly con
nected with him, and, in a minor degree,
society at large. When, by conduct of
this sort, a person is led to violate a
distinct and assignable obligation to
any other person or persons, the case
is taken out of the self-regarding class,
and becomes amenable to moral disap
probation in the proper sense of the
term. If, for example, a man, through
intemperance or extravagance, becomes
unable to pay his debts, or, having
undertaken the moral responsibility of a
family, becomes from the same cause
incapable of supporting or educating
them, he is deservedly reprobated, and
might be justly punished; but it is for
the breach of duty to his family or
creditors, not for the extravagance. If
the resources which ought to have been
devoted to them had been diverted
from them for the most prudent invest
ment, the moral culpability would have
been the same. George Barnwell
murdered his uncle to get money for
his mistress; but if he had done it to
set himself up in business, he would
equally have been hanged. Again, in
the frequent case of a man who causes
grief to his family by addiction to bad
habits, he deserves reproach for his
unkindness or ingratitude; but so he
may for cultivating habits not in them
selves vicious, if they are painful to
those with whom he passes his life, or
who from personal ties are dependent
on him for their comfort. Whoever fails
in the consideration generally due to the
interests and feelings of others, not
being compelled by some more impera
tive duty, or justified by allowable self
preference, is a subject of moral disap
probation for that failure, but not for the
cause of it, nor for the errors, merely
personal to himself, which may have
remotely led to it. In like manner,
when a person disables himself, by
conduct purely self-regarding, from the
performance of some definite duty
incumbent on him to the public, he is
guilty of a social offence. No person
ought to be punished simply for being
drunk; but a soldier or a policeman
should be punished for being drunk on
duty. Whenever, in short, there is a
definite damage, or a definite risk of
damage, either to an individual or to
the public, the case is taken out of the
province of liberty, and placed in that
of morality or law.
But with regard to the merely con
tingent, or, as it may be called, con
structive injury which a person causes
to society, by conduct which neither
violates any specific duty to the public
nor occasions perceptible hurt to any
assignable individual except himself,
the inconvenience is one which society
can afford to bear, for the sake of the
greater good of human freedom. If
grown persons are to be punished for
not taking proper care of themselves, I
would rather it were for their own sake,
than under pretence of preventing them
from impairing their capacity of render
ing to society benefits which society does
not pretend it has a right to exact. But
I cannot consent to argue the point as if
society had no means of bringing its
F
�66
ON LIBERTY
weaker members up to its ordinary
standard of rational conduct, except
waiting till they do something irrational,
and then punishing them, legally or
morally, for it. Society has had absolute
power over them during all the early
portion of their existence: it has had the
whole period of childhood and nonage
in which to try whether it could make
them capable of rational conduct in life.
The existing generation is master both of
the training and the entire circumstances
of the generation to come; it cannot
indeed make them perfectly wise and
good, because it is itself so lamentably
deficient in goodness and wisdom; and
its best efforts are not always, in individual
cases, its most successful ones; but it is
perfectly well able to make the rising
generation, as a whole, as good as, and a
little better than, itself. If society lets
any considerable number of its members
grow up mere children, incapable of
being acted on by rational consideration
of distant motives, society has itself to
blame for the consequences. Armed
not only with all the powers of education,
but with the ascendancy which the
authority of a received opinion always
exercises over the minds who are least
fitted to judge for themselves; and aided
by the natural penalties which cannot be
prevented from falling on those who incur
the distaste or the contempt of those who
know them ; let not society pretend that
it needs, besides all this, the power to
issue commands and enforce obedience
in the personal concerns of individuals,
in which, on all principles of justice and
policy, the decision Qught to rest with
those who are to abide the consequences.
Nor is there anything which tends more
to discredit and frustrate the better means
of influencing conduct than a resort to
the worse. If there be among those
whom it is attempted to coerce into
prudence or temperance any of the
material of which vigorous and inde
pendent characters are made, they will
infallibly rebel against the yoke. No
such person will ever feel that others
have a right to control him in his con
cerns, such as they have to prevent him
from injuring them in theirs; and it
easily comes to be considered a mark
of spirit and courage to fly in the face
of such usurped authority, and do with
ostentation the exact opposite of what it
enjoins; as in the fashion of grossness
which succeeded, in the time of Charles
II., to the fanatical moral intolerance of
the Puritans. With respect to what is
said of the necessity of protecting society
from the bad example set to others by
the vicious or the self-indulgent, it is
true that bad example may have a perni
cious effect, especially the example of
doing wrong to others with impunity to
the wrong-doer. But we are now speak
ing of conduct which, while it does no
wrong to others, is supposed to do great
harm to the agent himself; and I do
not see how those who believe this can
think otherwise than that the example,
on the whole, must be more salutary
than hurtful, since, if it displays the mis
conduct, it displays also the painful or
degrading consequences which, if the
conduct is justly censured, must be sup
posed to be in all or most cases attendant
on it.
But the strongest of all the arguments
against the interference of the public
with purely personal conduct is that,
when it does interfere, the odds are that
it interferes wrongly, and in the wrong
place. On questions of social morality, of
duty to others, the opinion of the public
—that is, of an overruling majority—•
though often wrong, is likely to be still
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL
oftener right; because on such questions
they are only required to judge of their
own interests ; of the manner in which
some mode of conduct, if allowed to be
practised, would affect themselves. But
the opinion of a similar majority, imposed
as a law on the minority, on questions of
self-regarding conduct, is quite as likely
to be wrong as right; for in these cases
public opinion means, at the best, some
people’s opinion of what is good or bad
for other people ; while very often it does
not even mean that; the public, with the
most perfect indifference, passing over
the pleasure or convenience of those
whose conduct they censure, and con
sidering only their own preference.
There are many who consider as an
injury to themselves any conduct which
they have a distaste for, and resent it as
an outrage to their feelings; as a religious
bigot, when charged with disregarding
the religious feelings of others, has been
known to retort that they disregard his
feelings, by persisting in their abominable
worship or creed. But there is no parity
between the feeling of a person for his
own opinion and the feeling of another
who is offended at his holding it; no
more than between the desire of a thief
to take a purse and the desire of the
right owner to keep it. And a person’s
taste is as much his own peculiar concern
as his opinion or his purse. It is easy
for anyone to imagine an ideal public,
which leaves the freedom and choice of
individuals in all uncertain matters
undisturbed, and only requires them to
abstain from modes of conduct which
universal experience has condemned.
But where has there been seen a public
which set any such limit to its censorship?
or when does the public trouble itself
about universal experience ? In its inter
ferences with personal conduct it is
67
seldom thinking of anything but the
enormity of acting or feeling differently
from itself; and this standard of judg
ment, thinly disguised, is held up to
mankind as the dictate of religion and
philosophy by nine-tenths of all moralists
and speculative writers. These teach
that things are right because they are
right; because we feel them to be so.
They tell us to search in our own minds
and hearts for laws of conduct binding
on ourselves and on all others. What
can the poor public do but apply these
instructions, and make their own personal
feelings of good and evil, if they are
tolerably unanimous in them, obligatory
on all the world ?
The evil here pointed out is not one
which exists only in theory; and it may,
perhaps, be expected that I should
specify the instances in which the public
of this age and country improperly
invests its own preferences with the
character of moral laws. I am not
writing an essay on the aberrations of
existing moral feeling. That is too
weighty a subject to be discussed paren
thetically, and by way of illustration.
Yet examples are necessary, to show that
the principle I maintain is of serious and
practical moment, and that I am not
endeavouring to erect a barrier against
imaginary evils. And it is not difficult
to show, by abundant instances, that to
extend the bounds of what may be called
moral police, until it encroaches on the
most unquestionably legitimate liberty
of the individual, is one of the most
universal of all human propensities.
As a first instance, consider the anti
pathies which men cherish on no better
grounds than that persons whose religious
opinions are different from theirs do not
practise their religious observances,
especially their religious abstinences. To
�68
ON LIBERTY
cite a rather trivial example, nothing in the
creed or practice of Christians does more
to envenom the hatred of Mohamme
dans against them than the fact of their
eating pork. There are few acts which
Christians and Europeans regard with
more unaffected disgust than Mussulmans
regard this particular mode of satisfying
hunger. It is, in the first place, an
offence against their religion; but this
circumstance by no means explains
either the degree or the kind of their
repugnance; for wine also is forbidden
by their religion, and to partake of it
is by all Mussulmans accounted wrong,
but not disgusting. Their aversion to
the flesh of the “ unclean beast ” is, on
the contrary, of that peculiar character
resembling an instinctive antipathy which
the idea of uncleanness, when once it
thoroughly sinks into the feelings, seems
always to excite even in those whose
personal habits are anything but scrupu
lously cleanly, and of which the senti
ment of religious impurity, so intense in
the Hindoos, is a remarkable example.
Suppose, now, that in a people of whom
the majority were Mussulmans, that
majority should insist upon not per
mitting pork to be eaten within the
limits of the country. This would be
nothing new in Mohammedan countries.1
Would it be a legitimate exercise of the
moral authority of public opinion? and
if not, why not ? The practice is really
1 The case of the Bombay Parsees is a curious
instance in point. When this industrious and
enterprising tribe, the descendants of the Persian
fire-worshippers, flying from their native country
before the Caliphs, arrived in Western India,
they were admitted to toleration by the Hindoo
sovereigns, on condition of not eating beef.
When those regions afterwards fell under the
dominion of Mohammedan conquerors, the Parsees
obtained from them a continuance of indulgence,
on condition of refraining from pork. What was
revolting to such a public. They also
sincerely think that it is forbidden and
abhorred by the Deity. Neither could
the prohibition be censured as religious
persecution. It might be religious in its
origin ; but it would not be persecution
for religion, since nobody’s religion makes
it a duty to eat pork. The only tenable
ground of condemnation would be that
with the personal tastes and self-regarding
concerns of individuals the public has
no business to interfere.
To come somewhat nearer home : the
majority of Spaniards consider it a gross
impiety, offensive in the highest degree
to the Supreme Being, to worship him
in any other manner than the Roman
Catholic; and no other public worship
is lawful on Spanish soil. The people of
all Southern Europe look upon a married
clergy as not only irreligious, but un
chaste, indecent, gross, disgusting. What
do Protestants think of these perfectly
sincere feelings, and of the attempt to
enforce them against non-Catholics ?
Yet, if mankind are justified in inter
fering with each other’s liberty in things
which do not concern the interests of
others, on what principle is it possible
consistently to exclude these cases? or
who can blame people for desiring to
suppress what they regard as a scandal
in the sight of God and man? No
stronger case can be shown for prohibit
ing anything which is regarded as a
personal immorality than is made out
for suppressing these practices in the
eyes of those who regard them as im
pieties ; and unless we are willing to
at first obedience to authority became a second
nature, and the Parsees to this day abstain both
from beef and pork. Though not required by
their religion, the double abstinence has had
time to grow into a custom of their tribe—and
custom in the East is a religion.
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL Gg
adopt the logic of persecutors, and to say
that we may persecute others because we
are right, and that they must not persecute
us because they are wrong, we must
beware of admitting a principle of which
we should resent as a gross injustice the
application to ourselves.
The preceding instances may be ob
jected to, although unreasonably, as
drawn from contingencies impossible
among us : opinion, in this country, not
being likely to enforce abstinence from
meats, or to interfere with people for
worshipping, and for either marrying or
not marrying, according to their creed or
inclination. The next example, however,
shall be taken from an interference with
liberty which we have by no means
passed all danger of. Wherever the
Puritans have been sufficiently powerful,
as in New England, and in Great Britain
at the time of the Commonwealth, they
have endeavoured, with considerable
success, to put down all public, and
nearly all private, amusements: especially
music, dancing, public games, or other
assemblages for purposes of diversion,
and the theatre. There are still in this
country large bodies of persons by whose
notions of morality and religion these
recreations are condemned; and those
persons belonging chiefly to the middle
class, who are the ascendant power in
the present social and political condition
of the kingdom, it is by no means im
possible that persons of these sentiments
may at some time or other command a
majority in Parliament. How will the
remaining portion of the community like
to have the amusements that shall be
permitted to them regulated by the reli
gious and moral sentiments of the stricter
Calvinists and Methodists? Would they
not, with considerable peremptoriness,
desire these intrusively pious members of
society to mind their own business ?
This is precisely what should be said to
every Government and every public who
have the pretension that no person shall
enjoy any pleasure which they think
wrong. But if the principle of the pre
tension be admitted, no one can reason
ably object to its being acted on in the
sense of the majority, or other prepon
derating power in the country; and all
persons must be ready to conform to the
idea of a Christian commonwealth, as
understood by the early settlers in New
England, if a religious profession similar
to theirs should ever succeed in regaining
its lost ground, as religions supposed to be
declining have so often been known to do.
To imagine another contingency, per
haps more likely to be realised than the
one last mentioned. There is confessedly
a strong tendency in the modern world
towards a democratic constitution of
society, accompanied or not by popular
political institutions. It is affirmed that
in the country where this tendency ismost completely realised—where both
society and the Government are most
democratic—the United States—the feel
ing of the majority, to whom any appear
ance of a more showy or costly style of
living than they can hope to rival is dis
agreeable, operates as a tolerably effectual
sumptuary law, and that in many parts
of the Union it is really difficult for a
person possessing a very large income
to find any mode of spending it which
will not incur popular disapprobation.
Though such statements as these are
doubtless much exaggerated as a repre
sentation of existing facts, the state of
things they describe is not only a con
ceivable and possible, but a probable,
result of democratic feeling, combined
with the notion that the public has a
right to a veto on the manner in which
�7°
ON LIBERTY
individuals shall spend their incomes.
We have only further to suppose a con
siderable diffusion of Socialist opinions,
and it may become infamous in the eyes
of the majority to possess more property
than some very small amount, or any
income not earned by manual labour.
Opinions similar in principle to these
already prevail widely among the artisan
class, and weigh oppressively on those
who are amenable to the opinion chiefly
of that class—namely, its own members.
It is known that the bad workmen, who
form the majority of the operatives in
many branches of industry, are decidedly
of opinion that bad workmen ought to
receive the same wages as good, and that
no one ought to be allowed, through
piecework or otherwise, to earn by supe
rior skill or industry more than others
■ can without it. And they employ a
moral police which occasionally becomes
. a physical one, to deter skilful workmen
from receiving, and employers from
giving, a larger remuneration for a more
useful service. If the public have any
jurisdiction over private concerns, I
cannot see that these people are in fault,
or that any individual’s particular public
can be blamed for asserting the same
authority over his individual conduct
which the general public asserts over
people in general.
But, without dwelling upon suppositi
tious cases, there are, in our own day,
gross usurpations upon the liberty of
private life actually practised, and still
greater ones threatened with some expec
tation of success, and opinions pro
pounded which assert an unlimited right
in the public not only to prohibit by law
everything which it thinks wrong, but, in
order to get at what it thinks wrong, to
prohibit a number of things which it
admits to be innocent.
Under the name of preventing in
temperance, the people of one English
colony, and of nearly half the United
States, have been interdicted by law from
making any use whatever of fermented
drinks, except for medical purposes : for
prohibition of their sale is in fact, as it is
intended to be, prohibition of their use.
And though the impracticability of
executing the law has caused its repeal
in several of the States which had
adopted it, including the one from which
it derives its name, an attempt has not
withstanding been commenced, and is
prosecuted with considerable zeal by
many of the professed philanthropists, to
agitate for a similar law in this country.
The association, or “Alliance” as it
terms itself, which has been formed for
this purpose, has acquired some notoriety
through the publicity given to a corres
pondence between its secretary and one
of the very few English public men who
hold that a politician’s opinions ought to
be founded on principles. Lord Stanley’s
share in this correspondence is cal
culated to strengthen the hopes already
built on him by those who know how
rare such qualities as are manifested in
some of his public appearances un
happily are among those who figure in
political life. The organ of the Alliance,
who would “ deeply deplore the recog
nition of any principle which could be
wrested to justify bigotry and persecu
tion,” undertakes to point out the “broad
and impassable barrier ” which divides
such principles from those of the associa
tion. “All matters relating to thought,
opinion, conscience, appear to me,” he
says, “to be without the sphere of legis
lation ; all pertaining to social act, habit,
relation, subject only to a discretionary
power vested in the State itself, and not
in the individual, to be within it.” No
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL 71
mention is made of a third class, different
from either of these—viz., acts and habits
which are not social, but individual;
although it is to this class, surely, that
the act of drinking fermented liquors
belongs.
Selling fermented liquors,
however, is trading, and trading is a
social act. But the infringement com
plained of is not on the liberty of the
seller, but on that of the buyer and
consumer; since the State might just
as well forbid him to drink wine as
purposely make it impossible for him
to obtain it. The secretary, however,
says : “ I claim, as a citizen, a right to
legislate whenever my social rights are
invaded by the social act of another.”
And now for the definition of these
“ social rights.” “ If anything invades
my social rights, certainly the traffic
in strong drink does. It destroys my
primary right of security, by constantly
creating and stimulating social disorder.
It invades my right of equality, by
deriving a profit from the creation of a
misery I am taxed to support. It
impedes my right to free moral and
intellectual development, by surrounding
my path with dangers, and by weakening
and demoralising society, from which I
have a right to claim mutual aid and
intercourse.” A theory of ‘‘ social rights ”
the like of which probably never before
found its way into distinct language:
being nothing short of this—that it is
the absolute social right of every indi
vidual that every other individual shall
act in every respect exactly as he ought;
that, whosoever fails thereof in the
smallest particular, violates my social
right, and entitles me to demand from
the legislature the removal of the griev
ance. So monstrous a principle is far
more dangerous than any single inter
ference with liberty; there is no violation
of liberty which it would not justify ;
it acknowledges no right to any freedom
whatever, except perhaps to that of
holding opinions in secret, without ever
disclosing them: for, the moment an
opinion which I consider noxious passes
anyone’s lips, it invades all the “social
rights ” attributed to me by the Alliance.
The doctrine ascribes to all mankind a
vested interest in each other’s moral,
intellectual, and even physical perfection,
to be defined by each claimant according
to his own standard.
Another important example of ille
gitimate interference with the rightful
liberty of the individual, not simply
threatened, but long since carried into
triumphant effect, is Sabbatarian legisla
tion. Without doubt, abstinence on
one day in the week, so far as the
exigencies of life permit, from the usual
daily occupation, though in no respect
religiously binding on any except Jews,
is a highly beneficial custom. And
inasmuch as this custom cannot be ob
served without a general consent to that
effect among the industrious classes,
therefore, in so far as some persons by
working may impose the same neces
sity on others, it may be allowable and
right that the law should guarantee to
each the observance by others of the
custom, by suspending the greater opera
tions of industry on a particular day.
But this justification, grounded on the
direct interest which others have in each
individual’s observance of the practice,
does not apply to the self-chosen occupa
tions in which a person may think fit to
employ his leisure; nor does it hold good
in the smallest degree for legal restric
tions on amusements. It is true that the
amusement of some is the day’s work of
others; but the pleasure, not to say the
useful recreation, of many is worth the
�72
ON LIBERTY
labour of a few, provided the occupa
tion is freely chosen and can be freely
resigned. The operatives are perfectly
right in thinking that, if all worked on
Sunday, seven days’ work would have to
be given for six days’ wages; but so long
as the great mass of employments are
suspended, the small number who for the
enjoyment of others must still work obtain
a proportional increase of earnings; and
they are not obliged to follow those
occupations if they prefer leisure to
emolument.
If a further remedy is
sought, it might be found in the estab
lishment by custom of a holiday on
some other day of the week for those
particular classes of persons. The only
ground, therefore, on which restrictions
on Sunday amusements can be defended
must be that they are religiously wrong—
a motive of legislation which can never be
too earnestly protested against. Deorum
injuria Diis cura. It remains to be
proved that society or any of its officers
holds a commission from on high to
avenge any supposed offence to Omni
potence which is not also a wrong to
our fellow-creatures. The notion that it
is one man’s duty that another should
be religious was the foundation of all
the religious persecutions ever perpe
trated, and, if admitted, would fully
justify them. Though the feeling which
breaks out in the repeated attempts to
stop railway travelling on Sunday, in the
resistance to the opening of museums,
and the like, has not the cruelty of the
old persecutors, the state of mind indi
cated by it is fundamentally the same.
It is a determination not to tolerate
others in doing what is permitted by
their religion, because it is not permitted
by the persecutor’s religion. It is a
belief that God not only abominates
the act of the misbeliever, but will
not hold us guiltless if we leave him
unmolested.
I cannot refrain from adding to these
examples of the little account commonly
made of human liberty the language of
downright persecution which breaks out
from the press of this country whenever
it feels called on to notice the remarkable
phenomenon of Mormonism. Much
might be said on the unexpected and
instructive fact that an alleged new
revelation, and a religion founded on it,
the product of palpable imposture, not
even supported by the prestige of extra
ordinary qualities in its founder, is be
lieved by hundreds of thousands, and has
been made the foundation of a society,
in the age of newspapers, railways, and
the electric telegraph. What here con
cerns us is that this religion, like other
and better religions, has its martyrs; that
its prophet and founder was for his
teaching put to death by a mob; that
others of its adherents lost their lives by
the same lawless violence; that they
were forcibly expelled in a body from
the country in which they first grew up ;
while, now that they have been chased
into a solitary recess in the midst of a
desert, many in this country openly
declare that it would be right (only that
it is not convenient) to send an expedi
tion against them, and compel them by
force to conform to the opinions of other
people. The article of the Mormonite
doctrine which is the chief provocative
to the antipathy which thus breaks
through the ordinary restraints of reli
gious tolerance is its sanction of poly
gamy; which, though permitted to
Mohammedans, and Hindoos, and
Chinese, seems to excite unquenchable
animosity when practised by persons
who speak English, and profess to be
a kind of Christians. No one has a
�OF LIMITS TO AUTHORITY OF SOCIETY OVER THE INDIVIDUAL 73
deeper disapprobation than I have of
this Mormon institution; both for other
reasons and because, far-from being in
any way countenanced by the principle
of liberty, it is a direct infraction of
that principle, being a mere riveting
of the chains of one half of the com
munity, and an emancipation of the
other from reciprocity of obligation
towards them. Still, it must be
remembered that this relation is as
much voluntary on the part of the
women concerned in it, and who may be
deemed the sufferers by it, as is the
case with any other form of the marriage
institution; and, however surprising this
fact may appear, it has its explanation
in the common ideas and customs of
the world, which, teaching women to
think marriage the one thing needful,
make it intelligible that many a woman
should prefer being one of several wives
to not being a wife at all. Other
countries are not asked to recognise
such unions, or release any portion of
their inhabitants from their own laws
on the score of Mormonite opinions.
But when the dissentients have con
ceded to the hostile sentiments of others
far more than could justly be demanded ;
when they have left the countries to
which their doctrines were unacceptable,
and established themselves in a remote
corner of the earth which they have
been the first to render habitable to
human beings; it is difficult to see on
what principles but those of tyranny
they can be prevented from living
there under what laws they please,
provided they commit no aggression
on other nations, and allow perfect
freedom of departure to those who are
dissatisfied with their ways. A recent
writer, in some respects of considerable
merit, proposes (to use his own words)
not a crusade, but a civilisade, against
this polygamous community, to put an
end to what seems to him a retrograde
step in civilisation. It also appears so
to me, but I am not aware that any
community has a right to force another
to be civilised. So long as the sufferers
by the bad law do not invoke assistance
from other communities, I cannot admit
that persons entirely unconnected with
them ought to step in and require that
a condition of things with which all who
are directly interested appear to be satis
fied should be put an end to because it
is a scandal to persons some thousands
of miles distant, who have no part or
concern in it. Let them send mission
aries, if they please, to preach against it;
and let them, by any fair means (of
which silencing the teachers is not one),
oppose the progress of similar doctrines
among their own people. If civilisation
has got the better of barbarism when
barbarism had the world to itself, it is
too much to profess to be afraid lest
barbarism, after having been fairly got
under, should revive and conquer civili
sation. A civilisation that can thus
succumb to its vanquished enemy must
first have become so degenerate that
neither its appointed priests and teachers
nor anybody else has the capacity, or
will take the trouble, to stand up for it.
If this be so, the sooner such a civilisa
tion receives notice to quit the better.
It can only go on from bad to worse,
until destroyed and regenerated (like
the Western Empire) by energetic bar
barians.
�74
ON LIBERTY
Chapter V.
APPLICATIONS
The principles asserted in these pages
must be more generally admitted as the
basis for discussion of details, before a
consistent application of them to all the
various departments of government and
morals can be attempted with any pros
pect of advantage. The few observations
I propose to make on questions of detail
are designed to illustrate the principles,
rather than to follow them out to their
consequences. I offer, not so much
applications, as specimens of application;
which may serve to bring into greater
clearness the meaning and limits of the
two maxims which together form the
entire doctrine of this Essay, and to
assist the judgment in holding the
balance between them, in the cases
where it appears doubtful which of them
is applicable to the case.
The maxims are, first, that the indi
vidual is not accountable to society for
his actions, in so far as these concern
the interests of no person but himself.
Advice, instruction, persuasion, and
avoidance by other people, if thought
necessary by them for their own good,
are the only measures by which society
can justifiably express its dislike or dis
approbation of his conduct. Secondly,
that, for such actions as are prejudicial to
the interests of others, the individual is
accountable, and may be subjected either
to social or to legal punishment, if society
is of opinion that the one or the other is
requisite for its protection.
In the first place, it must by no means
be supposed, because damage, or proba
bility of damage, to the interests of others
can alone justify the interference of
society, that therefore it always does
justify such interference. In many cases
an individual, in pursuing a legitimate
object, necessarily, and therefore legiti
mately, causes pain or loss to others, or
intercepts a good which they had a
reasonable hope of obtaining. Such oppo
sitions of interest between individuals
often arise from bad social institutions,
but are unavoidable while those institu
tions last; and some would be unavoid
able under any institutions. Whoever
succeeds in an overcrowded profession,
or in a competitive examination; whoever
is preferred to another in any contest for
an object which both desire, reaps benefit
from the loss of others, from their wasted
exertion and their disappointment. But
it is, by common admission, better for the
general interest of mankind that persons
should pursue their objects undeterred
by this sort of consequences. In other
words, society admits no right, either
legal or moral, in the disappointed com
petitors, to immunity from this kind of
suffering; and feels called on to interfere
only when means of success have been
employed which it is contrary to the
general interest to permit—namely, fraud
or treachery, and force.
Again, trade is a social act. Whoever
undertakes to sell any description of
goods to the public does what affects
the interest of other persons, and of
society in general; and thus his conduct,
in principle, comes within the jurisdiction
�APPLICATIONS
of society : accordingly, it was once held
to be the duty of governments, in all cases
which were considered of importance, to
fix prices and regulate the processes of
manufacture. But it is now recognised,
though not till after a long struggle, that
both the cheapness and the good quality
of commodities are most effectually pro
vided for by leaving the producers and
sellers perfectly free, under the sole check
of equal freedom to the buyers for sup
plying themselves elsewhere. This is the
so-called doctrine of Free Trade, which
rests on grounds different from, though
equally solid with, the principle of indi
vidual liberty asserted in this Essay.
Restrictions on trade, or on production
for purposes of trade, are indeed re
straints ; and all restraint, qua restraint,
is an evil: but the restraints in question
affect only that part of conduct which
society is competent to restrain, and are
wrong solely because they do not really
produce the results which it is desired to,
produce by them. As the principle of
individual liberty is not involved in the
doctrine of Free Trade, so neither is it in
most of the questions which arise respect
ing the limits of that doctrine; as, for
example, what amount of public control
is admissible for the prevention of fraud
by adulteration; how far sanitary pre
cautions, or arrangements to protect
workpeople employed in dangerous occu
pations, should be enforced on employers.
Such questions involve considerations of
liberty, only in so far as leaving people to
themselves is always better, caterisparibus,
than controlling them; but that they
may be legitimately controlled for these
ends is in principle undeniable. On the
other hand, there are questions relating
to interference with trade which are
essentially questions of liberty ; such as
the Maine Law, already touched upon ;
75
the prohibition of the importation of
opium into China; the restriction of the
sale of poisons ; all cases, in short, where
the object of the interference is to make
it impossible or difficult to obtain a
particular commodity. These interfer
ences are objectionable, not as infringe
ments on the liberty of the producer or
seller, but on that of the buyer.
One of these examples, that of the
sale of poisons, opens a new question;
the proper limits of what may be called
the functions of police ; how far liberty
may legitimately be invaded for the
prevention of crime, or of accident. It
is one of the undisputed functions of
government to take precautions against
crime before it has been committed, as
well as to detect and punish it afterwards.
The preventive function of government,.
however, is far more liable to be abused,
to the prejudice of liberty, than the
punitory function; for there is hardly
any part of the legitimate freedom of
action of a human being which would
not admit of being represented, and
fairly too, as increasing the facilities
for some form or other of delinquency.
Nevertheless, if a public authority, or
even a private person, sees anyone
evidently preparing to commit a crime,
they are not bound to look on inactive
until the crime is committed, but may
interfere to prevent it. If poisons were
never bought or used for any purpose
except the commission of murder, it would
be right to prohibit their manufacture and
sale. They may, however, be wanted
not only for innocent but for useful
purposes, and restrictions cannot be
imposed in the one case without operat
ing in the other. Again, it is a proper
office of public authority to guard against
accidents. If either a public officer or
any one else saw a person attempting to
�76
ON LIBERTY
cross a bridge which had been ascertained
to be unsafe, and there were no time to
warn him of his danger, they might seize
him and turn him back, without any real
infringement of his liberty; for liberty
consists in doing what one desires, and
he does not desire to fall into the river.
Nevertheless, when there is not a cer
tainty, but only a danger of mischief, no
one but the person himself can judge of
the sufficiency of the motive which may
prompt him to incur the risk: in this
case, therefore (unless he is a child, or
delirious, or in some state of excitement
or absorption incompatible with the full
use of the reflecting faculty), he ought,
.1 conceive, to be only warned of the
danger, not forcibly prevented from
exposing himself to it. Similar con
siderations, applied to such a question
as the sale of poisons, may enable us to
decide which among the possible modes
of regulation are or are not contrary to
principle. Such a precaution, for ex
ample, as that of labelling the drug with
some word expressive of its dangerous
character may be enforced without
violation of liberty: the buyer cannot
wish not to know that the thing he
possesses has poisonous qualities. But
to require in all cases the certificate of
a medical practitioner would make it
sometimes impossible, always expensive,
to obtain the article for legitimate uses.
The only mode apparent to me, in which
difficulties may be thrown in the way
of crime committed through this means,
without any infringement, worth taking
into account, upon the liberty of those
who desire the poisonous substance for
other purposes, consists in providing
what, in the apt language of Bentham,
is called “preappointed evidence.” This
provision is familiar to every one in
the case of contracts. It is usual and i
right that the law, when a contract is
entered into, should require, as the con
dition of its enforcing performance, that
certain formalities should be observed,
such as signatures, attestation of wit
nesses, and the like, in order that in case
of subsequent dispute there may be evi
dence to prove that the contract was really
entered into, and that there was nothing
in the circumstances to render it legally
invalid : the effect being to throw great
obstacles in the way of fictitious con
tracts, or contracts made in circumstances
which, if known, would destroy their
validity. Precautions of a similar nature
might be enforced in the sale of articles
adapted to be instruments of crime. The
seller, for example, might be required to
enter in a register the exact time of the
transaction, the name and address of the
buyer, the precise quality and quantity
sold; to ask the purpose for which it
was wanted, and record the answer he
received. When there was no medical
prescription, the presence of some third
persoh might be required, to bring home
the fact to the purchaser, in case there
should afterwards be reason to believe
that the article had been applied to
criminal purposes. Such regulations
would in general be no material impedi
ment to obtaining the article, but a very
considerable one to making an improper
use of it without detection.
The right inherent in society, to ward
off crimes against itself by antecedent
precautions, suggests the obvious limita
tions to the maxim, that purely self
regarding misconduct cannot properly
be meddled with in the way of preven
tion or punishment. Drunkenness, for
example, in ordinary cases is not a fit
subject for legislative interference; but I
should deem it perfectly legitimate that
a person who had once been convicted
�APPLICA PIONS
of any act of violence to others under
the influence of drink should be placed
under a special legal restriction, personal
to himself; that, if he were afterwards
found drunk, he should be liable to a
penalty, and that, if when in that state he
committed another offence, the punish
ment to which he would be liable for
that other offence should be increased in
severity. The making himself drunk, in
a person whom drunkenness excites to
do harm to others, is a crime against
others. So, again, idleness, except in a
person receiving support from the public,
or except when it constitutes a breach
of contract, cannot without tyranny be
made a subject of legal punishment; but
if, either from idleness or from any other
avoidable cause, a man fails to perform
his legal duties to others, as, for instance,
to support his children, it is no tyranny
to force him to fulfil that obligation by
compulsory labour if no other means are
available.
Again, there are many acts which,
being directly injurious only to the agents
themselves, ought not to be legally inter
dicted, but which, if done publicly, are a
violation of good manners, and, coming
thus within the category of . offences
against others, may rightly be prohibited.
Of this kind are offences against decency;
on which it is unnecessary to dwell, the
rather as they are only connected
indirectly with our subject, the objection
to publicity being equally strong in the
case of many actions not in themselves
condemnable, nor supposed to be so.
There is another question to which an
answer must be found, consistent with
the principles which have been laid down.
In cases of personal conduct supposed
to be blameable, but which respect for
liberty precludes society from preventing
or punishing, because the evil directly '
77
resulting falls wholly on the agent; what
the agent is free to do, ought other
persons to be equally free to counsel or
instigate ? This question is not free
from difficulty. The case of a person
who solicits another to do an act is not
strictly a case of self-regarding conduct.
To give advice or offer inducements to
anyone is a social act, and may, therefore,
like actions in general which affect others,
be supposed amenable to social control.
But a little reflection corrects the first
impression, by showing that, if the case
is not strictly within the definition of
individual liberty, yet the reasons on
which the principle of individual liberty
is grounded are applicable to it. If
people must be allowed, in whatever
concerns only themselves, to act as
seems best to themselves, at their own
peril, they must equally be free to con
sult with one another about what is fit
to be so done; to exchange opinions,
and give and receive suggestions. What
ever it is permitted to do, it must be
permitted to advise to do. The question
is doubtful only when the instigator
derives a personal benefit from his
advice; when he makes it his occupation,
for subsistence or pecuniary gain, to
promote what society and the State con
sider to be an evil. Then, indeed, a
new element of complication is intro
duced ; namely, the existence of classes
of persons with an interest opposed to
what is considered as the public weal,
and whose mode of living is grounded
on the counteraction of it. Ought this
to be interfered with, or not ? Fornica
tion, for example, must be tolerated, and
so must gambling; but should a person
be free to be a pimp, or to keep a
gambling-house ? The case is one of
those which lie on the exact boundary
line between two principles, and it is not
�78
ON LIBERTY
at once apparent to which of the two it
properly belongs. There are arguments
on both sides. On the side of toleration
it may be said that the fact of following
anything as an occupation, and living or
profiting by the practice of it, cannot
make that criminal which would other
wise be admissible; that the act should
•either be consistently permitted or con
sistently prohibited; that, if the principles
■which we have hitherto defended are
true, society has no business, as society,
to decide anything to be wrong which
concerns only the individual; that it
cannot go beyond dissuasion, and that
one person should be as free to persuade
as another to dissuade. In opposition
to this it may be contended that, although
the public, or the State, are not warranted
in authoritatively deciding, for purposes
of repression or punishment, that such
•or such conduct affecting only the in
terests of the individual is good or bad,
they are fully justified in assuming, if
they regard it as bad, that its being so
or not is at least a disputable question :
That, this being supposed, they cannot
be acting wrongly in endeavouring to
exclude the influence of solicitations
which are not disinterested, of instigators
who cannot possibly be impartial—who
have a direct personal interest on one
side, and that side the one which
the State believes to be wrong, and
who confessedly promote it for personal
objects only. There can surely, it may
be urged, be nothing lost, no sacrifice of
good, by so ordering matters that persons
shall make their election, either wisely
or foolishly, on their own prompting, as
free as possible from the arts of persons
who stimulate their inclinations for inte
rested purposes of their own. Thus (it
may be said), though the statutes respect
ing unlawful games are utterly indefen
sible—though all persons should be free
to gamble in their own or each other’s
houses, or in any place of meeting
established by their own subscriptions,
and open only to the members and their
visitors — yet public gambling-houses
should not be permitted. It is true that
the prohibition is never effectual, and
that, whatever amount of tyrannical
power may be given to the police,
gambling-houses can always be main
tained under other pretences ; but they
may be compelled to conduct their
operations with a certain degree of
secrecy and mystery, so that nobody
knows anything about them but those
who seek them; and more than this
society ought not to aim at. There is
considerable force in these arguments.
I will not venture to decide whether
they are sufficient to justify the moral
anomaly of punishing the accessory,
when the principal is (and must be)
allowed to go free; of fining or imprison
ing the procurer, but not the fornicator
—the gambling-house keeper, but not
the gambler. Still less ought the
common operations of buying and selling
to be interfered with on analogous
grounds. Almost every article which is
bought and sold may be used in excess,
and the sellers have a pecuniary interest
in encouraging that excess ; but no argu
ment can be founded on this, in favour,
for instance, of the Maine Law ; because
the class of dealers in strong drinks,
though interested in their abuse, are
indispensably required for the sake of
their legitimate use. The interest, how
ever, of these dealers in promoting
intemperance is a real evil, and justifies
the State in imposing restrictions and
requiring guarantees which, but for that
justification, would be infringements of
legitimate liberty.
�APPLICA TIONS
A further question is, whether the
State, while it permits, should neverthe
less indirectly discourage conduct which
it deems contrary to the best interests of
the agent; whether, for example, it
should take measures to render the
means of drunkenness more costly, or
add to the difficulty of procuring them
by limiting the number of the places of
sale. On this, as on most other practical
questions, many distinctions require to
be made. To tax stimulants for the sole
purpose of making them more difficult
to be obtained is a measure differing
only in degree from their entire prohi
bition, and would be justifiable only if
that were justifiable. Every increase of
cost is a prohibition to those whose
means do not come up to the augmented
price; and to those who do, it is a
penalty laid on them for gratifying a
particular taste. Their choice of plea
sures, and their mode of expending their
income, after satisfying their legal and
moral obligations to the State and to
individuals, are their own concern, and
must rest with their own judgment.
These considerations may seem at first
sight to condemn the selection of
stimulants as special subjects of taxation
for purposes of revenue. But it must
be remembered that taxation for fiscal
purposes is absolutely inevitable; that
in most countries it is necessary that a
considerable part of. that taxation should
be indirect; that the State, therefore,
cannot help imposing penalties, which
to some persons may be prohibitory, on
the use of some articles of consumption.
It is hence the duty of the State to con
sider, in the imposition of taxes, what
commodities the consumers can best
spare; and, b fortiori, to select in
preference those of which it deems the
use, beyond a very moderate quantity,
79
to be positively injurious. Taxation,
therefore, of stimulants, up to the point
which produces the largest amount of
revenue (supposing that the State needs
all the revenue which it yields), is not
only admissible, but to be approved of.
The question of making the sale of
these commodities a more or less exclusive
privilege must be answered differently
according to the purposes to which the
restriction is intended to be subservient.
All places of public resort require the
restraint of a police, and places of this
kind peculiarly, because offences against
society are especially apt to originate
there. It is, therefore, fit to confine the
power of selling these commodities (at
least, for consumption on the spot) to
persons of known or vouched-for respect
ability of conduct; to make such regula
tions respecting hours of opening and
closing as may be requisite for public
surveillance, and to withdraw the licence
if breaches of the peace repeatedly take
place through the connivance or inca
pacity of the keeper of the house, or if
it becomes a rendezvous for concocting
and preparing offences against the law.
Any further restriction I do not conceive
to be, in principle, justifiable. The
limitation in number, for instance, of
beer and spirit houses, for the express
purpose of rendering them more difficult
of access, and diminishing the occasions
of temptation, not only exposes all to an
inconvenience because there are some
by whom the facility would be abused,
but is suited only to a state of society in
which the labouring classes are avowedly
treated as children or savages, and placed
under an education of restraint, to fit
them for future admission to the privi
leges of freedom. This is not the
principle on which the labouring classes
are professedly governed in any free
�8o
ON LIBERTY
country; and no person who sets due
value on freedom will give his adhesion
to their being so governed, unless after
all efforts have been exhausted to educate
them for freedom and govern them as
freemen, and it has been definitively
proved that they can only be governed
as children. The bare statement of the
alternative shows the absurdity of sup
posing that such efforts have been made
in each case which needs be considered
here. It is only because the institutions
of this country are a mass of inconsis
tencies that things find admittance into
our practice which belong to the system
of despotic, or what is called paternal,
government, while the general freedom
of our institutions precludes the exercise
of the amount of control necessary to
render the restraint of any real efficacy
as a moral education.
It was pointed out in an early part of
this Essay that the liberty of the indi
vidual, in things wherein the individual
is alone concerned, implies a correspond
ing liberty in any number of individuals
to regulate by mutual agreement such
things as regard them jointly, and regard
no persons but themselves. This ques
tion permits no difficulty, so long as the
will of all the persons implicated remains
unaltered; but, since that will may
change, it is often necessary, even in
things in which they alone are concerned,
that they should enter into engagements
with one another; and, when they do, it
is fit, as a general rule, that those engage
ments should be kept. Yet, in the laws,
probably of every country, this general
rule has some exceptions. Not only
persons are not held to engagements
which violate the rights of third parties,
but it is sometimes considered a sufficient
reason for releasing them from an engage
ment that it is injurious to themselves.
In this and most other civilised countries,
for example, an engagement by which a
person should sell himself, or allow him
self to be sold, as a slave, would be null
and void—neither enforced by law nor
by opinion. The ground for thus limit
ing his power of voluntarily disposing of
his own lot in life is apparent, and is
very clearly seen in this extreme case.
The reason for not interfering, unless for
the sake of others, with a person’s volun
tary acts is consideration for his liberty.
His voluntary choice is evidence that
what he so chooses is desirable, or at the
least endurable, to him, and his good is
on the whole best provided for by allow
ing him to take his own means of pur
suing it. But by selling himself for a
slave he abdicates his liberty; he fore
goes any future use of it beyond that
single act. He therefore defeats, in his
own case, the very purpose which is the
justification of allowing him to dispose
of himself. He is no longer free, but is
thenceforth in a position which has no
longer the presumption in its favour
that would be afforded by his voluntarily
remaining in it. The principle of free
dom cannot require that he should be
free not to be free. It is not freedom
to be allowed to alienate his freedom.
These reasons, the force of which is so
conspicuous in this peculiar case, are
evidently of far wider application; yet a
limit is everywhere set to them by the
necessities of life, which continually
require, not indeed that we should resign
our freedom, but that wye should consent
to this and the other limitation of it.
The principle, how’ever, which demands
uncontrolled freedom of action in all
that concerns only the agents themselves,
requires that those who have become
bound to one another, in things which
concern no third party, should be able
�APPLICATIONS
to release one another from the engage
ment ; and even without such voluntary
release there are, perhaps, no contracts
or engagements, except those that relate
to money or money’s worth, of which
one can venture to say that there ought
to be no liberty whatever of retractation.
Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, in the
excellent essay from which I have already
quoted, states it as his conviction that
engagements which involve personal re
lations or services should never be
legally binding beyond a limited duration
of time; and that the most important of
these engagements, marriage, having the
peculiarity that its objects are frustrated
unless the feelings of both the parties
are in harmony with it, should require
nothing more than the declared will of
either party to dissolve it. This subject
is too important and too complicated to
be discussed in a parenthesis, and I touch
on it only so far as is necessary for pur
poses of illustration. If the conciseness
and generality of Baron Humboldt’s dis
sertation had not obliged him, in this
instance, to content himself with enun
ciating his conclusion without discussing
the premises, he would doubtless have
recognised that the question cannot be
decided on grounds so simple as those
to which he confines himself. When a
person, either by express promise or by
conduct, has encouraged another to rely
upon his continuing to act in a certain way
—to build expectations and calculations,
and stake any part of his plan of life upon
that supposition—a new series of moral
obligations arises on his part towards
that person, which may possibly be over
ruled, but cannot be ignored. And
again, if the relation between two con
tracting parties has been followed by
consequences to others ; if it has placed
third parties in any peculiar position, or,
81
as in the case of marriage, has even
called third parties into existence, obli
gations arise on the part of both the
contracting parties towards those third
persons, the fulfilment of which, or at
all events the mode of fulfilment, must
be greatly affected by the continuance
or disruption of the relation between
the original parties to the contract. It
does not follow, nor can I admit, that
these obligations extend to requiring the
fulfilment of the contract at all costs
to the happiness of the reluctant party;
but they are a necessary element in the
question; and even if, as Von Humboldt
maintains, they ought to make no dif
ference in the legal freedom of the
parties to release themselves from the
engagement (and I also hold that they
ought not to make much difference),
they necessarily make a great difference
in the moral freedom. A person is
bound to take all these circumstances
I into account before resolving on a step
which may affect such important inte
rests of others; and if he does not allow
proper weight to those interests, he is
morally responsible for the wrong. I
have made these obvious remarks for
the better illustration of the general
principle of liberty, and not because
they are at all needed on the particular
question, which, on the contrary, is
usually discussed as if the interest of
children was everything, and that of
grown persons nothing.
I have already observed that, owing to
the absence of any recognised general
principles, liberty is often granted where
it should be withheld, as well as withheld
where it should be granted ; and one of
the cases in which, in the modern Euro
pean world, the sentiment of liberty is
the strongest, is a case where, in my view,
it is altogether misplaced. A person
G
�82
ON LIBERTY
should be free to do as he likes in his
own concerns; but he ought not to be
free to do as he likes in acting for
another, under the pretext that the affairs
of the other are his own affairs. The
State, while it respects the liberty of each
in what specially regards^imself, is bound
to maintain a vigilant control over his
exercise of any power which it allows him
to possess over others. This obligation
is almost entirely disregarded in the case
of the family relations—a case, in its
direct influence on human happiness,
more important than all others taken
together. The almost despotic power of
husbands over wives needs not be
enlarged upon here, because nothing
more is needed for the complete removal
of the evil than that wives should have
the same rights, and should receive the
protection of the law in the same manner,
as all other persons; and because, on this
subject, the defenders of established in
justice do not avail themselves of the
plea of liberty, but stand forth openly as
the champions of power. It is in the
case of children that misapplied notions
of liberty are a real obstacle to the fulfil
ment by the State of its duties. One
would almost think that a man’s children
were supposed to be literally, and not
metaphorically, a part of himself, so
jealous is opinion of the smallest inter
ference of law with his absolute and
exclusive controlover them—morejealous
than of almost any interference with his
own freedom of action : so much less do
the generality of mankind value liberty
than power. Consider, for example, the
case of education. Is it not almost a
self-evident axiom that the State should
require and compel the education, up to
a certain standard, of every human being
who is born its citizen? Yet who is
there that is not afraid to recognise
and assert this truth ? Hardly anyone,
indeed, will deny that it is one of the
most sacred duties of the parents (or, as
law and usage now stand, the father),
after summoning a human being into the
world, to give to that being an education
fitting him to perform his part well in life
towards others and towards himself. But
while this is unanimously declared to be
the father’s duty, scarcely anybody, in
this country, will bear to hear of obliging
him to perform it. Instead of his being
required to make any exertion or sacri
fice for securing education to his child, it
is left to his choice to accept it or not
when it is provided gratis 1 It still
remains unrecognised that to bring a
child into existence without a fair pros
pect of being able, not only to provide
food for its body, but instruction and
training for its mind, is a moral crime,
both against the unfortunate offspring
and against society; and that, if the
parent does not fulfil this obligation, the
State ought to see it fulfilled, at the
charge, as far as possible, of the parent.
Were the duty of enforcing universal
education once admitted, there would be
an end to the difficulties about what the
State should teach, and how it should
teach, which now convert the subject
into a mere battle-field for sects and
parties, causing the time and labour
which should have been spent in educat
ing to be wasted in quarrelling about
education. If the Government would
make up its mind to require for every
child a good education, it might save
itself the trouble of providing one. It
might leave to parents to obtain the
education where and how they pleased,
and content itself with helping to pay
the school fees of the poorer classes of
children, and defraying the entire school
expenses of those who have no one else
�APPLICA TIONS
to pay for them. The objections which
arc urged with reason against State edu
cation do not apply to the enforcement
of education by the State, but to the
State’s taking upon itself to direct that
education: which is a totally different
thing. That the whole or any large part
of the education of the people should be
in State hands I go as far as any one in
deprecating. All that has been said of
the importance of individuality of cha
racter, and diversity in opinions and
modes of conduct, involves, as of the
same unspeakable importance, diversity
of education. A general State education
is a mere contrivance for moulding people
to be exactly like one another; and as
the mould in which it casts them is 'that
which pleases the predominant power
in the Government, whether this be a
monarch, a priesthood, an aristocracy,
or the majority of the existing generation:
in proportion as it is efficient and success
ful, it establishes a despotism over the
mind, leading by natural tendency to
one over the body. An education estab
lished and controlled by the State should
only exist, if it exist at all, as one among
many competing experiments, carried on
for the purpose of example and stimulus,
to keep the others up to a certain
standard of excellence. Unless, indeed,
when society in general is in so backward
a state that it could not or would not
provide for itself any proper institutions
of education, unless the Government
undertook the task: then, indeed, the
Government may, as the less of two great
evils, take upon itself the business of
schools and universities, as it may that
of joint-stock companies, when private
enterprise, in a shape fitted for under
taking great works of industry, does not
exist in the country. But in general, if
the country contains a sufficient number
83
of persons qualified to provide education
under Government auspices, the same
persons would be able and willing to
give an equally good education on the
voluntary principle, under the assurance
of remuneration afforded by a law render
ing education compulsory, combined
with State aid to those unable to defray
the expense.
The instrument for enforcing the law
could be no other than public examina
tions, extending to all children, and begin
ning at an early age. An age might be
fixed at which every child must be exa
mined, to ascertain if he (or she) is able to
read. If a child proves unable, the father,
unless he has some sufficient ground of
excuse, might be subjected to a moderate
fine, to be worked out, if necessary, by
his labour, and the child might be put
to school at his expense. Once in every
year the examination should be renewed,
with a gradually extending range of
subjects, so as to make the universal
acquisition, and, what is more, retention, of
a certain minimum of general knowledge
virtually compulsory. Beyond that mini
mum there should be voluntary examina
tions on all subjects, at which all who
come up to a certain standard of pro
ficiency might claim a certificate. To
prevent the State from exercising, through
these arrangements, animproper influence
over opinion, the knowledge required
for passing an examination (beyond the
merely instrumental parts of knowledge,
such as languages and their use) should,
even in the higher classes of examina
tions, be confined to facts and positive
science exclusively. The examinations
on religion, politics, or other disputed
topics should not turn on the truth or
falsehood of opinions, but on the matter
of fact that such and such an opinion is
held, on such grounds, by such authors,
�84
ON LIBERTY
or schools, or Churches. Under this
system the rising generation would be
no worse off in regard to all disputed
truths than they are at present; they
would be brought up either Churchmen
or Dissenters, as they now are, the State
merely taking care that they should be
instructed Churchmen or instructed.
Dissenters. There would be nothing to
hinder them from being taught religion,
if their parents chose, at the same
schools where they were taught other
things. All attempts by the State to
bias the conclusions of its citizens on
disputed subjects are evil; but it may
very properly offer to ascertain and certify
that a person possesses the knowledge,
requisite to make his conclusions, on
any given subject worth attending to.
A student of philosophy would be the
better for being able to stand an exami
nation both in Locke and in Kant,
whichever of the two he takes up with,
or even if with neither; and there is no
reasonable objection to examining an
Atheist in the evidences of Christianity,
provided he is not required to profess
a belief in them. The examinations,
however, in the higher branches of
knowledge should, I conceive, be entirely
voluntary.
It would be giving too
dangerous a power to Governments were
they allowed to exclude any one from
professions, even from the profession of
teacher, for alleged deficiency of qualifi
cations ; and I think, with Wilhelm von
Humboldt, that degrees, or other public
certificates of scientific or professional
acquirements, should be given to all
who present themselves for examination,
and stand the test; but that such certifi
cates should confer no advantage over
competitors, other than the weight which
may be attached to their testimony by
public opinion.
It is not in the matter of education
only that misplaced notions of liberty
prevent moral obligations on the part of
parents from being recognised, and legal
obligations from being imposed, where
there are the strongest grounds for the
former always, and in many cases for the
latter also. The fact itself, of causing
the existence of a human being, is one
of the most responsible actions in the
range of human life. To undertake this
responsibility—to bestow a life which
may be either a curse or a blessing—
unless the being on whom it is to be
bestowed will have at least the ordinary
chances of a desirable existence, is a
crime against that being. And in a
country either over-peopled, or threatened
with being so, to produce children,
beyond a very small number, with the
effect of reducing the reward of labour
by their competition, is a serious offence
against all who live by the remuneration
of their labour. The laws which, in
many countries on the Continent, forbid
marriage unless the parties can show
that they have the means of support
ing a family do not exceed the legiti
mate powers of the State; and whether
such laws be expedient or not (a ques
tion mainly dependent on local circum
stances and feelings), they are not ob
jectionable as violations of liberty. Such
laws are interferences of the State to
prohibit a mischievous act—an act in
jurious to others, which ought to be
a subject of reprobation and social
stigma, even when it is not deemed expe
dient to superadd legal punishment. Yet
the current ideas of liberty, which bend
so easily to real infringements of the
freedom of the individual in things which
concern only himself, would repel the
attempt to put any restraint upon his
inclinations when the consequence of
�APPLICA TIONS
their indulgence is a life or lives of
wretchedness and depravity to the off
spring, with manifold evils to those suffi
ciently within reach to be in any way
affected by their actions. When we
compare the strange respect of mankind
for liberty with their strange want of
respect for it, we might imagine that a man
had an indispensable right to do harm to
others, and no right at all to please him
self without giving pain to any one.
I have reserved for the last place a
large class of questions respecting the
limits of Government interference, which,
though closely connected with the subject
of this Essay, do not, in strictness, belong
to it. These are cases in which the
reasons against interference do not turn
upon the principle of liberty: the question
is not about restraining the actions of
individuals, but about helping them : it
is asked whether the Government should
do, or cause to be done, something for
their benefit, instead of leaving it to be
done by themselves, individually or in
voluntary combination.
The objections to Government inter
ference, when it is not such as to involve
infringement of liberty, may be of three
kinds.
The first is, when the thing to be done
is likely to be better done by individuals
than by the Government. Speaking
generally, there is no one so fit to conduct
any business, or to determine how or by
whom it shall be conducted, as those
who are personally interested in it. This
principle condemns the interferences,
once so common, of the Legislature, or
the officers of Government, with the
ordinary processes of industry. But this
part of the subject has been sufficiently
enlarged upon by political economists,
and is not particularly related to the
principles of this Essay.
85
The second objection is more nearly
allied to our subject. In many cases,
though individuals may not do the par
ticular thing so well, on the average, as
the officers of Government, it is neverthe
less desirable that it should be done by
them, rather than by the Government, as
a means to their own mental education
—a mode of strengthening their active
faculties, exercising their judgment, and
giving them a familiar knowledge of the
subjects with which they are thus left to
deal. This is a principal, though not the
sole, recommendation of jury trial (in
cases not political); of free and popular
local and municipal institutions ; of the
conduct of industrial and philanthropic
enterprises by voluntary associations.
These are not questions of liberty, and
are connected with that subject only by
remote tendencies ; but they are ques
tions of development. It belongs to a
different occasion from the present to
dwell on these things as parts of national
education; as being, in truth, the peculiar
training of a citizen, the practical part
of the political education of a free
people, taking them out of the narrow
circle of personal and family selfishness,
and accustoming them to the compre
hension of joint interests, the manage
ment of joint concerns—habituating
them to act from public or semi-public
motives, and guide their conduct by aims
which unite instead of isolating them
from one another. Without these habits
and powers, a free constitution can
neither be worked nor preserved ; as is
exemplified by the too often transitory
nature of political freedom in countries
where it does not rest upon a sufficient
basis of local liberties. The manage
ment of purely local business by the
localities, and of the great enterprises of
industry by the union of those who
�86
ON LIBERTY
voluntarily supply the pecuniary means,
is further recommended by all the advan
tages which have been set forth in this
Essay as belonging to individuality of
development and diversity of modes of
action. Government operations tend to
be everywhere alike. With individuals
and voluntary associations, on the con
trary, there are varied experiments, and
endless diversity of experience. What
the State can usefully do is to make itself
a central depository, and active circulator
and diffuser, of the experience resulting
from many trials. Its business is to
enable each experimentalist to benefit
by the experiments of others, instead of
tolerating no experiments but its own.
The third and most cogent reason for
restricting the interference of Govern
ment is the great evil of adding unneces
sarily to its power. Every function super
added to those already exercised by the
Government causes its influence over
hopes and fears to be more widely
diffused, and converts, more and more,
the active and ambitious part of the
public into hangers-on of the Govern
ment, or of some party which aims at
becoming the Government. If the roads,
the railways, the banks, the insurance
offices, the great joint-stock companies,
the universities, and the public charities,
wrere all of them branches of the Govern
ment ; if, in addition, the municipal
corporations and local boards, with all
that now devolves on them, became
departments of the central administra
tion; if the employes of all these different
enterprises were appointed and paid by
the Government, and looked to the
Government for every rise in life; not
all the freedom of the press and popular
constitution of the Legislature would
make this or any other country free other
wise than in name. And the evil would
be greater the more efficiently and scien
tifically the administrative machinery
was constructed—the more skilful the
arrangements for obtaining the best
qualified hands and heads with which to
work it. In England it has of late been
proposed that all the members of the
civil service of government should be
selected by competitive examination, to
obtain for those employments the most
intelligent and instructed persons pro
curable ; and much has been said and
written for and against this proposal.
One of the arguments most insisted on
by its opponents is that the occupation
of a permanent official servant of the
State does not hold out sufficient pros
pects of emolument and importance to
attract the highest talents, which will
always be able to find a more inviting
career in the professions, or in the service
of companies and other public bodies.
One would not have been surprised if
this argument had been used by the
friends of the proposition, as an answer
to its principal difficulty. Coming from
the opponents, it is strange enough. What
is urged as an objection is the safetyvalve of the proposed system. If, indeed,
all the high talent of the country could
be drawn into the service of the Govern
ment, a proposal tending to bring about
that result might well inspire uneasiness.
If every part of the business of society
which required organised concert, or
large and comprehensive views, were in
the hands of the Government, and if
Government offices were universally filled
by the ablest men, all the enlarged
culture and practised intelligence in the
country, except the purely speculative,
would be concentrated in a numerous
bureaucracy, to whom alone the rest of
the community would look for all things :
the multitude for direction and dictation
�APPLICA TIONS
in all they had to do; the able and aspir
ing for personal advancement. To be
admitted into the ranks of this bureau
cracy, and, when admitted, to rise therein,
would be the sole objects of ambition.
Under this regime, not only is the outside
public ill-qualified, for want of practical
experience, to criticise or check the mode
of operation of the bureaucracy, but even
if the accidents of despotic or the natural
working of popular institutions occasion
ally raise to the summit a ruler or rulers
of reforming inclinations, no reform can
be effected which is contrary to the
interest of the bureaucracy. Such is
the melancholy condition of the Russian
Empire, as shown in the accounts of those
who have had sufficient opportunity of
observation. The Czar himself is power
less against the bureaucratic body; he
can send any one of them to Siberia,
but he cannot govern without them, or
against their will. On every decree of
his they have a tacit veto, by merely
refraining from carrying it into effect.
In countries of more advanced civilisa
tion and of a more insurrectionary spirit,
the public, accustomed to expect every
thing to be done for them by the State,
or at least to do nothing for themselves
without asking from the State not only
leave to do it, but even how it is to be
done, naturally hold the State respon
sible for all evil which befalls them, and
when the evil exceeds their amount of
patience, they rise against the Govern
ment, and make what is called a revolu
tion ; whereupon somebody else, with or
without legitimate authority from the
nation, vaults into the seat, issues his
orders to the bureaucracy, and every
thing goes on much as it did before, the
bureaucracy being unchanged, and no
body else being capable of taking their
place.
87
A very different spectacle is exhibited
among a people accustomed to transact
their own business. In France, a large
part of the people having been engaged
in military service, many of whom have
held at least the rank of non-commis
sioned officers, there are in every popular
insurrection several persons competent
to take the lead, and improvise some
tolerable plan of action. What the
French are in military affairs, the
Americans are in every kind of civil
business : let them be left without a
Government, every body of Americans
is able to improvise one, and to carry on
that or any other public business with a
sufficient amount of intelligence, order,
and decision. This is what every free
people ought to be ; and a people capable
of this is certain to be free ; it will never
let itself be enslaved by any man or body
of men because these are able to seize
and pull the reins of the central adminis
tration. No bureaucracy can hope to
make such a people as this do or undergo
anything that they do not like. But
where everything is done through the
bureaucracy, nothing to which the bureau
cracy is really adverse can be done at all.
The constitution of such countries is
an organisation of the experience and
practical ability of the nation into a
disciplined body for the purpose of
governing the rest; and the more perfect
that organisation is in itself, the more
successful in drawing to itself and
educating for itself the persons of greatest
capacity from all ranks of the community,
the more complete is the bondage of all,
the members of the bureaucracy included.
For the governors areas much the slaves
of their organisation and discipline as
the governed are of the governors. A
Chinese mandarin is as much the tool
and creature of a despotism as the
�ON LIBERTY
humblest cultivator.
An individual
Jesuit is to the utmost degree of abase
ment the slave of his order, though the
order itself exists for the collective power
and importance of its members.
It is not, also, to be forgotten that
the absorption of all the principal ability
of the country into the governing body
is fatal, sooner or later, to the mental
activity and progressiveness of the body
itself. Banded together as they are—
working a system which, like all systems,
necessarily proceeds in a great measure
by fixed rules—the official body are
under the constant temptation of sinking
into indolent routine, or, if they now and
then desert the mill-horse round, of
rushing into some half-examined crudity
which has struck the fancy of some lead
ing member of the corps : and the sole
check to these closely-allied, though
seemingly opposite, tendencies, the only
stimulus which can keep the ability of
the body itself up to a high standard, is
liability to the watchful criticism of equal
ability outside the body. It is indis
pensable, therefore, that the means should
exist, independently of the Government,
of forming such ability, and furnishing
it with the opportunities and experience
necessary for a correct judgment of great
practical affairs. If we would possess
permanently a skilful and efficient body
of functionaries—above all, a body able
to originate and willing to adopt im
provements ; if we would not have our
bureaucracy degenerate into a pedantocracy, this body must not engross all
the occupation’s which form and cultivate
the faculties required for the government
of mankind.
To determine the point at which evils,
so formidable to human freedom and
advancement, begin, or rather at which
they begin to predominate over the
benefits attending the collective applica
tion of the force of society, under its
recognised chiefs, for the removal of the
obstacles which stand in the way of its
well-being; to secure as much of the
advantages of centralised power and
intelligence as can be had without turn
ing into governmental channels too great
a proportion of the general activity—is
one of the most difficult and complicated
questions in the art of government. It
is, in a great measure, a question of
detail, in which many and various con
siderations must be kept in view, and no
absolute rule can be laid down. But I
believe that the practical principle in
which safety resides, the ideal to be kept
in view, the standard by which to test
all arrangements intended for overcoming
the difficulty, may be conveyed in these
words: the greatest dissemination of
power consistent with efficiency; but
the greatest possible centralisation of
information, and diffusion of it from the
centre. Thus, in municipal administra
tion, there would be, as in the New
England States, a very minute division
among separate officers, chosen by the
localities, of all business which is not
better left to the persons directly inte
rested ; but, besides this, there would be,
in each department of local affairs, a
central superintendence, forming a
branch of the general government. The
organ of this superintendence would
concentrate, as in a focus, the variety ot
information and experience derived from
the conduct of that branch of public
business in all the localities, from every
thing analogous which is done in foreign
countries, and from the general principles
of political science. This central organ
should have a right to know all that is
done, and its special duty should be
that of making the knowledge acquired
�APPLICA TIONS
in one place available for others.
Emancipated from the petty prejudices
and narrow views of a locality by its
elevated position and comprehensive
sphere of observation, its advice would
naturally carry much authority; but its
actual power, as a permanent institution,
should, I conceive, be limited to com
pelling the local officers to obey the laws
laid down for their guidance. In all
things not provided for by general rules
those officers should be left to their own
judgment, under responsibility to their
constituents. For the violation of rules
they should be responsible to law, and
the rules themselves should be laid down
by the Legislature; the central admin
istrative authority only watching over
their execution, and, if they were not
properly carried into effect, appealing,
according to the nature of the case, to
the tribunals to enforce the law, or to
the constituencies to dismiss the func
tionaries who had not executed it
according to its spirit. Such, in its
general conception, is the central super
intendence which the Poor Law Board
is intended to exercise over the admin
istrators of the Poor Rate throughout
the country. Whatever powers the
Board exercises beyond this limit were
right and necessary in that peculiar
case, for the cure of rooted habits of
maladministration in matters deeply
affecting not the localities merely, but
the whole community; since no locality
has a moral right to make itself, by
mismanagement, a nest of pauperism,
necessarily overflowing into other loca
lities, and impairing the moral and
physical condition of the whole labour
ing community. The powers of ad
89
ministrative coercion and subordinate
legislation possessed by the Poor Law
Board (but which, owing to the state of
opinion on the subject, are very scantily
exercised by them), though perfectly
justifiable in a case of first-rate national
interest, would be wholly out of place in
the superintendence of interests purely
local. But a central organ of informa
tion and instruction for all the localities
would be equally valuable in all depart
ments of administration. A Government
cannot have too much of the kind of
activity which does not impede, but aids
and stimulates, individual exertion and
development. The mischief begins when,
instead of calling forth the activity and
powers of individuals and bodies, it
substitutes its own activity for theirs;
when, instead of informing, advising, and,
upon occasion, denouncing, it makes
them work in fetters, or bids them stand
aside and does their work instead of them.
The worth of a State, in the long run, is
the worth of the individuals composing
it; and a State which postpones the
interests of their mental expansion and
elevation, to a little more of administrative
skill, or of that semblance of it which
practice gives, in the details of business ;
a State which dwarfs its men, in order
that they may be more docile instru
ments in its hands even for beneficial
purposes—will find that with small men
no great thing can reallybe accomplished ;
and that the perfection of machinery to
which it has sacrificed everything will in
the end avail it nothing, for want of the
vital power which, in order that the
machine might work more smoothly, it
has preferred to banish.
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THE MARTYRDOM OF MAN.
By WINWOOD READE.
A very fine work, being a concise history of the world, written from a Rationalistic point of view,
and in a graphic and picturesque style.
London : Watts & Co., 17, Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street, E.C.
�Tl?e Rationalist Press
Association
(Limited).
[Founded 1899.
Chairman—GEORGE JACOB HOLYOAKE.
Honorary Associates:
Sir Leslie Stephen
Edward Clodd
Leonard Huxley
John M. Robertson
Prof. Ernst Haeckel
W. C. Coupland, D.Sc., M.A.
W. R. Washington Sullivan
Stanton Coit, Ph.D.
Prof. Ed. A. Westermarck
Paul Carus, Ph.D.
F. J. Gould
Major-Gen. J. G. R. Forlong
Bankers—The London City and Midland Bank, Ltd., Blackfriars Branch, London, S.E.
Auditors—Messrs. Woodburn Kirby, Page, & Co., Chartered Accountants, I, Laurence Pcuntney
Hill, London, E.C.
Secretary and Registered (9^—Charles E. Hooper, 17, Johnson’s Court, Fleet St., London, E.C.
Primary Aims.
The chief objects of the Association
are the encouragement and dissemination
of literature based upon science and
critical research, and tending at once
to the liberation of human reason from
mere tradition and to its proper exercise
on the growing material of knowledge.
Truth is infinitely great, and great is
that part of truth which has already been
brought to light; but, in order that truth
may prevail in the world at large, it
needs that the ignorant shall be taught,
that the apathetic shall be aroused,
that myths shall be analysed, sophisms
exposed, and irrational dogmas refuted.
It is not enough that new truths be
revealed in study or laboratory and dis
cussed in academic precincts or scientific
journals. Truth, so far as it bears on
the life and aspirations of mankind or
on the universe to which common expe
rience introduces us, belongs to all
men. Those whose education has been
neglected, and those who have been
educated under a false system which
affords no connected view of natural
knowledge, have been robbed of their
manifest birthright. This the R. P. A.
seeks to restore, by making the truth of
nature and reason increasingly accessible
to all.
A Definition of Rationalism.
Those who join the Association do
not thereby subscribe to any definite
creed, positive or negative. There is
breadth enough in Rationalism for all
views which do not contradict the ascer
tained truths of science. At the same
time, something more is to be understood
by Rationalism than a mere rationalistic
spirit or tendency. Rationalism repu
diates irrational authority. It takes
actual human experience to be the
material, and trained human intelligence
to be the builder, of the growing edifice
of truth. It challenges the believers
in miraculous revelation to produce evi
dence for their belief. It demands by
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race, and its moral influence, despite all
the efforts of ecclesiastical bodies, has
only sufficed to affect the lives of the
few.
It is often assumed that those who
relinquish the ancient religious beliefs
leave themselves without motives or
incentives to resist temptation and to
lead good and upright lives. But,
Rationalism may be defined as the whenever this appears to be the case,
mental attitude which unreservedly the blame is to be laid (i) on the religions
accepts the supremacy of reason and themselves, which have held out illusory
aims at establishing a system ofi philo and largely ineffectual bribes of superna
sophy and ethics verifiable by experience tural reward, or threats of supernatural
and independent ofall arbitrary assump retribution, and ignored the powerful
tions or authority.
reasons for morality which lie in man’s
It is to be observed that most Pro social nature and needs; (2) on the
testants are rationalists in their attitude individual doubters, who are not suffi
towards contemporary or recent instances ciently earnest in their search for truth
of alleged miracle and inspiration. They to make a serious study of the natural
are rationalists in their attitude towards and human grounds of moral law. The
the sacred literatures of Buddhists, Brah mental realisation of these grounds must
mans, Parsees, and Mohammedans, and tend towards the practical realisation of
towards the distinctive teachings of the the good life, although acquired habits
Church of Rome. As regards the narra of character cannot be suddenly trans
tive and theology contained in the Bible, formed by changes of opinion. While
however, they are not rationalists, but the R. P. A. has not at present any
at best compromisers between traditional organisation to take the place of the
reverence and scientific inquiry. Thus, older religious churches (such as the
while what has been called “ the spirit Positivist and Ethical Societies possess),
of rationalism ” is rife, the attempt to it is hoped that a tacit fellowship will
raise rationalism into a consistent rule grow up among its widely scattered
of the intellectual life is by no means members, tending to promote the ulti
popular. This, however, is the task mate unity of the various sections of
liberal thinkers. W'herever there is true
which the R. P. A. seeks to accomplish.
devotion to human well-being, and
proper regard for the happiness of all
Rationalism and Morality.
sentient creatures, there is true religion,
In making direct mention of ethics in or (if exception be taken to that word)
the foregoing definition of Rationalism, something better than religion; and,
it is desired to accentuate the fact that whatever our views of the constitution
the philosophy of Rationalism cannot of the universe may be, Nature remains,
fail to have bearings on human conduct for those who follow the paths of reason
which will be far more beneficent in the and science, a supreme source of interest,
long run than those of traditional theo wonder, and inspiration.
logy. Granting that supernaturalism
has had its place in the evolution of a Conditions of Membership.
rational code of morals, it has, neverthe
The Rationalist Press Association, Ltd.,
less, formed the husk rather than the
kernel of moral advancement. In many is “ a Company Limited by Guarantee,
respects it has been detrimental to the and not having a Capital divided into
progress and well-being of the human shares.” It is a propagandist, not a
what right certain people seek to impose
theological or other dogmas upon man
kind. Thus, after careful consideration,
aided by the advice of several wellknown thinkers, the following definition
of Rationalism has been adopted and
embodied in the Memorandum of Assotion of the R. P. A. :—
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commercial, undertaking. Each member
becomes liable for a sum not exceeding
one pound, in the (fortunately, unlikely)
case of the Association’s being wound
up. Should this event ever occur, there
can be no distribution of funds or
property remaining among individual
members, but all will be given “ to one
or more Associations, limited or other
wise, having similar objects.”
Any person above the age of twentyone may, with the consent of the Board,
become a member, on payment of an
annual subscription of not less than five
shillings. The subscription is payable
in advance in the month of January of
each year. A member may, on his own
application, retire from the Association
upon giving one month’s notice in writing
to the Secretary. A copy of each new
publication of the Association will be
sent, post free, to each member who does
not specify “books only by request”;
always provided that the total value of
the publications forwarded during the
year does not exceed the amount of the
member’s subscription for that year.
The minimum subscription has been
fixed at five shillings, in order not to
exclude sympathisers of small means
from membership ; but a set of books
issuedin one year has amounted to twenty
eight shillings in aggregate price, so that
members subscribing that amount or less
had the full value of their subscriptions
returned in this way. It should also be
said that the activity of the Association
has hitherto depended to a great extent
on the generosity of supporters who have
subscribed or presented much larger
amounts than could be returned in the
shape of literature.
For full particulars apply to the Secre
tary, 17, Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street,
London, E.C. Current and forthcoming
publications are advertised in the Literary
Guide—issued by Watts and Co., at the
same address—monthly, 2d.; post free
per annum, 2s 8d.; free specimen copy
forwarded by request.
SOME PUBLICATIONS OF THE R.P.A.
ANONYMOUS.
Mr. Balfour’s Apologetics Critically
Examined.
232 pp.; cloth, 3s. 6d. net, by post 3s. iod.
Comprising a careful analysis of the Pre
mier’s “ Philosophic Doubt” in its bearings
on his religious belief.
“ A piece of thorough good work : exhaustive,
demolishing, and withal high-toned.”— Edward
Clodd.
BUCHNER, Professor LUDWIG.
Last Words on Materialism,
and
Kindred Subjects.
Translated by Joseph McCabe. With Por
trait of the Author and Biographical Sketch
by his brother, Professor Alex Buchner.
(Uniform with Professor Haeckel’s Riddle
of the Universe.} xxxiv.-299 PP-; cloth,
6s. net; cheaper edition, 2s. 6d. net, by post
2s. iod.
GORIIAM, CHARLES T.
BITHELL, RICHARD, B.Sc., Ph.D.
Agnostic Problems.
Being an Examination of some Questions of
the Deepest Interest, as Viewed from the
Agnostic Standpoint. Cloth, 2s. 6d.
A Handbook of Scientific Agnosticism.
64 pp.; cloth, 2s., by post 2s. 3d.; paper,
Is., by post is. 2d.
Ethics of the Great Religions.
108 pp.; cloth, 2s., by post 2s. 3d.
Under the term “Great Religions” Mr.
Gorham embraces Judaism, Christianity,
Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Tao
ism, and Mohammedanism.
From the
scriptures of each of these faiths he culls
the finer preceptsand reflections, connecting
them with explanatory sections and critical
observations.
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GORHAM, CHARLES T.
The Ethics of the Great French
Rationalists.
is., by post is. 2d.
This little work comprises brief biogra
phical sketches of Charron, Condorcet,
Montaigne, Rousseau, Voltaire, Michelet,
Comte, Renan, and others, with carefullychosen selections from their writings on
Religion and Ethics.
GOULD, F. J.
Concise History of Religion.
3 vols. Vol. I., 2s. 6d.; Vol. II., 3s. 6d.;
Vol. III., 5s.
The First Volume treats of the super
stitions of savages and primitive man,
and delineates the characteristics of the
religions of America, Finland, China,
Egypt, Arabia, Chaldtea, Syria, India,
Japan, Persia, the Kelts, Greeks, and
Romans. The Second Volume takes to
pieces the whole of the Old Testament
literature, and explains the origin of the
various parts. The last chapter describes
the Religious Environment of Early Chris
tianity. The Third Volume traces the
growth of the Christian movement, the lives
of Paul and Jesus (with due separation of
the mythical elements), and affords a
Rationalistic analysis of the whole of the
New Testament books.
The Agnostic Island.
124 pp.; cloth, 2s., by post 2s. 3d.; boards,
is., by post is. 2d.
A tale of an Agnostic Settlement in the
remote waters of New Guinea visited by
three missionaries from Exeter Hall.
The Children’s Book of Moral Lessons.
First and Second Series. Each series, 2s.,
by post 2s. 3d.; the two series post free
4s. 4d.
While theology is strictly excluded
from the lessons here reproduced, they are
constructed on such a humanitarian basis as
to fit them for use in homes and schools of
all classes and creeds.
The Religion of the First Christians.
Beautifully bound, gold lettered, 2s. 6d.
“Absorbingly interesting.. . .We strongly recom
mend the perusal of this enlightening book. Mr.
Gould’s style is characterised by lucidity and logic.
He achieves the chief end of all literature—to make
your subject interesting.”—Reynolds's.
Tales from the Bible.
IO3 PPG cloth, 9d. net, by post nd.;
boards, 6d. net, by post 8d.
Tales from the New Testament.
176 pp.; cloth, is. net, by post is. 3d.
The Building of the Bible.
Showing the Chronological Order in which
the Books of the Old and New Testaments
appeared according to Recent Biblical
Criticism; with Notes on Contemporary
events. 24 pp.; 3d., by post 4d.
The New Conversion.
14 pp.; 2d., by post 2j^d.
The Ethical Riches.
14 pp.; 2d., by post 2j^d.
GLANVILLE, W. (ex-Baptist Minister).
The Web Unwoven;
or, The Dolus Theory of the Book of Acts,
as presented in a Critique of Chapters X.,
XI., and XII. of same. 3d. net, by post
5d“We warmly commend this excellent book to
all readers interested in making a close examination
of the character of the New Testament.
Mr.
Glanville reasons closely and minutely ; in some
points we should go farther than he does, but that
in no way diminishes our appreciation of his work.”
— The Reformer,
GODFREY, W. S.
Theism Found Wanting.
4d. net, by post 5d.
“An exceptionally acute, sane, dispassionate,
and closely-reasoned thesis.”—Agnostic Journal.
“Whether one agrees or not with the conclusions
of the book, one is bound to respect the fine quali
ties of the author, and to give him patient hear
ing.”—Liverpool Review.
HAECKEL, Professor ERNST.
The Riddle of the Universe
at the Close of the Nineteenth Century.
Translated by Joseph McCabe. Cheap
edition, 6d., by post 8d.; cloth, is., by post
is. 3d.
This work contains the ripened conclusions
based on the writer’s life-long and wellknown scientific researches. It is a unique
exposition, both from the philosophic and
the historical point of view, of nineteenth
century thought on the central problems of
life.
HIRD, DENNIS.
An Easy Outline of Evolution.
With numerous illustrations. Cloth, 2s. 6d.
net, by post 2s. iod.
Written in the simplest possible language
and referring to the latest researches, this
work is intended to aid the busy general
reader to grasp the arguments in favour of
Evolution as they now stand.
“ Admirably lucid, simple, and connected. The
serious student, desirous of acquainting himself
with a subject at once fascinating and imperative
for all who would know, could find no more helpful
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work. Mr. Hird has ever had before him, in its
preparation, those who have not yet read any con
nected account of Evolution, and the avoidance of
scientific technicalities and terminology greatly
simplifies the study.”—Newcastle Daily Leader.
HOLYOAKE, G. J.
The Origin and Nature of Secularism;
Showing that where Freethought commonly
ends Secularism begins. 136 pp.; cloth,
is. net, by post is. 3d.
The Logie of Death.
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Two Great Preachers;
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HUXLEY, THOMAS HENRY.
Possibilities and Impossibilities.
14 pp.; 3d., by post 3^d.
McCABE, J.
(lately Very Rev. Father Antony, O.S.F.).
From Rome to Rationalism;
or, Wiiy I Left the Church.
32 pp.; 4d., by post 5d.
Modern Rationalism;
Being a Sketch of the Progress of the
Rationalistic Spirit in the Nineteenth Cen
tury. 193 pp.; cloth, 2s. 6d. post free;
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In a succession of six informing sketches
Mr. McCabe delineates the work of the
critical or Agnostic spirit.
The Religion of the Twentieth Century.
is., by post is. 2d. Contents:—The Right
and Duty of Reason—The Effect of Science
on Religion—Rational Analysis of the Old
Faith—Authority an Impossible Basis—
Morality as a Connecting Link—A New
and a Firmer Faith.
ROBERTSON, JOHN M.
Christianity and Mythology.
xviii.-484 pp.; 8s. 6d. net, by post 9s.
“This magnificent work will be welcomed........
It is a reference library in itself upon the subjects
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A Short History of Christianity.
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In this work the author endeavours to
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Pagan Christs:
Studies in Comparative Hierology. 8s. 6d.
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This volume is designed to complement
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Christianity and Mythology. That was a
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present volume aims at a constructive his
torical synthesis of Christian origins, intro
duced by a discussion of the rationale of
religion as it is variously presented by Mr.
Frazer, Mr. Jevons, and other writers.
“ It is impossible not to admire the learning and
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fields, and who does it, moreover, with an ability of
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“ Every page bears witness to research, often in
obscure quarters, and it is impossible not to admire
the resolute industry with which he ransacks litera
ture generally in support of his theories. ”—Liverpool
Mercury.
Letters on Reasoning.
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3s. iod.
“ To the non-academic, home student a work like
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SPILLER, GUSTAV (Compiled by).
Hymns of Love and Duty for the Young.
80 pp.; 8d. net, by post 9d.
Comprising 90 hymns and two sets of
responses—one on ethical ideas and duties,
the other'on the Sacred Books of the World.
The book is in use in various Ethical
Classes in London, the Leicester Secular
Sunday-school, etc.
WATTS, CHARLES.
The Claims of Christianity Examined
from a Rationalist Standpoint.
62 pp.; 6d., by post 7d.
In a lucid and orderly method, espe
cially suited for the needs of young men
and women of an inquiring habit of mind,
the well-known Freethought propagandist
combats the thesis laid down in Dr. Alex
ander Stewart’s Handbook of Christian
Evidences.
AGENTS FOR THE R. P. A.:
WATTS & CO., 17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
�A D VER TISEMENTS
^fORKS BY THE LATE
PROFESSOR frjEWMAN.
The following works by the late Francis William Newman (Emeritus
Professor of University College, and brother of Cardinal Newman) are
now on sale by the Rationalist Press Association, Ltd :—
Christianity in its Cradle. 172 pp.; cloth, 2s. 6d. post free.
Negro Slavery : Anglo-Saxon Abolition of. 136 pp.; cloth, 2s., by post 2s. 3d.
The Soul: Its Sorrows and its Aspirations. 162 pp.; cloth, 2s., by post 2s. 3d.
Hebrew Theism: The Common Basis of Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedism.
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A Christian Commonwealth. 60 pp.; cloth, is., by post is. 2d.
What is Christianity without Christ ? 28 pp.; paper, 6d., by
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The Relation of Professional to Liberal Knowledge.
30
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THE FAITH OF AN AGNOSTIC;
Or, First Essays in Rationalism.
By GEORGE FORESTER.
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that commands respect.”—Liverpool Mercury.
“The Faith of an Agnostic one of those books of inestimable value to all intelligent and serious
persons who take any real interest in the momentous questions of life and death. The author,
Mr. George Forester, has a delightfully lucid style
This indispensable book.”—Reynolds's News
paper.
“What is best in the book, perhaps, is its atmosphere of honesty and kindliness. The reader
who disagrees will find no cause to accuse its author of any lack of earnestnsss or reverence. The
humanitarian teaching of the book, especially in a chapter headed ‘ Thoughts in a Meat Market,’
will interest even those who have no turn for metaphysics.”—Morning Leader.
WORKS BY SAMUEL LAING.
A MODERN ZOROASTRIAN.
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REVELATION.
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“ With an admirable enterprise, admirably seconded by the author of Supernatural Religion^, the
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quarter of a century ; and no other writer, I think, has even attempted to compete with it on its
special lines—the collation of all the documentary evidence for and against the claim of the Christian
Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles to be the record of a supernatural revelation. England can
hardly be said to be in the forefront of critical research, but in respect of this truly learned and
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up its purpose with such invincible industry, such all-regarding vigilance, such constant soundness o
judgment, such perfect fairness and candour, and such complete command of the whole special bterature of the subject True to his early devotion of himself to the single-hearted search for truth,
the author has revised his whole work, bringing it abreast of the latest developments of criticism
and the latest documentary discoveries....... The book, in short, is a marvel of mere comm ercia
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By M. M. MANGASARIAN.
With Prefatory Note by George Jaeob Holyoake.
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the lecturer of the Independent Religious Society of Chicago, and addresses each Sunday
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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On liberty
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Mill, John Stuart [1806-1873]
Columbine, William Brailsford
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 89. [7] p. : ill. (front. port.) ; 22 cm.
Series title: R.P.A. Cheap Reprints
Series number: No. 18
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Includes biographical sketch of Mill. Printed in double columns. Issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited. Publisher's advertisements on unnumbered pages at the end, and continued inside and on back cover. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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Watts & Co.
Date
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1903
Identifier
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RA883
RA1822
N486
Subject
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Philosophy
Utilitarianism
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (On liberty), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Liberty
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ETHICS AND .ESTHETICS
OB,
ART AND ITS INFLUENCE ON OUR
SOCIAL PROGRESS.
‘Stctnre
DELIVERED BEFORE THE
SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY,
ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
ON
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 5th MARCH, 1876.
BY
Dfi. G. G. ZERFFI, F.R.S.L., F.R. Hist. S.
One of the Lecturers in IUI. Department of Science and Art.
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY THE SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY.
1876.
Price Threepence.
�SYLLABUS.
1. The component elements of man’s nature.
2. Reason and imagination.
3. Ethics and ^Esthetics.
4. The Cosmical Laws in Nature and Art.
5. Distinction between “ Sublime ” and “ Beau
tiful.”
6. The most important conditions of Art.
7. Art as it shows itself in the three groups of
mankind.
8. Religion has been always one of the prin
cipal agents in exciting our innate dynamic force
to produce works of Art. The relative changes
in Religions reflect corresponding changes in Art.
9. Oriental and Greek Art. Architecture and
Sculpture.
10. Christian Art, and its distinguishing fea
tures from Ancient Art. Carving and Painting.
11. Gothicism, a revival of Indo-Buddhism and
Renaissance, a revival of Grseco-Romanism. Ideal
ism and Realism.
12. Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, the English, Ger
mans, Italians, and French on Art. Our social
progress as reflected in Art. Hogarth and Flax
man, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Gainsborough.
Neglect of ^Esthetics. Symmetrophobia. China
mania. Rinkomania. Conclusion.
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS ;
OB,
ART AND ITS INFLUENCE ON OUR SOCIAL PROGRESS.
HERE can be no doubt that there are con
flicting and often contradictory constituent
elements in man. He is God’s fairest creature, but
often capable of the meanest and most cruel actions,
of which no animal is guilty. This is, and will always
be the case, whenever these conflicting elements
are not properly developed and trained. Man, at
times, is more stupid than an animal; the assertion
that he learnt his first steps in art from plants and
animals, beginning with the lowest animals, is not
a mere hypothetical assertion, but a fact. Man, in
his first periods of development, often acts on mere
unconscious impulses.
He recognises outward
objects, sees them only as detached incoherent units,
and cannot yet observe them as the emanations of
one general idea, according to which they are
formed. At a later period, however, he becomes
conscious of his power to recognise detached objects
in their coherence, and traces in them general
features which unite them into grand harmonious
groups. The more he extends this latter power,
the more he becomes master of the surrounding
phenomena of the outer world, and the more his
artistic powers develope. The force to create is
as inborn in man as the force to think. The former
power is based on imagination affecting his emo
tional element, the latter on reason affecting his
intellectual capacity. Our reason must be guided
and cultivated as carefully as the art of walking.
A child left to itself would scarcely ever learn how
T
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ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
to walk upright—it must be taught to do so. Our
imagination requires the same training as our
reason. Necessity is the mother of invention, and
all that is unnecessary is looked upon as superfluous
and useless. But necessity is not the only mother
that leads us on to activity. As soon as we have
satisfied our wants, they cease to excite us to
further action, and we step into a second stage of
our intellectual faculty; we strive to embellish, to
beautify the means by which we have succeeded in
satisfying our wants. A knife with an ornamented
or carved handle does not cut better than one with
a plain handle; neither does a heavy club kill a
brother more quickly because its handle is ingeni
ously decorated with geometrical patterns ; a plain
pint jar does not hold more water because it is
glazed or painted with flowers and groups of dancing
nymphs, and still even savages decorate, ornament,
and embellish their every-day utensils, their huts,
and their very bodies. The faculty, the striving to
improve upon nature, is as much part of our entity
as breathing, eating, drinking, and money-making.
The power of enjoying and becoming conscious of
the cause of our enjoyment ought to be as much
cultivated as our endeavours to know. To cultivate
our reasoning faculty one-sidedly, and to pretend that
the world is a mere machine, is one of the most objec
tionable fundamental errors, one which would turn
humanity into a grand fraternity of “ Bounderbys ”
continually echoing the question into your ears,
What is the good of flowers on a carpet, or of
mouldings on a house, if only the sewage be good,
the ventilation perfect, and the wet kept out ? So
long as a nation is in a transition state from bar
barism into civilization, these “ Bounderbys ” reign
supreme ; but the moment that higher ethics take
the place of low conceptions concerning God and
the world, the inborn force of aesthetics begins to
ferment, to work in man, and to drive him to resign
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ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
his Hebrew-Puritan coarseness, and to begin to orna
ment, to improve the outer aspect of his houses and
towns, his every-day utensils, and to foster with
great energy the culture of the Fine Arts. As little
as birds can rise and sing in the heavens whilst the
storm is raging, but will wait until it is abated, so
it is with artists; their hearts and imagination are
dumb whilst utilitarian indifference oppresses the
social atmosphere, or political passionsrageinanation.
If the Fine Arts could be imported, as tallow is from
Russia, indigo from India, or turnips from Sweden, we
might do a tolerably good trade ; but the Fine Arts
do not grow like mushrooms in musty and moist,
in dark and hidden places, but only in the broad
daylight of general culture. It is not in vain that
we speak in the artistic world so much of our
“ stars.” Stars shine only when there is night;
the darker the night the brighter are the stars,
which often lose their lustre in the light of a tole
rably bright full-moon of criticism. We can see,
however, the bright dawn of a greater love of art
tinting our horizon; but we must learn, above all,
to look upon aesthetics as an important branch of
our education. We are living in the amiable con
ceit that a knowledge of the “ Beautiful” is a mere
matter of opinion. We wrap ourselves in the say
ing “de gustibus non est disputandum.” But we
dispute about the eastern postures, the real presence,
the right of believing in a personal devil, the es
sence of the Divinity, and the efficacy of embroid
ered petticoats for dancing priests, who patronise a
kind of art which has long gone out of fashion, and
will as little come into general use as “ tattooing ”
or pretty silk tailcoats in union with iron armour,
spears, cross-bows, and helmets.
If there be no absolute law in aesthetics, there is
none in ethics. For ethics, in fact, regulate relative
beauty in actions, whilst aesthetics regulate relative
taste in forms. Ethics teach us how to act rightly ;
B
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ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
eesthetics, how to see and appreciate beauty. The
one discerns between good and evil; the other be
tween beautiful and ugly. The one is philosophy
of action ; the other philosophy of form. The one
may be stated to be the logic of virtue; the other
the logic of taste. But between virtue and taste
there is merely a formal difference : the one affect
ing, as I have said, reason ; the other imagination
both constituent faculties of our mind. Ethics
teach us the idealisation of our nature, elevatingus into true human beings ; and aesthetics teach us.
the idealization of nature, transfiguring her worksinto works of art. The difference between the twolies in the fact that the moral teacher influencesever-changing agents and agencies, whilst the
aesthetical teacher influences the highest god-like
nature of man, through which works, that may de
light humanity for thousands of years, can be cre
ated in stone, on paper, or on canvas. Morality
is an utterly abstract and at the same time re
lative notion, like “ beauty:” but both may be
defined as based on the laws of the “ Cosmosand.
the Greeks used the same word for “ beautiful” asfor the “ universe.” The laws of nature form the
basis of all our right actions, and only so far as our
actions are in accordance with these eternal laws
can we say that we are really moral. It is a factthat the more nations deviated from these laws, the
more they built themselves “codes,” based on a
heated imagination ; the more monstrosities they
created in arts, the more sanguinary cruelties they
perpetrated in history. For morals and arts have
one and the same basis—namely, conformity to the
laws of nature. Morals consist in our becoming
masters of our own nature, and make us fit to live
as human beings in a social condition. This is ex
actly what eesthetics teach us with reference to the
forms of nature. We have to learn how to use the
laws of nature in creating anything so as to make
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
7
it a real work of art. The question whether our
reason or our sentiment was to be most affected by
a work of art led to two different schools, which
still leave it unsettled. Sentiment was to be placed
above sensation, or imagination above emotion ; as
though we could have sensations and emotions with
out our sentiments being aroused by our imagina
tion through outward impressions. The question
cannot rest on effects, but first on causes, producing
certain effects. The cause of all our striving after
emotions is found in the intellectual force with
which we are endowed, and which, driven into
false grooves through an imagination wrongly acted
upon, may seek for emotions which are either false,
ugly, pernicious, or monstrous. Nature everywhere
shows forces forming endless forms in space and
time. Here she differs from art, which has to bring
in space and time the creations of an unlimited
imagination into limited shapes and forms. Tnfinity
is the attribute of nature; finiteness the element of
art. Still, whilst nature in her infinity works
only to transform, or apparently to destroy, art
produces in her finiteness works which, stamped
with the power of intellect, outlast the works
of nature, and can be said to be immortal. How
many beautiful men and women passed away
whilst the marble-wrought gods of Phidias still live
amongst us. Where are TEschylos, Sophokles, Euri
pides, Shakespeare, Schiller, and Goethe ? The crea
tures of their imagination still live amongst us.
We hear the unrestrained curses of “ Prometheus
Bound ” resounding in our hearts ; we mourn with
Antigone ■ we are horrified with Medea; Brutus,
Antony, have vanished, but their memories, their
very speeches, have been recorded for ever by the
immortal Shakespeare ; Mary Stuart has been
clothed in an eternal, never-fading beauty by
Schiller; and Faust and the Devil have become
incarnations of a higher type through Goethe’s
master-mind.
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
Gazing at the heavens on a starry night, we see, in
addition to myriads of sparkling worlds floating in
the air, a great quantity of nebulse. Either decayed
systems of worlds, or worlds in formation. Worlds
which have lost their centre of gravity and fallen
to pieces ; or worlds which are seeking, according to
the general law of gravitation, to form a central
body by the attraction of cosmical ether. The one
phenomenon is that of destruction, the other that of
formation. This double cosmical process is continu
ally repeating itself in the development of art. Art
is like a mirror—whatever looks into it is reflected
by it. If a poor untrained imagination stares into
the mirror, no one must be astonished that poor and
distorted images result. Nature furnishes us with
mortar and stones for the building, but the archi
tect’s intellectual force has to arrange the elements
and to bring them into an artistic shape. Nature
furnishes us with flowers, trees, animals, and men ;
but the artist has to reproduce and to group them so
as to impress the objective forms of nature with his
own intellectual subjectivity. To become thoroughly
conscious of the distinction between the “ sublime ”
and “ beautiful ” is the first step towards a correct
understanding of works of art.
During the long period of the geological formation
of the earth, when mountains were towered upon
mountains, rocks upheaved, islands subsided ; when
air, water, fire, and solid matter seemed engaged in
never-ending conflict—nature was sublime. The
dynamic force appeared to be the only working
element in nature, and the counterbalancing static
force seemed to be without influence. Gradually,
vegetable and animal life in their first crude forms
commenced to show themselves. Zoophytes deve
loped into megatheriums and mastadons. Mam
moths and elks sported on plains which now form
the mountain-tops of our continents.
Scarcely
visible coral insects were still engaged in construct-
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
9
ing mountain chains, and a luxuriant vegetation
covered the small continents which were surrounded
by apparently endless seas. Such changes, trans
formations, and convulsions are gigantic, grand,
awe-inspiring—sublime—but not beautiful. When
ever nature is at work disturbing the air with elec
tric currents or shaking huge mountains so that they
bow their lofty summits, or when the dry soil is rent
asunder, and sends forth streams of glowing lava,
we are in the presence of the sublime—but not of
the beautiful. Whenever man’s nature is overawed,
whenever he is made to feel his impotence by the
phenomena of nature, he faces the sublime. When,
however, the cosmical forces had expended their
exuberant powers, when a diversified climate had
produced those plants and animals that surround
us, when man appeared in his threefold develop
ment, as black, yellow, and white man on this re
volving planet, and by degrees reached his highest
development, then only art acquired, through man’s
consciousness of what is beautiful, a real meaning
and existence on earth. Science eternally tries to
vanquish error. Industry subdues matter, and uses
it for utilitarian purposes : but the vocation of art
is to produce beauty for beauty’s sake, and to idealise
nature.
Nature produces like art. It is characteristic that
some people continually talk of the Divinity as a
“ maker,” which at once shows the low conception
they have of the incomprehensible first cause. We
may talk of a “ watchmaker ” or a “ shoemaker,”
but to speak of a “ world-maker ” degrades the
divinity which endows matter with inherent laws,
and then, according to the immutable law of causation, allows it unconsciously to assume its varie
gated forms. The products of art, on the other
hand, are the results of the conscious intellectual
power of the artist. It is the free yet well-regu
lated consciousness of the artist that elevates his
�IO
ETHICS AND ^ESTHETICS.
productions into works of art. Undoubtedly the
great store-house of the artist is nature ; he learns
from her how to create, but he has to discern, to
combine, to adapt, to select his forms, and to know
the laws of combination, adaptation, and, above all,
selection; for the whole success of an artist, in what
ever branch he works, depends on his power of
selection and rejection. This power of selection
varies in the three groups of mankind.
The negro is triangular-headed (prognathos), with
his facial lines drawn downwards; lie is the fossil,
or the antediluvian man, and as such indulges in an
antediluvian taste ; his mechanical skill is that of
a child; he never goes beyond geometrical figures
and glaringly bright colours. The negro is still the
woolly-headed, animal-faced being represented on
the tombs of the Pharaohs, because his bodily struc
ture and facial lines have not altered during thou
sands of years. In studying his artistic products,
his customs and manners, we are struck with their
resemblance to those which our more direct fore
fathers, the Turanians and Aryans, used when still
in a savage state. They used, and still use, the
same kind of flint instruments ; their pottery is the
same; their clubs, paddles, the cross-beams of their
huts, are adorned with the same rope and serpent
like windings and twistings.
Next we have the Turanian (from “ tura,” swift
ness of a horse); he is square and short-headed,
(brachikephalos), the traditionary yellow man. His
face is flat, his nose deeply sunken between his
prominent cheeks, and his reasoning faculty only
developed to a certain degree. He has small, oblique
eyes, the lines of his face being turned upwards,
expressing cunning and jocularity. He is an excel
lent rider, but a slow, though steady walker. He
looks on nature with a nomadic shepherd’s eye, and
not with that of a settled artist. He possesses
remarkable technical ability, has great powers of
�ETHICS AND ^ESTHETICS.
11
imitation, can produce geometrical ornamentations
of the most complicated and ingenious character,
and excels in a realistic reproduction of flowers,
fishes, butterflies, and birds; he has no sense for
perspective, and no talent for modelling by means
of shade and light. He is incapable of drawing a
dog, a horse, or a human being.
Finally, we have the Aryan, the long or oval
headed man (dolichokephalos), the historical white
man, the crowning product of the cosmical forces
of nature so far as our globe is concerned. His
facial lines are composed of the emblems of the two
conflicting forces working throughout nature, the
static, represented by a horizontal, and the dynamic
by a vertical line, both framed in by an oval. To
him alone we owe art in its progressive develop
ment and its highest sense. He surpasses the two
other groups of humanity not only in technical
skill, but especially in his inventive and reasoning
power, critical discernment, and purity of artistic
taste. The white man was unquestionably the
founder of all the different religious systems. He
tried with his inborn faculty of intellect to answer
the three questions : Where from ? what for ? and
where to ? He measured synthetically the three
dimensions of space and time ; he tried to trace the
three ever-stable and still ever-varying phenomena
of creation, preservation, and transformation. Art
was the most important means to give utterance in
forms to these answers ; and thus the art-forms of
the Orientals, as well as of the Greeks, are but con
tinuous commentaries on their religious conceptions.
It is this fact that necessitates a correct knowledge
of the phases, developments, and changes in the
different religions, as the abstract products of our
endeavours to solve the mysterious questions forced
upon us by nature, and their concrete results in
visible forms by means of works of art. The In
dians, in striving to give shape and form to abstract
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ETHICS AND ESTHETICS.
notions, lost themselves through an ill-trained, over
whelming imagination, and produced caricatures.
The Persians, in worshipping the Deity in pure
thoughts, engendering pure words and producing
pure deeds, built magnificent palaces, but scarcely
any temples. We have no representations of their
Divinities ; neither of Ormuzd nor of Ahriman, but
we have Fervers and Devas, the former as winged
human beings, the latter as winged animals or com
positions of animals, chimeras, or as symbols of the
King’s power. The theological, religious, and sym
bolical elements are altogether neglected in the
Perso-Assyrian and Babylonian reliefs. We have
the friends, relations, attendants, and servants, of
the King; tributaries submitting to Kings ; officers
holding fly-flaps of feathers; horses crossing rivers ;
kings hunting and slaying lions ; armies before be
sieged towns; warriors returning from battle; in
fantry and horse with spears, bows and arrows;
boats floating on rivers; galleys going to sea;
damsels and children with musical instruments;
and mathematical tablets with calculations of square
roots. We might study all this and verify what I say
at this moment, if our magnificent British Museum
were not a book, provided with the seven seals of
Sabbatarian bigotry, closed to the nation as a means
of higher education on the Sunday. We should see
in these Assyrian works of art the very opposite of
Egyptian art; the one the outgrowth of man’s capa
city as a human being, and the other the result of agloomy, mighty hierarchy looking on man as created
for another world—neglecting houses, but construct
ing monumental temples in honour of the gods. In
every form Egyptian art reflects the stifling influ
ences of a hierarchy. But the East never succeeded,
whether in Asia or Africa, in freeing itself from the
influence of the marvellous. Now the marvellous
can only form a certain constituent part in man’s
artistic products; so far as it reflects the sublime
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
13
impressions of natural phenomena. These impres
sions, working through our senses on our intellect,
must come under the regulating and checking in
fluences of reason, engendering symmetry, eurythmy,
proportion, action, and expression. The Indians
tried to explain the phenomena of nature in an ab
stract sense, and to bring metaphysics into outward
shapes ; the Persians were bent on the glorification
of power, visible on earth in the person of the despot,
and their sculptures are but monotonous rows of
stiff attendants as far as the men are concerned.
The animals are treated with greater freedom, be
cause the artist was not tied down by court rules or
ceremonials, as in the treatment of the King and
his myrmidons. The Egyptians tried to copy the
material phenomena of nature, brought them into geo
metrical forms, and marked them with realistically
drawn symbols. When a deity as some force of nature
was invested with a form, the form being one with
some religious dogma or mystic emblem of the power
of the gods, such form could not be changed; for it
became in art what technical words are in science.
When once a form with its symbols and emblems
was settled, as that of Brahma, Vishnu, S’iva, Osiris,
or Isis, or the serpent fixed as the symbol of
eternity, the hawk as that of light, the inner spi
ritual life of the artist was tied down to outward
forms with special inward meanings, and the con
straining sway of misunderstood nature on one side,
and the stationary precepts of an omnipotent hier
archy on the other, entangled the artist’s imagina
tion and paralysed every effort of his individual
subjectivity. The different artistic forms of the
Eastern nations became by degrees petrified and
immutable national and religious incrustations.
Even when geometrical figures, flowers or leaves,
and animals were used, the combinations were
marred by a want of harmony between the dynamic
and static elements in their composition. There is
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ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
always a “too much,” rarely a “too little.” The
East rent nature asunder, looked upon matter as
evil, and yet matter was to be used to bring the
eternal spirit into form. The element of S’iva,
Ahriman, or Typhon was to give expression to the
essence of Brahma, Ormuzd, or Osiris. What
wonder, then, that the artists succeeded so badly,
and that their gods looked in abstracto as. well as
in concreto so much like infernal monstrosities., So
long as the Greeks were in these Asiatic fetters
they produced similar forms, as also did Christian
art in its infancy, as may be seen in the South
Kensington Museum in the splendid cast of the
Buddhistic gate of the Sanchi Tope, which is close
to a cast by Veit Stoss, a Nuremberg sculptor of the
fifteenth century. But as soon as the self-conscious
spirit of youthful humanity was aroused in the
Greeks through their poets and philosophers, art
improved in the same ratio as the hierarchical
power and the superstitious belief in their gods
diminished. Feelings and emotions were as much
fostered with the Greeks as the consciousness of
these phenomena. Prometheus may be said to
have been the best and most intelligible emblem of
classic heathen humanity, as Faust may be con
sidered the representative of romantic Christian
humanity. Prometheus longed to bring matter
into form; Faust to know what kept matter and
spirit together, and what became of the spirit if
once freed from matter. Prometheus made man of
clay, stole fire from heaven, and vivified the image
with his stolen fire. Faust knew that the heavenly
fire was a force over which he had no control, and
he called upon a spirit of the lower burning regions
to teach him — “how all one whole harmonious
weaves, each in the other works and lives. The
formal outer-form is the longing of the Greek
Faust, and the spiritual inner-life the aspiration of
the Teuton Prometheus. Architecture and sculp-
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
I5
ture were the distinguishing characters of Greek
art; carving and painting were the elements of
Christian art, especially in its first slow develop
ment, struggling to free itself in architecture as
well as in sciences from the oppressive influences of
an Indo-Egyptian hierarchy. To the immortal
honoui- of that hierarchy it must be recorded that
they helped humanity in the development of art
with all their power. I will not enter into a pain
ful inquiry as to how far they endeavoured, like
the Egyptian priests or the Buddhistic Bonzes, to
divert mankind from thinking and reasoning through
the erection of mighty churches. These edifices
were constructed in the old Egyptian sense so far
as the subterranean vaults were concerned. The
superstructures were simply revivals of IndoBuddhistic rock-hewn temples, placed as detached,
free -standing monuments in the midst of crooked
small streets, with crooked little houses in which
very crooked-thinking beings must have lived, shut
ting out the glorious daylight by means of painted
glass or numberless leaden hexagons—probably so
many symbols of the fetters which humanity had
to shake off through a revival of Grseco-Romanism
in art and in our modes of thinking, building, and
painting. How intimately our intellectual and sci
entific progress is interwoven with our progress in
morals and political freedom may nowhere be
studied to greater advantage than in the artistic
life of the Greeks under Perikles, and the artistic
movement of Italy during the sixteenth century,
when the invention of the art of printing, the dis
covery of America, the study of the ancient classics
and the Reformation brought new life, new ideas
amongst the masses ; and we must all be convinced
that art requires a certain moral and intellectual
condition under which alone it will live. If the
intellectual or moral atmosphere be changed, the
artists either work in an Egyptian or Indo-Assyrian
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ETHICS AND ^ESTHETICS.
style. If a continual abhorrence of the body as theseat of thousands of devils be preached, we shall be
furnished by our artists with those emaciated, elon
gated, spider-armed and legged saints that adorned
the churches with their meagre half-starved frames
during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. We
shall have pictures representing men and women
roasted, boiled, quartered, pinched with iron tongs,
or broken on the wheel, or starved in dungeons.
The influence of such an art must have been
terrible on the ethical or moral education of man
kind. For what pity could man have for his fel
low-creatures when his eyes rested on the frightful
scenes of the torments which St. Catherine under
went when broken on the wheel; St. Primatius,
who was burnt alive ; St. Peter, who was crucified
with his head downwards; or St. Lambert, who was
beaten with a club, and so on ? Could men be ex
pected to have treated their wretched fellow sinners
with great kindness, when they could point to a
crucified God, and to his best followers tormented to
death ? How much art was the mere reflection of
this diabolical spirit of the darkest ages, and how
much art again contributed to the demoralised hard
ening of the masses, it would be difficult to decide.
It is a further fact that, with the revival of classic
feelings in poetry and sciences, art turned with
horror from these ugly scenes, and painted the
Virgin with the child, bringing men through a more
humane representation of the divinity into nearer
relations with our higher aspirations. But if the
surroundings of the artists be changed again through
the superstitions of an ignorant mob, the despotic
organisation of a government, or the rule of a wild
and bigoted party, the artistic force will also change
or die out altogether. The artist acts only to a cer
tain extent on the public, whilst the public re-acts
with a combined and often entirely crushing “ vis
inertias ” on the artist. I have only here to mention
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
17
the evils which Puritanism, with its Hebrew hatred of
art and refinement, produced in this once“ merry Old
England.” Artists can often only reflect the intel
lectual atmosphere in which they live. How is a
man who sees nothing but emaciated, beggarly, or
sanctimonious faces, thin limbs, hungry looks, dwel
lings bare of all domestic comfort, decayed brick
houses and crumbling walls, to paint convivial
scenes of happiness and joy ? Or let me draw
another picture; how is a man to paint mighty
dramatic scenes on a canvas, when he has to live in
an atmosphere of so-called modern respectability,
seeing always the same bland smiles around him,
the same trimmed whiskers, the same stiff collars,
with the same faultless but not less stiff bows, hear
ing the same stereotyped insignificant phrases about
the weather, the funds, the high prices of coals or
butcher’s meat, receiving an order for a so-called
nice little picture, with plenty of sentiment in a
dead cock-robin, and the important question put
under it, “ Who killed cock-robin ?” in old Gothic
letters ; or another for a yawning Christ, who, tired
of his daily work, does not enjoy his god-head,
brightly looking towards the hour when he is with
his last breath on the Cross to redeem humanity.
Such a poetical conception, painted yawning, is
truly a sign of our times, but not one of the most
encouraging. We are just passing through a crisis.
We were too strongly Platonists in our notion of
art until recently. Plato used to place artists in
the same category with hair-dressers, cooks, and
eheats, who continually try to belie us. This is a
mean view for so divine a philosopher to take,
but nothing is too mean for a divine philoso
pher to assert when it suits his preconceived hypo
theses. Aristotle improved on Plato, and advocated
“ limitation,” “ order,” and “ symmetry.” Aristotle
already treats of “ reality” in art, which has to as
sume the concrete form of beauty, and wishes that
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
our “imitation. ” (jiipr)cris') of nature should be done
under the influence of purification (icaOapais), and he
admits the effect which art must have on the gene
ral improvement of morals as they work ethically,
pathetically, and practically. Plotinus, of the
Alexandrian school, is next to be studied. Self
motion is with him the essence of absolute beauty,
which self-motion is to be expressed in a work of art.
With him a beautiful work of art is not a mere re
production of reality, but he requires to see in it
the reflection of the “ moving (subjective) spirit” of
the artist j as soon as the moving idea is not to be
traced, he condemns the work as “ ugly.” Influ
enced by the spreading “ spiritualism ” of Christia
nity, he assumes “matter” as “evil,” as the nega
tive element of the “ ideal ” of “ good.” The vivi
fying and idealising element giving form to thoughts
is the essential element of beautv. He goes beyond
the principles of antiquity in sculpture and wishes
the art of painting to concentrate all its efforts on
the expression of an inner life through the eye. For
nearly 1500 years art is left without a theoretical
guide. After a life of beauty in the antique, we
have a revived second life. This resurrection took
place through the Renaissance, this true and mighty
offspring of the Reformation. “ Love,” in its most
sublime meaning, became the fundamental basis of
modern art. It was in this glorious island that
aesthetics received, like “ political economy,” a sys
tematic form for the first time. We have continued
to cultivate the study of political economy, with its
regulations of demand and supply; we have even
gone so far as richly to reward fat cocks and pigs,
cows and bulls, big-eared rabbits, goitered pigeons,
and have our horse, baby, and barmaid shows ; but
we have not continued the study of aesthetics, and
have shut out the very word from our modern phi
losophical writings. Hutcheson, however (16941747), revived the study of the beautiful, and Cousin
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
I9
is honest enough to accord to the Englishman the
priority in having placed sentiment above sensa
tion, and written on the laws of the beautiful.
Hutcheson distinguished the faculty which perceives
pure beauty from the two which were generally sup
posed to comprise the entire soul, namely, under
standing and physical sensibility. The idea that
art would decline when metaphysics, as some mate
rialists chose to call aesthetics, flourished, is not borne
out by facts in art-history ; neither is that perni
cious idea correct, “ that the arts of poetry, painting
and sculpture may exclusively flourish under a
despotic government.” Those who have studied art
history may point to the period of Perikles, under
whom art flourished, and attained the very highest
development in sculpture and architecture. Art
began to flourish during the Middle Ages in the freetowns of Germany and Italy, and not under the
despotic sway of the Imperial House of Hapsburg.
French art revived under the Republic and during
the Liberal Government of Louis Philippe; it flour
ished, and continues to flourish, under the sway of
the liberal-minded Hohenzollerns in Prussia; it was
neither under the despotic King John, nor under
Henry VIII., but under the great and immortal
Queen Elizabeth that Shakespeare wrote his master
works, his divine historical paintings in words.
Freedom of thought in poetry and art may exist
often under a despot, whilst even a Commonwealth,
if swayed by purely utilitarian ideas, will stifle and
kill art altogether. Quetelet is incorrect in saying
that “modern art has suffered from a too servile
imitation of the ancients.” Art has suffered
from a neglect of the study of the antique, and
from the false notion that a slavish imitation
of nature could be art. Whilst Germans and French
continued in the path which Hutcheson was the
first to point out, and introduced the study of
aesthetics into all their schools, whilst no great
�20
ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
French or German philosopher could dare to separate
ethics and aesthetics, our great thinkers consider the
emotional beneath their dignity. They propound
that only what can be weighed, demonstrated, or
calculated deserves an earnest man’s attention. It
was that matter of fact, philosophical Bounderby,
Feed, who said that the “ Fine arts are nothing else
but the language of nature, which we brought into
the world with us, and have unlearned by disuse,
and so find the greatest difficulty in recovering it.
Abolish the use of articulate sounds and writing
among mankind for a century and every man would
be a painter, an actor, and an orator.” It is per
fectly astounding at times to see what some of our
authorities venture to put on paper. Is there a
single fact in the whole history of humanity to bear
out this bold paradoxical assertion of a not entirely
dementicated writer. But the mischief was done.
In vain did Sir Joshua Reynolds try through theory
and practice to raise art from the contempt into
which it had fallen with us; in vain did many
masters like Gainsborough paint; in vain did Flax
man with his chisel endeavour to revive classic
sculpture, in surpassing many antique products and
emulating the very best works of antiquity; in
vain did Haydon sigh for higher aims in art, for
historical paintings, and sacrifice himself at last,
seeking despairingly death rather than a life under
the baneful influence of indifference. Hogarth, this
immortal Walter Scott in colours, Shaftesbury,
Henry Home, and Edmund Burke also contributed
some extraordinary theories on the study of aesthetics.
It was the pride of Hogarth to have discovered the
t( serpent-line,” or rather the waving line, as the
line of beauty; so that a wriggling worm is the
eternal prototype of beauty. The French early
advocated a coarse realism, whilst the Germans are
often too metaphysical and, to the detriment of
technical execution, lay too much stress on the idea
�ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
21
which the artist intends to carry out. We have in
later years made gigantic strides towards a correct
study and appreciation of taste in general. We
have done much towards an improvement in art.
We possess more means for cultivating art than any
other nation. No second British Museum, no
second South Kensington Museum exists in the
world. We need only employ the same energy
with which we collect old, quaint-looking China,
always with a keen eye to business, to attain great
artistic results. We admire plates dressed as ladies
in brocade and silk with flounces and lace, and
ladies or mandarins walking about like tea-pots or
flower-vases. Our symmetrophobia, which makes
us hate every straight line, and our Chinamania
are excellent signs, not less than our Rinkomania.
and Cookomania. We have at last awakened to
the emotional, if not yet in the right, at least in a
better direction. It is no more the lisping spiritual
adviser that interests us at a game of croquet. We
prefer an old plate with bright flowers to him, and
paper our walls with cups and saucers instead of
whitewashing them; we do not discuss any longer
the last dull sermon ; we slide on little wheels on
asphalte-ice, and prove to the world that with horse
racing, rowing, and rinking we intend to be the
ancient Greeks in modern Ulster coats ! All these
freaks of a misdirected taste will die out; and now
that the emotional is aroused, it will, when directed
into a proper groove, produce marvels. We had
once a Michael Angelo in words, what hinders us
from having a Shakespeare in colours. Nothing
but the indifference and tastelessness of the public.
Let us only treat aesthetics at the central seats ot
our learning, in our colleges, but essentially in our
ladies’ schools, with the same fervour as ethics, and
cur symmetrophobia, Chinamania and Rinkomania
will soon become matters of the past. There ought
not to be a town with a mayor in this wealthy
�22
ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
kingdom that has not its public library, its museum,
and, above all, its picture-gallery filled with the
products of our talented, striving, home artists.
Wedgwood made his fortune, and raised English
'china to works of art, through English artists;
Minton did the same; and the Doulton manufactory
of terra-cotta, &c. has recently sent for the Inter
national Exhibition at Philadelphia works of art,
exclusively the work of English artists, that will do
honour to our progress in this long neglected branch.
We must try to support talent wherever we find it,
and not only pay fabulous sums to those who
happen to be fashionable, but to all those who strive
to improve their artistic powers, and could do so
still more if they received half the support an old
China tea-pot or a Japanese monstrosity is capable
of commanding, or is afforded to the establishment
of rinks, which display angular gymnastics to the
detriment of our sound limbs. Courses on aesthetics
proving their identity with sound ethics, arousing
and satisfying our emotional nature in a higher
direction, would be of inestimable advantage to our
political economy, our taste, and our fame as an
artistic nation.
In conclusion, I may draw your attention to the
three different points from which we may study
aesthetics. We may do this from a realistic, an his
torical, or a philosophical point of view.
Realism and idealism may be traced in a con
tinual conflict in the domains of aesthetics as in
the domains of ethics. The realistic school of art
has in later years had an immense influence with
us. In the same ratio, I may say, as the realistic
school in science. But whilst the realistic school in
science continually tries to prove some general pro
position, which is to be converted from a mere
hypothesis into a systematically proven theory, art
critics have gone so far as to demand from artists
the very stratification of rocks, or of the different
�ETHICS AND .ESTHETICS.
23
kinds of soil, to such an extent that the farmer
should be able to recognise the ground in which tosow his oats or wheat. Pictures, according to these
gesthetical wiseacres, should be geological maps or
mineralogical surveys; as far as flowers are con
cerned they ought to be perfect specimens fit for a
herbarium ; and as to the human body they should
present correct diagrams of veins and sinews and
strongly-protruding muscles. When these critics
take up the archaeological branch of art they advo
cate with indomitable tenacity the old forms and
check the imagination wherever they can. Art is
only to be a reflex of old Greek or Gothic forms, of
Chinese or Indian curiosities, or a slavish reproduc
tion of the Renaissance. The self-creative origi
nality of the artist is neither guided nor even taken
into consideration by this school.
The art-historians proceed in the right direction.
They endeavour to bring before our eyes the past,
so as to enable us to understand the present and to
influence the future of our art. But the historians
have driven us into two divergent backward direc
tions. They either advocate the antique, or they
are consistent Goths—sham Goths generally; the
one holding that everything beautiful must be a
fret, a meander, or a Korinthian pattern, or they
delight in symbolic trefoils, finials, pinnacles, but
tresses, thin and lofty spires, pointed arches, and
darkish-painted windows; neither seeing what an
anachronism is advocated. The philosophical school
at last often indulges in tall phrases—the more un
intelligible the better. We hear of the depth and
breadth of the picture, of deep sentiment and nice
feeling, of perspective in the clouds, &c. We are
startled with hypothetical paradoxes, with specu
lations of the wildest sort on grouping, expression,
and the flowing lines of the composition. As on
theological and medical matters, everyone thinks
himself justified to have an opinion of his or her
�■24
ETHICS AND AESTHETICS.
own on art matters ; as though ethics and aesthetics,
like medicine, were not the results of thousands of
years—now progressive, then again retrograde, but
always onward striving movements of humanity.
Music, poetry, and art have, as well as our morals,
laws which must be known and studied. Music
speaks in sounds, poetry in words, art in forms,
morals in actions. But without harmony, music
would became dissonance; without rhythm, poetry
■would be but an inflated prose ; art without aesthe
tics, a vulgar and objectionable caricature ; and our
morals without ethics, an arbitrary confusion of
whimsical actions. Ethics and aesthetics will fur
nish us with that bright and real worship of God
and his nature, reflected in our creative powers,
for which so many of us yearn with eager hearts;
they will bring to us that bright future in which
men, freed from all fetters of prejudice and super
stition, will unite reason, as the father of science,
with emotion, as the mother of art.
SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY,
To provide for the delivery on Sundays in the Metropolis, and
to encourage the delivery elsewhere, of Lectures on Science,
—physical, intellectual, and moral,—History, Literature,
and Art; especially in their bearing upon the improvement
and social well-being of mankind.
THE SOCIETY’S LECTURES
ARE DELIVERED AT
ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
On SUNDAY Afternoons, at FOUR o'clock precisely.
(Annually—from November to May).
Members’ £1 subscription entitles them to an annual ticket
(transferable and admitting to the reserved seats), and to eight
single reserved-seat tickets available for any lecture.
For tickets and the published lectures apply (by letter, enclos
ing postage-stamps, order, or cheque), to the Hon. Treasurer, Wm.
Henry Domville, Esq., 15 Gloucester Crescent, Hyde Park, W.
PRINTED BY c. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Ethics and aesthetics; or, Art and its influence on our social progress. A lecture delivered before the Sunday Lecture Society, St. George's Hall, Langham Place, on Sunday afternoon, 5th March, 1876
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Zerffi, G. G. (Gustavus George)
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 24 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Presented in Memory of Dr. Moncure D. Conway by his children, July Nineteen hundred & eight.
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Sunday Lecture Society
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1876
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N703
CT10
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Ethics
Aesthetics
Philosophy
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Aesthetics
Art
Conway Tracts
Ethics
NSS
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Victorian Blogging
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An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz
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Kroeger, A. E.
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Place of publication: [Boston]
Collation: 36 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: Includes bibliography (p.1). From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. From North American Review,108, no. 222 (January, 1869).
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[Ticknor and Fields]
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1869
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CT27
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Enlightenment
Philosophy
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Conway Tracts
Enlightenment
Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz
Philosophy
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PNo. 2,-R.P.A. EXTRA SERIES.
The "Riddle” Vindicated
......... ......... .
........... —. . ............. *"*5^
Haeckel’s Critics
Answered
JOSEPH McCABE
(FORMERLY THE VERY REV. FATHER ANTONY, O.S.F., PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY AND
ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY AT ST. ANTONY'S, FOREST GATE)
Author of “Twelve Years in a Monastery, ” “ Peter Abelard," “St. Augustine and
li is Age" etc.
WATTS & CO.,
;
|^> tx
17, TOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
[issued
6
for the rationalist press association, limited]
No. 3 of this Series will be “ SCIENCE AND SPECULATION,” being the
Prolegomena to “The History of Philosophy,” by 0. H. LEWES.
�THE
Rationalist Press Association,
LIMITED.
Registered Office—V], Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street, London, E.C.
Chairman:
Mr. George Jacob Holyoake.
Honorary Associates:
Sir Leslie Stephen
Professor Ernst Haeckel
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Mr. Edward Clodd
Mr. Leonard Huxley
Dr. Paul Carus
Mr. John M. Robertson
Dr. W. C. Coupland
Mr. F. J. Gould
Dr. Stanton Coit
Dr. W, R. Washington Sullivan
Major-General J. G. R. Forlong
A pamphlet fully describing the aims and methods of the Association and the conditions
of membership will be forwarded gratis on application to the Secretary at the above address. The
last Annual Report and Balance-Sheet, the Memorandum and Articles of Association, and a Form
of Bequest, can also be had on request.
THE
Union of Ethical Societies.
Headquarters-. 19, Buckingham Street, Strand, London, W.C.
Secretary: Miss Florence Winterbottom.
The General Aims of the Union are :—(a) By purely natural and human means to help men
to love, know, and do the right. (5) To emphasise the moral factor in all personal, social,
political, national, and international relations, (ij To affirm that moral/ ideas and the
moral life are independent of beliefs as to the ultimate nature of things and as to a life
after death, (d) To assist in developing the science of ethics.
For particulars of Leetures, Classes, and Circulating Library at 19, Bucking
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THE
Moral Instruction League.
Headquarters: 19, Buckingham Street, Strand, London, W.C.
Chairman of Committee:
I
Hon. Treasurer :
Stanton Coit, 30, Hyde Park Gate, S.W. | G. A. Smith, Dartmouth Park Lodge, N.W.
Hon. Secretary.
Harrold Johnson, “ Launceston,” Lindsey Road, Worcester Park, Surrey.
The Object of the League is “ To introduce systematic non-theological moral instruction into all
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�B1SH0PSGATE INSTITUIE
REFERENCE LIBRARY
Not to be taken away
HAECKEL’S CRITICS ANSWERED
�By JOSEPH McCABE.
Twelve Years in a Monastery.
A New Edition, Revised and Enlarged.
The first large edition was exhausted soon after publication, and it is now
issued, with additions, including an examination of Mr. Wells’s position on
the future of Catholicism, at the reduced price of 35-. 6d. net; by post, 3-f. io<Z.
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The Riddle of the Universe.
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The Agnostic Annual for 1904.
Contents : The Cult of the Unknown God, by Joseph McCabe ; The
Master-Builder, by Eden Phillpotts; Historic Christianity, by Charles T.
Gorham; The Position of Freethinkers in the Church, by John M. Robertson;
Towards Freedom, by Lady Florence Dixie ; A Rose, A Life (a poem),
by Henry Allsopp ; The Philosophy of the Human Mind, by Charles Watts 5
Can Man Know God ? by the Author of Mr. Balfour1 s Apologetics ; The
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London : WATTS & CO., 17 Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street, E.C.
�NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
HAECKEL’S
CRITICS ANSWERED •
BY
JOSEPH McCABE
(FORMERLY THE VERY REV. F. ANTONY, O.S.F., PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY AND ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY
at st.
Antony’s,
forest gate)
AUTHOR OF “ TWELVE YEARS IN A MONASTERY," “ PETER ABELARD,”
“ST. AUGUSTINE AND HIS AGE,” ETC.
\Issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited.}
WATTS & CO.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1903
�BISHSPSGATE INSTITUTE
REFERENCE LIBRARY
y.. 1 9 MAY 1987
k Ciassiflcat i&n .. H. hi?. §•
�CONTENTS
PAGE
I.
II.
Some General Criticisms, and
The Unity
of the
a
Lessonin Modesty........................................ 7
World, and the Lawof Substance
.
.
.
.18
III.
The Evolution of the Inorganic World....................................................... 29
IV.
The Origin of Life................................................................................................. 39
V.
The Ascent
of
Man................................................................................................ 49
VI.
The Immortality of the Soul...............................................................................61
VII.
God........................................................................................................................ 68
VIII.
IX.
X.
Science
and
Christianity....................................................................................... 80
The Ethic and Religion of Monism.............................................................. 91
Dr. Wallace and
his
Critics............................................................................... 99
XI.
Lord Kelvin Intervenes...................................................................................... 108
XII.
Mr. Mallock’s Olive Branch..............................................................................114
XIII.
Conclusion............................................................................................................... 123
Index........................................................................................................................127
�PREFATORY NOTE
WHILST these pages were in the press an interview with Mr.
F. Ballard, written by Mr. Raymond Blathwayt, has appeared in Great
Thoughts. The interviewer introduces his subject with the following
passage :—
“ None can deny Haeckel’s sincerity; few can deny a certain wistful eager
ness ; all must stand saddened at his pessimism. He himself, if report be true,
is shaken to the very core as to his own position. A friend of his, entering his
study a few weeks ago, found him in a somewhat mournful condition. ‘ What is
the matter ? ’ said he, and the great philosopher replied, ‘ I cannot feel certain of
my own position ,■ suppose all my theories should turn out to be false? So that
even Haeckel, whom most people regard as a blank materialist, is overshadowed
now and again by the spirit world which surrounds us all, and to him also come the
doubts and craven fears to which the strongest of humanity is liable now and again.”
I at once submitted this passage to Professor Haeckel, and he
replied :—
“The anecdote about the wavering of my Monistic position is a pure invention.
My views are firm as a rockj but they may, naturally, be only partly correct.
The reader will find from the following pages that this—whoever
was the “ inventor
is only one of a long series of untruths and mis
representations with which the distant Professor has been cowardly
assailed.
J. M.
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HAECKEL’S CRITICS ANSWERED
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Chapter 1
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN
MODESTY
Some forty-four years ago a young
German medical man was spending
laborious hours in an effort to penetrate
the secret of the living organism. From
his earliest years he had been powerfully
attracted to the study of life. He had
written a small work on botany whilst
he- was yet a boy at the gymnasium. He
had then had the advantage of a train
ing for the medical profession under
such masters as Kolliker and Johannes
Muller. He had published an essay on
crabs in 1857, and in 1859 he was pur
suing a most important inquiry into the
microscopic life that fills the blue waters
of the Italian coast. But his many lines
of research had not as yet led to any
large conclusions. He stood perplexed
between the discarded views of the older
biologists and the dim vision that was
slowly breaking upon the scientific mind
of the time. His own revered master
had insisted on the fixity of the various
species of organisms, but it was an age
when every note of the time-spirit whis
pered “advance” in the ears of the
younger men. The despotism of Genesis
had been broken by the new criticism,
and the Mosaic barrier to research was
being trampled under foot. The young
scientist, then in his twenty-seventh year,
returned to Berlin in 1861, and heard
that during his absence an English
naturalist had published a startlingly
revolutionary view of the whole kingdom
of life.
He obtained a copy of The
Origin of Sfecies, and saw at a glance
that a great truth had been discovered.
In the light of the new theory of evolu
tion, fulfilling the intuitions of Goethe
and the speculations of Lamarck, the
vast realm of animals and plants began
to exhibit the order and rationality he
had so long sought.
The very valuable and brilliant work
he had done in Italy secured for him a
professorship at the University of Jena,
and he at once devoted himself to the
creation of the new biology. In 1863
(his twenty-ninth year) he gave an able
address on the new theory before a
congress at Stettin, where all the most
distinguished scientists of Germany were
assembled. It was his baptism of fire
in a life-long campaign against error and
prejudice.
The vast majority of the
scientists present scoffed at Darwin’s
idea, and said it was not a matter for
serious discussion.
“The harmless
dream of an after-dinner nap,” said one
distinguished zoologist; and another
said they might as well discuss “ tableturning.”
A famous botanist present
said there was not a single fact of
science in its favour; though Darwin’s
book alone contains an overwhelming
mass of evidence. In France the great
Cuvier was crushing the young theory
with the weight of his authority. From
the pulpit of Notre Dame the brilliant
Lacordaire was assuring men that “its
father was pride, its mother lust, and
�8
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
its offspring revolutions.” The young
naturalist went back to Jena with a
stem and grim resolve to pursue truth
through fire and water, and, as Huxley
was putting it after a like experience,
to “smite all humbugs” that lent their
authority to error. Five years later he
published his Generelle Morphologie,
which Huxley calls “ one of the greatest
scientific works ever published,” and
which considerably advanced the libera
tion of Germany from the old error.
Two years afterwards he published his
Natural History of Creation, of which
Darwin said that, had he read it earlier,
the Descent of Man would probably
never have been written.
With phe
nomenal industry, with brilliant success,
and with a moral idealism of the highest
order, he continued his research into the
nature of life and the nature of man,
and long before the close of the century
he was in the foremost rank of men of
science.
His progress was impeded by the
usual conservative hostility. For years
the ecclesiastical party strove to drive
him from the university, and enforced
a boycott of him and his family. One
day a prelate approached the Grand
Duke of Weimar, and urged him to put
an end to the scandal of the heretical
professor. “ Do you mean to say,” asked
the Grand-Duke—for the spirit of Goethe
still lingered in the court of Weimar,
“ that the professor really believes these
things he teaches?”
“He certainly
does,” assured the cleric.
“Then the
man is only doing what you are doing
yourself,” was the amiable retort. At
another time the professor himself ap
proached the head of the university,
Dr. Seebeck, an orthodox thinker, and
offered to resign his chair, to end the
trouble, as he would never swerve one
inch from the path of integrity and
faithfulness to what he considered to
be the truth. Dr. Seebeck bade him
remain; and his name has, in return,
taken the name of Jena to the ends of
the earth. His books have been trans
lated into twelve languages. Flis name
will rise first to the lips of any informed
student in the civilised world, from
Yokohama to St. Petersburg, from San
Francisco to Calcutta, if you speak of
zoology or embryology. He holds four
gold medals for research, and more
than seventy diplomas from so many
academies and learned bodies all over
the world, who have desired to have his
name on their roll of members or asso
ciates. When, in 1881, the Asiatic Society
of Bengal resolved to nominate six special
“ centenary honorary members,” he was
the one chosen for Germany. On the
occasion of his sixtieth birthday, ten
years ago, the elite of the scientific
world sent their greeting to the man
“who has devoted his life in unselfish
devotion to science and to truth, who
has opened new paths and inaugurated
fresh knowledge wherever he has turned,
and who has ever given his best for the
moral welfare of humanity.”
That is the real Ernst Haeckel.
That is the man whom our ecclesias
tical M.A.’s and our D.D.’s have lately
been accusing of “scientific humbug”
and “insolent dogmatism” and “child
ish credulity” and “mendacities” and
“rhodomontade,” of being “an essen
tially ignorant guide,” “an atrophied
soul,” and “ a rude, ill-mannered, igno
rant child,” of “ poisoning the minds ”
of the people and leading them “back
into barbarism,” of “prostituting him
self,” of making “misrepresentations so
gross and glaring as to make it extremely
difficult to credit him at once with
mental ability and sincerity,” of “ having
forfeited all right to speak as a serious
scientific man,” and of being “so fla
grantly prejudiced, so false to fact, and
so insolent in tone, as to require much
self-control to keep one from flinging
the book away in disgust.” I am not
quoting itinerant Christian Evidence
lecturers, but the deliberately published
observations of Dr. Horton, Dr. Loofs,
and the Rev. Mr. Ballard.
We need not tender our sympathy to
Professor Haeckel. He has been listen
ing to language of this kind ever since
�SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
he published his famous General Mor
phology in 1866. He may have by this
time a kindly theory that it comes
naturally to a mind that breathes a
mediaeval atmosphere, and that still holds
the general principles on which the
Holy Inquisition was founded. But it
is worth while investigating how all this
lurid language is reconciled with the
culture and scholarship and tolerance
which are claimed for the modern
clergyman. The writers of these pic
turesque phrases would indignantly re
pudiate the notion that they were angry
merely because Haeckel’s views of the
nature of man and the constitution of
the universe contradict their own, and
tend to diminish the number of their
followers. They do, indeed, reject the
substance of his speculations, but their
quarrel is with the manner in which he
pursues and expounds them. A few
years ago he published a summary of
the opinions he had arrived at on a vast
number of problems of science, philo
sophy, history, and religion. As he saw
his great colleagues pass on one by one
to join “ the choir invisible,” he decided
to draw up this “last will and testa
ment ”; to look back over the sombre
fields of half-a-century of warfare, and
sum up the issues of the conflict. In
Germany his Riddle of the Universe
sold 9,000 copies in two months, and
has led to an appalling outpouring of
controversial ink. In England it was
eagerly and extensively welcomed in the
more expensive edition, and in the cheap
form it is circulating to the extent of
nearly 80,000 copies. I have waded
through the turgid flood of criticisms it
has called forth, and will deal first with
those charges which tend to palliate the
outrageous phrases I have quoted before
I proceed to the criticisms of its sub
stance. These ponderous names are
not flung out, we are told, from a secret
consciousness that sober criticism would
have little force. They are reluctantly
penned out of regard for the ethic
and aesthetic of controversy. Professor
Haeckel, whom Mr. Mallock has saluted
9
in the Fortnightly Review (September,
1901) as “one of the most eminent and
most thoughtful men of science in
Europe,” whom an antagonistic reviewer
in Knowledge describes as “ impelled by
no motive but a love of truth,” and says
that “ to know him is to love him,” and
“ there are few who have worked harder
and, at the same time, more brilliantly,
for their day and generation,” whom the
Westminster Review regards as “a great
biologist and thinker,” and whom even
Dr. Dallinger calls “a man of large
scientific attainments, a biologist of the
highest repute, and possessed of the
keenest acumen” (fThe Creator, p. 18)
—this Professor Haeckel has, it seems,
greatly violated the good taste and the
ordinary morality of literary work in his
Riddle of the Universe. Mr. Ballard
epitomises the charge very neatly in the
British Weekly. The book, he says,
“ teems with exhibitions of bitter pre
judice, arrant dogmatism, unwarranted
assumption, uncalled-for insult, logical
failure, and self-contradictions ”; and
the misguided British public calls for
five editions of it, in spite of all the
abuse that is heaped on it and all the
secret and public manoeuvres that are
directed against its circulation.
A desperate champion might ask the
reader to reflect on the atmosphere of
invective in which Haeckel has lived for
the last fifty years—from Lacordaire’s
tracing of the parentage of evolution to
Dr. Talmage’s sermons on the subject
only four years 'ago—and might recall
that even dainty prelates like Bishop
Wilberforce could utter bitter insults in
that charmed region. He might argue
that a Haeckel was not pledged to turn
the other cheek to the smiter. He might
point out that it is not soothing to have
had to spend half a life in overcoming
what is now acknowledged to be a foolish
resistance, yet see the same theological
forces arrayed at a more advanced
position to-day. But, in truth, we shall
do better to ask, what is the aesthetic
and ethical standard of controversy
cherished by Dr. Haeckel’s critics, and
B
�IO
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
how: far does he really fall below their
shining example ?
There is Dr. Horton, for instance,
whose sensitive nature is outraged by
Haeckel’s rude comments on some of the
Christian beliefs. Now, I have been a
priest and I know how largely rhetorical
this kind of indignation is, and how
effective it is sometimes in preventing a
book from being read. As a fact, one
who was present when Dr. Horton
delivered his philippic tells how, when the
preacher read out in tremulous tones
the famous mother-in-law passage (and the
like) from the Riddle, his audience was
really shaking with suppressed laughter.
However, let us examine Dr. Horton’s
discourse,1 and learn the better manners
which he desiderates in Haeckel. He
opens with a reference to “ the depths of
degradation and despair into which the
teaching of Haeckel will plunge man
kind ; ” though, of course, to speak
of Dr. Horton’s views as degrading
would be considered insulting. Then,
though “ there has been no more diligent
and successful investigator of the facts of
nature than Ernst Haeckel during the
century that has passed,” he is a child
at moral and religious reasoning, “ a rude,
ill-mannered, ignorant child ; ” he is “ an
atrophied soul, a being that is blind on
the spiritual side.” The “ spiritual side ”
being a blend of moral and intellectual
faculty (if it is anything more than
imagination), this is grave; but Dr.
Horton says it <£in the interest of souls
and truth.” Presently he finds Haeckel
an ££ utterly unsatisfactory and essentially
ignorant guide,” an “ unthinking mind ”
with -whose “ obvious weakness and igno
rance ” and “ childish credulity ” “ the
rationalist press gulls the ignorance of
the public.” Dr. Horton admits that
modern science “ must gradually affect
the view of man, even the view of God,
which we drew from the matchless
revelation of the first chapters of
Genesis” [this in Hampstead, in the
1 It is published in the Christian World
Pulpit, June loth, 1903.
year of grace 1903 !], and must modify
“ the naive, but essentially correct, con
ceptions of our ancestors ”; but Haeckel
asks too much. I will touch in the
proper place Dr. Horton’s brief argu
mentation on the origin of life and the
origin of the mind,1 and will only admire
here the delicacy with which he points
out the spiritual consequences of monism.
“ Men who have no belief in God and
immortality sink to the level of the
brutes,” and Haeckel is “ anxious to
sweep us back into this barbarism under
the name of progress.”
Haeckel is not
conscious of the degradation that has
passed upon his spirit ” through rejecting
the particular solution of the world-riddle
which Dr. Horton recommends, but in
any one who does so “ the soul is shrunk,
the mind is warped, the very body must
carry its marks of degradation.” It is
true that the preacher’s sense of humour
awakes at one point, and he disavows
any intention of imputing these “ bestial
levels ” to Haeckel himself, but he seems
to forget the reservation, and ends in a
most ludicrous strain of commiseration.
There is nothing half so insulting and
offensive in Haeckel.
Passing by Dr. Loofs (whose little work
is one of the most spiteful and painful
diatribes that has issued from a modern
university), as he does not claim to be an
English gentleman, we may turn to the
Rev. F. Ballard for an exhibition of those
manners which Haeckel has neglected to
cultivate.
Mr. Ballard is said in the
religious press to have proved that
“ Haeckel doesn’t count,” and it will be
expected from the precision and force of
his indictment of Haeckel’s manner
(which I have quoted above) that this
1 Dr. Horton’s knowledge of the controversy
may be tested very well by his statement that
Bois-Reymond, Vogt, Buchner, and Baer, “per
haps four of the greatest men of science in the
nineteenth century in Germany,” came to “ the
recognition of spirit as the author of conscious
ness.” Not one of the four ever recognised any
thing of the kind, as we shall see. Bois-Reymond
and Baer remained agnostic, whilst Buchner and
Vogt were actually the leaders of German
materialism up to the moment of death.
�SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
scientific clergyman will be quite the
Beau Brummel of religious controversy.
He has written a chapter on The
Riddle of the Universe in his Miracles
of Unbelief, but this has been swallowed
up in his great attack in the columns of
the British Weekly. The later articles
of this series refer to the able editor of
the Clarion,, and Mr. Blatchford has
shown a sufficient command of appro
priate language to dispense with my
services. I confine myself to the first
three articles (July 23rd, 30th, and Aug.
6th). It proves, on examination, that
twelve columns out of the thirteen are
mainly preliminary comments on Haec
kel’s morals. I will deal with the thir
teenth column (which will turn out to be
very largely a question of Mr. Ballard's
morals) in its proper place, and will
here briefly examine the general criti
cisms.
Dogmatism and dishonesty are the
chief points Mr. Ballard charges, with an
infinite variety of phrasing, against the
absent Professor. Now, one would
really’ be disposed to see something in
the first point, since it is so persistently
urged by Haeckel’s critics. Unfortun
ately, when one looks closely into the
grounds of the charge it begins to totter ;
and when one compares Haeckel’s words
with those of his critics, one wonders
what dogmatism really is. There is, for
instance, that admirable writer of the
Christian World, Mr. J. Brierley (“J. B.”),
who stooped in some unguarded hour to
attack Haeckel. The Riddle is “ one of
the most amusing books this generation
has seen” because “its dogmatism is so
naive.” “ Professor Haeckel has found
everything out,” says Mr. Brierley. “ He
has exploded the old mystery, and found
it a bag stuffed with sawdust. There is
nothing to wonder at in suns and sys
tems. They are just matter and force,
and there is an end.” Now, the Chris
tian World is a fine paper, and “ J. B.”
is one of its sanest contributors, yet this
passage is astounding. Whence did a
hostile reviewer in the Sheffield Daily
Telegraph get the opposite impression
n
that Haeckel “is modest and unassum
ing in the claims he makes for his
system”? How came the Westminster
Review to call it “ a careful and conscien
tious endeavour to construct a theory of
the universe in harmony with the teach
ings of modern science”? Read the
second page of the preface to the Riddle.
“ The studies of these world-riddles which
I offer in the present work,” you read,
“ cannot reasonably claim to give a
perfect solution of them; they merely
offer to a wide circle of readers a critical
inquiry into the problem, and seek to
answer the question as to how nearly we
have approached that solution at the
present day. What stage in the attain
ment of truth have we actually arrived
at in this closing year of the nineteenth
century ? What progress have we really
made during its course towards that
immeasurably distant goal ? ”
Those
words—and you will vainly seek their
equal in modesty in any religious riddle
solver in the world—meet the eye at the
very opening of the book, and they are
substantially repeated at its close (p.
134).1 “The answer which I give to
these great questions,” Haeckel con
tinues, “ must naturally be merely sub
jective and only partly correct.” Was
there ever so singular a “ dogmatist ” ?
“ The one point that I can claim is that
my Monistic Philosophy is sincere from
beginning to end.” “ My own command
of the various branches of science is
uneven and defective, so that I can
attempt no more than to sketch the
general plan of such a world-picture,
and point out the pervading unity of its
parts, however imperfect be the execu
tion.” “ In taking leave of my readers,
I venture the hope that, through my
sincere and conscientious work—in spite
of its faults, of which I am not uncon
scious-—I have contributed a little to
wards the solution of the great enigma.”
If that is dogmatism, and the average
theological pronouncement is fragrant
1 I quote throughout from the cheap edition
of the Riddle.
�12
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
with modesty, we shall need to recon
sider our moral terminology.1
But Mr. Ballard would tell us there
are other passages in which “ the most
arrogant dogmatism ” breaks out. Well,
Haeckel has told us the book is uneven
and sketchy, that its parts were written
at different times, in different moods;
and, knowing there was no inconsistency
of thought, he may have trusted to the
intelligence of his readers to adjust any
mere inconsistency of expression. But
the truth is, that Mr. Ballard’s choice
examples (given in his third article) of
“ unmitigated dogmatism ” are little short
of ridiculous. “ Thus we have got rid of
the transcendental design of the philo
sophy of the schools ” and “ The unpre
judiced study of natural phenomena
reveals the futility of the theistic idea ”
are two of the shorter quotations. Clearly,
Mr. Ballard must mean that Haeckel
should have interposed “ in my opinion ”
in these sentences. Does Mr. Ballard
do that? Does any sane and literary
writer do it who expects to have intelli
gent readers ? Professor Haeckel is by
no means a Social Democrat, but he
does credit “ the general reader ” with
intelligence enough to relieve him from
saying “ this is my opinion ” at every
third line. He has gone out of his way
to warn the reader from the beginning
that his conclusions are “ merely subjec
tive.” In not one of these cases does he re
present a conclusion as being unanimously
accepted. On the contrary, Mr. Ballard
and his friends are never tired of point
ing out how Haeckel, on his own showing,
1 An amusing feature of this delinquency of
Mr. J. Brierley’s—which I sincerely regret to
have to notice—is that it follows upon a fine
article on ‘ ‘ Candour in the Pulpit ’’—that is to
say, on the lack of candour in the pulpit and of
honesty in apologetic literature. So that, almost
side by side with this unhappy passage, one
reads : “A foremost modern theologian, by no
means of the radical school, has recorded his
significant judgment that one of the main charac
teristics of apologetic literature is its lack of
honesty; and no one who has studied theology can
doubt that it has suffered more than any other
science from equivocal phraseology” {Christian
World, August 20th, 1903 ; p. 10).
is contradicted by his own colleagues in
Germany. The whole matter is too ab
surd to prolong. Haeckel’s “dogma
tisms ” are the ordinary ways of expres
sion in adult literature. They shine with
modesty in comparison with theological
utterances, and they are guarded from
misinterpretation on the part of the unin
formed by a most rare and conscientious
warning in the preface.
Finally let us consider the charge of
misinterpretation, trickery (“jugglery,”
the Rev. Rhondda Williams says), and
general dishonesty of method. To deal
with this fully would be to anticipate my
whole book here; the reader will be
amply informed for judgment in the
sequel. But we may, in the meantime,
profitably run our eye over Mr. Ballard’s
twelve columns of moral censorship. In
the last chapter of Miracles of Unbelief,
Mr. Ballard says “ we find misrepresen
tations so gross and glaring as to make it
extremely difficult to credit the writer at
once with mental ability and sincerity ”
(p. 35°)- 1° immediate justification of
this, Mr. Ballard quotes Haeckel’s state
ment (p. 46 of the Riddle) that even
some Christian theologians deny the
liberty of the will. This Bachelor of
Divinity seems unaware for the moment
that the Calvinists notoriously denied
freedom on the very ground indicated
by Haeckel, and that the greater part of
the Catholic theologians (the Thomists
and Augustinians) are accused by their
colleagues of being, logically, in the same
predicament. A more paltry justifica
tion for so grave a charge it would be
hard to conceive. The only other point
in the chapter worth noting is the com
ment on abiogenesis, and this will be met
at a later stage.1 I turn to the pages of
the British Weekly, and their blush of
righteous indignation.
The only point that concerns us in
1 But the many admirers of Mr. Ballard who
wish to know the worst at once may refer now
to p. 40, and see how their apologist garbles
his quotation from Haeckel, misrepresents his
position, misstates the attitude of science, and
so wins a glorious victory—over the Decalogue.
�SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
the first article is a curiously spirited
attack on my opinion that the Riddle is
“unanswered because it is unanswer
able,” and it is instructive to consider
this. Take down your copy of the
Riddle—do not contract the slovenly
and expensive habit of trusting. a con
troversial writer; and I will give you
pages throughout, which Mr. Ballard
never does—and notice that I wrote this
in November, 1902. Mr. Rhondda
Williams had not then written his
pamphlet, Dr. Horton had not preached
his sermon, and Dr. Loofs’s book was
unknown in England.
The only
“ reply ” in the field was a hastily added
chapter to Mr. Ballard’s Miracles of
Unbelief, which one may be pardoned
for not having discovered by 1902.
Further, I wrote with pointed reference
to Dr. Beale’s pathetic promise of a
reply in the agony column of the Times,
Oct. 1st, 1900; a promise which he
withdrew by referring later (Dec. 19th)
to a tiresome collection of letters from
the Lancet which he had published in
1898. Moreover, I pointedly wanted
an answer to the most important thesis
of the book, the evolution of mind,
which, I find, even Mr. Ballard had not
met. Mr. Ballard’s selection of spon
taneous generation as the chief point —
whereas Haeckel only offers it as “a
pure hypothesis,” and it is only an
incidental (though necessary) conse
quence of his system—is unworthy of a
serious scientific man. So, brushing
aside criticisms of Haeckel’s views on
Christ and the Immaculate Conception,
which have nothing to do with the
integrity of his system, I deplored “ the
silence or triviality of his opponents.”
But note how Mr. Ballard manipulates
this innocent observation. Premising
that I am “ doubtless honest,” and that
“ the apostles of free-thought, of all
men, might leave others free to think
for themselves,” and so on, he tells me
it was answered by himself (in an
obscure corner of an obscure book) and
—by anticipation! That encourages
him to call my statement an “ untruth.”
13
In the second article my enormity
grows. Readers are told that I assert
the “ monistic mechanism ‘ has been for
ever established ’ as the all-sufficient
origin, means, and end of everything ”;
whereas I most clearly said only that
“ the case for the evolution of mind ”
had been “ for ever established.” Later
we have a reference to “ the reactionary
assurances of an ex-ecclesiastic to the
effect ‘ that all Christian faith is ship
wrecked and all Christian convictions
amongst the breakers.’ ” The unsophis
ticated reader will learn with surprise (in
spite of “ to the effect ”) that this, whether
reactionary or not, is not a quotation from
me. And finally the growth is complete,
and I am made to “sneer at the triviality
or the silence of the opponents of the
mechanical theory of the universe.” Mr.
Ballard, F.R.M.S., clearly makes a very
improper use of his microscope at
times.
So it is with my innocent remark that
in the Riddle we have a “ masterly treat
ment of the question of the evolution of
mind.” “ Masterly ” soon grows into
“ more masterly,” and Mr. Ballard airily
asks : “ I really want to know why, for
some of us who make no profession to
be experts, Dr. Haeckel’s treatment
should be more ‘ masterly ’ than that of,
say, Dr. Wallace ” ; and in the end :
“ May we not then ask Mr. McCabe, or
Mr. Blatchford, why, or by what
authority, they proclaim that Prof.
Haeckel’s treatment is so much more
masterly than that of all others as to
foreclose the question ? ” The perver
sion of my phrase into a comparison
and the implication that I fail in respect
for Dr. Wallace or any other dis
tinguished thinker come very oddly
from the pen of this literary censor
morum.
Yet this is a fair sample of Mr.
Ballard’s procedure—and is in fact a
great part of his procedure, or I should
not have dwelt on it. The only other
important element in Mr. Ballard’s
preliminary twelve columns is his
industrious collection of authorities to
�14
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
oppose to Dr. Haeckel. I shall speak
presently of the proper merit of this, but
must touch a few points of it here to
finish the consideration of Mr. Ballard’s
standard of controversy. He constantly
affirms that Haeckel is opposed by the
majority of scientific authorities. We
shall see what this really amounts to,
but let us consider it here in the light of
the more important question whether
they support Christianity. I have care
fully examined the list of writers quoted
against Haeckel by Mr. Ballard, and
this is the result. In the front rank
are the three eminent scientists, Lord
Kelvin, Sir O. Lodge, and Dr. A. R.
Wallace. Their convictions every man
will respect who respects himself, but—
two of them are Spiritists (having there
fore, an alien and empirical source of
faith, and holding views on the future state
which Christian teaching rejects), and
Lord Kelvin gives a very slender support,
as we shall see. Then there are Dr.
Beale (who confesses in his latest book
that he is fighting a vast majority), Dr.
Croll (who denies the liberty of the
will), Dr. Stirling (whose contribution is
the same as Dr. Beale’s), Dr. Winchell
and Sir J. W. Dawson (geologists of a
past generation, who defend the literal
interpretation of i. Genesis : Sir J. W.
Dawson thinks geology only claims
7000 years for the life of man, and
that “ the deluge is one of the most
important events both in human history
and the study of the later geological
periods ”), Professor Flower (with ten
lines of qualifications, but whose only
contribution to the subject seems to be
an address at a Church Congress, in which
he sharply tells the clergy they have
done mischief enough in the past, and had
better leave evolution to men of science ;
two short phrases about an “ eternal
power ” and the “ Divine govern
ment of the world ” seem to constitute
his slender theology), Dr. A. Macalister,
Professor Le Conte and Mr. Fiske
(American evolutionists and Pantheists),
Mr. Row (the Christian Evidence
lecturer), Dr. Cook (the American
Christian evidence lecturer), and Lord
Grimthorpe (the Vicar-general of York,
whose “legal and scientific mind” may
be seen at work in his Letters on Dr.
Todd's Discourses on the Prophecies}. The
rest of Mr. Ballard’s list consists of pro
fessional theologians. “ Dr.” This, and
“ Professor ” That, usually turn out to be
graduates in divinity. I am not for a
moment slighting the scientific acquire
ments of men like Dr. Dallinger, Mr.
Newman Smyth (one of the few
apologists who retain the character of a
gentleman amidst polemical work), Dr.
Iverach, Mr. Ballard, Mr. Profeit, and
Mr. Kennedy; I am not so unintelligent.
But it would be absurd to say that the
publications of these professors of
apologetics and doctors of divinity have
the same value, as replies to Haeckel, as
those of scientific laymen. The result is
that Mr. Ballard’s list is totally and
gravely misleading to the uninformed.
Rubbish like the “ Present Day Tracts ”
and antiquated work like Winchell’s and
Dawson’s and Stirling’s and Wainwright’s
are mixed up with the good work of
Newman Smyth and Dallinger and
Kennedy.
Evolutionists and non
evolutionists, theists and pantheists,
Christians and non-Christians, are hastily
thrown together. He drags in Prof.
W. James to rebuke Haeckel; the
average reader will have little suspicion
that James rejects the title of theist,
speaks scornfully of Mr. Ballard’s God,
and is not sure of the immortality of the
soul. All this is gravely misleading.
Clearly, Mr. Ballard’s ideal of con
troversy is not much superior to that
of Dr. Horton. Yet this budding con
troversialist has the effrontery to tell
Haeckel that “if he has no sense of
shame, then we have a sufficient object
lesson as to the failure of ‘ monistic
religion ’ to develop even an elementary
degree of morality.” This is provoked
by statements which Haeckel quotes
with transparent honesty from writers
named in his book. We have seen
how an equally coarse outburst was
prompted by a statement (as to the free-
�SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
dom of the will) which is literally correct.
The only other specific criticisms offered
by Mr. Ballard relate to the nature of
matter and the origin of life. In both
cases he gives a mere travesty of
Haeckel’s position. We shall take them
in detail later (though the reader may
find them at once by means of the index,
if he desires). For the present we take
our leave of these graceful guardians of
the taste and ethic of controversy.
“ What sort of an age do we live in ? ”
asked the Prager Tageblatt, when it saw
the clerical and scientific Lilliputians
of Germany shooting their insults at the
distinguished scientist. We are living,
still, in an age when religion is made to
consist essentially in certain speculations
about the nature of the universe, which
were framed, in substance, thousands of
years ago ; an age when any independent
speculator on the nature of things must
expect to arouse a bitter antagonism if
his conclusions differ from those of
religious tradition. Religion is, in a most
important aspect, “ a cosmic doctrine,”
to quote the words of Mr. Mallock.
“Religion and science,”he says, “touch
and oppose each other primarily as rival
methods of explaining the .... universe
taken as a whole, man forming part of
it.” Until a short time ago theologians
held that their particular cosmic specula
tions had the distinction of a super
natural origin, and they damned people
-who called them into question. To-day
the gilt is wearing off the legends of
Genesis, but the hereditary spirit of
intellectual arrogance goes more slowly.
To-day there are many theologians who
call themselves truth-seekers, and there
are a few who write and speak as if
they were truth-seekers, and not truthfulminators. But the sad truth is that
the majority are morally hampered by a
conviction of the sacredness and the
exclusive truth of certain speculations,
about God and the soul, which they
have a corporate charge to defend.
Every man who opposes them is con
structed into a hater of their religion and
a menace to human progress. The
15
diminution of their followers seems
only to increase their violence. “Al
ready,” says Mr. Rhondda Williams, “ it
is the fact that the cultured laity on the
one hand and the bulk of the democracy
on the other are outside the Churches.”1
Yes, people are seeking the truth, out in
the light of day, and they distrust a
tradition that has broken down section
by section as the century advanced.
Haeckel, starting from a most compre
hensive knowledge of living nature, has
reached out to certain conclusions on the
cosmic mystery. It will not avail to
Caricature his conclusions and vilify his
person and motives and method. Neither
he, nor his translator, nor his publishers,
dreamed of thrusting his zoological
authority down people’s throats, except
in so far as his book deals with zoology.
His further conclusions must be met on
their argumentative merits. His whole
system must be judged by rational
evidence.
Dust-throwing and mud
throwing are not the methods of truth
seekers ; they are the devices of timid
or foolish partisans.
But before I enter upon a systematic
examination of Haeckel’s system and the
criticisms it has provoked, I wish to ex
pose one further misrepresentation of a
general character. Almost all the critics
endeavour to make us distrust Flaeckel
by attributing to him a solitary and
isolated position in the scientific ■world.
Even if this were the case, it would only
be an incentive to examine his views
with the greater care. Copernicus stood
alone throughout life. Darwin was op
posed by most of the scientists of his
time. Wolff enunciated a profound
truth which was not accepted until long
after his death. Robert Owen preached
a whole series of social truths that we
all accept to-day. Further, all writers
do not regard Haeckel as isolated. Mr.
Mallock, in his Religion as a Credible
Doctrine, not only takes him to be the
supreme living representative of scientific
philosophy, but says that he and his
1 Does Science Destroy Religion ? p. 29.
�16
SOME GENERAL CRITICISMS, AND A LESSON IN MODESTY
colleagues “ are correct in their methods
and arguments—that the attempts of
contemporary theologians to find flaws
in the case of their opponents, or to
convert the discoveries of science into
proofs of their own theism, are exercises
of an ingenuity wholly and hopelessly
misapplied, and exhibit too often an
unreasoning or a feverish haste which
merely exposes to. ridicule the cause
which they are anxious to defend.”1 Dr.
Lionel Beale speaks throughout his
Vitality of the majority being on
Haeckel’s side in that controversy. Dr.
Iverach speaks in his Theism of “ scien
tists,” in a general way, as refusing to go
with him. But the misconception it is
particularly needful to clear up is as to
the relation of Haeckel’s Monism to
Agnosticism. When Mr. Ballard speaks
crudely of the majority of modern scien
tists being opposed to Haeckel, the
uninformed will conclude that they are,
therefore, more or less with Mr. Ballard.
We have corrected that impression by
giving the list of all the scientific laymen
of England and the United States, of
recent years, that Mr. Ballard has been
able to get under one very broad religious
umbrella. It bears only a small propor
tion to the whole, even when we have
added Professor Henslow and a few
more later on. On the other hand, the
average educated man would say that
Haeckel is a materialist and atheist, and
the great bulk of our men of science
reject both names. Haeckel, it is true,
equally rejects the name materialist, but
we may defer that point to the next
chapter. Our average educated man
has no illusion as to Huxley, Tyndall,
Clifford, Darwin, Bain, Sully, Maudsley,
Spencer, Ray Lankester, Karl Pearson,
and scientists of that type (or those
types) favouring what Mr. Ballard would
call religion. These have professed
Agnosticism; and the silence on the
religious question of the vast majority of
our scientific men must—especially in
1 The Fortnightly Review, September, 1901 ;
p. 400.
view of the feverish alertness of the
Churches to drag them on to platforms
when they are known to be in the least
favourable—I should say, be construed
in the same sense.
Now, Agnosticism is held to be more
or less respectable. Mr. Ballard quotes
Huxley and Darwin and Tyndall with a
light heart and without the least recburse
to his red ink. Haeckel is abused be
cause of his “dogmatism.” But let us
refrain from raising dust, and see what
the difference really comes to. I might
quote Lord Grimthorpe, whose “legal
and scientific mind ” Mr. Ballard has
warmly recommended to us : “ As for
professing to believe neither alternative,
atheism or theism, . . . that is not only
probably but certainly wrong, and, in
deed, is so impossible that any man who
thinks he has come to that conclusion is
mistaken, and is at present an atheist.” 1
But I think a writer of that type ought
to be left in his grave. Listen, however,
to what one of the ablest living thinkers
of England says on the matter : “ The
Neutral or Agnostic Monism now in
vogue amongst scientific men ... is
scientifically popular mainly because it
is still essentially naturalistic, and dis
parages the so-called psychical aspect as
epistemologically subordinate to the
physical. . . This monism escapes the
absurdities of the old materialism more
in seeming than in fact . . it is material
ism without matter. . . In this monism
the mechanical theory is still regarded
as furnishing a concrete and complete
presentment of the objective world. . .
If dualism is unsound, there seems to
be no agnostic resting-place between
materialism and spiritualism.”2 I do
not subscribe to all this, but the high
authority of the writer encourages me
to say that the custom of opposing our
1 At the close of The Origin of the Laws of
Nature.
2 Professor J. Ward, Naturalism and Agnosti
cism, p. 207, vol. ii. So Professor Case, in the
article on Metaphysics in the tenth edition of the
Encyc. Brit, says Huxley, Tyndall, and Spencer,
only escape materialism by being inconsistent.
�'some general criticisms, and a lesson IN MODESTY
Agnostic scientists to Haeckel—especi
ally when fairly ancient quotations are
dug out of their works in support of it—
is totally misleading.
The difference between them is this
(setting aside for the manner the question
of idealism): Haeckel’s system is a
comprehensive theory covering the uni
verse, whilst they remain on ground
which they feel to be very solid. They
affirm the evolution of all things, of
matter, of solar systems, of species from
lower species, of man, of religion and
ethics. But they decline to skate at all
on thin ice. Whether the universe had
a beginning, whether evolution has been
purposively guided, whether or how life
arose out of non-life, whether conscious
ness is of the same texture as physical
force, whether death makes an end of it
—all these things they prefer to leave to
a later generation. Where they do
affirm, they agree with Haeckel; but
they consider his further affirmations
premature, to say the least. They
agree with him that the religious theory
is quite uncalled-for by the facts of
science ; but they think it too early to
frame counter-theories. This is the real
significance of those famous conversions
of German scientists of which every
critic of Haeckel has made so much.
Du Bois-Reymond, Virchow, Baer, and
Wundt spread their affirmations over
the universe in their younger days. At
a later period they restricted themselves,
like Huxley or Darwin, to positions
which seemed impregnable. They re
treated to Agnosticism on the more ad
vanced questions. It. is absurd to find
Haeckel’s critics representing them as
having gone over to theism or Christian
ity.1 Like Huxley and Tyndall (in his
1 Haeckel is read a ferocious lesson in
manners by all his critics for putting a certain
construction on their change. Let it stand. I
am chiefly concerned with the truth or untruth
of his ideas. I see, therefore, a far more griev
ous sin in the almost general misrepresentation
of the nature of these “conversions.” Dr.
Horton, we saw, slipped in Vogt and Buchner,
the most advanced materialists of Germany, as
converts to spiritualism. Mr, Ballard inserts
17
agnostic mood) they only decline to
follow Haeckel in a constructive theory
of the origin of life and the relation of
consciousness to brain, and the strenuous
denial of God and immortality; but they
shrink just as severely from the con
structive theories and the dogmas of
Haeckel’s critics.
In that sense Haeckel stands apart,
though far from alone. Is he justified
in leaping the abysses from which his
colleagues shrink ? Would it be wiser to
keep to the solid ground ? To put no
rounded system before the world ? We
can judge best when we have covered
the whole ground over which his system
extends. Meantime, remember three
things which are lost sight of in the dust
of this controversy. Firstly, Dr. Haeckel
does not claim anything like equal value
for his views on all points. He knows
perfectly well how the evidence differs,
and how at times he must bridge a chasm
with “a pure hypothesis,”as he calls his
theory of abiogenesis; though he does
not even put out a hypothesis without
sober ground.
His system is an
elaborate structure of demonstrated
truths, convincing theories, and rational
hypotheses of all grades of strength. The
critic who confuses the latter with the
former, and thinks he has destroyed
“ the fundamental axiom,” when he has
only shown that some outlying hypothesis
A only a hypothesis, does not evince
much discernment or a scrupulous desire
to let truth prevail. Secondly, dualism,
or theism, may not logically rush in if one
Romanes, of whose conversion Haeckel was
totally unaware when he wrote the book, and
whose change of views differs toto co:lo from that
of Virchow or Wundt. All essentially misstate
the real “ metamorphosis.” It was merely from
dogmatic monism to what Dr. Ward calls
“agnostic monism.” It lends no support to
theism or spiritualism. Prof. Haeckel assures me
that “even to-day these men are styled atheists
by German ecclesiastical writers.” Read Mr.
Kennedy’s attack on Du Bois-Reymond’s hetero
doxy, after his “ Ignorabimus-Rede,” in his
Natural Theology and Modern Thought, pp.
42-65. Darwin used stronger language about
Virchow than is to be found in the Riddle.
�18
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
of Haeckel’s particular hypotheses breaks
down. Between Haeckel and Martineau
or Fiske lies the broad region of neutral
or agnostic monism. And thirdly, this
is the ordinary procedure of science. It
throws out the light bridges of its hypo
theses far in advance of its solid march.
They may be withdrawn later. More
probably they will gather strength as the
years roll on, and be at length absorbed
in the growth of the impregnable
structure of scientific truth.
Chapter II
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW
OF SUBSTANCE
What, then, is this monism which
has aroused so much bitterness and an
tagonism ? Once more, before we can pro
ceed to a sober and patient study of the
position of Dr. Haeckel, we find it
necessary to lay the dust which his
critics have raised. There is the defini
tion given by the Rev. Ambrose Pope,
who seems to have led the opposition
to Haeckel in the Clarion controversy.
Mr. Pope disposes of the system —
which it has taken Dr. Haeckel a
laborious life-time to construct—-with
a marvellous and quite papal facility.
It was made, he thinks, during three “half
day excursions” out of Haeckel’s own
province. From these he returned with
certain “assumptions” which contain,
with almost ludicrous clearness, the con
clusions he wanted to reach. We will
have a word on these “ assumptions ”
(which are really the conclusions of years
of observation and reflection) when the
time comes. But incidentally Mr. Pope
defines monism, or, as he calls it for
some occult reason, “ physiological
monism.”_ “Briefly,” he says, “the
universe is not dual in its ultimate
nature, viz., spirit (or soul) and matter;
but single (monistic), viz., matter (or
substance).” Mr. Pope goes on to say
airily that "this is another of those inno
cent-looking hypotheses” from which
Haeckel derives his atheism, &c. How
any man can fail to see that this is
not an assumption, but the most
laboured conclusion of Haeckel’s sys
tem—not the base but the apex of his
pyramid—passes comprehension. Mean
time, it is formulated in utter defiance
of Haeckel’s words, and one might think
Haeckel would be consulted on the
matter. He says (p. 8) that monism
does “ not deny the existence of spirit,
and dissolve the world into a heap of
dead atoms ” and that “ matter cannot
exist and be operative without spirit, or
spirit without matter.” Dr. Horton and
many others have the same confusion.
The Rev. Rhondda Williams says : “ He
recognises that there is something which
is not material (spatial) which we may
call mind, or soul, or spirit. But if this
spiritual something is treated as the
mere, product of matter, or the mere
function of the material organism, its
reality is denied, i.e., it has no real
spiritual nature.” But Haeckel has no
where said that spirit (or force) is a
product of matter. There are scientists
who resolve matter into force, but no one
ever attempted the reverse, except in
�THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
the sense of reducing force to motion,
which Haeckel certainly does not.
Monism is so clearly defined at the
very commencement of Haeckel’s book
(p. 8) that these gentlemen must have
convinced themselves he gave an im
proper definition in order to escape the
odious label “materialist.” Before we
proceed, let us be perfectly clear why
this odium does attach to the word
“materialism.” It is well worthwhile,
for here is one of the strangest and most
common sophisms
of the
hour.
Materialism is the name for two totally
different things, which are constantly
confused. There is, in the first place,
materialism as a theory of the universe—
the theory that matter is the source
and the substance of all things. That is
(if you associate “ force ” or “ energy ”
or “motion” with your “matter,” as
every materialist does) a perfectly
arguable theory. It has not the remotest
connection with the amount of wine a
man drinks or the integrity of his life.
But we also give the name of materialism
to a certain disposition of the sentiments,
which few of us admire, and which
would kill the root of progress if it
became general. It is the disposition to
despise ideals and higher thought, to
confine one’s desires to selfish and
sensual pleasure and material advance
ment. There is no connection between
this materialism of the heart and that of
the head.
For whole centuries of
Christian history whole nations believed
abundantly in spirits without it having
the least influence on their morals;
and, on the other hand, materialists like
Ludwig Buchner, or Vogt, or Moleschott,
were idealists (in the moral sense) of the
highest order.1 Look around you and
see whether the belief or non-belief (for
the Agnostic is in the same predicament
here) in spirit is a dividing-line in conduct.
There is no ground in fact for the con
fusion, and it has wrought infinite
mischief; while it has rendered, and
1 See sketches of their lives in Last Words on
Materialism,
19
still renders, incalculable service to con
servative religion.
In his Natural History of Creation
Professor Haeckel admitted that his
monism was not far removed, from
scientific materialism. But there is still
so gross a confusion on the subject
that it is very natural for him to refuse
the name.
Indeed, he could not
logically accept it, and no one who is well
informed in recent physics will accept it,
unless he is allowed to interpret it in his
own way; a right which seems to be
denied to men like Dr. Haeckel. Glance
at any scientific work, and you will
find that it speaks as much, if not
more, about force than about matter.
Hence if critics insist on calling
materialism a belief in “dead atoms”
and “ hard atoms,” and “ solid atoms,”
and nothing else, there
are no
materialists to-day, if ever there were?
We shall see more presently about
modern notions of matter and force, but
may take it that Haeckel, in proper
scientific spirit, attaches as much im
portance to force as to matter, and does
not make any absurd attempt to derive
force from matter.1 Further, he identi
fies “ soul ” or “ spirit ” with force. Mr.
Williams says this is a polite way of
denying its existence, and Mr. Pope
would say it is an assumption.
It is
neither one nor 'the other, but a most
serious and characteristic conclusion of
Haeckel’s researches.
I am now
stating his position, not the grounds for
it (which will come in due time). He
concludes that the thinking and willing
force in man—what we call his mind or
spirit—is identical with the force that
reveals itself in light and heat. In
other words, he is forced to think that
spirit and energy are one and the same
thing, and so he uses the names in
discriminately. But he is further con
vinced, on grounds we shall see
presently, that matter and spirit (or
1 Yet even the writer of the article on Meta
physics in the 10th edition of the Encyclopedia
Britannica, who devotes two columns to the
Riddle, joins in this general misrepresentation,
�20
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
force) are not two distinct entities or
natures, but two forms or two aspects of
one single reality, which he calls the
fundamental substance.
This
one
entity with the two attributes, this
matter-force substance, is the sole
reality that exists—to use a Greek word,
the motion—the one nature that presents
itself to our contemplation in the
infinitely varied panorama of the
universe.
This position is logically, as I said,
the culmination of Haeckel’s system.
For the convenience of this brief de
scription I take it as the starting point
of that network of explanations, theories,
and hypotheses which constitutes the
monistic philosophy. There is a most
important school of philosophers who
will challenge even the existence of this
matter-force substance, as we shall see
presently, but for the vast majority of
men of science, as well as of ordinary
folk, this matter-force element is the one
obvious reality. In this Haeckel’s cri
tics are at one with him. It is when
Haeckel goes on to say it is the sole —
mon-on—reality that the conflict begins.
The view which Haeckel opposes is that
there is another element in existence,
totally distinct from this matter-force
reality : that the mind of man cannot be
an evolution from the matter-force sub
stance, and that this substance itself
could not have evolved into the orderly
universe about us except under the guid
ance of a still higher intelligent principle,.
God. Now, it would be quite legitimate
to say that we are as yet so imperfectly
acquainted with this matter-force reality
that it is premature to say what it can o<cannot do. That is the Agnostic posi
tion, rejecting alike the dualist theory of
Mr. Ballard and the monistic explana
tions of Dr. Haeckel.1 But monism is
more ambitious.
Science has now
1 But I must repeat—so persistent is the mis
representation—that this agnostic position is as
antagonistic to Christianity as monism is. Its
quarrel with what it calls the premature theories
of the monist is a purely scientific or philosophical
matter, and is totally unconnected with religion.
amassed enormous quantities of facts
concerning every part and aspect of the
universe. The monist believes we can
already, with this material, sketch in
broad outline, at least, the upward
growth of the great world-substance
until it is transfigured in the beauty of
the living organism, and becomes selfconscious in the mind of man. Every
body admits to-day, says Mr. Mallock,
that the inorganic world is “an absolute
monism.”
The monist proceeds to
bring the realms of life and conscious
ness into this matter-force unity, and to
show that we are not warranted in claim
ing that its growth needs a designer or a
controller. He will go on until he has
embraced the whole life of humanity,
science, art, religion, and ethics, in his
single formula.
Do not misunderstand me to the
extent of supposing, as so many strangely
do, that the monist is bound to have a
theory ready for every phenomenon
under heaven. We find even the ablest
of Haeckel’s critics claiming that monism
breaks down here, or fails to explain
there, and then with a chant of praise
fluttering the banner of dualism in the
breach. Such a course is absurd. If
the monistic theory fails anywhere, the
next attitude that logic enforces is agnos
ticism, or reserve of judgment.
If
Haeckel’s theory of the origin of life, or
of heredity, or of consciousness, or of
morality, or of Christ, will not stand the
strain of rational examination, this does
not impair the general system of monism.
The heart of the system is (i) the affir
mation that a great matter-force sub
stance (or nature) is unrolling its poten
tialities in the universe about us
(which no one denies), and (2) that we
have no rational evidence that there exists
any other substance (or super-nature).
To say that Haeckel is bound to explain
everything or die, is a grotesque assump
tion.
He has plainly disavowed so
foolish an ambition. It may be that
before the last red rays of our dying sun
fall upon the eyes of the last of our race,
some millions of years hence, the mon-
�THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE 21
bundle of sense-impressions which he
istic philosophy will be complete. That
quite gratuitously supposes to be caused
is the “ infinitely remote goal ” he spoke
by a material object, and his stomach.is
of. But, as I said, science has already
accumulated so vast a library of know a fiction. So with the whole of material
life. It is a kinematoscopic display in
ledge that we may venture even now to
draw the outline of an extensive view of the mind—not, as far as we know, taken
from life. Berkeley opined that God
the universe in the monistic sense. That
was the operator of the instrument.
is what Dr. Haeckel does in the Riddle,
Idealists generally have dispensed with
of the Universe. He has spent half a
the operator now. The show unwinds
century in seeking truth. He has fought
itself by some occult law of the mind.
side by side with the finest scientific
thinkers of the last century in overcom In either case “ this too, too solid flesh ”
ing an historic resistance on the part of does melt, and thaw into something
the Churches. No one who is not con thinner than “an everlasting dew,”
Matter is a mental construction, force
vinced that humanity has already, at the
very beginning of its higher life, reached is the same, the world they make up
cannot be otherwise.
There is, of
the final truth, will be diverted by the
course, the agnostic position, that we
sneers and gibes of heated partisans
do not know whether this kinematoscopic
from a patient study of his conclusions.
No one who believes that truth is a panorama is a photograph, or a diagram,
of a real world, or no. But all idealists,
sacred possession, and the first condition
and they are the vast majority in philo
of lasting progress—no one who feels
sophy to-day, sternly insist that the
that dignity and sincerity are the first
matter and force which the scientist
qualities required in its pursuit—will
manipulates are mental counters; that
allow himself to be turned from the true
he is dealing with his idea of matter and
and vital issues by a petty and frivolous
force, whether or no an eternal reality
criticism of irrelevant details.
corresponds to these. Hence it is that
The plan I have adopted is to state
so many cultivated reviewers set aside
first the almost undisputed unity of the
inorganic world, then proceed to con Haeckel’s system with polite disdain.
sider its evolution, and pursue the pro His realism—his habit of talking of
cess of development through the suc matter and force as familiar objective
cessive stages of life, consciousness, and realities—is too naive.
Now this philosophy so obviously cuts
reason. But I have already said that
an important group of philosophers chal out the root of Haeckel’s system that
some of his clerical critics have put on
lenge our right even to the inorganic
superior airs and borrowed phrases from
world as a base of operations. Age
it. If the very existence of matter and
after age philosophy has rung the changes
on the familiar bells—materialism, ideal force is doubtful, clearly monism is in a
parlous state. They forget one thing.
ism, spiritualism, realism. To-day the
system in favour in the schools is ideal If idealism excludes, or throws doubt on,
the objective reality of matter, it in the
ism. According to the idealists the
same proportion destroys the Christian
naive belief of the average man that he
position. What is the meaning of the
lives in a material universe, which lay
Incarnation, or the death of Christ, or
here in space before humanity began to
the whole historic foundation of Chris
furrow its soil, and will lie there still
tianity, if the material world and its
when the last man has dropped into his
eternal tomb, is a delusion. The arch history are subjective ? Dr. Iverach sees
this very well, and warns his impetuous
sophist, Berkeley, comes along, and
colleagues. “In truth,’’ he says, “we
explains that the orange he thinks he
must arrive at a conception which leaves
is vulgarly injecting into a material
cavity he calls a stomach, is only a room for real individuality; that will
�22
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
recognise the uniqueness of every person,
and yet place every person in relation to
every other person and thing that is, has
been, or will be. It must allow reality
to history, and permit a real progress
and real events in it. It must recognise
human activity as a factor in the world’s
history, and recognise somehow that
good and evil, happiness and misery,
righteousness and sin, are not appear
ance, but stern realities, which philo
sophy and theology must deal with.”1
There are, of course, important divines
amongst the idealists, such as Dr. Caird,
but they are neither consistent nor likely
ever to be literally adopted.
The
Catholic Church is intensely realistic.
Its philosophers, Dr. Ward, Dr. Mivart,
Father Maher, Father Clark, etc., have
never yielded a step to the reigning
fashion of idealism. In a word, the
defenders of religion whom Haeckel
opposes are as “ naive realists ” as he is.
It is only the more short-sighted who
meddle with the edged tools of the
modern metaphysician.
But the philosophers themselves, the
aristocracy of the intellectual world!
Are we to go on with our construction
in total disregard of their protest ? I
believe Haeckel is quite right in doing
so. As Mr. Mallock says, these idealist
dreams are not “ the mere raving
which at first sight they seem to be.”
On the other hand, the common fashion
idealists have of saying that the man
who refuses to take them seriously must
be altogether ignorant of their philo
sophy—a species of arrogance peculiar
to idealists and Roman Catholics—is
absurd. Few cultivated men are ignorant
of their arguments.
But the average
man of science, the average historian,
and the average man of affairs, sweep
away their theory as, in the words of
Mr. Mallock, “a fantastic, though in
genious and learned, dream.2 “ If phi1 Theism in the Light of Present Science and
Philosophy, p. 305.
2 Religion as a Credible Doctrine, p. 202.
Mr. Mallock gives an admirable summary of the
system, as presented by its latest and ablest
expositor, Professor James Ward.
losophers,” he says again, “instead of
confining themselves to the solemn alti
tudes of existence . . . would conde
scend to take their examples from the
common events of life, they would avoid
many of the mistakes which expose
them to the just ridicule of the vulgar.”
The historian is hardly likely to admit
that the stupendous drama he is engaged
in reconstructing is not the real play of
living passion. The astronomer is not
prepared to see in the vast expanse of
the heavens only the unreal mirage
of his ideas.
The physicist contemp
tuously repudiates the idealist’s interpre
tation of his matter and force.
The
question is raised, said Sir A. Rucker, in
his presidential address to the British
Association in 1901, “whether our basic
conceptions are to be regarded as accu
rate descriptions of the constitution of the
universe around us, or merely convenient
fictions,” and he gave an emphatic adhe
sion to the former. His speech ended
with a claim that ether and the atom are
not mere mental fictions, not mere “ work
ing hypotheses,” but “objective realities.”
His successor in the presidency, Pro
fessor Dewar, no less strongly repudiated
“ the ancient mystifications by which a
certain school shatter the objective reality
of matter and energy.” Indeed, signs
are not wanting of a coming change
amongst the metaphysicians themselves.
The immense difficulty of explaining how
we can perceive an external world is
familiar enough to every thinking man.
But philosophy must try again.
The
material world is more convincing than
all their difficulties.
The article on
“ Metaphysics,” by Professor Case, in the
latest edition of our greatest Encyclopaedia
is one long warning that the reign, or the
nightmare, of idealism is over, and that
we shall shortly return through “the
anarchy of modern metaphysics ” (as he
says), to a normal belief in the reality of
a material world, the reality of war and
disease and poverty and ignorance, and
the rationality and validity of social
enthusiasm and scientific investigation.
With Professor Haeckel, then, we pass
�THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LA W OF SUBSTANCE
by our perplexed metaphysicians, and
smile at their supercilious comments.
We turn to the spreading panorama of
inorganic nature as the first embodiment
of the monistic substance.1
There
should be no criticism for us to meet
here, but the eagerness to deny and to
discredit and to score a point—as if we
were conducting a mimic Parliament in
some dull provincial town, instead of
being sober searchers for truth—has
been so feverish that we shall find it
breaking out into all kinds of frivolous
criticisms.
When you look up at night into the
heavens you see some three or four
thousand stars scattered through space.
Each is an incandescent sphere, rarely
less than three million miles in circum
ference, and usually separated from its
fellows by billions of miles of space. It
would take some 175,000 years to count
the distance in miles to the nearest of
them. Some of them can be proved to
be at least 1,500,000,000,000,000 miles
away. With the use of a good telescope
the number of these world-masses runs
up to more than a hundred millions.
Yet even then we seem to be only at the
fringe of the question of the magnitude
of our universe. When a telescope
containing a highly sensitive photo
graphic plate is directed to what seem to
be dark and empty parts of space, and
is kept in that position for eight or ten
hours, the plate is found to bear the
faint imprint of a fresh myriad of worlds.
They are so far distant that, though they
are 150 times more luminous than lime
light, and though the waves of light they
send us have been falling on the plate—
1 A certain school would have us admit that,
because our conviction of the reality of the
external world is incapable of demonstrative sup
port, we should grant the same privilege to the
belief in God. There is no analogy whatever.
We cannot get away from our belief in the real
world. The idealists themselves assume it in
their arguments—as when they take the physi
cist’s analysis of sound or light, to throw doubt on
our hearing or sight. There is not a particle of
this irresistibility about the idea of God. We
can trace its roots and reject it without the
slightest inconsistency.
23
a plate that would take a picture in the
merest fraction of a second in day-time
— at the rate of 700,000,000,000,000
per second, many of them fail to make the
least impression after six or eight hours’
exposure. We have no ground for sup
posing our most powerful instruments
bring us to anything like a limit to the
universe.
Is the universe infinite? Dr. Haeckel
speaks of it as infinite and eternal, and
this is just one of those typical cases
where the monist outruns the agnostic.
The criticisms which have been passed
on the phrase “ infinite ” (we shall speak
of eternity later), as applied to the
material universe, are not very dis
cerning. There are critics who imagine
that Haeckel must advance no statement
for which he cannot furnish empirical
proof; whereas he has told us from the
first page that, as a sensible thinker, he
employs his faculty of speculation
(taking care that it starts from facts) as
well as his power of observation. Then
there are critics who insist on thinking—
it is very convenient for their purpose—
that he lays the same stress on every line
of his system, and so cry “ dogmatism ”
wherever the evidence is slender. We
must approach the subject more reason
ably. The question is, does the evidence
of astronomy point in the direction of
limits or of illimitableness ? Philosophy
has nothing to say against the infinity of
the cosmos. “We have no evidence,”
says Dr. Ward, “of definite space and
time limits; quite the contrary. ... we
certainly cannot prove that the universe
as a whole is measurable and therefore
finite. And when we pass to more
purely a priori considerations, the case
against a universe with fixed and finite
limits is equally strong.”1 The idea of
a limit is in fact unthinkable, and the
evidence of astronomy is far from sug
gesting it. “Is the universe infinite?
Who can say ? ” asks Dr. Dallinger.
He refers to the fairly definite scheme of
1 Naturalism and Agnosticism, vol. i. p. 195.
Dr. Ward does not, of course, say the cosmos is
infinite.
�24
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LA W OF SUBSTANCE
our milky way, but says 11 it may be but
a complex particle in a universe of
universes, stretching on for ever and
ever over the bourneless immensity of
the unknown.”1 Briefly, what evidence
we have is totally against the idea of a
limit, and that idea is so unimaginable
that it would never have been suggested
but for theological considerations. Dr.
Haeckel prefers to rely on the scientific
indications. I reserve for a separate
chapter the discussion of Prof. Wallace’s
curious views on the subject.
The next step that science takes is to
establish the unity of this immeasurable
universe. There is no question to-day
about the identity of the matter which
composes these innumerable and widely
distant worlds. The spectroscope is a
more delicate analyst than the apparatus
of the chemist. It has detected poison
and convicted criminals where chemistry
has been mute. And the spectroscope
will tell us the chemical constituents of
Arcturus, 1,500,000,000,000,000 miles
away, as confidently as it ■will analyse
the matter in the laboratory. It needs
for its operation only a ray of light from
the matter in question. We have thus
learned that the material of the stars is
the same as that of our earth. We may
find different elements here and there;
we may find matter in states we cannot
detect or produce on earth. But the
ancient idea that the heavens were made
of a superior substance is totally dis
credited. From end to end of the
known universe matter is one. It is
also established that a more subtle form
of matter, called ether, fills the inter
stellar spaces and penetrates into the
very heart of the most solid substances.
Even the apparently rigid particles of a
1 The Creator, p. 14. Strange to say, Dr.
Dallinger immediately continues: “If that be
so, we can make no useful inference from our
finite universe ” : and shortly after actually infers
that the world was created on the ground that it
is “finite”! “What is finite begins to be,
must have been caused to be” (p. 14). If
Haeckel had proceeded in this slovenly fashion,
what an outcry there would have been.
block of iron are really swimming in
miniature oceans of ether.
But this is not unity, it is a wonderful
variety, some of the critics exclaim; you
give us ether on the one hand and some
seventy-four different kinds of ponderable
matter on the other. The latter part of
the objection is not now seriously urged.
For years the indications in chemistry
pointed towards a real unity of the chemi
cal elements, and to-day no one has any
doubt whatever that they are all multi
ples of some simpler form of atom. The
unity of oxygen, hydrogen, iron, gold, and
so on, is completely accepted. Astrono
mers have observed in some of the stars
matter which seems to be actually in a
transition stage; and physics, which has
made gigantic strides of late, seems to
have detected the same phenomenon in
its laboratories, as Sir O. Lodge points
out in his brilliant Romanes Lecture for
1903. The elements have been built
up by evolution from some simpler and
homogeneous substance. That is the
belief of all physicists and chemists, and
it is based on a mass of facts. Mr.
Ballard thinks it useful, or wise, to raise
the dust even here. He says (third
article—not the one in which he charges
Haeckel with dogmatism) that Haeckel
frankly confesses—as he does—his lack
of expert knowledge of physics, and adds
that these “ ultimate questions of mole
cular physics of necessity determine our
conceptions of the constitution of matter,
and so are fundamental to the whole of
his monistic theory.” This is mere dust
throwing. The unity of matter is a
necessary part of the monistic theory,
but this is given in the commonest and
the finest manuals of physics as an
established and accepted truth; how the
various elements arose from one form of
matter is a subject of merely speculative
interest to Dr. Haeckel, and is not yet
settled. But Mr. Ballard plunges deeper,
and says Haeckel’s confession of weak
ness in physics “ does not prevent his
recommending ‘ the brilliant pyknotic
theory ’ of J. C. Vogt to the acceptance
of every biologist.” Then he begs the
�THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE 25
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND
reader to study the stale criticisms of
Mr. Stallo “before accepting the VogtHaeckel theory as final,” and later says
Haeckel “decides that the conception
which best suits his purpose is the one
to be generally received.”
He then
reads a lesson on the impropriety of
misleading people, and, finally, after a
bewilderingly tortuous run, appeals to
the expert physicists Stewart and Tait
and Lord Kelvin to prove—quite irrele
vantly—that there is a Supreme Being.
The whole passage is too ludicrous to
analyse in detail, but I must point out
two things. Firstly, Mr. Ballard has no
more doubt than I have of the unity, of
matter, which is the only serious point
in question; Haeckel can fit into his
system any theory of the. evolution of
matter that physicists decide to adopt.
Secondly, Mr. Ballard quite misrepre
sents Haeckel’s attitude towards the
“pyknotic theory.” He does not say
“it is the one to be generally received,”
but says (p. 78) he “thinks it will prove
more acceptable to every biologist who
believes in the unity of nature” than
the other theory. The foolishness of
the whole episode is seen when one
reflects that this somewhat old (1891)
theory of Vogt’s is infinitely nearer to
the theories which are being discussed
to-day than the “ kinetic ” theory which
he dislikes.
The unity of all ponderable matter is,
then, an accepted doctrine, but we meet
fresh difficulties when we turn to ask if
there is a unity of ponderable and im
ponderable matter (or ether). . Here, in
deed, we meet a critic of a friendly dis
position whom it is courteous to hear. A
writer in the Reformer says, “ it will be
news to most of us that the ether is. the
original and fundamental matter, since
it is in its properties, so far as known,
pretty nearly the antithesis of all we
understand by material ”; and he
describes ether as “a material substance
which has none of the properties of
matter, and has most of those usually
associated with spirit.” Whether ether
has the properties of spirit or no depends
on what we mean by spirit. Theologians
mean nothing like ether, but spiritists
(who seem to be generally materialists
unconsciously) frequently do.
In any
case both Sir O. Lodge and Sir A.
Rucker meet the objection for us. Sir O.
Lodge, in his Romanes Lecture (1903),
says some physicists admit two kinds of
inertia, and he himself boldly advocates
the unity of electricity and ponderable
matter. “ An electric charge,” he says
(p. 4), “ possesses the most fundamental
and characteristic properties of matter,
viz., mass or inertia.” Sir A. Rucker, in
his presidential speech (1901), sweeps
the objection away as unphilosophical.
“ We cannot,” he says, “ explain things by
the things themselves.
If it be true
that the properties of matter are the
product of an underlying machinery,
that machinery cannot itself have the
properties which it produces, and must,
to that extent at all events, differ from
matter in bulk as it is directly presented
to the senses.”1 The affinity of ether
and ponderable matter is not questioned
in science, whatever the actual degree
of affinity may prove to be. And the
proof is advancing rapidly. I have said
that the astro-physicist finds a . transi
tional matter in the heavenly bodies, and
now the terrestrial physicist announces 2
that in his experiments with the new
element, radium, he witnesses the actual
break-down of the ponderable atom into
a form of matter he associates with
electricity. In fact, every modern theory
1 These principles also dispose of the critic in
Light who finds Haeckel “very uneasy” at
having to fit ether into his scheme, and thinks
his “ annexing ” it is “desperate work at this
hour of the day.” Seeing that the whole trend
of physics has been ever since in the direction
which Haeckel follows, I should say the criticism
is “ desperate work.” Light thinks ether is
“ending the old materialism ” and making for
spiritist monism. As I said, it depends what
you mean by spirit. Religious philosophy has
always meant “ unextended substance.
Ether
is just as quantitative as the most ponderable of
the elements.
2 See Sir O. Lodge’s Romanes Lecture, 1903,
and the discussion at the recent British Associa
tion meeting.
�26
™E miTY 0F ™E WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
of the atom implies its origin from ether,
’
what does Haeckel mean by making this
or their common origin.
’
reality, or substance, of which they are
Haeckel is, therefore, fully justified in
the . manifestations, the central mystery
taking from physics and chemistry his
of life at one moment, and doubting its
thesis of the unity of matter. No man
very existence the next ? A patient ex
of science disputes it, and it is a purely
amination of what Haeckel says, and a
scientific question. With regard to the
little less eagerness to score rhetorical
unity of force, there is even less difficulty.
It is now notorious that the forces of the points, would have enabled Mr. Rhondda
Williams and other critics to see what
universe are interchangeable, and are
he meant. He warned them that the
regarded in physics as so many varieties Riddle'^ a sort of “sketch-book,” and
(chiefly differentiated by wave-movements
they might have expected a lack of com
of different lengths) of one fundamental
plete harmony of expression. Haeckel
energy. I am not, of course, including says (p. 134): “We must even grant that
here the disputed “ vital force ” and the
this essence of substance [more cor
human soul, which later chapters will
rectly, the essence of this substance]
discuss. But the unity of the forces with becomes more mysterious and enigmatic
which the physical sciences deal is beyond the deeper we penetrate into the know
dispute. We have thus so far simplified
ledge of its attributes, matter and energy,
the visible universe as to detect beneath and the more thoroughly we study its
its kaleidoscopic variety the operation of
countless phenomenal forms and their
one form of force and one form of matter evolution. We do not know the ‘thing
from end to end of the universe. The
in itself’ that lies behind these know
next and final step as far as the unity of able phenomena. But why trouble about
the material universe is concerned is to
this enigmatic ‘thing in itself’ when
bring together this matter and force
we have no means of investigating it,
themselves.
when we do not even clearly know
Dr. Haeckel has done this by saying whether it exists or no ? ” The Greeks
that matter and force (or spirit) are “ the long ago started the notion that the
two fundamental attributes, or principal properties or attributes of a thing were
properties, of the all-embracing divine
really distinct from its substance. The
essence of the world, the universal sub mediaeval philosophers made them as
stance.” He further admits that “ the distinct as the skin is from a potato, and
innermost character ” of this substance so it became a general custom to speak
is still totally unexplored; and in the end
of the essence or substance of a thing as
seems to question its existence altogether being hidden within or underneath a
(P- I34)- Here, of course, the critics
shell of properties. The senses stopped
are active. In the first place let us
short at the shell, but the intellect some
examine the alleged arbitrariness of this
how penetrated to the kernel. Kant’s
conjunction of matter and force. It is
critical philosophy destroyed this sup
a perfectly sound scientific and philo posed privilege of the intellect, but
sophic procedure. We not only know substituted for the substance-and-prono form of matter without force, but we perties idea the equally false and arbi
cannot imagine it. It could not act on trary notion of phenomena (qualities or
our organs of perception. On the other attributes that reach the senses) and
hand, we know no force apart from matter noumena (or “ things-in-themselves,”
(or ether). Force seems to be always which would be food for the intellect, if
embodied or substantiated in matter.
it could reach them). In both cases
Each is an incomplete reality; or, rather,
there is the veil of phenomena, or pro
they are two sides, or two different mani perties (colour, sound, shape, etc.), and
festations, of one reality.
That is in the veiled and inaccessible substance,
full accord with scientific teaching. But j <or essence, or noumenon. Now, many
�THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LAW OF SUBSTANCE
of us deny to-day that there is any solid
ground for the distinction at all, and that
is what Haeckel means. You say, he
argues, that matter and force are only
phenomena, and that there is an under
lying “thing-in-itself.” If there is, he
says, it is as mysterious as ever; but I
see no good reason at all for thinking
that matter and force are a screen or
veil hiding something else. They are
the one eternal substance or reality. It
is a pure fallacy to say tnat in oidinary
experience we are dealing with a shell, of
properties or phenomena, and not with
the realities themselves.
Therefore—
logic sternly enjoining us never to multi
ply entities without necessity—I take it
that matter and force are the world-sub
stance breaking upon our perception in
two different ways.1
To illustrate the point , further, and to
meet a further class of critics, let us hear
what science says about these properties
or phenomena of things. Let us take
the familiar ones, sound and colour,
Are you unaware, we are severely asked,
that science has shown these to be
totally subjective ? Yes, I am quite un
aware ", though I know perfectly well
what science has done. I am writing
over a green table-cloth. Science tells
me that this really means that the
material covering my table, is of such a
molecular texture that it absorbs. a
number of the waves of sun-light which
fall upon it, and only reflects the blue
and yellow waves. These it sends to my
retina at the rate of some hundred
billion per second: they cause a
peculiar movement in my optic nerve,
and finally in my brain, and—I see green.
So, as I write, the clock strikes twelve.
That is to say, the metal molecules of
the bell are thrown into a violent
oscillation; they cause waves in the
surrounding atmosphere; and the in
tricate mechanism of the ear turns these
into a modification of my auscultory
nerve and brain. And all this elaborate
description of objective movements and
objective agencies is supposed, to.have
made colour and sound “subjective.!
In point of fact, it has done away, with
the old shell of properties (though, it is a
question how far people ever did say
their sensations of colour and sound
were objective) and brought us into
direct touch with realities. And as all
the unnumbered objects about us con
stitute, fundamentally, one matter and
one force, we are face to face with the
one fundamental reality. We do not
“ know all about it.”
That is the
grossest perversion of Haeckel’s words.
To borrow the fine metaphor of Sir A.
Rucker, we see it in a light that is still
dim, but we see it. It is for the future
to complete the outline and fill in the
detail, as the light grows.1
Thus we have given in terms of
science the world substance, the matter
force reality, which is the constructive
starting point of Monism. The res^
our work consists in eliminating the
additional substances or forces which
theists, spiritualists, or supernaturalists
would compel us to add to it. It only
remains here to say a word of what
Haeckel calls the fundamental “law of
substance.” And first as to Haeckels
idea of a “law.” A fair-minded re
viewer in the Inquirer (March 9, 1901)
says: “The distinguished author seems
to have failed to see that to imagine a
law as an active power is every whit as
‘ anthropomorphic ’ as to imagine a God
of manlike form as feeling.” A writer in
Knowledge (January 30, 1901)—from
whom the Inquirer probably borrowed—
1 From these principles the reader can answer
for himself the often-heard criticism : You build
up the universe by matter and force, but what
do you really know about matter and force themselves ? The answer is : Go to a good library,
and ask for a few recent manuals of astronomy,
geology, chemistry, physics, and physiology. If
they do not deal with matter and force,, they
deal with fictions. The fallacy of the criticism
1 And that is not only the literal, but the only
is, of course, that science deals with this lmposrational, meaning of “phenomenon.”
Prof.
I torly shell of “ phenomena,” and does not reach
Haeckel readily endorses my explanation of his
I the “ essence ” or the “ underlying reality.”
position.
�28
THE UNITY OF THE WORLD, AND THE LA W OF SUBSTANCE
puts it as strongly : “ To scientific minds
tion of energy—which are, said the
who regard laws of nature as merely con Manchester Guardian critic, “precisely
ceptual formulae summing up certain
the oldest of all man’s discoveries in
sequences of experience, it may seem
the cosmological field.”
No particle
that to replace a deliberate architect and
of matter is ever annihilated or created ;
ruler of the world by 1 the eternal iron
that is the first axiom. Recent experi
laws of nature ’ is to be guilty of an
ments have actually seen the break
anthropomorphism precisely analogous to down of what has been called the
those on which the illustrious author
atom, and have seen particles chipped
pours contempt,” and he says, “ evolution off it; but only another form of matter
travels through the book like a creator is produced. The observations have
in disguise.” It would be rather curious
been so broad that physicists have felt
if one of the ablest living scientists did justified in concluding that indestructi
not know what science means by “ a law.”
bility or permanence is a property of
I .say science, because there is here no
matter. The same has been experi
discrepancy of views. That “ law ” only mentally demonstrated of force.1 Both
means “a summing-up of experience,” a are constant in quantity, though ever
uniform mode of action of this or that changing in form and distribution.
force, is a platitude of natural science.
Since we have seen reason for associat
Said Professor Dewar in his Presidential ing matter and force so closely, it is
Speech: “ When the scientist speaks of necessary to combine the two axioms
‘ a law of nature ’ he simply indicates a likewise. The great fundamental reality
sequence of events, which, so far as his
is constant or permanent amidst all its
experience goes, is invariable, and which qualitative changes. That is the first
therefore enables him to predict.” But and firmest law or feature of the monistic
the “law,” or mode of operation, of an
substance.
agency is so closely connected in our
We have now seen that Professor
minds with the agency itself that we fre Haeckel is in full accord with the latest
quently substitute the one for the other.
scientific teaching in his doctrine of the
It is strange to hear that this deceives
unity of the visible world. We have
any one.1 When a scientist speaks of the
seen(i) that matter and force are
law of gravitation, or the law of evolution,
realities; (2) that there is at bottom one
producing or compelling certain results,’
supreme form of each; (3) that there is
he invariably means the force of gravita no reason for holding them to be
tion or the agencies of evolution.
distinct realities, and so we unite them
We come, finally, to what Mr. Ballard as aspects of one substance or reality;
strangely calls Haeckel’s “ irrational law and (4) that this substance is, as far as
of substance.” The law of substance is extended observation goes, constant and
one of the most undoubted truths of indestructible in its quantity. We may
modern science. It is merely the union
now proceed to consider the evolution of
in one sentence of two of the proudest this matter-force reality into the infinite
results of modern physics, the inde complexity of the visible universe.
structibility of matter and the conserva{( 1 Does any one quarrel with us for saying that
“the law” compels us to pay taxes, and so
forth ?
1.'^s 10 t^le difficulty alleged to rise from
radio-action, Sir O. Lodge says there was
“never any ground” for concern about the
theory.
�THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
29
Chapter III
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
Dr. Iverach says, or it may have been one
hundred or more, as others think—the
part of space we occupy was filled with
a cloud (not necessarily a “ fire-mist ”) of
infinitely attenuated matter. By the
action of its inherent and natural forces
this nebular matter entered upon a pro
cess of condensation and disruption.
Portions of it—whether or no they were
cast off in the form of rings, which
broke into irregular masses—condensed
into the several planets of our system,
and were set in revolution round the
central mass. This central mass, the
sun, is still condensing and pouring out
the heat which its compression causes.
The smaller masses, such as the earth,
cooled in time and formed a solid crust
at their surface. This outline is
accepted by all educated people to-day.
Quibbles about the details of the pro
cess are best left to expert astronomers
to deal with.
Our solar system is as a single snow
flake in a shower, but we have already
seen that it in every verifiable way
resembles its fellow flakes. It is of the
same stuff as they, and is ruled by the
same laws or forces. We have un
deniable ground to extend our nebular
theory to other worlds than ours, and
take it as the key to the formation of
all the stars that fill the immeasurable
heavens.
Indeed, we find worlds in
every stage of development, as required
by the theory, when we sweep the sky
at night.
We find nebulse stretching
sometimes over billions of miles (as
the nebula in Orion), and patches cut
out of them, as it were, to form stars.
We find clusters of thousands of stars
(as the Pleiades) with the remnants
still clinging to them of the gigantic
nebula they were developed from. We
1 Theism in the Light of Present Science and
find nebulse and stars illustrating almost
Philosophy, p. 35.
Where shall we begin in a descrip
tion of the growth of the universe?
Can we go back' to a stage beyond
which the imagination cannot penetrate
with its ceaseless questioning? It is
impossible for us to hope ever to do
this. Wherever we start in our con
struction, we shall start with positive
building material, and the imagination,
if not reason, will ask endless questions
about its previous history. All that we
can do is to set out from a definite and
recognised point, the nebula from which
our particular solar system has been
formed. From this, once we have
traced the broad lines of the evolution
of our sun and planets, we may, in. the
light of the discoveries and speculations
of modern science, look back into the
appalling abysses of past time and out
over the boundless panorama of the
universe.
With what is known as the nebular
hypothesis we need not linger. Haeckel
has sketched the outline of the theory,
and there is no relevant criticism of it.
“ There is no doubt,” says Dr. Iverach,
“ that some form of the nebular theory
is true.”1 There are clerical writers
who seem to think it profitable in some
obscure way to point out defects in the
theory, or to prove that the evidence for
it is not overwhelming. What they
gain by such efforts is not clear. The
question has long since passed beyond
the sphere of theology. Catholic
astronomers like Miss Agnes Clerke
accept it as eagerly as atheists. No
man of science entertains the smallest
doubt to-day that it correctly describes
in outline the formation of our solar
system. Once upon a time—it may
have been fifty million years ago, as
�3o
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
every step of the process.
We find
dark stars, extinct suns, which point
to the complete accomplishment of
such a process.
Astronomers are of
late years disposed to think the number
of these extinct suns is enormous.
Moreover, at times a new star flames out
in the sky, announcing the recommence
ment somewhere of the familiar drama
of world-formation.
In a word, the evidence of astronomy
forbids us to look upon the evolution
of the material universe as a continuous
process in a straight line of which we
might picture a definite beginning
and for which we might anticipate a
definite end.
The life-force of the
great substance only dies down in one
corner of space to be relit in another.
The dark stars which indubitably have
run their million-year long course are
only waiting to be reanimated by collision
or some other cosmic accident.
The
nebulae are embryonic worlds before our
own eyes. The blue-white stars are in
the prime of life. The red stars (with
certain peculiarities) are slowly dying,
but may rise again any day from their
tombs. Science, as Dr. Mivart said in
Truth, “ points to no beginning.” Nor
does it help us to approach the subject
from another point of view. We have
not only the evolution of cosmic masses
to explain, but the evolution of the
chemical elements themselves, or of
ponderable matter, from the finer
medium from which all physicists
believe it has been developed. If we
had any scientific evidence which
justified us in going back to a stage
when ether (or whatever the “ prothyl ”
may turn out to be) alone existed; and
could then show how atoms of ponder
able matter arose by condensation of it,
or by the formation of vortices in it;
and could see these atoms being
grouped into the complex atoms of
oxygen, gold, sulphur, &c.; and could
further, trace their aggregation into
meteorites, and the meteorites into
nebulae, and the nebulae into solar
systems—even then we should in
reality be no nearer the beginning.
The “ prothyl ” (or “ first matter,” a
name which does very well to designate
the much-sought elementary substance)
might very well be only the last term of
a previous universe-drama. The cyclic
process may have gone on for ever as
far as science can tell. But in point of
fact the universe does not as yet give
indications of any such continuous
process.
The universe is developed
piecemeal, star by star. The hundred
millions that we see shining to-day are
by no means “the universe.”
We have here a drama of life and
death on an almost inconceivable scale,
but the point I want to bring out is that
even the most daring speculations of
science bring us no nearer to a begin
ning than we are to-day. Dr. Haeckel
has been roundly abused for speaking of
the universe as eternal. I think it is
quite clear that, if we confine ourselves
to scientific considerations, he is using a
very proper kind of language. Here is
a matter-force reality which is constant
and indestructible in its ultimate quan
tity ; and though we can go back millions
of years on solid evidence, and billions
of years on fair speculation, we find no
more suggestion of a limit in time than
we did in regard to space. Certainly,
the greatest number of billions of years
we could imagine would not be nearer
to eternity than a day is. I merely say
that if any one suggests a limit in time
for the cosmic process he will not find
the shadow of a justification in science.
Critics seem at times to employ a curious
logic in dealing with this question.
“Finiteness” and “infinity” are words
with a strong odour of metaphysics about
them. Let us take it that it is a question
simply whether the universe had a be
ginning.
Now, some critics naively
assume that it is our place to prove that
the universe, or matter, or force, or
motion, never had a beginning. That
is a novel kind of logic. Here is the
universe given, and if any one makes the
very pregnant and formidable assertion
that there was a time when it did not
�THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
exist, and that it came into existence
out of nothing, he must have. a very
positive and firm ground for his asser
tion. As far as scientific experience of
matter and force (or motion) goes, they
are not entities that slip in and out of
existence, but are constant. Yet we
have Mr. Rhondda Williams talking of
“ the mystery of the primitive push ” as
having always been the great difficulty
of mechanism. He tries at first to make
a scientific difficulty of it: “ Galileo,
the founder of physical science, laid it
down as the first principle of dynamics,
that every movement of matter could
only be explained by another movement
of matter, and that has been a recognised
principle of science ever since.” 1 Well,
that looks like a very strong confirma
tion of Haeckel’s thesis that matter and
motion must be eternal. But Mr. Wil
liams goes on : “ The difficulty was to
explain how matter began to move, what
caused the first movement, what gave
the primitive push ? ” But science, we
have seen, knows nothing whatever about
any “ primitive push.” It is a purely
gratuitous assumption. Dr. Horton might
refer us to “ the matchless revelation of
Genesis,” and we might suggest that the
Babylonian astronomers of 6,000 years
ago are not very safe guides. Mr. Wil
liams is content to assume the fact of
this “primitive push” without saying
why he thinks there was one. More
than that, he is greatly excited because
Haeckel declines to attempt to explain
it until some good reason has been
shown for thinking there ever was such
a thing. He tell his admiring audience
that Haeckel says “ the origin of move
ment is no difficulty because it never did
originate, he explains by simply denying !
What evidence does he adduce ? Abso
lutely none.” Dr. Haeckel, one would
think, can hardly be expected to spend
time in finding scientific proofs for the
first chapter of Genesis. His position is
negative. Eternity is a negative concept.
We do not prove negations in logic, or
1 Does Science Destroy Religion? (p. 13).
31
in real life. Mr. Williams further says
he has no objection to Haeckel holding
this “as a belief,” but he “does object
to his contention that this type of monism
is based upon empirical investigation.”
This is an unfortunate confusion. The
essence of Haeckel’s position is negative.
But he goes beyond the agnostic chiefly
on the ground of (1) the astronomical
evidence, and (2) the constancy of
matter; and those constitute empirical
evidence.
But to take them as more
than suggestions, and to ask empirical
proof that the world is eternal is rather
funny.
Finally, Mr. Williams says
Haeckel is equally unsatisfactory, about
the origin of consciousness. This just
illustrates Mr. Williams’s essential con
fusion. We know that consciousness
had a beginning, so there is no analogy ;
and in point of fact Haeckel, as we shall
see, devotes whole chapters to the origin
of consciousness.
Now this is a fair illustration of the
dreadful confusion which rules in the
minds of the people who put on very
superior airs about Haeckel’s “ dog
matic ” affirmation that the universe is
infinite and eternal. They almost al
ways assume, often in sweet unconscious
ness, this most important thesis that
there was a time when matter or motion
was not. It is one of the largest asser
tions that was ever made on the poorest
of sophisms. The scientific evidence,
such as it is, favours Haeckel’s negative
attitude.1 Philosophy is equally mute.
1 It is true that Mr. Mallock thinks one might
plausibly infer from what is called the entropy of
the universe that it had a beginning. This is the
only case where Mr. Mallock allows that scientific
evidence even seems to help theism. But we
shall soon see that the theory of entropy is totally
unable to bear the strain of such an inference.
Sir J. W. Dawson, one of the scientists Mr. Bal
lard raises from the dead to answer the Riddle,
says science does not regard the universe as
eternal “because, when we interrogate it as to
the particular things known to constitute the
heavens and the earth, it appears that we can
trace all of them to beginnings at more or less
definite points of past time.” Even at the time
this was written it was false in fact and unsound
in logic.
�32
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
The Greeks held that matter was eternal.
“It is not more difficult,” says Mr.
Mallock, “to suppose an eternal, self
existing and self-energising substance
than it is to suppose an eternal and
self-energising God.” But Christian
scholars have, in the interest of dogma,
tried to prove that the universe must
have had a beginning. We have seen
how Dr. Dallinger skipped from “ bourne
less immensity ” to “ finiteness,” and
concluded that “ what is finite begins to
be.” The last link of his curious chain
is hardly better than the others. Dr.
Iverach suggests the argument, but
abandons it (Ch. I., Christianity and
Evolution}. Dr. W. N. Clarke says:
“The things that we behold, mutable
though magnificent, bear the marks, not
of original, but of dependent existence.
Somehow existence has been caused.”1
Such an argument could only be
elaborated with the aid of a mediseval
metaphysic which we do not take to-day
as a measure of things. Dr. Clarke,
indeed, retreats to the position that even
if it were eternal we should need a
“ character-giving Spirit ” along with it;
a point we shall discuss later.
To sum up: neither philosophy nor
science points to a beginning of the
scheme of things. In view of the con
stancy of matter and the inconceivability
of a creation out of nothing, very strong
evidence would have been required to
make us accept this beginning. As it is,
the only source of the assertion is the
first line of Genesis and a concern for
theistic evidence. Professor Haeckel
has preferred to be guided by the sug
gestions or indications afforded by
scientific evidence. “ Science points to
no beginning,” as Mivart wrote. “We
have no evidence of definite space and
time limits; quite the contrary. . . .
And when we pass to more purely
a priori considerations, the case against
a universe with fixed and finite limits is
equally strong.” 2 Every effort to assign
1 An Outline of Christian Theology, p. 109.
2 l’rof J. Ward, quoted previously.
a beginning fails. We should never have
heard of it but for “ the matchless reve
lation of Genesis.”
Let us now turn to consider whether
science has anything to say with regard
to the end of the universe. As far as
our solar system is concerned, the
teaching of science is firm. Our sun
can only sustain his terrible vitality by
shrinking a certain number of feet every
century. He is doomed, as far as
astronomy can see, to die, like the dark
stars that already lie in the vast cemetery
of space. The air and water will dis
appear from the surface of our planet,
and for a time the heat of the sun will
beat upon the white tomb of all the
hopes and all the achievements of
humanity. The moon is the skeleton
at our feast. Its yawning sepulchre
points out the fate that awaits us.
Thou too, oh earth—thine empires, lands, and
seas—
Least, with thy stars, of all the galaxies,
Globed from the drift like these, like these
thou too
Shalt go. Thou art going, hour by hour, like
these.1
Perhaps Jupiter and Saturn will even
then teem with life, and their astronomers
study nightly the scarred and silent face
of the planet we enliven to-day.2 But
from planet to planet the hand of death
will travel. Then one by one, astrono
mers believe, the planets will fall into
the shrinking bosom of the sun and eke
out its failing vitality. At last the
blood-red sun will die out, and continue
to speed through space at twelve miles
a second, a dark, solid, silent, and
gigantic sepulchre. Physicists talk of
ten million years. It is an hour in
eternity.
1 Mr. Mallock’s Lucretius.
2 When Prof. Lionel Beale says (Vitality,
p. 4) that “ the more recent discoveries as to the
constitution of our sun and the planets as well
as the fixed stars, render it most improbable that
life exists in these or other orbs,” one can only
gasp with astonishment. There is no truth
whatever in it; and the mere idea of people
living in the stars—at a temperature of several
thousand degrees—makes one uncomfortable.
�THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
For this is only a relative end. The
whole hundred-million-year drama of our
history will be, in our present cosmical
perspective, only the subsidence of a
tiny ripple on the bosom of an illimitable
ocean. Millions of similar dramas had
been played out before ours began; and
when silence shall have fallen succes
sively on the planets of our system, the
great nebulae that lie against the back
ground of space will be but waking into
existence. Moreover, the dark stars, and
the new stars that appear at times in the
heavens, point to an indefinite prolonga
tion of the process. The colliding of two
of these extinct suns—two globes of per
haps 800,000 miles diameter (like the dark
companion of Algol)-—would generate
heat enough to reduce them to a nebu
lous mass, pouring out for millions, if not
billions, of miles ; and the force of gravi
tation would ensure a further condensa
tion and world-formation. Actual collision
is, indeed, net believed to be necessary ;
in cases an approach within a few million
miles is believed to have led to a stellar
conflagration. Moreover, there are stars
so stupendous (take Arcturus, for in
stance), and moving at such inconceivable
speed through the universe, that we can
only look upon them as destructive
anarchists.
The universe, taken as a
whole, has all the appearance and promise
of “ perpetual motion.”
Recent writers have, however, appealed
to the theory of entropy as a scientific
indication of an end of the process.
Briefly, all energy can be (and is daily)
converted into heat, but heat is not all
reconverted into electricity, &c. This
seems to forecast a time when all the
working energy of the universe will be
dissipated, or lost in a generally diffused
heat.
Mr. Mallock has pointed out
(though Lord Grimthorpe and others had
done so years ago) that if this were true
the universe cannot have been eternal.
We should have reached the final stage
long ago. Haeckel has described and re
jected the theory. It only remains for me
to show how the very latest pronounce
ments of science quite confirm his posi
33
tion. Physicists generally are by no means
disposed to allow that, because in our
laboratories a certain quantity of the heat
force cannot be reconverted, we may
jump to a cosmic conclusion on the
matter. Mr. Mallock admits that many
physicists reject it altogether, “ but
since others equally eminent maintain
that there is no escape from it—so far at
least as our present knowledge extends
—it is necessary to consider how it may
bear on the point at issue.”
The
parenthetic clause contains the essential
weakness of the theory. It assumes an
acquaintance with cosmic processes
which science is very far from possessing.
Sir O. Lodge deals with the point
incidentally in his recent Romanes
Lecture. “ So long,” he says, “ as there
is only a force of one sign at work it
would seem that ultimately the regenera
tive process must come to an end. The
repellent force exerted by light upon
small particles, however, must not be
forgotten ; and there are other possibili
ties.”
These possibilities have been
emphasised by the most recent discoveries
in physics, in connection with radio
action, so that Haeckel was more than
justified in declining to accept the hasty
and unwarranted conclusions of the
entropists.
Sir O. Lodge suggests an analogous
theory with regard to matter—a kind of
entropy of matter—but he suggests only
to reject it. He and many distinguished
physicists see in the phenomena of
radium, which have so greatly agitated
the world of physicists of late, an actual
breakdown of the atom. Electrons (units
of electricity) are detached from matter
at an electrode, and it is believed that
these electrons are really “ bits chipped
off” the .Acr'0 It is a “reasonable
hypothesis ” that an atom of ponderable
matter is made up of these electrons.
An atom of hydrogen is something like
the hundred-millionth of a centimetre in
diameter; yet an electron has only about
one-thousandth the mass of an atom of
hydrogen.
It is calculated that 700
electrons would go to make the hydrogen
c
�34
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
atom, 11,200 to make the atom of oxy
gen, and so on with the other elements.
Not that these electrons are to be pic
tured as locked in each other’s embraces
to form a solid atom. If the atom were
magnified to the size of the Sheldonian
Theatre, its constituent electrons would
be “ like full-stops flying about the
room.” They occupy the atom by their
forceful activity, not by bulk. These
electrons are thought to be the ultimate
units of which the atoms of ponderable
elements are built—though no doubt Sir
Oliver would allow that there remains
the question of the formation of these
electrons themselves from a continuous
medium.
But the most curious fact
is that in the experiments on radium
the atoms seem to disintegrate and give
rise to other forms of matter, which break
up in their turn. This seems to point to
a dissipation of matter into electrons cor
responding to the dissipation of force into
heat. But Sir O. Lodge reminds us at
once of the impropriety of founding such
large cosmic theories on our laboratory
experiments. ‘'‘There may be regenera
tion as well as degeneration,” he urges,
and he points to the analogy of the
collision of stars.1 Theoretical physics
is making rapid pace to-day—too rapid,
some physicists say. But the whole of
its recent discoveries and speculations go
to confirm those physical theorems which
Professor Haeckel took from the physics
of the time when he wrote (1890-5), and
built into the structure of his system—viz., the unity of matter and force, the
indestructibility of matter and conserva
tion of energy, and the evolution of the
ponderable out of imponderable matter
and its natural aggregation, by gravita
tion, into nebulae and solar systems.
Monism can easily acccrr.modace itself to
any rectifications of the details of these
theorems.
1 On the whole question see the Romanes
Lecture for 1903—which recalls the brilliant
expository work of Professor Tyndall—and the
proceedings of the Physical and Mathematical
Section at the meeting of the British Association,
September, 1903.
We are thus made acquainted with the
second great law of the universal matter
force reality—evolution. Avoiding meta
physical and abstract formulas, and keep
ing as closely as possible to the facts of
science, we learn from the study of in
animate nature that the life of this
great reality stretches as far behind and
before us in time as its substance
stretches over the abysses of space. We
find it in a condition of orderly and con
tinuous development. Chronologically,
we cannot reach back to any stage of the
process where we discover a continuous
and homogeneous form of matter and
force diffused through space.
But phy
sical analysis brings us almost within
sight of such a “ prothyl ” (first-matter)
and of the connecting link between
ponderable and imponderable matter.
If we can to-day witness the disintegra
tion of the atom, we are completely
justified in forming theories of its inte
gration ; and the theories find strong
empirical confirmation in the astro-phy
sical observations. We can trace the
upward growth of our “ prothyl ” into
the familiar chemical elements with their
immense variety of properties—and it
may be noted, in face of the recru
descence of old metaphysical theories
as to these new properties, that the new
elements (formed in radio-action, for
instance) sometimes only acquire their
distinctive qualities with very sensible
gradations. The titanic forces of the
universe—already differentiated into
heat, electricity, gravitation, &c.—mould
the new-formed matter into meteorites,
nebulae, stars, and solar systems. Man
looks about him on a vast and restless
ocean of being, on the surface of which
the life of his whole race is no more
than a momentary bubble.
There are two points to be considered
before we follow Dr. Haeckel into the
more contentious field of biological evo
lution in which he possesses an almost
unique authority.
We have to meet
the charge that Haeckel tries to bully
and depress us with the magnitude of
this “ cosmological perspective,” and we
�THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
must see how far his opponents accept
this teaching of modern science. Mr.
Ballard declares that this “ latest pseudo
gospel from Jena is as miserably be
littling and depressing as it is intellec
tually invalid and practically unwork
able.” A^critic in the Daily Chronicle
expresses the same sentiment (as to
depression), and it has been repeated
by many of the reviewers. There is an
excellent English proverb about the
proof of a pudding which might have
saved these writers if they had heeded
it. Haeckel himself is by no means
depressed by his “ cosmological perspec
tive,” if he is saddened at times by the
slow progress of truth. No Rationalist
is ever heard to complain of or to betray
the faintest depression at his position.
Sometimes, indeed, with that marvellous
alacrity of his, the theologian flies to
the other extreme, and says the Ration
alist must infallibly come to the practical
conclusion to eat and drink and be
merry. It is curious that we, who are
credited at times with making too much
use of reason, should be held to make
so little use of it in the ordering of our
lives. Quite certainly one effect of this
perception of our infinite littleness in
the universe at large, with its yawning
cosmic sepulchres on every side, is to
make us eager to enjoy our present life.
Quite certainly we say to ourselves, in
the words of Omar,
“ Ah ! make the most of what we yet may spend
Before we too into the dust descend.
Dust into dust, and under dust to lie,
Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and sans
end.”
«Ve have not the remotest idea of
being depressed or bullied by the im
mensity of the universe or its sepulchral
aspect. That would be folly, not ra
tionalism. Moreover, it would be equal
folly to plunge into those sensual depths
which are so strangely said to be the
alternative to depression. Life is too
precious a thing to be squandered on
every impulse. Its potentialities must
be reasoned out. The promise and the
35
prospect of developing its higher gifts
must be pondered. Science, art, litera
ture, social and political activity, refined
intercourse, and sweet homes—those are
the most precious gifts life offers to us.
We are rationalistic enough to prefer the
higher to the lower, to prefer gladness to
depression.
The objection is, in fact, a purely
captious one. Haeckel’s belittlement of
man is relative. It aims at discrediting
the traditional and arrogant doctrine of
man’s uniqueness, which has done so
much to obstruct the advance of truth
in the nineteenth century. Even if it
were depressing to learn that we are not
compacted of a special material, and that
the universe is not a toy-theatre for us to
play our parts on before the angels, we
should welcome the truth and speak it.
The code of morals that consults our
likes and dislikes does not find favour
amongst Rationalists. But depressing
the truth certainly is not; and it is only
belittling in a narrow, comparative sense.
One of Haeckel’s critics proceeds to
show that, “ if we look at evolution from
above downwards, man is still the chief
thing in the universe.” With a passing
reminder that we do not know the whole
of evolution—we do not know what the
process may have produced in other
planets—we need only say that here is,
of course, another aspect of the question.
But to suppose that it has been over
looked, and that the belittlement is other
than comparative, is quite gratuitous.
The last point we have to deal with
here is: What is the attitude of the
opponents of Monism on the teaching
we have seen thus far ? As far as the
inorganic universe is concerned, they
accept the teaching of science, and are
usually content to add to it a theistic
supplement. They generally deny, as
we saw, the infinity and eternity of the
universe; and we have discussed the
grounds of their denial. The more
impetuous and less informed of them
have some vague notion of rendering
service to religion by criticising (for the
edification of their followers) every
�36
*
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
advance of scientific theory. Even Dr.
Dallinger protests that the nebular
hypothesis is not “an undisputed and
established fact of modern science.”
Others, like Mr. Ballard, recommend the
study of sceptical writers like Stallo.
All these petty criticisms might profitably
be left out of religious controversy.
They tend to no conclusion now. There
was a time when theistic evidence meant
the detection of gaps in the scientific
view of the world, and a rush to fill up the
gap with supernatural action. It is be
ginning to dawn on the more enlightened
of our theists that this is weak in logic,
and dangerous in practice. Who could
number the gaps they have occupied
during the last two centuries—and
deserted ? They are beginning to see
at length—what they were begged to
consider from the beginning—that a gap
in scientific construction may only mean
our temporary (or even permanent)
ignorance, and does not necessarily
imply a real breach or defect in the
action of natural agencies. We shall
see more of this later. Meantime Mr.
Mallock says: “ If we compare the
evidences in favour of the monistic
doctrine generally with the objections
urged by religious dualists against it, the
great difference between the two is this :
that whilst the objections of the latter
are isolated, disconnected, casual, the ex
isting evidences of the former cohere and
dovetail into one another like numbered
stones designed for some vast edifice:
and whilst the missing evidences of the
monist are one by one being found, the
objections of the dualists are in daily
process of being discredited.” 1 Hence,
he says, “ educated apologists of all
schools accept evolution to-day,” and he
quotes Professor Ward as saying that, if
there has been any interference in the
cosmic process, it “ took place before the
process began, not during it.” And
Professor Le Conte, whom Mr. Ballard
recommends us to read, and who accepts
evolution from the atom to the human
mind, says: “ Evolution is no longer a
school of thought. The words evolu
tionism and evolutionist ought not any
longer to be used, any more than
gravitcitionism or grcivitationist; for the
law of evolution is as certain as the law
of gravitation.” 1
So theistic writers are beginning to
repudiate the theology of gaps. “ How
slow of spirit we have been to learn
that the Divine Spirit does not work
through gaps,” says Mr. Newman Smyth.2
Already we see a tendency to prove on
theological principles that the world
must have been evolved, from the
primary matter (and there is a disposition
to let this be eternal) up to the human
mind j that evolution is the one divine
process, and that the old idea of succes
sive interferences in the work is too
undignified altogether. This language
will be heard from every village pulpit in
fifty years’ time. We need not be spite
ful about it; but, on the other hand,
these advanced theologians, who know
it, might understand the irony and
humour of a great scientist who has
lived through the struggles of the last
fifty years. At present the spectacle we
witness is not unlike that of the competi
tors in a walking-match. In front are
a few laymen like Professor Le Conte
and Mr. Fiske (who have nearly
dropped their theism for greater lightness
on the way). Mr. Rhondda Williams
and Mr. Newman Smyth are not far
behind. Canon Aubrey Moore and Dr.
W. N. Clarke would be well in the
running if they were still here. Mr.
Ballard, who thinks “ Christian thinkers
have every reason for accepting evolution
as the general method of world-growth ”
(but makes a tremendous pother when
it comes to the evolution of life), and
Dr. Iverach, who is not anxious to
quarrel with evolutionary terms “ except
in so far as they become the symbols of a
mechanical evolution ” (but
raise much
dust as he goes along), are at a third
stage. Mr. Ambrose Pope, who thinks
*• Religion as a Credible Doctrine., p. 78.
1 Evolution and Religious Thought, p. 66.
2 Through Science to Faith, p. 20.
�THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
“ the theory of evolution is a scientific
hypothesis, true only in the sense that it
explains all the facts to hand at present,
true in exactly the same sense in which
the theory of creation, as found
in Genesis, was at the time it was
written,” comes a bad fourth—in line,
however, with the average “ cultured ”
preacher and the leader-writers and
reviewers of the Tablet, Guardian, and
Church Times.
Then we have a
straggling line of Christian Evidence
Lecturers, tract-writers, preachers, and
leader-writers in the Methodist Luminary,
&c.; ending in bunches of suburban
curates and rural vicars, who are still
handicapped with heavy old copies of
the Bible.
All this puts a peculiar difficulty in
the way of the Rationalist. If he
attacks the attitude of the advanced
minority, Christianity at large repudiates
his criticism; if he tilts at the con
ventional beliefs, the little band of the
intellectuals use excited
language.
There is hardly a single question on
which we have anything like a solid
front to meet. This will be clearer as
we proceed. As regards the inorganic
universe, we may say that no Christian
scholar of any serious influence ques
tions its unity, its actual constancy (or
its first law—the law of substance), or
its formation by gradual development
(its second law—the law of evolution)
from a primitive matter. They rest their
dualism, as far as visible nature is con
cerned, on (i) the need for a creator of
matter and force, and (2) the need for a
directive intelligence. With the first
point—or with its groundwork—we have
already dealt, and will deal again in the
chapter on God. The second point
must be very clearly grasped. It is the
last conceivable quasi-scientific argu
ment for the existence of God. It will
confront us throughout the next three
chapters, and it will before long be the
only argument of “physical theology.”
In its general formula it runs:
Although science can assign the efficient
or physical causes of the complex
37
phenomena about us, it cannot say why
they produced just these phenomena and
not different ones ; and the more clearly
science shows that an elaborate pheno
menon—say, thought, or life—is only
the outcome of a long and intricate
evolutionary process, the more pressing
is the need to admit that the evolutionary
agencies were guided and controlled by
intelligence from the first. The argu
ment is not a new one, of course, but the
best-informed theistic apologists are
warning their colleagues to fall back on
it at once, and to abandon the defence
of temporary gaps and petty criticisms
of science. “We are not,” says Dr.
Iverach (though he will forget it later),
“of those who are constantly looking
about for imperfections in a mechanical
or other theory in order to find a chink
through which the theistic argument
may enter. If that were our position,
the argument for theism would soon be
a fugitive and a vagabond on the face of
the earth; each advance of science, each
discovery of law, would simply drive the
theistic argument to find a new refuge.” 1
So Mr. Newman Smyth says : “ The
assurance of faith cannot be maintained
from a fortified critical position outside
the province
of the evolutionary
science.” And
Mr.
R.
Williams
declares : “ I do not worship a God
who only fills gaps, nor hold a religion
whose validity depends on missing
links.” Teleology is the word. The
scientist will show you everywhere
certain forces co-operating to produce
certain complex results. Point out that
these “ blind ” erratic forces must have
been guided in their co-operation,
especially if the result is beautiful [or
orderly or beneficial or admirably adapted
to produce a certain further result.
The advantage of “ the new teleology ”
1 Christianity and Evolution, p. 26. Observe
the excellent description of what the theistic
argument has been for some time and the naive
proposal of this as a mere contingency. We
shall find, too, that the old Adam is still strong in
Dr. Iverach, and he is still keen on gaps in
practice.
Bishopsgate Institute*
�38
THE EVOLUTION OF THE INORGANIC WORLD
—which is the “old teleology” re
enamelled—is obvious. Science may
now strain its mechanical causes as it
pleases to explain the origin of life and
consciousness. The more stupendous
the results it claims for physical agencies,
the clearer will it be that there were
design, guidance, and control. More
over, the argument comes into play from
the very first step that evolutionary
science takes. The best illustrations of
its application will be found in Dr.
Iverach and Mr. Profeit.1 They follow
step by step the teaching of physics and
chemistry, and pause at the end of each
paragraph to admire the wisdom of the
creator with Paleyesque devotion. Be
hold the primitive matter mould itself
into electrons and atoms. Whence did
it get the power? How came a blind
force to put together the electrons in
such an orderly series of atoms with such
wonderful chemical adaptations to each
other? Behold the ponderable matter
grow into nebulae and solar systems.
Who distributed the elements so nicely
amongst the various nebulae ? Who
distributed the elements
the nebula,
and broke off the whirling rings at the
proper moment, and set the planets
going at the requisite speed, that a
system of perfect order resulted, and
was found to be just suited for the
sustenance of life ?
Now let us be perfectly clear. This
argument is to be the great reply to
Haeckel, and it will recur all through.
It thinks it differs from the old Paleyism
in this : it can grant science the power,
either now or in the future, to give a
complete explanation on physical lines of
the up-building of an atom or a world.
1 The Creation of Matter. Mr. Ballard tells
us this may count as a reply to the Riddle. It
has been published since the Riddle, but does
not seem to mention Haeckel’s book.
As it says, science may explain how
these things were done. It adds that
every thoughtful man must ask also
why—why the process took place at all,
and why it took this particular line, with
such a lucky termination for us, rather
than any one of a thousand others.
They say: Let Haeckel explain the
whole world-growth on mechanical
principles, from the formation of the
first atoms of hydrogen to the solidifica
tion of the last planet. That only tells
how natural forces built up the world :
we want to know why. So we can
allow the naturalist or mechanical view
to be complete in itself, yet leaving full
room for us. ■
In order to avoid the repetitions and
the confusion which this design
argument leads to, I propose to take the
hint offered and keep quite separate the
questions how the world was made and
why it was so made. In this and the
following three chapters we shall see
how the world was made ; in the seventh
chapter we shall discuss the teleological
argument in its principle. We shall see
that the theistic evolutionists are by no
means prepared in practice to allow that
science can explain how all things were
made, or to assign adequate efficient
causes
for
the
more
complex
phenomena. The first line of defence
had better hold as long as it can, in
case the second should be not quite
impregnable. As to inorganic nature,
however, there is no serious hesitation.
The inherent or native qualities of the
matter-force reality (I am not shirking,
but deferring, the question why it has
these qualities at all) are generally
admitted to be the adequate efficient
explanation of the formation of atoms
and stars. The first serious challenge
rings out when we come to the frontiers
of living nature.
�THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
39
Chapter IV
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
No sooner do we pass from the con
sideration of inorganic nature to a
discussion of the origin of life than we
encounter in a severe form the per
plexity I have previously indicated. Do
theists or dualists deny that Haeckel
may legitimately extend the monistic
interpretation to the problem of life ?
At once we have to deal with a straggling
line of contradictory thinkers, instead of
the fairly solid front which we desire
to face.
A large number of the
authorities recommended to us as cor
rectives of Haeckel’s philosophy entirely
agree with him in his theory of the
spontaneous generation of life, and are
content to add, as before, the teleo
logical consideration. A large number
severely criticise his position—and
therefore that of their own advanced
colleagues—even from the point of view
of physical or efficient causation ; and
there is every grade of vacillation
between the two.
It will be interest
ing to see first how far the doctrine
of the first appearance of life by
abiogenesis is accepted by theistic
writers,
It is well known that Dr. Mivart
defended the doctrine with great ability
for the twenty years preceding his death.
To-day Father Zahm and other Catholic
scientists are no less willing to admit it.
That Professor Le Conte and Mr. Fiske
accept it goes without saying. Dr. W.
N. Clarke is disposed to grant it:
“Life, when its time came, may have
come in by direct creation; so may
human life or the life of other species;
or the whole process of unfolding may
have been continuous, impelled by only
one kind of divine movement from first
to last. Whether God has performed
specific acts of creation from time to
time is a question for evidence, which
lies outside the field of theology.”1
Mr. Newman Smyth admits that it is now
irresistible: “ While the fact is now
universally admitted that non-living
matter cannot now be organised into a
living form except through the prior
agency of life, on the other hand the
momentum of all our scientific know
ledge of the continuities of nature leads
modern biology to the assumption that
the organic substance at some time has
been raised and quickened from the
deadness of the inorganic world.” 2 Mr.
Profeit also is willing to admit the
evolution of protoplasm, though only
“as the result of working intelligence.” 3
Dr. Iverach, who is also anxious to
stress the teleological aspect, never
theless admits that life was “ implicit in
the whole ”; though we shall find him
raising superfluous difficulties later.
Thus in his allegation of the fact that
life was evolved out of non-life Professor
Haeckel finds himself in quite respect
able company. The sonorous philo
sopher of one of our dramatic and
sporting papers (the Referee} delivered
himself as follows some months ago
(March ist, 1903): “At the very
threshold of this great theme we
encounter the eternal question as to
how life began at all, and here the
scientist cannot help us.” It would be
1 Outlines of Christian Theology, p. 132.
2 Through Science to Faith, p. 17.
3 The Creation of Matter, p. 96 ; his proviso
is, of course, shared by all these evolutionists.
We are for the present concerned only with
efficient causation. When Mr. Profeit goes on
to tell us that when protoplasm appeared “the
stars clapped their hands for joy,” we can hear
the rustle of his surplice. The evolution must
have taken millennia, if not millions of years.
There was no psychological moment for applause.
�40
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
interesting, and not a little enlighten
ing, for “Merlin” to investigate this—
under the circumstances—remarkable
phenomenon of a group of ardent
religious apologists subscribing to the
doctrine of abiogenesis. But “ Merlin ”
might quote a number of scientific men
(of ecclesiastical standing) who make
the same affirmation in yet stronger
language, and who denounce Haeckel
with some vigour for representing
abiogenesis as a scientific theorem.
There is Dr. Horton, the admirer of
Vogt and Buchner, who assures us
that “ no leading man of science treats
it [Haeckel’s theory of the origin of life]
seriously.” But the leading opponent
is Mr. Ballard, and we will treat his
criticism at respectful length. It will
lead us, sooner or later, into the heart
of the difficulty.
It will be remembered that in his
attack in the British Weekly, in which
he emulates the spirited Dr. Loofs in
literary manner, he devotes the bulk
of his articles (about twelve columns
out of thirteen) to preliminary obser
vations, and then turns, “ for sheer relief,”
to criticise Haeckel from the scientific
point of view. I will strike off super
fluous errors as I go along, and deal with
the essence of his objection afterwards.
“To begin with,” he says, “its funda
mental thesis is utterly unscientific, viz.,
the assumption of the actuality of spon
taneous generation.” To begin with, I
may repeat, this sentence contains three
grave and essential misrepresentations.
Spontaneous generation is very far from
being the “fundamental thesis ” (or the
“fundamental axiom” and “crucial
proof ” he elsewhere calls it) of the
Riddle, or of Haeckel’s system ; it is not
an “assumption,” but a serious conclu
sion ; and Haeckel does not claim that
spontaneous generation takes place to
day. It is preposterous to suppose that
Haeckel’s fundamental thesis should be
one that many Christian scholars accept,
and the reader will already understand
that, though it is necessarily involved in
Monism, it is no more “ fundamental ”
than ten other propositions. But Mr.
Ballard proceeds to make good his state
ment. He says Haeckel “frankly ac
knowledges that spontaneous generation
is ‘ an indispensable thesis in any natural
theory of evolution. I entirely agree
with the assertion that to reject abio
genesis is to admit a miracle.’ ” “ An,”
one may observe, is different from “the,”
and “ indispensable ” from “ fundamen-'
tai ” ; but that is a comparative trifle. No
page is given, but if you do look up the
passage (page 91) you find that Haeckel
is saying that Professor Naegeli represents
it as “an indispensable thesis,” and that
“the assertion” should be “his asser
tion.” It would not do, I suppose, to
let readers of the British Weekly know
that Haeckel does not stand alone, so
the quotation is manipulated. More
over, the phrase, “to reject abiogenesis
is to admit a miracle,” is quoted by
Haeckel from Naegeli, but the quotation
marks are omitted by Mr. Ballard. The
reader may judge if the fact of Haeckel’s
agreeing with Naegeli justifies this. I
know that Mr. Ballard quotes the passage
fairly in his Miracles of Unbelief My
second point, that it is not an “assump
tion,” will be clear when I come to resume
the evidence for it. The third point is
that if Mr. Ballard uses “actuality” in
the ordinary sense of the word, as the
ordinary reader will suppose, he gravely
misstates Haeckel’s position. That he
does imply that Haeckel claims spon
taneous generation to be “ actually ”
occurring is clear from his appeal to
those scientists (Tyndall, Pasteur, &c.)
who disprove no more than this. As a
fact Haeckel says (p. 91) : “ I restrict the
idea of spontaneous generation—also
called abiogenesis or archigony—to the
first development of living protoplasm
out of inorganic carbonates.” Further,
Haeckel refers the reader to his earlier
work for details, and Mr. Ballard himself
quotes therefrom that Haeckel only offers
the doctrine as “a pure hypothesis”
without experimental support.
Haeckel’s position is, then, properly
stated, that we have no evidence that
�THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
living things now arise by spontaneous
generation; that the monistic view of
the universe, which other scientific
evidence commends, requires the birth
of living things from non-living in the
beginning; that he finds no peculiar
qualities in the vital force which forbid
the extension of the law of evolution to
it; and that he therefore sketches a
purely hypothetical suggestion of the
mode of transition on broad lines. A
really careful and impartial inquirer
would see that the essential part of this
position, from the logical point of view,
is the third part of it—the conviction
that there is no peculiar feature of the
vital force which forbids us to assume
its evolution. Evolution is a known
law of the cosmos—or “ the general
method of world-growth,” as Mr.
Ballard says. We apply it until we are
pulled up by some phenomenon of a
specific nature that seems impossible to
have been evolved. But Mr. Ballard
utterly disregards this chief strength of
Haeckel’s position (supported by the
whole of this chapter of the Riddle),
proceeds to flourish weapons which do
not reach that position at all, and con
cludes that Haeckel is “ utterly without
scientific warrant,” or, as he has previously
said, he “ sets at defiance the latest and
most exact findings of science, and cuts
the Gordian knot by sheer assertion of
that which is essential to his hypothesis,
but is itself undemonstrated, and, we
may venture to add, on good authority,
undemonstrable.” His procedure is
so typical of the usual confused dis
cussion of the subject that we may
follow him to the end.
After saying that Haeckel offers no
proof—which we will discuss presently—
he goes on to overwhelm him with the
“ conclusions of experts.” G Between
the inorganic and the organic, there is,
according to all the facts now known
and the consensus of modern science
concerning them, a stage in which, to
quote Mr. Wallace, ‘ some new cause or
power must necessarily have come into
action.’ ” We are defending a gap after
4i
all, you see; though Mr. Ballard says it
is not essential to do so. Further, it is
not only “utterly without scientific
warrant,” but “ emphatically ” contra
dicted by “the conclusions of such
experts as Tyndall, Pasteur, Drysdale,
Dallinger, Roscoe, Kelvin, Beale, &c. ” ;
and “for modern science, speaking
generally and carefully, spontaneous
generation is as dead as Huxley’s
Bathybius.” One’s mind goes back
involuntarily to those clerical spontane
ous generationists and the horrible
levity with which they have deserted the
gap. The truth is, as those who know
anything of the controversy will have
seen long ago, Mr. Ballard is throwing
dust. He knows perfectly well that the
only point on which scientists are
agreed—and Haeckel is quite with them
—is that abiogenesis does not take place
to-day; that is a thesis which Haeckel
has explicitly disavowed. The experi
ments of Pasteur never purported to
prove anything else, and never could.
His favourite Professor Beale admits his
own solitude : “ Physicists and chemists
look forward with confidence ” to further
experiments, and “think to acquire a
knowledge of the manner in which the
first particle of living matter originated.”1
He cannot quote a single biologist to
say that his science is against Haeckel’s
“ hypothesis ” of abiogenesis in the past.
I will presently quote more than one in
favour of it, in the sense of endorsing
Haeckel’s most important point—that
there is no essential difference between
vital force and non-vital force. He, a
bachelor of science, has blurred the
distinction between actual abiogenesis
and archigony, which is essential, and
which has been pointed out for twenty
years by men of science. And this is
the culmination of his attack on Dr.
Haeckel, and, I suppose, the chief justi
fication for the gross epithets he has
showered on one of the most venerable
figures in the scientific world.
Mr. Mallock says : “ It was formerly
1 Vitality, p. 7.
D
�42
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
supposed that they [life and manj were Mr. Ballard and others so confusedly
produced by isolated creative acts; but represent as opposed to Haeckel.
we now know that they are the results of Science draws no inference, and logic
an orderly process of evolution. The can draw no inference, with regard to the
theist of to-day admits this as fully as primeval origin of life from this negative
anybody.” Unfortunately, we see that evidence. This has been pointed out
there are theists, who are held to be men time after time, as it was by Sir W.
of scientific culture and liberality, who do Turner in his Presidential Address in
not admit it, and we must discuss the 1900.
subject patiently. This is largely the
Haeckel’s second point (in my analysis
result of people like Mr. Ballard, in their of his position) is that we have ample
eagerness to draw up a long list of reason to regard evolution as a law of
“ sound ” literature, recommending all substance, or a law of nature. We
kinds of antiquated works. For instance, have seen how completely scientific
one of the authors he urges us to read this thesis is.
“ Evolution,” said
on this question, “ Principal Chapman,” Canon A. L. Moore, sixteen years ago,
assures his readers that Buchner and “may fairly claim to be an established
Haeckel assert “life now can be repro doctrine.”1 And we have quoted the
duced out of inorganic conditions,” and Rev. Newman Smyth’s opinion that “ the
attacks the “asserted possibility of arti momentum of all our scientific know
ficially producing organic compounds” ledge of the continuities of nature leads
—which are produced artificially by the modern biology to the assumption that
score to-day ; whilst his general culture the organic substance at some time has
may be measured by his giving the been raised and quickened from the
motto of the Buchner school as : “ Ohne deadness of the inorganic world.” As a
Phosphor ohne Gedank.” This does matter of scientific procedure, then, we
not tend to the advancement of truth. are bound to assume that life arose by
Let us have a clear idea what the real evolution until it has been proved that
position of Haeckel’s theory is in the vital force is something specifically
science.
distinct from physical force, and could
I have stated it in four theses, and not have been derived from it. That is
will deal with these separately. In the both the scientific and the logical way of
first place, scientists of all schools are looking at the question. The scientist
agreed that we do not know a single case does not depart from his ordinary
of abiogenesis taking place to-day. methods without grave reason; nor does
Curiously enough, religious philosophers nature. Nature evolves, wherever evolu
in the Middle Ages believed that any tion is not impossible. The really im
number of highly organised forms of life portant point is, then, this question
(such as bees) were produced daily by whether there is something so peculiar
spontaneous generation. It was science about vital force that we cannot suppose
that first opposed them. However, a it to have been evolved; and we find
few decades ago a group of materialistic accordingly that Haeckel devotes several
scientists made a stand for abiogenesis as pages to the point. I will not repeat,
an actual occurrence, and there was a but only supplement these from other
fierce controversy. It was a purely scientists; though, as we will discuss the
scientific quarrel, Tyndall opposing them question of the nature of life more fully
as firmly as the semi-vitalist Pasteur. It later (in the chapter on Lord Kelvin’s
was abundantly proved that no living intervention), I will not say more than is
thing we are acquainted with to-day is necessary for our purpose here.
developed without living parentage.
This is that “ teaching of science ” (to
1 Science and the Faith, p. 162: one of the
which Haeckel fully subscribes) which works Mr. Ballard recommends to us.
�THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
Let me begin by quoting this admir
able warning to those who affirm that
nature could not have evolved life with
out a divine interference : “ In spite of all
present-day scientific generalisations, and
these based on the widest inductions
possible to us, we have no warrant what
ever for the assumption that the possi
bilities of the universe end where our
human apprehension of nature has
reached its ne plus ultra! Does Mr.
Ballard recognise the words ? They are
taken from his own preface to his
Miracles of Unbelief. A theistic phi
losopher, Professor J. Ward, also says:
“ Of the origin of life, if it ever did
originate, we have absolutely no know
ledge. But, on the one hand, there is
no definite limit to the possible com
plexity of mechanical processes, nor any
definite limit on the other, to the possible
simplicity of life.”1 These are timely
warnings to the theist not to build on
gaps in biology. Yet Dr. Horton tells
his trustful congregation that science has
“ not discovered what is that vast bridge
which spans the regions which, to the
eye, appear so near.” And a reviewer in
the Church of England Pulpit says the
gap between the living and the non-living
is “now wider than ever.” If you seek
the authority for these assertions, you are
generally met with a reference to Pro
fessor Lionel Beale. Now, Prof. Beale
is an able scientist and original worker,
and we will examine his claims about
protoplasm in a later chapter. Mean
time, we may recall that it was he who
so pathetically protested in the agony
column of the Times that Haeckel’s as
severations in this chapter were not in
accord with the teaching of science, and
later referred the anxious world to his
little work on Vitality. Now, when we
peruse Vitality we are given to under
stand almost from first page to last that
1 Naturalism and Agnosticism, ii, 262. Pro
fessor Ward, therefore, assumes life was evolved.
The Words, “if it ever did originate,” must be
understood in the idealist sense ; and the em
phatic denial of knowledge is grounded rather
confusedly on the Pasteur experiments.
43
Professor Beale is nearly contra mundum.
“ It must be admitted,” he says (p. v),
“ that few scientific men are quite satis
fied that vital phenomena may not yet
be otherwise explained ”; and we have
already quoted his admission (p. 7) that
“ physicists and chemists ” look forward
to a mechanical explanation of the origin
of life.
And in point of fact one can quote a
string of the ablest authorities against the
claim that vital force has so specific a
character that it could not have been
evolved. Says the theistic (or pantheistic)
evolutionist, Professor Le Conte, one of
Mr. Ballard’s chief authorities: “ Vital
forces are also transmutable into and
derivable from physical and chemical
forces . . . Vital force may now be re
garded as so much force withdrawn from
the general fund of chemical and physi
cal forces ... If vital force falls into the
same category as other natural forces,
there is no reason why living forms
should not fall into the same category in
this regard as other natural forms.”1
Says Professor J. Ward, another of Mr.
Ballard’s authorities : “ The old theory of
a special vital force, according to which
physiological processes were at the most
analogous to—not identical with—•
physical processes, has for the most part
been abandoned as superfluous. Step
by step within the last fifty years the
identity of the two processes has been
so far established that an eminent
physiologist does not hesitate to say
‘that for the future the word vital, as
distinctive of physiological processes,
might be abandoned altogether.’ ” 2 The
“ eminent physiologist ” is Sir J.
Burdon Sanderson, another able author
ity. In the article on zoology in the
Encyclopcedia Britannica, Professor Ray
Lankester says : “ It is the aim or busi1 Evolution and Religious Thought, p. 36.
2 Naturalism and Agnosticism, ii, p. 9. Ward
and Le Conte, while admitting the mechanical
theory as the explanation of “ efficient ” causa
tion, claim the action of a guiding intelligence.
That is a point we have reserved, and it does
not affect the present question.
�44
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
ness of those occupied with biology to
assign living things, in all their variety
of form and activity, to the one set of
forces recognised by the physicist and
the chemist,” On the physical side Sir
A. Rucker, in his presidential speech of
1901, spoke of the recent rise of Neo
Vitalism as merely the result of “some
outstanding difficulties ” in biology, and
he protested that “the action of physical
and chemical forces in living bodies can
never be understood, if at every diffi
culty and at every check in our investi
gations we desist from further attempts
in the belief that the laws of physics
and chemistry have been interfered with
by an incomprehensible vital force.” His
successor in the presidential chair also
protested that science was “ not debarred
from speculating on the mode in which
life may have originated,” and he quoted
this splendid expression from Lord
Kelvin’s (then Sir W. Thomson) presi
dential speech in 1871: “Science is
bound, by the everlasting law of honour,
to face fearlessly every problem which
can fairly be presented to it.
If a
probable solution, consistent with the
ordinary course of nature, can be found,
we must not invoke an act of Creative
Power.” And, finally, when Lord Kelvin
recently declared that he understood
biologists were coming again to entertain
the notion of a specific vital force, he
was, as we shall see (or the reader may
see now in Chap. XI.), emphatically
contradicted by the representative biolo
gists of this country.
The authority of Dr. Haeckel himself
on this point is paramount.
He has
made a life-long study of it. But I have
shown that his conclusion is in accord
with the general scientific attitude to-day,
and that he is not giving us the “ science
of yesterday,” as the dilettanti of the
Pall Mall Gazette express it. I will
only add here a few further considera
tions that tend to make clearer the ques
tion of the primitive origin of life, and
will reserve the discussion of Neo-Vitalism until we come to deal with Lord
Kelvin and his critics.
It is a matter of some importance to
remember that we do not know the nature
of the earliest organisms. Living things
had to proceed very far in their develop
ment before it was possible for their
remains to be fossilised and preserved.
Palaeontology can give us no aid what
ever. It is generally assumed that the
monera and such simple forms—mere
tiny globules of protoplasm—were the
earliest in point of time. That they
must have been the earliest of existing
forms is obvious, but, as Professor Ward
suggests, it is conceivable that there were
many simpler forms of life before the
moneron. We had to wait for the
microscope to discover the protists. We
may make other discoveries yet; or there
may have been earlier forms too un
stable to persist. These are “ may be’s,”
but remember Lord Kelvin’s advice that
we must exhaust the possibilities of
nature before we invoke “ an abnormal
act of Creative Power.” Canon Aubrey
Moore said long ago in connection with
the evolution of species : “ In this pro
cess of evolution there are things which
puzzle us, though it would be quite true
to say there is nothing half so puzzling
as there was, if we had only thought
more about it, in the old theory of
special creation.” .That is peculiarly
applicable to the question of the origin
of life. The notion of a “ creative
act ”—the notion that, at the mere ex
pression of a wish on the part of some
infinite being, particles of “ dead ”
matter scrape themselves together with
out any physical impulse, and, though
they are incompetent to see the design
they are to execute or the end of their
individual movements, build themselves
up into the intricate structure of living
protoplasm—is a perfect world of mys
teries, instead of being an “explana
tion.” We can only have recourse to it
when every conceivable effort has been
made to explain the phenomenon by
the physical impulsion of the atoms by
natural forces and by a very slow and
gradual development; and science, we
saw, is by no means inclined to admit
�THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
that its possibilities have been exhausted
yet.
But if we cannot get any nearer to the
origin on the biological side, it may be
possible to do something on the chemical
side; and from this side, in point of
fact, the “gulf,” as preachers call it
(compare Huxley’s article on Biology in
the Encyclopedia, Britannica}, between
the organic and the inorganic is being
bridged. If you take down one of the
apologetic works of the last generation
(even some of those Mr. Ballard recom
mends to-day), you will find that the
writers lay great stress on the inability of
the chemist to produce artificially certain
compound substances which were then
only made by the living organism. To
day a large number of these are produced
by the chemist in his laboratory. This
branch of chemistry is advancing every
year, and last year was able to announce
the artificial synthesis of so complex an
organic substance as albumen. The
“gulf” is narrowing; it is very far from
being “wider than ever.” Dr. Iverach,
one of those hesitating teachers who are
continually criticising scientific results
with some vague notion of serving
religion, says these chemists only “ac
complish at great cost and labour and
with many appliances what life is doing
easily every moment.” Very true ; but,
pray, how long was nature in fitting up
her laboratory and making her appli
ances ? Possibly millions of years in
making the protoplasm of the first
moneron; certainly many millions of
years in evolving those higher organisms
which the scientist is set to emulate.
One does not see what liberal-minded
and scientific men gain by strewing the
path with little obstacles of this kind.
There are other writers who say che
mistry may produce organic substances
without number, but it cannot produce
an organism. Well, on the theisticevolution hypothesis, which the abler
apologists adopt to-day, it took God
hundreds of thousands, if not millions,
of years to make an amoeba, with all the
resources of nature completely known to
45
him. And man, with his dim knowledge
of natural forces, is to make one in a
few weeks, or years! Science is ad
vancing. Let us be patient.
We are now in a position, then, to
estimate the criticisms that have been
directed against this section of Dr.
Haeckel’s system. There are two aspects
of his position. On the one hand there
is the negative side, that we are not
justified in rushing into the present gap
(such as it is) of scientific knowledge
with a “ vital force ” or a “ creative
power,” which are specifically distinct
from the natural forces we have hitherto
studied; and there is, further, the posi
tive attempt to sketch a theory of the
way in which protoplasm was evolved.
The first part is essential to monism ;
the second is not, and may vary with
the progress of science. Both parts
are scientifically justified. How widely
Haeckel’s first position is shared by men
of science, and how it is forced on us by
the axioms of men so different as Lord
Kelvin and Canon A. L. . Moore, we
have already seen. It is the only logical
attitude. When science assures us that
it has acquired a perfect knowledge of
vital force on the one hand and physical
force on the other, and that the two are
so widely separated that it cannot con
ceive the one to have been evolved from
the other; then there will be time enough
to talk of gaps and gulfs and creative
power. In the meantime logic forbids
us to multiply agencies without need.
There is a plausible kind of critic—
usually a preacher—who says: Well,
Haeckel may enjoy his opinion as long
as he likes, and the agnostic may wait
eternally for the last word of science, but
I find this creator-idea very satisfying,
and you may keep your logic for the
school. That is the practical man—the
man who would think you a fool if you
reasoned like that in business. It must
be remembered that we are not playing
a parlour game with conventional rules.
It is a question of truth or untruth,
reality or unreality. It is a huge asser
tion, this of creative action, It at once
�46
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
brings a new element into our cosmos.
We see that the material universe exists.
We must not recklessly affirm the exist
ence of anything beyond it; or if we do,
we have no guarantee of the truth of our
statements.
Now, until science has
shown that physical force and vital force
are not transmutable, and that no exten
sion of the former, even into the most
elaborate complication, could produce
the latter, you cannot extract from the
appearance of life a particle of evidence
fo,r an interfering cause other than
nature.
But Haeckel does not cease to speak
as a scientific man when he goes on to
offer a positive suggestion as to the
origin of life. Science advances com
monly by projecting hypotheses in
advance of its solid and established
positions, and if ever we are to under
stand the mode of the origin of life it
will be by such a procedure. No living
scientist is better acquainted with the
conditions of the problem than Haeckel,
and it would be preposterous to suppose
that he has not framed a theory con
sistent with the known facts. His theory
is directly grounded on the established
facts of the chemistry of protoplasm.
The only possible justification for the
criticism offered by scientists like Dr.
Horton would be if Haeckel had put it
before us as a sort of photographic
description of the primeval dawn of life.
As Mr. Ballard reminds us, Haeckel
only offers it as “a pure hypothesis,”
consistent with the facts as we know
them, and capable of any modification
new discoveries may entail.
Thus, when we have shaken off this
group of not very enlightened critics,
we see that we have advanced a step
in the evolution of the monistic uni
verse.
We had already followed the
great matter-force reality in its develop
ment as far as the formation of planets
with firm crusts, with heated oceans
and an enveloping atmosphere, and
provided by a shrinking central luminary
with a powerful flood of heat, light,
and electricity. Some time in the pre
Cambrian epoch living things appeared
in the primeval oceans. This was not
a sudden and dramatic entrance on the
stage of time, at which the morning
stars might clap their incandescent
hands ; it was the final issue of a long
course of evolution. It was the matter
force reality slowly groping upwards
through more and more elaborate com
binations of the
formed chemical
elements until a stage was reached
when a substance sufficiently plastic to
exchange elements with the environing
fluid and sufficiently stable to maintain
its integrity was formed. To-day this
substance (living protoplasm) is marked
off by several remarkable properties
from inorganic matter. Professor Beale
talks much of its “ structureless ” cha
racter. In view of the known extreme
complexity of its molecular structure, it
would be a miracle if it did not exhibit
functions widely removed from those of
simpler compounds. But the finding of an
actual divergence to-day is no obstacle
to our entertaining a theory of evolu
tion. No serious scientist questions to
day the evolution of the human body
from that of a lower animal species.
Yet the connecting links have disap
peared. It is a scientific truth that
intermediate forms do tend to disappear.
We see here, then, only another phase
in the unfolding of the cosmic substance,
or nature. Neither scientific evidence
nor logic compels us yet to admit a
fresh reality, a new form of being. We
are still monists. Whether nature has
needed the guidance of intelligence in
this evolution we need not consider
yet. First let us establish the fact that
nature evolves, from the first union of
electrons into an atom to the develop
ment of man, by means of its inherent
forces, and then we will consider
“ whence ” it got these forces and
whether they must have been guided.
Now, given the first tiny globule of
living protoplasm, there is no further gap
for the theologian to defend until we
come to the human mind. For the fifty
million years which extend from the
�THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
Laurentian epoch to the early Pleisto
cene we witness the natural evolution of
the cosmic substance without any plau
sible interference. Naturalists “ have
accepted Darwin’s idea,” Sir W. Turner
tells us in his presidential speech; and
he speaks with respect of Haeckel’s
great share in constructing our ancestral
tree. Huxley said a long time ago that
he “ refused to run the risk of insulting
any sane man by supposing that he
seriously holds such a notion as special
creation.” Canon Aubrey Moore wrote
sixteen years ago that “ every competent
man of science believes in the origin of
species by progressive variations.”1 “All
living nature is of one descent and con
stitutes one relationship,” says Mr.
Newman Smyth. “ Evolution as a law
of derivation of forms from previous
forms ... is not only certain, it is axio
matic,” says Professor Le Conte. “ The
immutability and separate creation of
species . . . are doctrines now no longer
defensible,” says Professor Ward. And
Professor Flower (to whose qualifications
Mr. Ballard devotes ten lines—much
more than Professor Flower ever devoted
to theology) told the Reading Church
Congress twenty years ago (1883) that
the doctrine of the evolution of species
was even then “almost, if not quite,
universal among skilled and thoughtful
naturalists of all countries,” and advised
the clergy not to burn their fingers again
with it.2 We might fill a book with such
quotations.
Happily, there is no longer the need
to do so. Darwin lies in Westminster
Abbey, and episcopal lips utter his name
without a tremor. No one now questions
the fact that the species have been
formed by evolution; but there are still
ecclesiastics who take this occasion to
show that they are of a critical rather
than a credulous temper. They quarrel
with the agencies which science assigns
to the task of the formation of species,
or with the mode in which science con
ceives those agencies to have acted.
1 Science and the Faith, p. 165.
2 Recent Advances in Natural Science.
47
They express an opinion that natural
selection and sexual selection could
not do this or the other; that the
question of the transmission of acquired
characters is very unsettled, and so
forth. Now, it is in itself a healthy sign
of the times that our theologians take an
interest in these scientific questions, and
as scientific men. But the cause of
truth and progress, and the placidity of
scientific workers, would be best con
sulted by keeping these criticisms out
of Christian evidence treatises, with
which, logically, they have 'nothing to
do. Thus Dr. Iverach discusses the
question at great length in his Theism in
the Light ofPresent Science and Philosophy.
He thinks that natural selection may
act on variations, but cannot initiate
them, and cannot show why some
organisms remain unicellular and others
become multicellular.
Biologists do
not, he urges, prove the indefinite ex
pansiveness of species, and do not
explain the special causes which check
expansion. In strict logic this has nothing
to do with “Theism.” If biologists
have not adequately explained the pro
cess of evolution, we must wait until
they have further knowledge.
His
point is, of course, that the triumph of
evolution only means “ to transfer the
cause from a mere external influence
working from without to an immanent
rational principle.”
He is pleading
again for that “ incomprehensible vital
force,” as Sir A. Rucker calls it, which
we have already discussed and will dis
cuss later.
If it is sufficient to admit natural
(physical and chemical) forces in the
first formation of protoplasm, we meet
nothing to turn us aside from these with
any plausibility until we come to con
sciousness, which I will treat in the
next chapter. With that reservation
Haeckel’s mechanical explanation of the
derivation of species is accepted. Pro
fessor Ray Lankester says, in the article
on zoology in the Encyclopedia Britan
nica : “ It was reserved for Charles
Darwin in the year 1859 to place the
�48
THE ORIGIN OF LIFE
whole theory of organic evolution on a
new footing, and by his discovery of a
mechanical cause actually existing and
demonstrable, by which organic evolution
must be brought about, to entirely
change the. attitude in regard to it of
even the most rigid exponents of scientific
method.” The recent letters of Pro
fessor Ray Lankester to the Times,
which I will quote later (Chap. XII.),
show that he has not departed from this
position. Dr. Croll also admits of the
derivation of species: “ At present
[1890] most evolutionists regard the
process as purely mechanical and physi
cal, the results of matter, motion, and
force alone.”1 And Mr. Fiske says:
“The natural selection of physical
variations will go far towards explaining
the characters of all the plants and all
the beasts in the world.” 2
But do not let us lose our way amidst
conflicting authorities. Two objections
are formulated, more or less vaguely,
against this phase of Haeckel’s position ;
or the two objections may be combined
into the general statement that the
mechanical explanation leaves some
aspects of the derivation of species
unaccounted for; and so we must admit,
besides the evolving matter-force reality,
a telic or purposive principle in the
organism and a general controlling in
telligence, or at least the latter (Fiske,
Ward, Le Conte, &c.). The second
opinion does not really conflict with our
present purpose, because it assumes that
this directing intelligence never takes the
place of physical agencies. It always
acts through mechanical causes, so that
science is quite right in expecting to
build up a perfect mechanical scheme of
the development of the world-substance.
With its further contention that this
mechanical scheme points to an initial
designer, we will deal later. It is only
the first opinion—that which postulates
a purposive principle in the organism—
which conflicts with the monistic view
at this stage. And this second opinion
1 The Philosophical Basis of Evolution, p. 2.
2 Through Nature to God, p. 81.
is, frankly, a philosophy or a theology
of gaps. It lodges in the breaches, or
supposed breaches, in our knowledge of
the evolutionary processes, and naively
takes these to be breaches in the cosmic
scheme itself. Remember Mr. Ballard’s
wise injunction that “we have no
warrant whatever for the assumption
that the possibilities of the universe end
where our human apprehension of
nature has reached its ne plus ultra ”—
for the time being, let me venture to
add. Which attitude is the more logical
and scientific, and the best accredited
by experience—this defence of gaps, or
the resolution to admit no aquosities or
vitalities, or other immaterial entities
until science has given a definite and
fully-informed decision ?
Professor Haeckel adopts the latter
attitude, and proceeds to reconstruct the
wonderful paths that nature has followed
in her journey from those ancient
Laurentian waters to the achievements
of man. We have three convergent and
consonant lines of evidence : the docu
ments of palaeontology, or the science of
fossils, the documents of zoology (to
speak of animals only), and the docu
ments of embryology. From them, as
from three synoptic gospels, we retrace
the upward growth of living nature.
The simplest organisms we can definitely
picture to ourselves are simple granules
of protoplasm, or structureless morsels
of an albuminous matter. In time some
of these are formed which live on their
fellow-protists, and the distinction of the
animal from the plant is adumbrated.
Later, some of them develop a nucleus
and form definite cells ; the cells cling
together in colonies and form multi
cellular organisms; these cells are dis
posed in a layer or skin with a central
cavity, and develop fine hair-like pro
cesses by which they can travel through
the water. As the ages advance some
of these beings fold their cell-layer in
wards and form the primitive gut. From
these, probably, the flat worms are
developed, with a primitive nervous
system and reproductive apparatus.
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
Higher worms arise with primitive
vascular and excretory systems, and at
length with a rude kind of breathing
apparatus. At the next stage the rudi
ment of a spinal cord appears, and
continues to develop until the lowest
vertebrates (such as the lampreys) are
seen, with their primitive crania, suctorial
mouths, and advancing ears. Then
comes a great development of fishes
with strong dermal armour and in
creasingly acute organs of sense. _ Am
phibious animals link the fishes with the
reptiles, which soon prowl over the
us
49
earth in huge and terrible forms.
Mammals,
or
warm,
red-blooded
animals, next appear in the Jurassic
strata, and slowly advance through the
forms of marsupials and placentals until
the lowest lemures, in the lower Eocene
strata (computed to be 3,000,000 years
old), bring us within dim and distant
vision of the human form. The man
like apes appear in the Miocene period
(about 850,000 years ago).
Some
600,000 years later the pithecanthropus,
or erect man-ape, is found to herald the
approach of our own race.
Chapter V
THE ASCENT OF MAN
When the third International Zoo
logical Congress met at Leyden in 1895
a Dutch military physician produced two
or three bones that he had discovered in
Java the previous year, which created a
lively sensation amongst the assembled
anthropologists. They were merely the
skull-cap, a femur, and two teeth of some
animal form that had been buried in the
upper Pliocene strata nearly 300,000 years
ago. The modern zoologist can recon
struct a skeleton almost from a single
bone, and the complete outline of the
being to which these scanty remains had
belonged was quickly restored. Science
found itself confronted with the long
sought missing link between man and his
pithecoid ancestors. The powerful form,
standing five feet and a half high when
erect, yet still much bent with the curve
of its prone ancestors : the great cranial
capacity (about 1,000 cubic centimetres),
much greater than that of the largest ape,
yet lower than that of man, and associ
ated with prominent eye-brow ridges and
heavy jaws; in a word, all its features
pointed very emphatically to a stage half
way between man and the earlier species
from which he and the apes had
descended. A loud and long discus
sion followed Dr. Dubois’ address. The
celebrated Dr. Virchow stubbornly op
posed the conclusion of Haeckel and his
colleagues, and was driven from point to
point by his opponents.1 In the end
twelve experts of the Congress gave a
decision on the remains. Three of them
held that they belonged to a member of
a low race of man ; three held that they
1 See the account of Virchow’s pitiful and
transparently prejudiced resistance to evolution
in Buchner’s Last Words on Materialism, p. 97.
At a scientific congress in the preceding year,
one of Virchow’s colleagues observed that his
behaviour was “quite enough to justify us in
paying serious attention no longer to the great
pathologist on this question.” In effect, Vir
chow’s opinions on the matter have died with
him.
�so
the ascent of man
had belonged to a huge man-like ape;
and six were convinced that they be
longed to an intermediate form, which
was rightly called the pithecanthropus
erectus (erect ape-man). The opinion of
the majority has now become the general
opinion in anthropology.
This was a dramatic intervention in
the standing controversy with regard to
the origin of man. Ever since Darwin
had, as Professor Dewar says, “ illumined
the long unsettled horizon of human
thought” with his theory of selection
and descent, anthropologists had foreseen
the extension of the doctrine of evolution
to man. Haeckel and Darwin had soon
effected that extension in theory. Now
the discovery of the pithecanthropus came
as a remarkable crown to the enormous
structure of evidence in its favour. But
a distinction had already been drawn
between the evolution of body and the
evolution of mind. Thinkers like Dr.
Wallace and Dr. Mivart offered no re
sistance, or, indeed, strongly defended,
the doctrine that man had inherited his
bodily form from a lower animal species,
but affected to see a gulf in mental
faculty which forbade us to derive man’s
mind from that of any animal. Since
those days the evidence for the evolution
of the mind has accumulated until it is
at least equivalent to that for the evolu
tion of the body. In the Riddle of the
Universe Professor Haeckel gives a mag
nificent summary of the evidence for
both theses, for the development of man,
mind and body, from an animal ancestor,
through which he is closely related to
the apes. The subject is one that be
longs to the science of which Haeckel is
one of the acknowledged masters. It was
thought that all serious criticism of the
work—all criticism that had the moral and
constructive aim of ensuring the triumph
of truth—would centre upon these first
ten chapters dealing with evolution. The
critics have acted otherwise, and we shall
see that there is little serious resistance
to our extension of the principle of
natural evolution to man, and bringing
him within the unity of the cosmos.
Let us see first, however, what is the
attitude of cultivated thought generally
on the subject. We have seen how the
defenders of gaps have surrendered the
inorganic world to the monist, how a
mere handful remain to defend the
dualistic theory of the origin of life, and
how they have fled before the advance
of the Darwinians. We shall now find
that they are fast deserting this last
breach in the evolutionary scheme. A
quarter of a century ago Tyndall shook
the world with his famous : “ We claim,
and we will wrest from theology, the
whole domain of cosmological theory.”
‘‘ His successors,” said Professor Dewar,
in the same city, last year, “have no
longer any need to repeat those signifi
cant words . . . The claim has been
practically, though often unconsciously,
conceded.”
Canon Aubrey Moore,
whose work Mr. Ballard recommends
us to read, urged his colleagues to
admit the claim nearly twenty years
ago. Wallace’s idea, he said, “has a
strangely unorthodox look.
If, as a
Christian believes, the higher intellect
who used these laws for the creation of
man, was the same God who worked in
and by these same laws in creating the
lower forms of life, Mr. Wallace’s dis
tinction of cause disappears.” Again :
“We have probably as much to learn
about the soul from comparative psychology, a science which as yet scarcely
exists, as we have learned about the
body from comparative biology.”1 He
concludes that the question has nothing
to do with religion. Dr. W. N. Clarke
is no less clear. “The time has come,”
he says, “ when theology should remand
the investigation of the time and manner
of the origin of man to the science or
anthropology with its kindred sciences,
just as it now remands the time and'
manner of the origin of the earth to
astronomy and geology . . . anthropo
logy and its kindred sciences will give
an evolutionary answer.” Again : “ But
though there is no reason against
1 Science and the Faith, pp. 203 and 211.
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
5i
an infirmary in travelling by rail across
admitting it if it is supported by facts,
special creation, whether of the spirit of Switzerland. Observations on the beauty
man or of other new elements of the of the mountains led to a discussion of
advancing order, may come to appear their natural growth, and the nun—little
improbable. The larger the sweep of suspecting his identity—informed him
one great progressive method, the more that she had obtained her sensible and
probable does it become that the method modern views from Haeckel’s Natural
is universal. The idea of unity in God’s History of Creation / We shall see in
the end that the religious opposition to
work and method is an idea that tends,
Haeckel’s teaching—his real teaching—
when once it has been admitted, to
is crumbling year by year. On our pre
extend over the whole field.”1
Dr.
Iverach and Mr. Newman Smyth desert sent question of the evolution of the
the gap, and refer us to science for the human mind, one may gather from this
solution; though, as before, we shall very general agreement of the cultured
find Dr. Iverach raising subsequent and defenders of Christianity that scientific
irrelevant difficulties.
Professor Le and expert opinion can be little short of
Conte and Mr. Fiske, whom we are unanimous. Dr. Wallace, with whose
views we shall deal separately, does in
told to read, are emphatic evolutionists.
Says Le Conte : “ I believe the spirit of deed stand out with a strange obstinacy
man was developed out of the anima or in the world of science—stands out as
conscious principle of animals, and that Virchow so long did in Germany, as
this again was developed out of the Cuvier did in France—but the doctrine
of the evolution of mind is now
lower forms of life-force, and this in its
turn out of the chemical and physical generally accepted by psychologists.
Professor J. Ward says “ the unanimity
forces of nature.” 2 Mr. Fiske sketches
with which this conclusion is now
a theory of natural evolution in his
accepted by biologists of every school
Through Nature to God (p. 94). Dr.
Dallinger allows it is “ not by any means seems to justify Darwin’s confidence a
other than conceivable that science may quarter of a century ago.”1 Another
psychologist, Professor
be able to demonstrate the actual distinguished
Miinsterberg, is equally scornful of those
physical line of man’s origin” (quoted
by Mr. Ballard). Even Mr. Rhondda who still linger in this breach.2 Sir W.
Williams believes “ evolution is com Turner closed his Presidential address
plete from the jelly-fish up to Shake to the British Association in 1900 with a
confident assumption of the general
speare” (p. 26), and says (p. 40):
“When evolution reached man she acceptance of the doctrine3—so far,
seemed not to be content with making indeed, as to evoke from a conservative
writer in the Athenceum a lament that
bodies, and devoted herself to the
development of intelligence and the he “ carried the evolutionary idea to its
logical conclusion with a most uncom
noblest feelings.”
Haeckel is, therefore, once more in promising materialism.” In fact, a cul
tivated and hostile reviewer in the Man
excellent and edifying company. He
chester Guardian dismisses the first and
tells in his latest work (Aus Insulinde)
how he found himself a few years ago
1 Naturalism and
p. 7face to face with the religious director of Ward is speaking ofAgnosticism, ii, doctrineDr.
the complete
of
1 An Outline of Christian Theology, p. 225.
2 Evolution and Religious Thought, p. 313.
And elsewhere he says that until recently “ the
grounds of our belief in immortality were based
largely on a supposed separateness of man from
the brutes—his complete uniqueness in the whole
scheme of nature. This is now no longer
possible” (The Conception of God, p. 75).
development.
2 Psychology and Life, p. 91.
3 I shall quote his words presently to show
that he held not only evolution, but evolution in
the same sense as Haeckel. I shall also quote
similar language from the speech of the President
of the Anthropological section at the Congress of
1901.
�52
THE ASCENT OF MAN
chief part of Haeckel’s book with an
assurance that “ nowadays you cannot
startle even the man in the street by tell
ing him the soul has been continuously
evolved from the souls of unicellular
protists.” For my part, I am not pre
pared to assign Dr. Wallace, or even
Dr. Horton, to a lower level of culture
than that of the man in the street. But
it would be difficult to draw up to-day
even a slender list of capable biologists
or anthropologists who deny the ascent
of man from the rest of the animal
world.
. This very general agreement of scien
tific men, accepted, as it is, by the ablest
theistic writers of the day, has a formid
able support in the facts and the justified
assumptions of science. Once it has
been proved that the whole development
of nature, from the formation of atoms
up to the formation of species, has pro
ceeded in a continuous manner; and
when it is known, as we do know to
day, that this law of natural evolution
applies also to the most elaborate of our
thoughts and institutions, to our art, our
language, and our civilisation; it becomes
clear that there is so strong a presump
tion for the natural evolution of man
that only the most explicit proof of
man’s uniqueness could prevent us from
applying the law to explain his origin.
When we find further that man is akin
to the lower species in a score of ways
which point to derivation, and are quite
unintelligible on any other theory, the
onus of proof lies heavier than ever on
those who resist. We should be scien
tifically and logically justified in assuming
the evolution of man, unless and until
some grave hindrance is pointed out
in. the nature of man’s structure or
spiritual powers. . But, as I said, the
positive evidence is enormous. As far
as structure is concerned we have no
reply to meet.
The proofs which
Haeckel has marshalled so ably in
Chapters II.-V. of the Riddle have
passed unchallenged; nor is there any
serious “answer by anticipation” which
we should be expected to consider. The
analogy of man’s structure and his phy
siological functions with those of other
mammals, the significant course of his
embryological development, and the
atrophied organs and muscles that are
still transmitted from mother to child,
have convinced a stubborn world at
length. . That gap has been deserted.
It is still thought by some that a gulf
remains between the mind of man and
that of the other animals, and that here
at least they still find their treasured in
tervention of an external power in the
orderly development of the universe.
They think that man’s mental powers,
and what he has achieved with those
powers, mark him off too sharply
from the psychology of the lower
animals for us to admit evolution.
Let us see first what distinctions are
alleged in support of this assertion,
and then we may study the force
of. the psychological evidence for evo
lution.
Now, when we turn to the critics of
the Riddle—either explicit critics or
critics “ by anticipation ”—we find we
have to deal with a very meagre group
of. not very clear or well-informed
thinkers. Such phrases as those which
Mr. Blatchford quotes from a sermon
delivered by Dr. Talmage as late as
1898, that the evolution of man is “con
trary to the facts of science,” and that
“natural evolution is not upward but
always downward ’’—only show the kind
of stuff that can be safely delivered
in tabernacles. Dr. Horton, another
preacher, complains that Haeckel “has
not been able to explain the origin of
consciousness,” or “how the rational
life we call spirit has been produced by
the physical ”; which is a complete
ignoring—probably ignorance—of" the
mass of evidence Haeckel has presented,
as we shall see.
Mr. Ballard hides
behind the respectable figure of Dr.
A. R. Wallace, though at other times he
seems indesirous to press the objection.
We are, in fact, left to face a medley of
small points made by the Rev. Rhondda
Williams (who admits the evolution of
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
the mind), Dr. Iverach, and the Rev.
Ambrose Pope.
Mr. Pope, you will remember, holds
that Haeckel collected the basic material
for his system during three “half-day
excursions.”
He himself admits the
sufficiency of evolution until we come
to the human mind, and then says:
“This is psychology, and, like all psy
chologists, Haeckel starts with certain
metaphysical hypotheses.
His hypo
thesis is that mental phenomena are the
effects of physical phenomena.” This,
he says, “ looks like an innocent assump
tion ”—to whom, we are not told—but
it contains the fatal conclusion, and is
“ opposed by nearly every psychologist of
repute in the world.” These men are
“ expert psychologists,” whereas Haeckel
is only making a “ half-day excursion ”
from his own province into “ another
subject entirely.” One really begins to
suspect that it was during “ a half-day
excursion ” that Mr. Pope studied
Haeckel.
A grosser travesty of his
system it would be difficult to conceive.
Serious students will not expect an
analysis of it, but I will briefly point
out its absurdities. This subject is as
much within the province of compara
tive zoology, of which Haeckel is one of
the greatest living masters, as it is in
the field of psychology. It is a border
question. There was, therefore, no ex
cursion.
Indeed, it is not too much
to say that this tracing of the upward
growth of mind has been one of
Haeckel’s most absorbing studies ; and
now his conclusion, based on a long
life of study and research, is to be
flippantly represented as an “assumption”
ignorantly and hastily stolen from a
province “ entirely ” different from his
own—a province, moreover, where we
are assured it did not exist. Further,
of the seven “ psychologists of repute ”
whom Mr. Pope quotes—Windt (Wundt),
Hoffding, Ward, Sully, Stout, Dewy,
and James—six at least admit the evo
lution of mind by purely natural pro
cesses. I have already quoted the ablest
ot them, Professor Ward, as a witness
53
to the unanimity of this conclu
sion.1
With the difficulties alleged by Dr.
Iverach we will not linger. He seems
not to insist on the impossibility of
evolution, but urges that man is actually
separated from the animals by several
marked prerogatives. One of these is
language; but as Dr. Iverach admits this
is “ manifestly a social product ”—that is
to say, evolved—one wonders why it is
adduced at all. Another difference is
in his relation to his environment, which
he can modify and turn to service ; that
also is clearly an acquired or evolved
faculty. Finally, Dr. Iverach urges man’s
distinction in the way of science,
religion, morality, civilisation, and so on.
Experts are agreed, and many theo
logians are with them, that these are all
evolutionary products. They did not
exist 300,000 years ago. Nor does Dr.
Iverach seriously urge them as objections
to the theory of evolution. On the other
hand, Mr. Rhondda Williams, who
“ believes ”—though it is “not proved
that man was evolved, soul and body,
makes a prolonged onslaught on
Haeckel’s position. Before we follow
him into his storm-cloud of rhetoric, let
us make clear what he hopes to gain by
it. He admits the fact of evolution.
He claims, of course, that the evolution
ary process was divinely or pantheistically
guided; a point we discuss later. The
only practical question is : Does he, or
does he not, admit that the agencies at
work in the uplifting of the human
species are the same agencies which we
have hitherto dealt with ? If he does, it
is of no real consequence to us that he
finds Haeckel’s theory of consciousness
or of memory at fault. The main point is
the exclusion of the new kind of force
which was supposed to enter the world
with the human mind. It is important
to remember—he seems to forget it
himself sometimes—that Mr. Williams
does not postulate the entrance of a new
1 In so far as Mr. Pope means that they differ
from Haeckel as to the actual relation of brain
and mind we shall meet the point presently.
�54
THE ASCENT OF MAN
force into the cosmos, but, like Le Conte to “ psychoplasm ” for more “conjuring.”
and Fiske, sees only a further unfolding
Haeckel is represented as “calling in
of the universal spirit. At the bottom
psychoplasm to account for what proto
his quarrel with Haeckel is not about the plasm could not do”—which is false;
evolution of the human soul, or the
psychoplasm being the same thing as
agencies which evolved it, but as to the protoplasm, but in a different relation,
relation of all soul to brain.
just as Dr. Lionel Beale speaks of
He promises us, then, that he is going
“bioplasm”—and then as saying that
to convict the distinguished scientist
“ what springs from it is declared to be
of “jugglery,” and to find him in only a name for what protoplasm does.”
“a perfect muddle,” and so on. The Mr. Williams foists on Haeckel a
first “conjuring trick” is produced by fictitious distinction, and then invites
a little conjuring on the preacher’s his admiring audience to make merry
own part. He cuts in two Haeckel’s over the confusion it involves. Any
reference (p. 94) to “ the transcendental student with a desire to understand,
design of the teleological philosophy of rather than to score rhetorical points,
the schools,” inserts a full-stop after will see at a glance that Haeckel’s termin
“design,” and then asks us to admire ology is perfectly consistent with itself
the stupidity or desperateness of a man and the facts.
Protoplasm is the
who first excludes purpose from the material substratum of all life; but
universe—“in order to shut out God” when it takes on the form of nerve
—and then finds it in the organic world tissue and becomes the base of nerveand calls it “ mechanical teleology.” If,
life (which we all agree to call psychic
moreover, Mr. Williams cannot see that life) it is described as psychoplasm.
the word “design” or “purpose” is Just as Mr. Williams’s procedure would
used only in a figurative sense in the be called clever from the intellectual
second application, he would do well to point of view, but by a different name
re-study the passage. A similar con from the moral standpoint.
fusion is found in his criticism of
As a last instance of this poor
Haeckel’s treatment of consciousness
“jugglery” I will quote one more
and memory. He labours to prove that passage. Haeckel, he says, “speaks of
Haeckel must take the word memory
certain parts of the brain as ‘the real
figuratively in its lower stages—which organs of mental life; they are those
is precisely what Haeckel obviously highest instruments of psychic activity
means. But the justification of apply that produce thought and conscious
ing the word “ memory ” to the function
ness ! ’ Look at the contradiction in
of a cell and to the human faculty lies
that statement. Certain parts of the
in the whole mass of proof Haeckel has brain are said to be at once the instru
accumulated to show that they are the ments and the producers of conscious
same function, and that the one passes
ness 1 Talk about a doctor using
gradually, as the nervous system develops,
instruments if you like, but do not talk
into the other. That is one of the
of the instruments producing the doctor;
most superficial truths of comparative and especially do not speak as if both
statements could be true at the same
psychology.1 Then Mr. Williams turns
time.” This is a bewildering sort of
1 We may compare Mr. Ballard’s eagerness to
point out that, whereas Haeckel grants zis no
souls or wills, he ascribes these even to the cells
and atoms. It is the same curious and wilful
misconstruction. Haeckel maintains that the
force associated with the atom or the cell is the
same fundamentally as that which reveals itself
in our consciousness. That is the logical con
clusion of all his proofs of continuous, natural
development. He is, therefore, logically correct
in speaking of the “soul” of the atom if we
insist on speaking of the “soul” of man. The
sensation and will he attributes to atoms are
obviously figurative, and merely reminders of his
doctrine of the unity of all force or spirit—a
unity which Le Conte and Fiske and even Mr.
Williams (when he is consistent) also admit.
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
criticism.
Organs, instruments, and
producers are clearly used by Haeckel
in much the same sense. None but a
pedant, or a desperate critic, would
abuse us for saying that the stomach
was the instrument and producer of
digestion; certainly no one would
misunderstand us. Thought is not a
substantial entity like a doctor. The
simile is totally misleading.
Happily, Mr. Williams finds we have
arrived at last at the crucial point, and
he says that it is : “ Does the mind use
the brain as an instrument, or does the
brain really produce the mind ? Haeckel’s
position is the latter. But do not sup
pose for a moment that he has any
scientific proof of it.” Anyone who is
acquainted with modern psychology is
aware that neither of the positions Mr.
Williams puts is held by anybody of
consequence nowadays.
Spiritualist
philosophers do not speak of the mind
using the brain; and Haeckel, when
you pay serious attention to all he says,
does not hold that the brain produces
the mind. Matter, he has said from the
beginning, never produces force or spirit.
They are two aspects of one reality, as
Mr. Williams himself holds (p. 8). The
sole question with Haeckel is whether
this force we call the human mind is one
with the force revealed in the animal
mind and also in inorganic nature. That
is naturally the first concern of a monist.
Force, it is a truism in science, varies with
its material substratum. When hydrogen
and oxygen are united the resultant force
has vastly different properties from what
it had before. When water unites with
fresh chemical substances, force takes on
again a wholly new set of properties ;
and the more elaborate the material
compound, the more elaborate the force.
Protoplasm is a most highly elaborate
chemical compound with a most intri
cate molecular structure. It is quite
natural to expect the force-side of it to
be very distinctive and peculiar; so we
agree to connect life with the lower
forces. But when protoplasm becomes
psychoplasm, the complication greatly
55
increases; the force varies in the same
proportion. The psychoplasm or proto
plasm of the higher animal brain ad
vances still further in complexity, and,
moreover, organic structure of the most
intricate kind is added. Hence in the
human brain, on physical principles, we
must expect a manifestation of force
vastly different from all that we find else
where. We find mind.
Haeckel, on
the strength of this very clear and
scientific reasoning, and of all the facts
as to the intimate dependence of mind
on nerve-tissue which he gathers into
several chapters, and all the facts as to
the gradual unfolding of this force we
call mind in exact correspondence to the
growth in complexity of the nervous
system, concludes that he sees no reason
for thinking that the mind-force is
specifically different from any other kind
of force. I will return to this very im
portant point presently. Meantime we
see what there is in Mr. Williams’s state
ment of Haeckel’s position and his
assertion that it is an idle assumption.1
1 I dare not risk fatiguing the reader with a
further analysis of Mr. Williams’s criticisms under
this head. I have treated them at some length,
because this is the chief section of his criticism
of Haeckel, and because, though this is the chief
section of Haeckel’s book, no other critic devotes
more than a paragraph to it. But I will briefly
point out some further instances of Mr. Williams’
peculiar method. He says that, “ as far as science
goes,” we are “quite free” to conceive the rela
tion of mind to brain as that of “ the musician
and his instrument.” That is gravely misleading.
Science permits no such substantial independence
of each other as there is between musician and
organ. The only proper metaphor science would
allow is the relation of music to the instrument;
which is by no means so accommodating to the
dualist. With the petty quibble about “ truth
I will not delay. But on the next page (23) you
will note how Mr. Williams quotes Haeckel’s,
saying that ‘ ‘ man sinks to the level of a placental
mammal ” (which no one questions, in substance),,
and in the next paragraph turns this into the
grotesque doctrine ‘ ‘ that human nature sinks to.
the level of tie lowest placental mammal ” (a,
very lowly beast)! Then he grumbles that
Haeckel is “ inconsistent in his estimates of
man ” ; though he must know that Haeckel only’
belittles man relatively to the old theology.
Then (p. 24), after a pedantic effort to make
Haeckel say the mind of Shakespeare may have:
rivals in the animal world, he credits him with.
Bishops gate Institnta?
�56
THE ASCENT OF MAN
Mr. Williams and his colleagues may
be advised to take to heart the words of
one of the ablest American psycho
logists, Professor Miinsterberg, who is
by no means a materialist. “ The
philosopher,” he says, “ who bases the
hope of immortality on a theory of brain
functions and enjoys the facts which
cannot be physiologically explained,
stands, it seems to me, on the same
ground with the astronomer who seeks
with his telescope for a place in the
universe where no space exists, and
where there would be undisturbed room
for God and eternal bodiless souls.”1
All this criticism is neither more nor less
than an attempt to defend gaps. If Mr.
Williams replies that it is rather an
attempt to point out gaps in Haeckel’s
system, the reply is obvious. The
essence of Haeckel’s system is monistic
or negative. Any positive theories he
may advance as to the relation of brain
to memory or cell to consciousness are
scientific theories, grounded on the best
available evidence, but not final and
unchangeable. If they prove inade
quate, or if fresh facts discountenance
them, they will be modified. But the
essential part of his position remains.
“The whole momentum of our know
ledge of biological continuities,” as
Mr. Newman Smyth says, the whole
momentum of our knowledge of cosmic
processes, indeed, impels us to suppose
the human mind was evolved. Where
are the obstacles to such an assump
tion ?
Where are the specifically
different—not merely very different, but
the opinion that the difference between the mind
of Plato and the animal is “slighter in every
respect than that between the anthropoid ape
and a bird”; whereas Plaeckel had said “be
tween the higher and the lower animal souls,”
which may mean the gorilla and the amoeba.
Then he finds a difference between the animal
and the human embryo in the fact that the
embryo will become a man and ‘1 the highest
animal never will ” ; which is begging the whole
question whether the highest animal has not
actually done so. Such is the farrago of rhetoric
opposed to us as the only and adequate reply to
the most important section of the Riddle.
1 Psychology and Life, p. 91.
different in kind—contents of the
human mind which forbid us to suppose
it ? They are disappearing one by one
as the sciences of comparative psycho
logy and comparative philology and
comparative sociology and comparative
ethics and religion unfold their several
stories. Everything has been evolved.
To talk blandly of the “vast difference ”
between mind and matter is “ an appeal to
the imagination ” and “ an insult to the
understanding,” says Mr. Mallock. He
goes on to censure the dishonest
practice of contrasting the mind of the
highest man with that of the lower
animals. That is not truth-seeking.
The truth-seeker will take the highest
animal intelligence (as discovered by
the observations of Darwin, Romanes,
Lloyd-Morgan, Lubbock, and so many
others) and the lowest human intelli
gence (as seen in the Veddahs or
Hottentots, or as indicated by pre
historic human skulls) and ask himself
whether he finds here a gulf which
evolution could not be supposed to
have bridged in something like 500,000
years. But if animals have the germ,
ask some, why can you not raise one to
a higher level ? Setting aside the actual
results of training, let us ask : Did it,
on the theistic-evolution theory of man’s
origin, take God 300,000 years or more
to raise the highest animal species to the
miserable level man occupied 50,000 or
100,000 years ago ? And do you ask
man to do more than this in a year or
two ?
But, though it is well to remember
that the essence of Haeckel’s position is
the reasoned exclusion of any new force,
we are bound to give serious attention to
the positive evidence he has accumu
lated.
The verbal quibbles of Mr.
Williams have not touched the structure
of evidence given in Chaps. VII.-X.
of the Riddle, and no other critic is in the
field. To resume it briefly, we have a
fourfold gradation of psychic force, or a
fourfold exhibition of the growth of
mind. In the first place, we may arrange
J all known organisms, from the moneron
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
to man, in a scale of mental faculty, or
vital faculty leading up to mental, and we
find a sensibly graduated development
of mind, corresponding rigidly. to the
growth of structure in complexity. In
the second place, we study the growth
of the individual human mind from the
impregnated ovum, and we find the
same gradual formation of nerve and
brain and the. same proportionate
unfolding of consciousness. In the
third place, we learn from palseontology
that living things have been developed
from each other in the order in which
the zoologist arranges his subjects, and
which is confidently anticipated by the
embryologist. In the fourth place, if we
arrange the brains of all known men in
a similar hierarchic scale, we find the
same rigid correspondence of function
and structure, or of mind-action and
brain. Then there are supplementary
and complementary lines of research.
There is the life of the sub-conscious
self, which Professor James says is a
great world we are only just beginning
to explore. Already the explorations
show conscious action to be only a
small area of mental action ; the larger
area is mostly mechanical, and the
conscious area passes gradually into it
and out of it. As Mr. Mallock says:
“ The human mind, like an iceberg
which floats with most of its bulk sub
merged, from its first day to its last, has
more of itself below the level of con
sciousness than ever appears above it.”
There are the facts of double and
abnormal consciousness, the. various
kinds of mental paralysis resulting from
lesion of the brain, the phenomena of
somnambulism and narcotic action and
artificial unconsciousness. There are
the voluminous determinations
of
psycho-physics as to the exact correspon
dence between purely physical and
chemical changes in the brain and
changes in thought or emotion. There
are the zealous investigations of the
modern students of child-life and child
brain, showing the same exact relation
of development. And there are the
57
most recent and largely successful
efforts to localise mental functions in
different parts of the brain.
Now, let us be perfectly clear what
this enormous mass of convergent
evidence really means. When we study
the stomach or the lungs in comparative
zoology, and perceive the close cor
respondence, from the lowest to the
highest forms, of structure and function,
we do not dream of concluding only
that the two have a very close con
nection : we say at once that they are
in the relation of organ and its function :
we say that the digestive force or the
respiratory-force is the same throughout,
and we can at the lowest end of the
scale connect it with ordinary natural
forces. Yet when we have this stupen
dous mass of evidence converging along
a dozen lines to the conclusion that the
mind-force is continuous throughout the
animal kingdom, and is rigidly and
absolutely bound up, as far as every
particle of scientific evidence goes, with
the nerve-structure., and is, at the lower
end, continuous with the ordinary force
of the universe, we are told we must
draw no conclusion whatever. We are
asked to believe that this mass of
scientific evidence is quite consistent
with a belief that some extraneous force,
distinct in kind from the ordinary force
of the cosmos, is “ using ” the nerve
tissue to manifest itself; and that the
highly complex force which must result
from the intricate molecular texture of
the human brain is nowhere discoverable.
On scientific principles “these facts,” as
Mr. Mallock says, “totally destroy the
foundation of the theist’s arguments.”
They teach us that, as he says again,
“each mother who has watched with
pride, as something peculiar and original,
the growth of her child’s mind, from the
days of the cradle to the days of the
first lesson-book, has really been watch
ing, compressed into a few brief years,
i the stupendous process which began in
the darkest abyss of time and connects
our thoughts, like our bodies, with the
primary living substance—whether this
�58
THE ASCENT OF MAN
be wholly identical with what we call
matter or no.”1 If it were not for the
presence amongst us of certain religious
traditions about the nature of man’s
“ soul,” or mind-force, no scientist would
ever hesitate for a moment to draw a
conclusion which would be justified by
every canon of logic and science—the
conclusion that in this vast hierarchy of
facts we see the world-force ascending
upwards until it grows self-conscious in
the human brain. Haeckel’s attitude is
the strictly and purely scientific attitude.
But, it is further urged, this is only a
description of the manner of growth, not
of the causes. “ Thus,” says Professor
Case, “ in presence of the problem which
is the crux of materialism, the origin of
consciousness, he first propounds a
gratuitous hypothesis that everything has
mind, and then gives up the origin of
conscious mind after all.” I have ex
plained in what sense Haeckel attributes
mind to “ everything ”—though a skilled
metaphysician might be expected to see
that. To the second point I reply that
the whole of this evidence is an explana
tion of the origin of mind. The whole
evidence points to the conclusion that
conscious mind is an outgrowth of un
conscious, and that this is the generally
diffused cosmic force. But you cannot
derive the conscious from the uncon
scious, say several critics. The objection
is childish. If we are to explain any
thing, as Sir A. Rucker said, we cannot
explain it in terms of itself: the conscious
must be derived from the unconscious.
And as a fact, Mr. Mallock points out,
you do get consciousness out of the
unconscious every day—in the growth of
the infant; or, as Lloyd Morgan puts it,
in the development of the chicken from
the egg. In any case, the critics plead,
you are only saying how and not why
mind was evolved. Now, in so far as
this is a plea for teleology, we remand it,
1 Religion as a Credible Doctrine, p. 77. The
last phrase is superfluous. No one “wholly
identifies ” the primary living substance with
“ matter.” Matter and force are two aspects of
it, as brain and mind are.
as before. If it is anything more than
this, it is a plea for gaps and breaches in
the mechanical scheme of the universe,
building. fallaciously (as usual) on the
present imperfection of science. Take
the development of the embryo. We
certainly can do little more as yet than
describe its stages. But no one now
doubts it is a mechanical process. The
assumption that some non-mechanical
force was grouping and marshalling the
molecules of protoplasm, according to a
design of which it was itself totally un
conscious, only plunges us in deeper
mysteries than ever. Moreover, the facts
of heredity, the transmission of bodily
marks and features and peculiarities,
point wholly to a mechanical or bodily
action. The development of the mind
on a cosmic scale is still more clearly
mechanical. There is not a single fact
that compels us to go outside of the range
of familiar cosmic forces to seek an
explanation.
I will add one or two illustrations from
recent science to show how its progress
tends more and more to confirm Haec
kel’s position. Sir W. Turner closed his
presidential address to the British Asso
ciation three years ago with these words
(which were duly censured as “ material
ism ”): “ At last man came into exist
ence. His nerve-energy, in addition to
regulating the processes in his economy
which he possesses in common with
animals, was endowed with higher
powers. When translated into psychical
activity, it has enabled him throughout
the ages to progress from the condition
of a rude savage to an advanced stage
of civilisation.” Thus is the very lan
guage of Haeckel used on our supreme
scientific solemnity. The following year
Professor D. J. Cunningham (M.D.,
D.Sc., LL.D., D.C.L., F.R.S.) was the
president of the Anthropological Section
of the Congress, and his presidential
address was devoted to “ the part which
the human brain has played in the evo
lution of man.” The whole speech was
a vindication of the purely mechanical ex
! planation of the rise of man. Instead of
�THE ASCENT OF MAN
seeking the influence of external powers,
Professor Cunningham looks for more
prosaic changes that may have led to the
segregation of man. The reader who is
only accustomed to rhetorical and
spiritualistic treatment of the theme will
learn with a shock that the mere forma
tion of a habit of setting the hands free
for other purposes than locomotion pro
bably had a profound effect on the brain
and intelligence. “ So important is the
part played by the human hand as an
agent of the mind, and so perfectly is
it adjusted with reference to this office,
that there are many who think that the
first great start which man obtained on
the path which has led to his higher
development was given by the setting
of the upper limb free from the duty or
acting as an organ of support and loco
motion.” It hardly needed divine inter
vention or guidance to suggest this
change. The hand-centre in the brain
is located in such a region that its de
velopment must react on the cortex.
Further it is “ the acquisition of speech
which has been a dominant factor in
determining the high development of the
human brain.” The centre for facial
expression is contiguous to that of the
hand, and, as communication began to
grow between the primitive men, much
facial expression would be used, giving a
still further stimulus to the brain. In
fine, not only is language shown by the
philologist to be an evolutionary product,
but the physiologist finds that the dis
tinctive structures in the human brain
(though they may occasionally be fairly
traced in the brain of the anthropoid
ape) which are connected with speech
are the outcome of “a slow evolu
tionary growth.” Thus is science coming
to determine the physiological line of
evolution which gave the first distinction
of brain-power, on which natural selec
tion has fastened so effectively.1
1 Let me quote Professor Cunningham’s con
clusion : “ Assuming that the acquisition of
speech has afforded the chief stimulus to the
general development of the brain, therebygiving it a rank high above any other factor
59
Thus are the mechanical methods of
science bridging the supposed gulf.
There is no longer serious ground for
claiming a unique position for man, and
it is not surprising to find the leading
theologians sounding the retreat once
more. We are, in fact, beginning to
realise that the dualist theory of man
never did afford any “ explanation ” of
anything. The connection of soul and
body was always incomprehensible;1
nor is there the slightest intellectual satis
faction in covering up the whole mystery
of the mind with a label bearing the
word “ spirit.” Psychology has deserted
its old ways and become a science.. The
theologians will do well not to wait until
they are again ignominiously splashed
by the advancing tide of scientific re
search. Their efforts to “ show cause ”
why we should not apply the mechanical
process of evolution (whether divinely
guided or not) to the growth of man
have hopelessly failed.
But before we leave the question it
is necessary to consider for a moment
the question of the liberty of the will.
Here Haeckel’s opponents are content
to appeal to what Emerson calls “the
cowardly doctrine of consequences.”
We shall consider the moral outlook of
a monistic world in a later chapter, but
which has operated in the evolution of man, it
would be wrong to lose sight of the fact that
the first step in this upward movement must have
been taken by the brain itself. Some cerebral
variation—probably trifling and insignificant at
the start, and yet pregnant with the most farreaching possibilities—has in . the stem-form of
man contributed that condition which has
rendered speech possible.
This variation,
strengthened and fostered by natural selection,
has in the end led to the great double result.of
a large brain with wide and extensive associa
tion-areas and articulate speech, the two results
being brought about by the mutual reaction of
the one process on the other.”
1 Compare Professor Herbert’s desperate pre
dicament in his Modern Realism Examined,
which we are urged to read : “We may regard
the material world as real, but if we do we must
deny the existence of all but Creative Intelligence.
... If the material world is as it seems, it
contains no minds” (p. 148). Mr. Mallock
points all this out to Father Maher.very forcibly
in his Religion as a Credible Doctrine.
�6o
THE ASCENT OF MAN
may observe in passing that all this kind
of reasoning is futile and insincere. It
will not make the least practical differ
ence to life whether psychologists do
or do not agree to leave unimpaired the
old formula of “ the liberty of the will.”
A man can control his actions to a great
extent, and will to that extent be re
sponsible for them. On that we have
the witness of consciousness. How this
apparent power of choice arises in a
mechanism like the mind we can hardly
expect to understand until the new
psychology has made some progress.
But the old idea of a “ self-determining
power of the will ” is now “ an unthink
able conception,” as Dr. Croll (who
is on the list of the sound scientists)
emphatically says. Mr. Mallock also
thinks that “every attempt to escape
from the determinism of science by
analysis or by observation is fruitless.”
No sooner do we begin to look closely
into our free-will than we find the sup
posed area of its action shrinking
rapidly : we find ourselves in a perfect
network of determining influences.
Our will is the slave to our desire; we
cannot will what we do not desire, nor
what we desire the least or the less.
Our desire can always be traced to
our circumstances, our education, our
character and temperament. And our
character and
temperament — here
modern science has had a great deal
to say—are determined by heredity and
environment. The attempt to break
through this network with a cry of alarm
about consequences is futile. There
will be no practical consequences of an
evil character; and the consequences
for good of the scientific attack on the
old doctrine, from the days of Robert
Owen down, have been incalculable.
The community is a self-conscious
determinism. Now that it knows how
much heredity and environment have to
do with character and desire, and with
the healthy balancing of desires, it will
take action. The whole of education
and social reform have benefited enor
mously by the overthrow of the old
scholastic notion of the will. Such
“ freedom ” as we now find we have—if
we may still use the word—is not differ
ent in kind from that which a cat or a
dog evinces every day.
We conclude, then, that Haeckel’s
opponents have shown no plausible
reason why evolution should not extend
to the origin of man. The great achieve
ments which distinguish man to-day from
the animal world—art, science, philo
sophy, religion, civilisation, language—•
are known to have been formed, from
very rudimentary beginnings, by a long
process of evolution. At their root, in
the men whose skulls and bones and
rude implements are unearthed to-day,
we find only a somewhat more elaborate
brain, with deeper furrows and more con
volutions, a somewhat higher grade of
intelligence and emotion, than in the
higher animals about us. There is no
gulf, no gap: but there is a period of
some 300,000 years for natural selection
to work in. Comparative anatomy is
beginning to trace the steps—quite
natural, if not at first casual, steps—by
which man ascended in this direction. A
chance variation in the use of the limbs
could, it seems, greatly stimulate the
most important part of the brain. Any
increase of brain-power would prove of
enormous advantage, and would be
“ selected ” and emphasised at once. In
any case the momentum of continuity
and the mass of evidence for actual con
tinuity are enormous. It is no less
scientific than philosophical to see in the
growth of the human mind a further ex
tension of the life-force of the cosmos, a
further embodiment of the great matter
force reality which unfolds itself in the
universe about us and in the wonderful
self-conscious mechanism of the mind.
�THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
Chapter
61
VI
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
Until a few centuries ago a belief in have the same fate. Man now sees in
the immortality of the soul harmonised the universe at large no shadow of
so well with the prevailing conception support for that promise of unending
of the world at large that men were life he has entertained so long.
content with but slender rational proof “What! shall the dateless worlds in dust be
of it. Even then, it is true, the tragedy
blown
Back to the unremembered and unknown,
of death seemed to the eye so final—And this frail Thou—the flame of yesterday—
the curtain seemed to be rung down so
Burn on forlorn, immortal, and unknown ? ”
inexorably on the conscious soul—that
sceptics were not wanting. The Sad
Death is the law of all things. It is
ducees amongst the Hebrews, the true that the great reality that shapes'
Epicureans amongst the Greeks, and itself in a million forms never dies.
the materiarii of early Christian times, That is its first law. But of every
rejected the belief entirely. Some of single embodiment of its restless energy,
the ablest of the mediaeval schoolmen of every individual being that pours out
(such as Duns Scotus) went so far as to of its womb, the path is measured and
deny that any rational proof could be the fate is written.
devised in support of the belief. But ‘
“ Life lives on.
for most men the belief was credible
It is the lives, the lives, the lives, that die.”
enough, and not unwelcome. Immor
So rhe position of the belief in per
tality was a familiar idea to them. Not
only God and the angels had that sonal immortality has changed. The
prerogative, but the very stars they pretty thoughts that supported it, or
looked on night by night were believed accompanied it, in the mind of a Plato
to be of immortal texture. In a world or an Augustine, crumble beneath the
where the immortal outnumbered the burden some would lay on them to-day.
mortal, man could well convince him The cosmic odds are against it. It is
self that the tradition of his own immor now the assumption of a stupendous
privilege on the part of one inhabitant
tality was true.
But the world has grown into a of the universe, who flatters himself he
universe to-day, and from end to end of is exempted from the general law of
it comes only the whisper of death. death. We look up now to no immortal
The stars, that had been regarded as ■i stars for reassurance as we turn sadly
fragments of immortal fire, are known from the truthful face of the dead. The
to be hastening to a sure extinction. angels have retreated far from the ways
The moon stands close to us always of humanity. God has shrunk into an
as a calm prophet of death. Such as it intangible cosmic principle. If belief
is, the corpse of a world, will our earth in immortality is to be anything more
one day be. Such will our sun finally than a despairing trust, it must appeal to
become; and after him, or with him, the presence in man of some unique
the hundred millions of his fellows in power and promise. But we have seen
the firmament. Countless dead worlds that modern science completely dis
already lie on the paths of heaven ; and credits the “ supposed separateness of
the millions that are yet unborn will man from the brutes,” to use the words
�62
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
of Le Conte. The thinking force in him
is the same force that reveals itself in
the industry and ingenuity of the ant or
the affection of the dog. Why shall it
survive the corruption of the brain
in this case, yet in their case die
away as surely as the light dies when
the sun sets ? It would seem that it is
not so much a question of examining
Haeckel’s disproofs, as of asking where
we are to look for the ground of this
stupendous claim.
We shall fully consider both points in
the light of the criticisms passed on
Haeckel’s chapter on immortality and
the works on the subject which are
opposed to him. The actual criticisms
will detain us very little, for an obvious
reason. Haeckel has already destroyed
the ground for any claim of a unique
character of the human mind. We have
seen with how little success his oppo
nents have tried to impede or retard his
progress from point to point of the
evolutionary scheme. The very latest
researches of science confirm his theses.
The ablest Christian apologists yield
their arms and desert the long defended
breaches. We have been borne along
by the flood of scientific evidence,
philosophically considered, as far as the
closing thesis of our last chapter. Man
is the latest and highest embodiment of
the universal matter-force reality.
It
would seem that the acceptance of this
thesis is equivalent to an abandonment
of the belief in immortality, but we shall
see that evolutionists like Fiske, and Le
Conte, and Mr. Newman Smyth still
erect feeble barriers. Meantime, let us
dispose of the less advanced critics;
those who reflect the ideas of the average
church-goer and strive to offer some
defence of them.
There is Dr. Horton, for instance,
who pleads much for “ the naive, but
essentially correct, conceptions of our
ancestors.” Dr. Horton seems to think
it most effective to urge that men who
do not share the belief in God and im I
mortality live on “ bestial levels,” and [
are “ shrunk in soul, warped in mind, i
and degraded in body.” The “intel
lectual strain ” of Haeckel’s scientific
work is kindly said to relieve him
personally from these consequences, but
one gathers that we who are not great
scientists fall under Dr. Horton’s merci
less logic. “Accustom yourselves,” he
says, “ to believe that God and freedom
and immortality are hallucinations;
accustom yourselves to the idea that
this stupendous order of being in which
we live is not a rational order at all, but
the mere fortuitous concourse of atoms
[! ], and by an inevitable logic, as our
anarchist friends see, when you have got
rid of the first lie, which is God, you
quickly get rid of the second lie, which
is righteousness, and then you get rid of
all the other lies, which are love, and
truth, and peace, and joy, and civilisa
tion and progress generally, and poetry,
and life.” We will not stay here to
discuss this insincere rhetoric. It is too
great a libel on Dr. Horton himself, if
we take it seriously, and too insulting to
the intelligence of his readers—who,
one may assume, happen to know a few
agnostics. Nor need -we be detained
with the various criticisms in Light.
The chief of these articles states that
Haeckel relies on “physics ” to disprove
the immortality of the soul; more curi
ously still, a second writer in Light (Jan.
19th, 1901) does rely on physics (the
conservation of energy) to rehabilitate
the belief. The second writer, more
over, completely ignoring Haeckel’s de
liberate words, assures his readers that he
“is terrified at the thought of life beyond
the grave,” and adopts the grotesque
title of “ A Frightened Philosopher.”
We shall not get much light from that
side.
Most of the critics we have already
passed, attempting loyally to defend one
or other of the supposed breaches in the
evolutionary doctrine, so that they make
little resistance here. When, in the
course of the next ten years, they have
fallen back on this last position—probably discovering that, on theological
principles, man must have been evolved
�THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
—they will begin to repeat the argu
ments of Fiske and Le Conte, which we
shall presently consider. But there are
several critics who, setting aside the
question of evolution as not essential to
defend, formulate their objection thus.
Science proves up to the hilt that brain
and mind are correlative. As brain
develops, the mind opens—and in strict
est proportion. Lesion or other affection
of the brain proportionately mars the
mental or emotional life.
Psycho
physical observations show that the in
tensity of brain-action quite corresponds
to the intensity of mind-action. Let us
grant all this. But, they say, all this
throws no light whatever on the question
whether the mind may not outlive the
brain.
“ It’s logic! ” exclaims Mr.
Brierley, contemptuously, when he
comes to this part of Haeckel’s scheme.
Mr. Williams and Dr. Horton, and
others, make the same reply. Indeed,
as accomplished rhetoricians, they offer
Haeckel a pretty figurative way of con
ceiving the relation, which may help his
sluggish imagination and correct his
logic. Mind-action is like the music a
master evokes from the piano or violin.
A musical instrument maker would, like
the psycho-physicist, find an exact cor
respondence between the ailments and
defects of the violin and the disorders of
the music, or between the violence of
the molecules of string and wood and
the intensity and tone of the music.
But—Haeckel has forgotten the player !
Brain and thought are instrument and
music. Where, in Haeckel’s philosophy,
is the instrumentalist?
A very singular omission on the part
of one of the keenest observers in the
world! Let us examine the matter.
We have seen in the preceding chapter
the immense mass of scientific evidence
which goes to show that there is an
exact correspondence between brain
action and soul-life. The correspondence
is just the same in man as in the ape or
the dog. As the shadow varies with the
object which projects it, so does thought
vary with the quality and action of the
63
brain. There is no dispute about this.
No induction is based on a wider and
more varied range of observations.
This correspondence is the same as we
find in the case of the heart and its
function, the stomach and digestion, or
the lungs and respiration. Now, in all
these analogous cases we do not seek an
instrumentalist.
The instrument is
automatic. For its formation we look
back along a process of natural evolution
which stretches over 50,000,000 years.
Whether the evolutionary agencies were
divinely guided or no will be considered
presently, but at all events in the heart
and lungs we have automatic instruments,
and we never dream of looking for a
present instrumentalist. It is the same
with the brain of the dog. When the
dog dies, we do not ask what has become
of the instrumentalist now that the
instrument (brain) is broken and the
music (thought) is silent. We never
dream of there being a third element.
But the mind of man is the same mind
more fully developed.
In a sense there is a third factor—
both in the stomach, the canine life, and
the human life—and this is the only
truth there really is in this very mislead
ing figure of rhetoric. I have already
mentioned a critic who endeavours to
deduce the immortality of the soul from
the conservation of energy, and this
gives us the clue. Critics very stupidly,
or very wilfully, represent Haeckel as
saying that thought is a movement of
the molecules of the brain, just as they
say he resolves all things into matter.
They ignore the fact that he lays as
much, if not more, stress on force than
on matter. He holds, of course, that
there is fundamentally only one reality,
but it is most improper to call that by
the name of one of its attributes (exten
sion). Thus we have, in a sense, three
elements : the instrument, the music, and
the soul or energy associated with the
brain. When Haeckel speaks of thought
as “ a function of the brain,” he means
the living brain—the incomparably intri
cate structure of material elements and
�64
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
the natural forces associated with them,
in which thought arises. We have no
scientific or philosophical ground what
ever for . postulating any further element
to explain the music. Is it scientific to
make an exception of this living brain,
and say it is the only non-automatic organ
in the body ? Does its relation to the
rest of the body give the least support
to the notion ? Is it scientific to say the
living brain is automatic in the whole
animal world, but cannot be so in man
because the music is finer and more diffi
cult ? Does embryology favour the idea ?
Does philosophy step in, and bid us sus
pend the scientific method and admit a
breach in the scientific continuity ?
Probably it is to philosophy they will
appeal. These ideas, Dr. Horton says,
“rest on the region of thought and con
sciousness ” to which Haeckel “ studi
ously closes his eyes.” By all means let
us go to philosophy. Kant will tell us
that these psychological proofs of immor
tality are quite discredited. Schelling
and Hegel and Schopenhauer will give us
the consolation of disappearing in the
world-process. Hume and Mill and Spen
cer will prove more than sceptical. Most
modern philosophers will tell us, as
Miinsterberg does, that “ the philosopher
who bases his hope of immortality on a
theory of brain-functions . . . stands
on the same ground as the astronomer
who seeks with his telescope for a place
in the universe where no space exists,
and where there would be undisturbed
room for God and eternal bodiless souls.”
Certainly one can quote thinkers who
wish mind and brain movements to be
left parallel, with the relation of the two
undetermined. But they advance no
reasons which arrest the application of
scientific method. Here in the mind
life are phenomena that we can examine
from two sides—from without and from
within. This may seem at first to give
a certain uniqueness to the soul-life.
But the only soul-life we can examine
from within is our own individual experi
ence. Every other man’s soul is a
matter of objective examination to us;
and by much of the same evidence which
convinces us of his similar experiences,
we are forced to extend conscious mental
action to the brutes. So the uniqueness
once more disappears. Philosophy will
not help or hinder us. Referring to the
work of Professor Royce, a distinguished
American philosopher and Gifford Lec
turer, Professor Le Conte says: “He
gives up the question of immortality as
insoluble by philosophy. Well—perhaps
it is.” i
Thus (reserving some further philo
sophic arguments for the moment) we
return unembarrassed to our scientific
procedure ; and “ science,” Prof. Miinsterberg says, “ opposes to any doctrine
of individual immortality an unbroken
and impregnable barrier.”2 The rigid
relation determined by psycho-physics,
the rigid relation observed in the evolu
tion of the thinking animal, the rigid
relation that is recorded by pathology
and ethnology, and that lies on the
very surface of life, means something
more than parallelism.
It is easy to
quote Huxley and Tyndall in opposition
to Haeckel’s formula. The one was an
idealist in metaphysics: the other has
said much more in the monistic sense
than he ever said in the agnostic. Pro
ceeding on realistic and scientific lines,
we are driven by the rules of induction
to regard thought as wholly bound up
with brain, and to look for no third
element beyond the matter and force of
which the brain is so intricately con
structed. The mysteries that still linger
about consciousness and memory, just as
about embryonic development, for in
stance, are scientific mysteries. To build
on them would be to repeat the discre
dited old tactics.
If the theories of
them which Haeckel offers are unsatis
factory, wait for better ones. They are
the light bridges of the monistic system,
forecasting the scientific advance. But
that, in whatever way, mind-force is an
evolution of the general cosmic-force,
1 The Conception of God, p. 752 Psychology and Life, p. 85.
�THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
and that it therefore affords no more
promise of immortality in the individual
human mind than it does in the indi
vidual motor-car, is a scientific induction
resting on a mass of evidence and drawn
up in observance of the most rigid
rules.
Let us now consider the arguments
brought forward in favour of the belief
in immortality by 'those who have not
lingered to defend any evolutionary gap,
but who freely admit the evolution of
the human mind. These are the “ replies
by anticipation” which, we are told,
should have withheld Professor Haeckel
from his extreme conclusions. Let us
see how puny and fruitless are the efforts
they make to overleap the “ unbroken
and impregnable barrier ” that Professor
Miinsterberg speaks of. Miinsterberg
himself offers a curious example of the
way modern philosophers, especially
idealist philosophers, lend a nominal
support to religious doctrines, yet are
found to mean something totally different
from what the world at large understands
by those doctrines. As the words I
have quoted show, he is as hostile as
Haeckel to any belief in personal im
mortality. “ Only to a cheap curiosity,”
he says again, “ can it appear desirable
that the inner life, viewed as a series of
psychological facts shall go on and on ”;
and again : “ The claim that the deceased
spirits go on with psychological existence
is a violation of the ethical belief in
immortality.”1 Thus he rejects the only
notion of immortality which is in any
plausible way connected with those
moral consequences that are so much
urged upon us. However, he speaks of
an “ ethical belief in immortality,” and
so is gathered by controversialists into
the imposing category of “scientists
opposed to Haeckel.” The immortality
he promises us is no more consoling
than that offered by Comte or by
Haeckel himself. “Life lives on.” It
is a natural expression of his idealism.
“ For the philosophic mind,” he says,
1 Psychology and Life, p. 280.
65
“ which sees the difference between
reality and psychological transformation,
immortality is certain; for him the denial
of immortality would be even quite
meaningless.
Death is a biological
phenomenon in the world of objects in
time; how then can death reach a reality
which is not an object but an attitude,
and therefore neither in time nor space ? ”
He meets the scientific evidence by
getting rid of the body and death, and
the material world altogether.
Professor W. James, another able
American psychologist whom
Mr.
Ballard and Mr. Williams and several
ecclesiastical papers urge us to read, has
made his profession of faith at the close
of his recent Gifford Lectures, pub
lished under the title of Varieties of
Religious Experience. We shall see that
it does not include a belief in God.
On our present question it is little more
helpful to the Christian. Professor
James is convinced as a spiritist that
there are non-human intelligences in
existence, but he is not yet convinced
that these external intelligences are the
souls of men and women who have
“ passed beyond.” So far he lends no
real support to the doctrine of immor
tality. Professor J. Royce, another
distinguished American thinker whom
the Gifford Trust has invited amongst
us, “givesup the question of immortality
as insoluble by philosophy ”; so
Professor Le Conte assures us.
Mr. Le Conte himself, we saw,
follows this statement with a candid
admission that “perhaps it is.” But
he is not disposed to yield entirely as
yet. Where does so thorough an
evolutionist find ground for ascribing
this unique prerogative to the human
soul ? He professes to find it precisely
in the “evolutionary view of man’s
origin.” If that view of the world
process which we have hitherto sustained
is correct, it follows, he says, that the
human mind-force is “a spark of the
Divine Energy ” and a “ part of God.”
So is the force of a motor car, on his
principles. But, he says, the universal
E
�66
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
spirit (Haeckel’s universal substance on
its force side) has worked its way
upward through the hierarchy of evolu
tion, so that it (or God) “ may have, in
man, something not only to contem
plate, but also to love and to be loved
by ” ; and in view of that project, which
is not supposed to be a temporary pro
ject, man must be immortal.1 The
frailty of the position is obvious. It
assumes that the “ Divine Energy ”
(which is Haeckel’s substance) was
intelligent and had “designs” from the
beginning.
We shall consider the
grounds of this assumption in the
next chapter. But, granting it for the
sake of the argument, we are asked to
conceive this eternally intelligent prin
ciple going through a laborious process of
evolution in order to reach consciousness
in the human mind and admire itself,
and love and be loved by itself, in that
form; for the mind zs God, on these
pantheistic principles. Moreover, sup
posing that we could gather this remark
able project, it contains no promise
whatever of immortality for the in
dividual ; the “ Divine Energy ” is
incarnated in so many forms, and will
be throughout the eternal world-process,
that the perishing of one form or of one
world will hardly diminish its contempla
tion or its admiration. Further, if man
z's God, how comes he to be ignorant of
the project ?
What becomes (theo
retically) of moral distinctions ? But
this fantastic theory bristles with diffi
culties.
Mr. Fiske’s conclusion is very similar
to Professor Le Conte’s, as will be
expected from the similarity of his
premises. The doctrine of evolution,
he says, does not destroy our hope of
immortality. “ Haeckel’s opinion was
never reached through a scientific study
of evolution, and it is nothing but an
echo from the French speculation of the
eighteenth century ” ; and “ he takes his
opinion on such matters ready-made
from Ludwig Buchner, who is simply an
echo of the eighteenth century atheist
La Mettrie.”1 How Fiske could ever
pen such an egregious statement about
either Haeckel or Buchner is one of the
mysteries of religious controversy. After
our review of Haeckel’s arguments it
may very well be ignored. And when
Fiske has come to the end of this petty
and petulant criticism of Haeckel we
find him presenting a conclusion almost
less satisfactory than that of Le Conte.
The substance of his argument is that
“ there is in man a psychic ele
ment identical in nature with that
which is eternal” (p. 170). On the face
of it, that is just what Haeckel says.
Man’s mind-force is a little eddy or
focus in the eternal cosmic force.
There is no ground whatever for assum
ing that as such it will be eternal, and
will not simply sink back into the
eternal stream, like all other temporary
concentrations. The only difference is
that Fiske takes the eternal principle to
be conscious and intelligent from the
first—a point we discuss in the next
chapter.
There remains only the argumentation
of Mr. Newman Smyth in his able but
pathetic attempt to reconstruct Christian
belief on a scientific base.2 The argu
ment itself is an old one, but it is put
with some freshness.
He points out
that the evolutionary process has just
reached an important stage. Evolving
nature has at length passed beyond mere
animal life and reached the threshold of
the spiritual life. Since, then, we dis
cern an upward purpose in evolution, it
is impossible to suppose that the process
will end now that so promising a stage
has been reached. To this we need
only reply that, whether or no “ purpose ”
is discernible in nature (which we shall
deny), this further evolution will take
place in the race taken collectively. This
is so clear that Mr. Smyth makes a des
perate effort to apply his argument to the
individual. He says the “ last word of
organic development is the individual
1 The Conception of God, p. 77-
1 Through Nature to God, p. 144.
2 'Through Science to Faith, p. 265 and foil.
�THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
and his worth,” and he appeals to
“nature’s increasing estimate of indi
viduality in comparison with the species.”
Now, if we take this in the only sense
in which it could be conceived to help a
belief in personal immortality, it is totally
opposed to the scientific evidence. The
only way in which nature seems more
concerned about the individual is in the
perfection which she gives to the indi
viduals of the later species; but this is
absolutely necessary if the species itself
is to advance. In all other respects
nature, as ever, is indifferent to the indi
vidual—or, for the matter of that, if we
take a long enough perspective, to the
species itself.
The
supplementary
consideration
which Mr. Smyth submits is still feebler.
He contends that, though evolution is
generally continuous, it shows what he
calls “critical periods.” He instances
the changes which take place in a drop
of water as it sinks to freezing-point or
rises to the point of evaporation. He
thinks science does not preclude the
possibility of some analogous “ critical
period ” for the human soul. Nay, he
says, getting bolder, biology favours such
a view.
Look how “very slight and
easily changed” is the connection be
tween mind and organism at certain
times—at conception, in sleep, and when
we near death. Biology, he says, shows
that “ the mind does not need for its
birth and its coming to its inheritance a
whole body, a complete brain, a fullyformed organ of sense, or so much as a
single nerve ; a few microscopic threads
of chromatin matter in the egg are
enough.” Hence, if at both ends of
life the bond that links mind and body
can wear so thin, it is conceivable that
it may be dispensed with altogether.
Now, this is a most perverse piece of
reasoning. At conception, and long after
conception, we have no right to say that
the mind is there at all. It appears and
grows with the brain—that is all the
evidence says.
The facts point to a
conclusion diametrically opposed to that
of Mr. Smyth.
They show complete J
67
and slavish dependence. As to heredity,
it is gratuitous to say it is the mind, and
not the body, that inherits. Even Dr.
W. N. Clarke (who, with many modern
theologians, does not believe that the
“soul” is transmitted from parent to
child) says the facts of heredity point to
the mechanical, not the spiritual, theory.
At death we see the same rigid depend
ence of mind on organism, instead of
finding anything like a token of an in
dependent mind. The mind flickers and
goes out—as far as evidence goes—in
exact proportion to the last spluttering
and extinction of the physical life of the
body. At both ends of life, as through
out its course, the correlation of mind
action and brain-action is rigid and ab
solute. And, finally, what Mr. Smyth
unfortunately calls “ critical periods ” in
nature have not the least analogy to the
notion of the mind-force existing apart
from its material substratum. A differ
ent grouping of the water-molecules
naturally gives rise to different properties ;
so does a different grouping of brain
molecules (in fever, under opium, &c.)
give rise to different mental qualities.
When we find a case of the properties
or forces of a substance parting company
from, or changing independently of, the
material substratum, we shall have found
some ground in nature for the conception
of a disembodied soul; but not until
then.
Such are the feeble defences which
are to-day set up by the apologists
who have scientific attainments in the
Christian body. On the strength of
these ethereal speculations we are asked
to resist the weight of the scientific
evidence as to the relation of body and
soul, and to admit for man a privilege
that is unknown from end to end of the
universe. We are asked to believe that
with the aid of a fantastic and desperate
philosophy such as this we can overleap
science’s “unbroken and impregnable
barrier.” We are asked to call Haeckel
“an atrophied soul” and “a child in
spiritual reasoning ” because he will not
abdicate his scientific method and
�68
GOD
procedure in the face of such specula
tions as these. I have not, it is true,
examined the argument for a future
life from the alleged exigencies of the
moral order; but this is little urged
to-day, and we shall see, when we come
to deal with the monistic ethics, that
it rests on a false conception of moral
’trw.1
I have sought, in particular, and
stated with perfect fidelity, the argu
ments of those modern scholars who
are opposed to him as being equally in
formed in science and equally convinced
of evolution. The reader may judge
whether he or they are the more
philosophic, logical, and scientific in
procedure.
Chapter VII
GOD
We now enter upon a new and almost
the final stage of our direct vindication
of monism. If we have succeeded so
far in warding off the objections which
have been urged against Haeckel’s
position, if we have shown that the very
latest scientific research increasingly
confirms his position, it is clear that we
have covered considerable ground. We
have discerned in the stupendous process
of cosmic evolution the growth or the
unfolding of one great reality that lies
across the immeasurable space of the
universe. An illimitable substance, re
vealing itself to us as matter and force
(or spirit), is dimly perceived at the root
1 Neither have I, it will be noted, referred to
the empirical or spiritistic evidence for the per
sistence of mind, which gains increasing favour
to-day. This is not due to any lack of respect
for the distinguished scientists who have admitted
such evidence, or for the sobriety and judgment
of so many about us to-day who receive it. It is
due to the utter futility of discussing evidence of
this kind. It is of such a nature, resting so
largely on delicate moral considerations, that it
must in my opinion be left entirely to personal
examination in the concrete. But that Haeckel
is right in saying the subject is obscured with
much fraud and triviality is admitted, not only
by life-long students like Mr. Podmore, but by
many earnest spiritists.
of this evolution as a simple and homo
geneous medium (prothyl), associated with
an equally homogeneous force. Then the
continuous prothyl, by a process not yet
determined, forms into what are virtually
or really discrete and separate particles
—electrons: the electrons unite to
build atoms of various sizes and
structures, and the rich variety of the
chemical elements is given, the base of
an incalculable number of combinations
and forms of matter. Meantime the
more concentrated (ponderable) elements
gather into cosmic masses under the
influence of the force associated with
them : the force evolving and differen
tiating at equal pace with the matter (with
which it is one in reality). Nebulse
are formed: solar systems grow like
crystals from them: planets take on
solid crusts, with enveloping oceans
and atmospheres. Presently a more
elaborate
combination of material
elements, protoplasm, with—naturally—■
a more elaborate force-side, makes its
appearance, and organic evolution sets
in. The little cellules cling together
and form tissue-animals, which increase
in complexity and organisation and
centralisation until the human frame is
�GOD
produced, the life-force growing more
elaborate with the structure, until it
issues in the remarkable properties of
the human mind.
The tracing of this picture is the ideal
that science set itself a quarter of a
century ago.
The success has been
swift and astounding. We are still, as
Sir A. Riicker said, living in the twilight;
but no man of science now doubts that
what we do see is the real outline of the
universe and its growth. But other and
different cosmic speculations held the
field, and these were ultimately con
nected with the powerful corporations
and the intense emotions of religion.
As science advanced theology began a
long process of adaptation to the new
thought. The ambition of science was
to cover the whole ground with a scheme
of mechanical and orderly explanation,
because the instinct of science felt that
the universe was an orderly and con
tinuous structure. The ambition of the
theologian was to detect and exult over
gaps and breaches in this mechanical
scheme, and introduce his supernatural
agencies by means of them. We have
seen that many of the ablest theistic
apologists of our day (Ward, Smyth, Le
Conte, Fiske, Clarke, &c.)—almost all,
indeed, of those who have scientific
equipment—grant the ability of science,
now or in the near future, to cover “ the
whole cosmological domain ” with its
network of mechanical causation. We
have seen that there is a general dis
avowal of “ a theology of gaps ” or of the
desire to build on the temporary igno
rance of science.
But a few heroic
souls still linger in the familiar trenches,
and we have fully considered what they
have to say. With Smyth, Le Conte,
and Fiske, we have been forced to con
clude that so far we have seen in the
cosmic process the orderly unfolding of
one sole all-diffused matter-force reality,
which we commonly call Nature.
But we have throughout, for the sake
of clearer procedure, reserved one con
sideration that these advanced evolution
ists have been urging on us at every
69
step—that is to say, the claim that the
evolutionary process must have been in
telligently set going and intelligently
directed. Haeckel is quite right, they
say, in claiming that science can give or
adumbrate a mechanical interpretation
of the whole process. Quibbles about
his particular way of conceiving the first
formation of life, or of consciousness,
and so on, are irrelevant and distressing
to the serious thinkers, as is the diver
sion of the issue by discussing his taste,
or his knowledge of history, or his
optimism or pessimism. The important
point is that he has proved his case so
far in its essentials. But he must now
meet this last position of his opponents.
Was this monistic cosmic process con
ceived and designed from the beginning,
and guided throughout, by an intelligent
being, or no ? 1 This is the question of
the hour, and especially of the coming
hour, in apologetics.
As I write a
journal reaches me containing an inter
view with Mr. Ballard. Asked whether
he thinks “the rehabilitation of religion
would come from the scientists,” he
replies: " I think that the theistic basis
of Christianity will have scientific support
more than ever.
Modern science is
pledged to evolution, and Christianity
can only be justified scientifically on
evolutionary lines.” And Professor Le
Conte says: “ Here is the last line of
defence to the supporters of supernatu
ralism in the realm of Nature ... it is
evident that a yielding here implies not
a mere shifting of line, but a change of
base: not a readjustment of details
only, but a reconstruction of Christian
theology.
This, I believe, is indeed
necessary.”2
And we have already
seen passages from Ward and others to
the same effect.
Here is a dramatic simplification of
the controversy, which every thinker
1 Let us note in passing that this is not neces
sarily a question of monism or dualism. Mr. R.
Williams and others expressly state they are
monists, that God is not distinct from Nature.
More about this presently.
2 Evolution and Religiozis Thought, p. 295.
�7o
GOD
will welcome. Theology will, as before,
spread itself over the whole cosmos, but
it will be with the repetition of a single
formula. There will no longer be cease
less quarrels as to whether science can
explain this or that phenomenon with
its natural or mechanical causes. The
new attitude. is that this mechanical
explanation is precisely the work of
science, and if it cannot give a mechani
cal explanation of a thing—say, con
sciousness—to-day, we will wait patiently
till to-morrow.
But, the new theolo
gians say, we want to know in addition
how these mechanical causes came to
co-operate in producing such remarkable
structures.
With this science has
nothing to do, so we close our thirty
years’ war and sign an eternal truce.
Nay, if we look at the matter rightly,
these theologians of the twentieth cen
tury say it is very desirable that science
should complete its mechanical interpre
tation of the cosmos.
An automatic
universe, evolving by inherent forces
from electrons to minds, would be the
most marvellous mechanism ever con
ceived. The mind would be forced to
look for the engineer. Those ancient
theologians who scoffed at Tyndall for
his Belfast address were too hasty; so
were those who caused Huxley to com
pare their dread of the mechanical
scheme to the terror of savages during
an eclipse of the sun; so are those who
beat their wings in vain against Haeckel’s
structure to-day. The materialist will be
the truest auxiliary of the theist. If he
can only show that the universe is the
unfolding of one form of matter and one
force (or one matter-force reality), he
has put before us one of the most
stupendous machines that ever bore the
mark of intelligence.
We are then, it seems, approaching
the psychological moment in the great
drama of the conflict of science and
religion. That I am indicating a true I
tendency will be perfectly clear from the •
preceding chapters.
We have rarely |
found men of ability or of complete i
scientific equipment defending the old !
trenches that barred the advance of the
mechanical system of science. We have
constantly heard impatient denials of a
love for “ gaps.” But before I proceed
to show how Haeckel has met this teleo
logical position, let me quote a few
recent writers, both to show that the
formula is as simple as I said, and that
concentration on this position is the
order of the day.1 I have quoted Pro
fessor Ward’s opinion that, “ if there has
been any interference in the cosmic pro
cess, it must have been before the process
began.’( Dr. Croll, in his Basis of Evolu
tion, distinguishes between producing
(mechanical) and determining (directive)
forces, and tells the theologian of the
future to confine his attention to the
latter : “ The grand, the difficult, though
as yet unanswered, question is this:
What guides the molecule to its proper
position in relation to the end which it
has to serve ? ” With Mr. Newman
Smyth the supreme question is: “ Is
evolution without guidance or with guid
ance ?” Mr. Fiske says: “There is in
every earnest thinker a craving after a
final cause . . . and this craving can no
more be extinguished than our belief in
objective reality.” 2 Dr. Dallinger says
that, if the mechanical philosophy is
true we have “ a more majestic design
than all the thinkers of the past had
ever dreamed.”
And the sermon
preached on the last Association Sun
day at Southport by the Bishop of Ripon
points unmistakably to the same tendency
—even to a pantheistic identification of
God with the forces at work in Nature.
1 There may be a few fond and admiring
souls who are looking out for a reference to Mr.
Ambrose Pope’s third criticism. Briefly, he
finds that Haeckel has got rid of God by a third
“half-day excursion,” in the course of which he
discovered a system of “ physiological monism,”
which, as before, contains the fatal germ under
an innocent exterior. The joke may be given
for what it is worth, but it gets stale. Mr. Pope
goes on to say that when you ask Haeckel about
the substance he puts instead of God, he says he
is not sure whether it exists. Tableau, and
exeunt omnes, of course. We have met this
point in the second chapter.
2 The Idea of God, p. 137.
�7i
GOD
The new teleology flatters itself it
differs very scientifically from the old;
for “ teleology ” had fallen into disrepute
during the period of “ gap ” theology
which followed the break-up of Paleyism.
It is true that there are differences.
Aubrey Moore points out that we now
do not forget the past (the evolution) of
the organ. Dr. Iverach observes that
the new teleologist. does not think so
much of an “ external artificer ” as of an
immanent directive principle, and that
we do not now attempt to deduce scien
tific knowledge from the “ purpose ” of
a thing. These differences, however, do
not alter the essential structure of the
argument, which remains the same as
when Kant rejected it and Paley drove
it to death. We may state it briefly in
abstract form to this effect: Wherever in
Nature we find several agencies co
operating in the production of a certain
result which is orderly or beautiful, we
see the guidance of mind. The under
lying assumption is that the unconscious
forces of the universe will only produce
chaos unless they are guided. Pre-con
ceived design followed up by directive
control, or else a “ fortuitous clash of
atoms,” is the alternative put before us.
The process of evolution taken as a
whole has been so orderly, and had such
marvellous results, that we must admit
the agencies at work in the process were
intelligently guided. To suppose that
this process should chance to culminate
in the appearance of man is said to be
incredible. So throughout the whole
process we find co-operations, adapta
tions, orderly and beautiful operations,
which speak eloquently of design and
control. From the very first step, the
making of the atom, to the last, the
making of man’s brain, we see the finger
of God.
A few extracts and references will
show that this is a correct summary. As
regards the inorganic universe a little
work recently published by the Rev. W.
Profeit well illustrates the argument.
The author starts with the principle that
“every form of being must act according
to its nature,” and goes on to say that
“ the particles of matter have not in them
conscious intelligence, and consequently
have not of themselves the power of
arranging, and so of producing complex
order.”1 He then reviews the teaching
of modern physics at length, pausing at
every few paces, in the familiar manner,
to admire the ways of the Creator.
“ To deal with every particle of matter
in the universe, so as to make it of a
special type, to order all, so that they
might come under types so few and
compact, demanded an amount . of
thought and work of overwhelming
greatness, and could not be the result of
chance.” Chemistry is “crowded with
adjustments, packed with adaptations.”
The moulding of matter into solar
systems of such marvellous symmetry
and adaptability to life occasions another
outburst. In short, theology can easily
run to volumes by repeating “ Great are
thy works” at every forward step in
evolution. Chance is out of the ques
tion. “ Ah ! what foolery it is to deem
that a mighty world has been produced
by chance.” Happily, there are no fools
of that particular type amongst us. But
“necessity” is equally impotent. “No
sane mind ’’—the young theology keeps
up the literary tradition, you see, which
made even Fiske exclaim against “the
intellectual arrogance which the argu
ments of theologians show lurking
beneath their expressions of humility ” 2
—“no sane mind can for a moment
imagine that from the nature of things it
was an eternal necessity that the seventy,
or thereby, different kinds of atoms
should all exist, or be formed in the
numbers and proportions of numbers, in
which they help to form our great system
obeying the orb of day.” So it is to be
either “ fortuitous concourse ” or mind ;
and as the universe is not a chaotic
mess, -we must admit it was presided
over by intelligence from the first.
Dr. Dallinger offers us the same
1 The Creation of Matter, p. 6.
2 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, p. 451.
�72
GOD
dilemma of chance or control, and urges
that to adopt chance “ is surely to trifle
with the fundamental principles of our
reasoning powers.” Rationalists, we
may say in passing, had a concern for
our “ reasoning powers ” in days when
doctors of divinity looked upon them as
mischievous.
Dr. Croll argues in the
same .way. Some principle, he says,
must determine why a natural force
takes direction A instead of direction B
or C. The determination of planetary
orbits is not so much due to gravitation
as to the way in which gravitation acted.
So in the formation of crystals or
organisms. “ Out of the infinite number
of different paths, what is it that directs
the force to select the right path ? ”
Dr. Croll seems to fancy that in this he
has suggested a new idea to the world.
Dr. Iverach, both in Christianity and
Evolution and in Theism, follows the
same line. For the pre-atomic mass to
be made atomic, and to produce the
orderly and periodic system of elements
with their affinities, the forces at work
must have been guided.
The argument does not differ in sub
stance when we pass to the organic
world, but, naturally, the notes of ex
clamation and edifying observations
increase. Biological science, says Dr.
Iverach, “must admit purpose in the
magnificent adjustments it points out.”
Mr. Newman Smyth gives an admirable
sketch of the evolution of the eye, and
pleads that the forces which have
gradually constructed it did not any the
less need guidance and control because
they took millions of years to do it.
Mr. Ballard takes the evolution of the
eye in the foetus, and says that if a child
were to repeat “ that God caused it so
to do, it is utterly beyond the power of
all modern science to contradict.”1
Embryology is, it is true, as yet very
imperfect.
However, other passages
make it clear that, though Mr. Ballard
may here be building on a “gap,” he
generally offers us the usual dilemma,
1 Miracles of Unbelief, p. 51.
design or “fortuitous concourse of
atoms,” and characteristically tells us
the latter is “fatuous.” In fact Mr.
Ballard tells even the agnostic, who
thinks there is not enough evidence
either for or against teleology, that his
hesitation is mere “childish fatuity.”
The Rev. R. Williams—not to neglect
him—tells his weaver-admirers that “the
solar system is really more wonderful
than a loom,” which is obviously de
signed, and that organisms are more
wonderful still. And Dr. W. N. Clarke
says “it is not probable that the most
significant elements in a world came
into it without having been entertained
during the process as character-giving
ideals.” He says Darwinism has modi
fied, but not destroyed, teleology. We
now know that needs, and contrivances
to supply them, “ grow up within the
universe,” but this power of adaptation
must have been given to organisms by a
purposive intelligence.1
The argument, therefore, on which
the fate of theism is finally to be deter
mined is now tolerably clear. Leave
Haeckel free to perfect his mechanical
monism ; when he has completed it, we
shall point out to the astonished pro
fessor that he has been proving the
existence of God all the time. If this
force which he traces for us in its
marvellous ascent through the atom, the
nebula, the cell, and the organism, was
unconscious from the start, and if it has
achieved all this progress in so orderly
and determined a fashion, it must have
been guided. Well, let us see whether
Haeckel is quite so naive and antiquated
as these good people assure the world.
To begin with, the flavour of antiquity
is quite clearly on the other side.
“ Chance ” and “ fortuitous concourse
of atoms ” are phrases which you will
not find outside theological schools for
the last 2,000 years. The early Greeks
used them. The constant reiteration of
them in our time is a grave piece of
insincerity, or else ignorance. How Mr.
1 Outlines of Christian 1'heology, p. 116.
�GOD
Profeit and Mr. Ballard come to use
these phrases in the year of grace 1903
is best known to themselves. Professor
Haeckel deals clearly with the point
(p. 97), and explains—as has been ex
plained innumerable times—the only
sense in which science admits “ chance ”
events. Mr. Profeit rightly indicates a
third alternative, necessity; and Dr.
Dallinger somewhat vaguely suggests it.
Haeckel and his colleagues hold that
the direction which the evolutionary
agencies take is not “ fortuitous ” : that
they never could take but the one
direction which they have actually taken.
A stone has not a dozen possible paths
to travel by when you drop it from your
hand. You do not seek any reason why
it follows direction A instead of direction
B or C. So it is, says the monist, with
all the forces in the universe. Some
day science will be able to trace a set of
forces working for ages at the con
struction of a solar system, or at the
making of an eye. The theist says the
ultimate object must have been foreseen
and the forces must have been guided,
or they would never have worked
steadily in this definite direction. The
monist says that these forces no more
needed guiding than a tramcar does;
there was only one direction possible for
them. Here is a clear issue, and in the
present state of apologetics, an important
one. It is useless to talk, as Fiske does,
of the “ teleological instinct.” “ The
teleological instinct in man,” he says,
“ cannot be suppressed or ignored. The
human soul shrinks from the thought
that it is without kith or kin in all this
wide universe.” This is not only “an
appeal to the imagination ”: it is utterly
opposed to the facts of life. Mr. Fiske
ascribes his own peculiar temperament
to the universe. The matter must be
reasoned out.
Now, it seems clear that if a man
asserts that the forces of the universe are
naturally erratic, and may go in any one
of a dozen directions unless they are
guided, he must show cause for his
Opinion. The man of science has never
73
discovered an erratic force yet. Force
always acts uniformly, always takes the
same direction. If you say this is only
because the natural forces are guided
and controlled, and is not their proper
and inherent nature, the man of science
naturally asks: How do you know ?
Science sees nothing in nature to suggest
such an idea. “ When we consider the
movements of the starry heavens to-day,”
says Mr. Mallock, “instead of feeling
it to be wonderful that they are ab
solutely regular, we should feel it to be
wonderful if they were ever anything
else . . . We realise that order, instead
of being the marvel of the universe, is
the indispensable condition of its
existence—that it is a physical platitude,
not a divine paradox, ”1 That is certainly
the feeling the universe inspires in men
of science. What is the ground for this
notion of the essentially erratic character
of natural forces ? One seeks it quite in
vain. Dr. Croll says : “ Though our
acquaintance with the forces of nature
were absolutely perfect, the question as
to how particles or molecules arrange
themselves into organic forms would
probably still remain as deep a mystery
as ever, unless we knew something more
than force.” 2 But he does not offer us a
single consideration to convince us of
this “ probability.” When Mr. Profeit
tries to bully us into admitting that “ no
sane mind can for a moment imagine
that from the nature of things it was an
eternal necessity that the seventy, or
thereby, different kinds of atoms should
all exist,” we timidly venture to inquire :
Why not ? Force, as far as our ex
perience goes, acts necessarily, inevitably,
infallibly. There could be no science if
it did not.
The only attempt made to escape this
initial difficulty of the teleologist is to
appeal to a number of totally false
analogies. The favourite is that vener
able and imposing sophism, that if you
cast to the ground an infinite (or a finite)
number of letters, they might after
1 Religion as a Credible Doctrine, p. 162.
a The Basis of Evolution, p. 24.
F
�74
GOD
infinite gyrations make a word here and
there, but we should think the man an
enthusiast who expected even a short
sentence, and a fool if he expected
them ever to make a poem. It is
absurd to offer us this as an analogy
to-day; or else it is begging the
whole question.
Take the case of
the eye. Quite certainly this is an
evolutionary product. Forces acting on
matter during millions of years have
evolved it. Each step in the process is
perfectly complete and intelligible in
itself. It is wholly arbitrary to suppose
the eye was in view when protoplasm
was first formed: or when the first
sensitive cells appeared on the surface of
the primitive animal body: or when
pigment-cells were developed at the fore
most part of the body : or when a sensi
tive nerve was formed under the skin;
and so on. Each structure was useful
in its turn ; and on that very account
natural selection fastened on it. It is
sheer imagination to suppose that the
ultimate form was foreseen: and it is sheer
scientific untruth to say the ultimate
form must have been foreseen or else the
earlier structures would be unintelligible.
Here is a plexus of natural forces acting
on matter, without, as far as we can see,
the possibility of their acting otherwise;
only one result was possible. And we
are asked to regard this as curious,
because, in the case of the imaginary
throw of type, natural forces will not lose
their uniform character and act miracu
lously. Finally, it is a colossal petitio
principii, because the question is pre
cisely whether Virgil’s Aeneid or Shake
speare’s Hamlet is not an evolutionary
product.
It seems, then, that the initial diffi
culty of the teleologist is insuperable.
He cannot give us a shadow of proof of
his assertion that natural forces are erra
tic. Haeckel is completely within the
right of science in speaking of the uni
verse as, in Goethe’s phrase, “ ruled by
eternal, iron laws ” (or forces). They
have wrought out a certain result—the
world we form part of. Until some good
reason is shown for thinking they could
have acted otherwise, we see no need for
designer, or guide, or engineer. Let us
put it another way. To an extent the
teleologists are playing on the present im
perfection of science, as Dr. Croll
innocently betrayed. Let us take them
at their word, and suppose science will in
time give a complete mechanical expla
nation of everything, for the good reason
that God, as they say, created a machine
that needed no mending or re-starting.
And let us suppose that he designed the
ultimate form of the cosmos. Is this
design communicated to the unconscious
atoms and their forces ? Clearly not; no
one would say that. Are these forces
which build up and impel the atoms
supernaturally inflected or modulated at
each step ? Again, no one would say
this. The only possible conception of
telic action on a cosmic scale is, when
we descend from grandiose phrases to
practical ideas, that from the start the
matter-force reality was of such a
nature that it would infallibly evolve into
the cosmos we form part of to-day. Any
other conception of “ guidance ” and
“control” is totally unthinkable. And
as a fact theists are settling down to
formulate their position in that way.
The interference, as Ward says, took
place before the process began.
But before we take up this last point
it is necessary to glance at another side
of the question. Haeckel has pointed
out that, not only do we see no ground
for believing in the presence of some
primitive design, but we see very con
siderable reasons for rejecting it. The
world is crowded with features which
forbid us lightly to admit a controlling
supreme intelligence. There is no an
swer to this. “ The fact stands inex
orably before us,” says Mr. Fiske, “ that
a Supreme Will, enlightened by perfect
intelligence and possessed of infinite
power, might differently have fashioned
the universe, though in ways inconceiv
able by us, so that the suffering and the
waste of life which characterise nature’s
process of evolution might have been
�GOD
avoided.”1 As to the waste, Dr. Iverach
ventures to say that “infinite precision
at one point is inconsistent with bad
shooting ”; but the infinite precision is,
we have seen, an assumption, whereas
the bad shooting is ubiquitous. At
every sex-act millions of spermatozoa are
wasted. Others say the glorious final
issue puts all right. But as Mr. Mallock
says, “ Whatever may be God’s future,
there will still remain His past.” Most
ideologists retreat into mystery. One
might unkindly remind them of their
great disinclination to let the monist
leave anything unexplained, but it is
better to say that when all the tangible
evidence is on one side and none on the
other, we do not regard it as a fair
dilemma. Listen to the impression of
a cultured defender of religion after a
study of the evolutionary process in
nature : “ We must divest ourselves of
all foregone conclusions, of;all question
begging reverences, and look the facts
of the universe steadily in the face. If
theists will but do this, what they will
see will astonish them. They will see
that if there is anything at the back of
this vast process with a consciousness
and a purpose in any way resembling our
own—a Being who knows what He
wants and is doing his best to get it—
he is, instead of a holy and all-wise God,
a scatter-brained, semi-powerful, semi
impotent monster. They will recognise
as clearly as they ever did the old familiar
facts which seemed to them evidences of
God’s wisdom, love, and goodness; but
they will find that these facts, when taken
in connection with the others, only sup
ply us with a standard in the nature of
this Being himself by which most of his
acts are exhibited to us as those of a
criminal madman. If he had been blind,
he had not had sin; but if we maintain
that he can see, then his sin remains.
Habitually a bungler as he is, and callous
when not actively cruel, we are forced to
regard him, when he seems to exhibit
benevolence, as, not divinely benevolent,
1 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, p. 462.
75
but merely weak and capricious, like a
boy who fondles a kitten, and the next
moment sets a dog at it. And not only
does his moral character fall from him
bit by bit, but his dignity disappears
also. The orderly processes of the stars
and the larger phenomena of nature are
suggestive of nothing so much as a
wearisome Court ceremonial surrounding
a king who is unable to understand or
to break away from it; whilst the thunder
and whirlwind, which have from time
immemorial been accepted as special
•revelations of his awful power and ma
jesty, suggest, if they suggest anything of
a personal character at all, merely some
blackguardly larrikin kicking up his heels
in the clouds, not perhaps bent on mis
chief, but indifferent to the fact that he
is causing it. . . . A God who could
have been deliberately guilty of them
[the evolutionary processes] would be a
God too absurd, too monstrous, too mad
to be credible.” 1
No one who has studied biological
evolution can fail to recognise these
facts. They make it impossible for us
to see a divine presence and guidance at
least during the process. The only
plausible theory is that God set the
machine going and left it to itself. If
we hold that he is guiding molecules to
“their proper place ” in the construction
of the tiger’s eye, we must hold that he
has some control of the molecules in the
cruelty-centre of the tiger’s brain. A
universe without carnivora is conceivable
enough. Professor Kennedy and others
would divert us from a consideration of
these facts to contemplate the beauty and
sublimity the universe exhibits. But the
beauty of the starry heavens is only the
effect of distance and position; the
beauty of the Bay of Naples could be
1 Mr. W. H. Mallock, Religion as a Credible
Doctrine, p. 177. Mr. Mallock has throughout
life been one of the ablest opponents of agnosti
cism, and he has been nothing less than scornful
of a profession of atheism. Does he not see
how natural and logical atheism seems when one
sweeps aside all theistic proof on the one hand,
and recognises these dark features of the uni
verse on the other ?
Bishopsgate InstitutSi-
�76
*
GOD
shown by science to be a purely acci
dental outcome of the action of natural
agencies. The beauty of the diatoms
that are brought from the lowest depths
of the ocean, the beauty of the radiolaria
that swarm about the coast, and the beauty
of a thousand minute animal structures,
are obviously not designed and purposed
beauties. They were unknown until the
microscope was invented : the polariscope
reveals yet further beauties : the tele
scope yet more. The idea of these
things being designed for our, or for
God’s, entertainment belongs, as Mr.
Mallock says, “ to a pre-scientific age
. . . an age which had realised the
spectacular unity of the cosmos, but had
very imperfectly realised the nature of
its mechanical unity : and which, more
over, had never grasped the fact that the
forces in virtue of which material things
move, such as energy, attraction, repul
sion, and chemical affinity, are as much
a part of the material things themselves,
and as much amenable to scientific ex
periment, as extension, or shape, or mass,
or softness, or hardness, or visibility.”
Once more we are thrown back on the
efficient, mechanical, producing causes.
The point we have reached, then, is
this: the notion that molecules are
“ guided ” to their “ proper position ” by
any other than a mechanical force—'the
notion of “guidance ” or “control ” dur
ing the cosmic process is unproved, is
unthinkable when examined in detail,
and is opposed by an appalling mass of
facts (waste, cruelty, suffering, &c.). It
starts from an assumption—the assump
tion that natural forces are erratic in
action—for which it does not offer any
justification, and which is directly op
posed to scientific experience. It rests
on a number of fallacious analogies and
poetical expressions, on a fallacious
application of the term “ blind ” to
natural forces, and on the as yet imper
fect condition of our scientific knowledge
of the construction of organisms. All
that remains, then, is to examine the
position of the really consistent evolu
tionary theist, who does not build his
belief on the temporary ignorance of the
scientist. This position, to which all
apologists are tending, is that “ the only
interference was before the cosmic pro
cess began ”: that God created a matter
force reality in the beginning of such a
nature that it should evolve spontane
ously into the universe we know and of
which we are a part. This is the ideal
and final position of the apologist.
Science will drive him back pitilessly
decade by decade until he adopts it.
Many of the best-informed apologists
already adopt it.
Let us see, then, where Haeckel and
what remains of his opponents are now.
Both admit that the universe is a
mechanical system, a great machine that
has worked from the first without control,
in virtue of its inherent character. But
the dualists say such a machine must
have been most skilfully designed and
constructed : it is, in Dallinger’s words,
“a more majestic design than all the
thinkers of the past had ever dreamed ”
—and therefore it will commend itself
more and more to theists.
The
position is—it is very important to
understand clearly—that God only
creates any particular content of the
universe—say Plato’s mind—in the
sense that he imparted to the primitive
nebula, or ultimate prothyl, a natural
force to evolve it.
The germ of
everything, the capacity to evolve every
thing, is in the great matter-force
reality.
Now, we have seen in the
third chapter that “ science points to no
beginning.” It is perfectly consistent
with the scientific evidence to say that
the universe is eternal. We saw that
those who attack Haeckel’s ascription of
infinity and eternity 1 to the basic sub
stance show no cause why he should not
proceed candidly on the astronomical
evidence. No better evidence is forth1 Note the remarkably different treatment of
Haeckel and Mr. Spencer. Mr. Spencer’s First
Cause cannot be distinguished from Haeckel’s.
Yet when he speaks of it With capital letters, as
an Infinite and Eternal Power, we hear nothing
but admiration.
�GOD
coming here. Dr. Croll says : “ If any
man should affirm that the succession of
events had no beginning, but has been
in operation from all eternity, it would
be difficult indeed to prove him to be in
the wrong; but, on the other hand, it
would be far more difficult, nay, utterly
impossible, for him to prove his as
sertion.” 1 But, as we saw, the scientific
evidence and the rules of logic and truth
seeking put the burden of proof dis
tinctly on the man who asserts there was
a beginning. Professor Ward attempts
to infer a beginning from the theory of
entropy; but we saw that this is dis
credited by the latest pronouncements of
physicists. “Our experience,” as Pro
fessor Ward says himself elsewhere,
“certainly does not embrace the totality of
things; is, in fact, ridiculously far from
it”; and so entropy is a “ridiculously”
hasty conclusion.
No, there is no proof whatever that
the machine ever began to exist at all.
As far as we can see, it has eternally
possessed those forces and properties
with which we have agreed to credit it,
and has been eternally evolving them.
And, as a fact, apologists are rapidly
moving on to the identification of God
with Nature, which means an abandon
ment of the idea of creation. A curious
symptom falls under my notice as I
write. An editorial article in the Daily
News, the distinguished organ of the
Nonconformist Churches, commenting
on the Bishop of Ripon’s sermon at
Southport, endeavours to reconcile
science and religion.
The laws of
science, it says, reveal the working of
force, and it goes on to ask: •“ What is
that power ? May it not be the syn
thesis of all the various forces and
vitalities which the universe contains;
and may not that synthesis be God ? ”
That is precisely what Haeckel says ; in
fact, in a late German edition of the
Riddle he calls his system “ the purest
monotheism.” So close are we to
“ reunion ” ! Take, again, the Anticipa1 The Basis of Evolution, p. 167.
77
lions of Mr. H. G. Wells. Looking
about on the cultured thought of our
time, he says that before the end of this
century educated men will have ceased
to believe in “ an omniscient mind ”—
“ the last vestige of that barbaric theology
which regarded God as a vigorous but
uncertain old gentleman with a beard
and an inordinate lust for praise and
propitiation ”—and a supreme “ moral
ist ” and prayer ; and will know God
only as “a general atmosphere of im
perfectly apprehended purpose.” Mr.
Rhondda Williams assures us that “it
is not for dualism I am arguing. I
believe in the unity of the world, and a
kind of monism is probably the truest
solution of the riddle ; but I must find
the unity in spirit, not in matter.” That
means, if it means anything, not only a
complete misconception of Haeckel,
but an identification of God with Nature.
Professor Le Conte says : “ God may be
conceived as self-sundering his energy,
and setting over against Himself a part
as Nature. A part of this part, by a
process of evolution, individuates itself
more and more, and finally completes
its individuation and self-activity in the
soul of man. . . . Thus an effluence
from the Divine Person flows downward
through Nature to rise again by evolution
to recognition of, and communion with,
its own source. . . . And the sole
purpose of this progressive individuation
of the Divine Energy by evolution is
finally to have, in man, something not
only to contemplate, but also to love
and be loved by.” 1 In another place
he says : “ The forces of Nature are
naught else than different forms of one
omnipresent Divine energy or will,” and
“ In a word, according to this view,
there is no real efficient force but spirit,
and no real independent existence but
God.”2 We have seen how Mr. Fiske
1 The Conception of God, p. 77. Le Conte
tells us, moreover, that he is almost using the
language of another “theistic” writer, Mr.
Upton, the Hibbert lecturer.
2 Evolution and Religious Thought, p. 301.
He frankly allows that he is here close to the
opinions of Berkeley, and even Swedenborg.
�78
GOD
claims immortality on the ground that
“ there is in man a psychic element
identical in nature with that which is
eternal ” ; and man’s psychic element is,
he allows, an evolutionary outcome of
natural force. Professor Royce, a recent
Gilford lecturer and distinguished Ameri
can thinker, says, when he comes to
distinguish man from God : “ We there
fore need not conceive the eternal
Ethical Individual, however partial he
may be, as in any sense less in the grade
of complication of his activity or in the
multitude of his acts of will than is the
Absolute. ... It may be conceived as
a Part equal to the whole, and finally
united, as such equal, to the Whole
wherein it dwells.”1 Professor W.
James, another Gifford lecturer, rejects
the title of theist altogether, and says
“we must bid a definite good-bye to
dogmatic theology.” The metaphysical
attributes of God (omnipotence, omnis
cience, omnipresence, eternity, &c.)
are, he thinks, “ destitute of all intelligible
significance,” and “ the metaphysical
monster they offer to our mind is an
absolutely worthless invention of the
scholarly mind.”2
We are advancing rapidly. To this
does a knowledge of science bring the
theologian. It is true that some of
these evolutionary theists, like Mr.
Rhondda Williams, regard it as a great
gain that science has destroyed the idea
of a “ transcendent ” God and forced
theology to recognise his “ immanence ”
in nature. This is very misleading.
The “ immanence ” of God in nature
has been consistently taught in Roman
Catholic theology for the last thousand
years. You will not find a single Roman
Catholic theologian who locates God
outside the universe. It is a common
place with them that God is more closely
present in every part of nature than
ether is, for instance. Nor do the great
1 The World and the Individual, vol. ii,
P-451Varieties of Religious Experience, pp. 445-8.
He adds that the “ moral attributes ” are just as
indefensible.
Anglican divines speak differently.
What, then is the new feature ? It is
that these modern apologists have been
driven to deny that there is any real
distinction between God and nature.
They talk of God “ sundering ” himself
and of nature being “ part ” of his sub
stance— which has a strange resemblance
to various ancient and mouldy Oriental
speculations (Brahmanic, Gnostic, and
Manichean)—but the gist of their posi
tion is that God and nature are one.
God is the “ pervading spirit ” and the
“ unifying force ” of the cosmos, or the
“Eternal and Infinite Energy” behind
phenomena, as Sir Henry Thompson
puts it. This is the kind of theology
which generally lies at the back of the
few theistic utterances which our anxious
bishops can wring out of men of science
to-day. It is the last page of a remark
able history. Man’s first idea of deity
was animistic and pantheistic, according
to one school of hierologists. In the
course of ages the shape of God was
disentangled from visible nature and
dramatically set against it. Now God
slowly sinks again into the life of nature.
Great Pan is alive once more.
How does this position compare with
that of Haeckel? We will not be so
rude as to suggest that if Haeckel used
capital letters, like Mr. Spencer, they
would greet him as a brother. Nor, on
the other hand, can we admit that, as
Mr. Williams claims, they find the unity
of the universe in spirit, while Haeckel
bases it on matter. We saw that
Haeckel does nothing of the kind.
Matter and spirit are to him two aspects
of one reality, and the unity of the
cosmos is the unity of that reality.
Spirit-force or energy emerging finally
as human thought-force is admitted by
Haeckel as freely as by Mr. Williams.
An idealist like Ward would very
naturally say that the unity of the world
consists in spirit, but we assume Mr.
Williams admits the existence of matter
and corporeal fellow-creatures. But
there is one further sense in which the
unity of the world could be said to
�GOD
consist in spirit, and in this lies the
final difference between Haeckel and
his critics on these cosmic speculations.
These theistic, or rather pantheistic,
monists hold that the cosmic energy is
essentially and from the beginning, or
from eternity, conscious and intelligent.
Haeckel holds that consciousness only
arises when a certain stage of nerve
formation appears. What evidence do
they offer for this? We may note in
passing that, when the real difference
between Haeckel and those scientific
writers who are the most zealously
pitted against him is so small, it would
have been better for his critics to say so
outright.
The average reader who
wades through the surging flood of
rhetoric will probably learn with aston
ishment that the chief champions of
reasoned Christianity to-day stand so
close to Haeckel’s position that only
one frail npetaphysical bridge divides
them.
Let us examine this last
division.
It is clear, in the first place, that the
evidence for the position of these evolu
tionary theists is not of a scientific
nature. Science does not find intelli
gence in the cosmos until a fairly
advanced stage of animal organisation is
reached. In fact, science finds conscious
ness so completely and rigidly bound
up with nerve-structure that it can only
listen with astonishment to the theory
of a vast consciousness existing apart
from nerve-structure and before it was
developed. One wonders, therefore,
what Mr. Ballard means when he
assured his anxious interviewer that
“the theistic basis of Christianity will
have scientific support more than ever.”
The reasons alleged for postulating this
intelligence at the “ beginning ” of
things are metaphysical. Mr. Rhondda
Williams formulates them more or less
clearly, as they are invented by
Dr. W. N. Clarke and Dr. Ward and
Le Conte. He says first—and this, I
believe, is an original contribution—that
science finds “ law ” in the cosmos ; but
“ law ” is a mental concept: ergo, science
79
finds mind in the cosmos. We will over
look that little weakness, and come to
the plausible arguments he has borrowed.
He says (after Ward) that the universe
must be the work of intelligence
because it is intelligible. The axiom
he rests on is that “ what is intelligible
must either be intelligent or have in
telligence behind it.” Now, on idealist
principles this is quite time; there being
no material world at all, if anything
exists, mind clearly exists. But, apart
from this denial of' a real ’world, the
axiom has no sense whatever; it is
simply an audacious assertion. Dr
Iverach {Theism) uses much the same
argument, and tries to give it a respect
able realistic air. “ A system,” he says,
“ which at this end needs an intelligence
to understand it must have something
to do with intelligence at the other.”
Many other writers say the same. To
show the inanity of the assertion, one
has only to ask Dr. Iverach whether
even a chaotic and disorderly uni
verse would not need “ an intelli
gence to understand it.” If he
means by “ intelligible ” that it is
orderly and systematic, he is simply
begging the whole question, and asking
us to swallow his position in the form of
an axiom, because he cannot prove it.
He says elsewhere {Christianity and
Evolution) that “ if thought has come out
of the universe, if the universe is a uni
verse that can be thought, then thought
has had something to do with it from
the outset.” That is the favourite form
of argument that “you cannot get out of
a sack what is not in it.” It is a longdiscredited fallacy. We have seen how
out of a simple matter and force have
come an immense variety of things.
These things were only implicitly in the
primitive prothyl. Similarly, the evolu
tion of thought only shows that thought
was implicitly in the first cosmic princi
ples. Moreover, consciousness evolves
out of the unconscious every day—in
embryonic development. Mr. Williams
finally urges that a thing which has not
been made by intelligence should be
�8o
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
reversible, and says : “ But it is the
essential principle of science that things
are not reversible; that they must be
where they are, as they are; the order
of nature is the greatest scientific dis
covery.” This is a curious confusion.
It is difficult to see why a thing con
structed by mechanical forces should be
immediately reversible, in any sense
which does not apply to an intelligent
construction; and in the long run the
cosmic process will be reversed, and
begun again, if the scientific evidence
counts for anything.
It is on the strength of such verbiage
and sophistry as this that Haeckel’s
critics assume airs of spiritual superior
ity and spatter his “ godless ” system with
contempt. He has followed up the
scientific evidence with a close fidelity.
He has not forgotten for a moment that
the unseen may be gathered from the
seen by valid reasoning (as he himself
has gathered many truths by inference
from the facts observed); he has not ex
cluded the sober and accredited use of
the speculative imagination. Professor
Henslow has recently, in a letter to the
daily Press, suggested that Rationalists
deny the existence of God because
it does not fall under observation or
experiment.
The
writer
Professor
Henslow quoted has himself repudiated
this interpretation of his words; and
certainly Haeckel has repeatedly en
dorsed the procedure of passing beyond
observation, when the inference is firmly
based on the facts and is logical in form.
Whether he is not justified in rejecting
as unsound these pseudo-metaphysical
arguments we have been considering,
the reader may judge for himself.
Whether his procedure is not more
scientific, more logical, and more philo
sophical than that of his opponents—
whose arguments I have, as far as possi
ble, given in their own words—may now
be determined. And if his procedure
so far is correct, and the objections of
his critics futile, we have established the
bases of monism. We have followed
the great matter-force reality through its
cosmic development until it breaks out
in the glory of the human mind and
emotions. And we have seen no reason
for suspecting the existence of any prin
ciple or agency distinct from it, or for as
cribing to Nature itself any feature that
would justify us in transferring to it the
title or prerogatives of the dying God.
Chapter VIII
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
As we have previously seen, the
cosmic speculations of the Monist find
themselves in antagonism with a set of
cosmic speculations
which
already
occupy, not merely the mind, but the
heart of a large number of people.
Whilst older religions, such as Confucian
ism and, to an extent, Buddhism, have
succeeded in effecting a separation
between ancient cosmological notions
and religion proper, so that the educated
Japanese, for instance, does not confound
theistic controversy with religion, Chris
tianity has retained the belief that man
is immortal, and that the universe has a
supreme controller as essential parts of
its framework.
Naturally, Christian
thinkers who are alert and informed are
�SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
ity ; as if his critics were somehow
beginning to deny this. .Mr. R. J.
unable to understand a pure love of
Campbell, for instance, insists. that
truth or regard for its moral and social
Christianity is “not dogma, but life a
stimulus. However, it is on this
life lived in conscious union with a
chapter of his work that critics have
Divine Person.” But that is somewhat
fastened most eagerly and most ardently.
bewildering. In one phrase dogma is
Now, one cannot but protest in pass
disavowed, and in the next a dogma of an
appallingly metaphysical character is ing against the foolishness of such a
made essential to the definition.
A procedure. All the world knows that
Professor Haeckel is not an expert in
similar inconsistency is found in almost
every other ecclesiastic who speaks of ecclesiastical history. If he felt himself
constrained to warn his readers that he
removing the emphasis from dogma.
had no expert acquaintance with physics,
The two dogmas of God and the future
life are still essential to Christianity, and lest he might innocently induce the
it is precisely these dogmas which uninformed to attach undue weight to
conflict with the monistic conception of his judgment in that department, he
the universe. The few advanced think might in return expect from, them a
ers we have encountered represent, on reasonable sense of the proportion of his
book.
His authority lies chiefly in
the whole, only a small cultured minority.
The great bulk of the faithful cling to zoology. We saw that he built some of
the most important parts of his system
the old ideas in the old form. And it. is
because this mass of conventional belief on the facts of zoology, or biology, and
still exists that preachers find it possible it is to these that the honest critic will
and advisable to bespatter the reputa mainly address himself. We saw how
few of the critics did so. But the book was
tions of fearless and sincere speculators,
who seek to spread their views amongst intended, as he says, to stand in some
measure for the complete system of his
the people.
Such a thinker as Haeckel, who has thought, which he feared he could now
never give to the world. It, therefoie,
found his faith obstructed throughout
life in the supposed interest of Christian contained an expression of his opinion
ity, naturally turns to consider that great on a multitude of topics which it is not
religion when the solid frame of his essential for a Monist, as such, to pass
In this he naturally
monistic system is compacted. He judgment on.
challenges the criticism of his opinions,
finds four dogmas chiefly responsible for
and must meet it. But he had a right
that strong attachment to Christianity,
to expect that his book and his system
which seems to him to prolong the life
of the errors he has criticised and the of thought should be judged essentially
diversion of men’s interest to another by their essential positions; he had a
world. These are, briefly— a belief in the right to expect that no one who would
supernatural character of the Bible; a be likely to read ten pages of such a
book would be so unintelligent as to
belief in the divinity, or . the unique
extend his zoological authority into the
character, of Christ; a belief that there
domain of ecclesiastical history.
is something preterhuman about the
Further, no one who takes the trouble
historical progress and moral power of the
to understand Haeckel’s system of
Christian religion; and a belief in the
infallibility of the Pope. He therefore thought would expect him to devote very
considerable time to an examination of
seeks to discredit those beliefs, in order
to prepare the way for an impartial con the dogmas I have enumerated. If his
previous conclusions are true, these
sideration of the new conception of life
dogmas must be false. That is a logical
which he regards as true and valuable.
At once, of course, he is credited, with and proper attitude. The man who has
some mysterious “ hatred” of Christian ) spent a life in deciphering the message
�82
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
of the cosmos, and has been compelled
characteristic portion of his work. But
to. interpret it in a monistic sense, and it has been sought to bring the full
reject entirely the dogmas of God and
weight of expert, historical scholarship to
immortality, has reached a conclusion bear on this episodic chapter on Chris
which he may apply to Christianity with
as strict and full a right as the historian tianity, and to make any defect dis
who has devoted his life to the direct covered in it the occasion of a bitter
and violent attack on Haeckel’s general
study of it.. Theistic writers are too apt authority. The. trained thinker sweeps
to forget this. When a man has reached
aside such tactics as an impertinence.
a conviction that God is a myth, he is But the untrained and uninformed
neither logically, nor morally expected to
millions of the Churches are assured
ask . himself seriously whether Christ or that. Haeckel’s authority has been dis
Christianity is divine. And it is per credited. They are taught that his
fectly obvious to any one who reads this
rejection of Christian beliefs is traceable
seventeenth chapter of the Riddle that
to a “childish credulity” (Dr. Horton)
this has been Haeckel’s attitude. He
and is supported by “mendacities”
merely skims the surface of a vast his (Mr. Ballard). However, let us examine
torical subject. He abandons the rigid the allegations on which the grossest
method of the earlier part, with its diatribes against Haeckel have been
accumulations of evidence. He hesitates supported.
to “devote a special chapter to the sub
The Achilles of the critics in this
ject,” and refers to other works. He then department is Dr. Loofs, professor of
decides to “ cast a critical glance ” at it, ecclesiastical history at the University of
protesting that it is only the hostility of Halle, and from his Anti-Haeckel we
the Churches which provokes him to do
gather the most formidable censures.1
so. He is mindful of “ the high ethical This work I have already qualified as
value ”. of pure Christianity and “ its
one of the coarsest and most painful
ennobling influence on the history of publications that have issued from a
civilisation.”
But it still clings to modern university. The story of its
beliefs which Haeckel (and large num writing runs thus. Dr. Loofs tells us
bers of its own theologians) believe to
St. Bernard has the same artistic
have no more than a legendary founda exordium to his attack on Abe'lard—
tion, and which nevertheless give it an that he was dragged into the arena by
incalculable influence on the minds of friends and colleagues in Germany. He
millions. Haeckel, therefore, gathers read the seventeenth chapter of the
from a group of German works or trans Riddle, and at once wrote an “ open
lations (all of which are indicated in the letter ” to Dr. Haeckel on the errors it
German edition) points of criticism in contains. This “ open letter ” first saw
regard to these dogmas, and briefly, with the light in the pages of an Evangelical
a light satire that evinces the absence of weekly, Die Christliche Welt, which circu
prolonged research in this department, lates amongst some 5,000 pious readers
fires them at the popular beliefs.
in Germany, and is hardly likely to
These considerations, which will penetrate into a university. Its tone
readily occur to the impartial student, was bitter and scurrilous. However, it
are prompted by the tactics which have was copied by other periodicals, and
been largely employed in the criticism of Haeckel wrote a brief reply in a
the Riddle. What value there is in the scientific and serious review, the editor
attack on its main position we have of the review, Dr. E. Bischoff, supportalready seen. The epithets that have
1 An English translation is promised, but has
been showered on the distinguished
scientist recoil on their authors where not appeared at the time of writing. It will, no
i
doubt, temper the extreme coarseness and ugli
there is question of the essential and ness of the German original.
�SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
ing Haeckel with his expert knowledge
and with a very plain but dignified
comment on Loofs’s procedure. At this
Dr. Loots seems to have lost all sense
of either humour or dignity, and
included these documents with his
reply in the brochure we are about to
examine. Its pages sparkle with in
candescent phrases, which are, more
over, usually italicised. “ Incredible
ignorance,” “crass stupidity,” “pure
folly,” etc., are amongst the milder
of these phrases. When, towards the
close, he looks back on his virulent
italics (or that larger type that serves
for italics in German), he says de
liberately: “It is not the ‘point of
view,’ not the ‘system,’ of Professor
Haeckel, but his scientific honour, that I
have attacked; and I have done it so
unmistakably that any court will convict
me of libelling my colleague of Jena, if
I cannot support my charges.” In a
word, he tells us (3rd edit., p. 52) that
the Press has ignored his precious
diatribe, and that a libel action.(though
he declines to “ provoke ” it) will bring
his grievance before the public. Such
is the famous rejoinder to Haeckel
which our ecclesiastical journals have
praised so highly.
After all this the reader will expect to
find that Haeckel has been convicted of
one of the most remarkable series of
controversial frauds and literary delin
quencies that a university professor to
say nothing of a man with four gold
medals and seventy honorary diplomas —ever stooped to. The reality would be
amusing if it were not for the vulgarity
and coarseness in which it is enveloped.
Leaving aside the pedantic discussion of
minor points (the date of the Council of
Nicaea, the authorship of the Synodicon,
and so on), and granting that Dr. .Loofs
abundantly proves that Haeckel is not
an expert in ecclesiastical history (if
there be any who did not know it),
we find that the two chief points are the
criticism of Haeckel’s observations on
the formation of the canon and on the
birth of Christ,
83
Haeckel, it will be remembered, states
that the canonical gospels were, selected
from the apocryphal by a miraculous
leap on to the altar at the Council of
Nicaea. At this the indignation of our
professor of church-history flashes forth.
Mr. J. Brierley alludes to this, saying :
“ He gives the story as though it were
the accepted Christian account of the
admission of the four gospels to the
canon. It is difficult to chaiacterise this
statement.” Well, it is foitunate that
some rationalistic Dr. Loofs does not have
to characterise this statement. Haeckel
does exactly the reverse of this. He
gives the “ leap ” story as a correction of
the “ accepted Christian account.” “ We
now know,” he says, in introducing his
version. Further, he gives the state
ment candidly on the authority of the
Synodicon j though he should have said
this was only edited by Pappus. His
own honesty in the matter is perfectly
transparent ; if his acquaintance with
ecclesiastical history is very far from
complete. The story in the Synodicon
is not to be taken seriously. The canon
of the gospels was substantially settled
long before the Council of Nicaea. It
is true that Dr. Loofs is himself accused
of error by Dr. Bischoff for stating that
the Nicene Council did not discuss the
canon, but we will keep to the main
issue. The story taken from the
Synodicon is not worthy of consideration
as an account of the forming of the
canon.
The reader will remember Haeckels
pointed warning in his preface that, not
only are his conclusions on all matters
“subjective and only partly.corrrect,
but his book contains “studies of un
equal value,” and his knowledge, of some
branches of science is “ defective.
In
the face of those repeated expressions it
is ludicrous to suppose that Haeckel
wished to employ his great authority as.a
man of science to enforce opinions in
ecclesiastical history. Here is, on the
face of it, a department of thought where
no one will suspect him to have spent
much of his valuable time, and the di§-
�84
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
covery of defects in this chapter was value of the Gospels.
He will learn
almost a matter of course. He has
with surprise that Dr. Loofs by no
acknowledged those defects, and has in
means shares the conventional rever
serted in the cheap German edition of his
ence for the New Testament.
The
work a notification that the authority he synoptic Gospels were written, he
followed on this and the following thinks, between the years 65 and 100,
question was unsound. That authority and the Gospel of “ St. John ” before
was an English writer, who had had a
I?5;
That is the general opinion of
theological training, and whose work had
biblical scholars to-day; but it is by no
been translated into German. Haeckel
means the general opinion of the readers
had been, wholly misinformed as to his
of Die Christliche Welt, or of religious
standing in this country, and thus had people in this country. What is more
been betrayed into a reliance on what he important, Dr. Loofs, as we shall pre
understood to be his expert knowledge.
sently see, rejects as worthless, if not
In the case of a writer who claimed dishonest, interpolations some of the
infallibility, or at least a uniform weight,
most treasured and familiar passages of
for the whole of his book, such a defect the New Testament. Let us remember
would be more or less serious. Whether what is really at stake in these con
it was in point of fact one-tenth as
troversies.
serious as some of the procedure of his
To come, then, to the cardinal offence
critics which we have reviewed, whether of Haeckel’s book—we will take a few
it is a matter for violent discussion at all,
detailed criticisms later—we find it in
and not one that might have been the statement that Jesus was the son
pointed out by a colleague without loss of a Greek officer of the name of
of dignity—I leave it to the reader to Pandera. Now let us approach the sub
say. The section in which the passage ject with some sense of proportion. For
occurs shows a fair average acquaintance
Haeckel it is (legitimately) a foregone
with its subject, but it is clear from the
conclusion that Jesus was a human being,
authorities explicitly mentioned in it
born in a normal manner. The conclusions
(Strauss, Feuerbach, Baur, and Renan)
he has already so laboriously reached
that it was written, or prepared, years
compel him to assume this. If there is
ago. Any modern expert would find it no God, Jesus was a man—a “noble
defective. Whether this defect is a prophet and enthusiast, so full of the
fitting.ground for Dr/Loofs’s structure of love of humanity,” Haeckel generously
rhetoric and scholarship may be called
describes him.. This is a standpoint
into question. But whether it is either which Haeckel is by no means alone in
sensible or honourable to seek to dis taking to-day.
The vast majority of
credit Haeckel’s earlier positions in
the cultured writers of every civilised
science, which we have reviewed, by a
country share it with him. It is very
microscopic examination of such a
largely held within the ranks of the
section as this, cannot long remain un Christian clergy themselves. Mr. Rhondda
decided.
Williams preaches it openly. The posi
Before we pass to a consideration of tion of our own Broad Church theolo
the second chief charge, there is one
gians is known.
Even Dr. Loofs—
more point that it is highly expedient
remember well—holds as frankly as
to make clear.
The average inexpert
Haeckel does the natural human parent
reader, about whom our ecclesiastical
age of Jesus, and has formulated his
writers have suddenly grown so con opinion, as the opinion of the average
cerned, will be apt to suppose that this
cultured theologian, in a German theo
deadly attack by the spirited theologian
logical encyclopaedia. He angrily resents
of Halle is prompted by a devotion
the imputation that he believes in the
to the current belief in the unique
virgin-birth, and says no historian of
�SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
dogma can entertain it.
He affirms
that the birth-story in Matthew and
Luke is a late interpolation in the
Gospel, and is quite discredited.
What then is the great difference
between the two ? It is that Loofs
awards the paternity of Christ to Joseph,
and Haeckel assigns it to the Greek
officer of a Roman legion. Our average
Christian neighbour will probably feel
that in substance it is a case of the devil
and the deep sea.
Further, it is easy to see in what
frame of mind a scientist like Haeckel
would approach such a matter. . The
birth of a Saviour-God from a virgin is a
legend that we find in all kinds of
religions anterior to Christianity.
We
know that in all these cases the prophet,
or god—supposing his historical reality
—was awarded this distinction by later
admirers to enhance the repute of his
divinity. When, therefore, Haeckel is
commenting on the dogma of the Im
maculate Conception,1 he turns aside for
a moment to discuss the question of
paternity. Not attaching an overwhelm
ing importance to the question, Who was
Christ’s father? he does not make a pro
found inquiry into it. But in one of his
authorities—the English writer whom I
have mentioned—he finds the curious
statement that the father was a Greek
officer, and it seems to harmonise with
the other statements. He finds that the
Gospels emphatically exclude the notion
that Mary was at that time married to
Joseph, or that Joseph was the father.
He finds, too, that as a matter of history
these miraculously born children were
generally illegitimate. In fact, the intro
duction of a Greek strain would help not
1 Which he misunderstands. The dogma of
the Immaculate Conception does not refer to the
conception of Christ by Maty, but to the concep
tion of Mary by her mother. Dr. Horton is
astonished at Haeckel’s ignorance. For my part
I am astonished at Dr. Horton’s knowledge.
The version Haeckel follows is quite the ordinary
non-Catholic version of the dogma. You will
find it even in Balzac (£<z messe de PathPe}.
Nay, even Mr. Ballard, B.D., thinks it is
correct {Miracles of Unbelief, p. 348).
85
a little to interpret the scriptural figure
of Christ, if it is taken to be historical.
It has long been an argument for the
divinity of Christ that the figure de
picted in the New Testament is so very
un-Hebraic in many of its features. We
who know the composition of the Gospels
understand this Greek element, But the
supposition that Christ had a Greek
father is not a little attractive in the cir
cumstances. When, therefore, Haeckel
learns from his authority, or supposed
authority, that in one of the apocryphal
gospels (the Gospel of Nicodemus)
Jesus was said to be the illegitimate son
of a Greek officer, and that this is con
firmed by the Sepher Toldoth Jeschua, he
at once embraces it as the most plausible
explanation of the “ high and noble
personality” of the Galilean.
These
apocryphal Gospels are, he tells the
reader, no less and no more reliable in
themselves than the canonical Gospels,
but this version of the birth seems to
accord best with the general situation.
Now this is a perfectly honest pro
cedure for a man who makes no pre
tension to expert knowledge or research.
Haeckel has again been misled by his
authority, it is true. The sentence, he
quotes from “ an apocryphal gospel ” is
not found in any of those books in that
form. The Gospel of Nicodemus merely
states that the Jews declared Christ to be
illegitimate. The Sepher ToldothJeschua,
which gives the story, is an early
mediaeval Jewish work of no authority.
The story can, indeed, be traced back
well into the second century (to about
130 a.d.), since Origen gives it as being
told to his opponent Celsus by the Jews,
in his Contra Celsum (I, 32); but this
was unknown at the time to Haeckel
and his authority. Further, it is mis
leading to say “the official theologian”
burks the story. It is perfectly true that
the Sepher Toldoth Jeschua is little com
mented on, but it is a worthless docu
ment; and Strauss, the author of the
Zz/e ofJesus, had contemptuously rejected
the story. These are undoubted errors
on Haeckel’s part. But, after all, the
�86
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
radical error is that he took a superficial
and unreliable author as his authority.
To have been misinformed as to the
weight and qualifications of a foreign
writer on a subject completely outside
his own territory, and to have neglected
to verify his information, is the full
extent of Haeckel’s delinquency. Dr.
Horton, who gives Vogt and Buchner as
shining lights in the spiritualist firma
ment, pompously tells us this was
“childish credulity.” Mr. Ballard, who
deals in such a remarkable fashion with
Haeckel’s observations on the pyknotic
theory and abiogenesis and determinism,
says he is “ ashamed to put such men
dacities into print,” and that if Haeckel
is not ashamed of himself he has not
developed “ an elementary degree of
morality.” Dr. Loofs calmly pours out
such a stream of invective that he thinks
it well to remind Haeckel of the text and
section of the German law which covers
the case ! He is afraid, he says, that
Haeckel will not be stung into dragging
the matter into court, and so he
continues to the end to dredge up
the. strong sediment of the German
dictionary.
A more ludicrous situation it would be
difficult to conceive. Haeckel frankly
states that in his opinion this is a subject
on which none of the evidence is worth
much. But he finds one legend more
plausible than that given in the canonical
gospels, and he points out that it seems
to be the most plausible. There is not
the slightest deception, as he openly
relies on the intrinsic plausibility of the
story, and openly states the immediate
and the ultimate sources from which he
takes it. No doubt he should have
examined more closely into the subject,
and should have looked into more
weighty and more recent literature. He
would then have found that the pas
sages which deny Joseph’s paternity
“belong to the least credible of New
Testament traditions,” as Dr. Loofs
says.1 But that his opponents should
1 American Journal oj Theology, July, 1899.
attack him with this virulence and
viciousness on that account is one of
the most disgraceful episodes of this
dreary controversy.
. The other defects which Dr. Loofs
discovers with his microscopic eye in
this chapter of the Riddle are mostly
pedantic rectifications of minor state
ments, or corrections with which only an
expert would concern himself, and as to
which opinions sometimes differ. Many
of them are quite paralleled by Dr.
Bischoff’s examination of Loofs’s own
statements. The year of the Council of
Nicfca and the number of bishops
present are incorrect; the number of
apocryphal gospels and of the genuine
Pauline epistles is not according to the
latest vagary of the critics; the statistics
of religion are not up to date; the
Immaculate Conception and Immaculate
Oath are improperly described. These
are the other points of the indictment.
The reader may judge for himself
whether there is anything more than a
lack of expert knowledge in these things;
and whether Haeckel ever claimed, and
did not rather disclaim from the outset,
such expert knowledge.
But we now turn to another aspect of
the matter. Haeckel, I said, set out to
discredit four dogmas which he found
hindering the progress of scientific know
ledge amongst the people at large. The
serious reader, impatient of all this dust
throwing and mud-throwing, will ask
how far the substance of Haeckel’s
attack on these dogmas survives this
scrutiny, and how far it is supported by
sound historical research. The dogma
of the infallibility of the Pope does not
appeal to the sympathies of these
Protestant critics, so that Haeckel’s
attack on the papacy is allowed to stand.
Let us consider his position with regard
to the other points—the uniqueness of
the Bible, of Christ, and of the history
of Christianity. Whether Haeckel is
infallible or not is hardly a subject for
prolonged discussion, provided his
“ scientific honour ” and “ scientific
conscience ” are not involved in the
�SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
manner that Dr. Loots would have the
readers of Die Chnstliche Welt to be
lieve. The serious question is : Can we
sustain his attack on these dogmas,
apart from the incidental errors into
which his unfortunate reliance . on
“ Saladin ” has betrayed him ? This is
a study in Church History, in the full
sense in which that science is under
stood to-day.1 We shall see that the
substance of Haeckel’s position is com
pletely supported by our present know
ledge of the subject.
In the first place, that implicit reli
ance on the statements found in the
Bible, which Haeckel set out to impugn,
is now wholly discredited. We need
not consider the Old Testament, and
Haeckel does not discuss it. _ The
cosmological speculations of Genesis are
now known to have been borrowed from
earlier religions : the historical books
are so full of error that we can only
trust them when we have independent
verification; whole books (Daniel, Es
ther, Tobit, etc.) are given up as wholly
unhistorical. This can be learned from
the works of Christian scholars to-day.
The Old Testament remains a work of
surpassing interest, containing some fine
literature and some of the highest moral
teaching of the ancient world. But it
no longer obstructs the path of the
scientist or the historian. As to the
New Testament, the work of recon
struction is not equally advanced.
Writers like Archdeacon Wilson confuse
the issue by taking “verbal inspiration ”
to be the butt of the rationalist attack.
No doubt one will still find many simple
believers in verbal inspiration, but that
is not the serious difficulty. The
opinion that the rationalist seeks to dis1 As a fact, the real secret of Dr. Loofs’s
bitterness and animosity seems to be that
Haeckel has laid a strong charge against Church
History. Apart from one historian, whom he
mentions by name, there was no reason for
thinking he included advanced writers like
Harnack and Loofs. But that his charge
against conventional Church History was solidly
grounded is well known to every student of
history, and will presently be fairly established.
87
credit—the opinion of the majority of
Christians to-day (solemnly propounded
to the world only a few years ago by
the official head of the Church of Rome)
—is the belief that the Bible contains
no error. Once the infallibility of the
Bible is abandoned, it ceases to be a
barrier to progress. The infallibility of
the Old Testament is not now held by
any Christian scholar; and the infalli
bility of the New Testament is rapidly
being expelled from the cultured Chris
tian mind. We have seen how Dr.
Loofs himself rejects the account of the
virgin-birth (Matt, i., Luke ii.) which
had worn itself into the very heart of
Christianity. “No well-informed, and
at the same time honest and conscien
tious theologian, can deny that he who
asserts these things as indisputable facts
affirms what is open to grave doubts,”
he says, significantly enough, in his
article in the American Journal of
Theology. In his article (“ Christologie
Kirchenlehre ”) in the Real-Encyclopadie filer Protestantische Theologie he
talks freely of “layers of biblical tradi
tion ” and their relative trustworthiness.
This statement, which has been taken
throughout the Christian era to be the
most characteristic and one of the most
important statements of the New Testa
ment, is now relegated to “ one of the
latest and least reliable ” of these
“layers.” The article on the Gospels
in the Encyclopedia Biblica, which re
flects the condition of cultured biblical
thought in England, is written entirely
in the same spirit; the author finds only
nine texts in the Gospels which are
“ entirely credible,” and without which
“ it would be impossible to prove to a
sceptic that any historical value what
ever was to be assigned to the Gospels.”
The inexpert reader is often misled by
statements to the effect that the critics
are returning on their traces, and are
denying the late dates assigned by the
Tubingen school to the Gospels and the
fewness of the genuine epistles of St.
Paul. The second point is not important
for our purpose, but the first statement is
�88
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
gravely misleading. When an ecclesias
tical journal or a tactical apologist re
produces Harnack’s saying that recent
criticism is vindicating “the essential
truth of tradition” about the Gospels,
one can only regret that one is incom
petent to borrow some of the phrases of
Dr. Loofs. The simple believer is en
couraged to think that the miraculous
life of Jesus is being fully rehabilitated.
The composition of the Gospels is being
put back to the period 65-125 : that is
to say, 65-70 for Mark, 70-75 for
Matthew, 78-93 for Luke, and 80-120
for John. It is not thought proper to
explain that the critics by no means
refer to the Gospels as we have them
to-day, and that these Gospels consist
of earlier and later “layers”—in plain
English, interpolations. It is not con
sidered necessary to explain that the
return to the Gospels only means, in
the words of Loofs, “ a return to the
sayings of Jesus in the synoptic gospels,”
and that the miraculous legends may be
sorted out as unprovable and incredible.
Well may the Christian World com
plain of “the lack of honesty” in
theological literature ! The truth is that
the historical value of the New Testa
ment is shattered, and Christian scholars
are, as in the case of the Old Testament,
retreating upon its ethical value. Thus
the putting back of the composition of
the synoptic Gospels into the first cen
tury does not save that popular reliance
on their legends which Haeckel solely
regarded.
This brings us to our second point,
the consideration of the person of Christ.
In this, as a matter of fact, Haeckel takes
up an exceedingly moderate position, and
falls far short of the advanced position
of many of the ablest recent Rationalist
writers. He assumes not only the his
torical character of Christ, but also that
we know enough about him to speak of
“ his high and noble personality ” and
to describe him as “ a noble prophet
and enthusiast.” He denies the divinity
of Christ, the miraculous powers that
are assigned to him in the Gospels, and j
the. originality of some of the chief
ethical sayings attributed to him. This
is not merely a position that will readily
be endorsed by numbers of Christian
theologians, but it is one that many theo
logians, to say nothing of non-Christian
writers, will regard as granting too much
to the religious tradition. How widely
the divinity of Christ is rejected to-day
few can be ignorant. The vague and
fluid phrases in which even the belief in
it is expressed very commonly now mis
lead only the inexpert. The older
Rationalistic attitude as to Jesus—that
we might omit the supernatural portions
of the Gospel narrative and take the
rest as historical—is giving way to a more
scientific procedure, and the figure of
Christ is dissolving into a hundred
elements. Comparative religion traces
numbers of the Gospel legends, such as
the virgin-birth, if not all the features of
the birth-story, to pre-Christian religions.
The death and burial, many incidents of
the life, and very much of the teaching,
are not more difficult to trace. Whilst
Christian scholars are separating the
Gospel-story into “layers of tradition”
(thus explaining the obvious contradic
tions), the study of the Greek, Egyptian,
Mithraist, and other religions, which
prevailed at the time and in the place
where the Gospels were written, is assign
ing their proper sources to the “ later
layers.” 1 The virgin-birth, which has
been so prominently brought before the
mind of English readers through the
famous denial on the part of a dignitary
of the Church of England, is only an
illustration of the process of dissolution
that is going on. When that process is
complete we shall see how little will be
left of the figure of the Crucified that
has been graven on the heart of Europe
for nearly 1500 years. Most assuredly
Haeckel’s position is a modest one. And
1 Read the able and learned efforts to trace
many of the gospel-elements in Mr. J. M.
Robertson’s Pagan Christs and Christianity and
Mythology. For the analysis of the Gospels read
especially Dr. Schmiedel’s article in the Encyclo-.
padia Biblica.
�SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
to conceal the strength of his position (as
opposed to the conventional position) by
the dust of a heated conflict as to
whether Christ’s father was Joseph the
carpenter or Pantheras the Greek is only
another specimen of “the lack of honesty
in apologetic literature.”
The third point to which Haeckel ad
dresses himself is the belief that there
has been anything unique about the
history or power of the Christian religion.
Here not only is Haeckel’s position very
moderately expressed, but the belief he
attacks is dissolving more rapidly than
the preceding beliefs. The term “unique ”
is—people so often forget—a relative or
comparative term; yet nine-tenths of
the ordinarily educated Christians who
talk of the uniqueness of the Bible have
never read a line of the Babylonian,
Persian, Egyptian, Hindoo, or Chinese
religious literatures; nine-tenths of those
who talk of the unique character of
Christ are totally ignorant of the work
and (traditional) character of Zoroaster,
Buddha, Lao-Tse, Kung-Tse, Apollonius,
or the Bab ; and nine-tenths of those
who think the history of Christianity is
“ unique ” have never studied, even in
the most general way, the growth and
work of Buddhism, or Confucianism, or
Parseeism, or Manicheeism, or Moham
medanism, or Babiism.
They have
trusted their ecclesiastical historians—
not men like Loofs and Harnack, but
the “ popular ” writers and the apologetic
writers of the Churches. Through this
literature most of us have waded at one
time or other; we can appreciate the
justice of the heaviest censure that can
be passed on it. It is one of the most
questionable implements in the employ
ment of the modern Churches. Com
plaint is frequently heard that rationalist
writers are ever seeking to belittle and
besmirch a religion which, with all its
defects, has had, in Haeckel’s words,
“ an ennobling influence on the history
of civilisation ” (p. 117). The reason is
found in the gross mis-statement and
perversion of the moral and religious
life in Europe during the last 1500 years
89
which the ecclesiastical historians have
been guilty of.
I will take in illustration one of . the
most characteristic and interesting periods
of this history of which I chance to have
expert knowledge—the fourth century.
Not many years ago I taught in a semi
nary, and preached from a Catholic
pulpit, the conventional theory of a
spiritual conquest of the Roman world
by Christianity—of “Rome, oppressed
by the weight of its vices, tottering to
embrace the foot of the crucifix.” That
is the historical theory you will hear from
almost every pulpit in this land to-day,
and will find, not merely in Christian
Evidence and S.P.C.K. and R.T.S.
Tracts, but in Sheppard and Milman
and Villemain and Dollinger and other
standard authorities. It is a ridiculously
false picture. Schultze has shown1 that
in some of the most important provinces
of the Empire not more than two and a
half per cent, were Christian at the
beginning of the fourth century. The
old religion had almost lost all serious
influence, and a number of Oriental re
ligions were pervading the Empire with
an ascetic and spiritual gospel. Of these
religions Christianity was one—not the
most ethical or spiritual or most success
ful. When the persecutions ceased, and
the Christians came out into the light of
day, their spiritual poverty was—with few
exceptions—a notable feature. Until 323
they proceeded quietly with their proselytic work, like the Mithraists and the
Manicheans, whom they closely re
sembled, when the conversion of Con
stantine to Christianity suddenly gave
them an immense advantage.
The
emperor’s “ conversion ” is not claimed
to have been important either as an in
tellectual or a spiritual phenomenon, but
it was supremely important in the poli
tical sense. Courtly senators followed
his example. It became, as Symmachus,
one of the last of the great pagans, says,
“ a new form of ambition to desert the
altars ” of the gods. Successive Christian
1 Geschichie des Untergangs des Heidenlhums.
�90
SCIENCE AND CHRISTIANITY
emperors sat on the Western throne, but
preserved a political neutrality, so that
Christianity advanced slowly. The short
reign of Julian showed how far Chris
tianity was from a triumph, and his suc
cessors, though Christian, still declined
to interfere politically in the rivalry of
religions.
By the year 380 the overwhelming
majority of the people and “ nearly the
whole of the nobility ” (St. Augustine
says) were still Pagan ; and the letters
of St. Jerome show that the Christians
were less spiritual than ever. But in 382
the “ triumph of Christianity ” began ;
within twenty years it became the
religion of the Empire. How ? From
the accession of Gratian (aged sixteen)
and Valentinian II. (aged four) there was
a succession of youthful, weak, and
religious emperors in the West. The
court was at Milan; its spiritual director
was St. Ambrose, one of the finest,
strongest, and most ambitious (for the
Church) of the fathers. He used his
influence, threatened the boy-emperor
with excommunication, and soon decree
after decree went out in favour of
Christianity. The pagan revenues were
confiscated: then the pagan temples
were destroyed or sealed up : finally any
who dared to cultivate any other than the
Christian religion were fined, imprisoned,
and threatened with death. At the same
time the Christian Churches adopted, or
had already adopted, all the attractions'
of the temples. They had gorgeous
vestments and ceremonies and pro
cessions, aspersion with water, incense,
banquets and dancing in the Church on
feast-days (generally ending in drunken
revelry), and all that the Roman cared
for in “religion.” The pagan merely
walked over to the Christian temple,
when he found his own barred by soldiers
or razed to the ground, and took
with him his music and flowers and in
cense and wine and statues. There was
no great moral reform, no great spiritual
conversion, except in a few distinguished
cases like that of St. Augustine.1
This gross misrepresentation of his
torical truth by ecclesiastical writers is
the sole reason for the Rationalist’s
playing “ the devil’s advocate.” Almost
the whole period of Christian history has
been treated with similar untruthfulness.
The good has been greatly exaggerated :
the evil suppressed or denied. The
belief in the uniqueness of the growth
of Christianity and of its moral and
civilising influence rests on a mass of
untruth and of calumny of other religions
and sects. Christianity and its sacred
books take their place in the great world
process. We see them growing naturally
out of the older religions and literatures,
and linking us with thoughts of other
ages. When theological literature has
ceased to offend us and to mislead the
people with its “ lack of honesty,” we
will study them with impartial interest,
and seek to establish their influence for
good as well as their share in the de
gradation of Europe from the first
century to the twelfth. Until then the
work of the Rationalist historian is
bound to seem destructive and one
sided.
1 Fuller details may be found in the author’s
St. Augustine and His Age: or in Boissier’s
Fin du Paganisme, Beugnot’s Histoire de la
Destruction dit Paganisme, or Schultze’s Geschichte des Untergangs des Heidenthums.
�THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
9i
Chapter XI
THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
Mr. H. G. Wells, the accredited
prophet of these latter days, predicts in
his well-known Anticipations that by the
end of the present century Christianity
will have been wholly abandoned
by people of culture. There will be,
he thinks, “a steady decay in the
various
Protestant
congregations,”
whilst Catholicism will increase for a
time, but only amongst “ the function
less wealthy, the half-educated, in
dependent women of the middle class,
and the people of the Abyss.” Another
recent writer, Sir Henry Thompson,
says in his essay on The Unknown
God\ “The religion of Nature must
eventually become the faith of the
future; its reception is a question for
each man’s personal convictions. It is
one in which a priestly hierarchy has no
place, nor are there any specified
formularies of worship. For ‘ Religion
[in the words of Huxley] ought to mean
simply reverence and love for the
Ethical ideal, and the desire to realise
that ideal in life. ’ ” Recently, too, Mr.
J. Brierley wrote one of his widely-read
articles in the Christian World on the
theme that there is impending “ a more
radical and more effective attack on
Christianity” than any that have pre
ceded. Mr. Rhondda Williams says that
“ already it is the fact that the cultured
laity on the one hand, and the great
bulk of the democracy on the other, are
outside the Churches.” It is true that
Mr. Ballard wrote in the British Weekly,
in July of this year, that Christianity “ is
at all events larger in quantity and
better in quality than ever before, and has
a brighter promise than in any previous
period of its history.” But within two
months we find him expressing himself
as follows : “ The outlook is a serious
one ; but I am not a pessimist, although
too many of my colleagues regard me as
such. I am only sensitive to the danger
of the day. What they call pessimism
I call open-eyed honesty. We are enter
ing on a very grave and probably pro
longed struggle, as Dr. Flint has recently
stated. The modern atmosphere is in
general tending away from rather than
towards all that is distinctive of Chris
tianity.” 1
Many things happened during the
course of the last summer to elicit or to
confirm these vaticinations. Haeckel’s
Riddle of the Universe was circulating to
the extent of some eighty thousand
copies in this country alone. Ecclesi
astics affected to believe that it was only
ignorant and thoughtless workers and
clerks who were deluded by its show of
learning, but they must have known
that it was being eagerly read by tens of
thousands of thoughtful artisans and
middle-class readers.2 Letters began to
trickle into the religious Press, telling of
increasing secessions and expressing ex
treme alarm. Within twelve months the
Rationalist Press Association, labouring
under the usual disadvantages of an
heretical publisher, put into circulation
nearly half a million of its publications ;
1 See interview by Mr. Raymond Blathwayt
in Great Thoughts.
2 So much pity is expressed in this connection
for the poor artisan that I must make this
observation. I have had intimate knowledge of
the clergy—Roman Catholic clergy, who, as a
rule, have had more definite philosophical instruc
tion than their Protestant colleagues—and have
lately, in the course of lecturing and wandering,
made a fair acquaintance with the working and
lower middle-class readers, who so largely pur
chase sixpenny editions. I do not hesitate to
say that there are tens of thousands of the latter
in England who can read Haeckel more intelli
gently than the majority of the Catholic clergy.
�92
THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
and almost every journal in England was
disturbing the peace of the faithful with
a reminder that there was a riddle of the
universe.
A Socialist journal, the
Clarion, made a drastic and sustained
attack on Christianity, in spite of threats
and jeers, and immediately found itself
in touch with the predominant sentiment
of its readers.
Other working-class
organs found it equally safe to open fire
on the Churches.
Two independent
and rigorous inquiries were conducted
into the religious condition of London,
where the Churches display incalculable
wealth. Both inquiries—that conducted
by Mr. C. Booth and that conducted by
Mr. Mudie-Smith for the Daily News—
proved that the Christian Churches in
London do not attach to themselves
more than a quarter of the population,
and that the great majority of their
adherents are women. A census taken
in Liverpool was equally depressing;
and observations made in several small
provincial towns showed that the con
dition was very general in the country.
At the Trade Union Congress at
Leicester the representatives of several
million workers declared for the ex
clusion of religious instruction from the
schools. A superficial inquiry at New
York discovered the same condition in
America, and the latest Australian
census also showed a decay of the
Churches, especially the Catholic Church
and the Salvation Army. M. Guyau dis
covered that in Paris not one in sixteen
of the population attended church, and
Protestant ministers have reported that
scarcely 8,000,000 of the population of
France remain under the obedience of
the Roman Church. The Belgian elec
tions show that half the population of
that “Catholic” country has definitely
ranged itself against the Church. The
success of the Social-Democrats in
Germany, and the reports from Spain
and Italy, point to the same general
defection of the people from Church
influence.1
1 One of the points in which Dr. Loofs joins
issue with Haeckel is in relation to religious
With the various sources of consola
tion which the clergy point out to each
other we are not concerned. The chief
of these seems to be hope; and a com
plete ignorance of the grounds on which
it rests prevents me from discussing it.
We know that the Churches have enor
mous wealth; one secondary denomination
having recently collected a sum of a mil
lion guineas, and another having erected
a cathedral at a cost of a quarter of a
million.
We know that no odium
attaches to the defence of Christianity, if
a scientist or historian be disposed to
defend it. We know that no intrigue
or menace is directed against the pub
lication or circulation of Christian litera
ture.
We know that the wealthier
journals of this country and the general
cultured sentiment is averse to attacking
even when it does not believe. We know
that the clergy have made enormous
concessions to the secular spirit of the
age, until in places their definite reli
gious ministration can only be timidly
and apologetically slipped in between a
cornet solo and a phonographic entertain
ment. Yet “ the outlook is serious,”
and “the cultured laity and the great
bulk of the democracy are outside the
Churches.”
Mr. Ballard has made
merry over the fact that Haeckel opens
his work in a despondent strain, and
yet his translator prefaces this with “a
paean of triumph.” He forgets that
there is an interval of several years
(not two months, as in his own case)
between the two passages.
The
twentieth century opened with—most
Rationalists considered—a brighter pros
pect for the Churches. Already this
statistics. Haeckel had given (from another
writer) the number of Christians as 410,000,000.
Dr. Loofs quotes two recent authorities who give
the figures as 535,000,000 and 556,000,000,
respectively. This is a fair illustration of the
“ victories ” of our apologists. Everyone knows
that these figures are obtained by lumping
together the populations of what are called
“Christian countries.” So France and England
are each credited with about 40,000,000 Chris
tians instead of 10,000,000. Belgium and Italy
and other countries are similarly treated. The
figures are totally worthless.
�THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
has wholly faded, and it seems impos
sible for the Churches ever to regain a
foot of the lost territory.1
This is not a “ paean of triumph,” but
a statement of fact. In the days when
a profession of unbelief involved social
ostracism and malignant calumny, when
men were thrown into prison with the
dregs of society for selling critical litera
ture or uttering critical sentiments, when
nearly every advance of science was
opposed by ignorant clergymen, when
women were bade to see their husbands
and sons in Hell for refusing to fre
quent the church, and the mind of
England was enslaved to dogmas that
all abhor to-day, the attack on Chris
tianity was necessarily predominantly
negative and destructive. Growth was
impossible until the iron bonds were
broken. To-day Rationalism, still rightly
militant and critical, has a conspicuous
constructive side. It has a sociological
outlook and an idealist gospel. After
all, the life of Europe has rested on
doctrinal foundations so long, and has
grown so accustomed to the stimulus of
religious thought, that some idea must
be substituted for the sources of inspira
tion that are rapidly exhausting. Haeckel
turns, therefore, at the close of his
cosmic speculations and his historical
glance at the Christian Church to con
sider this question of the successor of
Christianity.
Years ago he offered
Monism as “ a connecting link between
science and religion ”; as a system that
could unite harmoniously the finest
ethical truths of the Christian religion
1 Mr. Campbell makes a rhetorical point by
challenging a comparison between the census of
church-goers and a census of “ all the professedly
atheistic assemblies in London, all the Hyde
Park atheistic platforms, and the people who
are listening to atheistic propaganda.” Such a
quibble is unworthy of a serious speaker. 1 lie
limitation to “professedly atheistic” gatherings
makes the comparison ludicrous and unmeaning.
Let me in turn issue a challenge. Let the
figures of the circulation of the sixpenny Chris
tian publications be honestly compared with an
equal number, in an equal time, of the Rational
ist sixpenny works. Rationalism, Mr. Campbell
knows quite well, is almost entirely unorganised.
93
with the unshakable truths of modern
science. Even the believer in Christianity
must at times contemplate with misgiving
the practice of grounding the moral life
on beliefs which are to-day disputed and
attacked in every workshop in the land.
The child who has been trained to
honesty and sobriety on the ground
of supernatural reward or punishment,
or on the mere ground of giving offence
to an injured deity, must be of a singu
larly robust character to withstand
entirely the sneers at Hell and Heaven
and the open disbelief in God that
will presently assail his ears. If it be
desirable to have a humane, temperate,
and honourable community, it behoves
every thoughtful man to cast about for
some other ground for the commenda
tion of these moral qualities than an
enfeebled and disputed dogma. In
creasing stress is, therefore, laid on the
ethical and religious aspect of Monism.
One result of this is that, although the
Churches of our day profess a tolerance
which would have outraged the feelings
of their earlier leaders, their apologists
have by no means ceased to gird at the
alleged disastrous consequences of ma
terialism and agnosticism. Mr. Ballard,
who is supposed to have studied “un
belief” and “unbelievers,” introduces
his study (Miracles of Unbelief} with this
amiable quotation:
“ Hold thou the good : define it well:
For fear divine philosophy
Should push beyond her mark and be
Procuress to the Lords of Hell.”
Mr. Rhondda Williams says “ ideal has
no place in Haeckel’s philosophy ”; and
that on his principles “ over the crimes
of a Csesar Borgia you must write a great
‘Can’t help it.’ . . . The sweater who
grinds the faces of the poor can’t help
it.” Dr. Horton says that “men who
have no belief in God and immortality
sink to the level of the brutes,” and
“ come down to the level of the stocks
and the stones ”; that their “ soul is
shrunk, the mind is warped, and the
very body must carry its marks of degra-
Bishopsgat® InfititutaJ
�94
THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
dation.” Mr. R. J. Campbell says that
if the soul is not immortal, then the
right philosophy is to “eat and drink
and be merry ”; that the real obstacles
to Christianity are the thirst for money,
sensual pleasure and entertainment; and
that atheism is “ the gospel of destruc
tion, disease, and death.”1 This senti
ment is repeated weelily from scores of
pulpits all over the country; it is a
commonplace of ecclesiastical literature
and of a certain type of fiction.
Such tactics are malignant and dis
honourable.
I remember reading an
article in the Daily News some months
ago by Mr. Quiller Couch—a religious
author writing in a journal with a pre
ponderantly religious following.
He
touched on the current calumny of the
man without belief in God and immor
tality, and he urged that his readers
knew as well as he that when they
wanted a man of honour and humanity
to confide in they most probably looked
to an agnostic. Without claiming so
much as this, without enumerating the
Stephens and Morleys and Harrisons
that for years have adorned our letters
and our public life, one asks oneself
whether these cultivated clergymen can
have had an experience of their fellows
so different from that of this candid
novelist and essayist that we can at least
credit them with sincerity. It is impos
sible. The statement is an argument, a
stratagem, a flimsy piece of theorising.
It overrides for the moment every gentle
manly impulse, and closes its eyes to the
pain and the heart-burn that many a
gentle Christian mother will suffer as
she broods over it and thinks of her
wandering son. It is a mighty palliative
—I will not say justification—of the
violent language which often returns to
these gentlemen. Did you ever meet a
Christian who felt a moment’s anxiety
about his own character in the event of
his ceasing to believe in Christian teach1 Sermon in -the Christian Commonwealth,
July 30, 1903. This was Mr. Campbell’s first
sermon in the City Temple, and must be regarded
as an exceptionally deliberate utterance.
ing ? I never did. They could not face
their fellows with an avowal that they
were humane (when not defending the
faith) and honourable only or chiefly
because of reward hereafter, or because
God willed it. They are proud of their
own manliness. Their anxiety is ever
for the welfare of others, for “the
people.”
What, then, is the ethic of Monism
which these rhetoricians so completely
ignore ? One does not need a profound
or prolonged research to find it. It
rises out of the very ground on which
they base their ignoble appeal. They
would have us retain the outworn creed
of Christianity because it has been an
inspiration to character-forming, and
because character and a quick sense of
honour are amongst the most valuable
qualities of life. They do not see that
if honour, and sobriety, and high aims
are of value in and for themselves,
humanity will not lightly part with them,
whether or no it reject the miraculous
setting of them which the preacher com
mends. If “ to eat and drink and be
merry,” to extinguish all ambition of
spirit, to forego the visions of an Emerson
or a Mazzini, to pour one’s whole energy
into money-making and sensual pleasure
—if all these are social dangers and
personal misfortunes, humanity will see
to it that they are restrained. The issue
is plain. If moral qualities may dis
appear without the faculties of man being
stunted and the grace and glory of life
being endangered, they will disappear.
No power on earth will prevent it, now
that man has begun to reflect. But if
justice, and honour, and truthfulness,
and self-control, and kindness are
qualities that enrich and gladden the
personal and the social life, they will be
cultivated on that account. And as a
fact, if we take a broad and true survey,
the world was never richer in those
qualities, yet the influence of dogma was
never less. What does the humanitarian
movement mean ? What the movement
for the extinction of the flames of war,
the increase in philanthropic effort, the
�THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
growing social service of the rich, and a
score of other movements ? What has
shattered the barbaric doctrine of hell,
and extinguished for ever the fires of
persecution? A development of men’s
moral and humane feeling, which has
proceeded simultaneously with a decay
of belief.
But, we are told, you are still so near
to the age of universal belief that the
Christian ethic is in your blood in spite
of you. You are severed twigs that are
still green with the sap of the tree. I
reply, firstly, that it is the modern
rationalist and humanitarian movement
that has reformed Christianity. Compare
the degraded condition of Spain, where
the Church has been able to stifle criti
cism, with England and Germany, where
a century of criticism has been directed
upon Christianity from the otitside. And
I reply, secondly, that we are perfectly
conscious that the sap of Christianity is
in our moral fibres. 11 We firmly adhere
to the best part of Christian morality,”
says Haeckel (p. 120): and “ the idea of
the good in our monistic religion co
incides for the most part with the
Christian idea of virtue.” Why should
we be so foolish as to set aside the moral
experience of the last 2000 years ? It is
the heritage of the race. We have been
lifted above that petty sectarian attitude
that distinguishes the church-member.
We survey the whole moral and religious
life of humanity as one broad stream.
Christianity is a stage, a phase, in the
continuous history of the world.
It
borrowed its ethic from Judaea, from
Greece, and from Egypt. It was made
in Alexandria, the centre at that time of
the civilised world, and the converging
point of three great spiritual streams.
There is not a single ethical element in
primitive Christianity that cannot be
traced to its predecessors. Moreover,
the notion that the Hebrews had a
“genius for morality” has no longer
even the semblance of plausibility.
Read the 125th chapter of confessions
or protestations in the Egyptian Bible,
and you will find, a great Egyptologist
95
(Budge) says, a system of morality
“second to none among those which
have been developed by the greatest
nations of the world.” And this chapter
was compiled, from very much earlier
teaching, fifteen centuries before Christ
appeared, and at a time when the
Hebrews were yet uncivilised. The
Book of the Dead, as Dr. Washington
Sullivan says, is so lofty that “ if every
vestige of Christianity were obliterated
from the earth, it would provide an ad
mirable ethical outfit for the reorganisa
tion of morality in Europe.” Further, we
have within the last two years discovered
the very source of that lofty morality with
which the Hebrew prophets lifted their
nation from its barbaric level. At a date
when the Hebrews were sacrificing
human victims to their idols, two thousand
years before the decalogue in the Old
Testament was written, the Babylonians
(from whom the Hebrews obtained their
wisdom and civilisation) were living at a
very high level of moral idealism. The
Code of Laws of Khammurabi—laws
promulgated between 2285 and 2242 B.c.
—is seen to be the foundation of the
“ Mosaic legislation.” We now know,
Dr. Washington Sullivan says, that the
Hebrews “ were positively the last of all
the peoples of remote antiquity to dis
cover those high truths of the moral life
which constitute the unchanging founda
tion of society.”1
But, while, in taking over from
Christianity the moral heritage of
humanity, we owe it gratitude for new
development in some directions, we
must with Haeckel acknowledge that it
has overlaid moral truth with false ideals
that must be set aside. I am not
speaking merely of those mediaeval
horrors which all Christians avoid and
evade to-day. I am thinking of some of
the most distinctive features of the
composite Christ-ideal. When Mr.
1 Ancient Morality. The reader will find in
this admirable booklet a fuller account of this
and the preceding point. It can be obtained at
a moderate price from “ The Ethical Religion
Society,” Steinway Hall.
�96
THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
Campbell
says that Christ “ has
manufactured more nobleness than all
the moral codes in all the world put to
gether,” we see at a glance how little he
knows of “all the moral codes” and
what they have done. We who watch
the advance of comparative religion and
ethics, and of the criticism of the New
Testament, know what will eventually
become of this kind of Christianity
which stakes its existence on the
historical truth of the Gospels. Christ
is dissolving year by year. But even
when apologists have removed the stress
from the (largely, at least) legendary
person of Christ to that moral teaching
which appears in the first century as
“primitive Christianity,” we still join
issue with them. Haeckel has indicated
several features of the Christian ethic
which we cannot receive. Some of
these features are already abandoned
by our Christian neighbours. There is
the ascetic principle, one of the most
prominent elements of the Christ-teaching, which even the Catholic Church is
quietly dropping. There is the Gospel
of opposing violence by submission and
Hooliganism by emptying your pockets,
which one honest Anglican bishop has
pronounced “ impracticable.” There is
the contempt of art and nature, which
follows from the ascetic principle. There
is the commendation of virginity, which
no one regards to-day, with its implica
tion of the inferiority of marriage, so ex
pressly preached by the Church fathers.
There is the suppression of woman, in
spired by the Old Testament teaching,
which, as Mr. Lecky has shown, put
back her emancipation (which the
Romans were initiating) for more than a
thousand years. All these were errors
of the enthusiastic but ignorant com
pilers of the Christ-ideal, and the modern
world agrees to abandon them.
We claim, further, that this moral
teaching must be set once for all on a
purely humanist ground.
“ With eyes
fixed on the future,” says the great
Mazzini, “ we must break the last links of
the chain which holds us in bondage to
the past, and with deliberate stages move
on. We have freed ourelves from the
abuses of the old world; we must now
free ourselves from its glories. . . To-day
we have to found the polity of the nine
teenth century—to climb through philo
sophy to faith ; to define and organise
association, proclaim humanity, initiate
the New Age.” The doctrine of Hell
and Heaven is no longer a fitting founda
tion for moral conduct, as most edu
cated Christians recognise to-day. But
the personality of God or the personality
of Christ is just as little fitted. Have
you ever seen how the little-minded
villagers, along those parts of our coast
where the sea is steadily invading the
land, build time after time close to the
edge of the cliff? “ My grandfather lived
there,” some old man will tell you, point
ing his lean finger out into the sea. And
he knows that in twenty years more the
cottage he has himself built will be un
dermined and swept away. That is
the procedure of those theologians who
base their ethic on the successively dis
solving dogmas of Christianity. Their
grandfathers staked the moral condition
of the community on a belief in Hell;
their fathers grounded it on faith in the
supernatural character of the Bible.
They are basing it to-day on belief in
God and the historical reality of Christ.
And year by year the waves of criticism
and the tunnels of research are under
mining their position. Let us retreat
once for all from the land of dogma.
Morality is too important a matter to be
left at the mercy of scientific or historical
controversies. Cling to your beliefs if
you must—if you can ; but in view of the
controversy that surrounds them, and
will soon thicken about them a hundred
fold, do not seek to bind up the moral
tone of the community with so frail a
speculation.
People who imagine that this pro
posal to transfer the moral interest
from the care of the Churches has a
violent and unnatural character are
little acquainted with the history of the
subject. The leading writers on com-
�THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
parative religion assure us that, in the
words of Professor Tiele, “ in the be
ginning religion had little or no con
nection with morality.” In other words,
morality had a quite different and inde
pendent origin from theology. It was
only at a fairly advanced stage in the
development of priesthood that the
notion was advanced of the gods being
the authors and the priests the guardians
of the moral law. We have seen how
Babylon had the decalogue and an
elaborate moral code centuries before the
supposed giving of the tables to Moses
on Mount Sinai. The existence of a fullydeveloped moral sentiment can thus be
discovered ages before the first claim of
a revelation. If, further, we study the
moral feeling of the lowliest tribes, and
ascend gradually through the semibarbaric peoples known to history, such
as the ancient Mexicans or our own
forefathers, we can trace clearly enough
the growth of the moral ideal. When
men began to live in community they
discovered that certain restraints must
be placed on individual impulses. They
saw the enormous advantages to each of
a communal life, of co-operation and the
division of labour, of mutual help and
service, of substituting trial or arbitration
for bloody combats, and of being able to
trust each other. In other words, they
discovered that, if they were to advance
in the construction of social life, which
promised so many advantages, certain
new habits or rules or qualities were
necessary.
Justice, kindness, respect
for age, care of youth, truthfulness,
sobriety, and self-control were necessary.
In proportion as they acquired these
qualities their social life was healthy and
effective.
The individual gained far
more than he had relinquished in the
occasional restraint of his impulses.
And in proportion as they fell away from
this ideal their social life was enfeebled
and disturbed. Thus there grew up a
sense of the importance of the moral
ideal—such a sense as we find, for
instance, amongst the ancient Germans
long before their contact with Chris
97
tianity. In this way the decalogue came
to be written. Man was its author.
The experience of 200,000 years was
his inspiration. And to-day, when we
see how vitally necessary moral fibre
is for progress in the exacting race of
our national and international life, it is
hardly likely that we shall return to the
lawlessness of prehistoric life. There came
a stage in the evolution of the moral ideal
when men considered it so wonderful
a thought that they hailed it as a gift of
the gods, just as the Hebrews did when
they composed, or borrowed, the legend
of the giving of the law on Sinai. In
this way morality became intimately
associated with theology. It is probable
that, whilst this association has hindered
moral development in some ways—com
pare the stagnancy of the “ages of
faith ” with the great ethical advance of
this “ age of unbelief ”—it has in other
ways greatly promoted it.
However that may be, the time has
come for humanity to claim its own from
the gods. There is an obvious danger
that, as the theological structure with
which morality has so long been asso
ciated breaks up, morality may suffer for
a time. Scepticism about the one natur
ally leads to scepticism about the other.
To say that we should on that account
refrain from hastening the dissolution of
theology is the very reverse of wisdom or
statesmanship. We must insist on the
formation of a purely humanitarian ethic.
We must jealously remove this deeply
important interest from the arena of
controversy. Our children must not be
taught, as they are still taught, to restrain
their impulses to lying, stealing, and
unhealthy practices, merely on the ground
of certain religious beliefs. In a few years
they will hear those beliefs ridiculed and
torn to shreds on every side, and it may
be that the whole structure of their
moral habits will be shaken to the ground.
This is a grave social and humanitarian
problem.
Our educational authorities
insist that moral training shall be given
by the teacher only in connection with
' the legends of the Old Testament, which
G
�98
THE ETHIC AND RELIGION OF MONISM
are not taken to Be historical by clerical
Scholars themselves to-day, or with the
stories of the New Testament that are
being rapidly reduced to myths. The
child is too unsophisticated to see what
is called a “symbolic truth” in these,
and it is well known that the teachers in
our schools, often with great repugnance
to their own feelings, have to treat these
stories as historical, or leave them to be
considered historical.
It is a pitiful
situation, and ought not to be tolerated
even by those who still adhere to
religious beliefs.
An organisation has been created to
meet this situation; to agitate for the
introduction of purely humanitarian
moral instruction for the children in our
elementary schools, and to formulate
schemes of such teaching and provide
model-lessons and expert teachers to
show its practicability. Already several
local educational authorities have adopted
the ideas of this organisation. But over
the country at large the moral instruction
of our children is still totally bound up
with that teaching of the Bible which is
to-day so seriously controverted. Every
man, and especially every woman, who
is alive to the folly and the danger of
our present system should consider the
aim and work of this organisation.1
A more difficult question arises when
we turn to consider moral culture
amongst the adult portion of the
community. Dr. Haeckel is of opinion,
as are very many rationalist writers, that
we need look forward to no substitute
for the Churches in this respect, except
for a certain minority of the community.
“The modern man,” he says, “who has
‘ science and art,’ and therefore ‘ re
ligion,’ needs no special church, no
narrow, enclosed portion of space. For
through the length and breadth of free
nature, wherever he turns his gaze, to
1 I am referring to the Moral Instruction
League. Its central office is at 19 Buckingham
Street, Strand, Loudon, W.C. ; any inquiries
addressed there will be promptly answered by
the secretary. Branches of the League have
been formed in various parts of the country.
the whole universe or to any single
part of it, be finds indeed the grim
struggle for life, but by its side are ever
1 the good, the true, and the beautiful ’
his church is commensurate with the
whole of glorious nature. Still, there
will always be men of special tem
perament who will desire to have
decorated temples or churches as places
of devotion, to which they may with
draw.” No doubt, - 'when we have
introduced an adequate scheme of
purely natural moral instruction into our
primary and secondary- schools instead
of leaving this most important section
of the child’s education to the casual
observations of a reluctant and untrained
teacher in the course of a Bible lesson,
there will not be the same need for
church-assemblies in later life. But it
would seem that the tendency to form
new groups and organisations for moral
and humanitarian culture is on the
increase. Already there is in the field
an important “ Ethical movement,” with
branches in America,' England, France,
and Germany, and with an international
organ (The International Journal of
Ethics) and international congresses.
The English branch includes some
fifteen societies in London and the
provinces, most of which are gathered
into a Union of Ethical Societies,1 and
is spreading rapidly. It has an organ
of its own (Ethics, one penny weekly),
and takes an active part in all social and
humanitarian work. There is also the
Positivist Movement; and there are num
bers of Humanitarian, Tolstoyan, and
other societies with similar aims. Even
churches and chapels are slowly casting
off their raiment of dogma and specula
tion, and restricting their aim to moral
culture. In many parts of England
this transformation has already com
pletely taken place. The tendency
everywhere is in the direction of an
abandonment of dogma, and a relin
quishment of cosmic speculation to the
philosopher and the scientist. Some
1 Central office at 19 Buckingham Street,
London, W.C.
J
�THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
day our Churches will perceive at length
that the belief in God is itself a cosmic
speculation, exposed: to a hundred
hazards of discovery and controversy.
Then, in the words of. Emerson, “there
will be a new Church, founded on moral
science ; at first cold and naked, a babe
in a manger again, the algebra and
mathematics of ethical law, the
Church of men to come, without
shawms, or psaltery, or sackbut, but it
will have heaven and earth for its beams
and rafters, science for symbol and
illustration; it will fast enough gather
beauty, music, picture, and poetry.”
That Haeckel is right in this, his final
judgment and expectation, none will
question who have long observed the
development of religious thought and
church life. Strong and eloquent voices
plead already within the Churches for
the elimination of dogma, for an ex
clusive concern for moral culture. If the
modem art of anticipation have any
validity, it is certain that theological
speculation and moral culture are
severing their long association. We are
taking the step that some of the great
religions of the world took ages ago.
Buddha, wiser in this than the founders
of Christianity, pleaded solely for moral
reform, and coldly discountenanced
theological speculation.
Enlightened
Buddhists hold to the spirit of his
teaching, though Buddhism has, as a
j
'
■ .i . J
99
whole, been unfaithful to his spirit. But
another great Oriental religion, Con
fucianism, the religion of the cultured
Chinese and Japanese, had taken the
step we are taking to-day centuries before
Christ was born. The followers of
Kung-Tse have for ages maintained
moral culture without dogma. Their
Bible, the Bushido, is the model
Bible of the world. It is the turn of
Christianity to make religion “ the service
of man ” instead of “ the service of God.”
If there be a God, he needs not the
sacrifices, and he must disdain the flattery
and adoration, of' a poverty-stricken
humanity. We must turn at length from
the land of shadows, where the super
natural lurks, and pour the whole intense
stream of religious emotion into the task
of uplifting ourselves and our fellows.
We must free the religious and moral
ideal from every entanglement of contro
verted dogma, and set it on a natural
base. Then will cease the long anxiety
and the foolish resistance to every ad
vance of thought. Then each new
discovery will shed new light on our
ideal, and science will be. eagerly
pursued.
“ Oh Science, lift aloud thy voice that stills
The pulse of fear, and through the conscience
thrills—
Thrills through the conscience with the
news of peace—
How beautiful thy feet are on the hills ! ”
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Chapter X
THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
The reader will probably remember
a famous passage in one of Huxley’s
essays where the anxiety that theologians
betray, as the mechanical interpretation
of the universe advances, is compared to
the terror which savages exhibit during
an eclipse of the sun. Whether Huxley
had had a rude experience of that
D 2
�IOO
THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
ecclesiastical rhetoric, of which we have
seen so much under the name of
“ criticism ” of Haeckel, and had yielded
to a malicious impulse in his choice of
an analogy, we need not inquire. We
have seen that the apologists are still
eager to. throw every obstacle they can
suggest in the way of the advance, or of
the acceptance, of the mechanical view.
We have encountered them at every step
in our course. Sometimes, indeed, we
have found ecclesiastics with scientific
qualifications desperately recommending
us to read criticisms that aim at dis
crediting scientific procedure; as when
Mr. Ballard tells his readers to study
Stallo s Concepts of Modern Physics, a
work “the.most of which,” says Sir O.
Lodge, “is occupied in demolishing
constructions of straw.” But these
tactics have long ago ceased to be
effective. Science has won too solid a
position in modern life to be shaken by
the ill-informed criticism of Stallo or the
academic subtleties of Professor Ward.
Nor is the general reader greatly moved
by the efforts of our modern theologians
to sit in judgment on science in its own
domain. The obvious plan for the
Churches to adopt with the largest hope
of success was to obtain, and give a wide
publicity to, utterances by prominent
scientists that tend to rehabilitate
theology. I am not suggesting that
these distinguished scientists only speak
out under a strong pressure from the
clergy. On the part of Sir O. Lodge, for
instance, and Dr. A. R. Wallace, there
is a very clear concern for religion,
which is entitled to our full respect.
But it cannot be denied that the use
which is made by the clergy of these
occasional utterances is gravely mislead
ing.
We have already seen this in
the case of those German scientists to
whom Haeckel refers as having changed
their views. The only statement that
Haeckel makes is that they have ceased
to defend the positive views which he
expounds in the Riddle • yet almost
every clerical writer represents them as
having, to use Dr. Plorton’s words,
“ come to recognise spirit as the author
of consciousness ”—this in spite of the
fact that Haeckel expressly mentions
Du Bois-Reymond’s agnosticism on this
point (p. 6). Dr. Horton, with his
inclusion amongst the elect of the most
notorious materialists that ever lived,
has a title to leniency, in a sense, because
of his obvious ignorance of the entire
subject. The position of those apologists
who have some scientific culture is more
serious. These German scientists—
Wundt, Baer, Virchow, and Du BoisReymond — are
agnostics. Professor
Haeckel assures me that in Germany the
clerical writers call them “atheists.”
They lend no support whatever to even
the. most advanced and liberal form of
theism.
Writers who so thoroughly
mi-lead the English public as to their
position have little right to discuss
the taste of Haeckel’s analysis of
his. colleagues’ views.
The oriental
saying about straining at the gnat
and. swallowing the camel is painfully
pertinent.
We have now to examine those utter
ances on the part of English men of
science which are so much quoted of
late, and we shall find how little support
they really give to the religious position.
Of the later views of G. J. Romanes I will
speak later, when we come to deal with
the somewhat similar ideas of Mr. W.
Mallock. Romanes saw to the end the
terrible strength of the scientific position.
It was only by an appeal to “extrarational ” and unscientific testimony
that he sought to evade it. With Sir O.
Lodge we need not deal in detail. His
chief line of argument is of a teleological
nature, and is exposed to the difficulties
we have already indicated. Nor do I
propose to deal with the spiritist convic
tions of Sir O. Lodge or Dr. Wallace, or
(if they still exist) Sir W. Crookes, or
(in a degree) Professor James. Spiritist
evidence is a subject for personal investi
gation. We may also hold ourselves
dispensed from dealing in detail with
the views of the late Dr. St. George
Mivart. They are not urged upon us to-
�THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
day.1 But there have lately been published
two remarkable pronouncements by dis
tinguished English scientists, Dr. Wallace
and Lord Kelvin, and these it is incum
bent on us to examine. It is chiefly on
the strength of these utterances, that
clerical apologists talk of a reconciliation
of science and religion, if not of “a
rehabilitation of religion. by science.”
These utterances have, in their bald
and misleading outline, been published
throughout the country. We shall see,
in this and the following chapter, how
wholly ineffectual they were, how swiftly
they were torn to shreds by the proper
experts on the subjects involved, and
how clearly the episodes show that the
science of to-day is overwhelmingly
favourable to the positions we have
defended against Haeckel’s critics.
Dr. A. R. Wallace, one of the most
distinguished naturalists of our time, has
long been famous for his opposition to
the doctrine of the evolution of the
human mind. This opposition, main
tained in face of a remarkable and
increasing consensus of scientists and
scientific theologians, is ceasing to im
press inquirers as it once did. The
opinions of a man of such ability, expert
knowledge, and candour, must always be
examined with respect. But we have
seen that the problem is very different
to-day from what it was thirty years ago.
To-day we all admit that evolution is a
cosmic law: Haeckel says it is “ the
second law of substance,” and the theo
logians say it is God’s way of making
things. We all admit the evolution of
matter and the evolution of solar
systems; and most of us admit the
evolution of life and the evolution of
species. On the other hand, we trace
back the distinctive human institutions
of to-day—art, civilisation, science, phi1 Had Mivart lived, the public would have seen
a sensational development in the exposition of
his later opinions. He told me, some years
before his death, that he intended to speak out
fully before he quitted the stage, and he frankly
admitted that his scepticism was deep and his
concern for religion little more than a belief in
its moral efficacy.
IOI
losophy, religion, moral codes, and lan
guage—along a line of evolution to very
primitive beginnings. Grant a glimmer
of intelligence and reason in early man,
and we can very well conceive the natural
development of these institutions in the
course of the last 200,000 years. We
must, indeed; because we know that the
prehistoric man, whose remains we un
earth to-day, had not these things. We
have, therefore, only to bridge the interval
between the brain of the Neanderthal
man and that of the anthropoid ape,
between the mind of the highest animal
and that of the lowest man. The dif
ference is one of degree, not of kind.
Comparative psychology finds in animals
the same emotions and reasoning power
as in man, only less highly developed.
Further, we have a period of at least
600,000 years in which the advance
might be effected. The anthropoid apes
appear in the Miocene period (about
900,000 years ago). Man is not held
to be developed from them, but from a
common ancestor with them; so that
from that period to the time when we
find unmistakable trace of man (250,000
to 220,000 years ago) natural selection
must have been at work.
Finally, we
have lately discovered a most important
link in the chain of development (the
pithecanthropus), and the study of the
brain is, as we saw, suggesting some very
remarkable and illuminating possibilities.
If Canon Aubrey Moore could say that
Mr. Wallace’s view “ had a strangely un
orthodox look ” sixteen years ago, it has
certainly not lost its singularity in our
day. When Dr. Haeckel went to Java,
two years ago, on a scientific expedition,
the Press assured us that he had gone to
search for more bones of the pithecan
thropus. As a fact, though his researches
and travels took him within a hundred
miles of the spot where Dubois found
the famous remains in 1894, he did not
go there. The evidence for the complete
natural development of man is so great
that such discoveries are unnecessary.
But Dr. Wallace has very recently
I entrenched his position with a very
�102
THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
remarkable attack on current scientific
conceptions. He purports to undo a
large and important section of the scien
tific procedure of our earlier chapters,
and we must enter upon a thorough
examination of his statements.1
He
says that the “ new astronomy ” entirely
disciedits that “ cosmological perspec
tive ” which we have taken from Haeckel
and supported with recent evidence.
Instead of finding indications of infinity,
he says, modern astronomers have dis
covered very definite limits to the
material universe. Instead of our sun
being a . neglected and unimportant
element in the stellar universe, it is the
very centre, or near the centre, of the
whole system. Instead of our earth
being a very ordinary fragment of matter,
torn, in some way, from the central mass,
and forming a casual crust at its cooled
surface, it. is a unique body in the uni
verse ; it is fitted to support life in a way
that no other planet of our system is,
and that most probably no other planet
in the universe is. Thus, instead of
man being a mere casual product of
natural development, he is the very
centre and culmination of its processes,
a unique creation, for whose production
the whole universe seems to be one vast
and orderly mechanism, set up for that
purpose by a Supreme Intelligence.
If this is true, it is one of the most
startling and dramatic discoveries ever
made. Let me point out at once that if
all this (except the last line) were estab
lished to-morrow it would not add one
grain of evidence to the religious position,
and would not break a line in the essen
tial structure of Monism. The universe
would still be a mechanism, with no
indication of ever having begun to exist;
and Dr. Wallace’s teleological plea for a
guiding intelligence would be as illogical
as we have seen that argument to be.
This new discovery would greatly impress
(because it would greatly unsettle) the
1 The book he announces is not published as
I write, so that I follow the two articles he wrote
in the Fortnightly Review (March and Sep
tember, 1903).
imagination, but would have no philo
sophical significance. Dr. Wallace says
we could no longer attribute the appear
ance of life to chance ; but we do not
attribute it now to “chance.”
We
attribute it to a mechanism which is not
erratic, but fixed, in its action. Setting
aside the imagination and the emotions,
there is no more philosophic significance
in the fact of the materials and conditions
of life being found in just one cosmic
body than in a million. Dr. Wallace
seem(> to make much of the “ re markable: coincidence” of these curious
privileges of our planet with the actual
appearance of life on it. Most people
will think there would be some reason
to use the word remarkable if the con
ditions were here and the life was not
forthcoming.
There is no religious
significance in all that Dr. Wallace urges.
But it is- in direct opposition to much
that we have established in the earlier
stages of .Haeckel’s position, and we
must examine the evidence adduced in
support of it. If it is true, Monism can
assimilate, it without strain. We shall
see that it is not only not proved, but
the attempt to prove it only shows again
the correctness of even Haeckel’s minor
positions, r
It is, naturally, to astronomy that Dr.
Wallace turns for evidence. He is not
an expert, in that science, but, of course,
every philosophic thinker must borrow
material from many different sciences.
The truth is, however, that no sooner
were Dr. Wallace’s views published than
there was immediately a loud and unani
mous condemnation of them on the part
of astronomers. The astronomers of
France and Germany were frankly cynical
about, them, two of the leading French
astronomers writing to combat them in
Knowledge. Our chief English astrono
mers, of all schools, at once repudiated
the alleged evidence. Professor Turner,
the Savilian Professor of Astronomy at
Oxford, said that Dr. Wallace had “ not
suggested, anything new which was in
the least likely to be true. He seems to
me to have unconsciously got his facts
�THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
distorted, and to indicate practically
nothing wherewith to link them to his
conclusion.” Dr. Maunder pronounced
the new theory “a myth,” and was not
sure if Dr. Wallace intended the article
to be taken as “a serious one.” A
number of other astronomers joined in
the discussion, and, apart from one or
two details in his evidence,,not a single
expert undertook to defend him. But
we must examine his several positions in
succession, so as to bring out once more
the fact that Haeckel is supported by
the most recent science.
The first point, and the most interest
ing for our purpose, is the contention
that the new astronomy discovers the
universe to have a d.efinite limit. We
have urged that Haeckel was in harmony
with the evidence when he spoke of the
universe as “ infinite,” so that here is a
clear contradiction. It need not be said
that the validity of Monism is not at
stake in the matter. Whether the uni
verse is limited or unlimited, it remains
a Monistic universe. The question is
whether Haeckel has misread the evi
dence of astronomy on this incidental
question of limit or no limit. It is well
to remember that “ infinity ” is a nega
tive idea. It merely denies that there is
a limit to the scheme of things. What
we have to see, then, is whether the most
recent investigations of astronomy point
to the existence of such a limit or not.
The evidence for a limit on which Dr.
Wallace lays most stress is, instead of
being a study in “ the new astronomy,”
a very old and threadbare fallacy.
Flammarion says1 it was “ the subject of
long and learned discussions during the
course of the eighteenth century and up
to the middle of the nineteenth,” and he
adds that “ it would not be difficult to
settle it to-day.” The argument is that
if the number of luminous stars were
infinite the sky would be at night as
bright as it is at noonday. The infinite
number would compensate for the dis
tance. But the actual star-light is only
1 Knowledge, June, 1903.
103
about one-fortieth the light of themoon,
and that is only a five-thousandth of the
intensity of the light of the sun. Dr.
Wallace has taken this specious calcula
tion from Professor Newcomb, but has,
as Dr. Maunder points out, omitted two
conditions which Newcomb carefully
gives, and which make the speculation
totally inapplicable to the actual uni
verse. Newcomb’s calculation assumed
that no star-light was lost in transmission,
and that “ every region of space of some
great but finite extent is, on the average,
occupied by at least one star.” Neither
of these conditions is found in our uni
verse. Light is absorbed in its passage
to us; and the stars are distributed with
nothing approaching the uniformity
which the speculation demands. The
second point needs no proof.
The
irregular structure of our stellar system
is familiar enough; and there is not the
slightest scientific difficulty about sup
posing that other stellar worlds may be
separated from ours by immeasurable
deserts of space. As to the absorption
of light, a number of causes are pointed
out. In the first place, we now know that
there are dark as well as luminous stars.
No astronomer supposes that these are
less numerous than the light stars. Sir
Robert Ball thinks they are so much
more numerous that to count the stars
by the light and visible spheres would be
like estimating the number of horse
shoes in England by the number of
those which are red-hot at a given
moment. These dark stars must inter
cept the light of their incandescent
fellows.1 Dr. Maunder says that if we
take them as a basis of our calculation
1 In his second article Dr. Wallace replies
that Mr. Monckhas shown that, even if the dark
stars were 150,000 times more numerous than
the light ones, the sky would, if these were in
finite, be as bright as moonlight. Once more
Dr. Wallace omits a condition stipulated by his
authority, who says this would be so- if they
“were distributed in anything approaching a
similar density.” For that we have no assurance
whatever. Moreover, Dr. Wallace almost ignore
the other and more important sources of absorp
tion.
�104
THE POSITION OF' DR. A. R. WALLACE
we could prove that “we are shut in by
a veil wnich no light from an infinite
distance could pierce.”
But in addition to these incalculable
dark stars there are other sources of
absorption. The astronomer to whom
Dr. Wallace appeals, Mr. Monck, holds
that ether itself absorbs light. At any
rate we know that space is full of cosmic
dust—meteorites, etc.—and that this
must be an important source of ab
sorption. Mr. Monck says that, “ if
sufficiently remote, the star would thus
for all practical purposes be blotted out.”
And Sir N. Lockyer also emphasises this
factor. Moreover, we have just learned
a further source. Before Newcomb’s
latest work was published, in February,
1901, a new cosmic element was dis
covered in the shape of a dark nebula.
Certain peculiarities of a new star led to
the discovery that it was surrounded by
a nebula that reflected its light. Thus,
we have the presence in space of another
and powerful screen in the shape of dark
nebulae, the number and distribution of
which we are unable to conjecture. Our
universe is something infinitely removed
from that theoretical system to which
Professor Newcomb’s calculations might
apply. Ihus, once more, does the very
latest science come to our assistance.
We may add that, even apart from the
absorption of light and the irregular dis
tribution of the stars, the calculation is
enfeebled by another possibility. We
have no proof that ether is continuous
throughout infinite space. There may
be several galaxies or stellar systems,
unconnected by ether, so that one would
not be visible to another. Assuming
that (according to a calculation of Lord
Kelvin’s) there are a thousand million
stars in our system, “there may be,”
says Flammarion, “ a second thousand
beyond an immense void, or a third, or
fourth or more.” And, finally, Professor
Pickering has shown that, even with a
continuous infinite ether, our present
star-light is quite consistent with the
existence of an infinite number of
luminous stars, “ if the distance between
the stars becomes (on the average)
greater the farther we go from the solar
system,” if we assume this to be central.
Thus the most emphatic of Dr.
Wallace s proofs has been absolutely
riddled by expert astronomical opinion.
It is “ founded,” says Dr. Maunder, “ on
a careless reading of Professor New
comb s book,” and cannot be sustained
for a moment.1 Nor is his other line of
argument more capable of defence. He
urges that, although up to a certain point
an increase in the power of the telescope
reveals new worlds in greater number,
this increase is not sustained in the case
of our largest telescopes; and, in the
case of photographs of the stars, an
exposure beyond three or four hours does
not bring us into touch with an increas
ing number of worlds. From this he
would infer that the powerful instru
ments we use to-day have exhausted the
universe and brought us to its extremities.
If the number of stars were infinite, an
increase of power or exposure should
always reveal new worlds. Once more,
Dr. Wallace has drawn his conclusion
too precipitately. In the first place, as I
said, there is the possibility of other
systems being cut off from ours by
empty space. But there is a simpler
and readier answer to his argument. The
fact to which he appeals—in so far as it
is fact; a study of the long-exposure
photographs of Dr. Isaacs by no means
sustains it 2—really means that we are
approaching the limit of the effective
range of the telescope, not the limit of
objective reality. Every increase in the
aperture of a refracting telescope means
1 Nor is Professor Newcomb’s book itself above
dispute, great as is the authority of the writer.
Mr. R. A. Gregory, reviewing it in Nature
(March, 1902), says that “ the outlook described
is not only limited, but imperfect,” and points
out a number of errors in it.
2 In his second article Dr. Wallace appeals to
these photographs, but makes it clear that he
has in mind photographs of nebulae and star
clusters. It is obvious that there must be a limit
to the number of stars in a given cluster or
nebula; but the eight-hour exposure photo
graphs of other parts of the heavens read
differently.
�105
THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
an increase in the absorption of light by
the lens itself. We are, Dr. Maunder
says, approaching the limit beyond which
the absorption will neutralise the advan
tage of a large objective. So in the case
of stellar photography, it is only when
we deal with “ medium luminosities ”
that a longer exposure avails. Thus Dr.
Wallace not only exaggerates the fact—
Mr. Monck, for instance, speaks of
“ the constant detection of additional
stars by more powerful instruments ”—
but he misinterprets its significance. He
has not, says M. Moye, “brought any
convincing proof against the universe
being infinite.”
“ Space cannot be
otherwise than infinite,” says M. Flammarion; a limit to either space or time
is unthinkable. The latest researches
of astronomers bring us no nearer than
ever to a limit of the material universe.
Dr. Wallace’s second point, that our
planet occupies a significant central
position in the universe, collapses of
itself when he fails to prove that that
universe is finite. There is no centre
in infinity. But, as Dr. Wallace has
committed the radical error of “ reason
ing from the area we see to the infinite,”
it is at least interesting to examine how
far our sun may be described as occupy
ing a central position in the vast stellar
combination we call the Milky Way.
Now, it has long been obvious that our
sun is roughly in the centre of this huge
system. We have only to glance at the
great belt of light the system forms around
us in the heavens to see this.
But
astronomers once more totally reject the
expression of this fact which Dr. Wallace
presents.
The system is so irregular
in structure that we could not with pro
priety assign a definite centre to it if our
knowledge were greater than it is. You
may talk of the centre of a bowl, says
Professor Turner, but you cannot talk of
the centre of a saucepan ; and there is
a projection of the system visible in the
southern heavens which answers to the
“handle” in this figure. Flammarion
believes there are clusters in the heavens
that do not belong to our system at all.
Moreover, even if we consent to speak
of a “ centre ” of this irregular structure,
with its clefts and projections, it is wholly
inaccurate to say that our sun is awarded
that position by astronomy. Mr. Monck
doubts “ if any astronomer could go
within one thousand light years of the
centre of the star system as at present
known ” ; that is to say, in non-technical
language, no astronomer would venture
to assign a centre within the broad limit
of 6000 billion miles ! Other astronomers
think it clear that we are nearer one side
of the system than its opposite, and
point out that if the motion of our sun
(about ten miles a second) is in a curve
determined by gravitation (as it surely is)
round the centre of gravity of the solar
system, it must be at an enormous dis
tance from that centre, as we can learn
from the analogy of motion in a globular
cluster.
All agree that we have no
greater right to consider ourselves in a
central position than are fifty other suns,
the nearest of which is twenty-five billion
miles away from us.
Thus Dr. Wallace has once more
considerably strained the evidence in
order to vindicate a central position for us.
But there is a further consideration
which must be taken into account.
Our sun is calculated by astronomers to
be travelling through space at about ten
miles per second. Dr. Wallace seeks to
enfeeble this doctrine of astronomy,
when it is turned against him, by urging
that the motion is relative; it may be
the stars that move while we remain
stationary. That is to say, he would
suggest an anomalous character for our
sun without a shadow of proof and
in direct opposition to the law of gravita
tion, which he himself invokes at other
times. The idea of a vast central sun,
round which all the stars in the Milky
Way would revolve, as planets do round
a sun, has been long since rejected by
astronomers. Its mass would have to
be incalculable; and the mass of our
sun is small compared with that of its
measurable neighbours. To save itself
) _ from being sucked in (or impelled
H
�106
THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
towards) its gigantic double and triple
neighbours it must move. It is probable
that it follows a curved path round the
common centre of gravity of our system
(not a central mass). In any case the
curve of its path is so great that
astronomers can as yet detect no curve
at all. It follows that, if to-day we
happen to occupy a central position, it is
only a temporary occupation. Many of
Dr. Wallace’s critics argued on the sup
position that our path lay in a straight
line through the universe, but others
pointed out the probable curve, so that
Dr. Wallace does not escape the point
by rejecting rectilinear motion. He had
argued that the special advantages which
this supposed central position gave to
our sun had been enjoyed by it during
the whole period of the evolution of
life. Astronomy wholly discredits that
assumption even when we bear in mind
all that he urges as to the relativity of
cosmic movements.
Let us next examine the advantages
which our planet is supposed by Dr.
Wallace to possess in the way of habita
bility. The conditions of life which he
enumerates are the usual conditions of a
certain temperature (say, between o° C.
and 75° C.), a circulation of water, and
an atmosphere of proper density and
extent to effect this. Our own distance
from the sun, with an atmosphere and
tidal movements to equalise the distri
bution of heat and cold, ensures a
moderate temperature. Our deep, per
manent oceans hold a supply of water,
which is admirably circulated by the
heat of the sun, controlled by the atmo
sphere, and assisted by the dust which
our deserts and volcanoes largely con
tribute.. Thus we have, he thinks, in
the position of our planet, its distribution
of land and water, its atmosphere, its
satellite, and its physical features, a com
bination of favourable circumstances
that is not likely to be found elsewhere,
The distance of the other planets from
the sun is either too great or too little.
Atmosphere is largely determined by
mass, and so Mars is in this respect dis
qualified. Venus has no moon, and
this “ may alone render it quite incapable
of developing high forms of life.” We
know, he says, with “ almost complete
certainty” that this combination of
favourable conditions is not found on
any other.planet in our solar system.
To this series of affirmations the
expert astronomical critics oppose a very
decided series of negatives. “In our
solar system,” says Flammarion, “this
little earth has not obtained any special
privileges from Nature.” M. Moye re
gards our earth and sun as “ very or
dinary orbs, having no special character
istics, and as no more suitable for life
than innumerable other suns and
planets.” Mr. Mo.nck has “sufficient
faith in the principle of evolution to
think that man might accommodate
himself to the conditions of life on
almost any of the planets, provided that
the change were sufficiently gradual, and
a sufficient time were allowed to elapse ”
It is true that Miss Clerke says, “ Dr.
Wallace’s contention, that our earth is
unique as being the abode of intellectual
life, corresponds in a measure with the
recent trend of astronomical research.”
Miss Clerke, it is not impertinent to
observe, approaches the subject with the
same prejudice as Dr. Wallace about the
uniqueness of man, but the phrase “ in
a measure ” saves the passage from in
accuracy.; and she later makes an ex
ception in favour of Mars. But the
whole, idea of seeking identical condi
tions in other planets is erroneous. “ To
limit the work of Nature to the sphere of
our knowledge is,” says Flammarion,
“to reason with singular childishness.”
They are of the same material as earth,
and have been evolved by the same
forces; there is likely to be a general
likeness of features, and that is enough
for our purpose, when we remember the
infinite adaptability of the life force.
M. Moye examines in detail the condi
tions Dr. Wallace lays down, and points
out many errors. To say that Mars is
disqualified on account of its smaller
mass than the earth is “ a purely
�THE POSITION OF DR. A. R. WALLACE
gratuitous assumption.” Aqueous va
pour has been detected by the spectro
scope in the atmospheres of at least
Venus and Jupiter. Tidal motion is
caused by the sun as well as the moon,
and may be so caused in Venus ; nor is
it essential to life. “ The distance from
the sun to the earth in the general, plan
of Our solar system is not peculiar or
extraordinary in any way.”
While,
as to deserts, each of the other planets
must, on Wallace’s theory, be one
vast desert; nor have we any ground
for thinking that deep, permanent
oceans are a peculiar feature of our
planet.
It would, of course, be no more than
an interesting discovery, of no grave
consequence to Monism, if our planet
were proved to be the only habitable
body in our solar system; but astronomers
utterly discountenance-the idea. “Life
is universal and eternal,” says Flammarion, almost in the words of Haeckel.
“ Yesterday the moon, to-day the earth,
to-morrow Jupiter . . . Let us open the
eyes of our understanding, and. let us
look beyond ourselves in the infinite
expanse at life and intelligence in all its
degrees in endless evolution.”
Professor Turner points out that Dr.
Wallace has completely failed to show,
after all his laborious proof of our central
position, that this would give our earth
any advantage in the way of habitability.
He says that Dr. Wallace, “with the
deftness of a conjurer,” has substituted
for this question a discussion of the
impossibility of there being life at the con
fines of the universe. It is true that Dr.
Wallace has since admitted that he had
no proof to offer at the time, but will
present one in his forthcoming work.
However, we may profitably close with a
glance at his attempt to prove that, life
is impossible towards the imagined
limits of our system. Even his fellow
io7
spiritualist, Miss A. Clerke, protests that
“ it cannot be reasonably supposed that
the conditions of vitality deteriorate with
remoteness from the centre ; and Dr.
Wallace has been forced to admit that
the reasons he suggested were ill-con
sidered and erroneous. He surmised
that gravitation might be less at the
verge of the system; which is not only
“ a pure assumption,” but is opposed by
our knowledge of the most distant
double stars. He compares the move
ments of the stars with the molecules of
a gas, and is eventually compelled to
acknowledge that “ there is probably no
justification for the idea.” And he quite
gratuitously supposes that. the action of
electric and similar rays is different at
the edge of our stellar system than it is
elsewhere.
■
We may conclude, then, that Dr.
Wallace’s excursion into astronomy has
been singularly and painfully disastrous.
In general and in detail his theory is
shattered to fragments by the criticisms
of all the experts who join in the discus
sion. The idea of man’s spiritual unique
ness obtains no support whatever from
the great cosmic investigations of ‘ the
new astronomy.” On the contrary, the
most recent discoveries and speculations
confirm the “ cosmological perspective
which Haeckel urges in his Riddle of the
Universe. We have no ground in
scientific evidence for assigning limits of
time or space to the material universe,
we have no ground for believing that
man is a unique outcome of natural
evolution, and that “ the supreme end
and purpose of the vast universe was
the production and development of the
living soul in the perishable body of
man”; and we have no. ground for
thinking there is so peculiar a combina
tion of circumstances in our planet as
to force us to appeal to a Supreme
Intelligence.
�LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
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Chapter
XI
MB fail: : ■ < 1
LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
Whilst this storm of astronomical
indignation was beating about the luck
less pronouncement of Dr. A. R. Wallace,
the second intervention on behalf of
religion, of which I spoke, took place.
Once more, it is important to observe,
the intervention consisted of a declara
tion by a distinguished scientist that
some science other than his own tended
to support conventional religion by its
recent investigations. Dr. Wallace, the
naturalist, purported to speak for as
tronomy ; and we have seen what the
astronomers themselves made of his
declarations. Lord Kelvin, the most
distinguished living physicist, assured
the world that biology was coming to
recognise a field of phenomena with
which it was so incompetent to deal that
it was retreating to the old notion of a
“vital principle” and the action of
“Creative Power.” We have now to
see what our biologists had to say about
this statement of their attitude.
The circumstances of Lord Kelvin’s
pronouncement will be easily recalled.
Certain of the students of the University
College, London, have formed them
selves, or been formed, into a “ Christian
Association,” and have lately set about
“ converting ” their less religious fellows
to the belief in their particular cosmic
speculations. A series of lectures was
arranged for the spring of this year, the
Botanical Theatre of the University
College was somehow secured, and a
certain show of scientific names was
scattered over the programme. The
first lecture was by the Rev. Professor
Henslow (M.A., F.L.S., F.G.S.), and
a vote of thanks was accorded to the
lecturer by Lord Kelvin for his “ examina
tion of Darwinism.” The second lecture,
on “ The Book of Genesis,” was given by
the Dean of Canterbury, and the chair
was taken by Sir Robert Anderson
(K.C.B., LL.D.). The Rev. Professor
Margoliouth gave the third lecture, on
“The Synoptic Gospels,” and was sup
ported by a distinguished physician (Sir
Dyce Duckworth) and a military man.
The other two lectures were also given
by reverend lecturers, and were supported
by Sir T. Barlow, M.D., and Mr.
Augustine Birrell. Lord Kelvin was the
lion of the display, and his few closing
words were at once published from end
to end of England. He claimed that
“modern biologists were coming once
.more to the acceptance of something,
and that was a vital principle.” He
asked : “ Was there anything so absurd
as to believe that a number of atoms by
falling together of their own accord
could make a crystal, a sprig of moss, a
microbe, a living animal?” And he
concluded that this was an appeal to
“creative power.” On the following day
he re-affirmed his opinion, with a distinc
tion, in a letter to the Times. He wrote :
“ I desire to point out that while ‘ fortui
tous concourse of atoms ’ is not an inap
propriate description of the formation of
a crystal, it is utterly absurd in respect
to the coming into existence, or the
growth, or the continuation of the
molecular combinations presented in the
bodies of living things. Here scientific
thought is compelled to accept the idea
of Creative Power. Forty years ago I
asked Liebig, walking somewhere in the
country, if he believed that the grass
and flowers which we saw around us
grew by mere mechanical forces. He
answered, ‘No, no more than I could
believe that a book of botany describing
them could grow by mere chemical
forces.’ ”
�LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
The echo of this sturdy utterance is
still reverberating through the provinces,
soothing the anxious feelings of thou
sands of believers, and being triumph
antly quoted against the unbeliever. In
London its echo was quickly drowned in
a chorus of condemnation.
Lord
Kelvin’s letter was at once followed in
the Times by letters from three of our
most eminent experts on the subject he
had ventured to touch, as well as by
letters from Mr. W. H. Mallock, Profes
sor Karl Pearson, and Sir O. Lodge.
The three experts unanimously con
demned Lord Kelvin’s statement, as did
also Mr. Mallock and Professor Pearson ;
and even Sir O. Lodge said that “ his
wording was more appropriate to a
speech than a philosophical essay,” it
had a “subjective interest,” but he
“ would not use the phrase himself.” Sir
W. T. Thiselton-Dyer, our most dis
tinguished botanist, complained that
Lord Kelvin “ wiped out by a stroke of
the pen the whole position won for us
by Darwin,” said that the reference to a
fortuitous concourse of atoms was
“ scarcely worthy of Lord Kelvin,” and
“ denied the fact ” that “ modern biolo
gists were coming to accept the vital
principle.” Sir J. Burdon-Sanderson,
the Regius Professor of Medicine at
Oxford, while resenting the strong terms
of Sir W. T. Thiselton-Dyer’s censure of
Lord Kelvin’s personal procedure, said
that it had been demonstrated to the
satisfaction of physiologists that “ the
natural laws which had been established
in the inorganic world govern no less
absolutely the processes of animal and
plant life, thus giving the death-blow to
the previously prevalent vitalistic doctrine
that these operations of life are domi
nated by law$ which are special to them
selves.” Professor Karl Pearson was
astonished that an institution with
accredited professors in biology “ should
open its doors to irresponsible lecturers
on ‘ directivity,’ ” and said that “ if Lord
Kelvin wishes to attack Darwinism, let
him leave the field of emotional theo
logical belief and descend into the plane
109
where straightforward biological argu
ment meets like argument.”
'
Professor E. Ray Lankester, from the
side of zoology, said : “ I do not myself
know of anyone of admitted leadership
among modern biologists who is showing
signs of ‘ coming to a belief in the exist
ence of a vital principle,’ ” and that “we
biologists, knowing the paralysing in
fluence of such hypotheses in the past,
are unwilling to have anything to do
with a ‘ vital principle,’ even though
Lord Kelvin erroneously thinks we are
coming to it,” and “ we take no stock in
these mysterious entities.” Sir O. Lodge,
drawn by an allusion to his belief in
telepathy, took occasion to disclaim and
deprecate Lord Kelvin’s use of the
phrases “ creative power ” and “ fortui
tous concourse of atoms.”
With these weighty and emphatic
pronouncements from some of the ablest
biologists in this country—without. a
single line in defence of Lord Kelvin,
either by himself or by any known ex
pert—we might dismiss Lord Kelvin’s
intervention as the most unfortunate
episode of his career, and as a pitiful
failure to give the slenderest support to
the reverend lecturers of the Christian
Association. But an appeal to authori
ties is a fallacious and unsatisfactory
settlement. We shall better vindicate
the strength of Haeckel’s position by a
brief analysis of this most recent attempt
to demolish it.
Let us see, then, first what truth there
is in the statement that “ modern biolo
gists are coming once more to a firm
acceptance of the vital principle.”
This three of our most representative
biologists, Sir W. T. Thiselton-Dyer, Pro
fessor Ray Lankester, and Sir J. BurdonSanderson, flatly deny. Clearly Lord
Kelvin was guilty of the gravest impro
priety in saying that “ modern biologists
are coming,” &c., and “scientific thought
is compelled,” &c. The implication of
these phrases is obvious, and it is totally
untrue. When Professor Ray Lankester,
one of the most distinguished biologists,
tells us he does “ not know of anyone
�IIO
LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
of admitted leadership among modern
biologists” who is accepting the vital
principle, it is clear that the statement
was gravely misleading. That there is
a certain revival of vitalistic ideas is
another matter. The clergy need not
have waited for Lord Kelvin’s assurance
to that effect. In the fourteenth chapter
of the Riddle of the Universe Professor
Haeckel long since informed us of that
revival. It would not be surprising—
ironic as the circumstance would be—to
learn that Lord Kelvin obtained the grain
of fact which underlay his assertion
from Haeckel’s book. In all countries
there have been of late years a few
scientific men of secondary rank who
have urged the acceptance of something
more or less resembling the old vital
force. Professor Lionel Beale and Dr.
Mivart are well-known advocates of
“ vitality” in this country; several French
biologists still speak of the vague idee
directrice which Pasteur imagined to
control the growth of the organism; in
America, Cope and Asa Gray advocate a
form of vitalism ; in Germany it is urged
by Nageli, Bunge, Rindfieisch, Dreisch,
and Benedikt, in Italy (more or less) by
Gallardi, in Denmark by the botanist
Reinke. The ideas of these writers
differ considerably, but they agree in
holding that some directive or “domi
nant ” principle must be superadded to
the physical and chemical forces of the
organism.
We have seen in an earlier chapter
how “modern biologists” as a class,
and “ scientific thought ” as a whole,
wholly reject the vitalistic hypothesis,
and maintain that we have no reason to
go beyond ordinary natural forces. We
have seen what Professor Le Conte,
Professor Ward, Sir A. Riicker, Sir J.
Burdon-Sanderson, Professor Dewar, and
others, say of the condition of “scientific
thought.” “For the future the word
vital, as distinctive of physiological pro
cesses, might be abandoned altogether,”
said Sir J. Burdon-Sanderson, and our
recent authorities fully concur with him.
Professor Beale is one of those scientists
who would sing a joyful Nunc Dimittis
if he saw any important sign of the
revival of vitalism. But if Lord Kelvin
consults his most recent publications
he will find only a deepening of the
pessimism which Professor Beale has
expressed on the matter for the last
twenty years. In Vitality— V, published
two years ago, he tells us the very
reverse of the assurance of Lord Kelvin.
“Probably no hypotheses or doctrines
known to philosophy or science,” he
says in his preface, “have been so
generally favoured, and more persistently
forced on the public by ‘Authority,’ and
therefore widely accepted and taught by
educated and intelligent persons, than
doctrines of physical life and its origin
in non-living matter ” (p. vii); and later
he says: “Purely mechanical views of
life are again, possibly for the last time,
becoming very popular” (p. 5). Further
on he quotes Professor Dolbear as say
ing (in his Matter, Ether, and Motion)
that “ there is little reason to doubt that
when chemists shall be able to form the
substance Protoplasm it will possess all
the properties it is now known to have,
including what is called life; and one
ought not to be surprised at its announce
ment any day”; and he refers us to the
appendix of Professor Dolbear’s book
for a long list of weighty pronounce
ments in favour of the mechanical hypo
thesis. We may, therefore, dismiss once
for all the attempt to commit “ modern
biologists,” as a class, to a belief in vital
principles and creative powers as a
serious, though unintentional, misstate
ment—one that it is painful to find over
the name of Lord Kelvin.
Haeckel was perfectly right. He
awarded a larger proportion to Neo
Vitalism than any of our own biologists
(even Dr. Beale) are prepared to do, but
he rightly claimed that the mechanical
view of life was the predominant one in
biology to-day. Sir W. T. ThiseltonDyer, writing of Huxley {Nature, June
5th, 1902), said: “Huxley was firmly
imbued with what is ordinarily called a
‘ materialistic conception’ of the universe.
�LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
I think myself that this is probably a
true view.” The representation that
Haeckel is alone, or almost alone, in his
view of life is a gross and audacious misrepresentation.
And when we come to examine on its
merits this revival of vitalism—such as
it is—we find it has no promise what
ever of gaining wide scientific recogni
tion, because it rests essentially on a
familiar fallacy. The reader who wishes
to study the grounds of it may consult
Professor Beale’s various editions of his
Vitality, or Reinke’s Welt als That, or
Dreisch’s Die organischen Regulationen,
where all the evidence of the NeoVitalists is ably mastered. Happily it is
not necessary for us to cover the whole
ground of this evidence even superfi
cially. As we saw in the case of teleology,
the principle of the argument is one,
however infinite may be its applications;
and it is the principle itself that lacks
logical validity. There are, the NeoVitalist urges, scores of features of the
life of the animal or plant that the
biologist cannot explain by chemical and
physical forces ; therefore we must have
recourse to a non-mechanical or new kind
of force—an idee directrice, a “ domi
nant,” a “ vital power,” and so forth.
What these inexplicable phenomena are
we need not consider at any length;
they are such phenomena as—the pro
cesses of segmentation and differentia
tion in the growth of the embryo, the
selection of food from the blood or sur
rounding media, the replacing of tissues
or organs that have been cut away (in the
hydra, the newt, and even higher
animals), the formation by an animal of
a protective anti-toxin, the acquisition of
protective mimicry, the power of adapta
tion in organs to changes in environ
ment, and so on.
There are, every
biologist admits, scores of phenomena
which are not as yet capable of ex
planation by mechanical forces ; and the
new vitalist urges that these point to the
presence of a specific principle in the
animal or plant. “ Up to this day,”
says Professor Beale, “ no cause, no ex
in
planation, can be found, and therefore
we attribute those vital phenomena to
Power—to Power which is special and
peculiar to life only, power which we
know cannot be derived from matter.
Is it not, therefore, perfectly reasonable
to believe that all vital power has come
direct from God?”1
The reader will at once recognise the
principle of the argument. It is that
familiar sophism which has made the the
istic doctrine “ a fugitive and vagabond”
(to borrow the words of Dr. Iverach) in
scientific territory for the last century or
more. It is the sophism that Laplace
expelled from astronomy, Lyell from
geology, Darwin from phylogeny, and
that we have found desperately clinging
to every little imperfection of our scien
tific knowledge of the universe. It is a
philosophy of “ gaps.” It is the familiar
procedure of taking advantage of the
temporary imperfectness of science. It
is an argument that has been wholly
discredited by the advance of science,
sweeping it from position after position;
it is as superficial philosophically as it
is unsound in logic and prejudicial in
science. “The action of physical and
chemical forces in living bodies can
never be understood,” said Sir A. Rucker,
“ if at every difficulty and at every check
in our investigations we desist from
further attempts in the belief that the
laws of physics and chemistry have been
interfered with by an incomprehensible
vital force.” “ The revival of the vitalistic conception in physiological work,”
said the president of the physiological
section (Prof. Halliburton, M.D., F.R.S.)
at the British Association meeting of
1902, “appears to me a retrograde step.
To explain anything we are not fully
able to understand in the light of physics
and chemistry by labelling it as vital, or
something we can never hope to under. )
1 Dr. Beale’s last conclusion is not, of course^
shared by the continental Neo-Vitalists. Even
if we were forced to admit a specific vital prin
ciple, it would not “come from God” any more
than other natural forces. But the analogy with
I Lord Kelvin’s vague phraseology is noticeable.
�112
lord kelvin intervenes
stand, is a confession of ignorance, and,
what is still more harmful, a bar to
progress. ... I am hopeful that the
scientific workers of the future will
discover that this so-called vital force
is due to certain physical or chemical
properties of living matter, which have
not yet been brought into line with the
known chemical and physical laws that
operate in the inorganic world. . . .
When a scientific man says this or that
vital phenomenon cannot be explained
by the laws of chemistry and physics, and
therefore must be regulated by laws of
some other nature, he most unjustifiably
assumes that the laws of chemistry and
physics have all been discovered.” “We
think,” says Prof. Ray Lankester, “ it is
a more hopeful method to be patient
and to seek by observation of, and ex
periment with, the phenomena of growth
and development to trace the evolution
of life and of living things without
the facile and sterile hypothesis of a
vital principle.” If we accepted it,
says Weismann, “we should at once
cut ourselves off from all possible
mechanical explanation of organic
nature.”
It is very difficult to reconcile Lord
Kelvin’s present attitude with the prin
ciple he laid down in 1871, and pre
sumably still holds. . “Science,” he said,
“is bound by the everlasting law of
honour to face fearlessly every problem
which is presented to it. If a probable
solution, consistent with the ordinary
course of nature, can be found, we must
not invoke an abnormal act of Creative
Power.” Prof. Dewar reproduced this
passage in this very application in his
presidential speech of last year; and
within a few months we find Lord Kelvin
approving the attitude of those few
biologists who depart from that principle
to-day, and, impatient at the slow growth
of our knowledge, rush to the conclusion
that science must abandon this portion
of the cosmological domain to the
theologian once more. Lord Kelvin
quotes Liebig, who was not a biologist,
and who lived in an earlier scientific
period.1 But immense progress has been
made since Liebig’s day in the mechani
cal interpretation of life.2 Lord Kelvin
also would have us think that the only
alternative to the “vital principle” is “the
fortuitous concourse of atoms.” Even
Sir O. Lodge is stirred to protest against
this descent from the level of science to
the level of Christian Evidence lecturing.
We have seen that science discovers
only the work of fixed, determinate
forces, not erratic and confused agencies.
“The whole order of nature,” says Prof.
Ray Lankester, “ including living and
lifeless matter—man, animal, and gas —
is a network of mechanism.” There is
nothing “fortuitous” whatever in the
concourse of atoms.”
We have, then, to set aside the un
fortunate and undefended utterance of
Lord Kelvin, and the claims of old3 It is not a little amusing to find that this
famous German chemist, whom Lord Kelvin
introduces as a friend to Christian Associations
in England, was regarded as an atheist by similar
bodies in Germany in his own time. When
Bishop Ketteler urged the Grand-Duke of Hesse
to take restrictive measures against materialists,
the Grand-Duke pointed out that Liebig had
recently undertaken to refute them. “ Don’t
make too much of that, your highness,” said
Ketteler; “ Liebig is a materialist himself at
the bottom of his heart.” (Buchner’s Last Words
on Materialism, p. 42.)
2 Dr. Horton assures us, about Haeckel’s
carbon-theory, that “ no leading man of science
treats it seriously, and it only has its whimsical
and uncertain place in the rationalist Press which
gulls the ignorance of the public.” One wonders
what it is not possible to say from a pulpit.
Compare the words of the expert reviewer of
Professor Ver worn’s Biogen-hypothese in Nature
(February 26, 1902): “ It seems quite clear from
the results of numerous investigators that, what
ever the nature of the sequence of chemical
events, the carbohydrates are proximately the
substances that are most intimately affected.”
Let me add here also a reference to a letter from
Sir O. Lodge to Nature (December 4, 1902)
in which he points out the possibility of germs
being preserved intact in the cold of space. It
was thereupon shown, not only that Lord Kel
vin’s old hypothesis of the origin of life assumed
a new importance, but that, as W. J. Calder
said, “if it is proved that vitality can survive
for a protracted period in such circumstances,
the conclusion that it is a molecular function
seems inevitable.” The most recent experiments
of life at very low temperatures confirm this.
�LORD KELVIN INTERVENES
11.3
those laws.” Thus life becomes “ some
thing the full significance of which lies
in another scheme of things, but which
touches and interacts with the material
universe in a certain way, building its
particles into notable configurations for
a time—oak, eagle, man—and then
evaporating whence it came.”
The objections to Sir O. Lodges
theory (which seems to be not unlike
that vaguely suggested by Pasteur.) may
be well indicated by following his own
words. He will not admit that life is a
form of energy (thus rejecting both the
old Vitalist and the Monistic theories)
because “ energy can transform itself
into other forces, remaining constant in
quantity, whereas life does not transmute
itself into any form of energy, nor does
death affect the sum of energy m any
way.” The sentence is hardly consis
tent. If death has not affected the sum
of energy it must have transmuted it, for
most certainly the energies in the dead
body differ from those of the living. To
assume that the energies are the same,
but that which differs is not. energy, looks
like a begging of the question. Indeed,
it is impossible to conceive life otherwise
than as energy. We might regard the
structure as a static force in. Sir Oliver’s
sense, but there must be a living energy
in addition. The death of the animal is
like the death of the motor-car. The
energy has been transmuted, or has re
turned into the elemental forms belong
ing to the several parts of the now irre
parable structure. Then,.as a later writer
in Nature points out, it is the place and
the ambition of science to explain the
direction or determination of working
energy as well as the origin of the energy.
Sir Oliver gives the illustration of a stone
falling over the cliff; it may make a
harmless dent in the sand, or it may be
guided to the firing of a charge of
1 At the eleventh hour I discover a lengthy
dynamite. So with the passage of a pen
reference to the Riddle of the Universe in an
over paper ; it may make a series of un-,
obscure corner (p. 65) of Dr. Beale’s Vitality ■ V.,
meaning daubs (if it rolls mechanically)
so that the announcement in the I'imes was not
or it may be guided in the signing of a
wholly in vain. But as the notice does not con
tain a line of definite and tangible refutation of
treaty of war or peace. But it is in each
any statement in the Riddle I am compelled to
one of these cases the function of scien-
fashioned Vitalists like Dr. Beale1 and
Neo-Vitalists like Reinke. Our knowledge
of vital phenomena, and of chemical
and physical forces, is as yet.very imper
fect. The vitalist hypothesis supposes
that our knowledge is complete, and that
we clearly see certain features of life to
be beyond the range of mechanical
explanation.
We see ourselves how
illogical and temporary such a position
is, and we are not surprised to find the
leading biologists standing solid with
Prof. Haeckel for a mechanical interpre
tation and mechanical origin.
Sir O. Lodge, the persuasive and able
and ever courteous leader of the
Birmingham University, offers another
version of Neo-Vitalism which it is
proper to consider. In a paper which
he read to the Synthetic Society at
London on February 20 of this year
(published in Nature, April 23) he
observes that “ if guidance or control
can be admitted into the scheme by no
means short of refuting or modifying the
laws of motion, there may be. every
expectation that the attitude of scientific
men will be perennially hostile to the
idea of guidance or control.” He there
fore proposes a theory of guidance (to
apply to the divine guidance of the
world, the human will, and the vital
principle) without interference. He dis
tinguishes between force and energy—or
static and dynamic power. A column
supporting a building, or a channel guid
ing a stream, is a force, but does not
produce energy. The action of life is to
be conceived as that, “of a groove, or
slot, or channel, or guide.” “ Guidance
and control are not forms of energy,
and their superposition upon the scheme
of physics perturbs physical, and
mechanical laws no whit, though it may
profoundly affect the consequences of
forego the pleasure of dealing with it.
Bishopsgate InstitntOo
�ii4
MR. MALLOCICS OLIVE-BRANCH
tific explanation to trace the energies
which determine the line of motion as
well as to trace their origin and proper
motion. We cannot conceive of energies
being directed except by energies. In
the case of the upbuilding of an organism
it is impossible to conceive the particles
being guided to their several places, or
the energies being impelled to put them
in their several places, by something
that is not an energy. In the parallelism
which Sir Oliver suggests we can only
see “ life ” as a superfluous partner. If
the mechanical scheme is complete, as
he seems to suggest it will be, it must
contain an explanation of the direction
of energy. To say otherwise is to declare
again the inadequacy of mechanical
theory (solely because its ever-growing
material is as yet comparatively scanty)
and to court the “perennial hostility”
of men of science.
Thus the second attempt to prove that
Haeckel’s views rest on “ the science of
yesterday,” and are contradicted by the
science of to-day, fails as ignominiously
as did that of Dr. Wallace. Our leading
biologists declare emphatically that they
and their science accept the mechanical,
if not (as Sir W. T. Thiselton-Dyer says)
the materialistic view of life. This inter
pretation of life must for some time to
come leave unexplained considerable
tracts of vital phenomena. Haeckel has
never pretended that he “ has explained
everything.” But so far as our know
ledge goes, we find only ordinary natural
forces at work in the living organism,
and we should be wholly unjustified in
the present condition of science in
assuming that they are incompetent to
explain the whole of life. We gain no
thing whatever philosophically by simply
sticking the label “vital” on these
mysterious phenomena, and we are
forbidden by the elementary laws of
logic and scientific procedure to bring
in such entities as “creative power”
and “vital principles” as long as
“a solution consistent with the or
dinary course of Nature ” can be
suggested.
:
• fl!
Chapter XII
MR. MALLOCK’S OLIVE-BRANCH
The last critic of Haeckel’s position
last, that is to say, in the logical order
which it seems expedient to follow—is
the distinguished essayist, Mr. W. H.
Mallock. Professor Haeckel, it will be
remembered, intended his work to be,
not only a comprehensive statement of
his views, but a summary of the issues
of the. many conflicts between religion
and science in which he had played so
conspicuous a part during the nineteenth
century. Mr. Mallock, declaring that
neither theologian nor scientist was
competent to analyse those issues quite
impartially, undertook, as a neutral
observer, to balance the controversial
ledgers of the departed century on his
own account. It may be granted that
Mr. Mallock occupies a position of some
advantage for the discharge of this
function. . He is adequately informed,
philosophic in temper, and neutral in
the sense that he clearly does not
believe in theology, yet strongly opposes
the final conclusions of the scientists.
To use an expressive colloquial phrase,
�MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
he has sat on the fence throughout the
last forty years, and shot his sharp
criticisms at the combatants on both
sides with a certain impartiality. . But
those who are acquainted with his at
tractive writings know that he has really
only riddled the theologians for their
ultimate advantage ; whilst he has at
tacked the Agnostics in the interest of
religion. However, an analysis of his
last publication, Religion as a Credible
Doctrine, will serve not only to clear up
the popular mystery about his position,
but to show us an interesting plea for
the retention of theology, even admitting
that we have fully established the theses
of the preceding chapter.
Mr. Mallock emphatically rejects the
idea of hampering scientists on their
own territory, and he fully admits that
H the whole cosmological domain ” is
their territory. ? He would have no
sympathy with efforts, like those of
Dr. Wallace and Lord Kelvin, to restrict
the ambition of the mechanical theory,
Or to try to wrest some shred of evi
dence for theism out of the teaching of
science. We shall see that he falls away
from his ideal here and there, but in his
deliberate mood he fully accepts the
conclusion that, on scientific and philo
sophic evidence, “the whole world”—
in the words of Huxley—“living and
non-living, is the result of the mutual
interaction, according to definite laws,
of the powers possessed' by the mole
cules of which the primitive nebulosity
was composed.” I have, in fact, freely
drawn upon Mr. Mallock s excellent
book for support in the vindication of
Professor Haeckel. He takes the Riddle
of the Universe as the finest summary of
the scientific hostility to religion. He
accepts Haeckel’s statement that the
three essential propositions in religion
are the belief in a personal God, the
liberty of the will, and the immortality
of the soul; and he assures Haeckel’s
critics, often in more vigorous language
than Haeckel presumes to use, that their
arguments are utterly fruitless and their
positions untenable.
After devoting
115
eight chapters to the struggle over these
doctrines, he concludes (p. 217): “The
entire intellectual scheme of religion—
the doctrines of immortality, of freedom,
and a God who is, in his relation to our
selves, separable from this [cosmic]
process—is not only a system which is
unsupported by any single scientific fact,
but is also a system for which, amongst
the facts of science, it is utterly im
possible for the intellect to find a place.
Yet Mr. Mallock has announced that he
is going to prove that these fundamental
doctrines of religion are “worthy of a
reasonable man’s acceptance.” How
will he accomplish this?
In the first place he does not intend
to evade the difficulties by an appeal to
the “ religious feelings ” or “ religious
instinct
at all events, not primarily ;
he is going to appeal to us “ as perfectly
reasonable beings.” He quite realises
that the growing habit of taking refuge
in the emotions is little more sensible
than the fabled practice of the ostrich.
He devotes three chapters to a closely
reasoned plea for the retention of the
doctrines, as to which he has so far
cordially endorsed Haeckel’s arguments.
Before entering on a careful analysis of
his reasoning I will state his.argument as
concisely as is compatible with justice to
it. These beliefs are to be retained on
the ground of their moral and spiritual
value to humanity. They are the chief
source of all higher aspiration and
effort, and are essential for the mainte
nance of our mental, moral, and social
progress. So far the argument is more
familiar than Mr. Mallock imagines.
The peculiarity of his position is that he
says they may be true, although they are
flatly and most properly contradicted by
science.
And he justifies this by
attempting to show that our accepted
doctrines, even in science, freely contra
dict each other, and that such contradic
tion is not at all an indication of falsity.
We may, and must, accept all that
Haeckel says, and then add to it all that
Dr. Horton says, without his “ worthless
and hopeless arguments.”
■!•.<
�MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
In an age of scepticism like ours such
peculiar evasions of the advancing
criticism are not infrequent.
Mr.
Balfour’s famous attempt to show the
rest of the world an escape from Ag
nosticism is still fresh in the memory,
though already too antiquated to detain
us. The later thoughts of G. J. Romanes
we will consider presently, as they are
much quoted in opposition to Haeckel.
Other singular attempts at pacification,
of a less distinguished order, are met
almost monthly. There is somehow a
conviction abroad that Agnostics are
languishing for some rehabilitation of
their old beliefs, or that humanity at
large always excluding the peace
makers themselves—cannot maintain
its advance without religious belief.
Hence arises the singular spectacle of
sceptical writers constructing elaborate
defences of the conventional beliefs,
which they do not share. The reception
of Mr. Mallock’s book hardly suggests
the belief that his olive-branch will be
respected by either group of combatants ;
but its ability and interest, and its indi
cation of a possible ground for religion
when all we have advanced has been
fully established, compel us to examine
it with respect.
Mr. Mallock begins with his proof
that all our knowledge ends in contradic
tions when we analyse it, so that we
may reconcile ourselves to Haeckel’s
disproofs. He first shows this in the
teaching of theology, where, as he
observes, the Monist will cordially agree
with him. But he goes on to say that
Haeckel’s “substance” is no less con
tradictory, yet we accept it. The ele
mentary substance (ether or prothyl)
either consists of minute separate par
ticles, or it is continuous. If ether
consists of disjointed atoms, separated
by empty spaces, all action must be an
“action at a distance,” which science
rejects as absurd and impossible. If
ether is continuous, yet the atoms of
ponderable matter arise from it by con
densation, then we are postulating
condensation and rarefaction in a sub
stance which has no particles to be
pushed closer together or thrust wider
asunder. But the elementary substance
must be either one or the other, so that
in either case we accept a contradictory
proposition. Further, when we say that
the nebula with its varied elements was
evolved out of a homogeneous ether by
a rigidly determined process, we are at
once saying the ether was simple and
homogeneous, yet was of so specific a
structure as to grow into an elaborately
varied cosmos. Again, we say time is
infinite, yet an addition is made to
it every moment; and we say space
is infinite, yet it is divisible, and each
part must be infinite (and so equal
to the whole), or else we make up infinity
from a finite number of finite quantities.
Thus our scientific doctrines hold innu
merable contradictions. Therefore, the
contradiction between religious and
scientific teaching need not deter us
from accepting both.
Now, in the first of these illustrations
Mr. Mallock has devised a fictitious
contradiction ; in the second he is fol
lowing the vulgar fashion of building an
argument on the imperfect condition of
scientific knowledge; and in the third he
is giving us some familiar metaphysical
quibbling. Dr. Haeckel inserted in his
work the theory of ether which was in
favour amongst physicists at the time he
wrote. Physics is changing yearly as to
such theories; all is as yet tentative and
provisional. But this is certain ; physi
cists will never adopt any theory of
matter that is self-contradictory. If the
pyknotic theory, or the vortex-theory, or
the strain-theory, of the atom reveals any
such contradiction, it has no chance of
acceptance. It is thus quite false to say
we here complacently accept contradic
tories. It is, moreover, clear that Mr.
Mallock’s dilemma is “lame in one
horn,” at least. It supposes that these
discrete particles are at rest. Science
on the contrary supposes them to be
eternally in motion, so that the empty
space only facilitates their impact and
mutual interaction. In the second case,
�MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
Mr. Mallock is, as I said, merely drawing
our attention to the acknowledged fact
that we have as yet nothing more than
vague conjectures about the origin of
atoms ; but we embrace no contradic
tion whatever, and no theory will be
received that contains such.
The
prothyl is conceived by scientists (apart
from philosophers) to be just as simple
and homogeneous as the scientific
evidence will allow it to be. There is
no disposition whatever to credit it
with contradictory attributes.
In the
third case, Mr. Mallock is serving up to
us metaphysical arguments, for theism
from those very theologians whose
methods he has so severely denounced.
Almost any recent Catholic apologist
gives these subtleties of word-play. The
contradiction is fictitious. When we say
that, as far as the astronomic evidence
goes, the universe is unlimited, we . do
not expose ourselves to this metaphysical
antithesis of finite and infinite. Both
as to space and time (in the concrete)
the argument makes us say far more
than we do.
Mr. Mallock thus entirely fails to
show that we accept contradictory
propositions as true. On the contrary,
in scientific procedure the emergence of
a contradiction is at once greeted as an
indication of falseness, and is forthwith
acted upon by the rejection of one of
the contradictory theses. The ground
work and most essential and novel part
of his structure of reasoning is invalid.
He proceeds, however, to show (ch. xii)
that science is not the only source, or
the only test, of our convictions. There
are as good grounds for accepting these
particular contradictions as for admitting
those of science.
It is at once apparent that we have in
fact a large number of convictions which it
is not the function of science to establish
or examine. Our comparative judgment
of conduct, of beauty, of spiritual values
generally, is not tested by standards that
the scientific reason sets up. Our belief
in “ the sanctity of human life ” does not
rest on scientific grounds; and the
117
influence of religious ideas—the truth of
which science criticises—is also a
subject for non-scientific . judgment.
We might, indeed, complain at once
that Mr. Mallock has here com
pletely lost his accustomed lucidity.
If he means by “ science ” the dis
ciplines
which
to-day bear
that
name, it is true that many of our
judgments lie outside them. But what
will lie outside the range of the
science of to-morrow it would be
difficult to say. The science of aesthe
tics and the science of ethics are
obviously creeping over much of that
territory which Mr. Mallock holds to be
extra-scientific. As a matter of fact the
very question he is leading us to—the
question of the mental and moral
influence of religious ideas—is mainly a
question for ethics and sociology to
determine by objective and scientific
standards. If Mr. Mallock means that
the ethical standard is not scientifically
determinable, he is begging an important
question. However, let us hasten to
examine the vital part of his eleventh
chapter.
He says that it “ has never occurred
to Haeckel ” to ask himself whether the
ethic of Christianity, which he accepts,
may not chance to be inseparable from
its dogmas. In face of the nineteenth
chapter of the Riddle this is a hard
saying. Haeckel cuts away most of the
ethic which is at all peculiar to
Christianity, and finds that the valuable
remainder is a purely humanitarian ethic.
We have already seen this. But Mr.
Mallock is thinking of that great
problem of his whole career—the
problem of free will or determinism—
and he holds emphatically that on
Haeckel’s principles morality is abso
lutely impossible. Suppose, he says,
that we in theory set up a world with
a general belief in the determinism of
the will. From such a world all moral
condemnation and all moral . appre
ciation must disappear ; in it vice and
virtue are indistinguishable ; men and
women are no more responsible for
�118
MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
their characteristics than the apple is
for its colour or shape. Now one of
the most effective parts of Mr. Mallock’s
book is that in which he shows that
scientific determinism is absolutely
irresistible. The contradiction he would
ask us to accept is therefore the
sharpest conceivable.
He asks us
to accept
this
contradiction—this
irrefutable proof that the will is not
free and this equally irrefutable proof
that it must be free—on account of the
moral importance of the belief in
freedom. On the same ground we are
to admit the beliefs in God and immor
tality which the scientific evidence has
wholly disproved; the effect of our
rejecting them would be “a shrinkage
in the importance, interest, and signifi
cance which we are able to attribute to
human life in general, and to the part
played in it by ourselves in particular;
and with the growth of scientific know
ledge, and the habit of completely
assimilating it, the shrinkage would
become more marked, and its moral
results more desolating.” . Hence, since
we are prepared in other cases to
swallow contradictories, we must yield
to these grave reasons and embrace the
contradictory theses of science and
religion.
The second fallacy in Mr. Mallock’s
procedure seems to be worse than the
first. Let us grant, for argument’s sake,
that these religious beliefs had all the
efficacy Mr. Mallock claims for them
whilst they were uncontradicted by
science and philosophy, were sincerely
and serenely held, and were thought to
be based on tangible cosmic evidence.
It is surely a monstrous fallacy to suppose
they will retain that power when their
position is so seriously changed; when
men are assured that, in Mr. Mallock’s
own words, “ it is utterly impossible for
the intellect to find a place for them
amongst the facts of science.” We are,
in fact, invited to regard these beliefs as
efficacious because they are really held,
and then to hold them because they are
efficacious. To say that these considera
tions—if they are correct—should dis
suade us from promulgating or defending
Haeckel’s views is an arguable, though a
mistaken, position.
But Mr. Mallock
has just concluded one of the most
vigorous and skilful attacks on the
evidence for these doctrines that has
appeared of late years. Does he imagine
that people who read that attack will be
disposed to cling to these beliefs because
it would be morally beneficial to hold
them ? that people are so simple as to
accept moral efficacy as the guarantee of
the truth of doctrines which can only be
morally efficacious when they are believed
to be true ? It reminds one of the
American critic who said that J. S. Mill
negotiated a certain difficulty by getting
under himself and carrying himself across.
Surely the simplest and the only possible
procedure is to fasten on this very im
portance of moral idealism as a humani
tarian gospel, and to show the world
that it will taste a very real hell, here on
earth, if it allows moral culture to be
swept away along with the cosmic specu
lations with which it has so long been
associated.
The difficulty about the
freedom of the will may turn out to be
largely due to our slavery to language.
That which formerly went by the name
of freedom is disproved by science. But
the fact remains—and it is a scientific, a
psychological, fact—that we are con
scious of being able to influence our
character and our actions, and so
we cannot deny our responsibility
within limits.
It is for ethics and
psychology to determine those limits
and to re-adjust our terms and con
ceptions.
I have only granted for the sake of
the argument that these doctrines have
all that moral importance which Mr.
Mallock claims for them. He says this
is clear from the attempts of Agnostic
thinkers to find a substitute for them.
Their ethical reasoning is irreproachable,
but they recognise that they must also
make “an appeal to the moral and
spiritual imagination of the individual.”
Prof. Huxley does this with a plea for
�MR. MALLOCPCS OLIVE-BRANCH
■lreverence and love for the ethical ideal,”
and Mr. Spencer urges reverence for
the Unknowable and recognition of
our unity with it. Mr. Mallock is very
scornful about both, and he may be right
that reverence of this cosmic order will
pass away with the passing of theology.
Haeckel has not appealed to such rever
ence, so that he may contemplate its
disappearance without undue concern.
He has urged us to find the practical
ground for moral culture in the future in
the recognition of its value to humanity.
No one recognises this value more clearly
than Mr. Mallock. It is the chief support
of his whole argument. The loss of the
higher aspiration would, he says, spell
ruin to a nation, and the “ belief in
human nature is as essential to civilisation
as is a good circulation to the healthy
body.” Now, if all this is true, as it is,
it seems perfectly obvious that, when
men have got over the confusion and
reaction caused by the decay of ethical
theology, they will turn to moral culture
for its own sake. It is inconceivable
how a subtle thinker, who believes men
are capable of continuing to worship
God and dream of immortality because
it is useful to do so, though contradicted
by the most solid evidence, cannot see
the possibility of setting up moral culture
on a sociological base. Confucians have
done it for ages, and with quite as great
success, to say the least, as Christianity.
The bulk of cultured people, like Mr.
Mallock, have done so for several
generations.
Theoretically, we should expect that
the transition from a divine to a humani
tarian ethic will be attended with a
certain amount of moral disorder. But
as a fact, the change is taking place
without any such disorder. The working
class, which is irreligious to the extent of
nine-tenths to-day, is no worse than it was
a century or five centuries ago; it is, in fact,
far nearer to “a belief in human nature.”
The middle-class, still largely religious,
is hardly likely to deteriorate. The
educated class—to ignore the money-line
—is almost wholly without those beliefs
119
in a personal God and personal im
mortality which Mr. Mallock thinks
essential, yet will compare very favour
ably with its class in almost any former
age. In a word, if we consult the facts
of ‘life instead of theory, we find no
ground for supposing that moral culture
—not to speak of intellectual, artistic,
and social aspiration—is bound up with
certain “cosmic speculations.” Under
neath all the transcendental imagery
with which the Churches have clothed
morality, there has always been an in
stinctive feeling that it was a very human
affair, and this feeling asserts itself as the
theological imagery passes away. There
will be changes, of course. The proud in
tolerance and arrogance of the old moral
ists, with the horrible persecutions they
inspired, have gone for ever; the ascetic
contempt of “the flesh” is going and
must wholly disappear; humility and
meekness have no sociological value;
virginity is a matter of taste, but marriage
is a more virtuous condition; the stress
on chastity (in a transcendental sense)
has led to an appalling amount of real
immorality in every age, because few
were prepared to respect it; the old
classification of virtues and vices, as so
many rigid moral boxes to put other
people’s conduct in, must go; the old
antithesis of selfishness and altruism
will be replaced by an organic conception
of man’s relation to his fellows; the
relation of the sexes will be subject only
to a purely rational ethic, grounded on
justice, not sentiment, and so there may
be at length some hope of putting an
end to hypocrisy and vice. When
writers like Mr. Wells, or Mr. G. B.
Shaw, or Mr. Karl Pearson, talk of the
disappearance of ethics, they are thinking,
of one or other of these changes. But.
ethics will only gain by such changes.
“ Many are called, but few are chosen,”
said the founder of Christianity. It was
a profound anticipation of the influence
of Christian morality throughout. the
ages. Apart from certain special periods,
apart from the relatively small areas that
could be reached. by a St. Bernard, or a;
�120
MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
St. Francis, Christian morality has been
a stupendous failure. It was too trans
cendental, too false to the natural moral
sense of the ordinary individual, to be
otherwise. The cultivation of a kindly and
humane disposition, of a sense of justice
and honour, of tolerance and broad
mindedness, of concern for health of
body and mind, of temperance and self
control, of honesty and truthfulness, is
what humanity really needs; and all this
it can and will have for its own inherent
worth.
Thus Mr. Mallock has failed to prove
that we anywhere complacently accept
contradictions in our beliefs; and that,
even if we did (to the utter confusion of
any notion of truth), there is any special
reason for retaining these theological
doctrines ; or that, if we did retain them
in the teeth of scientific teaching to the
contrary, they would be of the slightest
value. There are, however, one or two
confirmatory thoughts in his last chapter
which we may still consider. It follows,
he says, that our judgment deals with
two worlds, the cosmic and the moral,
the world of objective facts and the
world of subjective values. One is the
world of science, the other is reached by
some other faculty of mind. It would
be equally absurd to question the validity
of our judgment as to either. In fact,
there is, in the long run, a similarity in
the ground of judgment in both cases.
It is a mistake to suppose that in the
scientific world everything is “ proved.”
The fundamental belief, the conviction
that there is a material world at all, is
quite unprovable. If it is an inference
from our sensations, reason refuses to
ratify it. It is the outcome of “ an
original instinct”; and it is just such an
instinct that is at the root of our judg
ment of moral values. Science must
study the objective world; “ analytic
reason and a study of human character ”
must investigate the moral world. They
find these three beliefs essential to
progress, and their decision is as valid
as that of science in its own sphere.
The contradiction between the two need
not trouble us. The mind is limited,
and can “ grasp the existence of nothing
in its totality.” “We must learn, in
short,” is his closing sentence, “ that the
fact of our adoption of a creed which
involves an assent to contradictories is
not a sign that our creed is useless or
absurd, but that the ultimate nature of
things is for our minds inscrutable.”
. This reasoning is only a new formula
tion of the argument of his preceding
chapters, but one or two points call for
notice. In the first place, it is perfectly
true that all our convictions are not
capable of “proof,” because they cannot
all be inferences. Our knowledge must
ultimately be grounded on facts which
are directly intued. These are gathered
into general laws and principles, and
from these inferences are drawn. And
it is true that our perception of the
external world is—in its rudiments—
intuitive. It is not an inference from
our states of consciousness; it would
not be valid if it were. When meta
physics has grown tired of the current
idealism, it will probably tell us more
about this intuition. But Mr. Mallock’s
attempt to set up a number of little
oracles in the mind in the shape of
“ primitive instincts ” must be carefully
watched. Further, what he calls the
subjective or moral world is by no means
wholly subjective. It is useful for his
purpose to lead us on from sesthetic
judgments to moral. We may, fortu
nately, leave out of consideration the
difficulty of our sesthetic judgments,
because our moral judgment is purely
objective. The effects which Mr. Mal
lock anticipates from a Monistic ethic
are emphatically objective; and so are
the effects he claims for the Christian
ethic.
The determination of those
effects, and so of the relative value of
the two systems, is a study in objective
reality. “The sanctity of human life”
has nothing to do with it. The “ belief
in human nature ” is a conviction that,
of the various phases of life which
humanity has experienced—virtue and
vice, strength and enervation, social
�MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
order and anarchy, mental culture and
sensual dissipation—the former alter
natives are the most conducive to peace
and happiness, which we happen to
desire. That conviction is, therefore,
wholly based on an objective inquiry.
Hence the antithesis of the subjective
and objective worlds does not help Mr.
Mallock. And in point of fact the
sooner we apply scientific methods to
his second world, to the determination
of moral values, the better it will be for
us.
Finally, there is in Mr. Mallock’s closing
observations an important confusion of
ideas. That the mind is limited, that
we can only focus it on successive spots
in the great panorama of reality, is a
familiar truth. It is further true that
we may not be able to see the con
nection between our little areas of
knowledge, as they are often separated
by leagues of ignorance. In this passive
sense we may say we are unable to
reconcile ” them. But to admit two or
more statements that are clearly con
tradictory is quite another matter. To
do so in one single instance is to admit
the most radical and irreparable scepti
cism. Even the Catholic Church has
strongly denounced the principle that
“ a thing may be true in theology yet
false in philosophy.” If contradictories
may be true, we cannot rely on a single
affirmation of the mind. Some primi
tive instinct ” may yet find out that it is
also false. We should disci edit our
knowledge in its very source. Mr.
Mallock is likely to remain to the end a
Peri at the gate of Eden. Theology is
not more likely than science to give ear
to such a proposal.
I have said that Mr. Mallock’s theory
in some respects recalls the later
thoughts of Mr. Romanes, and as these
are much quoted in correction of
Haeckel’s procedure we may glance at
them in conclusion. In his later years
Mr. Romanes, once a thorough Monist,
jotted down some of his “ thoughts on
religion,” and they were published after
his ° death by Bishop Gore.
This
121
solitary “ conversion ” amongst the
scientific men of the last century has
naturally attracted some interest, but it
is not usually properly understood. In
the first place the works of both Mrs.
Romanes and Bishop Gore repel the
Rationalist inquirer by the offensive and
insulting insinuation that character had
anything to do with ■ the matter.
“ Blessed are the pure in heart for they
shall see God,” they both constantly
exclaim. The inference as to those
who do not see God is obvious. In the
second place, Mr. Romanes, though he
died in the communion of the Anglican
Church, seems to have reached a
theology of a very slender character.
His God is pantheistically immanent in
nature. All causation, he suggests, may
be Divine action, so that God melts into
the forces of the universe. The dis
tinction between the natural and super
natural he wholly rejects j and he thinks
the determinism of the will, established
by science, is consistent with the belief
that all causation is an act of Divine will.
And thirdly, without discussing the
illness which overcast the later years of
Mr. Romanes, these “thoughts, on
religion” contain some sorry sayings.
“ The nature of man without God is
thoroughly miserable,” he. says, pro
jecting his morbid condition on the
world at large; and “ there is a vacuum
in the soul which nothing can fill but
God.” Again, “ Unbelief is usually due
to indolence, often to prejudice, and
never a thing to be proud of.”. How
ever, let us examine his position in itself.
It may be said in a word that he
appeals to a religious instinct or intui
tion, which is independent of reason.
“If there be a God, he must be a.first
principle—-the first of all first piinciples
—-hence knowable by intuition and not
by reason.” Of the two temperaments
—the scientific or rational and the
“ spiritual ” or mystic—he says “ there is
nothing to choose between the two in
point of trustworthiness. Indeed, if
choice has to be made, the mystic
might claim higher authority for his
�122
MR. MALLOCK'S OLIVE-BRANCH
direct intuitions.” “ No one can believe
in God, or a 'fortiori in Christ, without
a severe act of will.” He shows how
often belief , is influenced by desire in
politics and is by no means an outcome
of reasoning, and adds: “ This may be
all deplorable enough in politics and in
all other beliefs secular; but who.shall
say it is not exactly as it ought to *be in
the matter of belief religious ? ” And,
speaking of “the continual sacrifices
which Christianity entails,” he says
“ the hardest of these sacrifices to an in
telligent .man is that of his own intellect.”
We will not do Romanes the injustice
of analysing in detail these sad reflec
tions of a suffering and diseased con
dition. . It is with reluctance that a
Rationalist approaches the question at
all, but it is forced on us. Just as I
write, an American correspondent sends
me a copy of the Literary Digest for
September 26.
It appears that Pro
fessor J. Orr, of the Glasgow Free
Church College, has been telling the
Americans that there is in England a
strong current from scepticism to faith.
He “claims to speak as an expert,” and
“ has in his possession a list of some
twenty-eight Secularist leaders in England
and Scotland who have become Chris
tians.” The truthfulness of this assertion
may be judged from the fact that he
only gives three names—Joseph Barker,
Thomas Cooper, and G. J. Romanes. The
former two were, I learn, men who were
associated with the Secularist activity
years ago, but were of no intellectual
standing and are hardly to be termed
“ leaders.” Romanes, he says, “ bit by bit
came under the power of the gospel, and
died a Christian in full communion with
the Church of England, avowing the
faith of Jesus, his deity and his atone
ment, and the resurrection of the dead,
and every other great article of our
faith.”1 We are thus forced to set in its
1 To finish with this miserable effusion—
quoted by the Digest from Zion's Herald—I
must add that he then goes on to speak of
Germany, where Haeckel’s Riddle “ has been
discarded for fully a quarter of a century” (the
true light the death-bed communion of
Romanes. As he says, it was by the
sacrifice of his intellect, by ignoring his
scientific temperament, by an effort of
will, that he succeeded in assenting to
what he calls “pure Agnosticism.”
In a sense, however, his idea of a
“ religious intuition ” is widely accepted
in the decaying Churches. Many dis
pense themselves on the ground of this
intuition or instinct from examining the
criticisms that are urged. We need only
make two observations on this last resort
of the theist. Firstly, this “ intuition ”
has, in the course of the last few thou
sand years, given men the most contra
dictory messages, and it is to-day sup
porting a hundred divergent beliefs
about. God and the future life. Its own
vagaries sternly condemn it as a channel
of truth. Secondly, modern psycholo
gists agree to regard instinct as an
inherited tendency or disposition.1 It
follows that if we have an “ original
instinct ” impelling us to accept religious
doctrines—I say if, because I am con
scious of no such instinct, nor is any
other person of whom I have inquired—
this is only the disposition towards them
which we have inherited, and has nothing
whatever to do with their truth or un
truth. It means, at the most, that our
fathers have accepted these beliefs for
many generations. We were aware of
that already.
first edition appeared a very few years ago).
Professor Orr says that “nearly all the great
scientific authorities that Haeckel quotes changed
their views some thirty or forty or twenty-five
years ago.” He will give “ the names of one or
two of them,” and out come the inevitable Vir
chow, Wundt, and Du Bois-Reymond. The
last-named “has reaffirmed the soul of man, re
affirmed the spiritual principle in man, and re
affirmed the supernatural element in man”—
compare what Haeckel does say of this Agnostic
writer on p. 6 of the Riddle. If these things are
not untruths, one wonders what is. One thinks
of poor Romanes’s awful statement that “ this
may be all deplorable enough in politics, but
who shall say it is not exactly as it ought to be
in religion ? ”
1 See Villa’s Contemporary Psychology, p. 292;
Sully’s Human Mind, I, 137 ; and Lloyd Mor
gan, Wundt, Ribot, and Masci.
�123
CONCLUSION
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CONCLUSION
We find, then, that the recent efforts
to evade the onward march of Monistic
science do not promise. any great
measure of success. Neither the specu
lations of Dr. Wallace, nor the assurances
of Lord Kelvin, nor the suggestions of
Mr. Mallock, provide a safe path of
retreat, if the positions of our earlier
chapters have been established.
As
long as scientists were willing to remain
silent on these cosmic speculations, it
was possible for ecclesiastical writers to
assume that they were not hostile, even
to assume that they were friendly, and so
to represent Professor Haeckel as a
Quixotic and isolated defender of an
extreme position which mature science
had deserted. It is certainly not pos
sible to do so with any regard for ac
curacy to-day. I have throughout sup
ported his positions with the most recent
utterances of scientific leaders, and the
excursions of Dr. Wallace and Lord
Kelvin have only served to show how
far science is to-day from lending sup
port to theology.
It may not be without interest, in conV eluding, to resume my work from the
point of view and in the order which one
finds in the Riddle itself. Chaps. II. to
V. are devoted to the proof that man is
descended, as regards his bodily frame,
from some earlier animal species. This
position is not now challenged by a
single anthropologist of the first or
second rank, and it is almost universally
admitted by cultivated theologians.
Chaps. VI. to X. are occupied with the
proof that the mind of man has been
developed from the mind of an animal
of an earlier species.
Dr. A. R.
Wallace is almost the only anthropolo
gist (if we may describe him as such) of
high rank who still questions that this
fact has been established, and we have
seen that theologians acquainted with
the facts began twenty years ago to
acquiesce in this truth. The majority of
the scientifically cultured apologists of
our day admit it. We have noticed the
overwhelming mass of evidence in favour
of it, and the fact that the most recent
researches of anthropologists tend to
elucidate it more and more. We have
seen that so critical a theist as Professor
J. Ward speaks of the doctrine of the
evolution of man, mind and body, being
“accepted with unanimity by biologists
of every school.”
When, however,
Haeckel goes on (Chap. . X.) to con
clude, in the purely scientific spirit, that
mind-force is therefore only an upward
and more elaborate extension of the
world-force that gradually advances from
the inorganic to the organic universe,
we find him denounced as “ crude ” and
“ unscientific.”
We have seen how
wholly logical and scientific his proce
dure is. When, further, he goes on to
say that this explanation of the origin of
the human soul leaves no room for those
claims of unique prerogatives on which
man once based his hope of immortality,
we again find the advanced company of
apologists at variance. Some think the
question is “ insoluble by philosophy ” ;
others elaborate novel speculations about
the aim of the cosmic process which we
have patiently considered.
The very
latest scientific researches, we saw, do
no tend to ascribe any peculiar signifi
cance to human life or to the planet we
inhabit.
Thus, in the first half of the book,
which deals with man, we find that all
Haeckel’s scientific assertions are sup
ported, almost without exception, by his
colleaguesin the anthropological sciences,
�124
CONCLUSION
and are admitted by most of the apolo
gists. . His conclusions from these facts,
touching the nature and the destiny of
the soul, are not denied by his colleagues
(who do not now, as a rule, trouble
themselves about the relation of their
knowledge to religious belief), but are
contested in the name of religion by the
theologians.. They appeal to philosophy,
and by philosophy we have judged
them.
The second half of the work deals with
a number of problems. Chaps. XII. to
XV. are occupied with the nature of the
cosmic substance, its unity, and its
evolution, through the inorganic world,
to the forms of living organisms. On
the nature of matter and force Haeckel
correctly gives the theories of the time
he wrote, and his system readily as
similates any modification of these which
the advance of physics may entail. The
unity he claims for inorganic nature is
undisputed, as is its evolution. When he
proceeds to unify the inorganic and the
organic worlds—to assume that life arose
by evolution, and that the life-force is not
of a specific or isolated character—he
has all the leading biologists and most
of the leading theists with him. We
have seen what befel Lord Kelvin when
he questioned this. He then (Chap. XV.)
attacks the question of the existence of
God. Here, save for a vague allusion to
a “creative power” or a “directive
principle” on the part of a few great
scientists and the fuller theology of a
small number of other Veil-known men of
science, he again advances beyond his
colleagues. Most of the scientists of our
day (including those German scientists
who are so much quoted) are Agnostics,
and do not concern themselves about
religion. Haeckel here speaks as a
philosopher. He is confronted with
certain metaphysical considerations which
purport to prove the existence of God.
We saw that for most of the cultured
apologists this merely means a principle
immanent in nature, and not distinguish
able from it.
In other words, the
ultimate question is : Is the evolution of
this Monistic universe of such a nature
that we are compelled to suppose there
was an intelligence guiding it from the
outset ? That is the problem on which
all forces are concentrating. The de
fence of gaps is falling into disrepute,
and, as a policy, is disdained by the very
men who practise it. We saw that the
forces which have evolved the world are
not erratic in their action, and so needed
no control; that science points to no
beginning of the scheme of things, and
so we need no creator; and that, on the
other hand, the cosmic process shows
many features which are inconsistent
with the existence of a supreme designer
and controller.
When Haeckel passes on to the moral
sciences, we saw that he is substantially
borne out by the latest research. Biblical
criticism and comparative mythology
have thoroughly shaken the belief in the
miraculous life of Christ; and whether
Haeckel has or has not the right version
of his paternity is not an important
matter. His judgment on the natural
growth and the limited influence of
Christianity is that of most historians.
His theory of a humanitarian ethic is in
harmony with the whole trend of ethical
discussion to-day.
We have seen, on the other hand,
how scattered and mutually conflicting
are the critics of Haeckel’s position.
We have been able, during quite twothirds. of our course, to silence the
majority of these critics with the weapons
of the minority. The majority of those
amongst them who have a wide scientific
culture are warning their smaller-minded
or less-informed colleagues to desert the
defence of gaps.
Almost the whole
library of apologetics up to within the
last ten years is useless to-day. The
apologists of yesterday mistook gaps in
scientific knowledge for gaps in the
course of natural development. A few
not very clear-minded theologians do so
still; and the old instinct is so strong,
and the fallacy appeals so strongly to the
imagination, that we have found even
the most advanced critics occasionally
�CONCLUSION
falling from grace. The tendency is,
however, to-day to allow that science
may build up a complete mechanical in
terpretation of the universe and all its
contents; the apologist is content to
hope that he may enter at the close with
his transcendental speculations on the sup
posed origin of the cosmic elements and
the alleged purpose of the cosmic process.
We have seen that already cultured and
sympathetic observers like Mr. Mallock
are telling them that this last position
will be no better than the first, and that
science allows them no foothold what
ever in the objective world.
That it is the ambition of science to
give a mechanical explanation of the
whole contents of the universe has been
made clear.
The dream of Tyndall
and Huxley is by no means abandoned.
For the inorganic universe no one
seriously doubts that this is only a ques
tion of time. And the angry resentment
by our leading biologists at Lord Kelvin’s
interference in their domain amply.shows
how little they are disposed to give up
the ideal of a mechanical interpretation
of life. So far the vast majority of the
leading scientists of the world are with
Haeckel. I do not say that they endorse
all his suggestions on points of detail.
His system, we saw, is not a rigidly
uniform structure, for all parts of which
he claims equal weight. He throws out
theories, and hypotheses, and suggestions,
in advance of the demonstrated conclu
sions. These are temporary and pro
visional.
That scientists reject or
dispute about any of these detailed
suggestions—whether it be on the evo
lution of ether, or the first formation of
protoplasm, or the fatherhood of Jesus—
does not affect his main position, or his
attitude towards religion. He frankly
says he may very well be wrong in these
details, and that he merely suggests that
the evidence so far seems to point in
this or that direction.
Whether the
advance of science proves or disproves
these suggestions does not affect the
main issue. The main issue is the unity
and evolution of nature. So far, as I
125
said, scientists in general are with him.
When he goes on to deal with conscious
ness, creation, design, and religion, it
cannot be said that they are with him.
But it is a gross deception to represent
that they are with his opponents. They
are Agnostics, as a rule. They prefer
not to concern themselves with these
subjects. They are Monists in the sense
that they accept the unity and evolution
of the cosmos, and refuse to see any
positive breach in the continuity of
nature. But they are, as Dr. Ward says,
“Agnostic Monists,” in the sense that
they are content with a negative attitude
on these later problems. The number
of great scientists who give a positive
and explicit support to personal theism
may be counted on one’s fingers.
In conclusion, I would respectfully
submit to these Agnostic men of science,
and the vast cultured following they
have in every educated country to
day, two considerations. The first is a
request that they will reflect on the spirit
and procedure of the apologists for con
ventional religion, as these are exhibited
in the attack on Dr. Haeckel, one of the
most distinguished and most honourable
of living scientists. If he cares to invade
every department of thought in search
of anti-theological arguments, and to
throw out scores of positive explanations
in the teeth of the theologians, he must,
of course, expect battle. It is just what
he desires. But he desires honourable
warfare. Truth is a frail spirit that must
be sought with patient and calm investi
gation. Its pursuit should be conducted
with dignity and especially with a scru
pulous honesty. We have seen that,
on the contrary, this campaign against
Haeckel’s views has been marked by
malignant abuse and persistent misrepre
sentation, by statements which cannot be
conceived as other than untruths, by
gross perversion of the teaching of modern
science, and by a score of devices and
stratagems that would disgrace the con
duct of a heated political campaign. It
is by these means that one-fourth of the
people are held attached to the old
�126
CONCLUSION
beliefs—people who, to a great extent,
would carry into the new humanitarian
religion a humane and proper spirit that
would enormously facilitate the transition
to a new inspiration. Is it conducive to
the interest of truth, or of science, or of
human welfare, that this corporation of
the clergy should continue in the twen
tieth century that mistaken conceit about
the truth of their cosmic views which
inspires them with such dishonourable
tactics ?
Secondly, I would ask whether it is
not too late in the history of the world
to be inventing fanciful theories for the
detention of the people in the Churches.
Three-fourths of the people are wholly
beyond the influence of the clergy, and
as these controversial devices become
known the defection is bound to increase.
It is too late to speak of the welfare of
the race depending on a religion which
the great majority have for ever aban
doned. Scepticism is in the atmosphere
of the world to-day.
The more we
educate the more we extend its influence.
If this is so the true humanitarian will
desire the change to be effected as
speedily as possible, and the moral ideal
to be swiftly disentangled from its decay
ing frame of dogma. In one respect the
world is in a pitiful plight to-day. Thou
sands of the clergy of all denominations
are only too eager to disavow the old
formulae and to devote themselves
to character-building alone. They are
prevented by the lingering concern of
the majority of church-members for
dogma. They are forced to utter un
truths (“ symbolically ”) at the very
moments when they are pleading for
truth, andhonour, and sincerity. We have
the spectacle of ecclesiastical scholars of
all denominations being forced to1
disavow the convictions which have
crept to their lips, and of Christian
journals complaining that the lack of
honesty is one of the most prominent?
features of theological literature. How
this state of things is held to be conducive
to the social good it is hard to imagine.
One of the great social needs of our
time is to sweep away the whole totter
ing structure of conventional religion and
worship. Whilst we talk of “ continuity ”
the world is deserting it altogether. The
moral tone of the clergy is lowered by
their corporate alliance with cosmic
speculations. The stream of enthusiasm
which has so long flowed through the
religions of the world is being dissipated.
Only one change will infuse new life into
the Churches and rehabilitate religion—
the swift abandonment to metaphysicians
of all these cosmic speculations. When
that revolution has been completed we
shall have given a new meaning to
religion that will change the present
contempt into concern. It will be an
affair of this world, a visibly important
element of this life. Men will turn their
eyes from the clouds to discover new
potencies in earth. That is the socio
logical basis of the work of the Rationalist
Press Association. Behind it are scores
of humanitarian constructive movements
ready to guide and inform the religious
or idealist ardour. Its work is the attack
on unthinking superstition, the war
against hypocritical professions, the
promulgation of a standard of intellec
tual honesty, the cultivation of a virile
and rational attitude on all the problems
of life.
It claims and deserves the sup
port of every man or woman who is sanely
and sincerely concerned for progress.
�INDEX
Christian World, the, 11, 12
Christianity, “triumph” of, 89, 90
Churches, advantages of the, 92 ;
decay of the, 92, 93
Clarke, Dr. W. N., 32, 39, 50, 67, 72 ;
on the origin of man, 50
Clarion, campaign of the, 11, 92
Colour, nature of, 27
Confucianism, 80
Consciousness, 54, 57, 58, 79
Constantine, conversion of, 89
Contradictions, alleged, in our know
ledge, Il6, 117, 121
Conversion of German scientists, 17 ;
Babylon, morality of ancient, 95
G. J. Romanes, 17, 121
Baer, K., 10, 17
Cook, Dr., 14
Bain, Prof., 16
Cooper, Thomas, 122
Balfour, Mr., 116
Creative action, 45, 77, 108, in, 124
Ball, Sir R., on dark stars, 103
Ballard, the Rev. F., criticisms of, 9, Croll, Dr. J., 14; on free-will, 60; on
the evolution of species, 48; on
10-14,16, 35, 36, 38, 46, 69, 79, 82,
teleology, 70, 72
85, 86, 93, 100; on determinism,
12 ; on evolution, 69 ; on physical Cunningham, Prof., on the evolution
of mind, 59
theories, 24, 25 ; on spontaneous
generation, 12, 13, 40, 41 ; on teleo
logy, 72 ; on the outlook of Chris Daily Chronicle, criticism of the, 33
Daily News, census of church-gomg,
tianity, 91
92 ; teaching Pantheism, 77
Barker, Joseph, 122
Beale, Prof. L., 14, 16, 32, 41, 43, 46, Dallinger, the Rev. Dr., 14, 23, 36,
70, 71 ; on Haeckel, 9; on the
iro; advertises in the Times, 13,
finite universe, 23, 32 ; on the origin
43, IX3
of man, 51
Beauty of the world, 75, 76
Beginning of the universe, 30-32, 76, 77 Dark nebulae, 104 ; stars, 30, 33, 103
Dawson, Sir J. W., 14, 31
Belgium, religion in, 92.
Design, 54, 58, 69-74 _
Belittling effect of Monism, 35
Determinism and morality, 117, 118
Berkeley, 21, 77
Bible, supposed uniqueness of the, Dewar, Prof., 28, 44, 50; on Dar
winism, 50 ; on idealism, 22
87, 88
Biologists and the vital principle, 199, Diplomas, Haeckel’s, 8
Dogma a dangerous base for morality,
iro
96 ; dangerous to religion, 15
Bischoff, Dr. E., 82, 83
Dolbear, Prof, (quoted), no
Blatchford, Mr., it, 13, 52
Dreisch, in
Blathwayt, Mr. R., on Haeckel, 6
Booth,Mr. C.,on religion in London, 92 Dualism, 20, 59
Brierley, the Rev. J. B., ri, 12, 63, Dubois, Dr., 49
Du Bois-Reymond, 10, 17
83, 9i
Duns Scotus on immortality, 61
Buchner, L., 10, 17, 19, 42, 49, 66
Buddhism, 80, 99
Ecclesiastical history, character of, 87,
Budge (quoted), 95
89, 9°
Burdon-Sanderson, Sir J., on Lord Egyptian Bible, the, 95
Kelvin, 109 ; on vitalism, 43, 109
Electrons, 33
Bushido, the, 99
Embryo, development of the, 58
Emerson (quoted), 99
Caird, Dr., 22
Encyclopaedia Biblica, the, 87
Campbell, the Rev. R. J., on Chris End of the universe, 32, 33
tianity, 81, 94, 96; on religious Entropy, theory of, 31, 33, 34, 77
statistics, 93
Epicureans, the, 61
Candour in the pulpit, theologians on, Eternity of the universe, 30-34
12
Ether, 24, 25, 30, 104, 116
Carbon-theory of Haeckel, 112
Ethic of Monism, the, 93-96, 117
Case, Prof., on Agnosticism and Ethical Movement, the, 98
Monism? 16 ; on consciousness, 58 ; Ethics, 98
on idealism, 22
Ethics, changes in, 119
Celsus on the fatherhood of Christ, 85 Evolution, 35-37, 41, 42, 101
Central sun, idea of a, 105
Eye, evolution of the, 74
Centre of the universe, 105
Chance, 71, 72-74
Facial expression, relation to mind, 59
Chapman, Principal, on the origin of Fiske, Mr., 14 ; admissions of, 48, 51,
life, 42
77 ; on immortality, 66 ; on teleo
Christian history, supposed uniqueness
logy 70, 73, 74
.
of, 89 ; morality, defects of, 96, 117 ; Flammarion on Dr. Wallace s views,
true conception of, 94, 96
103, 105, 106
Abiogenesis, 39-46
I
Action at a distance, 116, 117
j
Agnostic scientists, 16, 17, 20
_
|
Agnosticism, its relation to Monism,
16, 17, 20, 125
|
Ambrose, St., work of, 20
1
America, religion in, 92
Apes, the, and man, 49, 56, 101
Asceticism, 96
Atheism, 75
Atom, the, 28, 30, J3, 116
Australia, religion in, 92
Flower, Prof., 14 ; on evolution, 47
Force, unity of, 26
France, religion in, 92
Gaps, the theology of, 36, 37, 69, 124
Generelle Morphologic, the, 8
Germany, religion in, 92
Gore, Bishop, 121
Gospels, date of the, 84, 87, 88
Grimthorpe, Baron, 14, 16, 33
Haeckel, alleged dogmatism of, 11,
12, 23 ; pessimism of, 35 ; cardinal
offence of, 84; circulation of his
work, 91 ; early training of, 7 ; on
chance, 73; on Christian dogmas,
81 ; on Christian ethics, 96 ; on
the future of the Churches, 98 ; on
the person of Christ 84, 88; on
the validity of speculation, 80;
system of, 17-19
Halliburton, Prof., on vitalism, 111
Hand, connection of with the brain, 59
Harnack, 87, 88
Hebrews no genius for morality, 95
Henslow, Prof., 80
Herbert, Prof., 59
Heredity, 58, 67
Horton, Dr., criticisms of, 10, 17, 18,
40, 43, 46, 52, 62, 64, 82, 85, 86, 93,
100, 112 ; on Vogt and Buchner, 10,
17
Huxley, Prof., 16, 99
Idealism criticised, 21, 22, 120 ; and
Christianity, 21
Immaculate Conception, the, 85
Immanence of God in Nature, 78
Immortality of the sou , 61-68
Infinity of space and time, 116, 117
Infinity of the universe, 23,103-105, 116
Inquirer, criticism in the, 27
Instinct only hereditary disposition,
122
Intelligibility of the universe, 79
International Journal ofEthics, the,
98
Iverach, the Rev. Dr., criticisms of,
14, n6, 21, 29, 32, 36, 39, 45, 47, 50,
53, ?r, 72> 75> 79 > on idealism, 21
James, Prof. W., 14; on immortality,
65 ; on theism, 78
Kant, 26, 64, 71
Kelvin, Lord, 14, 44, 45 ; on vitalism,
108-114
Kennedy, the Rev. Mr., 14, 17, 75
Khammurabi, laws of, 95
Knowledge, review in, 9, 27
Language, 59
Lankester, Prof. E. Ray, 16, 43 ; on
Darwinism, 47; on Lord Kelvin,
109, in
Law, nature of, 28 ; of substance, 27,
28
Leap of the gospels, the, 83
Le Conte, Prof., 14, 50, 69 ; on evolu
tion, 36; on God and Nature, 77;
on immortality, 65 ; on life-force, 43
Leyden, congress at, 49
�128
Liberty of the will, 12
Liebig, 108, 112
Life, conditions of, 106 ; development
of, 48 ; in other worlds, 32, 106,
107 ; in space, 112 ; the nature of,
41, 42-44, 46; the origin of, 39-46
Light, criticisms of, 25, 62
Limits of the universe, alleged, 23,
103-105
Lodge, Sir O., 14, 24, 25, 28, 33, 100,
109, 112 ; on entropy, 33 ; on life
force, 113, 114 ; on the nature of
matter, 33
Loofs, Dr., criticisms of, 82-86; on
the birth of Christ, 85-87
Macalister, Dr. A., 14
Mallock, Mr. W. H., 9, 15, 20, 22, 31,
33, 4L 5.6, 73, 75 on design, 75, 76 ;
on dualist difficulties, 36; on free
will, 60 ; on Haeckel, 9, 15 ; on
science and religion, 114, 115; on
the credibility of religion, 115-121 ;
on the evolution of mind, 57 ; on
theological arguments, 15
Man, origin of, 50-60
Manchester Guardian, criticism in
the, 28
Manicheans, the, 89
Materialism, real nature of, 19
Materiarii, the, 61
Matter and force, 18, 19, 55; inde
structibility of, 28 ; nature of, 27,
28, 33, 116 ; unity of, 24-26
Maudsley, Dr., 16
Maunder, Dr., on Dr. Wallace’s
views, 103
Mechanism as the ideal of science,
48, 58, 68-70, 76, no, 125
Memory, 54
“ Merlin,” 40
Milky Way, the, 105
Mind and brain, relation of, 55, 5760, 63, 64, 67 ; evolution of, argu
ments for the, 56, 57, 101
Miracles of Unbelief, the, 11-13, 43
Mithraists, the, 89
Mivart, Dr., 32, 39, 50, 100, no
Moleschott, 19
Monera, 45
Monism, 17-20, 93
Moore, Canon A. L., 42, 45, 47, 51, 71 ;
on tbe origin of man, 50
Moral Instruction League, the, 98
Moral training for children, 97, 98
Morality of unbelievers, 93, 94, 118,
119; origin of, 97; real nature of,
94, 117, 118
Miinsterberg, Prof., 51 ; on immor
tality, 56, 64, 65
Music compared to thought, 63
Nageli, Prof., 40, no
Natural History of Creation, the, 8,
W
Natural selection, 47, 59
Nebular hypothesis, the, 28, 116
INDEX
Necessity, 71, 73
Neo-Vitalism, 42-45, 110-113
New Testament, criticism of the, 87, 88
Newcomb, Prof., 103, 104
Nicaea, Council of. 86
Species, origin of, 47-49
Spectroscope, the, 24
Spencer, Mr., 16, 76
Spiritism, 68
Spiritists, 25
Spontaneous generation, 39-46 ; in the
Middle Ages, 42
Old Testament, the, 87
Stallo, views of, 25, xoo
Organic substances produced, 45
Stars, distance of the, 23 ; distribution
Origin of Species, the, 7
of the, 104, 105 ; nature of the, 24,
Orr, Prof., on unbelievers, 122
6r ; number of tbe, 23, 104
Statistics of religion, 86, 92
Paganism and Christianity, 90; de Stettin, Congress at, 7
struction of, 90
Subconscious mind, the, 57
Paleyism, 71
Substance, the universal, 26, 116
Pandera, 84-86
Sully, Prof., 16
Pantheism of modern evolutionary Sun, motion of the, 105, 106
theists, 77, 78
Synodicon, the, 83
Pasteur, 41, 42
Pearson, Prof. Karl, 16; on Lord Tactics of religious apologists, 125
Kelvin, 109
Talmage, Dr., on evolution, 52
Phenomena and substance, 26
Teleology, 37, 38, 48, 69-74
Pithecanthropus erectus, the, 49, 50, Thiselton-Dyer, Sir W. T., on Lord
101
Kelvin, 109; on the materialistic
Planets, habitability of the, 106, 107
view of life, in
Pope, the Rev. A., criticisms of, 18, Thompson, Sir Henry, on God, 78 ;
36, 53, 70; on Monism, 18, 19
on the future of religion, 91
Profeit, the Rev. Mr., 14, 38, 39, 71, Thought as a brain function, 63
73
Turner, Prof., on Dr. Wallace’s
Prothyl, 30, 34, 116
views, 102, 105, 107
Protoplasm, .45, 46, 54, 55, no
Turner, Sir W., on Darwinism, 47 ;
Psycho-physics, 57
on the development of man, 51, 58 ;
Psychoplasm, 54
on life, 42
Pyknotic theory, the, 24, 25, 116
Tyndall, Prof., 16, 42, 50
Quiller-Couch, Mr., on Agnostics, 94
Radium, 33
Rationalist Press Association, 91, 126
Reformer, criticism of the, 25
Reinke, in
Religion, decay of, 93, 119, 126
Religious instinct or intuition, 122
Riddle of the Universe, circulation of
the, 9
Robertson, Mr. J. M., on Christ, 88
Romanes, 17 ; conversion of, 12 r, 122
Row, Mr., 14
Royce, Prof., on God and man, 78 ;
on immortality, 64
Rucker, Sir A., 25, 27 ; on idealism,
22 ; on the nature of matter, 25 ; on
vitalism, 44
Union of Ethical Societies, the, 98
Unity of the Universe, 24, 26, 27
Virchow, 17, 49
Vital force, 41, 42, 43, 109-113
Vogt, 10, 17, 19
Wallace, Dr. A. R., 14, 41, 50, 51,
101-107, 123 ; the recent articles of,
101-107
Ward, Prof. J., 16, 23, 36, 43, 47, 51,
70, 77 ; On Agnosticism and Monism,
16 ; on vital force, 43
Washington Sullivan, Dr. (quoted), 95
Wells, Mr. H. G., on the future of
religion, 77, 91
Westminster Review on Haeckel, 9,
11
Will, freedom of the, 59, 60, 118
Sadducees, the, 61
Williams, the Rev. Rhondda, criti
Schultze, 89
Scientists who support religion, 14
cisms of, 12, 18, 19, 26, 36, 37, 53-56>
69, 72, 78, 79, 93 ; on conscious
Schmiedel, Dr., on the Gospels, 87, 88
ness, 54; on the beginning of the
Sepher Toldoth Jeschua, the, 85
world, 31 ; on the decay of the
Sheffield Daily Telegraph, the, on
Churches, 15 ; on Monism, 18 ; on
Haeckel, 11
the origin of man, 51 ; rejects dualism,
Smyth, the Rev. Newman, 14, 36, 37,
47> 5L 7°, 72 >on immortality, 66, 67 ;
77
Wilson, the Rev. Archdeacon, 87
on tbe origin of life, 39
Soul of the atom or cell, 54
Winchell, Dr., 14
Woman and Christianity, 96
Sound, nature of, 27
Wundt, 17
Spain, condition of, 94
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3. MODERN SCIENCE & MODERN THOUGHT.
By SAMUEL LAING.
With Illustrations.
4. LITERATURE AND DOGMA:
Apprehension of the Bible.
An Essay Towards a Better
By MATTHEW ARNOLD.
5. THE RIDDLE OF THE UNIVERSE.
By Professor
ERNST HAECKEL.
6. EDUCATION :
INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, & PHYSICAL.
By HERBERT SPENCER.
7. THE EVOLUTION OF THE IDEA OF GOD. By
GRANT ALLEN.
8. HUMAN
ORIGINS.
EDWARD CLODD.
By SAMUEL LAING.
With Illustrations.
Revised
by
9. THE SERVICE OF MAN.
By j. cotter morison.
With “ In Memoriam ” Introduction by FREDERIC HARRISON.
10. TYNDALL’S LECTURES AND ESSAYS.
(A SELECTION.)
With Biographical Sketch of the Author.
11. THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES. By Charles darwin.
12. EMERSON’S ADDRESSES AND ESSAYS. (A
SELECTION.)
With Introduction by Dr. STANTON COIT.
13. ON LIBERTY.
By J. S. MILL.
With Biographical Sketch of the Author.
6d. each, by post 8d.; Nos. 1 to 13 post free 6s. 6d.
Nos. 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13 may be had in cloth, Is. each, by post
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�
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Pamphlet
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Title
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Haeckel's critics answered
Creator
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McCabe, Joseph [1867-1955]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 128 p. ; 22 cm.
Series title: R.P.A. Extra Series
Series number: No. 2
Notes: Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Includes bibliographical references and index. Printed in double columns. Issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited. Stamp on title page and elsewhere: 'Bishopsgate Institute Reference Library'. Selections from publisher's list and R.P.A. Cheap Reprint series listed inside back cover and back page respectively.
Publisher
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Watts & Co.
Date
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1903
Identifier
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RA821
N444
Subject
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Philosophy
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (London Secular Tract Society's Tract No. 2), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Ernst Haeckel
Evolution
Monism
NSS
Religion and science
-
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PDF Text
Text
PROFESSOR TYNDALL’S
INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
[From The Inquirer of September 5, 1874.]
HE Inaugural Address delivered at Belfast, on
August 19, by Professor Tyndall, President of
the British Association, has probably come like a
thunder-clap to thousands who have read it or heard
of it. For here is one of the strongest, one of the
most generally acknowledged, representatives of
science, the chief, indeed, of the highest scientific
society in the world, from the very throne of science
—the presidential chair—speaking what will seem to
multitudes no other, than the most undisguised
Materialism, which to them will also be the blankest
Atheism. For it will seem the burden of the Address,
that matter alone is the mother and cause of all things,
and that beside it there is no other cause. No God,
no human soul.
When so intelligent a journal as the Spectator thus
interprets the Address in the issue immediately after
its delivery, we may be sure that thousands of persons
will thus interpret it also. And this word of Tyndall,
coming from such a source, supported by such pres
tige and such authority, will make the hearts of many
quail and sicken with fear and sadness. They will
feel a great darkness falling on them. The same
doctrine they will no doubt have often heard before,
but not from such a quarter, with such distinctness,
and coming with such terrible weight. They have
T
�2
thought of it hitherto as the craze of individual and
eccentric scientists, but now it comes as the testimony
of the whole spirit of science, past and present,
spoken through the mouthpiece of one of her latest
and greatest sons. And the thought cannot but
whisper itself: “ Is it, then, really true, or, if not
true, is science going to be all-powerful and make it
seem true, and so make it ultimately prevail ? If so,
then hope and faith must fade. Religion will have
no place. Prayer and preaching will cease. All the
various creeds through which we believe and about
which we contend will equally vanish. Religious
societies will be dissolved, and the whole spirit of
our civilisation must be changed, so that it is terribleto think what the future ages may be.”
We cannot wonder that already the tocsin of alarm
has resounded from many a pulpit. We may be sure
that for months, perhaps years to come, there will be
heard from thousands of pulpits protests, arguments,
denunciations, pleadings, intended to lay the terrible
ghosts which this memorable Address has raised.
But what is it that Dr Tyndall has really said to
cause such sensation and such fear ? He has simply
said out boldly what science has been really saying,
though often with timid, hesitating speech, for many a
year, we may say for many an age. It is this : that
matter, as we become more and more acquainted with it,
shows itself to us as capable, by its own inherent laws
and forces, of developing into all the forms and causing
all the phenomena in the universe that we witness or
experience. And so with matter given to begin with,
existing it may be in its crudest form, but still with
all its inherent laws and forces, there is no need of
any other Being, any Creator, any God to mould it,
for it will infallibly mould itself. It is but the same
thought with a wider extension which Laplace
uttered : “ I ask no more than the laws of motion,
heat, and gravitation, and I will write you the
nativity and biography of the solar system.”
�3
Yet do not let us be alarmed through mistaking
the real force and bearing of this apparently most
materialistic affirmation. Observe at the outset the
expression, that matter being given with its inherent
laws and forces, no other creator is necessary to
mould it. Surely not, we, too, say, because the
Creator, the eternal former and sustainer, is in the
laws and forces : they are but the expression of his
action. It is not, then, against the idea of God
Himself that the hostility of science, as represented
by the President of the British Association, is
directed, but against a form of thought in which
men in general have clothed God and presented him
to their minds. They have thought of Him under
the image of a Great Artificer, one who, using matter
as his raw material, worked it up by his power and
skill into the forms which we behold. It is this
thought of an Almighty Artificer, separate from
matter, that science cannot tolerate. But the de
struction of this form of thought, instead of plunging
us into the darkness of Atheism, opens upon us the
light of true Theism. It leaves us free to form
another far grander and worthier thought of God,
that of the In-dwelling, all-forming, and all-sustaining
Spirit of the Universe, which it is clear that Dr Tyndall
recognises under what he calls a Cosmical life—that
is, a life of the Universe.
The truth is, that this conception of God as the
Great Artificer has been inadequate and erroneous
from the beginning. We can now see that it was an
idol, because not the highest conception that we can
form, though perhaps inevitable to the times of
ignorance at which God has winked. And science,
like a young Abraham, has sought from its very
youth to break the idol in pieces. This is why
science has seemed so Atheistic in its tendencies.
The legend of Abraham preserved in the Koran is,
that when he was a young man he went into one of
the temples of his people in their absence and broke
�in pieces all the idols except the biggest there.
Abraham’s hostile feeling towards the idols was
known. He was arrested and brought before the
Assembly. “ Hast thou done this unto our gods,
O Abraham ? ” they inquired. “Nay, that biggest
of them has done the deed : ask them, if they can
speak.” For a time the people were confounded
with his reply, but soon recovered to say to oneanother, “Burn him, and avenge your gods.” The
young Abraham, science, conceived from the first a
hostility to the idol of an artificer God set up in the
temple of man’s mind, and sought to destroy it.
Dr Tyndall’s Address is partly a history of these
endeavours of science to break in pieces the idol.
He tells how in the infancy of Greek science Demo
critus, the laughing philosopher, declared his uncom
promising antagonism to those who deduced the
phenomena of nature from the gods. Empedocles,
who probably met death in his zeal for science in the
burning crater of Etna, and then Epicurus, followed
in the footsteps of Democritus. In the century
before Christ the Roman poet Lucretius boldly
announced the doctrine that Nature was sufficient for
herself. “If,” said he, “you will apprehend and
keep in mind these things, Nature, free at once and
rid of her high lords (the gods and demons), is seen
to do all things spontaneously of herself without the
meddling of the gods.” Whilst science slept, during
the Middle Ages, the voice of protest was not heard;
but when she awoke again, in the era of the Refor
mation, Giordano Bruno, once an Italian monk, again
raised the old witness, and declared that the infinity
of forms under which matter appears were not
imposed upon it by an external artificer. “ By its
own intrinsic force and virtue f he said, “ it brings
these forms forth. Matter is not the mere naked,
empty capacity which philosophers have pictured it,
but the universal mother who brings forth all things
as the fruit of her womb.” And the devotees of the
�5
idol, an artificer god, which he sought to break in
pieces, said, “Burn him, and avenge your god.” And
the Venetian Inquisitors did burn him at the stake.
Taking up Tyndall’s thought, we can now see that
the whole progress of science has seemed to strengthen
the protest and to give more strength to the doctrine
of Lucretius and Bruno, that “ matter, by its own
intrinsic force and virtue, brings these forms (of
nature) forth.”
Newton’s “Principia” went to show that, given,
in matter, the force and law of gravitation and the
laws of motion, there needed no artificer now to
conduct the solar system. The nebular hypothesis
of Kant and Laplace set forth that matter originally
needed no artificer to mould it into worlds, if we
suppose its particles scattered abroad in space
endowed with repulsion and attraction. They would
of themselves form rings, planets, satellites, and sun.
Dalton’s Chemistry showed that if we suppose a few
kinds of primordial atoms of different magnitudes, or
endowed with different forces and possessing certain
laws of attractive affinity, no artificer is necessary to
combine them into the innumerable compounds and
endow them with the qualities with which we are
familiar.
Darwin’s “ Origin of Species ” and
“ Descent of Man ” suggested that, given certain
organic forms of lowly type, no artificer was needed
to construct all the countless forms of organic nature.
For there were in these lowly forms intrinsic force and
virtue, by which they develop into higher forms, and
these into higher, until the ascidian becomes the man.
Herbert Spencer, and now Tyndall, suggest that even
in the inorganic forms of air, water, phosphorus, and
a few other elements, there are intrinsic force and
virtue to make them at some period or other of the
world’s history—Bastian says to make them now—of
themselves combine and form organisms of low type,
which develop, according to Darwin’s idea, even into
higher type ; therefore these inorganic atoms possess
�6
a latent life. Huxley would persuade us not only
that these inorganic atoms come in organic forms to
live, but that in the human brain they think and feel
and will. Thus every line of scientific inquiry seems
to have led to larger and larger belief in Bruno’s
intrinsic force and virtue of matter, making more
and more needless the conception of a Supreme
Artificer.
But we shall be mistaken if we suppose that this
antagonism between matter and God—that is, God
as the Artificer—has been felt only in the world of
science. It has been felt, too, though with less open
confession, in the world of religion. It has been
felt, it may be, where ignorance was bliss. As long
as science was unknown or ignored in the Church,
as during the Middle Ages, religions minds could
hold the belief in an artificer God without misgiving.
But as soon as science began to creep into the Church,
the paralysis of faith began. From that moment was
acted over again the story which the Greek poets
give us of the Theban Sphinx, the beautiful monster,
half-maid, half-lion, who, sitting on a rock, proposed
enigmas to the passers-by, and those who could not
answer them destroyed.
Beautiful but terrible science became the Sphinx.
She was always proposing to those who came near
her the enigma, “How can matter, which seems to
have force and virtue in it sufficient to account for
all things, have any need for an artificer Creator ? ”
And those who could not answer the question were
lost as to their faith in God. This, we believe, is
partly the explanation of the coldness and deadness
that came upon our Churches, especially our Pres
byterian Churches, during the last century. Ministers
and people had become more educated, they had
learnt something of the new science that was rising;
and then they heard the enigma of the Sphinx and
were troubled. Thenceforth it was a struggle with
them to believe. They had lost the child-like faith of
�7
their fathers. The old heartiness of prayer was gone.
Ministers and people began to be shy of strictly reli
gious topics, and to fall back on these ethical common
places of which they were more sure. And if this
same coldness and deadness has lasted on in some of
our churches till our own day, we suspect it has been
because there the old conception of God as the Arti
ficer has been maintained, whilst all the while the
Sphinx has been putting the question which has made
it unbelievable ; and that it is chiefly where the new
conception of the In-dwelling God has been introduced
through the influence of men like Dr Channing,
Martineau, and Theodore Parker, that the devotional
life has been again quickened and deepened.
Truly, then, men like Tyndall and Huxley, Spencer
and Darwin, with the terrible weapons of their
materialism, do but break down an old and much
battered idol which has long been the cause of dread
ful doubts, even to its own devotees, and has set
religion and science at bitter variance. But in
breaking down the idol they are doing us the greatest
service. They are letting in the light; they are
leaving us face to face with a conception of God
before hidden from us by our idol, but which presents
him to us not only in a form which science will allow
—before which, indeed, science and religion become
one—but in a form which is immeasurably grander,
more beautiful, and every way worthier of God than
that which has been broken down. Let us clearly
recognise that, when Tyndall claims for matter that
it is sufficient for everything, he is not thinking of
matter as that dead brute thing which the mass of
men suppose it. To him, as to Herbert Spencer,
matter is but the manifestation of a Great Entity, in
itself unknown and unknowable. It is but the
garment of what Tyndall calls the great cosmical
life—the great life of the cosmos—the Universe.
What is this Great Entity, what is this Great
Cosmical Life, but the Eternal God Himself, of whom,
�8
and through whom, and to whom are all things, who
“besets us behind and before,” and “ in whom we
live and move and have our being ” ? What is this
■conception suggested of the relation of God to the
world but that of the Psalmist—“The heavens shall
wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt
thou change them ” ? And what is this doctrine of
the unknown and unknowable life but that of Job?
“Lo ! these are parts of his ways, but how little a
portion is heard of him ! but the thunder of his power
who can understand ? ”
T. E. P.
FRITTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTEKEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
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Pamphlet
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Title
A name given to the resource
Professor Tyndall's inaugural address
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 4 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Signed 'T.E.P.'; possibly Thomas Elford Poynting. The Address was given in Belfast to the British Association for the Advancement of Science on August 19, 1874. Reprinted from 'The Inquirer', September 5, 1874. Printed by C.W. Reynell, Little Pulteney Street, London. "The address before the annual meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science was an occasion to state the aims and concerns of the premiere body of elite men of Victorian science. It was consequently one of the most prestigious places from which to pronounce on what men of science should be doing. John Tyndall famously used his address in 1874 to argue for the superior authority of science over religious or non-rationalist explanations. By the time of this address the Association had largely been taken over by the young guard, men like T.H. Huxley and Tyndall. Nevertheless, Tyndall's bold statement for rationalism and natural law was made in Belfast, a stronghold of religious belief then as now and so it was taken as an aggressive attack on religion. The address was popularly believed to advocate materialism as the true philosophy of science. It remains a powerful call for rationalism, consistency and scepticism." From Victorianweb: http://www.victorianweb.org/science/science_texts/belfast.html [accessed 12/2017].
Publisher
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[Thomas Scott]
Date
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[1874]
Identifier
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G5529
Creator
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[Unknown]
Subject
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Philosophy
Rationalism
Rights
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Professor Tyndall's inaugural address), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Conway Tracts
Materialism
Natural Law
Philosophy and Science
Rationalism
Science and Religion
-
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c6758be3ebab8854bc0662f23b23d2ae
PDF Text
Text
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
, NXHONALSECUlMaötU^
COLONEL ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.
LONDON:
FREETHOUGHT PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28, Stonecutter Street, E.C.
PRICE TWOPENCE.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY ANNIE BESANT AND CHARLES BRADLAUGH
28, STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�6 0.73S
Kl 3.77
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
The Universe is Governed by Law.
Great men seem to be part of the infinite, brothers of the
mountains and the seas. Humboldt was one of these. He
was one of those serene men, in some respects like our own
Franklin, whose names have all the lustre of a star. He was
one of the few great enough to rise above the superstition
and prejudice of his time, and to know that experience,
observation, and reason are the only basis of knowledge.
He became one of the greatest of men, in spite of having
been born rich and noble—in spite of position. I say in
spite of these things, because wealth and position are gene
rally the enemies of genius, and the destroyers of talent.
It is often said of this or that man, that he is a self-made
man—that he was born of the poorest and humblest of
parents, and that, with every obstacle to overcome, he became
great. This is a mistake. Poverty is generally an advan
tage. Most of the intellectual giants of the world have been
nursed at the sad and loving breast of poverty. Most of
those who have climbed highest on the shining ladder of
fame commenced at the lowest round. They were reared
in the straw-thatched cottages of Europe ; in the log-houses
of America; in the factories of the great cities ; in the
midst of toil; in the smoke and din of labour, and on the
verge of want. They were rocked by the feet of mothers
whose hands, at the same time, were busy with the needle
or the wheel.
It is hard for the rich to resist the thousand allurements
of pleasure, and so I say, that Humboldt, in spite of having
�4
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
been born to wealth and high social position, became truly
and grandly great.
. In the antiquated and romantic castle of Tegel by the
side of the pine forest, on the shore of the charming lake
near the beautiful city of Berlin, the great Humboldt, one
hundred years ago, was born, and there he was educated
after the method suggested by Rousseau,—Campe, the
philologist and critic, and the intellectual Kunth being his
tutors. There he received the impressions that determined
his career; there the great idea that the Universe is governed
by law took possession of his mind, and there he dedicated
his life to the demonstration of this sublime truth.
He came to the conclusion that the source of man’s un
happiness is his ignorance of nature.
After having received the most thorough education at that
time possible, and having determined to what end he would
devote the labours of his life, he turned his attention to the
sciences of geology, mining, mineralogy, botany and distri
bution of plants, the distribution of animals, and the effect
of climate upon man. All grand physical phenomena were
investigated and explained. From his youth he had felt a
great desire for travel. He felt, as he says, a violent passion
for the sea, and longed to look upon Nature in her wildest
and most rugged forms. He longed to give a physical de
scription of the Universe—a grand picture of Nature; to
account for all phenomena ; to discover the laws governing
the world ; to do away with that splendid delusion called
special providence, and to establish the fact that the Universe
is governed by law.
To establish this truth was, and is, of infinite importance
to mankind. That fact is the death-knell of superstition ; it
gives liberty to every soul, annihilates fear, and ushers in the
age of reason.
The object of this illustrious man was to comprehend the
phenomena of physical objects in their general connection,
and to represent Nature as one great whole, moved and
animated by internal forces.
For this purpose he turned his attention to descriptive
botany, traversing distant lands and mountain ranges to
ascertain definitely the geographical distribution of plants.
He investigated the laws regulating the differences of
temperature and climate, and the changes of the atmo
sphere. He studied the formation of the earth’s crust,
explored the deepest mines, ascended the highest moun
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
5
tains, and wandered through the craters of extinct vol
canoes.
He became thoroughly acquainted with chemistry, with
astronomy, with terrestrial magnetism ; and as the investiga
tion of one subject leads to all others, for the reason that
there is a mutual dependence and a necessary connection
between all facts, so Humboldt became acquainted with all
the known sciences.
His fame does not depend so much upon his discoveries
(although he discovered enough to make hundreds of repu
tations), as upon his vast and splendid generalization.
He was to Science what Shakespeare was to the drama.
He found, so to speak, the world full of unconnected
facts—all portions of a vast system—parts of a great
machine. He discovered the connection which each bears
to all, put them together, and demonstrated beyond all con
tradiction that the earth is governed by law.
He knew that to discover the connection of phenomena
is the primary aim of all natural investigation. He was in
finitely practical.
Origin and destiny were questions with which he had
nothing to do.
His surroundings made him what he was.
In accordance with a law not fully comprehended he was
a production of his time.
Great men do not live alone; they are surrounded by the
great; they are the instruments used to accomplish the ten
dencies of their generation; they fulfil the prophecies of
their age.
Nearly all the scientific men of the eighteenth century
had the same idea entertained by Humboldt, but most of
them in a dim and confused way. There was, however, a
general belief among the intelligent that the world is
governed by law, and that there really exists a connection
between all facts, or that all facts are simply the different
aspects of a general fact, and that the task of science is to
discover this connection, to comprehend this general fact, or
to announce the laws of things.
Germany was full of thought, and her universities swarmed
with philosophers and grand thinkers in every department of
knowledge.
Humboldt was the friend and companion of the greatest
poets, historians, philologists, artists, statesmen, critics, and
logicians of his time.
�6
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
. _ He was the companion of Schiller, who believed that man
would be regenerated through the influence of the Beautiful;
of Goethe, the grand patriarch of German literature; of
Weiland, who has been called the Voltaire of Germany; of
Herder, who wrote the outlines of a philosophical history of
man of Kotzebue, who lived in the world of romance; of
Schleiermacher, the pantheist; of Schlegel, who gave to his
countrymen the enchanted realm of Shakespeare; of the
sublime Kant, author of the first work published in Germany
on Pure Reason; of Fichte, the infinite idealist; of
Schopenhauer, the European Buddhist, who followed the
great Gautama to the painless and dreamless Nirwana, and
of hundreds of others, whose names are familiar to, and
honoured by, the scientific world.
The German mind had been grandly roused from the long
lethargy of the dark ages of ignorance, fear, and faith.
Guided by the holy light of reason, every department of
knowledge was investigated, enriched, and illustrated.
Humboldt breathed the atmosphere of investigation• old
ideas were abandoned; old creeds, hallowed by centuries,
were thrown aside ; thought became courageous; the athlete,
Reason, challenged to mortal combat the monsters of
superstition.
No wonder that, under these influences, Humboldt
formed the great purpose of presenting to the world a picture
of Nature, in order that men might, for the first time, behold
the face of their mother.
Europe became too small for his genius; he visited the
tropics in the New World, where, in the most circumscribed
limits, he could find the greatest number of plants, of
animals, and the greatest diversity of climate, that he might
ascertain the laws governing the production and distribution
or plants, animals, and men, and the effects of climate upon
them all.
He sailed along the gigantic Amazon; the
mysterious Oronoco; traversed the Pampas; climbed the
Andes until he stood upon the crags of Chimborazo, more
than eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, and
climbed on until blood flowed from his eyes and lips. For
nearly five years he pursued his investigations in the New
World, accompanied by the intrepid Bonpland. Nothing
escaped his attention. He was the best intellectual organ
of these new revelations of science. He was calm, reflective
and eloquent; filled with the sense of the beautiful and the
love of truth. His collections were immense, and valuable
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
7
beyond calculation to every science. He endured innume
rable hardships, braved countless dangers in unknown savage
lands, and exhausted his fortune for the advancement of
true learning.
Upon his return to Europe, he was hailed as toe second
'Columbus ; as the scientific discoverer of America ; as the
revealer of a New World; as the great demonstrator of the
sublime truth, that the Universe is governed by law.
I have seen a picture of the old man, sitting upon the
•mountain side, above him the eternal snow, below, the
smiling valley of the tropics filled with vine and palm, his
chin upon his breast, his eyes deep, thoughtful, and calm,
his forehead majestic—grander than the mountain upon
which he sat—-crowned with the snow of his whitened hair,
he looked the intellectual autocrat of this world.
Not satisfied with his discoveries in America, he crossed
the steppes of Asia, the wastes of Siberia, the great Ural
wange, adding to the knowledge of mankind at every step.
His energy acknowledged no obstacle, his life knew no
leisure ; every day was filled with labour and with thought..
He was one of the apostles of Science, and he served his
divine Master with a self-sacrificing zeal that knew no
abatement; with an ardour that constantly increased, and
with a devotion unwavering and constant as the polar
star.
In order that the people at large might have the benefit
of his numerous discoveries and his vast knowledge, he
delivered, at Berlin, a course of lectures, consisting of sixtyone free addresses upon the following subjects:
Five, upon the nature and limits of physical geography.
Three were devoted to a history of Science.
Two, to inducements to a study of natural science.
Sixteen, on the heavens.
Five, on the form, density, latent heat and magnetic power
of the earth, and the polar light.
Four were on the nature of the crust of the earth, on hot
springs, earthquakes and volcanoes.
Two, on mountains and the type of their formation.
Two, on the form of the earth’s surface, on the connection
of continent, and the elevation of soil over ravines.
Three, on the sea as a globular fluid surrounding the
earth.
Ten, on the atmosphere as an elastic fluid surrounding the
earth, and on the distribution of heat.
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
One, on the geographic distribution- of organized matter
in general.
Three, on the geography of plants.
Three, on the geography of animals, and
Two, on the races of men.
These lectures are what is known as the Cosmos, and
present a scientific picture of the world, of infinite diversity
and unity, of ceaseless motion in the eternal grasp of law.
These lectures contain the result of his investigation,,
observation and experience; they furnish the connection;
between phenomena; they disclose some of the changes,
through which the earth has passed in the countless ages;
the history of vegetation, animals, and men; the effects of
climate upon individuals and nations, the relation we sustain
to other worlds, and demonstrate that all phenomena, whether
insignificant or grand, exist in accordance with inexorable
law.
There are some truths, however, that we never should
forget. Superstition has always been the relentless enemy
of science; faith has been a hater of demonstration;
hypocrisy has been sincere only in its dread of truth, and all
religions are inconsistent with mental freedom.
Since the murder of Hypatia, in the fifth century, when
the polished blade of Greek philosophy was broken by the
club of ignorant Catholicism, until to-day, superstition has
detested every effort of reason.
It is almost impossible to conceive of the completeness of
the victory that the Church achieved over philosophy. For
ages science was utterly ignored; thought was a poor slave;
an ignorant priest was the master of the world; faith put out
the eyes of the soul; the reason was a trembling coward;
the imagination was set on fire of hell; every human feeling;
was sought to be suppressed ; love was considered infinitely
sinful, pleasure was the road to eternal fire, and God was
supposed to be happy only when his children were miserable.
The world was governed by an Almighty’s whim ; prayers
could change the order of things, halt the grand procession
of Nature; could produce rain, avert pestilence, famine, and
death in all its forms. There was no idea of the certain ;
all depended upon divine pleasure, or displeasure rather;
heaven was full of inconsistent malevolence, and earth of
ignorance. Everything was done to appease the divine
wrath; every public calamity was caused by the sins of the
people ; by a failure to pay tithes, or for having, even in.
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
9
secret, felt a disrespect for a priest. To the poor multitude,
the earth was a kind of enchanted forest, full of demons,
ready to devour, and theological serpents lurking with infinite
power to fascinate and torture the unhappy and impotent
soul. Life to them was a dim and mysterious labyrinth, in
which they wandered weary and lost, guided by priests as.
bewildered as themselves, without knowing that at every step
the Ariadne of reason offered them the long lost clue.
The very heavens were full of death ; the lightning was.
regarded as the glittering vengeance of God, and the earth
was thick with snares for the unwary feet of man. The soul
was supposed to be crowded with the wild beasts of desire;,
the heart to be totally corrupt, prompting only to crime;
virtues were regarded as only deadly sins in disguise; therewas a continual warfare being waged between the Deity and
the Devil, for the possession of every soul; the latter being;
generally considered victorious. The flood, the tornado, the
volcano, were all evidences of the displeasure of heaven and
the sinfulness of man. The blight that withered, the frost
that blackened, the earthquake that devoured, were the
messengers of the Creator.
The world was governed by fear.
Against all the evils of nature, there was known only the
defence of prayer, of fasting, of credulity, and devotion.
Man in his helplessness endeavoured to soften the heart of God.
The faces of the multitude were blanched with fear and wet
with tears; they were the prey of hypocrites, kings, andpriests.
My heart bleeds when I contemplate the sufferings endured
by the millions now dead; of those who lived when the
» .-world appeared to be insane; when the heavens were filled
with an infinite Horror, who snatched babes with dimpled
hands and rosy cheeks from the white breasts of mothers, and
dashed them into an abyss of eternal flame.
Slowly, beautifully, like the coming of the dawn, came the
grand truth that the Universe is governed by law; that
disease fastens itself upon the good and upon the bad; that
the tornado cannot be stopped by counting beads; that the
rushing lava pauses not for bended knees; the lightning for
clasped and uplifted hands ; nor the cruel waves of the sea
for prayer; that paying tithes causes, rather than prevents,
famine; that pleasure is not sin ; that happiness is the only
good; that demons and gods exist only in the imagination;
that faith is a lullaby sung to put the soul to sleep; that
devotion is a bride that fear offers to supposed power; that
�IO
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
offering rewards in another world for obedience in this, is
simply buying a soul on credit; that knowledge consists in
ascertaining the laws of nature, and that wisdom is the science
of happiness. Slowly, grandly, beautifully, these truths are
dawning upon mankind.
From Copernicus we learn that this earth is only a grain
of sand on the infinite shore of the Universe; that every
where we are surrounded by shining worlds, vastly greater
than our own, all moving and existing in accordance with
law. True, the earth began to grow small, but man began
to grow great.
The moment the fact was established that other worlds
are governed by law, it was only natural to conclude that
our little world was also under its dominion.
The old
theological method of accounting for physical phenomena
by the pleasure and displeasure of the Deity was, by the
intellectual, abandoned. They found that disease, death,
life, thought, heat, cold, the seasons, the winds, the dreams
of man, the instinct of animals—in short, that all physical
and mental phenomena are governed by law, absolute, eternal
and inexorable.
Let it be understood, that by the term law is meant the
same invariable relations of succession and resemblance
predicated of all facts springing from like conditions. Law
is a fact—not a cause. It is a fact, that like conditions
produce like results; this fact is Law. When we say that the
Universe is governed by law, we mean that this fact, called
law, is incapable of change—that it has been, and forever
will be, the same inexorable, immutable Fact, inseparable
from all phenomena. Law, in this sense, was not enacted
or made. It eould not have been otherwise than as it is.
That which necessarily exists has no creator.
Only a few years ago this earth was considered the real
centre of the universe; all the stars were supposed to revolve
•around this insignificant atom. The German mind, more
than any other, has done away with this piece of egotism.
Purbach and Mulleras, in the fifteenth century, contributed
most to the advancement of astronomy in their day. To
the latter, the world is indebted for the introduction of
decimal fractions, which completed our arithmetical no
tation and formed the second of the three steps, by
which, in modern times, the science of numbers has been
so greatly improved; and yet both of these men believed
in the most childish absurdities, at least in enough of
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
11
them, to die without their orthodoxy having ever been
suspected.
Next came the great Copernicus, and he stands at the head
of the heroic thinkers of his time who had the courage and
the mental strength to break the chains of prejudice, custom,
and authority, and to establish truth on the basis of ex
perience, observation, and reason. He removed the earth,
so to speak, from the centre of the Universe, and ascribed
to it a two-fold motion, and demonstrated the true position
which it occupies in the solar system.
At his bidding the earth began to revolve, at the command
of his genius it commenced its grand flight ’mid the eternal
constellations round the sun.
For fifty years his discoveries were disregarded. All at
once, by the exertions of Galileo, they were kindled into so
grand a conflagration as to consume the philosophy of
Aristotle, to alarm the hierarchy of Rome, and to threaten
the existence of every opinion not founded upon experience,
observation, and reason.
The earth was no longer considered a Universe, governed
by the caprices of some revengeful deity, who had made the
stars out of what he had left after completing the world, and
had stuck them in the sky, simply to adorn the night.
I have said this much concerning astronomy because it
was the first splendid step forward ; the first sublime blow
that shattered the lance and shivered the shield of super
stition ; the first real help that man received from heaven,
because it was the first great lever placed beneath the altar
of a false religion ; the first revelation of the infinite to man ;
the first authoritative declaration that the Universe is
governed by law ; the first science that gave the lie direct
to the cosmogony of barbarism, and because it is the sublimest
victory that the reason has achieved.
In speaking of astronomy, I have confined myself to the
discoveries made since the revival of learning. Long ago,
on the banks of the Ganges, ages before Copernicus lived,
Aryabhatta taught that the earth is a sphere, and revolves on
its own axis. This, however, does not detract from the
glory of the great German. The discovery of the Hindoo
had been lost in the midnight of Europe—in the age of
faith, and Copernicus was as much a discoverer as though
Aryabhatta had never lived.
In this short address there is no time to speak of other
sciences, and to point out the particular evidence furnished
�12
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
by each, to establish the dominion of law, nor to more than
mention the name of Descartes, the first who undertook to
give an explanation of the celestial motions, or who formed
the vast and philosophic conception of reducing all the
phenomena of the Universe to the same law; of Montaigne,
one of the heroes of common sense; of Galvani, whose
experiments gave the telegraph to the world ; of Voltaire,
who contributed more than any other of the sons of men to
the destruction of religious intolerance; of Auguste Comte,
whose genius erected to itself a monument that still touches
the stars; of Gutenburg, Watt, Stephenson, Arkwright, all
soldiers of science in the grand army of the dead kings.
The glory of science is, that it is freeing the soul—break
ing the mental manacles—getting the brain out of bondage—•
giving courage to thought—filling the world with mercy,
justice, and joy.
Science found agriculture ploughing with a stick—reaping
with a sickle—commerce at the mercy of the treacherous
waves and the inconstant winds—a world without books—
without schools—man denying the authority of reason,
employing his ingenuity in the manufacture of instruments
of torture, in building inquisitions and cathedrals. It found
the land filled wtth malicious monks—with persecuting
Protestants and the burners of men. It found a world full
of fear; ignorance upon its knees; credulity the greatest
virtue; women treated like beasts of burden; cruelty the
only means of reformation. It found the world at the
mercy of disease and famine; men trying to read their fates
in the stars, and to tell their fortunes by signs and wonders;
generals thinking to conquer their enemies by making the
sign of the cross, or by telling a rosary. It found all history
full of petty and ridiculous falsehood, and the Almighty was
supposed to spend most of his time turning sticks into
snakes, drowning boys for swimming on Sunday, and killing
little children for the purpose of converting their parents.
It found the earth filled with slaves and tyrants, the people
in all countries down-trodden, half naked, half starved,
without hope, and without reason in the world.
Such was the condition of man when the morning of
science dawned upon his brain, and before he had heard the
sublime declaration that the Universe is governed by law.
For the change that has taken place we are indebted solely
to science—the only lever capable of raising mankind.
Abject faith is barbarism ; reason is civilization. To obey
�ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
13
is slavish; to act from a sense of obligation perceived by the
reason is noble. Ignorance worships mystery; reason ex
plains it: the one grovels, the other soars.
No wonder that fable is the enemy of knowledge. A man
with a false diamond shuns the society of lapidaries, and it
is upon this principle that superstition abhors science.
In all ages the people have honoured those who dis
honoured them. They have worshipped their destroyers,
they have canonized the most gigantic liars and ouried the
great thieves in marble and gold. Under the loftiest monu
ment sleeps the dust of murder.
Imposture has always won a crown.
The world is beginning to change because the people are
beginning to think. To think is to advance. Everywhere
the great minds are investigating the creeds and superstitions
of men, the phenomena of nature, and the laws of things.
At the head of this great army of investigators stood
Humboldt—the serene leader of an intellectual host—-a king
by the suffrage of science and the divine right of Genius.
And to-day we are not honouring some butcher called a
soldier, some wily politician called a statesman, some robber
called a king, nor some malicious metaphysician called a
saint. We are honouring the grand Humboldt, whose vic
tories were all achieved in the arena of thought; who
destroyed prejudice, ignorance, and error—not men; who
shed light—not blood, and who contributed to the know
ledge, the wealth and the happiness of all mankind.
His life was pure, his aims lofty, his learning varied and
profound, and his achievements vast.
We honour him because he has ennobled our race, be
cause he has contributed as much as any man living or dead
to the real prosperity of the world. We honour him because
he honoured us; because he laboured for others ; because he
was the most learned man of the most learned nation; be
cause he left a legacy of glory to every human being. For
these reasons he is honoured throughout the world.
Millions are doing- homage to his genius at this moment,
and millions are pronouncing his name with reverence and
recounting what he accomplished.
We associate the name of Humboldt with oceans, palms;
the wide deserts ; the snow-tipped craters of the Andes ; with
primeval forests and European capitals; wildernesses
and universities; with savages and savans; with the
lonely rivers of unpeopled wastes; with peaks and
�14
ORATION ON HUMBOLDT.
pampas, and. steppes, and cliffs, and crags j with the progress
of the world; with every science known to man, and with
every star glittering in the immensity of space.
. Humboldt adopted none of the soul-shrinking creeds of
his day ; wasted none of his time in the stupiditieSj inanities,
and contradiction of theological metaphysics; he did not
endeavour to harmonize the astronomy and geology of a
barbarous people with the science of the nineteenth century.
Never, for one moment, did he abandon the sublime
standard of truth; he investigated, he studied, he thought,
he separated the gold from the dross in the crucible of his
grand brain. He was never found on his knees before the
altar of superstition. He stood erect by the grand tranquil
column of reason. He was an admirer, a lover, and adorer
of nature, and at the age of ninety, bowed by the weight of
nearly a century, covered with the insignia of honour, loved
by a nation, respected by a world, with kings for his servants,
he laid his weary head upon her bosom—upon the bosom of
the Universal mother—and with her loving arms around him,
sank, into that slumber called death.
History added another name to the starry scroll of the
immortals.
The world is his monument; upon the eternal granite of
her hills he inscribed his name, and there upon everlasting
stone his genius wrote this, the sublimest of truths :
“ The Universe is Governed by Law.”
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Oration on Humboldt
Creator
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 14 p. ; 17 cm.
Notes: Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich Alexander von Humboldt was a Prussian polymath, geographer, naturalist, explorer, and influential proponent of Romantic philosophy and science. Printed by Annie Besant and Charles Bradlaugh. Date of publication from Stein's checklist (Item 37f). Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Freethought Publishing Company
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[1877]
Identifier
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N377
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Philosophy
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Oration on Humboldt), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
Alexander Von Humboldt
NSS