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Essays on Human Nature 
 
 my 
 
 W. M. Strickler, M.D. 
 
 ^ O -rHE 
 
 UW!VER3iT Y 
 
 OF 
 
 COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO : ; 1906 
 
EDliC. 
 
 PSYCH. 
 
 UBRART 
 
 M 
 
Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 Bringing Sunshine Into Life 5 
 
 Highest Good 15 
 
 Relation of .Ethics and Religion 22 
 
 Healthy Mindedness 30 
 
 Pessimism and Optimism 4.1 
 
 Nervous Derangements 53 
 
 Superstitions 64 
 
 Dreaming 76 
 
 Moral Insanity 87 
 
 Kinship of Genius and Insanity 101 
 
 Evolution 120 
 
 The Value of Moral Character 127 
 
 Formation and Effects of Character 131 
 
 Character, and Happiness as a Result 1 39 
 
 Causes of Happiness 1 50 
 
 ^oine Elements of Happiness] 161 
 
 The Pursuit of Happiness 1 73 
 
 The Effect of Happiness Upon Character .... 1 82 
 
 The World We Live In 188 
 
 The Problem of Poverty 195 
 
 Some Characters of Animals Which Are Common to Man 207 
 
 The Transmission of Acquired Characters . . . . 218 
 
 Herbert Spencer . 236 
 
 The Human Brain 249 
 
 Industrialism 261 
 
 The Fear of Death , 271 
 
Bringing Sunshine Into Life 
 
 If, instead of starting out to bring sunshine pri- 
 marily into the Hves of others, each one endeavored 
 to bring it into his own life, as the whole of 
 humanity embraces the lives of each, then all would 
 be included. In approaching the subject, I will say 
 I have none but common-sense methods to recom- 
 mend. Those who have only metaphysical and supei"- 
 natural ones generally prove themselves failures. 
 
 I will start out with the assumption that sunshine 
 arises from the pursuit of the highest good. But 
 what is the highest good? According to Bentham 
 and the Mill's, it is the promotion of general happi-' 
 ness, while according to Herbert Spencer, it is the 
 promotion, primarily, of self-happiness; while 
 according to Carlyle, it is a calumny to say that 
 men are moved to heroic actions by ease or hope of 
 pleasure of any kind in this world or the next. 'Tn 
 the meanest mortal there lies something better. It 
 is not to taste sweets, but to do something nobler, 
 that the poorest dimly longs. They wrong man 
 greatly who say he is seduced by ease." 
 
 John Fiske speaks of the desire for pleasure as 
 a low motive. I have no doubt that there are higher 
 ones, but notwithstanding the dictum of these men, 
 the desire for pleasure is universal, showing that if 
 is original in the human constitution, and that it 
 cuts a prodigous figure in the actions of men as is 
 evident to all. It is not only a mental act which 
 influences us, but the nervous energy of the body, 
 prompts to the pursuit of pleasure, for whatever 
 
 2- 
 
6 BRINGING SUNSHINIS INTO LIFE 
 
 promotes pleasure promotes the well being of the 
 body — health, life and longevity. 
 
 It is a property of organized matter to seek that 
 which is beneficial and avoid that which is injurious, 
 even whether consciousness or volition be present or 
 not. And then again, there is Professor Paulsen, 
 of the University of Berlin, who, without reference 
 to pleasure or pain, claims the highest good consists 
 in the ''exercise and development of life," meaning 
 our whole life, bodily, mental and moral. 
 
 This paper will be devoted to the advocacy of 
 this last view. According to this view, everything 
 we do, think or feel helps to carry out life, and con- 
 tributes that much toward fulfilling our destiny. 
 
 First as to the exercise of the body. After due 
 rest of the body, inaction becomes unpleasant, we 
 become restless, and we want to be out and about. 
 Stirring around gives us pleasure. It may not be 
 intense, and we may not duly appreciate it, and 
 neglect to reflect upon it. A little observation, how- 
 ever, shows its importance. Let one observe the 
 play of animals to see the joys of bodily exercise; 
 or watch the restlessness of the caged lion, and see 
 how he walks to and fro in his limited pen; or 
 observe the conduct of prisoners, and he will form 
 some idea of the value of bodily exercise. It seems 
 to scatter the energies and diffuse them through the 
 body, and brings about a feeling of well being or 
 health. Although this feeling may not be marked, 
 still it is a joy before which all other joys pale, for 
 without health there can be but little sunshine. 
 
 The importance of exercise to health cannot be 
 overestimated. Moderate exercise in healthy air 
 during various out-door occupations and pastimes 
 excites into activity most of the functions of the 
 body, especially the circulation of the blood and 
 respiration and other functions intimately connected 
 therewith. The vital powers gradually gain vigor 
 
BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 7 
 
 by activity, and the structures concerned in their 
 support acquire a fuller and healthier development. 
 The muscles especially, including the heart, manifest 
 increase of strength and firmness ; the blood vessels 
 are improved in tone so that they distribute, vigor- 
 ously and equally, the flow of blood and prevent 
 partial congestions and obstructions. The blood 
 itself, thus energetically carried through the organs 
 and textures, undergoes the complete series of 
 changes from nutrition, purification and arterial- 
 ization, by which its integrity is maintained, and 
 by which it is adapted to sustain the several func- 
 tions of the body. The appetite, the digestion, the 
 spirits, and temper, are generally all improved by 
 exercise. Instinctive activity, as such, is usually 
 pleasurable, whether mental accompaniments are 
 present or not. 
 
 And, further, energetic action is in itself a source 
 of pleasure. Experiments made by the dynamo- 
 meter, sphygmograph, pneumatagraph and pletys- 
 mograph show that pleasure is accompanied by 
 strengthened muscular activity, quickened pulse-beat 
 and respiration and increased peripheral circulation, 
 and we experience a feeling of general well being. 
 We are more alive, and glad that we are. Very 
 rapid and lively emotions produce a sort of intoxica- 
 tion and giddiness that are most delightful. Besides 
 these external effects of pleasurable feelings, they 
 are accompanied internally by heightened excitation 
 of the brain centers, which is accompanied in turn 
 by physiological pleasure on the mental side. Those 
 who can command the time will find it advantageous 
 to intersperse sedentary occupations with short 
 periods, if need be, of exercise, taken, if possible, in 
 the open air. If these be only for ten or fifteen min- 
 utes at a time twice or thrice in the forenoon and 
 afternoon, they will contribute considerably to 
 counteract the bad effects of confinement, and, by 
 
8 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 
 
 giving a fresh impulse to circulation and respiration, 
 will remove congestion, cool the head, warm the feet, 
 and thus refresh both body and mind. 
 
 How to get rid of our surplus nervous energy 
 is a great question. Although getting rid of it may 
 not ])roduce positive happiness, it relieves us of the 
 misery its excess produces. The accompanying 
 newspaper clipping illustrates the subject: 
 
 "There's nothing like out-of-doors to drive the 
 blue devils away, to make up for something one has 
 lost, to make up for something one has never had. 
 WHien I think my family is disagreeable, I go for a 
 walk. WHien I know I am disagreeable, I go for a 
 walk. When my friends omit to send me invita- 
 tions, I go for a walk. When my clothes look time- 
 worn and discouraged, I go for a walk. When 
 ermine is the only fur worn, I go for a walk. When 
 my late sweetheart decided it was the other girl after 
 all, I stayed at home in a dark room and cried for 
 awhile. But afterwards I got up, and went for a 
 walk. And now it is all right." 
 
 In order to appreciate the effect of bodily exer- 
 cise on the mind, it is necessary to consider that the 
 mind is not confined to one corner of the body — the 
 brain, for instance. 
 
 More advance knowledge shows that every part 
 of the body is more or less associated with the mind. 
 Wherever there is a filament of a nerve or other 
 sensative structure, therein may arise influences 
 which may affect the mind. I remember reading of 
 a boy who had repeated convulsions and whose mind 
 was affected, and in whom nothing wrong could be 
 found other than a small blister on one of the toes, 
 convulsions and mental affection being relieved by 
 opening it. I remember, in my own practice, a boy 
 of lo, who was rendered unconscious and delirious 
 by having eaten excessively of peanuts. Showing 
 
BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 9 
 
 that an irritability exists in various parts of the 
 body which may lead to mental disturbances. 
 
 Since this is true, it is not strange that exercise, 
 which modifies the circulation in all parts of the 
 body, should greatly affect the mind — animate it 
 and rejuvenating it, and bring sunshine into life. 
 
 With regard to the development of the body, 
 further than to make it healthy and protect it against 
 changes of temperature, I shall have nothing further 
 to say other than that, while a full development is 
 desirable as a means of health, excessive develop- 
 ment, such as prize-fighters undergo, unless kept up 
 for a long time and then gradually allowed to 
 decline, is liable to undergo a deterioration which is 
 accompanied by unwholesome and depressing effects 
 upon both body and mind. 
 
 The exercise of our intellectual powers, the 
 manifold means of exciting our minds to activity in 
 the various divisions of labor and business, goes a 
 long way toward producing healthful mental 
 activity. There is something pleasant about the 
 passage of ideas through 'the mind, be they profitable 
 or otherwise. It is more agreeable than mental 
 inactivity. This is shown by the languor and 
 depression of ennui, or lack of mental occupation. 
 The brain, the organ of the mind, was made for 
 exercise. He that falls short in this respect misses 
 in so far his highest good, misses in so far the sun- 
 shine of life. ISTature has provided so amply for 
 activity in this part of our being by the large expan- 
 sion of the nervous system called the brain, and the 
 fact that it is amply supplied with blood, one-eighth 
 of the whole amount in the body going to it, which 
 means that there is about three pints of blood all 
 the time in the brain, these things meaning that it 
 was designed for great activity. It needs activity 
 as much as any other part of the body, and we suffer 
 if it is not actively employed. 
 
10 HRIXaJXG SUNSHJXJS INTO LIFE 
 
 Take a man who has been accustomed to mental 
 occupation, and mental idleness means an aching 
 void that nothing but mental exercise can fill. It is 
 true bodily exercise takes the place of mental action 
 to some extent, for tlie brain contains many of the 
 centers of muscular action ; but the mind is the 
 agent that promotes active circulation in it and gives 
 it real work. 
 
 If we would be liappy, if we would have sun- 
 shine in life, we must think, we must have passing 
 through our brains ideas, or sensations, or impulses 
 to activity, if for nothing else than to give this part 
 of our anatomy exercise . 
 
 And then again, pleasing mental impressions, 
 such as are afforded by beautiful scenery, congenial 
 associates and interesting pursuits, heighten the 
 benefits of bodily exercise, whereas mental idleness 
 weakens the intellect and prevents the proper func- 
 tions of the body. 
 
 When the circulation in the brain is active we 
 are competent for great things; w^e forget the 
 clouds, we forget, in fact, that we are born to die. 
 But when the blood flows languidly through the 
 brain, a mere shadow darkens into gloom and 
 threatens to overwhelm us. 
 
 If our employment fails to furnish us w-ith food 
 for thought and reflection, and if we have no subject 
 in mind to ponder over, we should read (and in 
 these days of public, circulating libraries, there is no 
 excuse for us if we do not). 
 
 A man who has acquired a taste for reading has 
 an invaluable possession, one that will protect him 
 against many a w^eary hour. Many a man fills a 
 suicide's grave w^ho might have been saved there- 
 from by such a taste. 
 
 The thought that our mental activity may lead 
 to usefulness of others by enlightening, benefiting 
 and entertaining them, should let sunshine into life. 
 
BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 11 
 
 And then the thought that we are fulfilHng our 
 destiny in doing what we are adapted to do, Hving 
 out our lives to the greatest completion, is still more 
 comforting. 
 
 The development of our minds, the constant 
 application of them, strengthens and unfolds, and if 
 the matter dwelt on has not this effect, it may yet 
 help to polish them by improving our style of think- 
 ing, writing and conversation. As we do not know 
 the extent of our capacity, and as it takes a great 
 deal of training to find out, the hope that it may be 
 great sustains and encourages us to put forth and 
 keep up culture, and at all events make the most of 
 ourselves. 
 
 As in the case of physical development, we need 
 fear no evil from an excessive development of our 
 intellectual faculties. One part of our mind may be 
 developed to the neglect of others, and this needs to 
 be guarded against, but the excessive development 
 of the whole mind needs scarcely to be feared. 
 
 The exercise and development of the moral 
 powers — these are the last to present themselves 
 in life, — the capacity to distinguish good from 
 evil — this brings the age of accountability. We 
 have not only the power to make the distinction, but 
 the one is attended with approval, the other with 
 disapproval, and the feelings of disapproval are such 
 that if we would be happy and bring sunshine in our 
 lives, it stands us in hand to steer clear of the 
 qualms of a guilty conscience. The exercise and 
 development of our moral powers being an aim in 
 life, then we have here an employment for life, 
 to-wit: the building up of a moral character — our 
 own moral improvement. 
 
 It is fortunate there is one course open to us in 
 which the word failure is not written. And here is 
 where sunshine comes into life again, because fail- 
 ure is a too common word in the vocabulary of life. 
 
ij Hiaxc;/\(; sunshinb into life 
 
 As wc grow old, our bodily powers decline and all 
 of our mental powers fail. It is sad, but the mem- 
 ory fails so that we gradually lose the information 
 we have accumulated through long years, and there 
 seems little motive to try continually to lay up facts 
 to gradually leak away, or culture our powers of 
 intellect to finally fail. But the moral powers do not 
 fail. The effect of the long practice of right living, 
 of the practice of honesty, veracity and other virtues 
 upon them is to induce a habit which promises to be 
 lasting. It is true, disease may undermine our 
 moral powers, but it at the same time relieves us of 
 all responsibility. 
 
 The subjugation of gross appetites, the subordi- 
 nation of all trubulent or violent moral and mental 
 emotions, the cultivation of the gentle and contem- 
 plative feelings best fostered in domestic life; in 
 the cultivation of these virtues, a strong habit is 
 formed which enters so deeply into our being that 
 it will carry us through to the end or else prove the 
 best safeguard we could possibly have. 
 
 "A good moral character," to quote the language 
 of Professor Maudsley, ''implies the development of 
 one's self — the development of one's faculties and 
 one's self-control. What an object to set before 
 one's self! If we all aimed for that object, there 
 would be much less disappointment and sorrow in 
 the world. If we all aimed at self-development, we 
 would all succeed in a measure; there would be 
 fewer failures. 
 
 ''How few, however, ever think of making self- 
 development an object in life. As a matter of fact, 
 it admits of no doubt that self-development is not 
 made a life aim; that such formation of character 
 as takes place does, in the great majority of men, 
 take place, as it were, by chance, without premedita- 
 tion, as an incidental effect of the discipline and 
 
BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 13 
 
 training which they undergo in the pursuit of other 
 hfe aims. 
 
 'The formation of a character, in which the 
 thoughts, feeHngs and actions are under the habitual 
 guidance of a well-fashioned will, is perhaps the 
 hardest task in the world, being, when accomplished, 
 the highest effort of self-development. It represents 
 the attainment by conscious method of a harmony 
 of the individual nature in itself, and of the com- 
 pletest harmony between man and nature, a condi- 
 tion in which the individual has succeeded in making 
 the best of himself, of the human nature, with which 
 he has to do, and of the world in which he moves 
 and has his being. 
 
 "And yet, instead of this, riches, position, power, 
 applause of men, are placed by us as an object of 
 life — such things as inevitably breed and foster 
 many bad impressions in the eager competition to 
 attain them. 
 
 ''Hence, in fact, come disappointed ambition, 
 jealousy, grief from loss of fortune, all the torments 
 of wounded self-love, and a thousand other mental 
 sufferings. There need be no disappointed ambition 
 if a man were to set before himself a true aim in life, 
 and work definitely for it; no envy or jealousy if 
 he considered that it mattered not whether he did a 
 great thing or someone else did it, nature's only 
 concern being that it should be done; no wounded 
 self-love if he had learned well the eternal lesson 
 of life — self-renunciation." 
 
 All this may be without the aid of religion, so 
 that there is a morality independent of religion. As 
 is shown by the fact that Bode and Himaes, who are 
 honest and truthful, but have no word for God, for 
 soul. Heaven or Hell in their language. Yet he 
 feels himself constrained to try to be moral. At the 
 same time, a belief in a supreme existence seems 
 almost a necessity ; a necessity to anchor our minds. 
 
14 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 
 
 and he that looks upon the present arrangements of 
 rewards and punishments as an evidence of a Ruler 
 of the Universe, who is good, and in favor of 
 righteousness, has the best of the argimient. In 
 other words, religion is necessary to complete our 
 sunshine in life, and the development of our moral 
 powers. That they are entirely evolved, we do not 
 say, but do say that there is great difference between 
 the undeveloped conscience of the savage cannibal 
 and the highly cultivated conscience of the civilized 
 man ; and that among most of us there is still room 
 for improvement in discriminating the evil from the 
 good. At the same time there is such a thing as 
 danger of giving too much attention to the moral 
 aspect of things, as there may be developed a moral 
 sensitiveness that will keep us unhappy. As Steven- 
 son puts it : ''To be honest, to be kind, to make, 
 upon the whole, a family happier for one's presence ; 
 to keep a few friends, above all to keep friends with 
 one's self — here is a chance for all to bring sunshine 
 into life, and at the same time, a task worthy the 
 efforts and fortitude of all." 
 
Higher Good 
 
 In what does welfare or the highest good con- 
 sist? The highest good of the individual consists 
 in the perfect development and exercise of life. 
 Before giving a more detailed account of this con- 
 ception, however, I deem it wise to discuss another 
 view of the nature of the highest good. An influ- 
 ential ethical school contends that welfare, or the 
 highest good, consists in the feeling of pleasure 
 which life procures; that pleasure is the thing of 
 absolute worth, and that everything else has value 
 only in so far as it conduces to pleasure. Accord- 
 ing to this school, the subjective feeling of pleasure 
 is the absolute good. 
 
 According to another school, it is the develop- 
 ment of individual and social human life, regard- 
 less of whether it yields pleasure or not. 
 
 Is the teaching of the former school true or false, 
 and not is it good or bad? Theories are bad only 
 in so far as they are false. 
 
 Let me add, that pure and moral men have never 
 been wanting among the representatives of this 
 school, such as Bentham Mill, etc. 
 
 It would be absurd to say that human nature 
 does not esteem pleasure of absolute worth. And, 
 as a matter of fact, all living beings invariably and 
 universally strive after pleasure, and that pleasure 
 (or freedom from pain) is the only thing which is 
 desired absolutely, so claim the advocates of this 
 school. This we call in question. 
 
 What is the evidence of self-consciousness on 
 
 15 
 
ir> HIGH EST GOOD 
 
 this point? Does it reveal pleasure as an end and 
 everything else as means? 
 
 Let us first make clear to ourselves what we 
 mean hy ends and means: I am cold and desire to 
 get warm. I can accomplish my end in different 
 ways ; I can take exercise, I can put on warmer 
 clothes, or I can light a fire. For the latter I can 
 use wood, turf or coal. Here we have a pure 
 relation of means to end. The end is warmth, and 
 I desire it for its own sake. The means I desire 
 only for the sake of the end; in themselves they 
 are totally indifferent. 
 
 Now, does the same relation obtain between 
 human activities and pleasure? We sit dow^n at a 
 table hungry. Is pleasure our end, and eating 
 related to it as an absolutely indifferent means? 
 ^N"© ; we eat because we are hungry. Hunger impels 
 us to eat. The state of the body, indicating that 
 food is needed, impels us. It is true, pleasure 
 ensues, but this pleasure did not pre-exist in con- 
 sciousness as an end. We eat to fulfill our natures, 
 that is because it is natural for us to eat. 
 
 We come into this world with bodies possessed 
 of a certain amount of energy. It is natural for 
 the child to want to work off that energy by exer- 
 cising its limbs, and it does exercise them, long 
 before it has an idea of the pleasure it will afford. 
 By its nature it is impelled thereto. 
 
 The same is seen in lower animals, as in the 
 skipping of lambs, the frisking of dogs and the 
 prancing of colts; it's their nature. They are im- 
 pelled to these things without reason upon their 
 part. 
 
 It is true, they afford pleasure, but this is a 
 result, and not the impelling cause. The impulse 
 and craving for activity preceed all consciousness 
 of pleasure. 
 
 Or must we boldly say that all desires actually 
 
HIGHEST GOOD 17 
 
 aim not at the thing or action, but at pleasure? 
 James Mill, a bold and acute thinker, claims we 
 must. 
 
 We have a desire for water to drink; that is 
 strictly considered a figure of speech. "Properly 
 speaking," says he, ''it is not the water we desire, 
 but the pleasure of drinking." As if the desire for 
 water did not arise from the condition of the blood. 
 The illusion that we desire to drink is merely the 
 result of a very close association. Like the anecdote 
 of an Englishman seated on the bank of a lake, 
 fishing. A native approaches him and informs him 
 that there are no fishes in these waters. Whereupon 
 the Englishman stolidly replies that he is not fishing 
 for fish, but for pleasure. This man had evidently 
 dissolved the association, and regarded fishes, fish- 
 ing, and pleasure, in the light of means and end. 
 
 Do other people do the same? It seems to me 
 that the mirth occasioned by this reply is a suffi- 
 cient answer. Indeed, so far as I know, the will or 
 desire is always directed upon the thing or action 
 itself, and not upon the pleasure that follows, and 
 they are so directed because our natures urge them 
 thereto. That the desire for pleasure does exert 
 a great influence is shown by the fact that it is 
 difficult to get men to consent to do a thing that 
 they" know will not increase their pleasure, but that 
 will render them unhappy. 
 
 At the same time, if pleasure is the main thing 
 that is desirable, then pain should be eliminated 
 from the earth. If this were done, would it make 
 for the benefit of the earth or not? Besides, the 
 benefit of pain as a warning against injury; it has 
 a most salutary effect in developing character. 
 
 But why are we not gratified at the illusiorL JDf 
 perfect Jiappiness ? It is because we should find 
 such a life unbearable. It^ would fail to exercise 
 and satisfy the most powerful impulses of our 
 
H) 
 
 18 IIIGIIEST GOOD 
 
 natures. W ho would care to live without opposi- 
 tion and struggle ? To battle and to make sacritices 
 for one's chosen course constitutes a necessity of 
 human life. 
 
 ~~ Carlyle states this truth in a beautiful passage 
 when he says : "It is a calumny to say that men 
 are roused to heroic actions by ease, hope of pleas- 
 ure, recompense — sugar-plums of any kind in this 
 world or the next. In the meanest mortal there 
 lies something nobler. It is not to taste sweets, but 
 to do something nobler, that the poorest dimly 
 longs. They wrong man greatly who say he is 
 seduced by ease," as quoted in the previous thesis. 
 
 The biologist will not regard pleasure as the 
 absolute end of life, but will consider both pleasure 
 and pain as means of guiding the will. In the feel- 
 ing of pleasure, the will becomes conscious of the 
 furtherance of life by the exercise of function. 
 Hence pleasure is not a good in itself, but a sign 
 that good has been realized. 
 
 When the impulse is satisfied, pleasure ceases 
 for the time being. It is vanishing. Surely the rul- 
 ing motive to life is not a passing feeling. It must 
 be something more permanent, something that is 
 not satisfied and ceases to operate continuously. 
 
 What is that something? There are doubtless 
 more than one principle operating to determine one's 
 actions, but that principle is not always the con- 
 sideration of happiness. 
 
 If the pursuit of happiness were the goal of the 
 will, there ought to be no question as to whose 
 happiness is meant, that of the individual or general 
 happiness. This is an important question. 
 
 One school says without hesitation, general 
 happiness. They make a strong case. In fact, the 
 dejire^foi^the happiness o f others is so general tha t 
 it seems like a law of nature that we should 
 desire it. And yet, on study, the fact becomes self- 
 
HIGHEST GOOD 19 
 
 evident that our personal happiness should take 
 precedence. Our own happiness is so intimately 
 connected with life — that is to say, things which 
 promote happiness are also things which promote 
 life, — sunshine, fresh air, food and bodily exer- 
 cise — that to neglect them or postpone them, in 
 order .to secure the happiness of others, is to lose 
 life and thereby fail to secure the happiness of any. 
 
 Again, by looking after our own happiness we 
 render ourselves more capable to contribute to gen- 
 eral happiness, whereas by neglecting ourselves we 
 become incompetent to yield happiness to others, so 
 that looking after general to the neglect of indi- 
 vidual happiness is suicidal. This leads to the con - 
 clusiqnth at self-happiness or selfishness should be 
 the _g oal of_iJf£, This is a conclusion we cannot 
 accept, as it is not a worthy motive. 
 
 We do not believe that it is made a leading 
 motive to action, and that men stop to th ink whethe^ 
 o v^ not such a course will lead to the greatest happi- 
 ness, or to their own happiness, when confronted 
 with the rightness or wrongness of an act. 
 
 They are more liable to ask whether it is in 
 accordance with their natures, and will redound to 
 their improvement or the improvement of others. 
 
 Improvement is in keeping with the doctrine of 
 evolution. Through evolution the tendency is 
 upward — to move from the simple to the complex, 
 from the homogenious to the heterogenious, from 
 the rude toward the perfect. Happiness is not in 
 the line of development ; it is a side issue. 
 
 Those philosophers who hold to evolution as a 
 most important principle, sidetrack that principle 
 when they place happiness in the leading role. Im- 
 provement and perfection and further development 
 of ^U Tjnatures should be _lhe prim ary object of life; 
 andji happiness attends, so well and so good. This 
 leads me to say that men pursue their callings now 
 
liU HIGHEST GOOD 
 
 from one motive, as the pursuit of happiness; now 
 from another, as self-improvement, and now from 
 none at all, except the impulses of their own natures. 
 
 Will the action improve us or others? That is 
 the question. If it will, it will do more to determine 
 the advisaility of performing it than the question, 
 will it increase my happiness? Improvement is in 
 the hne of development or evolution. Happiness is 
 not, and how strong advocates of the doctrine of 
 evolution such as Herbert Spencer, can turn it aside 
 in favor of the happiness doctrine we cannot 
 imagine. 
 
 Ethical principles are not inate or inborn ; if they 
 were, there would be no difference of opinion about 
 them. They are bits of knowledge from experience 
 expressed in a few words. One may operate gen- 
 erally, such as the happiness theory; another may 
 be more noble, such as the improvement theory, and 
 in times of doubt ought to be given preference. 
 
 The conduct of a man is morally good when it 
 tends to further the well-being or perfection of the 
 agent and his surroundings. It is, on the other 
 hand, morally reprehensible when it lacks this 
 characteristic. We call a man good when he fash- 
 ions his own life in accordance with the ideal of 
 human perfection, and the same time furthers the 
 welfare of his surroundings. We call a man bad 
 when he has neither the will nor strength to do any- 
 thing towards his improvement or that of others, 
 but instead disturbes and injures his surroundings. 
 
 Darwin reaches a similar conclusion. He 
 examines the pleasure theory and flatly contradicts 
 it. Pleasure-pain, he concludes, is neither the motive 
 nor the end of all action. I quote the passage in 
 question : 
 
 "In the case of the lower animals, it seems much 
 more appropriate to speak of their social instincts 
 as having developed for the general good than for 
 
HIGHEST GOOD 21 
 
 the general happiness of the species. The term 
 'general good' may be defined as the rearing of the 
 greatest number of individuals in full vigor and 
 health, with all their faculties perfect, under the 
 conditions to which they are subject. As the social 
 instincts both of man and the lower animals have 
 no doubt been developed by nearly the same steps, 
 it would be advisable, if found practicable, to use 
 the same definition in both cases, and to take as the 
 standard of morality the general good or welfare 
 of the community, rather than the general happiness. 
 
 'Ts it good for me, and not will it increase my 
 happiness ? The word improvement carries with it 
 the idea of good, or betterment ; the word happiness 
 does not. In fact, it carries with it a menace to 
 character, else why did the old school of stoic 
 philosophers come into existence, and later the 
 ascetics, and why is it that large numbers of men 
 and women have called pleasures, particularly social 
 ones, evil? 
 
 'Tt is because in the excitement of social pleas- 
 ures, work and duty may be forgotten, and the 
 strength of character which is maintained by self- 
 denying struggle may be lost." 
 
 3— 
 
Relation of Ethics and Religion 
 
 By ethics we mean the science of character. 
 Rehgion has so many definitions we do not know 
 which one to adopt, but all design to express our 
 relations and duties to God. 
 
 "If, then, I ask myself," says Professor Palmer, 
 of Harvard, "whether, as a fact, a man, when par- 
 ticularly religious, becomes by that circumstance 
 l>eculiarly moral, I must say there is a great deal 
 which points the other w^ay. Our first question, 
 then, shall be whether, when a man is peculiarly 
 faithful in the performance of his special work, God 
 is naturally in all his thoughts. It seems to me that, 
 strangely enough, this is not the case. Why it is 
 not, we must consider hereafter. But, taking actual 
 occurrences and asking ourselves without prejudice 
 this single question, I believe we are shut up to a 
 negative answer. 
 
 "Here is a surgeon engaged in his perilous art. 
 The slightest divergence of the knife to right or left 
 will have serious consequences. While performing 
 this special task, steering that knife exactly true, 
 does he fill his mind with thoughts of God and seek 
 to lose his own small life in that of the infinite one ? 
 I do not think so. It would be disastrous if he did. 
 I suspect his thoughts can hardly travel so far from 
 his knife as to consider even the poor sufferer before 
 him. I doubt if he greatly pities the patient before 
 him on whom he is engaged, or takes much satis- 
 faction in restoring him to health. 
 
 "Before he began his work, he may have had 
 
 22 
 
J RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 23 
 
 compassionate thoughts, and may have regarded 
 himself as the servant of God in conflict with hated 
 disease and distress. And possibly afterwards, look- 
 ing back upon his work, he may give it approval and 
 feel that God's finger directed every curve of the 
 knife. Both of the two, the sense of special duty 
 and the sense of dependence on God, may well exist 
 in the same person. But do they present exactly the 
 same point of view? Does he who is thinking of 
 the one necessarily think of the other ? 
 
 "I hold that, as he cuts, he may wisely exclude 
 all thought of both God and his neighbor, being 
 simply a surgeon and nothing more. He requires a 
 certain narrowing of his vision, a certain exclusion 
 of the infinite aspects of his task, in order to perform 
 that task well. 
 
 ''Somewhat similar conditions will be found in 
 almost every exigency of life. The painter eliciting 
 beauty, the musician eliciting music, must be impas- 
 sioned for beauty and music and for nothing else. 
 If the artist should care less about producing beauty 
 ^nd more about companionship with God, he might 
 have a more exalted aim than the seeker after colors. 
 But that aim will not make him a good artist. When 
 he is painting, colors and lines must claim him. He, 
 too, has need of narrowness and must let infinite 
 things alone. Or take the humbler life. 
 
 ''When the carpenter drives his nail, is he not 
 thinking simply of the straight course of that nail 
 and nothing else? He cannot at such moments 
 meditate on divine commands. I grant he will be a 
 poor carpenter if sometime in his Mfe he has not 
 asked himself, what is his place in God's kingdom; 
 and has not seen that to drive nails straight to do 
 thorough carpentery is the best service he can offer. 
 These are wise thoughts for seasons of leisure. But 
 they interfere with work when driving nails. I 
 should advise him to withdraw his attention from 
 
24 RHLATION Of ETHICS AND RlilJGlON 
 
 the Most High. The case is the same in all life's 
 operations. The particular thing before us demands 
 a narrowed attention." 
 
 'T think, too, we must have been struck with the 
 fact that many persons whose characters are excel- 
 lent and for whom we have great reverence, seem 
 to get along pretty well without much consciousness 
 of God. Few persons in my own world have seemed 
 more worthy of honor than my old nurse," says 
 Professor Palmer, from whose writings I have so 
 far extracted this paper. ''She brought me up, 
 and to her I owe almost as much as to my own 
 mother. She always impressed me as doubtless the 
 greatest saint I knew, so devoid of selfishness, so 
 intent on cheerful and intelligent service. But she 
 had little time for communion with God, and did 
 not, so far as I could see, suffer from the lack. She 
 was too much occupied with seeing whether I had 
 proper stickings on, with contriving how to quiet my 
 petulance and get my dinner ready at the right min- 
 ute, to be much concerned with her soul or its rela- 
 tion to God. She simply went about her work." 
 
 Most of us have had similar experiences, and 
 some of us have been a good deal puzzled by them. 
 
 On the other hand, many of us have known per- 
 sons who struck us as extremely religious, but whom 
 we should not have been quite willing to trust. Their 
 religious emotons were a good deal divorced from 
 moral responsibility. The newspapers are fond of 
 reporting such cases and telling how the defaulting 
 cashier was superintendent of a Sunday school. The 
 negro on his way home from prayer meeting stops 
 to 3teal a chicken from the roost. Supposing the 
 newspapers do not exaggerate, and that our own 
 experience supplies corroborative cases, a simple 
 explanation is ready. Since everybody assumes the 
 close connection of morality and religion, immoral 
 men put on a religious cloak. 
 
RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 25 
 
 This does not show that the devout and the 
 natural are independent matters, for the defauher 
 was not really devout. He was only pretending to 
 be. Had he been so, he would have felt the incon- 
 gruity of his evil act. This explanation is undoubt- 
 edly sufficient for most men, and it is difficult to 
 show that it is untrue, but it seems to me improbably 
 easy. Our instructor means to say he was devout, 
 and that is a more rational explanation than to say 
 he was a hypocrite. 
 
 I do not find hypocrites so common. It requires 
 a high degree of abstenance and self-denial to make 
 a first-class hypocrite — that is, a man who will 
 steadily consent not to lead his own life. To most 
 of us our life is precious. We want to utter the 
 thing that is in our own minds, and not go through 
 the world playing a part for which we do not care. 
 In the long run, this requires too much constraint 
 and too much skill. Momentary pretenses we all 
 slip into; but these are very unlike the coherent 
 hypocracies which the present explanation requires. 
 These are surely of rarer ocurrence than the wrong- 
 doings of the devout. 
 
 'T cannot fail to see that a good many persons 
 are, so far as I can judge, sincerely religious, when 
 not quite responsive to the demands of the natural 
 code. I am sorry to say that I find this true of 
 myself," so says Professor Palmer. "At my times 
 of greatest religious exaltation," says he, "small 
 duties do not appeal to me most urgently. There 
 seems to be a kind of separation, as if there were 
 something in the nature of religious emotion, which 
 removed me from earthly duties. When the relig- 
 ious impulse is strongest,' I am obliged to be espe- 
 cially careful if I would not be blind to the plain 
 duties of the day. 
 
 "I am much mistaken if the experience of other 
 people does not confirm mine. These considerations 
 
26 KiiL.inux ui- urines .ixo rbugion 
 
 seem to show that however close the two fields are, 
 religion and morality, they are still distinct. 
 
 "But I feel that here, far more than in any other 
 case, it is difficult to mark the separation. As a fact, 
 we have seen they differ. Why and in what respects 
 we must now try to discover." 
 
 The point of view is different, that is all. With 
 one it is God\vard, with the other it is manw^ard. In 
 other words, one commences with God, while the 
 other commences with man. 
 
 His view is manward ; the religious view is 
 Godward. This contrast is fundamental. Every- 
 where the religious soul seeks after God as all in all. 
 We are of no consequence. 
 
 Ethics has always looked at the matter in an 
 entirely different way. While accepting the eternal 
 as that which alone possesses infinite worth, the 
 moral mind has asserted that it, too, possesses a 
 \vorth. The statement is presumptuous, but life 
 could not go on without it. I have my little world 
 to guide, my bread must be earned, my clothes kept 
 clean, my hungry neighbor fed. These are small 
 acts, but they are worth while ; indeed, they call for 
 my best thought. These things I consider as 
 of such worth that eternal realties are regarded only 
 as they furnish strength and order to these. 
 
 Here, then, ethics diverges from religion and 
 takes its independent path. It studies infinite prin- 
 ciples so far as they receive a finite expression. That 
 finite expression is the one important matter. 
 
 This divergence will explain some of the strange 
 suggestions just made. I said that I thought I had 
 observed that the attitudes of the moral and religious 
 man are not merely unlike, but that there is a cer- 
 tain conflict between the two. The reason of this 
 will be apparent now. 
 
 When attention is turned in one of these direc- 
 tions, it is to some degree withdrawn from the 
 
RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 27 
 
 other. I cannot at the same moment be conceiving 
 of God as the only being of worth, and yet of my 
 hfe — this fragmentary life- — as itself a matter of 
 worth. I alternate. Now as a religious man, I lay 
 chief stress on the one ; Now as a moral man on the 
 other. Most certainly the two are inextricably 
 involved. They cannot be sundered, but only dis- 
 tinguished by the degree of attention. The two 
 fields are supplementary, though attention is pre- 
 dominantly given to one or the other. 
 
 It might well be asked which is the proper order 
 of acceptance? When we awake to a consciousness 
 of the construction of our lives, with the life of the 
 whole, and see that it is incumbent on us to serve 
 that whole while still serving ourselves and our 
 imperfect fellow men, to which side of the complex 
 demand shall we primarily address ourselves? Shall 
 we say we cannot be moral men until we have 
 become religious, or that we cannot become religious 
 until we have become moral? Is not the proper 
 order first the large, with progression through that 
 large to the small ? 
 
 I cannot think so, so says Professor Palmer. 
 To my mind, the reverse is more nearly the normal 
 order. We move best from small moral matters up 
 to the larger religious ones. Hence while the two 
 are interdependent, it does appear to me that the 
 chief stress of attention is primarily demanded by 
 the moral side. 
 
 The fact is that the road down — the path from 
 the universal to the particular, from a general prin- 
 ciple to its applications, from an including law to 
 the special fact included under it — is always 
 peculiarly treacherous and confusing. 
 
 The road up is man's natural path, the road 
 which runs from particular objects and events to 
 their including law. Allegiance to God does not 
 
28 Kl'.LATlOX OP liTlllCS AX D RiSLIGION 
 
 disclose whal particular acl any given instant 
 demands. 
 
 First, that which is natural, then that, which is 
 spiritual. 
 
 All will agree that large considerations are apt 
 to be vague. When we lose ourselves in the thought 
 of God, we often find that we have indeed lost our- 
 selves; that we have become insensitive to the world 
 we inhabit, and are in danger of becoming oblivious 
 to its duties. When full of the thought of God, it 
 is not impossible to allow a room to go dusty, a bill 
 to remain unpaid. Not impossible! It is danger- 
 ously natural. We shall be wise to warn ourselves 
 when thoughts of God are so dear and uplifting, 
 that we must watch the; little world which lies 
 around us and not, because of devoutness, neglect 
 to hear its needy calls. 
 
 We do not say that ethics leads to religion, 
 although they are apt to do so; yet we know of 
 ethically minded men who are even atheists. On 
 the other hand, religion does not necessarily lead to 
 ethics, as shown in the paper. The safer way is 
 from ethics to religion, from nature to nature's God, 
 as would seem from the following passage : 'Tf 
 man loves not his brother whom he has seen, how 
 shall he love God whom he hath not seen?" 
 
 And then again, the worthlessness of religion 
 without ethics is shown by the words of the last 
 judgment, wherein the Lord says to the non-ethical : 
 "I was ahungered and ye gave me no meat, I was 
 thirsty and ye gave me no drink, sick and in prison 
 and ye visited me not. Then shall He say, as ye 
 did it not unto one of the least of these ye did it 
 not to me." 
 
 When seeking to embody righteousness in petty 
 acts, we justly regard ourselves as representing God 
 under finite conditions. Morality fulfills itself in 
 religion, even though its gaze is directed manward 
 
RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 29 
 
 rather than Gcxiward. Kant defines reHgion as 
 morality viewed as a divine command. From this 
 it would appear that the ethical road to God is by 
 all odds the safer route. At the same time, either 
 approach to God, whether by the ethical or spiritual 
 route, is doubtless better than no approach at all. 
 I make my acknowledgments to Professor Palmer 
 for much of the material of this paper. 
 
Healthy Mindedness 
 
 By the term optimism we mean the doctrine that 
 everything in nature is ordered for the best. By 
 the word pessimism we mean the opposite — that is, 
 that there is more evil than good in nature. I will 
 quote from J. S. Mills, a noted English author, to 
 show that there are grounds for this latter opinion. 
 Says he, in speaking of the forces of nature : 
 
 *'The quality that most forcibly strikes everyone 
 is their perfect and absolute recklessness. Pope's 
 'Shall gravitation cease when you go by?' may be 
 a just rebuke to anyone who should be so silly as 
 to expect human morality from nature. A man who 
 should persist in hurling stones, or firing a cannon 
 when another goes by, and having killed him, should 
 urge a similar plea in exculpation, would very 
 deservedly be found guilty of murder. 
 
 "In sol)er truth, nearly all of the things which 
 we are hanged or imprisoned for doing to one 
 another are nature's every-day performances. 
 
 "Killing, the most criminal act recognized by 
 human laws, nature does once to every being that 
 lives; in our natural death. ^N'ature impales men, 
 breaks them as if on the wheel, causes them to be 
 devoured by wild beasts, burns them to death, 
 crushes them with stones, starves them with hunger, 
 freezes them with cold, poisons them by the quick 
 or slow venom of her exhalations, and has hundreds 
 of other hideous deaths in reserve. All this nature 
 does with the most supercilious disregard both of 
 mercy and of justice, emptying her shafts upon the 
 
 30 
 
HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 31 
 
 best and noblest indifferently with the meanest and 
 worst. She mows down those on whose existence 
 hangs the well-being of a whole people with as little 
 compunction as those whose death is a relief to 
 themselves. Such are nature's dealings with life. 
 
 "Next to taking life, is taking the means by 
 which we live, and nature does this, too, on the 
 largest scale and with the most callous indifference. 
 A single hurricane destroys the hopes of a season; 
 a flight of locusts or an inundation desolates a dis- 
 trict; a trifling chemical change in an edible root 
 starves a million people. 
 
 ''The waves of the sea seize and appropriate the 
 wealth of the rich and the little all of the poor. 
 Everything, in short, which the worst men commit 
 either against life or property is perpetrated on a 
 large scale by natural agents. 
 
 ''Her explosions of fire damp are as destructive 
 as human artillery; her plague and cholera surpass 
 the most poisonous cups. Even the love of order, 
 which is thought to be a following in the ways of 
 nature, is in fact a contradiction of them. 
 
 "Anarchy and the reign of terror are over- 
 matched in injustice, ruin and death by a hurricane 
 and a pestilence. 
 
 "But it is said all these things are for wise and 
 good ends. Whether they are or not is altogether 
 beside the point." 
 
 The only admissable theory of these things is 
 that the principle of good cannot at once and 
 altogether subdue the powers of evil, either physical 
 or moral, — could not place mankind in a world free 
 from the necessity of an incessant struggle with the 
 maleficient powers or make them always victorious 
 in that struggle, but could and did make them 
 capable of carrying on the fight with vigor and 
 progressively increasing success. 
 
 According to this theory, man's duty would con- 
 
32 IIIi.lLTIiy MINDUDNBSS 
 
 sist in standing forward, a not ineffectual aid and 
 heli)er to a being of perfect benelicence. 
 
 It would appear, then, that those who see in the 
 nature of things ground for pessimism do so because 
 they do not look deep enough. They do not allow 
 sufficient importance to the element of time, or to 
 human agency in coming to the rescue, and helping 
 to make this earth a better world for man to live in. 
 The imperfections of the world come from the nar- 
 row vision of men, so says Walt Whitman. 
 
 I am an optimist, not an unreasonable one. By 
 an unreasonable one, I mean a man who refuses to 
 entertain considerations of evil at all, who ignores 
 all evil. In the first place, pessimists make a mis- 
 take in regarding death as always a curse. Com- 
 pared to the infirmities of extreme old age, it is 
 seen to be a blessing. As far as natural evils are 
 concerned, man can do much to prevent or amelior- 
 ate them. By draining swamps he can prevent 
 malarial disease, he can do much to prevent small- 
 pox, plague, cholera and yellow fever. He can 
 insure his crops and buildings. 
 
 As to evils of human origin, by giving them 
 some consideration, they may be many times averted 
 entirely. If not averted, can be mitigated. Any- 
 way, by giving them some forethought we are pre- 
 pared for them, — prepared to act when occasion 
 requires, and are not paralyzed by their unexpected 
 occurrence. Giving thought to such matters helps 
 to fortify our characters. 
 
 Savages do not look ahead for good or evil, and 
 by adopting unreasonable optimistic view^s we are 
 going backward instead of advancing. 
 
 It is said by reflecting upon evil we favor melan- 
 choly moods. What of it? Melancholy has its 
 advantages, and some people rather like it. 
 
 I know not to what physical laws philosophers 
 wnll some day refer the feelings of melancholy. 
 
HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 33 
 
 "For myself," so writes Saint Perre, ''I find that 
 they are most voluptuous of all sensations." 
 
 ''It is a general rule," so writes Professor 
 Royce, of Harvard, "of the two morbidly emotional 
 moods, the cheerfully morbid is likely to prove 
 worse than the painfully morbid. False despair is 
 more benign than false confidence or than vain- 
 glory." 
 
 In giving forethought to evil, we should not 
 give fearthought, or worry, to them, as Professor 
 James, also of Harvard, says, for there is a distinc- 
 tion. In worry, the endless question is what shall 
 I do? In his despair he tries to prevent all acts, 
 until a saving plan shall appear. But let the dreaded 
 calamity over which he worried befall him, and he 
 becomes cool, and may bear the worst so much 
 more easily than he could the uncertainty of worry. 
 
 Worry should not be confounded with restless- 
 ness, as the latter is a result of accumulated bodily 
 energy, and may be present when the subject is 
 happy. It leads to action, whereas worry too fre- 
 quently paralyses action. 
 
 That there is such a thing as healthy-mindedness 
 in such matters, I think a quotation from Professor 
 James, before mentioned, will show : 
 
 "We give the name healthy-mindedness to the 
 tendency which looks on all things and sees that 
 they are good. We find," says he, "we must dis- 
 tinguish between a more involuntary and a more 
 voluntary or systematic way of being healthy- 
 minded. In its involuntary variety, healthy- 
 mindedness is a way of feeling happy about things 
 immediately. In its systematical variety, it is an 
 abstract way of conceiving things as good. 
 
 "Systematic healthy-mindedness, deliberately 
 excludes as evil from its field of vision, and 
 although, when thus nakedly stated, this might be 
 a difficult feat to perform for one who is intel- 
 
:u HliALTUY MISDEDNESS 
 
 Icctually sincere with himself and honest about 
 facts, a httle reflection shows that the situation is 
 too complex to lie open to so simple a criticism. 
 
 "In the first place, happiness, like every other 
 emotional state, has blindness and insensil)ility to 
 opposing facts given it, as its instinctive weapon for 
 self-protection against disturbance. 
 
 ''When happiness is actually in possession, the 
 thought of evil can no more acquire the feeling of 
 reality than the thought of good can gain reality 
 when melancholy rules." 
 
 To the man actively happy, from whatever 
 cause, evil simply cannot then and there be believed 
 in. He must ignore it, and to the by-stander he 
 may then seem perversely to shut his eyes to it and 
 hush it up. 
 
 But more than this : The hushing of it up may 
 in a perfectly candid and honest mind, grow into 
 a deliberate policy. 
 
 Aluch of what we call evil is due entirely to the 
 way men take the phenomenan. It can so often ht 
 converted into a bracing and tonic good, by a simple 
 change of the sufferer's inner attitude, from one of 
 fear to one of fight; its sting so often departs 
 and turns into a relish when after vainly seeking to 
 shun it, we agree to face about and bear it cheer- 
 fully, that a man is simply bound in honor, with 
 reference to many of the facts that seem at first to 
 disconcert his peace, to adopt this way of escape. 
 Refuse to admit their badness, despise their power, 
 ignore their presence, turn your attention the other 
 way, and so far as you yourself are concerned at 
 any rate, though the facts may still exist, their evil 
 character exists no longer. Since you make them 
 evil or good by your own thoughts about them, it 
 is the ruling of your own thoughts which proves to 
 be your principal concern. 
 
 ''The deliberate adoption of an optimistic turn of 
 
HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 35 
 
 mind thus makes its entrance into philosophy. And 
 once in, it is hard to trace its lawful bounds. Not 
 only does the human instinct for happiness, bent on 
 self-protection by ignoring, keep working in its 
 favor, but higher inner ideals have weighty words 
 to say. The attitude of unhappiness is not only 
 painful — it is mean and ugly. What can be more 
 base and unworthy than the pining, puling, mourn- 
 ful mood, no matter by what outward ills it may 
 have been engendered. What is more injurious to 
 others? What is less helpful as a way out of the 
 difficulty? It but fastens and perpetuates the trou- 
 ble which occasioned it, and increases the total evil 
 of the situation. At all costs, then, we ought to 
 reduce the sway of that mood; we ought to scout 
 it in ourselves and others, and never show it 
 tolerance. 
 
 ''But it is impossible to carry on this discipline in 
 the subjective sphere without zealously emphasizing 
 the brighter and minimizing the darker aspect of 
 the objective sphere of things at the same time. And 
 thus our resolution not to indulge in misery, begin- 
 ning at a comparatively small point within our- 
 selves, may not stop until it has brought the entire 
 frame of reality under a systematic conception 
 optimistic enough to be congenial with its needs. 
 In fact, we all do cultivate healthy-mindedness more 
 or less, even when our professed theology should in 
 consistency forbid it. We divert our attention from 
 disease and death as much ,as we can ; and the 
 slaughter-houses and indecencies without end on 
 which our life is founded are huddled out of sight 
 and never mentioned, so that the world we recog- 
 nize is far handsomer and cleaner and better than 
 the world that really is." 
 
 "The world is too full of sadness and sorrow, 
 misery and sickness; it needs more sunshine; it 
 needs cheerful lives which radiate gladness ; it needs 
 
36 HEALTHY MINDEDNBSS 
 
 cncouragers who will lift and not l)car down, who 
 will encourage, not discourage. 
 
 *'\Vho can estimate the value (^f a sunny soul 
 who scatters gladness and good cheer wherever he 
 goes, instead of gloom and sadness? Everybody is 
 attracted to these cheerful faces and sunny lives, and 
 repelled by the gloomy, the morose and the sad. We 
 en\y people who radiate cheer wherever they go and 
 fling out gladness from every pore. Money, houses 
 and lands look contemptible beside such a disposi- 
 tion. The ability to radiate sunshine is a greater 
 power than beauty, or than mere mental accomplish- 
 ments." 
 
 The theory of evolution comes to the aid of 
 healthy-mindedness. I want to say here, that this 
 doctrine does not deny the existence of God, nor is 
 it inconsistent with Christianity, as is shown by 
 the fact that many ministers of the gospel are evo- 
 lutionists. It simply shows that the work of crea- 
 tion is still going on, and indicates the manner in 
 which it is going on. 
 
 According to many writers on the doctrine of 
 evolution, the struggle for existence is such a war 
 of nature, so vast and cruel as to be revolting to our 
 instincts, and has proven a stumbling-block in the 
 way of those who would gladly believe in an all-wise 
 and benevolent ruler of the universe. Thus a bril- 
 liant writer says: 'Tain, grief, disease and death 
 — are these the inventions of a living God? That no 
 animal shall rise to excellence except by being fatal 
 to others — is this the law of a kind Creator ?" Even 
 so thoughtful a writer as Professor Huxley adopts 
 similar views. In a recent article on 'The Struggle 
 For Existence," he concludes that, since thousands 
 of times a minute, were our ears sharp enough, we 
 should hear sighs and groans of pain like those 
 heard by Dante at the gate of hell, the world cannot 
 be governed by what we call benevolence. 
 
HEALTHY MINDEDNESS 37 
 
 Now, there is, I think, good reason to beheve 
 that all this is greatly exaggerated; that the sup- 
 posed torments and miseries of animals, for 
 instance, has little real existence. So says Mr. 
 Alfred Wallace, a renowned evolutionist; but that' 
 they are the reflection of the imagined sensations of 
 cultured men and women in similar circumstances, 
 and that the amount of actual suffering caused by 
 the struggle for existence among animals is 
 altogether insignificant. In the first place, we must 
 remember that animals are entirely spared the pain 
 we suffer in the anticipation of death — a pain far 
 greater, in most cases, than the reality. This leads, 
 probably, to an almost perpetual enjoyment of their 
 lives; since their constant watchfulness against 
 danger, and even their actual flight from an enemy, 
 will be the enjoyable exercise of their powers and 
 faculties, unmixed in most cases with any serious 
 dread. The daily search for food employs all their 
 faculties and exercises every organ of their bodies, 
 while their exercise leads to the satisfaction of 
 their physical needs. We can give no more perfect 
 definition of happiness of which they are capable. 
 A violent and sudden death is in every way the best 
 for the animal. 
 
 What really the struggle for existence brings 
 about for the animal kingdom is the maximum of 
 life and enjoyment of life with the minimum of 
 suffering and pain. It is difficult to imagine a sys- 
 tem by w^hich a greater balance of happiness could 
 have been secured than by the struggle for 
 existence. 
 
 The same is true of the struggle for existence 
 among men. It gives him something to do, some- 
 thing to live for. Were it not for this, there would 
 be an insufficient motive to arouse him, to sharpen 
 his energies and give him impulses to exert himself 
 to his capacity. Were it not for this struggle, life 
 
 4- 
 
38 HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 
 
 would lack something that could not be otherwise 
 supplied. From this arises occasions for exercising 
 his bodily and mental powers and faculties and for 
 alternately resting the same. If these be the ele- 
 ments of happiness, if alternate exercise and rest 
 be the bread and butter of happiness, as we are sure 
 they arc, why should we not be happy every moment 
 of our normal lives, sickness and dread excepted. 
 
 The dread of death does much to take away our 
 happiness, this dread being worse than death itself; 
 for death is generally painless, consciousness depart- 
 ing generally quite a time before death supervenes. 
 I have seen many die, and know that the impure 
 blood which results from the failing organs of the 
 body in approaching death intoxicates and stupifies 
 the mind so that one is dead before he knows that 
 he is dying. ^^^hy, then, should sinking into a 
 peaceful rest be attended with dread. 
 
 The old heathen philosophers used to long to 
 pass away and be at rest. 
 
 The reason, then, why we are not happier than 
 we are is because we do not understand the secret. 
 That secret is that the exercise of our muscles and 
 faculties within reason and alternate rest are the 
 simple elements of happiness. Hence, whatever 
 leads to or enforces such exercise ought to make 
 normal creatures enjoy life. 
 
 Do not look too high for beatific pleasures, but 
 look for enjoyment in every-day activities, and you 
 \v\\\ find them, just as the animal kingdom does, 
 only higher, just in proportion as your faculties are 
 higher. 
 
 This is evolution and contributes to healthy- 
 mindedness. In the theory of evolution, which, 
 gathering momentum for a century, has within the 
 last twenty-five years swept over Europe and Amer- 
 ica, we see the ground laid for a new sort of healthy- 
 mindedness. The idea of a universal evolution lends 
 
HEALTHY MINDBDNESS 39 
 
 itself to a general betterment and progress, so well 
 that it seems almost as if it might have been created 
 for this purpose. 
 
 This doctrine, like Darwinism, made little 
 advance at first. It was thought to be atheistic in 
 its effects. When Darwinism was found not to be 
 so, it spread greatly, so that now there is scarcely 
 one who deserves the name of scientist who is not 
 an advocate of that doctrine. 
 
 The man who gave a greater impetus to evolution 
 than any other was Herbert Spencer. He intro- 
 duced it into almost everything he wrote about, and 
 it should be remembered that he was an extensive 
 author. Today a belief in that doctrine is becoming 
 more and more widespread among intelligent people, 
 because it is found it does not do away with a 
 creator. It shows that it is the way the diety oper- 
 ates in nature. 
 
 Spencer introduced this theory into the forma- 
 tion of the planets, carrying out the ideas of such 
 men as Kant, Laplace and Hershel, making it much 
 more extensive. He introduced it into the formation 
 of plants and animals on earth, and into the develop- 
 ment of man, his physical, mental and moral nature ; 
 even into his religion. 
 
 The gist of this doctrine is that all things are 
 growing better, more perfect. What a welcome 
 doctrine this is. How eagerly it ought to be em- 
 braced, and how much comfort it ought to afford 
 to the noble-minded. One reason why it is believed 
 in is that it is manifest upon close observation. 
 
 It is true that spiritual impulses and conceptions 
 and undertakings do not run so exckisively along 
 the old hallowed and familiar ways of religion, yet 
 the spirit of man has waxed as strong in our time 
 as has his hand, and has given itself to works as 
 •mighty and as influential. There is no doubt the 
 
40 HEALTHY MINDEDNESS 
 
 world shall be saved by the courage of action and 
 the satisfying nobility of unimpeachable conduct. 
 
 It is true the theory of evolution encourages no 
 millenium in our day, yet if for millions of years 
 our globe has been on the upward road, sometime 
 the summit will be reached. 
 
 \\'hatever any kind of religion may add in con- 
 firmation of this theory, is that much in favor of 
 that religion. 
 
Pessimism and Optimism 
 
 In the first place, what is pessimism? It is the 
 doctrine that this world is the worst possible. 
 Schopenhauer taught that this is the worst of all 
 possible worlds and inferred that sleep is better than 
 waking, and death than sleep — and the talent in the 
 world cannot save it from being odious. Pessimism 
 is the tendency to exaggerate in thought the evils 
 of life or to look only upon its dark side. Says one, 
 "a genuine pessimist should go and drown himself 
 as the practical outcome of his belief; if he does 
 not, it is because, in spite of the theory, he finds life 
 tolerable — and if for him, why may it not be for 
 his fellows?" The formula of pessimism is or 
 ought to be, that this is the worst of all possible 
 worlds, and therefore let each of us get out of it. 
 But men sometimes manage to hold a creed without 
 realizing its consequences in their imagination. 
 
 Schopenhauer, the great apostle of pessimism, so 
 far as he was sincere and consistent, was so in 
 virtue of his coldness of heart, the "luminous selfish- 
 ness" which guided him through life. He was never 
 guilty of really associating with anybody, we are 
 told. In fact, Schopenhauer, as later found out, 
 was an insane man, and it is no wonder, as his doc- 
 trine was enough to run him or anyone else crazy. 
 
 Browning has been classed wrongly as a pessi- 
 mist. That he should be called such seems wonder- 
 ful. To recognize the force of circumstance and 
 the fatality of chance in the life of man, the 
 irretrievableness of his mistakes, his capacity for 
 
42 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 suffering, the possibility of his deepest joys trans- 
 form themselves into his most poignant griefs, the 
 frustration of hope and the heart-sickness of unful- 
 filled desire — to see and feel all this does not make 
 a man a pessimist. Browning's world, it is true, 
 is not made up of saints and heroes, but of strug- 
 gling, sinning, sorrowing men and women; yet in 
 his creed they have always the power to erect 
 themselves above themselves. The infinite nature 
 of human spirit, Browning tells us, again and again 
 is the source of man's earthly sorrows and joys, his 
 aspiration and progress, present imperfection and 
 ultimate perfectibility. 
 
 The next writer to whom we will devote atten- 
 tion is Mallock, who wrote greatly against optimism 
 of a certain kind. He claimed that human progress 
 does not argue in favor of optimism, but we shall 
 see later that, in a certain sense of the word, it does. 
 If optimism means that the world is already perfect, 
 then the progress of man cannot favor it, but we 
 shall see that, in our understanding of the word, it 
 means no such thing. 
 
 His strongest arguments, however, were against 
 the religion of humanity, and rightly so. Of this 
 religion, Auguste Comte was the main champion, 
 and of him, it may be said that he suffered a 
 cerebral attack and afterward took up some very 
 crazy notions. But of greater importance is the 
 thought of the origin of humanity according to the 
 theory of the evolutionists. If one can find no 
 higher ideal to worship than humanity — considering 
 its origin — Mallock was right in attacking it. After 
 all, his doctrine was not so much in favor of 
 pessimism as against the arguments he himself set 
 up against optimism for the pleasure of knocking 
 them down. 
 
 Pessimism is that theory of philosophical 
 speculation that the world in which we live, the 
 
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 43 
 
 personal environment of individuals, and the general 
 social condition, are the worst that could possibly 
 exist, and that unhappiness is the normal rule of 
 human existence. It has remained for modern 
 thinkers to revive the theory, that unhappiness is the 
 predominating element in mortal life, and that it is 
 better never to have lived than to live ; and that the 
 end of life is the only refuge against misery. 
 
 It will here be perceived that this exposition may 
 be traced to Buddhism, which advocates the 
 annihilation of egotist craving, the extinction of 
 natural passion, the aspiration after rest as the end 
 of human desire, whether conscious or not. 
 
 The pessimist asserts that consciousness is a 
 source of misery and wretchedness, and that the 
 evils we see and feel can never end, unless they end 
 in us by the abolition of that sense of individuality 
 which convinces us that we are surrounded by a 
 condition of things whose painfulness Ave can neither 
 cure nor surmount; and that our redemption from 
 the death of an existence, merely selfish and animal, 
 is desirable. 
 
 In proposing an antidote for pessimism, asks 
 Mr. Charles Nisbet, where, then, is the moral gov- 
 ernment of the world, the ideal tendency of things, 
 the high and lofty destinies, and all that ? Schopen- 
 hauer and Bahnsen, earnest thinkers, arrive, after 
 exhaustive examination and mature deliberation, at 
 the conclusion that the world is not the best, but the 
 worst conceivable, the best possible issue for it being 
 annihilation, man's greatest misfortune birth, his 
 greatest happiness death. 
 
 And yet the everlasting impossibility of accept- 
 ing this as a final statement proves unquestionably 
 its partiality — proves there must be a different and 
 broader verdict. 
 
 Life is hope; is struggle upward and onward. 
 Healthy and robust life can set no final goal to its 
 
44 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 endeavors and hopes, but carries deep into its bosom 
 the promise of quite an infinity of inheritance — 
 dim and unconscious, perhaps, yet latently warm 
 and unquestioning. 
 
 Despair is death; declension from once recog- 
 nized higher ideas is degeneration ; violation of 
 principles of honor and justice once recognized is 
 inevitable injury. In the active furtherance of 
 spiritual or universal ends alone has man solid and 
 complete satisfaction. 
 
 Schopenhauer's philosophy is one of despair, so 
 says Hartman; but so far is this from being the 
 worst of all possible worlds that it is the best, for 
 it tends invincibly to the chief good extinction of all 
 being. Schopenhauer was truly a bungler. But 
 the reader can see how little living seriousness Hart- 
 man possesses. 
 
 But the thing which to our Anglo-Saxon mind 
 seems so outlandish is that crowds of lively fellows, 
 revelling in animal spirits and conscious strength, 
 should enroll themselves in Hartman's ranks of 
 pessimism, in cold blood, as his permanent apostles, 
 and feel as sorely when their pessimism is attacked 
 as the fabled old dead inmate of the almshouse did 
 when, not good enough for heaven, she was also 
 shut out of hades, and sat on -the road and wept 
 that she should have to return — to Tewksbury 
 asylum. 
 
 The truth is the mixture and antithesis, is the 
 appetizing quality in the fore of life. The dangers, 
 misunderstandings, jealousies, errors and seductions 
 on the one hand; on the other hand, the joy in 
 healthy relations to the sensuous world; whoever 
 will realize all these things will not underrate life 
 on this planet, but will prize it. 
 
 This confused world of good and evil is the right 
 arena and training school for battle, enterprise, 
 patience — for all the active and indeed also all the 
 
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 45 
 
 passive virtues. The baseness, stupidity, folly, 
 injustice, suffering and wreck this world everywhere 
 presents are always a splendid challenge to strength, 
 diligence, endurance, faith, wisdom — to all sublime 
 and manly qualities. Sloth, indolence, sweet 
 dreaminess, and credulity, have a hard time of it 
 here — meet every day with the shrewdest rubs and 
 tosses till they are either forced into wakefulness 
 or gored into death. Only the man who lives 
 industriously, moderately, honestly, and truthfully, 
 advances to higher disclosures. The personal pain, 
 languishment and imbitterness do not for the brave 
 man lessen his appreciation of life, but by persistent 
 w^ell-doing he subdues and converts contrarities into 
 furtherances. 
 
 Think what sort of a world it would be without 
 the pain and persecution we suffer. Yes, this earth 
 is dear to mortal men, not merely in spite of its 
 tears and crosses, but also on account of them. 
 
 For, indeed, we prize life not by the sum of our 
 possessions, but only by the rate and steadiness of 
 our growth. "Not the possession," says Lessing, 
 ''or fancied possession of the truth, but the endeavor 
 after it, determines a man's value." And out of the 
 perplexities and corruptions and misunderstandings 
 of human affairs we have in nature, which ever 
 overcanopies and surrounds us, a retreat into the 
 beautiful where we can evermore refresh our sense, 
 and in the conviction of the good. 
 
 The sun, stars, woods, grasses, shells, birds and 
 wild creatures are not corrupt, or at least do not 
 suggest to man, when he contemplates them as a 
 whole, images of corruption. But the poor besotted 
 wretch beholds a perfect splendor in the sun, the 
 prey of ruinous appetites looks into an eye of inno- 
 cence in the flow^er, the bankrupt gazes round and 
 above him, and wonders why in a royal palace he 
 should be a blot and disgrace. 
 
40 PUSSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 '1 should not choose a Hfe of uninterrupted 
 pleasure were the world to engage its utmost to 
 secure it me," says one. ''The lightning is born of 
 the darkness, and the battle, joy and splendor of 
 life are to be measured by the amount of opposition 
 overcome." 
 
 Let us, with assured hearts, trust the course of 
 all who have created the good and the evil, but have, 
 we believe, made the evil to be ultimately sub- 
 servient to the good. 
 
 There are no means of measuring or weighing 
 our pains and pleasures in the world as it is, but we 
 are confident that if our pains exceeded our pleas- 
 ures, life could not endure, unless it should be on 
 the hope of improvement in the future. 
 
 The opinion that this world, physically, socially 
 and morally, is the best that could possibly exist is 
 optimism; this includes the potentialities of man. 
 The optimist looks upon existence as a great and 
 unmixed good. Some advocates of optimism have 
 maintained that the presence of evil teaches man- 
 kind to discern and choose the good, by striving, 
 through suffering and self-exertion, to attain the 
 blessedness which is in the reach of all alike. 
 
 These have maintained a conditional optimism; 
 that is one conditioned that we are helping agents. 
 Upon this condition, it is the best of possible worlds 
 if we desire it and help to make it so. On the other 
 hand, it is the worst of all possible worlds if we 
 desire it and help to make it so. In recent times 
 optimistic theory has been associated almost entirely 
 with the ideas of improvement and progress, and 
 the whole effort of many men is to make this a better 
 world. 
 
 We may not talk of optimism being true, but 
 of its becoming true. The full verification must be 
 contingent on our complicity, both theoretical and 
 practical. All that optimism asserts is that the facts 
 
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 47 
 
 of the world are a fit basis for the chief good, if we 
 do our share and react upon them, as it is meant we 
 should (with fortitude, for example, and undis- 
 mayed hope). 
 
 The world is thus absolutely good only in a 
 potential or hypothetic sense. And the hypothetic 
 form of the optimistic belief is the very signature 
 of its consistency and first condition of its proba- 
 bility, and faith is the only legitimate attitude of 
 mind it can claim from us. This is what optimism, 
 when assented to, and acting on the emotions, claim 
 to do for conduct, and, indeed, it is no slight thing. 
 
 It is a thing that makes all the difference 
 between the life of a race of brutes and the life of 
 a race with something which we have hitherto called 
 divine in it. 
 
 Optimism asserts that the human race, as a 
 whole, is a progressive and improving organism, 
 and the consciousness on the part of the individual 
 that such is the case, will be the principal cause of 
 its continued progress in the future, and will make 
 the individual a devoted and happy partaker of it. 
 
 For my present purpose, the word optimism is 
 good enough, although it is sometimes used with a 
 meaning which many devotees of the religion of 
 humanity would repudiate. 
 
 George Eliot, for instance, declared she was 
 not an optimist. "Things were not for the best," she 
 said, "but they were always tending to get better." 
 Nobody, again, lays greater or more solemn weight 
 on the doctrine of progress than does Mr. John 
 Morley, and yet nobody would more literally ridi- 
 cule the doctrines of certain optimists, particularly 
 that of Dr. Pangloss, whose favorite maxim is that 
 "all is for the best, in this best of possible worlds." 
 
 But, in spite of the sober and even somber view 
 which such thinkers take of the human lot, they still 
 believe that it holds some distinct and august mean- 
 
48 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 ing; that the tides of affairs, however troubled, do 
 not eddy aimlessly, and do not flow toward the 
 darkness, but keep due on toward the light, however 
 distant. 
 
 They believe, in short, that the human lot has 
 something in it, which makes it, in the eyes of all 
 who can see clearly, a thing to be acquiesced in, not 
 merely with resignation, but devoutness. 
 
 And now, having seen what optimism is, let us, 
 before going farther, make ourselves quite clear as 
 to what results in life its exponents claim for it. 
 They do not claim for it, as has been sometimes 
 claimed for Christianity, that it is the foundation of 
 the moral code. Our modern optimists, without a 
 single exception, so says one, hold the foundation 
 of the moral code to be social. In other words, 
 the end of moral conduct being the welfare of 
 society. Our assent to the creed of optimism makes 
 that welfare incalculably nearer and dearer to us 
 than it would be otherwise, and converts a mere 
 avoidance of such overt acts as would injure it 
 into a willing, a constant and eager effort to 
 promote it. 
 
 ''Nor is optimism," says Philips Brooks, ''the 
 belief that this is a thoroughly good world in which 
 we live; nor is it simply a careless passing over of 
 the evils of life because we do not choose to look at 
 them. On the contrary, a man is an optimist just 
 because he thinks the w^orld a good one, because he 
 sees whiteness in it, because he sees its possibilities 
 behind every accomplishment. 
 
 "Nor is optimism a way of seeing how every- 
 thing is going to come out for good. One may say, 
 what sort of optimism is that which does not know 
 how^ evil is going to be eradicated? On the other 
 hand, w^hat is it? It is a great belief in a great pur- 
 pose underlying the w^orld for good, for human ful- 
 fillment, which is absolutely certain to fulfill itself, 
 
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 49 
 
 somehow, somewhere? Where or how, I do not 
 know. That is optimism." So says that divine. 
 
 "Who are they that have been optimists?" asks 
 he. That is one way we judge of the deepest truths 
 of any thought. Have they been men who dwelt 
 upon the surface of things? I cannot call their 
 names, for they are legion, but the poets are all 
 optimists. Tennyson, sad as he is, sings it every 
 day. It was the same with Browning, and with 
 our own Lowell and his great strains; and it was 
 the same with Whittier, too, who had a hope. They 
 were men who were poets because their souls were 
 full of the certainty of the fulfillment of human life. 
 
 When one escapes out of the fog of pessimism, 
 he often finds himself in a world which is less 
 brutally lustful and sordid, is less full of weariness 
 and disease and melancholy. 
 
 It ought to be remembered that the course of a 
 great deal of current pessimism is to be found in 
 evil living. The man who is violating the laws of 
 life cannot be expected to think well of them. 
 
 All testimony of men of this class ought to be 
 rejected, for it is generally known that extravigance, 
 dissipation, dishonesty and intemperance have their 
 just punishment here. 
 
 "The simple fact that men have the power of 
 rationally adapting means to ends is enough to 
 prompt to effort and inspire hope, for in this power 
 lies the key to the highest possibilities of advance- 
 ment. He who knows can, and as long as this is 
 the case, the path of knowledge will be the upward 
 path." So says Mr. W. D. Le Sueur. 
 
 All that can be said is that, taking the world 
 and human consciousness as they are, there seems 
 to be one line of conduct which best subserves 
 human interests. That line consists in practicing 
 the lessons that nature and history have taught us, 
 using our faculties for the acquisition of real knowl- 
 
50 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 edge and our powers of foresight for a wise adjust- 
 ment of present action to further needs and results. 
 
 In spite of Mr. Mallock's theory, from the com- 
 mencement of history down to the present day, 
 there has been one way of being noble, and that has 
 been by caring for one's fellow-men. In the present 
 day, when the laws of social development and the 
 true relations of individual life are so much better 
 understood than formerly, there ought to be, and 
 there is, much more to nourish in individuals a 
 rational regard for the general welfare. The case 
 is one calling for the higher life of society, without 
 which the individual would starve. 
 
 The scientific solution may be summed up in 
 the word adaptation. There is a law in things 
 which slowly reveals to careful observation, and just 
 as the law is read, learned, marked and obeyed does 
 human life grow in value and more and more convey 
 its own justifications within itself. 
 
 ''Supposing it possible that religion should, in the 
 future, take the form of an earnest study of the 
 laws of life and of morality, personal and social, 
 who can forecast the glory that might yet be 
 revealed in this despised humanity of ours ? If any- 
 thing will thus transfigure society, we venture to 
 af^rm that it will be science pursued in a religious 
 spirit — that is, regarded as a ministry of truth and 
 good to mankind." So says Le Sueur. 
 
 That man can, and does, improve the physical 
 condition of the earth, making it a more suitable 
 dwelling place, is evident on every hand. 
 
 To enumerate briefly : In the way of encroach- 
 ing upon its forests, converting them into tillable 
 fields; he both drains and irrigates the soil, ^nd 
 when we consider the mighty effects of both, we 
 see that his part is wonderful ; he fortifies river 
 banks and maritime coasts, and constructs artificial 
 canals; he drains large lakes and swamps; he 
 
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 51 
 
 tunnels under mountains, under rivers and cities, for 
 railroad construction and other purposes, and cuts 
 great ship canals, separating great natural bodies of 
 land. These huge enterprises greatly modify the 
 surface of the earth. He domesticates animals and 
 improves them by breeding; also improves vege- 
 tables, plants and trees by husbandry, and estab- 
 lishes fish hatcheries. 
 
 Man is also great in altruistic projects which 
 help his fellows and make life agreeable, such as 
 the construction and operating of railroads, tele- 
 graph lines, telephones, newspapers, and a thousand 
 other useful enterprises. If, as evolutionists claim, 
 we have come up from the lowest form of organized 
 matter (and many of the most noted theologians 
 of the present day admit it), then there is no reason 
 to believe that man has stopped short in his upward 
 career. On the contrary, as mind is undoubtedly 
 an ulterian goal of the process, there is every reason 
 to believe that whether or not his body has stopped 
 in its upward progress, that mentally and 
 morally he is still advancing, and that we are grow- 
 ing wiser and better. This is shown by his 
 altruistic works. 
 
 Knowing the value of education in improving 
 the mind and morals of the young, he takes par- 
 ticular pains that it receives proper attention, not 
 only in the simple branches, but in higher studies, 
 believing that familiarity wath the reign of law in 
 the universe will give system to the thoughts and 
 morals of those who pursue such studies. 
 He constructs and maintains free libraries, where 
 all may secure such knowledge. Knowing that 
 civilization raises the savage from the condition of 
 a brute to that of a useful citizen, he takes pains 
 that useful arts and the sciences are inculcated. 
 
 But the best evidences of the usefulness of man, 
 and that the world is growing better, is seen in the 
 
52 PhSSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 
 
 treatment of defectives. Take the treatment of 
 criminals. Time was when they were kept under- 
 ground, chained together in gangs, hy the neck, and 
 not allowed to move away from each other for any 
 purjxDse whatever. As a result, prisons were hor- 
 ribly filthy and hotbeds of pestilence. Whereas our 
 modern prisons are models of cleanliness, health and 
 routine. 
 
 Similar remarks might be made of the treat- 
 ment of the insane. In the past, they were chained 
 like wild beasts, or kept in cages with a bed of 
 straw, and their food was thrown to them as if they 
 were dangerous animals. Today they are treated 
 like human beings. 
 
 But the greatest power of man in helping his 
 fellow^s is seen in his prevention of epidemics of 
 sickness, such as those of malaria, smallpox, yellow 
 fever and cholera. And then there are the arrange- 
 ments for caring for the sick poor. Their way is 
 paid by the authorities until they get on their feet 
 again. 
 
 If these do not show that the world is growing 
 better, I should like to know what would be neces- 
 sary to establish that fact. Does not this progress 
 in the past lead us to hope that there is in store for 
 us in the future things concerning which we dare 
 not dream? And this hope helps to bring these 
 destinies to their fruition. Therefore, whether the 
 world is actually growing greatly better should not 
 afTect us seriously, since our thinking it is, helps to 
 make it so. Hence, optimism is a better work- 
 ing theory than pessimism, and it is far more 
 comforting. 
 
Nervous Derangements 
 
 OR 
 
 Some of the Causes Which Lead to Sensorial 
 Deception 
 
 There is an inherent tendency in the mind of 
 man to ascribe supernatural agencies to those events 
 the causes of which are beyond his knowledge, and 
 this is especially the case with the normal and 
 morbid phenomena Avhich are manifested in his own 
 person. But, as his intellect becomes more thor- 
 oughly trained, the range of his credulity becomes 
 more and more circumscribed, his doubts are multi- 
 plied, and he at length reaches that condition of 
 ''healthy skepticism which allows of no belief with- 
 out the proof." 
 
 But there have always been individuals whose 
 love for the marvelous is so great and whose logical 
 powers are so small, as to render them susceptible 
 of entertaining any belief, no matter how preposter- 
 ous it may be ; and others who accept any 
 hypothesis which may be offered as an explanation, 
 rather than confess their ignorance. 
 
 As regards purely imaginary images — that is, 
 images not based on any sensorial impression — the 
 trouble is in the brain. An excess or deficiency of 
 blood circulating through this organ, or a morbid 
 alteration of its quality, will often lead to various 
 hallucinations. 
 
 Various mental emotions act in a like manner 
 by their influence in deranging the cerebral cir- 
 culation. 
 
 5- 53 
 
54 NURl'OUS DURANGEMBNTS 
 
 A young latly who had overtasked her mind at 
 school was thrown thereby into a semi-hysterical 
 condition, ckn-ing which she saw specters of various 
 kinds which passed and re-passed rapidly before her 
 all day long. Everything at which she looked 
 appeared to her of enormous size. A head, for 
 instance, seemed to be several feet in diameter, and 
 little children looked like giants. 
 
 Physical causes calculated to increase the 
 amount of blood or to alter its quality may have this 
 effect. A similar instance is related in Nicholson's 
 Journal. '*I knew a gentleman," he states, "in the 
 vigor of life wdio, in my opinion, is not exceeded by 
 any one in acquired knowledge and originality of 
 deep research, and wdio for nine months in suc- 
 cession was always visited by a figure of the same 
 man, threatening to destroy him, at the time of his 
 going to rest. It appeared upon his lying down, 
 and instantly disappeared when he resumed the erect 
 position. The explanation here is very simple. The 
 recumbent position facilitated the flow of blood to 
 the brain. Hence the appearance of the figure was 
 due to the resulting congestion. 
 
 ''A curious illustration of the influence of the 
 imagination in magnifying the perceptions of sen- 
 sorial impressions derived from the outer world, 
 occurred during the conflagration at the Crystal 
 Palace in the winter of 1866-7. When the animals 
 were destroyed by the fire, it was supposed that the 
 chimpanzee had succeeded in escaping from his 
 cage. Attracted to the roof with this expectation 
 in full force, men saw the unhappy animal holding 
 on to it and writhing in agony to get astride one 
 of the iron ribs. It need not be said that its strug- 
 gles were watched by those below wnih breathless 
 suspense, and, as the newspapers informed us, with 
 'sickening dread.' 
 
 "But there was no animal whatever there, and 
 
NERVOUS DBRANGBMENTS 55 
 
 all this feeling was thrown away upon a tattered 
 piece of blind, so torn as to resemble to the eye of 
 fancy the body, arms and legs of an ape." 
 
 There is one force which excites the astonish- 
 ment of the vulgar, and which it is inexplicable to 
 many who consider themselves learned, and that is 
 animal electricity. Yet all our knowledge of animal 
 electricity tends to show that it does not differ in 
 any essential particular from the galvanism devel- 
 oped outside of the body by chemical action; and 
 that the tissues of the body, the bones, muscles, 
 nerves, etc., act toward it precisely as they do 
 toward the galvanism which passes along an iron 
 or copper wire and sets a telegraphic instrument in 
 operation. 
 
 Concentrated attention is a source of erroneous 
 sensorial impressions. The attention, when concen- 
 trated upon any particular thing or part of the body, 
 will often lead to erroneous conclusions. An 
 observer, gazing anxiously out to sea or across a 
 vast plain, will scarcely ever fail to see the object 
 of which he is in search; and pains, tastes, odors, 
 and even disease, can frequently be thus originated. 
 Thus, a lady who is of a very impressionable organ- 
 ization, may be able at will to produce a pain in any 
 part of her body by steadily fixing her attention 
 upon it. Physicians know very well that actual 
 organic disease may be produced by the habitual 
 concentration of the attention on an organ. The 
 fancies of the hypochondriac may thus in time 
 become realities. 
 
 A timid woman goes to bed after having read 
 accounts or listened to stories of house-burnings. 
 Her attention is concentrated upon the one object, 
 and before she goes to sleep she sees lights, hears 
 the crackling of the flames, and smells the smoke. 
 
 Sleight-of-hand has been made use of to produce 
 the most extravagant deceptions, by carrying the 
 
56 NERVOUS DBRANGIIMUNTS 
 
 attention away from the proposition before us and 
 preparing the way for the most outlandish decep- 
 tions. The perfection to which this art is carried by 
 accompHshed performers is really remarkable, and 
 is much more wonderful than Avould be real visita- 
 tions of spiritual beings. For when we are deceived, 
 with all the elements of knowledge at our command, 
 it is certainly more astounding than w^ould be the 
 actual appearance before our eyes of something 
 which no one had ever seen before and of wdiich 
 no one knew anything. 
 
 For instance, ''a man stands before us, clothed 
 in ordinary apparel, and on an open stage of a 
 theater, wnth no drapery within reach, and nothing 
 to obstruct our full view of him. He takes a white 
 cambric handkerchief out of his coat pocket, and 
 holds it in both hands stretched out before him. He 
 then, still holding one corner w^ith his left hand, 
 seizes the other corner with his teeth, and with the 
 free right hand proceeds to take from under the 
 handkerchief bowl after bowd, to the number of a 
 dozen, full of w-ater to the brim, and each contain- 
 ing several gold fish. Now, such things are to me 
 more wonderful deceptions, as they are avowed to 
 be, for he admits and claims that they are imposi- 
 tions upon the eyesight of his audience, than would 
 be the apparition of a ghost of a person I knew^ to 
 be dead. A man in evening dress cannot reason- 
 ably be supposed to be able to carry a dozen gallon 
 bowls, full of water and fish, in his waistcoat 
 pockets. Such capacity is not for a moment to be 
 admitted, and yet he, in some way or other, deceives 
 the eyes of the hundreds of persons wdio are watch- 
 ing with every intention of detecting him if they 
 can. 
 
 "Another places a stool in full view of the spec- 
 tators, and on this stool puts a large empty basket. 
 There is no curtain around the stool, and it w^ould 
 
NERVOUS DBRANGBMBNTS 57 
 
 apparently be impossible for anything to pass 
 through the bottom of the basket without being 
 seen by everyone present. A woman then gets into 
 the basket, the lid is closed, and the performer, 
 drawing a long, sharp sword, plunges it in all 
 directions into the basket. Shrieks and groans, 
 gradually getting fainter and fainter, apparently 
 come from the basket, showing the presence of the 
 ventriloquist; blood, or what has the appearance of 
 blood, drops from the sword, and, finally, the cries 
 having ceased, the performer desists from his hor- 
 ribly realistic performance and announces that he 
 has done a part of his task, and will now proceed 
 to its conclusion. He calls loudly in an unknown 
 tongue, and straightway the woman who had 
 entered the basket walks into the room from the 
 farther end and takes her place upon the stage with 
 as much cool blood as though she had not been 
 just butchered in the presence of four or five hun- 
 dred people. The conviction of a woman going into 
 a basket is that she cannot get out of it in our pres- 
 ence and within our view without our knowledge, 
 and when she does get out under these circum- 
 stances, we are naturally astonished." 
 
 And yet the most of sleight-of-hand performers 
 do not claim there is anything unnatural in it. 
 Unnatural as it may appear, those who allege that 
 supernatural agents, such as spirits, are the efficient 
 workers in such phenomena are either themselves 
 deluded or are the base deluders of others — in other 
 words, are villains. 
 
 A sleight-of-hand performer knows very well 
 the great advantage of being able to engage the 
 attention of those whom he is deceiving. Mention 
 has already been hinted at of this element as a 
 source of inattention to other things which are going 
 on around. It is the drawing away of the attention 
 from those other thino:s that is the secret of the 
 
58 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 
 
 success. The fact that soldiers have been severely 
 wounded in battle without knowing it till faintness 
 supervened or the contest was over, is a familiar 
 fact. Because the attention was engaged in such 
 a -way as to draw it off from themselves. 
 
 When, in addition, the performer is enabled to 
 accompany his operations with imposing rites and 
 ceremonies, or an appearance of mystery or awe, 
 his success with a certain class of observers is still 
 more certain, for not only does he deceive their 
 senses, but he imposes on their understandings. 
 
 The perfection to which tricks of sleight of hand 
 can be brought is remarkable. In the East Indies, 
 the jugglers, in their dexterity, surpass the tricks 
 of experts of the western world, and they do not 
 pretend that their performances are anything than 
 adroit tricks. 
 
 Thus the Hindoo magician causes flowers to 
 grow several feet in a few minutes, changes his rod 
 into a serpent, suspends himself in the air, kills 
 people and restores them to life, and even allows 
 himself to be buried several months in the earth to 
 be dug up at the end of that time alive. In the way 
 of conjuring, nothing can exceed the skill of the 
 East Indian jugglers. Two hundred and fifty years 
 ago they were even more expert than now. For 
 instance, the conjurers were desired to produce upon 
 the spot, and from seeds, ten mulberry trees. They 
 immediately planted ten seeds, which in a few min- 
 utes produced as many trees, each, as they grew into 
 the air, spreading forth their branches and yielding 
 excellent fruit. But this was not all. Before the 
 trees were removed, there appeared among the 
 foliage birds of such surprising beauty in color and 
 shape and melody of song as the world never saw 
 before. At the close of the operation, the foliage, 
 as in autumn, was seen to put on its varied tints. 
 
NERVOUS DERAXGBMEKTS 59 
 
 and the trees gradually disappeared into the earth 
 from which they had been made to spring. 
 
 They produced a chain fifty feet in length, and 
 threw one end of it toward the sky, where it 
 remained as if fastened to something in the air. A 
 dog was then brought forward, and, being placed 
 at the lower end of the chain, immediately ran up 
 it, and, reaching the other end, disappeared in the 
 air. At last they took down the chain and put it 
 into a bag. 
 
 Yet these magicians and jugglers do not pretend 
 to be endowed with supernatural powers; still they 
 so overpower and deceive the senses as to make them 
 see the sights and hear the sounds they set out to 
 produce. 
 
 Among nervous disorders we may mention 
 natural somnambulism. In the condition known as 
 somnambulism, there appears to be a more or less 
 perfect state of automatism, or self-moving capacity, 
 which is the governing power of the individual. 
 Certain faculties and senses are intensely exalted, 
 while others are as completely suspended in action. 
 If the attention can be concentrated upon any par- 
 ticular idea, circumstance or object, great lucidity 
 is manifested. On the other hand, there may be, 
 and generally is, the most profound abstraction of 
 mind in regard to all other ideas and things. 
 
 One of the causes of this state is a particular 
 nervous temperament which predisposes individuals 
 otherwise in good health to paroxysms of somnam- 
 bulism during their ordinary sleep. Or it may 
 result as a consequence of a high degree of mental 
 exaltation. 
 
 A word or two with regard to Jane Rider, the 
 Springfield, Mass., somnambulist, will be both 
 instructive and interesting: 
 
 She was seventeen years of age, intelligent, of 
 mild and obliging disposition. Her education was 
 
60 NERVOUS DBRANGBMENTS 
 
 good for her class of society. She was of full habit, 
 but was subject to headaches, and about three years 
 previously was affected for several months with 
 St. Vitus' dance. Dr. Belden, who saw her in one 
 of her paroxysms, says of her : 
 
 ''It was determined to allow her to take her own 
 way, and watch her movements. Having dressed 
 herself, she went down stairs and proceeded to make 
 preparations for breakfast. She set the table, 
 arranged the various articles with the utmost pre- 
 cision, went into a dark room and into a closet at 
 the remotest corner, from which she took the coffee 
 cups, placed them on a w^aiter, turned it sideways 
 to pass through the doors, avoided all intervening 
 obstacles and deposited the whole safely on the 
 table. She then went into the pantry, the blinds of 
 which were shut, and the door closed after her. She 
 then skimmed the milk, poured the cream into one 
 cup and the milk into another without spilling a 
 drop. She then cut the bread, placed it regularly on 
 the plate, and divided the slices in the middle. In 
 fine, she went through the whole operation with as 
 much precision as the cook in open day; and this 
 with her eyes closed and without any light, except 
 that from one lamp which was standing in the break- 
 fast room to enable the family to observe her 
 operations. 
 
 '^During the whole time, she seemed to take no 
 notice of those around her, unless they purposely 
 stood in her way, or placed chairs or other obstacles 
 before her, w^ien she avoided them, with an expres- 
 sion of impatience at being thus disturbed. 
 
 "She finally returned voluntarily to bed, and on 
 finding the table arranged for breakfast when she 
 made her appearance in the morning, inquired why 
 she had been allowed to sleep while another per- 
 formed her work. None of the transaction of the 
 
NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 61 
 
 preceeding night had left the shghtest impression on 
 her mind." 
 
 She had many more paroxysms similar in gen- 
 eral character to that just described. Though it was 
 found that her sense of sight was greatly increased 
 in acuteness, she had no clairvoyance, properly so 
 called. It was ascertained, too, that, though she had 
 no recollection when awake of what she had done 
 during a paroxysm, she remembered in one par- 
 oxysm the events of the preceding one. Finally, 
 under suitable treatment her seizures disappeared 
 altogether. 
 
 Upon examination, it was found that she not 
 only had paroxysm of natural somnambulism, but 
 that she had acquired the power of inducing the 
 hypnotic state at will. 
 
 Her process was to take up some of the 
 philosophic works she was in the habit of studying, 
 select a paragraph which required intense thought 
 or excited powerful emotion, read it, close the book, 
 fix her eyes steadily, and then reflect deeply upon 
 what she had read. From the reverie thus occa- 
 sioned she gradually passed into the somnambulic 
 condition. During this state, it was said she 
 answered questions correctly, read books held behind 
 her, described scenes passing in distant places, and 
 communicated messages from the dead. 
 
 Women have repeatedly been placed in the 
 hypnotic state, and surgical operations have been 
 performed which would otherwise have caused great 
 pain, without the least sensation having been experi- 
 enced. 
 
 In a paper of this kind it is not expected that 
 hysteria can be treated of with any degree of ful- 
 ness. All that is necessary is to make the reader 
 understand the relations which it bears to various 
 delusions. There is a strong tendency in all persons 
 
62 XUKl'ObS DERANGEMENTS 
 
 afflicted with this disease to the occurrence of 
 symptoms which stimulate organic disease. 
 
 Paralysis, both of motion and of sensation, is 
 one of the morbid conditions thus assumed. Thus 
 a hysterical woman will suddenly take to her bed, 
 and declare that she has no feeling and no power in 
 her arms or legs. The most careful examination 
 shows that she is speaking the truth. Pins may be 
 thrust into the affected limb, it may be scorched, and 
 yet the possessor does not wince. A somewhat 
 analogous state exists in us all at times. When the 
 mind is intensely occupied, or the passions greatly 
 aroused, there is a like insensibility to pain. 
 
 I will briefly mention one case of Hystro- 
 Epilepsy : 'Tt began with slight tetanic rigidity, then 
 there were slight clonic convulsions, epileptiform in 
 character, with foaming at the mouth, and then the 
 consciousness having been regained the volitional 
 muscular contractions made their appearance, as well 
 as a higher state of delirium. The face tw^itched, 
 the tongue was protruded, the eyes rolled. She 
 seized books and other articles within her reach and 
 hurled them about the room. She swore fearfully 
 and uttered the most obscene w^ords with a horrible 
 leer on her face. Then she threw^ herself on the 
 floor and kicked, rolled and tossed about^ without 
 regard to decency or the safety of her own or others' 
 limbs. She dashed her head against a chair, 
 scratched her face, tore her hair and beat her breast. 
 Finally, she fell asleep utterly exhausted, and did 
 not awake for several hours. 
 
 ''She professed, evidently with truth, that she 
 had no recollection of what had taken place." 
 
 There are many other forms of nervous disorder 
 we might refer to, such as Catelepsy, Ecstacy, 
 Stigmatization, and such as occur in religious 
 revivals, as manifested by the Jerkers and Shakers, 
 for instance ; but I will conclude bv reference to a 
 
NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 63 
 
 couple of other forms of hysteria, to-wit : Devil 
 Dancing and the Laughing Gift. A devil has been 
 angered and must be propitiated. Beat the tom-tom 
 louder ! Let the fattest sheep be offered as a pro- 
 pitiation ! Let the horns blaze out as the priest rolls 
 about in the giddy dance and gashes himself in his 
 frenzy ! More fire ! Quicker music ! Wilder bounds 
 from the devil dancers ! Shrieks, and laughter, and 
 sobs, and frantic shouts ! Ha, ha ! The God is in 
 me and shrieks ! I will solace you, cure you, God 
 is in me, and I am God ! Hack and slaughter — the 
 blood of the sacrifice is sweet! Another fowl; 
 another goat — quick! I am athirst for blood! Such 
 are the words which hoarsely burst from the froth- 
 ing lips of the devil-dancer, as he bounds and leaps 
 and gyrates, with short, sharp cries, and red eyes 
 almost staring from their sockets. 
 
 Take last the Laughing Gift. Often some one 
 will feel a gift and will begin with he, he, he; 
 ha, ha, ha; ho, ho, ho. Another takes it up, and 
 soon all in the room are engaged in boisterous laugh- 
 ter. Once under full ''laughing gift," they will 
 hold on to their sides and reel in their chairs till 
 they become exhausted. This gift ends in a song: 
 
 Ho, ho, ho; he, he, he! 
 
 O, what a pretty little path I see ! 
 
 Pretty path, pretty play, 
 
 Pretty little angels; 
 
 Hay, hay, hay! 
 The first and last lines are sung with a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 This paper was extracted partly from the writ- 
 ings of Wm. A. Hammond, professor of diseases 
 of the mind and nervous system in the University of 
 New York City. 
 
Super^itions 
 
 One definition given of superstition is a belief 
 in what is absurd, or belief without evidence. 
 Another is a belief in the direct agency of superior 
 powers, in certain extraordinary or singular events, 
 or in omens and prognostics. 
 
 In primitive times the sufferer from disease was 
 subjected to cruelties, and even death, in order to 
 expel the demon which was supposed to harrass him. 
 Among savage tribes, as, for instance, in our Ameri- 
 can Indians, the loss of life from this cause was 
 very great, perhaps greater than from their frequent 
 wars. There can be no question that, next after 
 war, superstition was the most oppressive- evil of 
 early peoples. At any moment a person might be 
 found guilty of being possessed of a demon, for 
 which the treatment was usually a painful death. 
 
 I may say in the beginning that it is only by 
 exposing fallacies that we can hope for their extinc- 
 tion, but this is no easy matter, remembering the 
 axiom that ''there is no truth, however pure and 
 sacred, upon which falsehood can not fasten and 
 ingraft itself therein." 
 
 The results of science cannot dispel superstition 
 in the ignorant, from the view-point of the supersti- 
 tious man. A wagon moving without horses, a 
 message sent without wir'es, or a train propelled by 
 an unseen current adds to the miracle of it all. 
 
 I will quote somewhat extensively from Herbert 
 Spencer as to the genesis of superstitions : 
 
 "Comprehension of the thoughts generated in 
 
 • 64 
 
SUPBRSTITIONS 65 
 
 primitive man by his converse with the surrounding 
 world can be had only by looking at the surrounding 
 world from his standpoint," so says he. ''None can 
 do this completely, and few can do it even partially. 
 
 ''Men find it hard to re-think the thoughts of the 
 child; still harder must they find it to re-think the 
 thoughts of the savage. To look at things with the 
 eyes of absolute ignorance implies a self-suppression 
 that is impracticable. Nevertheless, we must here 
 do our best to conceive of the surrounding world as 
 it appeared to the primitive man, that we may be 
 able the better to interpret the evidence available 
 for our use." 
 
 Guided by the more especial doctrine of mental 
 evolution, we may help ourselves to delineate primi- 
 tive ideas in some of their leading traits. It is only 
 a few examples of these actions of the mind we 
 can take up in a paper of this kind. 
 
 "The sky, the sun, moon, stars and clouds appear 
 and disappear, and show signs of alteration. 
 
 "The earth's surface supplies various instances 
 of the disappearance of things which have unac- 
 countably appeared. No\v the savage sees little 
 pools of water formed by the rain-drops coming 
 from a source he cannot reach, and now in a few 
 hours the gathering liquid has made itself invisible. 
 Here, again, is a fog; perhaps lying isolated in the 
 hollows, perhaps enwrapping everything, which 
 came awhile since and presently goes, without leav- 
 ing a trace of its whereabouts. These and many 
 other occurrences show transition between the vis- 
 ible and the invisible." 
 
 Once more let me ask, what must be the original 
 conception of wind? Into this seemingly empty 
 space around there, from time to time, comes an 
 invisible agent which bends the trees, drives along 
 the leaves, disturbies the water, and which he feels 
 moving his hair, fanning his cheek, and now and 
 
06 Sb'PURSTiriOXS 
 
 then pushing his body with a force he has some 
 difticuky in overcoming. What may be the nature 
 of this agent there is nothing to tell him; but one 
 thing is irresistably thrust on his consciousness — 
 that sounds can be made, things about him can be 
 moved, and he himself can be buffeted by an exist- 
 ence he can neither grasp or see. 
 
 Significant of another order, from time to time 
 discloses themselves to primitive man; for instance, 
 the duality, or double nature, of things. Things 
 have obviously two states of existence. What about 
 his shadow ? By a child, a shadow is thought of as 
 an entity. Williams says of a Fijian little girl of 
 seven that "she did not know what a shadow was, 
 and could not receive a conception of its true 
 nature." Primitive man, with no one to answer 
 his questions, and without ideas of physical causa- 
 tion, necessarily concludes a shadow to be an actual 
 existence, which belongs in some way to the person 
 casting it. With primitive man, while shadows are 
 conceived as belonging to material things, it is 
 found they are capable of separation therefrom, as 
 by darkness, for instance. We find it stated of the 
 Benin negroes that they regard men's shadows as 
 their souls. They are afraid of their shadows, as 
 they think they w^atch all their actions. Among 
 the Greenlanders, a man's shadow is one of his two 
 souls — the one of which goes away from his body 
 at night. Some Fijians speak of man as having 
 two spirits. His shadow is called the dark spirit, 
 which, they say, at death goes to Hades. The other 
 is supposed to stay near the place where a man dies. 
 
 Let any one ask himself what would be his 
 thought if, in a state of child-like ignorance, he were 
 to pass some spot and to hear repeated a shout 
 which he uttered? AA^ould he not inevitably con- 
 clude that the answering shout came from another 
 person? Succeeding shouts severally repeated with 
 
SUPERSTITIONS 67 
 
 words and tones like his own, yet without visible 
 source, would rouse the idea that this person was 
 mocking him, and at the same time concealing him- 
 self. Nothing approaching to the physical explana- 
 tion of an echo can be framed by the uncivilized 
 man. 
 
 To identify the notions exemplified by primitive 
 man, it will be necessary to consider the meaning 
 of much evidence furnished by men who have 
 advanced beyond the savage state, advanced even 
 to a high degree of civilization. 
 
 As religion is made to include much superstition, 
 I will cite a few cases of a religious character : 
 
 An account is given of the casting out of a devil 
 from a boy named Michael Zilk by one Father 
 Aurelia. The exortist accused a Protestant woman, 
 Frau Herz, of having conjured the devil into the 
 boy, and denounced her as a witch, and was 
 prosecuted by the woman's husband for defamation. 
 The trial resulted in the condemnation of the 
 defendant. The case derives its chief interest from 
 the testimony of two ecclesiastical experts, both of 
 whom approved of Father Aurelia's method. ''That 
 men may enter into a league with Satan," is said 
 by one, "is affirmed both by the scriptures and the 
 teachings of the Catholic church." As regards the 
 boy, the Father was perfectly justified in assuming 
 that he was possessed with a devil, since all the signs 
 favored this presumption, such as sudden paroxysm, 
 abnormal bodily strength, a strange dread of holy 
 things, and demonical ecstacy. The demon becomes 
 firmly fixed in the organism and uses it as a base 
 of. operations, causing the individual to curse and 
 rage and foam, using his tongue to speak languages 
 unknown to him, endowing his muscles with pre- 
 ternatural force. The Father believed that the dried 
 pears which Frau Herz gave the boy had been 
 the means of conveying the demonical infection. 
 
68 SUPURSririONS 
 
 The boy doubtless had an epileptic fit, which was 
 caused by the pears. 
 
 That learned doctors of theology and high 
 church dignitaries should be willing to appear before 
 a court of justice at the present day with such expert 
 testimony as this is a curious mental phenomenon, 
 and a remarkablle instance of superstitious survival. 
 
 A few examples may be cited to show to what 
 extent the popular belief in witchcraft, demoniacal 
 possession, and the efficacy of conjurations still 
 prevails : 
 
 In the spring of 1894, a Hungarian started on a 
 bicycle from Bucharest with the intention of making 
 a tour through the Balkan peninsula to Constanti- 
 nople. He was overtaken by night, and stopped at 
 at hovel which served as a public house, and after 
 confiding his wheel to the care of the inn-keeper, 
 who took charge of it with considerable distrust, 
 went to bed. Very soon the news spread abroad 
 that a sorcerer had arrived riding on a magic car 
 drawn by invisible spirits, and a crowd of excited 
 peasants filled the inn, under the direction of the 
 priest, who sprinkled the bicycle wath holy water 
 and abjured the demon to depart. The magic -car 
 of the sorcerer was then taken out of doors and 
 demolished. 
 
 The results of such superstitious notions are not 
 always so harmless. Thus a peasant living near 
 Florence, in Tuscany, had a daughter who was sub- 
 ject to severe hysterical convulsions. The parish 
 priest intimated that the girl was probably possessed 
 with a devil. One day the peasant and his daughter 
 consulted a wise woman, famous for sorceries. The 
 old watch began her conjurations dragging herself 
 over the floor on her knees and howling fearfully. 
 Finally she ceased, and declared that the conjura- 
 tion had been successful. "Now, go home," she 
 added, "and heat the oven. The first person who 
 
SUPBRSriTIONS 69 
 
 comes to your door will be the one who has caused 
 your daughter's malady. Thrust this person into 
 the oven in the presence of your daughter, and there 
 will be no recurrence of the disease." Early the 
 next morning there was a rap at the door, and a 
 voice which said, "For heaven's sake, give me a 
 piece of bread !" The peasant rushed to the door, 
 seized the beggar woman, and, without a moment's 
 hesitation, put her into the heated oven. Two milk- 
 men passing by heard her cries, and rescued her. 
 
 The measures recently devised to suppress a 
 witch at Lupest, in Hungary, are the more note- 
 worthy, because they emanated from the civil 
 authorities. The death of an old woman who had 
 the reputation of being in solemn covenant with the 
 devil was the occasion of public rejoicing. In the 
 midst of the festivities, it was announced a villager's 
 cow had died suddenly, and under suspicious cir- 
 cumstances. The common council, after an official 
 investigation, reported that the cow had been 
 bewitched by the deceased beldame, and in order to 
 prevent her from doing further harm, commanded 
 that a stallion should be brought and made to leap 
 over her grave. The horse, however, showed signs 
 of fright, and refused to jump; and this circum- 
 stance greatly added to the public excitement. 
 Finally, it was decreed by the council that the body 
 of the witch should be exhumed and stabbed with 
 red-hot pitchforks. This proceeding proved effect- 
 ive, and the old hag ceased to trouble her former 
 neighbors. 
 
 In some districts of Dalmatia, it is still custom- 
 ary to throw all the women in the water on a 
 specified day to see whether they will sink or swim. 
 A rope is attached to each one in order to save from 
 drowning those who prove their innocence by sink- 
 ing. The witches who float are also pulled out, and 
 
70 SUPBRSriTIONS 
 
 are made to promise to renounce the devil on pain 
 of being stoned. 
 
 One of the most characteristic exhibitions of 
 reHgious folly and frenzy in our day is the proces- 
 sion of Jumpers, which takes place yearly in Luxen- 
 1)urg, and is popularly regarded as a sure cure for 
 epilepsy and St. Vitus' dance and other maladies of 
 men and beasts. This procession is one of the queer- 
 est sights that have been witnessed in Christendom. 
 The men, women and children who are to join in 
 the choral dance (which might easily be mistaken 
 for a Bacchanalian orgy) assembly on a meadow 
 near the town, where they are arranged in rows or 
 groups. At a given signal, the musicians strike up 
 the lively tune known as "AVillibrord's Dance," and 
 the saltatory movement begins, the whole mass 
 moving three or four steps forward and one or two 
 steps backward, or four steps to the right and the 
 same number to the left in a diagonal direction. 
 From a distance, the bobbing and swaying throng 
 resembles the swell and fall of a restless sea, or the 
 bubling and boiling w^ater in an immense caldron. 
 In this manner the procession moves on for more 
 than two hours, through the streets of the town and 
 up the sixty-two steps leading to the parish church, 
 where the dance is kept up for some time around the 
 tomb of St. Willibrord. The dancers join hands, or 
 more frequently hold together by means of a hand- 
 kerchief, for the sake of greater freedom of motion. 
 Here and there an old man may be seen dragging 
 along an infirm son, who makes desperate attempts 
 to leap with the rest; or a stout woman gasping 
 and sweating under the heavy burden of a paralytic 
 daughter, whom she bears in her arms as she bounds 
 to and fro. This reminds of Slatter's column of 
 dupes. 
 
 It is said that this custom arose from an epidemic 
 of St. Vitus' dance which broke out in the neighbor- 
 
SUPERSTITIONS 71 
 
 hood, that caused all the horses, cows, sheep and 
 goats to dance in their stalls and to refuse to eat. 
 The people made a vow to dance around the grave 
 of St. Willibrord, and no sooner was this vow ful- 
 filled than the plague ceased. So says Professor E. 
 P. Evans. 
 
 Some non-religious modern superstitions : A 
 great many believe that just as surely as the fox, 
 American, English or German, beheld his shadow 
 on the second day of February, and, beholding it, 
 shrank back to his hole, so surely would all foxes, 
 and the rest of us, see two winters in one year. We 
 of America have changed this to the ground hog, 
 and claim if he sees his shadow, he retires for six 
 weeks longer — anyway, the second day of February, 
 it seems, controls the weather for a time. 
 
 And who has not heard of carrying a potato or 
 horse-chestnut to ward off Rheumatism? Many 
 mothers believe that the flannel band worn about 
 the neck to cure an inflamed throat must be red, 
 as that color corresponds to the color of the malady. 
 In like manner the carrot is held in esteem in the 
 cure of Jaundice, yellow being the characteristic 
 color of both. The carrot is suspended in the room 
 occupied by the sufferer, and as the root shrivels 
 and dries up, the affection is removed. Seven drops 
 of blood from a cat's tail is an ancient remedy for 
 a sufferer with Epilepsy. 
 
 Many persons dread going on a journey or 
 cutting out a garment on Friday. This reminds us 
 that Dr. Simms, a New York surgeon, celebrated 
 for his success, used to choose Friday for his opera- 
 tions, as he could on that day get plenty of assist- 
 ance, for others preferred not to operate on that day. 
 
 The dread and wonder excited by the phenomena 
 of the elements, or the discovery of anything 
 unusual, either animate or inanimate, suggests to 
 
12 SUPERSTITIONS 
 
 the mind the existence and manifestation of Dieties. 
 The storm is caused by a monster bird, the move- 
 ments of whose wings produce the winds, and whose 
 voice is heard in muttering thunder. Even among 
 civiHzed peoples, the soil of the mind is prolific in 
 the cultivation of morbid fancies. It is not surpris- 
 ing, then, at this late day that the folk-lore and 
 superstitions of one part of the country may have 
 been transported into another, and there take root 
 and become incorporated as original. We are 
 familiar with the custom of having eggs served at 
 Easter breakfast, and also that of children receiving 
 presents of dyed eggs; sometimes toy rabbits or 
 hares, made of soft, fluffy goods and stuffed with 
 cotton or sawdust, were also given as presents. 
 Children were told that the hare laid the eggs, and 
 nests were prepared for the hare to lay them in. 
 The custom olDtains as well in south Germany, 
 where the people are noted for attachment to 
 ancestral customs. I may say, before Christ the 
 Egyptians dyed ostrich eggs. 
 
 The practice of nailing a horseshoe against the 
 lintel of a door is familiar to almost everybody, and 
 it is thought particularly efficacious in warding off 
 bad luck, if the shoe be one that was found upon the 
 highway. This custom obtains more especially 
 among the negroes. 
 
 Beliefs and superstitions relating to snakes are 
 exceedingly common. A very common belief is to 
 the effect that if one kills the first snake met with 
 in the spring, no others will be observed during the 
 remainder of the year. Occasionally we hear of 
 black snakes found in pastures, where they suckle 
 cows, so that these animals daily resort to certain 
 localities to secure relief from a painful abundance 
 of milk. As an illustration of the belief in the trans- 
 formation of human beings into serpents, I will 
 relate a circumstance said to have occurred during 
 
SUPERSTITIONS 73 
 
 the first part of the present century. So says W. J. 
 Hoffman : 
 
 ''Near Trexlertown, Lehigh county, Pennsyl- 
 vania, dwelt a farmer named Weiler. His wife and 
 three daughters had, by some means or other, 
 incurred the enmity of a witch, who lived but a short 
 distance away, when the latter, it is supposed, took 
 her revenge in the following manner : Whenever 
 visitors came to the Weiler residence, the girls, with- 
 out any premonition whatever, would suddenly be 
 changed into snakes, and after crawling back and 
 forth along the top ridge of the wainscoating for 
 several minutes, they were restored to their natural 
 form." 
 
 Another popular fallacy is the existence of the 
 hoop snake. This creature is usually reported as 
 capable of grasping the tip of its tail with its mouth 
 and, like a hoop, running swiftly along in pursuit 
 of an unwelcome intruder. This snake is believed, 
 furthermore, to have upon its tail a short, poisonous 
 horn, and that if it should strike any living creature, 
 death would result. Even if it should strike a tree, 
 it will wither and die. 
 
 The rattle of a snake, if tied to a string and 
 suspended from the neck of a child, will serve to 
 prevent convulsions; if carried by an adult, it will 
 guard against Rheumatism ; and the oil is employed 
 as a remedy for deafness. 
 
 Another curious superstition, held by young 
 men, is that if one places a snake's tongue upon the 
 palm of his hand, beneath the glove, it will cause 
 any girl, regardless of her previous indifference, to 
 ardently return his passion, if he be enabled but 
 once to take her hand within his own. 
 
 There are numerous methods of treating snake 
 bites, from the internal use of liquors to the applica- 
 tion of a snake or mad stone. The application of 
 this remedy gradually led to its employment in the 
 
74 SUPHRSriTlONS 
 
 bite of mad dogs. The prescription for the so-called 
 mad stone is generally as follows : Place it against 
 the wound until it becomes saturated with the poison, 
 when it will, of its own accord, fall off. Then boil 
 it in milk to remove the poison, and repeat the 
 application until the stone refuses to adhere. 
 
 "A short time since, I examined a celebrated 
 J^orth Carolina mad stone, one that had widespread 
 reputation," so says Dr. Hoffman. 'This stone was 
 of the size and form of an ordinary horse-chestnut, 
 white in color, and consisted of feldspar, a hard 
 mineral, usually found in granite. It possesses no 
 absorbent properties whatever, and its reputed 
 ability to extract poison, or any other liquid, was 
 utterly unworthy of a second thought." 
 
 To illustrate the esteem in which these substances 
 are held, I will only add that, in 1879, ^ ^^^d stone 
 was sold to a druggist in Texas for $250. The 
 specimen was said to have been found in the stom- 
 ach of a deer. 
 
 We are all aware of the frequency with which 
 the divining rod is used in the search for water. 
 
 SUPERSTITION IN NEW^ YORK 
 
 'Tn New York, the most modern of all large 
 cities, superstition thrives, gray with countless cen- 
 turies of age," so says Mr. Robert Shackleton. 
 ''When the night wind wails through the gorge-like 
 streets of the great East Side, thousands tremble, 
 for the restless cry is from the* souls of children 
 unbaptized." 
 
 Attention was drawn two years ago to a woman 
 in Ridge street, who had many clients, and whose 
 specialty was the bringing together of married folk 
 who had drifted apart. She charged $20 to each 
 v/ho invoked her aid, and for that sum she exorcised 
 the evil spirit, through whose malignancy the 
 separation had come. 
 
SUPBR::iriTIONS 75 
 
 One is taught how to discover a witch and how 
 to banish her, and also some remedies against 
 disease. There is the cure of toothache, for instance : 
 One is told to take a new, but useless, nail, pick the 
 teeth with it, then drive the nail into a rafter, toward 
 the rising sun, where no sun or moon shines, and 
 speak at the first stroke, ''Toothache, vanish !" on 
 the second, ''Toothache, banish !" on the third 
 stroke, "Toothache, thither fly!" 
 
 If one would be secure against the shot of a gun, 
 the following is infallible : "O, Josophat ! O, 
 Tomorath ! O, Posorath !" These words are to be 
 pronounced backwards three times. 
 
 Have you the stomach ache? Kiss a mule and 
 the ache will vanish while you are showing your 
 affection for the dumb animal. 
 
 It would be a mistake to think the superstitions 
 of New York obtain among the ignorant only. The 
 rich and well-to-do dread thirteen at table — the 
 result of a superstition which goes back to the 
 "Last Supper," where one was a traitor. Many, in 
 moving, will not carry away a broom. 
 
 Many count it unlucky to take the family cat 
 with them to the new home. There is a Wall Street 
 broker who must have his right cheek shaved first, 
 and the initial stroke must be upward. A certain 
 horse-owner is confident of success if, on the morn- 
 ing of a race day, he accidentally meets a cross-eyed 
 man. 
 
 Thus we perceive that the mere reference to the 
 trifles which are apt to control our actions brings 
 to our minds such a startling array of superstitions 
 observed by us in others, or perhaps entertained by 
 ourselves, that it becomes impractical to continue 
 further so prplifip a subject at this time. 
 
D 
 
 reaming 
 
 As dreaming takes place while we are sleeping, 
 it is desirable to say a few words concerning sleep. 
 Sleep is not a constant, but a fluctuating quantity. 
 There are degrees of sleep, so many intermediate 
 steps between it and waking; wherefore we may^ 
 rightly, be said to graduate through a twilight- 
 waking into imperfect sleep, and from light slumber 
 into profound unconsciousness. It is hard to say 
 sometimes whether we have been asleep or not, for 
 the w^anderings of grotesque ideas are so like dreams 
 that we know not at times whether they were a part 
 of our waking or of our sleeping life. 
 
 In the production of insensibility by the inhala- 
 tion of chloroform, we observe evidence that the 
 person hears after he can no longer see, and that 
 the senses of taste and smell are lost before those of 
 hearing and touch ; and in natural sleep it is obvious 
 that there are similar graduations of unconscious- 
 ness, one sense being sometimes more deeply asleep 
 than another. In like manner, when we awake, it 
 seldom happens that all our senses awake at the 
 same instant; indeed, they appear commonly to 
 wake successively. It ought not to appear strange, 
 then, that in some dreams active imagination is 
 exhibited and skillful bodily feats performed — a 
 proof that some mental and motor centers are awake 
 while others are asleep. It has been a disputed ques- 
 tion whether sleep is ever quite dreamless, and 
 opposite answers to it have been propounded. Some 
 writers hold that no state of sleep, however sound 
 
 76 
 
DREAMING 77 
 
 it is, is without dreaming, being infected in some 
 degree by the Cartesian dogma that the mind never 
 can be entirely inactive. Another tlieory which has 
 been broached with regard to dreaming is that we 
 only dream just as we are going to sleep, or just 
 as we are coming out of it — in the transition state 
 into and out of sleep. But this opinion seems, on 
 examination, to be less tenable than the opinion that 
 we never cease to dream when we are asleep. 
 
 ''The weight of evidence," so says Maudsley, 
 ''in a case which, by the nature of things, cannot be 
 decided, I believe to be on the side of the opinion 
 that the soundest sleep is a dreamless sleep." This 
 opinion is confirmed by cases of suspended anima- 
 tion, as, for instance, when a person is taken out 
 of the water in a completely unconscious state, and 
 revives only after energetic efforts at restoration 
 continued for an hour, or even for hours, it is as 
 certain as anything can well be that all mental 
 function was abolished from the moment he became 
 insensible unto the moment when sensibility 
 returned. 
 
 Take, again, the remarkable case of a blow on 
 the head, producing depression of the skull, pressure 
 upon the brain therefrom, and insensibility there- 
 with, with the raising of the depressed bone by 
 surgical means. The person has not only regained 
 consciousness instantly, but has gone on to finish a 
 sentence begun when he was struck down uncon- 
 scious. In cases of this kind, there is not the least 
 reason to suspect that there is any mental function 
 going on. 
 
 While this may all be true, it does not confirm 
 the theory of the entire absence of all mental activity 
 in the natural brain during sleep, as these were 
 abnormal conditions; at the same time I am 
 inclined to the opinion of Maudsley, that in sound 
 sleep mental activity entirely ceases. Others, how- 
 
78 DREAMING 
 
 ever, take a different view of the matter. It should 
 be remembered that dreams are readily forgotten. 
 One may say he has not dreamed at all, when it is 
 evident he has, both from the expression of his 
 countenance during sleep, as observed by others, 
 and words spoken ; for lightly sleeping ]^>ersons will 
 answer questions cautiously put to them; in fact, a 
 conversation may be carefully carried on with a sleep- 
 ing person, who, when he awakes, will remember 
 nothing of it. We know that while the body is 
 awake, the mind is always active. Does this activ- 
 ity entirely cease during the period of sleep? The 
 phenomena of certain varieties of trance indicate 
 that the mere semblance of death is not incompatible 
 with great mental activity. In like manner, the 
 phenomena of dreams serve to prove that various 
 intellectual processes, such as memory, imagination, 
 attention, emotion, and even volition, may still be 
 exercised while every external special sense is closed 
 by sleep. The result of the exercise of mental activ- 
 ity under such conditions constitutes a dream. 
 
 The fact that observers who have made trial 
 in their own persons have always found themselves 
 engaged with the details of a dream when suddenly 
 awakened from deep sleep has been supposed to 
 afford valuable proof of the proposition that the 
 mind is never wholly inactive durino- the deepest 
 sleep. To say nothing of the significance of certain 
 somnambulic states, in which intelligence evidently 
 exists for a long period of time, without leaving 
 any subsequent trace in memory, the mere fact that 
 we remember very few of the events that occupy the 
 mind in dreams cannot be urged against the doctrine 
 of continuous mental action, for we remember very 
 few of the images and ideas that have stirred the 
 depths of consciousness during the waking state. 
 Our recollection of dreams is exceedingly variable. 
 Sometimes we retain in memory all the events of a 
 
DREAMING 79 
 
 long and complicated vision, but usually, though 
 entranced by the vivid beauty of the spectacle that 
 unrolls its splendor before the eye of the mind in 
 sleep, and though the intensity of its seeming action 
 may be sufficient to awaken the dreamer, who recalls 
 each incident as he reviews the picture during the 
 first waking moments, the impression soon fades, 
 and the coming day finds him incapable of reproduc- 
 ing a single scene from the nocturnal drama. 
 
 Men little consider how mechanical they are in 
 their thoughts, feelings and doings. So fully pos- 
 sessed are they with the fixed, but erroneous, notion 
 that consciousness is the essential agent in all the 
 purposive things which they do that they stand 
 amazed when they watness any evidence of intelli- 
 gent action during the abeyance of consciousness, as 
 in sleep, and look upon it as marvelous, because they 
 were not lit up by consciousness. The mere fact that 
 we were not conscious of dreaming is no evidence 
 that we did not dream. How much of our thinking 
 and feeling goes on when we are awake of which 
 we are unconscious? It seems, in fact, that only a 
 minimum of our thoughts and feelings affect our 
 consciousness. When our thoughts attain a certain 
 intensity, we do become conscious of them, and then 
 it is only for an instant, when they subside below 
 consciousness again, but the process of unconscious 
 thinking goes on. This kind of thinking constitutes 
 a large part of our thinking lives. Hour after hour 
 of this kind of drifting, or reverie, passes on, and it 
 is only occasionally that we ask ourselves where we 
 are at, then relapse again into unconscious drifting. 
 
 If this takes place while we are awake, why may 
 it not take place when we are asleep? The fact 
 that we are not conscious of dreaming is no argu- 
 ment that we are not, or that our minds are not, 
 active, however soundly we may be sleeping. Very 
 much of our mental activity takes place below the 
 
80 DREAMING 
 
 level of consciousness, whether awake or sleeping. 
 Accurate and logical thinking or reasoning does not 
 need the cognizance or aid of consciousness. As 
 thinking and reasoning are done by the aid of certain 
 laws of association of ideas, of which consciousness 
 gives no testimony, consciousness, in fact, may inter- 
 fere with these processes by distracting the mind. 
 Example: If we have forgotten some lines of a 
 poem and set to work consciously to recall them, we 
 are likely not to succeed, whereas if we give over our 
 minds to unconscious efforts, we are more likely to 
 have them hunted up for us ; for consciousness does 
 not govern our lines of thought. They are controlled 
 by other agencies. Why, then, should it be consid- 
 ered a strange thing that the courses of our dreams 
 should proceed without such agencies? They do 
 proceed with only imperfect control of the associa- 
 tion of ideas, or any control imposed through the aid 
 of consciousness, and with only imperfect control of 
 the will, and these are the reasons wdiy they proceed 
 in a strangely incongruous way. 
 
 A certain amount of volition, or will power, is 
 supposed to go along with dreams, but it is insuffi- 
 cient to control the course of our trains of thought. 
 Neither is the influence of the laws of association of 
 ideas, which, as Maudsley says, is only another 
 phrase for the force of habits of thinking. There is 
 not an entire suspension of volitional control over 
 the current of thought, but only an imperfect suspen- 
 sion. 
 
 'T have been brought, on two or three occasions, 
 to the very verge of being hanged in my dreams," 
 says Maudsley, "having waked up at the last moment 
 before the operation was to be performed, and on 
 each occasion I have been conscious of a determined 
 suppression of any betrayal of fear." 
 
DREAMING 81 
 
 CHARACTER OF OUR DREAMS 
 
 "Our dreams are as variable as the clouds that 
 drift upon the currents of the air, as on a hot day 
 in summer," so says Henry M. Lyman, ''when the 
 steady equatorial draught has ceased to guide the 
 wind, we may observe all manner of local tides in 
 the masses of vapor which arise from the earth; so 
 in sleep, when the quieting mfluence of the senses 
 is withdrawn from the brain, the ideas that still arise 
 are chiefly dependant on the habitual and reflex 
 action for their origin and association. Undis- 
 turbed by impulses from the external world, the 
 brain seems then more sensitive to impressions that 
 originate within the body." 
 
 An overloaded stomach, an enfeebled heart, or 
 an irritable, nervous ganganglion may become the 
 source of irregular and uncompensated movements 
 which may invade the brain, and there set in motion 
 a whole battery of mechanisms whose influence upon 
 consciousness would be quite unnoticed were the 
 external senses in full operation. 
 
 ''It has been well remarked," so says Carpenter, 
 "that nothing surprises us in dreams. All probabili- 
 ties of time, place and circumstances, are violated; 
 the dead pass before us as if alive and well ; even 
 the sages of antiquity hold personal converse with 
 us ; our friends upon the antipodes are brought upon 
 the scene, or we ourselves are conveyed thither, with- 
 out the least perception of the intervening distance ; 
 and occurrences, such as in our waking state would 
 excite the strongest emotions, may be contemplated 
 without the slightest feeling of a painful or pleasur- 
 able nature. Facts and events long since forgotten 
 in the waking state and remaining only as latent 
 impressions in the brain, present themselves to the 
 mind of the dreamer; and many instances have 
 occurred in which the subsequent retention of the 
 
82 - DREAMING 
 
 knowledge thus re-acquired has led to most import- 
 ant results." 
 
 Thus Candorcet saw in his dreams the final steps 
 of a difficult calculation which had puzzled him dur- 
 ing the day; and Condillac tells us that when 
 engaged in his studies, he frequently developed and 
 finished a sul)ject in his dreams which he had broken 
 off before retiring to rest. 
 
 RAPIDITY OF DREAMING 
 
 One of the most remarkable of all the peculiari- 
 ties in the state of dreaming is the rapidity with 
 which trains of thought pass through the mind, for 
 a dream in wdiich a long series of events has seemed 
 to occur and a multitude of images has been suc- 
 cessively raised up — in fact, a tragedy or comedy of 
 several acts is devised and performed in a moment or 
 a few seconds — although whole years may seem to 
 have elapsed. ''He assists, happy or distressed, 
 applauding or condemning, at a spectacle which is 
 all his own creation, and has not the will or the 
 power to modify its course to any great extent." 
 There would not appear, in truth, to be any limit to 
 the amount of thought which may thus pass through 
 the mind of the dreamer in an interval so brief as to 
 be scarcely capable of measurement; as is obvious 
 from the fact that a dream involving a long succes- 
 sion of supposed events has often distinctly origi- 
 nated in a sound which has also awoke the sleeper, 
 so that the whole must have passed during the almost 
 inappreciable period of transition between the previ- 
 ous state of sleep and the full waking consciousness. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS THAT WE ARE DREAMING 
 
 There may be a distinct feeling that we are 
 dreaming. We may say to ourselves, "It is only a 
 dream," and we may doubt the reality of the images 
 which flit before the mental vision. If this feeling 
 
DREAMING 83 
 
 becomes stronger, it probably will awaken us. Yet 
 we may make a voluntary and successful effort to 
 prolong them, if agreeable, or to dissipate them, if 
 unpleasihg, thus evincing the possession of a certain 
 degree of that directing power, the entire want of 
 which is the characteristic of the true state of 
 dreaming. 
 
 LOSS OF IDENTITY 
 
 It is impossible there can be full use of reflection 
 when most of the habitual trains of thought are sus- 
 pended in sleep. For this reason the sense of per- 
 sonal identity, the unity of individual character, is 
 confused and seemingly lost. We are ourselves and 
 somebody else at the same moment, as other persons 
 seem to be themselves and not themselves, and we do 
 absurd and perhaps transcendently criminal things in 
 the most matter-of-fact way, all the while mildly 
 surprised, or not at all surprised, at ourselves for 
 doing them. For the absence of surprise at the 
 extraordinary events which take place in dreams is 
 sometimes very remarkable. But it is not always com- 
 plete. In some instances there is only a partial sur- 
 prise. It is probable that wdien we begin in our 
 dreams to be surprised at the change of identity, and 
 to think about it as odd, we are on the point of 
 waking. 
 
 But it seems that throughout all the vagueness of 
 dreaming there is generally at bottom an obscure 
 feeling or instinct of identity, or else we should not 
 ever be surprised at ourselves when we seem to be 
 not ourselves. 
 
 The reason I believe to be that the body preserves 
 its identity, notwithstanding that our conscious func- 
 tions are in the greatest distractions. Yet our differ- 
 ent impressions, organic or systemic, are carried to 
 the brain from the internal organs, and it is this 
 physiological unity of organic or bodily functions, 
 
84 DREAMING 
 
 which is suniethiiig deeper than consciousness, and 
 constitutes our fundamental personaHty, that makes 
 itself felt with more or less force in every conscious 
 state, dreaming or waking. There is philosophy in 
 this because it indicates that all the organs of the 
 body are connected directly with the brain and indi- 
 rectly with each other, and that our sense of identity 
 or unity grows out of this nervous connection. 
 
 It is sometimes said that in dreaming there is 
 loss of the faculty of combining and arranging ideas. 
 True it is, that there is usually a loss of the faculty 
 of combining and arranging them as we do when we 
 are awake; but one of the most remarkable features 
 of dreaming is the singular power of combining and 
 arranging ideas into the most vivid dramas. The 
 same sort of thing occurs in the waking state, when 
 the succession of thoughts is not controlled by reflec- 
 tion upon some definite subject, and it constitutes 
 the chief part of the mental activity of a great num- 
 ber of persons who spend their time in vacant reverie 
 or in rambling incongruities of ideas. Were a faith- 
 ful record kept of the fantastical play of ideas under 
 these circumstances, it would often read as wild as 
 any dream. The point, however, which I desire to 
 lay stress upon and to fix attention to here is the 
 tendency of ideas, how^ever unrelated, to come 
 together and to form some sort of mental imagery, 
 wildly absurd or more or less conformable to nature 
 — the actual constructive power which they evince — 
 for it plainly indicates that the plastic power of 
 mind — its so-called imagination — is at bottom func- 
 tion of the supreme brain centers — something which, 
 being displayed when will is in abeyance and con- 
 sciousness a mere gleam whenever there is the least 
 display of brain mental function, must plainly lie 
 beneath consciousness and beneath will. It is, if 
 you please, unconscious mental function. 
 
 "He who makes it a rule through life to take 
 
DREAMING 85 
 
 care that what he puts away in his mind and accumu- 
 lates (for there is a singular power in the dreamer 
 of recollection, of which he has not the least remem- 
 berance in the waking state — he can lay under con- 
 tribution the long unused stories of memory and 
 reproduce them with a surprising vividness and 
 accuracy — there is not, in fact, a corner in the brain 
 in which there is a memory registered that may not 
 rise into unwonted activity and remarkable vividness 
 in the dreams, so that he who takes care what he 
 stores up) is a treasure of pure and good materials 
 will do much toward making the dreams that will 
 haunt his sleep in the later years of life not only 
 tolerable, but, as far as night thoughts can subserve 
 any useful or beneficial purpose, will improve his 
 time well and will be rewarded later in this life for 
 being good in his earlier years." 
 
 Herbert Spencer, an eminent philosopher, was 
 of the opinion that, in primitive man, ideas about 
 spirits and an after life arose from dreams. Says 
 he : *'A conception which is made so familiar to us, 
 during education, that we mistake it for an original 
 and necessary one is the conception of mind, as an 
 internal existence distinct from body. Yet, if we 
 ask what is given in experience to the untaught 
 human being, we find that there is nothing to tell 
 him of any such existence. But until there is a con- 
 ception as an internal principle of activity, there can 
 be no such conception of dreams as we have.'' 
 
 The sleeper, on awaking, recalls various occur- 
 rences, and repeats them to others. He thinks he 
 has been elsewhere ; witnesses say he has not ; and 
 their testimony is verified by finding himself where 
 he was when he went to sleep. The simple course is 
 to believe both that he has remained and that he has 
 been away ; that he has two individualities — one of 
 which leaves the other and presently comes back. 
 He, too, has a double existence. The North Ameri- 
 
 7- 
 
86 DREAMING 
 
 can Indians think there are duplicate souls, one of 
 which remains with the body, while the other is free 
 to depart on excursions during sleep. The theory 
 in New Zealand is that during sleep the mind leaves 
 the body and that dreams are the objects seen during 
 its wanderings. Among the Hill-tribes of India, 
 the same doctrine is held, their statement being that 
 in sleep it (the spirit) wanders away to the ends of 
 the earth, and our dreams are what it experiences in 
 its perambulations. The Sandwich Islanders say the 
 departed member of a family appears to the sur- 
 vivors sometimes in a dream. In East Africa they 
 believe the spirits of the dead appear to the living in 
 dreams. The Zulus believe that the persons who 
 appear in dreams are real. Enough has been said 
 to show that dream experiences are the experiences 
 out of which the conception of a mental self event- 
 ually grows. 
 
 One of the experiences suggesting another life 
 is the appearance of the dead in dreams. Manifestly 
 the dead person recognized in dreams must be per- 
 sons who were known to the dreamers. Savages 
 who like the Mangamjas expressly ground their 
 belief in a future life on the fact that their friends 
 visit them in their sleep. 
 
Moral Insanity 
 
 The word insanity is repulsive, yet the study of 
 the different forms of that disorder throws great 
 hght upon the normal workings of the mind. But 
 to understand its abnormal workings, it is necessary 
 to have considerable knowledge of its normal func- 
 tions, greater than most persons possess. To under- 
 stand moral insanity, however, such knowledge is 
 not essential ; the knowledge necessary is that of 
 good and evil ; hence moral insanity is a much more 
 suitable subject for a popular lecture. Although, 
 when moral insanity is fully developed, it consti- 
 tutes man a monster. 
 
 Moral insanity is a term frequently used to 
 denote vicious or criminal instincts in a person who 
 is mentally little defective. The term was originated 
 nearly half a century ago by an Englishman, Dr. 
 Prichard, who declared that insanity exists some- 
 times with an apparently unimpaired state of the 
 intellectual faculties; and the conception has been 
 developed by many of the best observers of mental 
 diseases. There is, however, a tendency to drop 
 the expression "moral insanity," and to speak instead 
 of ''moral imbecility." 
 
 The condition in question is described by alienists 
 as an incapacity to feel or to act in accordance with 
 the moral conditions of social life. Such persons, it 
 is said, are morally blind; the mental retina has 
 become benumbed. The moral imbecile is indiffer- 
 ent to the misfortunes of others and to the opinions 
 of others. Although defective on the moral side, 
 
 87 
 
88 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 these persons are well able to make use of the 
 intellectual conceptions of honor, morality, and 
 philanthropy. Such words are frequently on their 
 lips, and it is quite impossible to convince them of 
 the unusual character of their own acts. They are 
 absolutely and congenitally incapable of social educa- 
 tion, systematically hostile to every moralizing influ- 
 ence. Being themselves morally blind, it is their 
 firm conviction that all others are in the same 
 condition. 
 
 It is obvious that these symptoms closely resem- 
 ble those described as characterizing the criminal in 
 his most clearly marked form — the instinctive crimi- 
 nal. There can be little doubt that the two groups 
 overlap in a very large degree. 
 
 A couple of cases will help to throw light upon 
 the subject : 
 
 "A single lady of forty-five was of good social 
 position, yet her appearance was anything but attrac- 
 tive. She was withered, sallow, blear-eyed, with an 
 eminently unsteady and untrustworthy eye. So 
 improper and immoral was her conduct that she was 
 obliged to live apart from her family in lodgings, for 
 she seemed incapable, in certain regards, of any con- 
 trol over her propensities. No appeal was of any 
 avail to induce her to alter her mode of life. She 
 was prone to burn little articles, impulsively throw- 
 ing them in the fire, saying that she could not help 
 it, and then cutting and pricking her own flesh by 
 way of penance. 
 
 "When reasoned or remonstrated with about her 
 foolish tricks, she professed to feel them to be very 
 absurd, expressed great regret, and talked with 
 exceeding plausibility about them, as though she was 
 not responsible for them. It was of no use whatever 
 speaking earnestly with her, since she admitted her 
 folly, and spoke of it with the resigned air of an 
 
MORAL INSANITY 89 
 
 innocent victim. Her habits were unwomanly and 
 offensive." 
 
 Coulston reports the case of a lady who, by a 
 series of extraordinary misrepresentations and clever 
 impostures, raised large sums of money on no secur- 
 ity whatever, and spent them as recklessly ; imposed 
 on jewelers so that they trusted her with goods 
 worth hundreds of pounds ; furnished grand houses 
 at the expense of trusting upholsterers; introduced 
 herself by open impudence to one great nobleman 
 after another, and then introduced her dupes, who, 
 on the faith of these distinguished social connections, 
 at once disgorged money. To one person she was 
 a great literary character, to another of royal 
 descent, to another she had immense expectations, to 
 another she was a stern religionist. At last all this 
 lying, cheating, scheming and imposture developed 
 into marked brain disease, and finally the cause of 
 her boldness, cunning and mendacity become evi- 
 dent. 
 
 This case reminds us of Mrs. Cassie Chadwick, 
 concerning whose form of suspected moral insanity 
 we shall have to wait further developments. 
 
 It is quite certain that these women so lost to 
 all sense of the obligations and responsibilities of 
 their positions could not restrain their immoral 
 extravagances and vicious acts for any length of 
 time. They knew quite well the difference between 
 right and wrong, but no motive could be roused in 
 their minds to induce them to pursue the right and 
 eschew the wrong. Their conduct revealed the 
 tyranny of a vicious organization whose natural 
 affinities were evilwards. Naturally, therefore, such 
 patients feel no shame, regret, nor remorse, for. their 
 conduct, however flagrant, unbecoming and immoral 
 it may be, — never think that they are to blame, and 
 consider themselves ill-treated by their relatives 
 when they are interfered with. They cannot be fitted 
 
90 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 for social intercourse. Friends may remonstrate, 
 entreat and l)lame, and punishment may be allowed 
 to take its course, but in the end both friends and 
 all who know them recognize the hopelessness of 
 improvement, and acknowledge that they must be 
 placed under control. 
 
 I will now give the history of a more decisive 
 and significant example of this same moral insensi- 
 bility : 
 
 "It was in a child — a school girl, twelve years 
 of age. At her trial, there was not the slightest 
 emotion or deep excitement. When questions were 
 put to her of a very serious character, she remained 
 self-possessed, lucid and childlike. Said she : 'My 
 mother has several times whipped me for naughti- 
 ness, and it is right that I should take away the stick 
 with which she beat me, and to beat her.' 
 
 " 'Sometime,' to use her own language, 'in 
 playing in the yard, I came behind a child, held his 
 eyes, and asked him who I was. I pressed my 
 thumbs deeply in his eyes, so that he cried out and 
 had inflamed eyes. I knew that I hurt him, and, in 
 spite of his crying, I did not let go until I was made 
 to. When I was a little child I have stuck forks in 
 the eyes of rabbits, and afterwards slit open their 
 bodies. 
 
 " 'In going on an errand, I met little Margarette 
 Detrich, who was three years old. I had known her 
 a few months. I wanted to take away her earrings. 
 I went with her up the stairs to the second floor, to 
 take them from her, and then to throw her out of 
 the window. I wanted to kill her because I was 
 afraid she would betray me. I opened the window 
 and put the child on the ledge, with her feet hanging 
 out and her face turned away from me. I took the 
 earrings and put them in my pocket. Then I gave 
 the child a shove, and heard her strike the lamp, and 
 then the basement. I was not sorry. I was not 
 
MORAL INSAXITY 91 
 
 sorry all the time I was in prison. I am not sorry 
 now.' " 
 
 This was a case of well-marked moral insanity. 
 In this case, the child's father was not known to the 
 physicians, and no taint of insanity was found ; but 
 in a host of other cases of like nature, insanity was 
 known to have been present in the ancestors. Moral 
 insanity is pre-eminently hereditary. Good qualities 
 are well known to be so. 
 
 Darwin says, ''if a variation is an advantage to 
 an animal in the struggle for life, it is transmitted 
 by hereditary;" and there is every reason to believe 
 that bad characteristics are so transmitted also. 
 
 The general belief of pathologists is that very 
 many diseases are, to-wit: Syphilis and Consump- 
 tion. The wisest of philosophers, such as Herbert 
 Spencer and Darwin, and pathologists and special- 
 ists in nervous diseases such as ^laudsley, Lombroso, 
 and almost all neurologists, are firmly convinced that 
 most nervous diseases are so transmitted. This is 
 true of insanity in most forms, but more especially 
 of moral insanity. 
 
 The following account of moral imbecility was 
 of a child : 
 
 "My first experience of Alice," so says the 
 WTiter, "was when she was four and a half years 
 old. Her infancy was tenderly cared for, not only 
 by her father but by his mother. I had great diffi- 
 culty in teaching her to read antl count. It was at 
 this time I became impressed with the feeling that 
 she was not as other children. Coaxing and punish- 
 ment were alike unavailing. 
 
 ''At five and a half years old, she was sent to a 
 good school, where she now is. Her mental progress 
 has surprised me, especially in certain branches of 
 study, but her moral nature remains entirely as 
 before. There seems to be no appreciation of the 
 nature of truth in her, no sorrow for naughtiness, 
 
92 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 no wish or pleasure to be good, Ijut a great acuteness 
 in slyly persisting in what she has been told not to 
 do. There appear to be times when she is indelicate 
 in her person, dirty in her habits, and generally 
 inclined to be vicious. She is rarely, if ever, pas- 
 sionate, but w^ill w^alk quietly up to a brother or sis- 
 ter and either slap or knock them down without any 
 provocation. She does things which show a distress- 
 ing want of moral susceptibility. " 
 
 Her maternal uncle is in an asylum on account 
 of similar deficiencies. 
 
 The power of hereditary influence in determining 
 an individual's nature has been more or less dis- 
 tinctly recognized in all ages. Solomon proclaimed 
 it to be the special merit of a good man that he 
 leaves an inheritance to his children. On the other 
 hand, it has been declared that the sins of the father 
 shall be visited upon the children unto the third and 
 fourth generations. We know, also, the story in 
 "Aristotle" of the man wdio, when his son dragged 
 him by his hair to the door, exclaimed : "Enough, 
 my son! I did not drag my father beyond this." 
 And Plutarch puts the doctrine of heredity in a shape 
 that is both ancient and modern : "That w^hich is 
 engendered is made of the very substance of the 
 generating being, so that he bears in him something 
 which is very justly punished or recompensed for 
 him, for this something is he." 
 
 OVERCOMING ADVERSE HEREDITY 
 
 Among the heroes of the w^orld, none have done 
 better w^ork for mankind than those wdio have turned 
 evil heredity into good heredity. Happy is his lot 
 who has had good ancestors. What a true man 
 would wish his children to become, that he will be 
 for the sake of his children. 
 
 "I cannot resist this evil." So said a young man 
 to Mr. Butterworth. 
 
MORAL INSANITY 93 
 
 "You are about to marry," said he. "Would 
 you have your children slaves to the passion which 
 holds you?" 
 
 "No, never;" said he. "I must overcome — I will 
 overcome ! How could I ever look into a cradle and 
 feel that my child was a slave?" 
 
 It is a principle of moral evolution that anyone 
 can overcome evil, if he have a sufficient motive. 
 This is true if he be a normal individual. 
 
 Bolingbroke left his dissipation when the vision 
 of the crown rose before him. Shakespeare thus 
 pictures the altered life of Henry V : 
 "The breath no sooner left his father's body 
 But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
 Seemed to die, too. Yea, at that very moment, 
 Consideration, like an angel, came 
 And whipped the offending Adam out of him." 
 
 He who destroys an evil in his own nature gives 
 a good influence to all time. He who reverses 
 heredity is a benefactor of generations. And he is 
 indeed a celestial knight who changes the currents, 
 of evil heredity into streams of good. He is indeed 
 fortunate if he has the ability to do so. But suppose 
 he has not; that he is defective morally, and has 
 not the power in himself and has not the power to 
 take an education. 
 
 Undoubtedly education has an important bearing 
 where they have the ability to receive it. And yet, 
 in some cases, education merely puts a weapon into 
 the hands of the anti-social, such as are those in 
 question. The only education that can avail any- 
 thing must be education in the true sense — an edu- 
 cation that is as much physical and moral as intel- 
 lectual, an education that enables him who has to 
 play a fair part in social life. 
 
 All education must include provision for the 
 detection and special treatment of abnormal children. 
 And yet they are marked specially by their marked 
 
94 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 resistance to educative influences. However, it 
 must not be forgotten that, to a large extent, the 
 child is moulded before birth. It must always make 
 a great difference whether a man is well born and 
 starts happily, or whether he is heavily handicapped 
 at the very outset of life. 
 
 We have great faith in the efficacy on the normal 
 individual of training mind and body in producing 
 a systematizing of thoughts, feelings and move- 
 ments, and hence in the development of moral 
 character. 
 
 Next in importance to the inborn nature is the 
 acquired nature, which a person owes to his educa- 
 tion and training, not alone to the education which 
 is called learning, but to the development of char- 
 acter which has been evoked by the conditions of 
 life. 
 
 There is no doubt that the knowledge of the 
 reign of law in nature does guide our impulses to 
 wiser and, therefore, better action ; that good action 
 promotes in time corresponding moral development 
 of character. Training of the muscle has a similar 
 effect, especially the muscles of the hands and fore- 
 arms and legs. It has influence upon the mind 
 centers which lie in close proximity in the brain to 
 the motor centers. Hence the great popularity of 
 rowing and gymnastic games at schools; the pro- 
 fessors endorsing them for the reason that those 
 wdio stand high at these sports generally stand high 
 in their studies. 
 
 The favorable influences of drilling are seen on 
 the mind and morals of the prisoners at Elmira, 
 New York. At the same time, the peculiarity about 
 the morally insane is that they are little susceptible 
 to moral training. They may be susceptible to a 
 fair degree of intellectual culture, such as in the 
 study of mathematics, the languages, philosophy, 
 etc. They may make some considerable advance in 
 
MORAL INSAXITY 95 
 
 these branches, which is aU right, for in some cases 
 it affects considerably the mind. After all that can 
 be said, an individuars nature will assimulate — that 
 is, it will make of the same kind with itself that 
 which is akin to its nature. And the cases we have 
 cited show what little effect advice, coaxing, and 
 even punishment, had upon those who were morally 
 defective. 
 
 I will quote a case bearing upon the point. It 
 is that of a soldier, and is as follows : 
 
 ''He had been a lieutenant in a volunteer regi- 
 ment, and I," so says his superintendent, ''gave him 
 rather more privileges on that account; but after a 
 time I found that he was more nearly an example 
 of total depravity than I had ever seen. There was 
 no truth in him, and he was intelligent enough to 
 make his lies seem plausible to me, as wxll as to 
 others. By his writing and talking and conduct gen- 
 erally he kept the patients and their friends in a 
 ferment, and gave me more trouble than the whole 
 hospital besides. 
 
 ''He had a small scar about the middle of his 
 forehead, which he said was due to a slight flesh 
 wound from a glancing ball in battle. While he was 
 under my care, an older brother came to see him, 
 and he told me that up to the time his brother (my 
 patient wdio so tried my patience) entered the army, 
 he w^as almost a model young man, aimiable and 
 affectionate, the pet of the wdiole family and inti- 
 mate friends. 'But,' said he, 'ever since he came 
 back, he has been possessed of a devil, if ever one 
 was.' 
 
 "After a time, much to my delight, he asked for 
 a transfer to the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, Ohio, 
 which I got for him with commendable alacrity, and 
 he went there. His conduct at Dayton was the same 
 as with me, but after a few months he quite sud- 
 denly died, when an autopsy was made. In sawing 
 
96 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 open the skull at the point of the small scar on his 
 forehead, the saw came directly upon the butt end 
 of a conical bullet, two-thirds of which projected 
 through the skull, piercing the membranes, and into 
 the brain. The internal table of the skull had been 
 considerably splintered by the ball, the pieces not 
 being entirely separated, and there was evidence of 
 severe chronic inflammation all around, and quite a 
 collection of pus in the brain where the ball projected 
 into it. 
 
 "Here was the devil that had possessed the poor 
 fellow — that not only took his life, but destroyed his 
 character, lost him the love and esteem of his friends, 
 and doomed him for half a dozen years to do things 
 he would most have hated and despised when he was 
 himself. 
 
 "The assistant surgeon found in this man's trunk 
 letters from half a dozen women at least, in various 
 places, from which it appeared that he was engaged 
 to be married to each one of them. In several 
 instances the date of reception and reply was noted 
 in a business-like way." 
 
 Westphall well says of such persons : "They 
 often think correctly and logically, and show reflec- 
 tion and deliberation to a certain degree; but there 
 is a certain something lacking, and there are some 
 general conceptions, general processes of thought 
 and judgment, of which they are incapable. Their 
 mentality stops short on a certain plane, especially 
 in matters of judgment where every, even unedu- 
 cated, person easily succeeds. Certain of the finer 
 feelings are absolutely impossible of development in 
 them. They often seem perverse, passionate, 
 although of true, sustained passion they are 
 incapable. Cases of this kind may not reach actual 
 intellectual derangement, the moral feeling being 
 the acquisition of human culture in the course of 
 
MORAL INSANITY 97 
 
 development through the ages, its loss is one of the 
 earliest effects of degeneration." 
 
 Moreover, it will always be necessary to consider 
 the social condition of any one suspected to have 
 moral insanity, inasmuch as it is in the loss of social 
 feeling by reason of disease that the alienation essen- 
 tially consists. If a person loses all good feelings, 
 and from being truthful, temperate and considerate, 
 becomes a shameless liar, shamelessly vicious and 
 brutally perverse, then it is impossible not to see 
 the effects of disease. 
 
 Such moral alienation may occur after previous 
 attacks of insanity, after acute fevers, after some 
 form of brain disease, or after injury of the head, 
 as was the case with the example just cited of the 
 wounded soldier. 
 
 SELFISHNESS OF SUCH CASES 
 
 As feeling lies deeper in the mind than thought, 
 the understanding is not entirely unaffected, albeit 
 there may be certainly no positive delusions. The 
 whole manner of thinking and reasoning concerning 
 self is tainted by the mOrbid self-feeling. The person 
 may judge correctly of the relations of external 
 objects and events, and may reason very acutely 
 with regard to them; but no sooner is self deeply 
 concerned — his real nature touched to the quick — 
 than he displays in reasoning the vicious influence 
 of his morbid feelings and an answering perversion 
 of judgment. He sees everything from the stand- 
 point of the narrowest selfishness, gratifies each 
 vicious desire of the moment without the least sense 
 of shame or thought or prudence, and lies most 
 shamefully. He cannot truly realize his relations 
 as an element in the social system. It is well to bear 
 in mind that the individual is a social element, and 
 to take into account his social relations. 
 
 That which would not be offensive or unnatural 
 
98 MORAL IXSAXITY 
 
 in a person belonging to the lowest strata of society 
 would be most offensive and unnatural in one hold- 
 ing a good position in it. W^ords which, used in the 
 latter case, would betoken grave mental disorder, 
 may be familiar terms of address amongst the lowest 
 class. There would be nothing strange in an Irish 
 laborer going about the streets without his coat or 
 in his using coarse language to his wife ; but if a 
 grave and reverend bishop were to walk about the 
 town in his shirt sleeves and to use to his wife such 
 language as the laborer uses habitually, there would 
 be good cause to suspect that his mind was deranged. 
 
 "The extremest example of moral insanity which 
 I ever saw," says Maudsley, ''was in an old man, 
 sixty-nine. He had no little intellectual power, 
 could compose well, write tolerable poetry with much 
 fluency, and was an excellent keeper of accounts. 
 There was no delusion of any kind, and yet he was 
 the most hopeless and trying of mortals to deal with. 
 Morally, he was utterly depraved; he would steal 
 and hide whatever he could. He then pawned what 
 he had stolen, and begged and lied with such plaus- 
 ibility that he deceived many. He could make excel- 
 lent suggestions and write out admirable rules for 
 the management of an asylum, and was very acute 
 in detecting any negligence on the part of others; 
 but was always on the watch himself to evade the 
 regulations of the house. In short, he had no moral 
 sense wdiatever. At long intervals this patient 
 became as plainly insane as any patient in the 
 asylum." 
 
 And yet, in the face of cases like this and others 
 I have related, people go on maintaining that the 
 moral sense is independent of physical organization. 
 
 We see the same moral insanity in children who 
 descend from degenerate or insane parents. Other- 
 wise we could not account for the extraordinary 
 precocity in cunning lying and vicious propencities 
 
MORAL INSANITY 99 
 
 which is displayed sometimes in very young chil- 
 dren. They are destitute of all feelings of affection 
 for father or mother, brother or sister; have no 
 social sympathies, so that they mingle not with other 
 children in their play; delight in destruction and in 
 the infliction of tortures on such animals as they dare 
 meddle with; lie or steal with an ingenuity that is 
 incredible to those who have not experience of their 
 extreme moral perversion. They are not in the least 
 degree susceptible to moral influence, the severest 
 penal discipline and the most patient forbearance. 
 The fact is, they are destitute of that potentiality of 
 moral development which should be innate in the 
 human constitution at their age. 
 
 As there are persons who cannot distinguish cer- 
 tain colors, having what is called color-blindness, 
 and others who, having no ear for music, cannot 
 distinguish one tune from another, so there are some 
 few who are congenitally deprived of moral sense. 
 Associated with this defect there is frequently more 
 or less intellectual deficiency, but not always; it 
 sometimes happens there is a remarkably acute 
 intellect with no trace of moral feeling. 
 
 There is one disease to which adults are subject, 
 viz : Paralytic Dementia, in which the moral charac- 
 ter deteriorates early in its history, before the friends 
 notice that there is much else the matter, before his 
 mind shows symptoms of failure. It is generally a 
 long-lived disease, yet early in its history there is 
 moral failure. The banker loses his property by 
 foolish ventures, the saving business man buys 
 quantities of useless articles, the moral man becomes 
 licentious, or the temperate a drunkard, the respected 
 father of a family goes to the state's prison for run- 
 ning off with a pretty servant girl, the high- 
 standing citizen is in a police court for assault or 
 stealing money or jewelry. Examined by a com- 
 petent physician, these men are found to be struck 
 
100 MORAL INSANITY 
 
 by a fatal disease. Yet a prunuunced symptom early 
 in the disease was loss of moral control. This is the 
 form of insanity we suspect will follow in Mrs. 
 Chadwick's case. 
 
 In the preparation of this paper I was greatly 
 indebted to Professors Mandsley, Ellis and others. 
 
Kinship of Genius and Insanity 
 
 As we cannot give a concise definition of either 
 genius or insanity that would be intelligible and 
 embrace all cases, we are forced to deal with both 
 somewhat at large. To show the value of experi- 
 ence with the insane, I will cite one example : 
 
 "A man," so says Maudsley, 'Svho has been 
 hitherto temperate in all his habits, prudent and 
 industrious in business, and exemplary in the rela- 
 tions of life, undergoes a great change of charac- 
 ter — gives way to dissipation of all sorts, launches 
 into reckless speculations in business, and becomes 
 indifferent to his wife and family and the obligations 
 of his position. His surprised friends see only the 
 eft'ects of vice, and grieve over his sad fall from 
 virtue. After a time they hear that he is in a police 
 court, accused of assault or of stealing money or 
 jewelery, and are not greatly astonished that his 
 vices have brought him to such a pass. 
 
 ''Examined by a competent physician, he is dis- 
 covered to have a slight peculiarity of articulation, 
 particularly of words containing Unguals and labials, 
 such words, for instance, as truly rural ; and he also 
 has, perhaps, a slight inquality of the size of the 
 pupils, symptoms which, in conjunction with the 
 previous history, enable the physician to say with 
 positive certainty, that he is struck with a disease 
 which, sapping by degrees his intellect and strength, 
 will destroy finally his life." 
 
 This disease is what is known as general paralysis 
 of the insane. It is generally a long-lived disease, 
 
 8- 101 
 
102 K/xsjur or uiixius and insanity 
 
 and it is a niatlor of cunifort to the physician to be 
 able to explain from slight and oljscure symptr 
 the exact nature of the case. This case shows 
 thcr, that where an experienced man would see 
 clearly insanity, others would not suspect such a 
 thing; and the object of this introduction is to 
 emphasize this fact. This precludes the conception 
 that an insane mind is always a wild and incoherent 
 one, whereas the insanity may effect the feelings 
 vnd emotions alone. On the contrary, it confirms the 
 truth, that obscure symptoms alone may long be 
 present; in other words, that insanity may be very 
 difficult to discover. Witness a case of monamania, 
 where the victim may be shrewd enough to conceal 
 his delusion under the most rigid examination. There 
 is nothing more difficult than to detect insanity in 
 these cases, unless the delusion is known. 
 
 Genius has been classed by not a few wa'iters on 
 mental diseases w^ith insanity. This impious pro- 
 fanation is not, however, altogether the work of 
 doctors, nor is it the fruit of modern speculation. 
 The great Aristotle observed that, imder the influ- 
 ence of congestion of the head, many persons become 
 poets, and are pretty good poets, wdiile they are 
 maniacal, but when cured can no longer write verse. 
 After the first battle of the Civil War, many sol- 
 dit^rs, on account of the unusual excitement, became 
 maniacal. One wdiom I remember, sang hymns 
 immoderately, and composed rhymes as he sang, 
 and it w^as surprising how^ well he composed. 
 
 Democriatus was more explicit, and would not 
 believe that there could be a good poet who was not 
 out of his mind. Pascal, later on, repeated that 
 extreme intelligence was very near extreme mad- 
 ness, and himself offered an example of it. Said 
 another, "Oh! how near are genius and madness." 
 Many examples of men wdio were at once mad and 
 highly intelligent are offered by various authors. 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 103 
 
 No one has maintained more openly than Schopen- 
 ■^uer, who was himself insane, the relationship of 
 j^-^nius to insanity. "People of genius," he wrote, 
 ''are not only unpleasant in practical life, but weak 
 in moral sense, and wicked." Genius is closer to 
 madness than to ordinary intelligence. The lives of 
 men of genius show how often, like lunatics, they 
 are in a state of continual agitation. 
 
 The paradox that confounds genius with nervous 
 disorder, however cruel and sad it may seem, is 
 found to be not devoid of solid foundation. 
 
 Congestion of the brain is common to both the 
 insane and men of genius. With regard to the mor- 
 bid alterations of the brains of the insane, discovered 
 post-mortem, it is said they are found in the mem- 
 branes and superficial parts of that organ mostly, and 
 those changes are the results of congestion and 
 inflammation. Thus, there are thickings and opacity 
 of the membranes and adhesions and signs, such as 
 effusions in the superficial parts of the brain. Many 
 cases, especially those of temporary insanity, are 
 clearly the result of congestion alone. This is shown 
 by the temporary influence of many substances, such 
 as alcohol and opium. 
 
 The pathalogical changes referred to in the 
 brains of the insane are a result of the long-contin- 
 ued action of congestion and inflammation. 
 
 A certain activity of the cerebral circulation is 
 necessary to mental activity, and in some cases, 
 injuries of the head have led to genius, by producing 
 a more active determination of blood to the brain 
 than was normal, for some of those to be cited were 
 unintelligent before the injury, such as was the case 
 with Marcus Clark, the Australian novelist, whose 
 skull was crushed in youth by the kick of a horse: 
 under injuries of the head come Vico, Gratry, Clem- 
 ent VI, Melebranche, and others. 
 
 Generally apoplexy leaves a man only half a 
 
1U4 KIXSJJIP Ol' GISXWS AND INSANITY 
 
 man, because the clot of blood in the brain 
 interferes with the circulation in that organ; later, 
 however, the circulation may undergo such modi- 
 fication as will be favoral)le to mental activity : Wit- 
 ness Pasteur, who did his best work after an attack 
 of that character. I know of others who come under 
 this description. I have had some experience along 
 this line myself. 
 
 In this paper I shall quote a goodly number of 
 literary men, almost all of whom were authors. The 
 means some prominent authors resorted to for aiding 
 a determination of blood to the brain may be inter- 
 esting. Thus Schiller plunged his feet in ice-cold 
 w^ater to drive the blood out of them, thinking it 
 would go to the brain. Another retired into a cold 
 room, with his head enveloped in hot cloths, to 
 invite the blood thereto. Rosseau meditated with 
 his head in the full glare of the sun, while Shelley 
 lay on the hearthrug with his head close to the fire. 
 
 All these were instinctive methods of augmenting 
 the cerebral circulation at the expense of the general 
 circulation. These men knew that a certain amount 
 of blood in the brain \vas favorable to mental activ- 
 ity. But it is doubtful wdiether they knew that 
 beyond a certain amount, confusion of ideas and an 
 unreliable judgment are the results. 
 
 Goethe often said that a certain cerebral irrita- 
 tion is necessary to the poet. "Nothing, in fact, so 
 much resembles a person attacked by madness as a 
 man of genius w^hen meditating and moulding his 
 conceptions. He exhibits a small contracted pulse, 
 cold skin, a hot, feverish head, and brilliant, wild 
 injected e3^es." So says Parise. 
 
 The brains of men of genius show post-mortem 
 conditions similar to those found in the insane, such 
 as the evidence of superficial inflammation. 
 
 The close relationship of genius and insanity 
 is further shown bv the influence of the weather on 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 105 
 
 both. Take insanity first: "A series of clinical 
 researches which I carried on for six consecutive 
 years," so says Lombroso, "has shown me with cer- 
 tainty that the mental condition of the insane is 
 modified in a constant manner by barometrical and 
 thermometrical influences. \Mien the temperature 
 suddenly rose above a certain point, the number of 
 maniacal attacks increased nearly two-fold. On 
 days in which the barometer showed sudden varia- 
 tions, especially of elevation, the number of maniacal 
 attacks rapidly increased." 
 
 The study of 23,602 lunatics, indicating the 
 extensive experience of the man, Lombroso, has 
 shown me that the development of insanity coincides 
 with the increase of monthly temperature and the 
 great barometrical perturbations in September and 
 March. The minimum number of outbreaks of 
 insanity is found in the coldest months. The records 
 of other lunatic asylums coincide with this state- 
 ment. 
 
 Now, a similar influence may be noted in those 
 to whom nature, benevolently or malevolently, has 
 conceded the power of intellect, more generously 
 than to others — genius, for instance. There are few 
 among these that do not confess that their inspira- 
 tion is subject to the influence of the weather. They 
 have to struggle against the malignant influences 
 which impede the free flight of thoughts. One 
 writer foretold storms two days before hand. Main 
 de Biran wrote : 'T do not know how it is that in 
 bad weather I feel my intelligence and will so unlike 
 what they are in fine weather." 
 
 Thermometric influence is clear and evident. 
 Napoleon suffered from the faintest wind : loved 
 heat so much that he would have fires even in July. 
 Voltaire and Buffon had their studios warmed 
 throughout the year. One writer could compose 
 only beneath six quilts in the summer and nine in 
 
100 KlXSniP OF CliXIUS AXD INSANirV 
 
 the winter. These examples allow us to suspect that 
 heat aids in the production of genius, and, unfor- 
 tunately, in the stimulation of mania. This reminds 
 us of the fact that race horses make the best time 
 in the hottest weather. 
 
 The parallelism of genius and insanity is shown 
 further by the proclivity of both men of genius and 
 the insane to melancholy. The tendency to melan- 
 choly is common to the majority of thinkers, and 
 depends upon their exalted general sensitiveness. 
 'Tt is proverbial," said one, ''that to feel sorrow 
 more than other men constitutes the crown of thorns 
 of genius." Aristotle remarked that men of genius 
 are of melancholic temperament. Goethe confessed 
 that his character passed from extreme joy to 
 extreme melancholy, and that every increase of 
 knowledge was an increase of sorrow. 
 
 This last statement is contrary to the usual 
 experience of healthy-minded, educated man ; with 
 him every increase of knowledge is an increase of 
 joy; and yet Goethe is cited as an exceptionally 
 well-balanced literary man, whereas the statement 
 just cited shows that he was not. His moral char- 
 acter substantiates this statement. 
 
 *T am not made for enjoyment," wrote Flow- 
 bert. Giusti was affected by hypochondria, which 
 reached to delirium. "Thought," wrote one, ''has 
 long inflicted on me, and still inflicts, such martyr- 
 dom as to produce injurious affects, and it will kill 
 me if I do not change my manner of existence." 
 
 I said, in civilized man every increase of knowl- 
 edge is an increase of joy; but this is not true with 
 barbarous man. With him, the least mental exer- 
 tion is painful. "Ask any uncivilized person," so 
 say travelers, "a few^ cjuestions, about his language, 
 for instance, and he soon shows signs of weariness 
 and his head begins to ache." 
 
 There was something wrong w^ith all the men 
 
KINSHIP OF GEKiUS AXD IXSAXITV 107 
 
 above cited — some disorder of the emotions, doubt- 
 less due to chronic congestion of the head, as a 
 healthy, well-developed brain which education pro- 
 duces, craves for, and leads to, mental activity, and 
 there is nothing that surpasses the secret joy of 
 thought and invention. 
 
 But the number of intellectual giants who have 
 shown abnormalities of mind is so immense that it 
 would require a small volume to record even their 
 names ; and the list of great men who have com- 
 mitted suicide is almost endless. 
 
 A fact worthy of note in this connection is the 
 insane and criminal parentage and descent of genius. 
 We find that many lunatics have parents of genius, 
 and many men of genius have parents or sons who 
 were epileptic, mad or, above all, criminal. Byron's 
 mother was half-mad, his father was dissolute and 
 eccentric, and is said to have committed suicide. It 
 has been said of Byron, that if ever there was a case 
 in which hereditary influence could justify eccen- 
 tricity of character, it was his. 
 
 Melancholy is present, also, in a great many 
 forms of insanity, one form bearing the name Alel- 
 ancholia. It may be an initial stage of acute mania 
 or of paralytic dementia, and may be persistent. It 
 may be present with delusions, such as a refusal to 
 eat, and disagreeable hallucinations of various kinds. 
 It was written for the benefit of the courts by some 
 one whose name I have forgotten, that it should be 
 kept in mind that persons with acute melancholy 
 have diminished power of self-control ; in other 
 words, are insane in a measure. 
 
 THE EFFECT OF CONSERVATION OR PERSISTENCY OF 
 ENERGY 
 
 There is much in this doctrine, as applied to the 
 brain — that is, where certain parts of that organ are 
 too constantly exercised by one kind of mental activ- 
 
108 KIXSIIJI' OI' GliNIUS AND INSANITY 
 
 ity, they become unduly clevelui)C(l at the expense of 
 others, which atrophy or dwindle. For instance, 
 where a surplus of energy is given to the intellectual 
 centers, less remains for the moral cells. "A fact 
 established by Tamburini and myself," so says one, 
 "was that the best artists of the asylums were all 
 morally insane." And how is it that so many 
 philosophers affirm that genius consists in an exag- 
 gerated development of one faculty at the expense of 
 others? It is certain that there have been men of 
 genius presenting a complete equilibrium of the 
 intellectual faculties^ but they have defects of affec- 
 tivity and feeling. Great intellect, as a whole, is 
 not readily united with a large emotional nature. 
 
 The incompatibility is best seen by inquiring 
 whether men of overtiowing sociability are deep, 
 original thinkers, or whether their greatness is not 
 limited to the sphere where feeling performs a part. 
 Therefore, in addition to a natural inharmonious 
 proportion in the various cells of the brain there 
 may be developed a great disparity by our habits of 
 thinking and feeling, and hence the danger of a 
 hobby in producing an unbalanced condition. There 
 is scarcely a genius on record in whom we could not, 
 if well acquainted with his character, find evident 
 flaws. 
 
 There is Herbert Spencer, for instance. Judg- 
 ing alone by his sensible voluminous waitings, not- 
 withstanding his theory of universal evolution, 
 which was the burden of his life, and the theme that 
 runs through all his writings, we would say he was 
 one of the most level-headed men that ever lived; 
 and yet he was noted for his complete indifference 
 to women (a trait of character common to many 
 other men of genius), for it is said of Spencer that 
 he was never known to be in love with a woman in 
 hiis life. But was he merely a man of talent, or was 
 he a genius? 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 109 
 
 Lowell says they are not the same. He says that 
 talent is that which is in a man's power; genius is 
 that in whose power a man is. From the facts men- 
 tioned above concerning Spencer, from his origin- 
 ality, his instantaneous and unconscious flashes of 
 thought, from his poor memory for certain things, 
 his nervous break-downs, the long intervals in which 
 he dare not write anything, from his insomnia, and 
 other things, we infer that he was afflicted with that 
 disease we call Genius, and that he was also out of 
 harmony with his surroundings, which was shown 
 by the fact that at one time he could bear only a few 
 minutes' conversation, and this, too, when he was up 
 and about and in the prime of life. This symptom 
 grew on him with age. In his old age, Mr. Carnegie 
 made him a present of a new piano, which he had 
 played upon on two occasions, but not more, as it 
 completely unstrung him. 
 
 Xotwithstanding his dogma of human evolution, 
 no one could have imagined that Darwin, a model 
 father and citizen, so self-controlled, and even so 
 free from vanity, w^as a neuropath. Like all neuro- 
 paths, he could bear neither heat or cold; half an 
 hour of conversation beyond his habitual time was 
 suflicient to cause sleeplessness and hinder his work 
 on the following day. He suffered from Spinal 
 Anaemia and Giddiness (which last is known to be 
 frequently the equivalent of Epilepsy) ; he also had 
 curious crotchets. 
 
 We do not say these men w^ere actually insane; 
 mtellectually deranged. This would have been a 
 strange occurrence in men of science. Had they 
 been artists, it would doubtless have been different. 
 That they suffered from abnormal affectivity and 
 lived on the borderland of insanity is not incredible 
 to believe, for it should not be forgotten that dis- 
 order of the emotions leads to disorder of the intel- 
 lect. 
 
110 KJXSJJJJ' Ul- UUMUS AND JXSAXJTy 
 
 Then there is Edison, our own genius, whose 
 hobby is electricity; and he, too, has shown strong 
 symptoms of abnormahly. First, was in his abrupt 
 proposal of marriage, that was without a preliminary 
 courtship, which even the fowls of the air indulged 
 in : He had a lady telegraph operator in his employ, 
 who one day said to him: "Mr. Edison, I can 
 always tell when you are behind me or near me." 
 
 Said he in turn : "Miss , if you are willing 
 
 to marry me, I would like to marry you." Next, 
 there is his restlessness, concerning which he tells 
 us himself, in relation to working out a problem in 
 mathematics, that he cannot do it on paper, ''for I 
 must be moving around." Lastly, there is the fact 
 that, instead of taking pleasure in his inventions, as 
 most men do, he hates them, however successful. 
 It is said he has not used a telephone in ten years; 
 cannot bear the sight of them; and walks out of 
 his way to avoid the sight of an electric light. If 
 these things be true, they are symptoms of abnormal 
 afifectivity, for when we reflect that he has nearly 
 1,000 patents, it is evident he must be in a miserable 
 state of constant hatred. It is said that Edison 
 thinks four or five hours of sleep out of the twenty- 
 four is enough for any one ; an opinion not endorsed 
 by any one else. If he acts upon this theor}^, no 
 wonder he is a genius and has abnormalities. A 
 certain prominent English physician, whose name I 
 have forgotten, testified on one occasion in court 
 that he had never seen a perfectly sane man. This 
 is going a little too far, as it makes all the human 
 race insane, a proposition we cannot believe. On 
 the other hand, those who see insanity alone where 
 the intellect is affected see only a comparatively small 
 number of cases. Insanity may be in the emotions 
 alone. 
 
 Anyway, the examples above cited will serve to 
 show the necessity of a good, all-round mental 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 111 
 
 development versus a special one, including moral 
 training as the best generative and preservative of 
 a well-balanced mind. That genius is an extraordi- / 
 nary and abnormal variation from a healthy average 
 manhood is shown by the fact that it is only slightly \ 
 hereditary. It is not as much so as insanity, show- 
 ing that it is a greater variation from a normal 
 standard. Commonly geniuses are sterile. Crocker 
 says that all the great English poets have no pos- 
 terity. 
 
 Still geniuses do have off-spring, but they are 
 rarely geniuses. An exception, perhaps, should be 
 made of musical geniuses — witness : the Bach family. 
 Nevertheless, the exception wears out and disappears 
 in no great lengtli of time. Yet, that talent is trans- 
 missible by inheritance, within the limits of the 
 species, appears entirely in keeping with our knowl- 
 edge of human nature. The world would have made 
 poor progress in enlightenment and civilization if 
 the modifications wrought in man's brain by intel- 
 lectual and moral culture had not been inheritable. 
 This indicates a difference between genius and intel- 
 ligence, and this difference makes in favor of the 
 abnormality of genius. Genius is unnatural, for it 
 discerns afar-off annalogies too dim for the normal 
 eye, and leaps gaps too wide for the healthy limb. 
 
 Sir Francis Galton, on account of the number of 
 children of ability born to men of talent, used to 
 think that genius, too, was inheritable, but after- 
 ward changed his mind, becoming convinced that 
 all extraordinary characters tend to revert to 
 mediocrity, since there is a repugnance in nature to 
 mediocrity, since there is a reupgnance in nature to 
 extreme variations from the average type. \\>re 
 genius decidedly inheritable, the result would soon 
 be the development of a higher species of man, sep- 
 arating itself widely from lower species. A genius 
 
112 KlXSIIir OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 
 
 is not a new and distinct individual; he is still a 
 man, and the only question is whether, in many 
 cases, his variation does not make him an abnormal 
 specimen. Dryden expressed the truth when he 
 wrote that charming verse which runs : 
 
 "Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
 And thin partitions do their bounds divide." 
 
 jMoreau was not far wrong when he said : 
 ''Genius has its material substratum in a semi-morbid 
 state of the brain, which is substantially identical 
 with the insane temperament." One thing is cer- 
 tain, and that is great genius has its roots in a nerv- 
 ous organization of exceptional delicacy. *'This pre- 
 ternatural sensitiveness of nerve is shown in many 
 cases by particular sensitiveness to sound, which 
 m^ny geniuses have shown. The possession of 
 genius carries with it a special liability to the action 
 of disintegrating forces, which environ us, and 
 involves a state of delicate equipoise in the psycho- 
 physical organization," so says James Sully. It is 
 even said that the signs of degeneration are found 
 more frequently in men of genius than even in the 
 insane, just as giants pay a heavy ransom for their 
 stature, in sterility and relative muscular and mental 
 weakness. 
 
 It is pertinent to our study to remark that men 
 of genius have, in a surprising number of cases, 
 been effected by forms of nervous disease, some of 
 w^hich have been manifested by physical accompani- 
 ments, such as occur in states of insanity, which 
 allies it thereto. W^e will study a little more closely 
 a couple of these diseases. 
 
 The first is Chorea, or St. Vitus' dance. Many 
 men of genius, like the insane, are subject to curious 
 spasmodic movements. Leneau and Montsquesieu 
 left upon the floor of their rooms the signs of the 
 movements by which their feet were convulsively 
 agitated during composition. Quite a number of 
 
or 
 
 KINSHIP OF GBNIUS AND INSANITY 113 
 
 other geniuses exhibited the most remarkable facial 
 contortions. There was a constant quiver on 
 Thomas Campbell's thin lips. Another was long 
 subject to convulsive movements of the arms. 
 Napoleon suffered from habitual spasm of the right 
 shoulder and of the lips. Carducis' face— that is, 
 the celebrated painter's — at certain moments was a 
 veritable hurricane — lightnings darted from his 
 eyes and his muscles trembled. Ampere, the great 
 electrician, could only express his thoughts while 
 walking, and when his body was in a state of con- 
 stant movement. These things indicate a choreic 
 disease. 
 
 Among the earliest symptoms of this disease are 
 those referable to brain disorder. The character 
 and disposition of the patient undergo a marked 
 change, and there is beside, from first to last, a very 
 decided impairment of mental vigor. The emotions 
 are easily excited, and the temper becomes fretful 
 and variable, showing that the mind is effected more 
 or less. In a few cases, there is decided mania, but 
 it is generally of temporary duration; yet, where 
 the physical symptoms persist, although limited, the 
 question is whether they may not distort the mind. 
 
 'T believe," says Maudsley, "without choreic dis- 
 order of movements, there is a true choreic mania. 
 It is an acute delirium of ideas, which is the counter- 
 part of the usual delirium of movements — a mental 
 chorea instead of a physical one. 
 
 The second condition referred to is Epilepsy, or 
 Falling Sickness. There is one thing about Epi- 
 lepsy in which almost all are agreed, however great 
 the difference of physicians as to its nature; and 
 that one thing is, that even slight manifestations of 
 the disease impair the mind, especially its moral pow- 
 ers, producing insanity in the end ; hence the import- 
 ance of this disease in the study of our subject. The 
 epileptic disease does not get avcII on the occurrence 
 
lU KIXSIIIP OF GHXIUb AXD INSANITY 
 
 of insanity, but both grow worse together; hence we 
 know that insane people do liave epilepsy. 
 
 We know, further, that numbers of men of 
 genius have had such attacks. There was Julius 
 Oesar, for instance. Twice upon the field of battle 
 the Epileptic Vertigo nearly had a serious influence 
 on Cresar's fate. Epileptic convulsions sometimes 
 hindered Molier from doing any kind of work for a 
 fortnight. Mahomet had visions after an epileptic 
 fit. Xewton and Swift were subject "to Vertigo, 
 which is related to Epilepsy. 
 
 Genuine Epilepsy, we know, in almost all cases, 
 impairs the mind, but there are almost latent and 
 irregular forms, which effect it also. There may 
 be but few physical signs of the disease, which are 
 all the more important on that account, such as was 
 the case with Petrach, Peter the Great, Handel, 
 Richileu, Charles V., Dostoieffsky, and others. 
 
 It may require close observation to detect the 
 true nature of these cases, and yet it is highly import- 
 ant to do so, because these slight and irregular mani- 
 festations of Epilepsy have a more injurious effect 
 upon the mind than pronounced paroxysms have. 
 
 This is the universal testimony of medical writ- 
 ers. It must be the pathological condition that gives 
 rise to the loss of consciousness which characterizes 
 these cases, for their distinctive feature is the 
 momentary loss of consciousness many times daily, 
 for some days together. It is the pathological con- 
 dition which has the effect of producing mental 
 impairment ; it surely could not be the momentary* 
 loss of consciousness itself, for nowadays the 
 superiority of the subconscious state is frequently 
 claimed, and greatly exaggerated. 
 
 Consciousness may interfere, by distraction, with 
 mental concentration, just as vision may; but as far 
 as the superiority of the sub-conscious state is con- 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 115 
 
 cerned, we cannot see it any more than the superior- 
 ity of bhndness. 
 
 The mention of the above observations may seem 
 strange in this connection to persons unacquainted 
 with the way in which the region of Epilepsy has 
 been extended in modern times, so that many cases 
 of headache, or simple loss of memory, are now 
 recognized as forms of Epilepsy in disguise. 
 
 If Epilepsy were the very limited disease it is 
 commonly supposed to be, there would be no excuse 
 for this long dissertation upon the subject. But it 
 is not; it is wide-spread, impressing itself upon 
 other forms of nervous disease. The children of a 
 parent subject to attacks of severe Neuralgia of the. 
 head, for instance, are liable to attacks of Epilepsy 
 or Insanity, showing that the off-spring of per- 
 sons who have suffered from one nervous disease 
 frequently inherit a liability to the attack of some 
 other nervous disease than that which has given 
 them their neurotic heritage. It may be Chorea, 
 Dipsomania, Neuralgia, Epilepsy, or Insanity. 
 
 And then, again, instances occasionally present 
 themselves in which the disorder is transferred sud- 
 denly from one set of nerve centers, the old symp- 
 toms ceasing, and quite a new order of symptoms 
 supervening. Thus a severe Neuralgia disappears 
 and the patient is attacked with some form of mad- 
 ness, the morbid conditions of perverted function 
 having been transferred from the sensory centers to 
 the mind centers. When the madness has passed 
 away, the Neuralgia may return. 
 
 Again, convulsions cease and insanity occurs, 
 the transference being from the motor centers to the 
 mind centers, showing that nervous diseases are 
 interchangeable among themselves. I refer to this 
 fact because it renders the obscurity of Epilepsy all 
 the more obscure. 
 
 I lay great stress upon Epilepsy, as most medical 
 
116 KINSHIP OF GliXIUS AND INSANITY 
 
 men do, because nothing is more certain to impair 
 the mind, and where the symptoms sliow its nature, 
 we expect mental impairment; not only so, but the 
 frequent occurrence of 'Epilepsy in men of genius 
 suggests the hypothesis of the Epileptic nature of 
 genius itself, which is a very important suggestion. 
 This is the especial reason why I dwell so long on 
 this repulsive disease. 
 
 In this connection, it is important to note that 
 there are cases of Epilepsy in which external convul- 
 sions rarely appear. There is such a thing as Mental 
 Epilepsy, wdiere the attacks effect the mind alone, 
 without external paroxysms, or where the mental 
 attacks alternate with convulsive paroxysms. 
 
 The confession of men themselves, such men as 
 Mahomet, Goncourt, Buffon, and others, ought to 
 mean much, as the known effect of Epilepsy on the 
 mind cause almost all, to conceal the disease, "'^lv 
 nerves are irritable," said Napoleon, and he was not 
 seldom seen to shed tears under strong emotion. 
 He used to claim that a battle could be won in an 
 instant — that is, by an instantaneous flash of 
 thought, which assimilates the incident to the 
 m.stantaneousness of an epileptic attack. Taine said 
 of him : ''All his sayings are fire-flashes. Never 
 was there a more impatient sensibility. He threw 
 garments that did not fit him into the fire. His treat- 
 ment of his brothers and w^ife showed his want of 
 the moral sense. He was morally insane." 
 
 Complete absence of moral sense and sympathy 
 is frequently found among men of this class. 
 
 One of the greatest geniuses America has ever 
 produced was Edgar Allen Poe, yet he was a dipso- 
 maniac from youth throughout life. Dipsomania is 
 regarded as a form of insanity, and from its period- 
 icity, its uncontrollableness and the profound change 
 of moral character, with which it is accompanied ; 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 117 
 
 from these symptoms, it appears nearly allied to 
 tlpilepsy. 
 
 A fact which shows a close alliance of genius to 
 Epilepsy is that it is the same form of insanity, viz : 
 moral insanity, that so frequently shows itself in 
 both. We have already spoken of the moral insanity 
 of men of genius. Epileptics may become for the 
 time liars, thieves, suspicious, discontented and irri- 
 table, and on the slightest pretext yield to sudden 
 outbreaks of violence. 
 
 There are many other points which show the 
 analogy of genius and Epilepsy which I have not 
 dwelt upon, such as the instantaneousness of the 
 inspiration of the men of genius ; its effects upon the 
 body, as prostration with a weak pulse ; its involun- 
 tary character, its unconsciousness, its intermitency 
 and the forgetfulness which attends it, etc. These 
 things all show a close resemblance and relationship 
 of genius to Epilepsy. 
 
 Speaking of forgetfulness as a sign of mental 
 deterioration reminds us that Lombroso, a man to 
 whom I owe much in the preparation of this paper, 
 suffered from that misfortune (whether from 
 genius. Epilepsy, or what not), for the reason that a 
 passage was no sooner written than forgotten. We 
 vvould say, from his checkered life and want of 
 mental equipoise, that Lombroso was himself a 
 genius, and late developments show him to have 
 been a decidedly cranky one at that. 
 
 Some may object to this paper because it contains 
 so much pathology; whereas man's well-being- 
 requires that he not only know much of his healthy 
 self, but of the morbid conditions to which he is 
 liable, and also of the effects of the latter upon his 
 mind. Hence I will cite one other case, though not 
 of an epileptic nature, to show the effect of a bodily 
 state upon the intellect in the way of rendering it 
 more acute. A physician in charge of a certain 
 
118 KlXSIIir OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 
 
 asylum in L^rance related the history of a certain 
 patient as follows : 
 
 "During his malady, he had shown a remarkable 
 talent for writing, though when in good health he 
 would have been quite incapable of doing as much. 
 '1 am not quite cured,' he said to the physician, who 
 thought him convalescent. 'I am still too clever for 
 that. \Mien I am well, I take a wxek to write a 
 letter. In my natural condition, I am stupid. Wait 
 until I become so again before you discharge me.' " 
 
 In conclusion, I will say that it is in the nervous 
 temperament — the temperament of the intellectual — 
 that nervous disorders, such as Genius, Epilepsy and 
 Insanity, closely allied conditions, are most liable to 
 occur. I place Epilepsy between the others as it is 
 a common originator of both, hence the frequency 
 of genius among" lunatics and of madness among 
 men of genius. '^Although there are many well- 
 balanced men of this temperament, whose mental 
 labors only serve to keep them in just poise, it should 
 not be forgotten that the frequency of Epileptic 
 symptoms in genius shoivs that genius is a degen- 
 erative mental disease of the Epileptic group," so 
 says Lombroso, although it must be confessed that 
 he attached greater importance to Epilepsy in the 
 production of genius than is generally admitted by 
 others. The symptoms of Epilepsy may be long 
 over-looked; the major paroxysms occurring at 
 night only, those which occur in the daytime being 
 slight or irregular, so that moral perversity may be 
 our only clew. But generally many of the symptoms 
 of genius indicate an irritable and unstable condi- 
 tion of the brain, which borders on, if it does not 
 amount to disease, for the greater and more com- 
 plex, the energy displayed, the greater the molecular 
 activity of the brain-cells, and the greater this activ- 
 ity, the greater the cell decomposition, and the 
 greater the liability to mental disorder. 
 
KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 119 
 
 If genius means the faculty of receiving inspira- 
 tion, or rushes of ideas from apparently supernatural 
 sources, it is dangerously nearly to that aptitude for 
 hearing voices possessed by the insane. It cannot, in 
 such cases, be a healthy faculty. On the other hand, 
 if genius means uncommon power of intellect, v^e 
 ought to be suspicious when it appears, for the old 
 saying is, "It takes brains to go mad," because it 
 has long been well known that great intellect is very 
 rarely associated with a well-balanced, emotional 
 nature. Good common sense travels on the well- 
 worn paths; genius never; because the man of 
 genius is essentially original, a lover of originality, 
 and is the natural enemy of tradition and conserva- 
 tism. We ought, therefore, to congratulate our- 
 selves if we are not included in the class commonly 
 known as geniuses, however desirable this high- 
 sounding title may seem. 
 
Evolution 
 
 The word evolution, now generally applied to 
 worldly processes, meaning all visible things, taken 
 in its popular signification, means progressive 
 development — that is, gradual change from a condi- 
 tion of relative uniformity to one of relative com- 
 plexity. As a natural process, of the same character 
 as the development of a tree from its seed, or of a 
 fowl from the egg. 
 
 The theory of evolution has been opposed by 
 many, simply on the ground that it leads to atheism 
 I do not think it necessarily does. 
 
 It is very desirable to remember that evolution 
 is not an explanation of the worldly process, but 
 merely a generalized statement of the method and 
 results of that process. 
 
 If the worldly process was set going by any 
 agent, then that agent is the creator of it, although 
 supernatural intervension may remain strictly 
 excluded from its further course. 
 
 Evolution assumes the existence of matter. It 
 assumes that the visible universe, all the heavenly 
 bodies, the sun, earth, and all the planets and stars 
 existed as finely divided matter or mist. This is the 
 nebular theory; a theory advanced by Emmanuel 
 Kant, a German philosopher, over one hundred and 
 fifty years ago. The same theory was advocated by 
 Laplace, a French mathematician; also by Sir Wil- 
 liam Herschel, of England, a practical observer of 
 the heavens with the telescope. Be it remembered 
 
 120 
 
EVOLUTION 121 
 
 that these men arrived at the same result, independ- 
 ently and ignorant of each other's efforts. 
 
 This theory accounts for a great host of facts, 
 and stands the test of investigation. Yet it presup- 
 poses the existence of very important facts. We 
 have already mentioned the existence of matter. 
 There are certain qualities inherent in matter, or 
 nebular mist, that it does not account for. 
 
 For instance, it assumes that the particles of 
 matter exert an attractive influence over each other. 
 Whence came this attraction by which the particles 
 are brought together into a body, and how is it that 
 they adhere after they come together? Whence 
 came the unrest we find in these nebulous particles, 
 for they exist today, as our observations prove? 
 
 Take, for instance, the great nebula in the direc- 
 tion of the constellation of stars known as Orien, 
 which is a million times as large as the orbit of the 
 remotest planet known in the solar system. Why 
 the disquiet of its particles? Why their agitation, 
 their motion? And why is it, after they come 
 together, they still move on an axis, and also around 
 a common center ? We must answer these questions 
 before we can ignore the existence of a creator. 
 
 And then there is the further question, why 
 is it all plants and animals on earth exhibit the 
 tendency to vary? It is the tendency of the condi- 
 tions of life, at any given time, while favoring the 
 existence of variations best adapted to them, to 
 oppose that of the rest, and thus exercise selection. 
 Without the first tendency, there could be no evolu- 
 tion; without the second, there would be no selec- 
 tion or survival of the fittest, or struggle for exist- 
 ence. 
 
 CREATION 
 
 There are many who adhere to a literal transla- 
 tion of the creation of the earth and man, and all 
 animals and plants, as given in Genesis — that they 
 
122 EVOLUTION 
 
 were created in six days. Many others, including 
 nearly all scientists and very many theologians, 
 advocate a more liberal translation of this account, 
 claiming that the rocky pages of the earth are a more 
 reliable record than any paper pages of writings any- 
 where to be found; claiming that the word begin- 
 ning is too indefinite, and that the days mentioned 
 are periods, and that creation was not completed, 
 but is going on still. That it is no disparagement to 
 the Diety to say that he did confer on organized 
 matter the ability to modify itself to suit sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 That climate and food and the struggle for life 
 exert these modifying influences; that the struggle 
 for existence may call out and develop a new limb 
 or alter an old one, lengthen or shorten an old one, 
 or variously modify the whole organism, and that 
 these modifications may go on until practically a 
 new creature is the result. This class of philosophers 
 claim that such a view is more to the credit of the 
 Diety than is the necessity for Him to create a new 
 creature whenever altered conditions call for it. 
 
 Taking into consideration all the species that 
 now exists and those that have become extinct, ten 
 millions or more acts of special creation would have 
 been necessary. The ability to confer on one pri- 
 meval form or a few forms, life, with the power to 
 undergo modifications to suit the exigencies of life, 
 redowns to his glory. This is the view taken by the 
 most advanced scientist, and is called evolution. 
 
 Passing over such noted pioneers in this field of 
 thought as Darwin, Wallace and Huxley, we come 
 to Herbert Spencer, whom we cannot afford to pass 
 lightly by, for Herbert Spencer was one of the great- 
 est of them all. He was articled in his seventeenth 
 year to a railway engineer, and followed that profes- 
 sion until he was twenty-five. During this period he 
 wrote several papers on various subjects. In 1850 he 
 
EVOLUTION 123 
 
 gave up engineering and went on the staff of the 
 Economist, and pubhshed a paper in which may be 
 seen the first step toward the general doctrine of 
 evolution. In this paper he showed that society 
 developed along this line. 
 
 The thought of human interest pervades his 
 writings from this time forth. Social and ethical 
 questions are kept in the van throughout, as much 
 as to say, 'T am a man, and nothing human is for- 
 eign to me." And yet he finds fault with Darwin's 
 theory, on the ground that it deals only with the 
 evolution of plants and animals from a common 
 ancestry, thereby forming a very small part of the 
 general theory of the origin of the earth and other 
 bodies. Spencer was a thoroughgoing evolutionist, 
 from the nebular hypothesis of Kant on through 
 organic creatures to man, believing that evolution 
 influenced his conduct and morals and legislation of 
 social aggregates. 
 
 He claimed that we can show that the process of 
 modification has effected and is effecting decided 
 changes in all organism subject to modifying influ- 
 ences; one of the great points in the doctrine on 
 which Darwin laid stress. ''Evolution can show," 
 says he, ''that in successive generations these changes 
 continue. They can show that in cultivated plants, 
 domesticated animals, and in several races of men, 
 such alterations have taken place. They can show 
 that the degrees of difference so introduced are often, 
 as in dogs, greater than those on which distinctions 
 of species are in other cases founded. And thus they 
 can show that throughout all organic nature there 
 is at work a modifying influence, though slow in its 
 action, which would produce in millions of years 
 any amount of change." 
 
 Let us take the evolution of an animal familiar 
 to us all — the horse, for instance, and particularly 
 the development of his foot. This evolution we 
 
124 liVOLUriON 
 
 can trace, in his fossil remains, through various 
 ages of the earth. These fossil remains were traced 
 by Professor jMarsh, of Yale college, on Green river, 
 in Wyoming. As found in the earliest known line 
 of descent of the horse family, he had three toes on 
 the hind foot and four perfect, serviceable toes on 
 the fore- foot; but in addition to the fore- foot, an 
 imperfect fifth, or splint, and possibly a correspond- 
 ing rudimentary fifth toe, or thumb, like a dew-claw. 
 Also, the two bones of the leg and fore-arm were 
 yet entirely distinct. This animal was no larger than 
 a fox. Next came an animal of similar size and 
 structure, except that the rudimentary thumb, or 
 dew-claw, is dropped, leaving only four toes on the 
 fore-foot. Next came an animal in which the fourth 
 toe has become a rudimentary and useless splint. 
 Next came one more horse-like than the preceeding. 
 The rudimentary fourth splint is now almost gone, 
 and the middle hoof has become larger; neverthe- 
 less the two side hoofs are still serviceable. The 
 two bones of the leg have also become united, though 
 still quite distinct. This animal was about the size 
 of a sheep. Next came an animal still more horse- 
 like than the preceeding, both in structure and size. 
 Every rudiment of the fourth splint is now gone, 
 the middle hoof has become still larger, and the two 
 sidehoofs smaller and shorter, and no longer serv- 
 iceable, except in marshy ground. It was about the 
 size of a small mule. Next came almost the com- 
 plete horse. The hoofs are reduced to one. Last 
 comes in the modern horse. The hoof has become 
 rounder, the splint bones shorter, and the evolu- 
 tionary change is complete. There can be no doubt 
 that, if we could trace the line of descent still further 
 back, we would find a perfect five-toed ancestor. 
 
 In a similar way has been traced the line of 
 descent of the modern camel and the modern deer, 
 and otlier animals. These things, when taken in 
 
EVOLUTION 125 
 
 connection with increasing size of the brain, and, 
 therefore, presumably with increasing brain power, 
 shows a gradual improvement of structure adapted 
 for speed and activity, and increase of nervous and 
 muscular energy necessary to work the improved 
 structure. 
 
 The history of the earth shows that certain ani- 
 mals have died out and are no longer represented 
 by living creatures, but that new ones have taken 
 their places. Did this necessitate a new act of crea- 
 tion of the Diety? This idea was repulsive to the 
 pioneers of evolution, who claim that old forms 
 have been so acted on by changed conditions of cli- 
 mate, the necessities of life, such as change of food 
 and surroundings, as to so modify them that in 
 course of time they become new creatures. 
 
 Evolutionists claim that life commenced in a 
 low form, such as a mass of jelly, and that it con- 
 tinued, under modification-s and the new forms, 
 become permanent without the intervention of a 
 supernatural being. Now, if we once admit the 
 modification of physical structure and the perma- 
 nency of the modifications, and the transmission of 
 them by inheritance, we admit what evolutionists 
 claim, and open the door to the peopling of the 
 earth with myriads of creatures of vastly different 
 forms and modes of life. 
 
 How about the evolution of mind? There are 
 manifestations of mind in the lower animals, still 
 more so in the lowest savages, becoming more and 
 more evolved as civilization increases. Mind in- 
 creases as life becomes more complex, showing that 
 the adjustment of life to suit its surroundings calls 
 forth mental effort and increase of mental activity; 
 and we know that the evolved state of the mind is 
 transmitted by inheritance from the fact that the 
 children of the cultured are far in advance in the 
 way of intelligence of those of the barbarous. And 
 
126 uroLurioN 
 
 we know, further, that there is great difference 
 between the mind of one who can scarcely count 
 beyond his lingers and the mind of the astronomer 
 who can correctly calculate an eclipse of the sun 
 10,000 years hence, showing at least the effect of 
 individual evolution. 
 
 THE MORAL FACULTIES 
 
 Many of the most advanced thinkers claim that 
 our moral powers are entirely evolved, including in 
 that word the inheritance of powers that were 
 evolved by ancestors. We see the rudiments of a 
 conscience in the lower animals, such as manifesta- 
 tions of shame or guilt. We do not see that it 
 makes any difference whether or not we receive the 
 rudiments of a conscience directly from the Diety 
 or the ability to acquire them by experience, so long 
 as w^e acquire them. We know there is great differ- 
 ence between the conscience of the savage and the 
 civilized man, w'hich shows that it does undergo 
 great individual evolution, but no amount of argu- 
 ment would convince such men as Huxley, Herbert 
 Spencer and Maudsley that ethics did not take origin 
 entirely in evolution. Suppose they did; that does 
 not disprove the existence of Diety, for if the soil 
 were not favorable — that is, God-like, — the moral 
 faculties would not evolve. 
 
The Value of Moral Charader 
 
 If it could be proven that this Hfe is all there is, 
 and that there is no hereafter, in which goodness 
 could be rewarded or badness punished, this would 
 not take away the value of virtue or the evil of vice. 
 We are treading upon delicate ground when we talk 
 of such things apart from a hereafter. But apart 
 from a hereafter no selfishness would enter into our 
 motives. We would not be good because we 
 expected to be rewarded for our goodness, but 
 because it is right that we should be, because it is 
 our duty to be so, without any reference to reward. 
 It is a question whether the hope of reward does not 
 detract from the pureness of our motives. 
 
 Again, if it could be proven that there is no God 
 to reward or punish us, that would not relieve us 
 from the duty of being good. We ought to be good 
 because it is right that we should, without reference 
 to the will of a supreme being, and without reference 
 to the fact that, if we are not, we are liable to be 
 punished. Yet the nature of things is such that good- 
 ness is to our advantage. Whether we have a sep- 
 arate faculty called conscience, or whether a sense 
 of right and wrong be a growth in the human mind, 
 still in civilized human races it is there, and the feel- 
 ing that arises when we see an act of cruelty prac- 
 ticed upon a weakly and helpless creature is very 
 different from that which arises when we see an 
 act of kindness practiced upon the same creature. 
 
 Anyway, you will have to do something more 
 than get rid of a belief in a future state, and some- 
 
 127 
 
128 I'ALUE OF MORAL CHARACTER 
 
 thing more than get rid of a behef in a God, in order 
 to get rid of the obhgation to be good. The obHga- 
 tion to be good seems to rise up out of the nature 
 of things, regardless of what we beheve. This is for- 
 tunate, since there are thousands of behefs and 
 unbehefs in the world, and none of them relieve us 
 from the obligation to practice virtue, or from the 
 punishment our moral nature inflicts upon the prac- 
 tice of vice. 
 
 What lends importance to the sense of wrong- 
 doing is the power of memory. It is not only the 
 punishment that wrong-doing inflicts at present, but 
 it is the continual remembrance of it as long as the 
 mind lasts, and not only so, but the sense of wrong- 
 doing may accumulate, that is, it may intensify by 
 reflection or brooding over it. If the wrong is very 
 great, like Banko's ghost, it will not down. 
 
 Whatever makes a deep impression upon the 
 mind is much more likely to be long retained. And 
 some have thought that remorse is the worm that 
 dieth not. 
 
 One of the advantages of a moral life is that, 
 as you grow older, you will live more and more in 
 the past. If the life has been an upright one, the 
 reminiscences will bring up pleasure ; if vicious, they 
 will bring unhappiness. What rest can a murderer 
 have from his ill deed? The man who has wasted 
 his powers in intemperance can have but little com- 
 fort in casting over his misspent energies. Whereas 
 the well-intentioned one may reflect w^ith pleasure 
 upon a life devoted to good purposes . 
 
 Another advantage of a good life arrives from 
 the power of habit. The performance of an act, 
 whether good or bad, is easier a second time than 
 the first, and continues to become easier with each 
 repetition until no effort attends it. If bad, the 
 power of resistence becomes w^eakened with each 
 repetition until they amount to nothing. A second 
 
VALUB OF MORAL CHARACTER 129 
 
 nature is acquired, so that at first what required 
 effort now requires none. It becomes automatic and 
 unconscious. The advantage of a good moral char- 
 acter is that w^e act in harmony with it when we are 
 not aware of it. This is the advantage of voluntary 
 directing our thoughts and actions in the ways of 
 right living when we are young. For our minds, 
 and even our bodies, in their minute nutrition, 
 become moulded in such habits so that it is easier 
 to do right than wrong; to do wrong becomes a 
 wrench or violence to our natures. A good man 
 may do wrong, but generally, if it is a great wrong, 
 it is because his mind, by long operation of adverse 
 events, has become unhinged and unsound. 
 
 Another advantage of well-doing, it gives us 
 standing in the community in which we live. We 
 all need the confidence of our associates, and there 
 may be times when we may need it sorely, and then 
 again there are many little ofiices of kindness which 
 cost the giver little or nothing which will be of 
 benefit to us. Charity associations and mutual 
 benefit societies are based upon this principle and 
 require an applicant to prove good moral character. 
 Even life insurance associations attach great import- 
 ance to the same thing, even as a financial precau- 
 tion. Large employers are beginning to look largely 
 into the moral habits of laborers, rejecting esp'^cially 
 the intemperate. 
 
 There is a beauty about a well-proportioned char- 
 acter, a good, all-around man. He may not be bril- 
 liant in any one respect, but there is a harmony 
 about him that is pleasing. You never see him make 
 a bad break in any particular. All the affections of 
 his mind are under apparently good control. 
 Patience is well developed, so that if things are 
 against him for a time, he has faith that a turn in 
 his affairs will occur, and that things will come out 
 all right. 
 
130 I'ALUU Of MORAL CHARACTER 
 
 On the other hand, "vice is a monster of so 
 frightful mien to he hated needs hut to 1^ seen." 
 
 As it eats away the supports of character, and 
 therehy weakens it, it is an ol^ject of repulsion to a 
 virtuous man. Slowly, hut surely, it undermines 
 the power of self-control, until he that would do 
 good finds that evil is present with him. 
 
Formation and Effeds of Charader 
 
 As personal character is the only thing in this 
 world that amounts to anything, it is well worth 
 while to give it a little study. I shall confine the 
 word character to imply alone the effects of our 
 experiences upon ourselves. In doing this, I shall 
 first call your attention to the effects of mental action 
 upon the body. This we may do in the study of 
 memory. It is a question whether an impression or 
 modification once wrought, deeply, in the brain ever 
 entirely fades away. It may be forgotten for a long 
 time, but is it beyond the power of recall ? 
 
 A very interesting case is recorded of an old 
 ignorant servant woman who, in an attack of fever, 
 repeated verses in the dead languages. Her young 
 physician determined to ferit out the matter. He 
 found that when she was young she had been a 
 servant in the family of a clergyman, who was in 
 the habit of walking his hall repeating aloud or read- 
 ing verses in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. These 
 verses became impressed on her mind and lay dor- 
 mant for a long time. But when she became sick, 
 the peculiar state of the blood, incident to the fever, 
 revived them. After recovery she was again ignor- 
 ant of them. In this case, doubtless, what we may 
 call association memory played the important part; 
 that is, one word brought on the next, by reason of 
 the fact that they had been thus associated in her 
 mind. These threads of association is the part that 
 the mind itself engenders, and we may look upon 
 them as a material change in the brain itself. 
 
 131 
 
132 CHARACTISR: PORMA TION— EFFECTS 
 
 But these are only threads of association that 
 the mind forms which we have spoken of ; but there 
 must be things that are thus associated. These are 
 the separate original impressions or modifications. 
 These, too, we claim, exert a material effect upon the 
 brain. There is one peculiarity about them, and that 
 is they require time to exert their full influence, so 
 that they will be well remembered. If our thoughts 
 are interrupted by a startling occurrence, as we know 
 by experience, wx are likely to forget what we are 
 thinking about. Or in cases of head injury, it is a 
 matter of record that the memory not only fails for 
 subsequent events, but that for preceeding ones, for 
 a day or so, have been forgotten. Which seems to 
 show^ that impressions had not had time to work 
 their full material effects upon the brain — the ink, 
 as it were, is wiped off before the page has had time 
 to dry. 
 
 In what this material change consists, we do not 
 know; whether it is some rearrangement of the 
 particles of the brain matter, or some alteration of 
 their affinities, we can only conjecture. We have 
 reason to believe that it is a change induced through 
 nutrition ; induced by the impression or idea itself. 
 Wlierever there is action, there is flux of blood, and 
 w'herever there is repeated flux of blood, there is 
 altered nutrition. Nutrition may be depended upon 
 to faithfully reproduce any changes that have been 
 effected. Of this we have an example in the repro- 
 duction of a scar in the skin, which is faithfully per- 
 petuated through life, although the particles of the 
 body are repeatedly changed. 
 
 The changes or modifications of the brain sub- 
 stance are too small to be detected by the microscope, 
 and yet they may notably effect the character and 
 make themselves manifest in the countenance. 
 
 There are those who believe that the thoughts 
 and actions become so impressed upon the counte- 
 
CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 133 
 
 nance and bearing of the individual that they can 
 divine one's employment by them. It is related of 
 a certain man that on one occasion he went into a 
 room where there were a few men and made the 
 remark that he could tell a man's employment by his 
 outward appearance; whereupon a certain one of 
 them challenged him to make good his statement as 
 far as he was concerned. He looked him over and 
 said : "You are either a Methodist preacher or a 
 horse-trader." It turned out that he was both. 
 
 The expression of the face is due largely to one's 
 life and thought. A life of intellectual labor makes 
 itself manifest in the wrinkles and otherwise in the 
 features; and a life of mental indolence leaves the 
 face a blank. It is evident that goodness shines 
 through amiable features, and that bulliness produces 
 a brutal physiognomy, and that honesty is evinced 
 by an open countenance, and meanness by a con- 
 tracted one. 
 
 Even one's nationality may be recognized in the 
 countenance, which means that the scenery and other 
 environments of youth, and other national char- 
 acteristics, may impress themselves upon and lie 
 reflected in the features. 
 
 If any of the above statements are true, even in 
 a slight degree, it makes good our position, that our 
 minds do modify our bodies. These things being 
 true, it is not difficult to understand how character 
 may be transmitted by inheritance; whereas, if the 
 mind alone is affected, it is not so easy to see. 
 
 The material changes of w^hich we have spoken, 
 and which we have invoked to explain the retentive 
 power of memory, and which w^e will use to explain 
 other things, should cut no figure in our religious 
 beliefs. For while it shows a more intimate rela- 
 tion of mind and body in this life than is generally 
 recognized, it signifies nothing as to what may be 
 their relation in another life. 
 
 10- 
 
134 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 
 
 Tliere is a peculiarity in the nervous system, 
 which aids in the formation of character or in the 
 production of the force of habit, which is much the 
 same, and that is, when an impression enters a nerve 
 center and departs as an impulse or idea, it leaves 
 behind an effect which has a tendency and facility 
 to repeat the process; that is, to react again in the 
 same way. On this account a similar impression is 
 more likely to take the same course in the brain than 
 any other, or than it is to open up a new path. It is 
 a path of least resistance. In course of time the 
 brain becomes filled with these paths or lines of least 
 resistance. It is not improper to speak of the adult 
 brain as made of these paths. The main point in the 
 matter is that it is easier for an impression, or sensa- 
 tion, or wave of nervous influence, to travel a second 
 time along one hi these lines than at first, and 
 becomes easier with each repetition ; and herein lies 
 the power of habit. These lines are kept in existence 
 by some kind of nutritive change in their course by 
 the influence of the nervous wave itself. 
 
 Illustrative of the effect of habit, it is related of 
 an old soldier, that one who knew the fact, on one 
 occasion sharply exclaimed, "Attention!" when the 
 soldier suddenly dropped his hands to his sides, 
 letting his dinner — his bread and potatoes — fall in 
 the dirt. The fact is, the theory of drilling soldiers, 
 or training in any particular, is based on the known 
 force of habit. One point not to be lost sight of 
 is that the basis of this power is not in the mind only, 
 but in the brain itself, and in the nerves and muscles 
 of the body. The fingers of the musician, as well 
 as his mind, become altered by the everlasting train- 
 ing he has to go through. 
 
 If in practical life the youth sets forth with vir- 
 tuous considerations, the way becomes easier and 
 easier all through. If under vicious considerations, 
 it is just the reverse. If temptations are yielded to. 
 
CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFBCTS 135 
 
 the power of resistance becomes weakened and grows 
 less and less with each yielding; whereas, if they are 
 resisted, the power of resistance becomes greater 
 and greater. 
 
 It is said that a Greek sage, when asked why he 
 had punished his son so severely for so trivial an 
 offense, replied : "And do you regard habit as 
 trivial?" The important thing in a single act is 
 that it tends to form a habit, from which similar 
 acts afterwards result. The trivial act of the boy 
 would have damaged the boy himself. Having 
 stolen once, he would have become an habitual thief. 
 The first trivial transgression was the first step in 
 that direction. No one ever told his first lie intend- 
 ing to become a liar, no drunkard ever began as a 
 drunkard. 
 
 It is a comfort to see a man who has so long 
 practiced the ways of right living that he has become 
 confirmed therein by the power of habit, so that there 
 is but little danger of his relapsing from such a state, 
 because his body, as well as his soul, has been modi- 
 fied by such habits. 
 
 Granting that it is true, that material changes 
 are wrought in our bodies, what effect would they 
 have upon our characters? It would seem, if the 
 body is modified by our experiences, that our brains 
 and whole body grows to our habits of thought, feel- 
 ing and action, that our bodies would be a part of 
 our characters, and that it would give stability to 
 them. It may be a novel thought that our bodies 
 are a part of our characters, but such seems to be the 
 inevitable conclusion. 
 
 Our characters are made up of our life experi- 
 ences, and are not the work of a day, and cannot be 
 changed in a day. The good man does well largely 
 because he has been in the habit of doing well, and 
 the bad man acts badly because it is in accordance 
 with his second nature. For him to do differently, 
 
130 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 
 
 and continue to do so, a great deal has to be undone, 
 and a different order of things has to be built up. 
 His body has to undergo a change. "Can the 
 Etheopian change his skin, or the Leopard his spots? 
 Then may ye also do good that are accustomed to 
 do evil?" The only trouble with this passage is it 
 does not go deep enough. The color of the skin 
 and of the spots on it are only skin deep, whereas 
 the habits of man are so interwoven into his being 
 that they are largely the man himself. 
 
 It is sad to encounter those who are morally 
 defective. There are moral imbeciles — persons lack- 
 ing in the moral sense. They are generally such by 
 inheritance, although great moral perversity may be 
 developed by bad practices. 
 
 I will cite an example of moral perversity : A 
 gentleman of France has been passing the summer 
 at his country house with his daughter, aged twenty- 
 two, and his son, aged twenty. From the moment 
 of his arrival devastations occurred everywhere on 
 his property. The shrubs were cut, garden plants 
 and large branches of the birch trees removed, the 
 doors and walls of the house were soiled. The 
 grounds and dwellings of other persons in the neigh- 
 borhood were similarly treated. Windows were 
 broken, the walls and doors of the church, the 
 priest's house, and even the altar, were soiled. 
 Obscene letters containing threats of death were 
 received by the priest and others. Terror overspread 
 the parish, and no one dare go out by night. At 
 last the son and daughter were discovered in their 
 acts. The boy confessed his part. The girl denied 
 everything, going so far as to send insulting letters 
 to the magistrate. 
 
 One benefit of these material changes is that they 
 render actions and thoughts which were difficult at 
 first so easy that their performance is not even 
 attended with knowledge upon our part. Take walk- 
 
CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 137 
 
 ing, for instance. It is with greatest difficulty that 
 a child learns to balance itself and proceed by steps. 
 After it is learned, we walk without noticing what 
 we are doing; our attention is rarely called to the 
 fact that we are walking. The same is true of other 
 acts. It is related of a musician who frequently had 
 attacks of Epilepsy, which were not attended by fall- 
 ing, but were attended by loss of consciousness, that 
 he, nevertheless, w^ould play on in the orchestra with 
 perfect correctness, although unconscious. 
 
 Among adults you will find one, although speak- 
 ing the truth would answer every purpose, neverthe- 
 less lies because he is so in the habit of lying that 
 it is more natural than to speak the truth. Such per- 
 verted characters are to be pitied. The same is true 
 of dishonesty — it may become more in keeping with 
 one's nature than honesty. 
 
 Take again the injury to character by gossip, 
 which may commence in a small way, but grows into 
 outrageous proportions without thought or con- 
 sciousness of the enormity of the injury inflicted. 
 
 This process of unconscious action extends to 
 purely intellectual operations. We endeavor to 
 remember a name and fail, wx make special efforts 
 but still fail ; we dismiss, as we suppose, the matter 
 from our minds ; but it seems that the brain works 
 away at it until, suddenly, it appears all right. 
 
 When a boy, I remember I had a problem in 
 mathematics I could not solve. I worked at it a 
 couple of days and gave it up. In a day or so. It 
 appeared to my mind divested of all difficulties. 
 
 This shows that our knowledge of the process 
 of thinking is not necessary to render it efficient; 
 that our thinking may be just as logical when we 
 are not paying attention to it. The mind is ever 
 active, except wdien we are asleep, and its activity 
 is very little under the direct .control of our wills. 
 It goes from one subject to another in accordance 
 
138 CHARACTER: FORMATION— liFFECTS 
 
 with certain laws of the association of ideas, with 
 regard to which we may be ignorant. A great part 
 of our time is spent in this sort of thinking. Now 
 and then we are aroused to consciousness and attend 
 for a moment to what we are thinking about, but 
 soon lapse again into our unconscious way of drift- 
 ing. Thus day after day passes, with only occa- 
 sional periods of consciousness of the process we 
 are going through. 
 
 The benefit of our having established characters 
 is that our unconscious thinking will be in keeping 
 with those characters, and that there is no danger 
 of our going astray in those moods. 
 
 Whether any one believes the contents of this 
 paper or not is a matter of no great consequence, 
 as the main point in it is that our characters modify 
 the body. At the same time, it is a matter of com- 
 fort to those who do believe, for it helps to explain 
 the value of a good character. 
 
Charader, and Happiness as a Result 
 
 As character is one of the few things here on 
 earth worth hving for, it behooves us to study it 
 most carefully. We will first take up the cause of 
 character. ''It may be taken for granted that almost 
 everybody has a character," so says one, ''be the 
 same more or less good, bad or indifferent, as the 
 case may be. The exception, in fact, need only be 
 made in favor of imbecile persons and idiots, who 
 usually possess no character at all to speak of, or 
 whose character is at least of a decidedly negative 
 and uninteresting kind. And, furthermore, roughly 
 speaking, no two characters are ever absolutely 
 identical. The range of peculiarity is practically 
 infinite. To be sure, there are some large classes 
 of mankind so utterly commonplace and similar that 
 from casual acquaintance it is hard to distinguish 
 the individuality of one of them from that of the 
 other." 
 
 Yet no tw^o human beings on this earth, not 
 even twins, are so utterly and absolutely alike that 
 those who have known them familiarly for years 
 fail to distinguish one from the other. The prob- 
 lem of this difference or peculiarity has for each of 
 us a personal interest, and importance as well, for 
 each of us wishes naturally to know how and why 
 he happened to come by his own charming and 
 admirable character. Let us see how far we can 
 gain any light from the doctrine of heredity on this 
 curious question of the origin of character. 
 
 If persons of different color marry, their chil- 
 
140 CllARACTLik AXD HAPPINUSS 
 
 dren will be of color between the two — a sort of 
 compromise. If the father be white and the mother 
 black, the children will be mulattoes. Here, then, 
 we have a clear physical and almost mathematically 
 demonstrable case, showing that, so far as bodily 
 peculiarities, at least, are concerned, the child is, on 
 the average, just equally compounded of traits 
 derived from both parents. This simple fact, I 
 venture to think, gives us at once the real key to 
 the wdiole complex problem of peculiarity of char- 
 acter. Every child, on the average, represents one- 
 half its father and one-half its mother. Here it 
 takes after its grandfather, the earl, and there it 
 resembles its grandmother, the washer-woman. 
 
 ''How does it happen, then," suggests one, "that 
 two brothers or two sisters, born of the same par- 
 ents — twins it may even be — are often more unlike 
 each other in character and mental cjualities than 
 any tw-o ordinary strangers?" Well, the answer 
 simply is : It doesn't happen. "Make sure of your 
 facts before you begin to philosophize upon them. 
 Children of the same parents are always very much 
 like one another in all essential fundamentals. They 
 may differ a good deal among themselves, but their 
 differences are really and truly as nothing com- 
 pared with the vast complexity of their resem- 
 blances." 
 
 Mr. Galton has collected an immense mass of 
 evidence tending to show that, just as twins usually 
 resemble one another, almost indistinguishably, in 
 face and feature, so do they resemble one another 
 almost as narrowly in character and intellect. There 
 is such a thing as peculiarity, and the reason for its 
 existence is a very simple one. Each separate 
 human being, it is true, is, on the average, an equal 
 compound of his father and his mother, his grand- 
 fathers and grandmothers ; but not necessarily, or 
 even probably, the same compound. Father and 
 
CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 141 
 
 mother have each in their Hneal myriads of traits, 
 both mental and physical, any one of which may 
 equally happen to be handed down to any of their 
 children. And the traits handed down from each 
 may not happen to be by any means always the same 
 in the same family. This child may resemble the 
 father in this, and that child in that. In reality, 
 when w^e come to examine closely, we see that no 
 single feature, even, owes everything absolutely to 
 one parent only. Not a feature of the face that is 
 not at bottom, in one point or another, like to both 
 its ancestries; not a shade of expression that does 
 not recall in varying degrees some mingled traits 
 of either parent. 
 
 It is just the same in mental matters. There are 
 family characters and family intelligences, as there 
 are family faces and family figures. Each individ- 
 ual member of the brood has its own variety of this 
 typical character. Why is it, then, that most people 
 won't admit their own essential unity and identity 
 of character with their brothers and their sisters, 
 their cousins and their aunts? Vanity; vanity; 
 pure human vanity, is at the bottom of all their vio- 
 lent reluctance ! Every man flatters himself at heart 
 that he possesses an immense number of admirable 
 traits not found in any other and inferior members 
 of his own family. The fact is, if we want impar- 
 tially to discuss this question of character, we must 
 each leave our own supernaturally beautiful char- 
 acter out of the question, and think only of the 
 vastly inferior and ordinary characters of other 
 people. Examined from this impartial and object- 
 ive point of view, then, other families beside our 
 own, show us at once how much light may be cast 
 upon the origin of character by the study of fath- 
 ers and mothers, brothers and sisters, first and sec- 
 ond cousins, and so forth. 
 
 "If character results in the way I say it does," 
 
142 CHARACriiR AND HAPPINBSS 
 
 so says one, "then it will follow that, mentally and 
 physically, twins will bear more resemblance one 
 to another than ordinary brothers and sisters do." 
 
 I will cite a couple of examples which bear out 
 this conclusion : 
 
 "In one case, a couple of twins — men — had a 
 quarrel over a perfectly unimportant matter. They 
 came to very high words and parted from one 
 another in bad blood. On returning to their rooms 
 (they lived apart), each of them suffered from a fit 
 of remorse, and sat down to write a letter of con- 
 trition to the other, to be delivered by the morning 
 post. After writing it, one brother read his letter 
 over and, recalling the cause of the quarrel, added 
 at once a long postscript, justifying himself, and 
 reopening the whole question at issue. The other 
 brother posted his note at once, but, thinking the 
 matter over quietly afterwards, regretted his action 
 again, and supplemented by a second epistle, almost 
 unsaying what he had said in the first one." 
 
 The other story relates to a fact which happened 
 not to twins, but to two successive brothers, 
 extremely like one another in build and features, 
 and evidently modeled in mind and character in 
 the same mould. "They met a lady dressed in blue, 
 whom they had never seen before, at a military 
 dance. Each of them asked at once to be introduced 
 to her at first sight ; each asked the same officer for 
 an introduction (though they had several friends 
 in common present) ; each described her in the same 
 way, not as the lady in blue, but as the lady with 
 the beautiful ears; each fell desperately in love 
 with her off-hand; and each asked for a particular 
 flower out of a little bouquet containing four or five 
 more conspicuous blossoms. Finally, each came up 
 at the end of the evening to confide in the same 
 married lady of their acquaintance their desire to 
 see more of the beautiful stranger." 
 
CHARACTER AND HAPPINBSS 143 
 
 For most of the above facts I am indebted to 
 an article published in Cornhill Magazine. As the 
 facts are doubtless true, I have compiled and repro- 
 duced them. 
 
 Hitherto we have given attention to heredity 
 and its effects upon character. M'any think that 
 heredity is almost everything, and it is certainly a 
 great deal, for it is a hard matter to change or 
 eradicate traits that are born in one. Herbert 
 Spencer admitted that he possessed some undesir- 
 able traits of character, which he inherited, such as 
 impatience, intollerance, fault-finding and insub- 
 mission. It seems that because he inherited these 
 traits, he regarded it as useless to try and imprpve 
 upon them; anyway, there is no record of his try- 
 ing to so improve; he preferred to let them have 
 free possession of the field. 
 
 It is evident that man is not an individual only, 
 but a member of a large family — the human fam- 
 ily — and that it is incumbent on him to so regulate 
 his character that it will harmonize with his fellows. 
 In other words, he must develop a moral nature. 
 He must learn what conduct on his part will be 
 beneficial, and what will be injurious to others, and 
 learn to practice the one and avoid the other. 
 
 This knowledge of good and evil improves, so 
 that there is a great difference between the enlight- 
 ened conscience of the civilized man and the savage. 
 Like most other things, its difficulties lie at the 
 beginning, and it is by steady practice that it passes 
 into an instinctive nature. It is doubtless true, the 
 power of man to change and improve his character 
 is a limited one, but on the whole the improvement 
 of character is probably more within his reach than 
 intellectual improvement. Time and opportunity 
 are wanting to most men for any considerable intel- 
 lectual study, and even were it otherwise, every man 
 will find large tracts of knowledge and thought 
 
144 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 
 
 wholly external to his tastes, aptitudes and compre- 
 hension. But every one can in some measure learn 
 the lesson of self-sacrifice, practice what is right, 
 correct, or at least mitigate, his dominant faults. 
 What fine examples of self-sacrifice, quiet courage, 
 resignation in misfortune, patient performance of 
 painful duty, magnanimity and forgiveness under 
 injury may be often found among those who are 
 intellectually the most commonplace. One of the 
 most important lessons that experience teaches is 
 that in the great majority of cases success in life 
 depends more on character than on either intellect 
 or fortune. What we need for our ideal in this 
 world and all worlds is character, organized and 
 consecrated to human and heroic ends — the spirit 
 that turns from the common greed to the common 
 good. 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 "One of the first questions that must naturally 
 
 come to every writer," says Mr. Lecky, ''who deals 
 
 w^ith character, is what influence mere discussion 
 
 and reasoning can have in promdting the happiness 
 
 .of men." The^^Ckcumstances oy our lives, and the 
 
 /dispositions of our character, niainly determine the 
 
 [measure of happiness we enjoy, and more about 
 
 I the causes of happinesK and./ unhappiness can do 
 
 /little to effect them. It is^i^possible to obtain any 
 
 / serious knowledge of the world without perceiving 
 
 / that a large proportion of the happiest lives and 
 
 ^f characters are to be found where introspection, self- 
 analysis and reasoning about the good and evil of 
 life hold the smallest place. Happiness^gadeed, like 
 hea lth, is one of the things of wTiich meii rarel}^ 
 thlnk,_except \\4ien^tus impaired,_andjriurh _that 
 has 'been^^wTtrterTonthe subject has been written 
 ur;3irthe stfesj of some great depression. Such 
 writers areltke the man in Hagarth's picture, occu- 
 
CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 145 
 
 pying himself in the debtor's prison with plans for 
 the payment of the national debt. 
 
 Man comes into the world with mental and 
 moral characteristics which he can only very imper- 
 fectly influence, and a large proportion of the 
 external circumstances of his life lie wholly or 
 mainly beyond his control. At the same time, 
 every one recognizes the power of skill, industry 
 and perseverance to modify surrounding circum- 
 stances; the power of temperance and prudence to 
 strengthen a naturally weak constitution, prolong 
 life and diminish the chances of disease; the power 
 of education and private study to develop, sharpen 
 and employ to the best advantage our intellectual 
 faculites. Every one also recognizes how large df 
 part of the unhappiness of most men may be directly 
 traced to their own voluntary and deliberate acts^ 
 The power each man possesses in the education and 
 management of his character, and especially in the 
 cultivation of his dispositions and tendencies which 
 most largely contribute to happiness, is less recog- 
 nized and is perhaps extensive, but is not less real. 
 
 I^en^continually forget that happiness is a con- 
 dition of__mind and not a disposition of circum- 
 stanceS;, and one of the most common errors is that 
 of confusing happiness with the means of happiness, 
 sacrific ing the^ rst for the attainment of the second. 
 It is the error of the miser, who begins by seeking 
 money for the enjoyment it procures, and ends by 
 making the mere acquisition of money his sole 
 object, pursuing it to the sacrifice of all rational 
 ends and pleasures. Circumstances and character < 
 both cont ribute t o happiiTess, but "the proportionate 
 attenti£m=f>aid^=to-one or other of these great depart- 
 ments no.L-Qnly varies -larg^ely with different indi: 
 vidual s^but also \v ith different natian5-aHHl2ifferent 
 ages^ 
 
 Some systems of philosophy look mainly to the 
 
146 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 
 
 formation of dispositions. Stoicism is the most con- 
 spicuous of these. The paradox of the stoic, that 
 good and evil are so entirely from within that to a 
 wise man all external circumstances are indifferent, 
 represents this view of life in its extreme form. Its 
 more moderate form can hardly be better expressed 
 than in the saying of Dugald Stewart, that ''the 
 great secret of happiness is to study to accommodate 
 our own minds to things external rather than to 
 accommodate things external to ourselves." 
 
 On the other hand, the tendency of those 
 philosophers which treat man — his opinions and his 
 character — essentially as the result of circumstances, 
 and which aggrandize the influence of the external 
 world upon mankind is, in the opposite direction, 
 very pronounced. And the same tendency will be 
 naturally found in the most active industrial and 
 progressive nations; where life is very full and 
 busy ; where its competitions are most keen ; where 
 scientific discoveries are rapidly multiplying pleas- 
 ures and diminishing pains; where town life, with 
 its constant hurry and change, is the most promi- 
 nent. In such spheres men naturally incline to seek 
 happiness from without rather than from within, or, 
 in other words, to seek it, much less by acting 
 directly on the mind and character than through 
 the indirect method of improved circumstances. 
 
 English character on both sides of the Atlantic 
 is eminently a character in which thoughts, inter- 
 ests and emotions are most habitually thrown on 
 that which is without. Introspection and self- 
 analysis are not congenial to it. The whole tone of 
 society forms it. 
 
 In times of great sorrow, a degree of shame is 
 attached to demonstrations of grief which in other 
 countries would be deemed perfectly natural. The 
 disposition to dilate upon and perpetuate an old 
 grief by protracted mournings, by carefully 
 
CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 147 
 
 observed anniversaries, by long periods of retire- 
 ment from the world, is much less common than 
 on the continent, and is certainly diminishing. 
 Improved conduct and improved circumstances are, 
 to an English mind, the chief and almost only meas- 
 ures of progress. 
 
 That this tendency is, on the whole, a healthy 
 one for the part that circumstances play in the 
 formation of our characters is, indeed, very mani- 
 fest, and it is a humiliating truth that among these 
 circumstances mere bodily conditions which we 
 share with the animals holds a foremost place. 
 
 In the Jong run, and to the great majority of 
 men liealt h is p robably jth£--niQ^t 4mpartant -of all 
 threkmerrtr^l: happiness. Ac ute physical suff ering 
 or shatteredl^aTth will more than-counterbalaace 
 the best §lfts__of_fortujae. At the same time we 
 should not fail to note the fact that the habit which 
 so often grows upon men with slight chronic mala- 
 dies or feeble temperament or idle lives, of making 
 their own health and their own ailments the most 
 constant subject of their thoughts, soon becomes 
 a disease very fatal to happiness and positively 
 injurious to health. "I firmly believe," says one, 
 ''that half of the confirmed invalids of the day 
 could be cured of their maladies if they were com- 
 pelled to live busy and active lives and had no time 
 to fret over their miseries. One of the most seduc- 
 tive and mischievous errors in self-management is 
 the practice of giving way to interia, weakness and 
 depression. Those who desire to live should settle 
 this well in their minds, that nerve power is the 
 force of life, and that the will has a wonderously 
 strong and direct influence over the body through 
 the brain and the nervous systein-.-" 
 
 One of the first «g.nd mzTst clearly recognized j 
 rules to be observed is tlia^appiness is most likely \ 
 to be attained when it is iibt thi^direct object of pur^ 
 
 / / 
 
148 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 
 
 suit .Vn ideal life should be furnished with abund- 
 ant work that brings with it much interest. The 
 first great rule is that we must do something — life 
 must have a purpose and an aim — that work should 
 be not merely occasional and spasmodic, but steady 
 and continuous. Pleasure is a jewel which will 
 only retain its luster when it is in a setting gf^ work, 
 id a vacant life is one of the worst paiii^.^ 
 Another great truth is that a \yi^e man will 
 make it his aim rather to avoid snlrering than to 
 attain pleasure. The conscious and deliberate pur- 
 suit of pleasure is attended by many deceptions and 
 illusions, and rarely leads to lasting happiness. But 
 we can do very much by prudence, self-restraint and 
 intelligent regulation so to manage life as to avoid 
 a large proportion of its calamities, and at the 
 same time, by preserving the affections pure and 
 undimmed, by diversifying interests and forming 
 ^ active habits, to combat its tedium and despondency. 
 It w^ould probably be found, upon examination, that 
 most men who have devoted lives successfully to 
 great labors and ambitions, and who have received 
 / the most splendid gifts from Fortune have, never- 
 ^theless, found their chief pleasure in things uncon- 
 / nected with their rnain pursuit, and generally within 
 / the reach of common men. Domestic pleasures, 
 V, pleasures of scenery, pleasures of reading, pleasures 
 of travel or of sport have been the highest enjoy- 
 ment of men of great intellect, w^ealth and position. 
 'Though the close relationship that subsists 
 between morals and happiness is universally 
 acknowledged, I do not belong to the school," says 
 Mr. Lecky, whom I am quoting, ''which believes 
 that pleasure and pain, either actually anticipated, 
 are the only motives by which the human will can 
 be governed; that virtue resolves itself ultimately 
 into well-considered interests and finds its ultimate 
 interest and finds its ultimate reason in the happi- 
 
CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS U9 
 
 ness of those who practice it; that all our virtues 
 end in self-love, as the rivers in the sea." This is 
 making virtue too much of a selfish thing. It makes 
 self-interest too much the criterion of right and 
 wrong. For such reasons as these I believe it to be 
 impossible to identify virtue with happiness. Even 
 when the connection is most close between virtue 
 and pleasure, it is true, as the old Stoics said, ''that, 
 though virtue gives pleasure, this is not the reason 
 why a good man will practice it; that pleasure is 
 the companion, and not the guide of his life ; that he 
 does not love virtue because it gives pleasure, but it 
 gives pleasure because he loves it." 
 
 The latter part of this paper has been compiled 
 largely from the writings of Mr. Lecky, of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 11- 
 
Causes of Happiness 
 
 There are men and women who have through 
 Hfe, and by some fortunate heredity of constitution, 
 supplemented by cares of an individual kind, gone 
 through long trying eventful careers with perfection 
 of happiness. Joseph Priestly was one of these for- 
 tunates. "I was born," says he, ''of a happy dis- 
 )Osition." And so this man, through a life of 
 struggle and tempest such as few men have known, 
 was ever in happiness. In his child-life, he loses 
 Ris mother. He leaves his home, and is domiciled 
 by his aunt whose gloomy tenets would drive some 
 natures to the deepest melancholy. He passes 
 through severe changes of thought on solemn sub- 
 jects. He becomes a preacher, but owing to a 
 defect of speech cannot display an eloquence he 
 knows is in him, and tossed from pulpit to pulpit, 
 penniless, is forced to teach that he may live. He 
 becomes half friend, half librarian of a nobleman, 
 by whom he is petted at first, and then, with the 
 capreciousness of power, is turned off as a once- 
 favored dog might be, without a word of explana- 
 tion. He makes one of the grandest discoveries of 
 the century and lives to see it accredited to another 
 man to whom he communicated it in the most open 
 manner. Suspected of sympathizing w^ith children 
 of liberty, he becomes, under the vengeance of a 
 vulgar priest, the victim of an ignorance, which 
 burns his house and all his precious papers, and he 
 escapes barely with his life. Coming to London, he 
 is obliged to hide from enmity, and (crudest cut 
 
 150 
 
CAUSES Of HAPPINESS 151 
 
 of all) is disowned by and cast out of the learned 
 society, whose work he has helped to immortalize. 
 At last, driven in his old age from his native coun- 
 try, he goes to a foreign and distant land, forgiving 
 every one, to die there in perfect peace. 
 
 Such changes as these, such oppressions through 
 every stage of life, would kill an ordinary man. 
 Yet here was a man who went through every phase 
 of suffering with happiness. He personally explains 
 the reason: ''I was born with a happy disposition. '\ 
 
 We gather from such instances as these (rare, ] 
 it is true, but reliable,) that in the range of physical S 
 life there is a happiness Htie to heredity; to some I 
 combinations of ancestry Awhich, being repeated, ' 
 would lead to the birth oK an almost new race^ 
 amongst which Priestly's ow^n desire — ''the great-'' 
 est good for the greatest number" — would be the 
 common blessing. 
 
 There is another proof of happiness which comes S 
 within the knowledge of the majority of mankind, ^\ 
 although it is not universal. This proof consists of 
 a sensation felt of happiness, which often in conse- 
 quence of its abruptness and sharp contrast with 
 what has gone before, so that the event is often 
 recalled and often expected with anticipation. At/ 
 such moments the actual cares of the world sit 
 lightly. The impossible a short time before becomes 
 the possible or the easy. Dark forebodings which 
 have pressed almost to despair pass away, and the 
 future is roseate with prospect. There are few who 
 have not experienced this curious change toward 
 happiness. 
 
 If happiness can be obtained for one day, for>^ 
 one hour, why not for all days, for all hours ?y 
 Common folk call it lightness of spirit, light-heart^ 
 edness, being lifted up above the common fate of 
 daily oppression and daily sorrow. 
 
 'The symptoms of happiness it is desirable to 
 
152 CAUSES OP HAPPINESS 
 
 U) know. In the wake of happiness, the pulse is 
 regular, tonic, free ; the l)reathing is natural ; the 
 eye is bright and clear; the countenance, even in 
 age, is youthful; the appetites are keen, but orderly; 
 the judgment is sound, but joyous; the muscular 
 bearing is firm, steady; there is no indication of 
 carrying a load on the back, or of oppressive sinking 
 exhaustion." 
 
 I will pass to the thought of how to extend this 
 state — a thought which, according to my view, is 
 eminently practical. To arrive at the idea of the 
 mode of working in this direction, we cannot do 
 better than survey, in the first place, the conditions 
 under w^hich the phenomena of happiness and its 
 counterpart — depression or unhappiness — are mani- 
 fested. By a sort of general impression, the weather 
 is believed to exert a peculiar influence for and 
 Lgainst the phenomena of happiness. In this view 
 there is some undoubted truth; an increase of the 
 (atmospheric pressure, which we have when the 
 smoke of the chimney rises, and a decrease which 
 sjve have when the smoke fails to rise, but settles 
 near the earth, is each a cause of happiness or 
 otherwise. In ascending from valleys to moderate 
 heights, there is, up to a certain distance, a distinct 
 effect of this kind. "So definite is the action that 
 I know," says Dr. Richardson, ''of one person who, 
 under some conditions, feels that life is a load too 
 hard to bear, but who in a dry, bright, mountain 
 region throw^s off the despair altogether and lives 
 a new life. 
 
 In the nicely adjusted balance of atmospheric 
 pressure against animal circulation of blood, the 
 circulation is relieved by a moderate removal of 
 pressure. The brightness of mind induced by 
 removal of pressure and free circulation is, how- 
 ever, subject to other conditions. Dryness must 
 
CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 153 
 
 accompany lightness of air to produce the condition 
 favorable to happiness. 
 
 There are electrical conditions of the atmosphere 
 during which happiness contrasts strongly and 
 strangely with the depression incident to other con- 
 ditions. 
 
 How the dryness af the air, peculiar to our cli- 
 mate as distinguished from that of Europe, excites 
 nervousness, and thereby affects happiness, is of the 
 highest practical interest. In regard to the electrical 
 scate of a dry atmosphere, this general fact is quite 
 clear : that the electricity which is found in all states 
 of the atmosphere is less easily and uniformly dif- 
 fused, and more liable to various disturbances 
 through inequalities of tension, when the air is dry 
 than when it is moist. Moisture conducts electricity, 
 and an atmosphere well charged with moisture, other 
 conditions being the same, will tend to keep the elec- 
 tricity in a state of equilibrium, since it allows free 
 and ready conduction of it at all times and in all 
 directions. Hence it does not accumulate in certain 
 localities as electric clouds, as they are called, and 
 give rise to certain minor discharges, to the great 
 annoyance of human beings. The human body, 
 therefore, when surrounded by a moist atmosphere, 
 never has its own electrical condition seriously dis- 
 turbed, nor is it liable to sudden and frequent disturb- 
 ances from the want of equilibrium in the air in 
 which it moves. 
 
 Mr. Hingeston, of Brighton, England, has very 
 beautifully connected these varying states of atmos- 
 phere and these varying states of mind with cloud- 
 land. He sees in the clouds the outward and visible 
 signs of the mental state in the large and white- 
 headed masses that collect in clear bright days, 
 indicating storms of hail, rain and thunder, and 
 that gyrate from left to right. On the approach of 
 one of these masses of vapor, the mercury of the 
 
154 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 
 
 barometer first falls and then rises with great 
 rapidity. The acconipam^ng and residua.l_state of 
 the atmospheiTlTcoiigen^^ to health. "^Tlie favorable 
 'fea ction 6f the~mind is serene and happy. The air 
 in these nfoments is antagonistic of disease. With 
 the breaking up and dissolving of these large masses 
 of clouds, there is electric action. The entire atmos- 
 phere changes. Everything is dull and gray. The 
 so-called dyspepsia prevails, the acid indigestion of 
 gouty habits reveals itself. So that clouds may be 
 considered not only picturesque beauties in the land- 
 scape, but also as criterions for judging of some of 
 the most potent effects resulting from the operation 
 of an experiment silently and delicately performed 
 upon the functions and sensations of animated 
 beings. 
 
 Cold and heat play ditlerent parts in the produc- 
 tioiT"and reduction of happiness. A dry and sharp 
 cold wave exerts a gentle pressure on the surface of 
 the body, which fills the nervous centers with blood 
 and helps to felicity of mind. A long and piercing 
 easterly, chilling wind checks circulation, robs heat, 
 and produces even melancholic sadness. A dry, 
 genial warmth acts like a bracing cold. A long 
 warmth, w^ith moisture, checks the vital action and 
 produces a degree of depression which may be as 
 intense as that w^hich is induced by prolonged 
 exposure to cold. 
 
 / The seasons of the year which are attended with 
 /least exhaustion of the body are those which favor 
 khappiness. When the exhaustion of the winter and 
 aepressing spring months has been removed by the 
 warmth of a genial summer and autumn, the time 
 is most favorable for serenity of mind. On the 
 other hand, the exhaustion of winter and spring 
 induces depression, and is no doubt the cause of 
 that melancholy which renders the months of spring 
 the maximum periods of death by suicide. 
 
CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 155 
 
 \ 
 P urity of_ the atmosphere i^ an unquestionable 
 aid to happiness. The comparison of children liv- 
 ing under different circumstances is sufficient proof 
 of this fact. The children of an open, well-venti- 
 lated school-room — how dift'erent are they from 
 those who are immured in some of the close, over- 
 packed dens which are called school-rooms! Com- 
 pare the felicity of the children of the well-to-do 
 who live out of doors with that of the children of 
 the small trader, whose back parlor is living-room 
 and play-ground; or the happiness of the man or 
 woman who leads an out-door life \^■ith that of those 
 who live in the close office or work-room. 
 
 There are still other agencies which bring or 
 check human happiness, and which are as purely 
 physical in character as those above recorded. There 
 are substances which, taken into the body, produce 
 strange contrasts in respect to happiness and depres- 
 sion. Foods well cooked, foods carefully selected, \ 
 foods supplied in sufficient quantity to sustain the/ 
 body equally in all its parts, and so moderate- asS 
 never to oppress the nervous digestive powers, alT 
 conduce to happiness in the most telling manner. ' 
 
 As a rule, all agents which stimulate, that is to 
 say, relax the arterial tension, and so allow the 
 blood freer course through the organs, for a time 
 promote happiness, but in the reaction leave depres- 
 sion. Tea has this effect. It causes a short and 
 slight felicity. It causes, in a large number of per- 
 sons, a long and severe and painful sadness. There 
 are many who never know a day of happiness owing 
 to this one destroying cause. 
 
 There is another agent more determinate in its 
 effects, and that is wine. Wine maketh the heart 
 glad, but the reaction from it is of the bitterest of 
 human sufferings. The whole of the narcotic series 
 of substances, in the use of which human beings 
 
156 CAUSUS OF HAPPINESS 
 
 indulge in order to secure felicity, comes under the 
 same condemnation as the two last-named agents. 
 The habitual use of opium for the desire of happi- 
 ness is of the same erroneous character. The opium 
 smoker, the opium eat er, tell _us of^ certain dreams 
 aiid3p!iantasies~ whicE^re for a moment felicitous 
 wanderings^jf the mind; then he falls into abjec- 
 tion, whicli deepens and deepens until the desire to 
 return to the cause of the dejection is too over- 
 povv€Ti«g^-ie-be-rcs!sted . 
 
 I have dwelt thus far on influences of a purely 
 physical kind in their relation to happiness. I must 
 pass from these to a consideration of influences of 
 a different nature. In touching on this side of our 
 subject, the question of hereditary constitution 
 comes prominently into view. 
 
 There are some constitutional differences deter- 
 mined by temperament which are of first import- 
 ance. Of the four primary temperaments — the san- 
 guine, the nervous, the bilious, the lymphatic — and 
 of their relation to happiness, a volume might be 
 written. I must here be content to record as a 
 general fact that in the earlier days of life, the san- 
 guine is the happier temperament, but not the most 
 sustained ; that the dark or billions is the least happy 
 in early life, but is often, in time, rendered very 
 serene ; that the nervous yields a varying condition, 
 full of ups and downs ; that the lymphatic, or white- 
 blooded temperament, is by a negative effect the 
 most even. 
 
 The moral influences and impressions affecting 
 these natures are, from first to last, potent on most 
 of the temperaments. In childhood, the future his- 
 tory of the happy or unhappy after-life is usually 
 written. 
 
 As a rule, the tendency to happiness or the 
 opposite is planted. 
 
CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 157 
 
 Let me, as bearing on these matters of thought, 
 not diverge, but encourage, to our present study by 
 a reference to the position of happiness as a physio- 
 logical quality in life. Of the two natures with 
 which man is endow^ed, and which, by the duality, 
 distinguish him from the lower creation — the pure 
 animal and the pure intellectual natures — happiness 
 belongs to his animal nature. / 
 
 Happiness and misery are the signs of his still 
 animal character. Happm^S, in short, is not an/ 
 intellectual faculty at all ; it is not seated in the '^^ 
 brain. It is not a quality which a man can thinkj 
 himself into, or reason himself into, or directly will 
 himself into. It is, like the beating of his heart 
 and the circulation of his blood, a vital process, 
 going on indenepdently of his volition. 
 
 Happiness and its counterpart are not intel-*^ 
 lectual faculties, neither are they passions, neitherl 
 have they any direct relationship to physical pain./ 
 They are distinct from intellect, passion or physical 
 pain. They are the only true emotions. The man 
 who is destitute altogether of happiness is not of 
 necessity deficient in intellectual power, or destitute 
 of passion, or more or less sensitive to pain than 
 any one else. The most intellectual may be the most ^ 
 miserable; the most silly and inconsequent may be 
 the most blest with happiness. 
 
 'The worst instance of extreme, I may say, truly 
 harrowing, misery I ever saw" says one, 'Svas in 
 one of judicial mind, whose clearness and calmness 
 of judgment was a subject of general admiration, 
 but who never, he told me, had known (notwith- 
 standing his eminent success) in all his life an hour 
 of happiness." 
 
 "The man most replete with happiness I ever 
 knew," so says the same author, 'Svas one who was 
 
158 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 
 
 endowed with no intellectual supremacy, and who 
 was all through a long life a veritable child." 
 
 "The center of the emotion of happiness is not 
 in the brain," so says Dr. Richardson. ''The center 
 is in the vital nervous system, in the great ganglia 
 of the sympathetic, lying not in the skull or back- 
 bone, but in the great cavities of the body near the 
 stomach and near the heart. We know where the 
 glow which indicates happiness is felt; our poets 
 have described it w^th perfect truthfulness as in the 
 breast ; it comes as a fire kindling there. NoJryiiLg— 
 being ever felt happy in the head. Everybod^_vvho 
 has been h appy h as fe l t it from w tthrn tHebody. 
 
 "We know, again, where the depressioiiTof mis- 
 ery is located. The man who is ever miserable is a 
 'hypochondiac' His affection is below the ribs. 
 No man ever felt miserable in the head. He is 
 broken-hearted; he is bent down, and his shoulders 
 feel oppressed by a weight." 
 
 I will now invite your attention to another set 
 of influences : I notice, in the first place, that happi- 
 ness is always increased by sufficiency of rest and 
 sleej). Those who sleep in childhood and oMage 
 ten hours, in adolescence nine, and in middle age 
 eight hours, soundly, out of twenty-four are mostly 
 well favored with the blessing. I put sleep in the 
 first place as an aid to happiness because it is the 
 first. I have no knowledge of any instance in which 
 a person who slept well was altogether devoid of 
 happiness. The beneficent action of sleep in regard 
 to happiness is, however, indirect. It is due to the 
 physical and mental strength which it confers on 
 those it favors. 
 
 ^Strength of body secures happiness. Persons 
 comparatively weak of mind __niay, with good 
 physique be happy, but very few wHo~~are weaE of 
 body hav^-atiy 4eng^jtastes of happiness. We may 
 
CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 159 
 
 take it all around that the feeble of all ages are 
 unhappy. It is a matter of common observation 
 that persons who are so unfortunate as to be born 
 deformed of body, though the defect be concealed 
 or hidden, are not blessed with happiness. It is the 
 bad health as the rooted cause of the defect which 
 tells. Any sign of inherited weakness is an equal 
 sign of absent happiness, though it be no marked 
 hpysical defect. 
 
 Cardanus observed that persons who, from early 
 life, showed very large and prominent veins, and 
 thereby a languid circulation of blood are never 
 happy, while those of well-knit body are. The 
 observation is perfect. Physicians know that a slug- 
 gish circulation is incompatible with happiness, and 
 that they who show this indication are amongst the 
 most depressed. When the circulation is sluggish 
 the liver is sluggish and the brain is sluggish and the 
 nervous centers are depressed. 
 
 ''When the sun of life is high, 
 
 All is bright; 
 When the sun of life is low. 
 
 All is night. 
 Thus we laugh and thus we sigh — 
 Light and shade where'er we go." 
 
 Physical work, when it is carried to an extent 
 short of exhaustion, keeps up happiness, and sloth 
 destroys it. But the physical work that exhausts 
 kills happiness. The argument extends to mental 
 work. Moderate, wholesome, mental work is the 
 best of all aids to happiness. Next to sleep, . it 
 strengthens the mind, it softens grief, and soothes 
 care. Carried to excess it is pernicious and destroys 
 all happiness. 
 
 I have striven so far to indicate what may be 
 called the p hvsiological bearino-s of the subjecl . In 
 these respects, happiness stands precisely in the same 
 
It50 CAUSES Of HAPPINESS 
 
 position as health ; in the widest sense means health, 
 and is another word for health. Health, like happi-\^ 
 ness, is horn, is made and unmade by external/ 
 agencies, which as yet are out of human controly 
 Health resembles happiness, also that it depends on 
 the good working of the animal system of life. 
 
 Twenty-five years ago the above sentiments were 
 advanced by Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson, from 
 whose writings I have compiled this paper, as these 
 views are true today. 
 
SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 165 
 
 Friends we need. We need to hear the human 
 voice. We need some one to hsten to us. The 
 pleasure we receive from the flow of conversation 
 and the interchange of ideas is not fully appreciated. 
 We need friends, not to make us more law-abiding 
 or more religious, or better people in any way, but 
 to make us happy. Most persons have not the time 
 to spare to entertain a multitude of friends. 
 
 Giving our time to the happiness of others is a 
 worthy object, but the question is, would we not 
 succeed better in promoting that happiness by giv- 
 ing more time to improving ourselves, so as to fit us 
 for the effectual promotion of the happiness of 
 others. 
 
 Doubtless Emmerson was wrong when he said 
 "we must walk this earth alone." And Thomas 
 Moore was right when he said, ''unthinking heads 
 who have not learned to be alone are prisoners to 
 themselves, if they be not with others." And Patha- 
 goras was right when he said, "do not shake hands 
 with too many." 
 
 Friendship has come largely to men planning 
 and doing things together. It is a communion of 
 interests and tastes, rather than of thought and soul. 
 People meet in groups at one another's houses, or at 
 their clubs, discuss the affairs of the day, and 
 exchange kindly courtesies. But those who call them- 
 selves friends part forever without tears, and the 
 world is not perceptibly darkened. All this may 
 imply a more sensible view of things and a rational 
 widening of human interests. It is possibly better 
 to love many people a little than a few people a great 
 deal. And then again, it is possibly better not to be 
 too intimate, as there is something like electrical 
 influene in our actions. When two bodies of oppo- 
 site electrical states come near each other, they 
 exchange electrical conditions and become electric- 
 ally alike and, electrically speaking, like bodies repel 
 
 12- 
 
106 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 
 
 each other. Therefore, the old adage, "Familiarity 
 breeds contempt;" because each individual is jeal- 
 ous of his own individuality and right of personality 
 and privacy. A few, possibly, a very few, intimate 
 friends, however, are desirable to help to smooth 
 down the rough places of life, and lend additional 
 brightness to its bright oases. 
 
 The next element of happiness I will dwell on 
 consists in following inherited aptitudes. To most 
 of us the chance of happiness rests upon the develop- 
 ment of the individual gift. Let each man find out 
 what thing it is that nature specially intended him 
 to do, and do it. Work is only toil when it is the 
 performance of duties for which nature did not fit 
 us, and a congenial oc c upation is only serious play. 
 If a man has an overwhelming disposition to become 
 a lawyer or a physician or stock broker, and a talent 
 for any of these things, let no force of persuasion 
 or trick of circumstances induce him to abandon 
 them in favor of the fine arts, or anything else. The 
 happy are those who possess their own souls, whose 
 attitude toward life and their fellowmen is firmly 
 chosen and faithfully preserved. This mastery can 
 only be attained through the liberal development of 
 that special aptitude or faculty which nature has 
 implanted in each man for the purDoses of self- 
 expression and the services of mankind. The un- 
 happy are those who lack faith in themselves, who 
 Vlo not know what they want, who are at variance 
 with nature in the corroding conflict of passion and 
 uncertain ideals. Nature abhors above all things a 
 vacant soul, and she seems disposed to let loose 
 upon it every poisonous humor in order that it may 
 become untenable to its possessor. 
 
 In a free and characteristic activity, though we 
 may never fully attain the ends we seek, we shall 
 easily annul and disregard all the secondary and 
 feverish yearnings which harass and perplex the soul. 
 
SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 167 
 
 What man is more happy than the retired student, 
 who desires no better company than his beloved 
 books ? The poet who has succeeded in perpetuating 
 in perfect verse some genuine sally of beautiful emo- 
 tion; or, to come down to modes of self-expression 
 as honorable, if less distinguished, the true carpenter 
 or iron-worker or stone-cutter whose spirit is easily 
 occupied in the production of things excellent in 
 their practical beauty and usefulness. Such spirits 
 have it in them to flow lucidly and serenely, lapsing 
 over all obstacles with the silent smoothness of deep 
 and swift waters. They are happy, not because they 
 have no rebelious propensities, no faults or discords 
 of temperament, but because they have shaped for 
 themselves an adequate safety valve. There is in 
 every character that is worth anything a good deal 
 of superfluous energy — energy over and above what 
 is required for the discharge of the common duties 
 of life. If a man has not some living occupation 
 born of the quality of his own soul in which the 
 superfluous energy may expend itself in creative 
 activity, it gathers and ferments there as a bitter 
 and distinctive humor. If it is strictly suppressed, 
 it breeds ennui, hypochondria and despair. Unhappy 
 is the soul which is possessed by an energy too way- 
 ward and too violent to be appeased by any normal 
 activity ; an energy driven to find vent in wild tragic 
 excess. To those natures whose aptitudes and 
 impulses are exceptionally quick and stronp-, one of 
 the greatest dangers to happiness is in the refusal 
 to accept genially the limitations which society has 
 set to the undue expansion of the individual. The 
 uncontrolled nature of genius has often dashed itself 
 in youthful rebellion against the host of circum- 
 stances and brought forth from the struggle, only 
 wretchedness and ruin. To each one of us there 
 seems to be a barrier here and a barrier there, which 
 we cannot but think that nature intended us roughly 
 
168 SOMli ELUMENTS OF HAPPINESS 
 
 to overstep, since she planted in us exceptional 
 forces. 
 
 It is our business to plant ourselves within the 
 narrow limits of practical life and let the spirit shine 
 there to its utmost intensity. Thus the poet, when 
 he might give to the impulse of expression the freest 
 and wildest liberty chooses to confine himself within 
 the difficult bounds of the sonnet. We should accept 
 the limitations of life with this noble and pliant gen- 
 erosity of the poet, not with the austere spirit of the 
 stoic, wdio plants himself in hostility to joy, gathers 
 his skirts about him and holds aloof. But stoicism is 
 not happiness. 
 
 "The reason why happiness is most fully within 
 our reach is not," so says Mr. Archibald Lampman, 
 ''for the season of youth, but rather that of early 
 middle age. At this age we are in a position to 
 appreciate experience, to digest and make the most 
 of it. Moreover, the soul is stored with memories, 
 a possession of wdiich few of us sufficiently avail our- 
 selves or realize the value. It is in memory that our 
 deepest and securest pleasures consist. We spend 
 long lives in the pursuit v^hich we seldom attain, 
 but ahvays before us are the glories of anticipation 
 and behind us the magical play house of Memory. 
 Let us not, therefore, be exacting with life nor 
 demand too much of the present hour. Let us be 
 content if w^e lay up for ourselves treasures of fruit- 
 ful memory; for there is an Alchemy in the 
 imagination wdiich can brew pleasures out of the 
 most unpromising material and gleams of a curious 
 sunshine w^ill some day fall even upon the recollec- 
 ~ tion of our darkest miseries." So says the author 
 just named, and a great compensation it surely is. 
 y/' ''About the pursuit of happiness, how^ often I say 
 to myself," so says John Burroughs, "that, consider- 
 ing life as a whole, the most one ought to expect is 
 a kind of negative happiness, a neutral state; the 
 
SOME BLBMBNTS OF HAPPINESS 169 
 
 absence of acute or positive happiness." I^eutral 
 tints make up the great back-ground of nature, and 
 why not of Hfe? Neutral tints wear best in any- 
 thing. We do not tire of them. 
 
 To be consciously and positively happy all the^l 
 while — how vain to expect! We cannot walk ) 
 through life on mountain peaks. Both laughter and i 
 tears we know, but a safe remove from both is the / 
 average felicity. ^y 
 
 Another thought is that we have each a certainS^-^ 
 capacity for happiness or unhappiness which is pretty \ 
 constant. A thought worthy of attention is thaf^ 
 every throb of pleasure costs something to the body, 
 and that two throbs cost twice as much as one. Of 
 this, then, we may be quite certain, namely, that a 
 large amount of pleasure supposes a correspond- 
 ingly large expenditure of nerve-force. You have 
 felt this after being greatly amused ; in fact, you are 
 tired out. It is undoubtedly true that, as time wears 
 on, life becomes of a soberer hue. We are young 
 but once, and need not wish to be young but 
 once. There is the happiness of youth, there is 
 the happiness of manhood, there is the happiness 
 at age, the latter a parting glory like that of the 
 setting sun; each period wearing a hue peculiar to 
 itself. One of the illusions of life which is hard to 
 shake off is the fancying we were happier in the past 
 than we are in the present. The past has such power 
 to hallow and heighten effects. In the distance the 
 course we have traveled looks smooth and inviting) 
 Those days of the past which so haunt our memory/ 
 ai e but a trick of the imagination, for they, too, were 
 once the present and were as prosy and commonplace 
 as the moment now is. It is equally a mistake to 
 suppose we shall be happier tomorrow or next day 
 than we are today. 
 
 There is one element of happiness that has ndt 
 yet been mentioned, that is activity. The best thing 
 
170 SOMli ULEMBXrs OP HAPPINESS 
 
 for a stream is to keep moving. If it stops, it stag- 
 f nates. So the best thing for a man is that which 
 I keeps tlie currents going, the physical, moral and 
 . intellectual currents. Hence the secret of happiness 
 Hs — something to do; some congenial work. Take 
 away the occupation of all men, and what a wretched 
 world this would be. Half of it would commit sui- 
 cide in no great length of time. Few people realize 
 how much of their happiness, such as it is, is depend- 
 ent upon their work ; upon the fact that they are kept 
 busy. 
 ^ Happiness comes to most people who seek her 
 / least, and think least about her. It is not an object 
 I to be sought; it is a state to be induced. It must 
 \_follow, and not lead. Blessed is the man who has 
 some congenial work, some occupation in which he 
 can put his heart, and which affords a complete out- 
 let to all the forces there are in him. A man does 
 not want much time to think about himself. Too 
 much thought of the past and its shadows over- 
 whelm ; too much thought of the present dissipates ; 
 too much thought of the future unsettles. 
 
 "I recently had a letter," says Mr. Burroughs, 
 *'from a friend who writes how w^ell and happy he 
 has been during the season. He had enjoyed exist- 
 ence, the gods had smiled upon him, and he had 
 found life worth living. Then he told me, as a 
 matter of news, that his head man had been disabled 
 two months before, and the care of the farm had 
 devolved upon himself; more, that he was renovat- 
 ing a place he had recently bought, re-modeling the 
 house, shaping the grounds, etc. Then I knew why 
 he had been so unusually well and happy : He had 
 something to do, into which he could throw himself, 
 and it had set all the currents of his being going 
 again. 
 
 ''About the same time I had another letter from 
 another farmer friend who told me how busv he 
 
SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 171 
 
 was. And yet he was so happy! Troubles and 
 trials,' he says, 'are few and soon over with, while 
 the pleasures are past enumeration.' This man was 
 too busy to be unhappy; he had no time for the 
 blues. 
 
 'T overheard an old man and a young man talk- 
 ing at a station," says he. "The young man was 
 telling of an old uncle of his who had sold his farm 
 and retired into the village. He had enjoyed going 
 to the village, so now he thought he would take his 
 fill of it. But it soon cloyed upon him. He had 
 nothing to do. Every night he would say, with a 
 sigh of relief, 'Well, another day is through," and 
 each morning wondered how he could endure the 
 day." 
 
 Oh, the blessedness of work, of life-giving andi 
 life-sustaining work. The busy man is the happy 
 man; the idle man is the unhappy. When you 
 feel blue and empty and disconsolate, and life goes 
 wrong, go to work with your minds or hands. 
 
 "j\Ian does not love work," so says Ferrero. 
 'The distaste which savages, and primitive peoples 
 generally, show for work proves this. Evil men 
 entrench behind idleness. Yet to have food you 
 must toil. To have learning you must study, and 
 study is a form of work. To have pleasure you 
 must w^ork. In fact, it is the busy man who really 
 enjoys pleasure, and the cultivation of a love of 
 work is one of the greatest conquests of civilized 
 man. 
 
 There is but one other element of happiness I 
 will refer to on this occasion, and that is health. I 
 will not dwell upon it now. In the long run, 
 and to a great majority of men, h^aittJ-is^Jgrobajply 
 the important one o f all the elen ieuis-of- happii^essT- 
 Acufe~ptiysTi!3l~'suttering or shattered health will 
 more than counterbalance the best gifts of fortune. 
 If it be true that "ahealthy mind in a healthy body" 
 
172 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 
 
 is the supreme condition of happiness, it is also true 
 that the healthy mind depends more closely than we 
 like to own on the healthy body. To raise the level 
 of national health is one of the surest ways of rais- 
 ing the level of national happiness, and in estimat- 
 ing the value of different pleasures, many which, 
 considered in themselves, might appear to rank low 
 upon the scale, will rank high if, in addition to the 
 immediate and transient enjoyment they procure, 
 they contribute to form a strong and healthy body. 
 No branch of legislation is really more valuable 
 than that which is occupied with the health of the 
 people. Moderation in all things, an abundance oT^, 
 exercise, of fresh air, and of cold w^ater, a suffi- ! 
 ciency of steady work not carried to excess, are the 
 cardinal rules to be observed in leading to a life of 
 , happiness. 
 
 \ 
 
The Pursuit of Happiness 
 
 As all are in search of happiness, and none want 
 to be unhappy, I think my subject will be appre- 
 ciated. Although I may talk to you about happi- 
 ness, I may not succeed in increasing yours, at the 
 same time pointing out the direction in which it lies 
 may indicate to some extent the means that lead 
 thereto. Although it should not be forgotten that 
 happiness is most frequently found when it is not" 
 made an object of direct pursuit, as in self-improve- 
 ment, speaking the truth and acting honestly 
 wherein happiness lies, although it is not made a 
 direct end. 
 
 As many of the ideas found in this paper have 
 been extracted from the writings of Herbert 
 Spencer, I wish to acknowledge my obligation to 
 him once for all. 
 
 "To get into the merits of the subject, it is neces- 
 sary to divide happiness into two kinds : One effects 
 ourselves, which we will call egoistic-:^^ the second 
 
 effects others, and we will call it altnii stjc. As I 
 shall use these terms frequently, it will be well to 
 keep their references well in mind. One refers to 
 seli_or personal happiness, the second to the happi- 
 njeas_olx)thers. ~ 
 
 Now, it is important to determine which of these 
 should take precedence. To show this it is neces- 
 sary to show that happiness depends, to a much 
 greater extent than is generally believed, upon 
 bodily health. 
 
 Never, until this truth is fully realized, will the 
 
 173 
 
17-4 run PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 
 
 happiness of the world be greatly increased. When- 
 ever people learn to consider the amount of unhap- 
 piness caused by ill health, they will avoid it on this 
 account. If more attention were given to the body, 
 its comfort and well being, there would be much less 
 unhappiness in the world, less pain and suffering. 
 When all the organs of the body are in good work- 
 ing order, there is a feeling of well being which is 
 very agreeable. We feel happy and don't know 
 why. Without this feeling there can be no great 
 enjoyment, with it there may be great comfort with 
 but little co-operation of the mind properly so called. 
 
 A point of great importance is that pleasurable 
 feelings promote the health of body, and vice versa. 
 Painful feelings are detrimental to the body; pleas- 
 ures, both great and small, are stimulants to the 
 processes by which life is maintained. Light arouses 
 the circulation of blood in the brain and fresh air 
 invigorates the whole body. Sunshine is enlivening 
 in comparison with gloom, and experiments have 
 shown that sunshine raises the rate of respiration; 
 raised respiration being an index of raised vital 
 activities in general. A warmth that is agreeable 
 in degree favors the heart's action, and furthers the 
 various functions to which this is instrumental. 
 From which it would seem that happiness depends 
 to a greater extent upon climatic influences than is 
 generally supposed. 
 
 Agreeable sensations accompany muscular and 
 mental action after due rest, and that agreeable sen- 
 sations are caused by rest after exertion cannot be 
 questioned. Receipt of these pleasures conduces to 
 the maintenance of the body in fit condition for all 
 the purposes of life. 
 
 More manifest still are the physiological benefits 
 of emotional pleasures. Every power, bodily and 
 mental, is increased by good spirits. Invalids, espe- 
 cially, show the benefits derived from agreeable 
 
THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 175 
 
 states of feeling. In brief, as every medical man 
 knows, there is no such tonic as happiness. 
 
 On the other hand, bodily agony long borne 
 produces death by exhaustion. More frequently, 
 arresting the action of the heart for a time, it causes 
 that temporary death we call fainting. 
 
 Xo less conspicuous ^axe_ the depressing .effect&__ 
 of emotional jpains. Often a piece of bad news is 
 succeetied by sickness, and continued anxiety will 
 produce loss of appetite and diminished strength. 
 While, therefore, craving or negative pain accom- 
 panies the under-activity of an organ, and while 
 positive pain accompanies its over-activity, pleasure 
 accompanies its normal activity. In illustration of 
 the effects of under-activity, I will state that unless 
 a man wdio is in the habit of busying his mind has 
 some subject to dwell on, he is not happy. 
 
 And, further, it has been claimed that grief from 
 the loss of a dear friend is due to the absence of the 
 activity of the affections that were wont to be lav- 
 ished on that friend. 
 
 In further illustration of the importance of the 
 body in considering happiness, I will state that while 
 forcing one to remain inactive after due rest is a 
 punishment, there is nothing equal as a remedy 
 for low spirits as an abundance of bodily exercise, 
 showing that happiness depends greatly on small 
 matters. 
 
 The delights of bodily movements are seen 
 in the skipping of lambs, the prancing of colts and 
 the play of dogs. 
 
 Given a healthy body and mind, with induce- 
 ments for action and opportunities for rest, and you 
 have not only the elements but the bread and butter 
 of a happy existence. 
 
 We are now better prepared to consider which 
 should come first — our own happiness or that of 
 others. 
 
176 THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 
 
 Of self-evident truths, the one which here con- 
 cerns us is that a creature must live before it can 
 act. From this it is a corollary that acts by which 
 each maintains his own life must precede in im- 
 perativeness all other acts of which he is capable. 
 For if it be asserted that those other acts must pre- 
 cede in imperativeness acts which maintain life, 
 then, by postponing the acts which maintain life to 
 the acts which life makes possible, all must lose 
 their lives, if it is accepted as a general law. To 
 place altruism before egoism is, therefore, suicidal, 
 whereas self-preservation is the first law of nature. 
 Unless each duly cares for himself, his care for all 
 others is ended by death, and if each thus dies, there 
 remain no others to be cared for. 
 
 The conclusion forced upon us is that the pursuit 
 of individual happiness is the first requisi t e to the 
 attainment of the greate st general happiness . To 
 see this, it needs but to contrast one wdiose self- 
 regard has maintained bodily well being with one 
 whose regardlessness of self has brought its natural 
 results. He who carries self-regard far enough to 
 keep himself in good health and high spirits in the 
 first place becomes an immediate source of happi- 
 ness to those around, and in the second place main- 
 tains the ability to increase their happiness by altru- 
 istic actions. 
 
 In one further way. is the undue subordination 
 of egoism to altruism injurious. That one man 
 may yield up to another a gratification, it is needful 
 that the other shall accept it. Acceptance implies a 
 readiness to get gratification at another's cost. 
 Every one can call to mind circles in which the daily 
 surrender of benefits by the generous to the greedy 
 has caused increase of greediness until there has 
 been produced an unscrupulous selfishness intoler- 
 able to all around. That egoism preceeds altruism 
 
THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 177 
 
 in order of imperativeness, we think, is thus clearly 
 shown. 
 
 Although the above conclusion is at variance 
 wath the nominally accepted belief, it is not at vari- 
 ance with actually accepted belief. It is in harmony 
 with the doctrine which men do act upon. Every 
 one, by deed and word, implies that in the business 
 of life personal welfare is the primary consideration. 
 As self-evident as this seems to be, it is strange that 
 any one should contend for the opposite. 
 
 If we define altruism as being all actions which, 
 in the nominal course of things, benefits others 
 instead of benefiting self, then from the dawn of life 
 it has been no less essential than egoism. Under 
 altruism, I take the acts by which offspring are pre- 
 served and the species maintained. And yet this is 
 not a fair specimen of altruistic acts, as the off- 
 spring is a part of the parent. 
 
 The imperativeness of altruism is, indeed, no 
 less than the imperativeness of egoism, as far as the 
 race is concerned. For while, on the one hand, a 
 falling short of normal egoistic acts entails enfeeble- 
 ment or loss of life, on the other hand, such defects 
 of altruistic acts as cause death of offspring involves 
 disappearance from future generations of the nature 
 that is not altruistic enough. 
 
 There has been a slow advance from the altruism 
 of the family to social altruism, which prepares us 
 to consider the several ways in which personal wel- 
 fare depends on due regard for the welfare of 
 others. 
 
 First to be dealt with comes that negative altru- 
 ism implied by such curbing of the egoistic impulses 
 as prevents direct aggression. Each profits egoistic- 
 ally from the growth of an altruism which leads 
 each to aid in preventing the violence of others. 
 
 The like holds when we pass to that altruism 
 which retains the undue egoism displayed in the 
 
178 run PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 
 
 breaches of contract. Here eacli is personally inter- 
 ested in securing good treatment of his fellows by 
 one another. 
 
 There is another way in which personal welfare 
 depends upon making certain sacrifices for social 
 welfare. The man who expends his energies wholly 
 on private affairs, pluming himself on his wisdom 
 in minding his own business is blind to the fact that 
 his own business is made possible only by a healthy 
 social state, and that he loses all round by defective 
 governmental arrangements. 
 
 But there are ways other than those mentioned 
 in which altruism manifests itself. For instance, by 
 giving material aid. This mode of charity requires 
 care, lest more harm than good results. The prac- 
 tice of benevolence, however, is harmless. The 
 speaking of a good word or word of warning or of 
 encouragement often is of great service, and occa- 
 sions great comfort. 
 
 The case on behalf of egoism and the case on 
 behalf of altruism have been stated, and they seem 
 to conflict. If the maxim, live for self, is wrong, so 
 also is the maxim, live for others. We will take the 
 last. This necessarily leads us to an examination of 
 the greatest happiness principle, that is, that general 
 happiness ought to be the object of pursuit, which 
 identifies it with pure altruism. Mr. Mills, the 
 great exponent of this doctrine, says "everybody to 
 count for one, nobody to count for more than one," 
 which brings about the idea of distribution. The 
 idea is that the greatest happiness should be the end 
 sought, and that in appropriating it everybody 
 should count for one and nobody for more than 
 one. This implies that happiness is something that 
 can be cut up into parts and handed round, which 
 is an impossibility. 
 
 The utilitarian principle of general happiness, or 
 the happiness of the greatest number, involves the 
 
THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 179 
 
 belief that it is possible for happiness to be trans- 
 ferred. 
 
 The proposition taken for granted is that happi- 
 ness in general admits of detachment from one and 
 attachment to another. But a moment's thought 
 shows this is far from the truth, for the reason 
 that much of the happiness each enjoys is self- 
 generated, and can neither be given nor received. 
 
 We have seen that pleasure accompanies normal 
 amounts of function or exercise, while pains accom- 
 pany defects or excess of exercise. Hence, to yield 
 up normal pleasures is to yield up so much life. If 
 he is to continue living, the individual must neces- 
 sarily take certain amounts of those pleasures which 
 go along with fulfilment of the bodily functions, 
 and must avoid the pains which non-fulfilment of 
 them entails. Complete abnegation means death. 
 
 When, therefore, we attempt to specialize the 
 proposal to live not for self-satisfaction, but for 
 the satisfaction of others, we meet with the difih- 
 culty that, beyond a certain limit, this cannot be 
 done. In other words, the portion of happiness 
 which it is possible for one to yield up is only a 
 limited portion. How can one yield to another, 
 and how can another appropriate to himself the 
 pleasures of one's own health, or the pleasures of 
 one's own muscular exercise, the pleasures of one's 
 own mental efforts, or of any kind of efforts, at 
 our self-improvement? 
 
 Again, the pleasures of efficient action — suc- 
 cessful pursuit of ends — cannot, by any process, be 
 parted with, and cannot in any way be appropriated 
 by another. If we contemplate the various ambi- 
 tions which play so large a part in life, we are 
 reminded that, so long as the consciousness of effi- 
 ciency remains a dominant pleasure, there will 
 remain a dominant pleasure which cannot be pur- 
 sued by others but must be pursued by self. 
 
180 THE PURSUIT OP HAPPINESS 
 
 It is admitted that self-happiness is, in a meas- 
 ure, to be obtained by furthering the happiness of 
 others. May it not be true that conversely, that 
 general happiness is to be obtained by furthering 
 self-happiness? Our conclusion must be that gen- 
 eral happiness, worthy as is the object, is to be 
 achieved mainly through the adequate pursuit of 
 their own happiness by individuals, while recipro- 
 cally the happiness of individuals is to be achieved, 
 in part, by their pursuit of general happiness. 
 
 When increasing the happiness of others 
 increases our own happiness, as is generally the 
 case, it is all right; but, whatever moralists may 
 say to the contrary, whenever we promote the happi- 
 ness of others by the loss of our own, the act, to 
 that extent, is suicidal, if happiness, as is contended, 
 promotes health and is favorable to life. 
 
 And such a man as Professor Sidgwick, of Har- 
 vard, who takes a different view, is compelled to 
 confess that there is an irreconcilible difficulty in 
 reconciling one's interest and one's duty. "The 
 meaning of the word duty," says he, "is something 
 good for others, not good for me. And why should 
 I be sacrificed to another man? Even though there 
 is a motive in my constitution that urges me to self- 
 sacrifice, why am I in particular to be oppressed with 
 another man's burdens? Let every one bear his 
 own burden, is the dictate of reason and justice." 
 
 It may be asserted that this paper tends to make 
 men selfish. This I doubt, as they are so by nature. 
 I have simply pointed out some of the reasons why 
 they are so. 
 
 W^e pass to the consideration of the effects of 
 sympathy in increasing our pleasures and in 
 diminishing our pains. Now a pleasurable con- 
 sciousness is aroused on witnessing pleasure; now 
 a painful consciousness is aroused on witnessing 
 pain. Hence, if beings around one habitually mani- 
 
THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 181 
 
 fest pleasure, sympathy yields to the possessor an 
 increase of pleasure. But all men are also in a 
 high degree sensitive or sympathetic to our pains, 
 both bodily and mental. Were it not so, life would 
 be scarcely tolerable, when we consider the misery 
 everywhere being suffered as consequence of war, 
 crime and misfortune. If the life, however, is such 
 that suffering is daily inflicted, or is daily mani- 
 fested by associates, sympathy grows only to a cer- 
 tain extent. 
 
 To assume unlimited growth of sympathy is 
 to assume that the constitution will modify itself in 
 such a way as to increase its pains, and, therefore, 
 depress its energies; and it is to ignore the truth 
 that bearing any kind of pain gradually produces 
 insensibility to that pain or callousness. This cal- 
 lousness is not only in the sufferer but in beholders. 
 This is a wise provision of nature, for if the growth 
 of sympathy with pain were unlimited, it would 
 endanger health of body and mind, and the evils 
 which it would bring would offset its benefits, so 
 that sympathy would not increase our happiness. 
 
 Sympathy increases our happiness, then, by 
 yielding freely to pleasure, but only sparingly to 
 pain. 
 
 The object of this thesis has been to show that^^ / 
 
 neither individual nor general happiness should be ^^^ 
 the sole or main end of life. It is not an object to 
 be sought, it is a state of mind to be induced. It 
 must follow and not lead. 
 
 From the complexity of influences which bear 
 upon us, it is not probable that we should be moved 
 by one motive alone. Xow it is our happiness, and 
 now the happiness of others, and now it is to live out 
 our lives for the good of ourselves or that of others, 
 Herbert Spencer to the contrary notwithstanding. 
 
 13- 
 
The Effed of Happiness Upon 
 Charader 
 
 All men seek after happiness, and it is as natural 
 for them to do so as it is for sparks to fly upwards, 
 as is indicated by the actions of the child at the 
 breast, having tasted nourishment, and finding it 
 agreeable, nurses with avidity until satisfied. It 
 behooves us, then, to inquire into the effects of 
 happiness upon character. 
 
 There are those who claim that whatever pro- 
 duces happiness is right, and vice versa. This 
 theory we will not stop to consider, further than to 
 say if happiness is the main end of life, many will 
 have to be content with a very small portion. 
 4x^ By happiness we here mean external happiness, 
 wealth, success, fame, health and victory. What 
 effect has the possession or pursuit of these things 
 on character ? 
 1 Observation of human affairs has convinced all 
 the more highly civilized nations of the one great 
 I fundamental truth, that happiness, or prosperity, or 
 \ good fortune, is a menace to character. So that 
 unalloyed happiness is not perfect happiness. 
 
 Prosperity produces satiety, and only an unusual 
 amount of good sense will enable a man to bear it. 
 The view is undoubtedly well founded, that pros- 
 perity and success have the tendency to make one 
 self-satisfied and insolent. The prosperous man is 
 prone to judge others harshly and himself mildly. . 
 His success he considers to be due entirely to his 
 
 182 
 
CHARACTER AFFBCTBD BY HAPPINESS 183 
 
 own exertions. He is ready to speak uncharitably 
 of the misfortune or failure of others, and to lay 
 all the blame on them. He has no respect for the 
 strivings of others, nor sympathy with their mis- 
 fortunes, and thus arises the habit of mind called 
 insolence. This leads to the abuse of the weak and 
 vanquished; to a state of careless self-assurance. 
 
 It is a noteworthy fact that the mere sight of 
 sensuous enjoyment usually fills the spectator with 
 disgust. Thus, for instance, to w^atch a company 
 of people feasting and drinking is apt to arouse 
 feelings of repulsion. We naturally shrink from 
 observing the satisfaction and excesses of sensuous 
 needs. 
 
 What makes the vain man so unbearable is the 
 fact that he needs and seeks people to wliom to 
 narrate his deeds and sufferings. Biographies 
 usually become uninteresting as soon as the hero 
 has overcome all difficulties and obstacles, the dan- 
 gers and battles, which separated him from his goal. 
 The years of rest and universal recognition, of fame 
 and wealth, however well deserved they may be, 
 are passed over in silence by the biographer. 
 
 "Enjoyment is degrading," says Faust. A pro- 
 found truth, for the soul addicted to pleasure is con- 
 quered and degraded. The real secret of Faust's 
 power of resistance to evil was his failure to find 
 satisfaction in pleasure. 
 
 What is true of individuals is also true of col- 
 lective bodies, of nations, classes, parties — prosper- 
 ity ruins them. They lose their capacity for self- 
 criticism and self-control; they lose their strength 
 and dignity; they lose the sense of what is proper, 
 and so inwardly are ruined; they are ingloriously 
 defeated by a despised foe. Nothing in the world 
 is more repulsive than a company of well-fed and 
 self-satisfied persons, who boast of their fatness and 
 satiety; nothing is so apt to arouse all healthy 
 
184 CHARACTER AFFiiCTED BY IIAFFINESS 
 
 instincts of humanity against it; nothing, therefore, 
 so certain of destruction, as history proves. 
 
 Social pleasures are so easily abused that it is not 
 strange that in all ages large numbers of sincere 
 men and women have called them evil. In the 
 excitement of social pleasure, work and duty may 
 be forgotten, and the strength of character which 
 is maintained by self-denying struggle may be lost. 
 Nations, such as the old Romans, for instance, that 
 have surrendered themselves unreservedly to pleas- 
 ure have become effiminate, cruel and corrupt. 
 
 Nevertheless, nothing is more unscientific than 
 to confound the effects of excess and abuse with 
 those of normal use. Yet an enormous number of 
 mankind who value those moral qualities that may 
 collectively be six)ken of as self-restraint or self- 
 conservation — the power to be temperate in all 
 things, to resist temptation, to abstain with rigid 
 self-denial from modes or degrees of pleasure that 
 often result in injury — is a trait of character vastly 
 admired by a portion of mankind and is chiefly 
 sought for in the selection of companions and in the 
 efforts that are made to mould the characters of the 
 members of the community. This particular form 
 of social valuation is known in history as puri- 
 tanism. 
 
 While, therefore, no community can afford to 
 forget that the cultivation of social pleasure at the 
 expense of sturdier social activities is a fatal error, 
 it cannot more afford to forget that social pleasure 
 under rational control is the original motive to social 
 development. 
 
 The history of the Church also confirms this 
 truth ; nay, perhaps it is nowhere so self-evident as 
 there, for the Church, triumphant and dominant, 
 invariably becomes haughty, stubborn, hard-hearted 
 and persecuting. 
 
 Such are the consequences of prosperity. Now 
 
CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 185 
 
 look at the other side of the picture — at the educat- 
 ing, strengthening, purifying effects of adversity, 
 failure and suffering. Misfortune renders the will 
 flexible; the will that can bear trouble is made 
 elastic and grows strong under pressure. It gives 
 us patience to bear the inevitable, it exercises our 
 ability to measure and test ourselves and our pow- 
 ers; it makes us modest in our demands and 
 charitable in our judgments of others' failings. 
 Prosperity develops the repulsive qualities of human 
 nature ; adversity unites men, making them friendly, 
 patient and just. 
 
 When a storm suddenly comes up on a summer 
 day, w^e may see how the persons of high and low 
 degree, who avoided and repelled each other while 
 the sun was shining, now seek refuge beneath the 
 same roof, and bear and even jest with each other. 
 So it is when a great misfortune overtakes a city 
 or a nation — it breaks down all the barriers of pride 
 and hatred which were erected in the days of pros- 
 perity. Finally, the highest moral perfection is not 
 matured without misfortune and suffering. 
 
 Misfortune has an educating influence. "No 
 human being can be trained without blows," so says 
 Menander. And a Greek poet said: '*Zeus (their 
 god) leads us to wisdom and sanctifies the law that 
 suffering is our teacher." 
 
 Suffering is punishment; but for him who 
 accepts the punishment, it is also a remedy against 
 that disease of the soul which is caused by pros- 
 perity — self-righteous harshness. 
 
 The dying Socrates has become for philosophers 
 a living witness of the truth that ''no evil can befall 
 man so long as he refuses to regard it as such." 
 "How can that be an evil," asks Marcus Aurelius, 
 "that does not make me worse?" 
 
 Hence we may say that real happiness is a proper 
 mixture' of so-called happiness_^ (good fortune) and 
 
186 CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 
 
 misfortune. "A man's lot is not happy wlicn all 
 his desires are always and fully realized, but when 
 he obtains a proper share of joy and sorrow, success 
 and failure, plenty and want, struggle and peace, 
 work and rest, and obtains it at the right time." Just 
 as the plant needs sunshine and rain in order to 
 thrive, so the inner man cannot prosper without 
 both cheerful and gloomy days. 
 
 If everything went against him, if he experi- 
 enced nothing but trouble, he would, necessarily 
 turn from the world and life with horror. 
 
 Nor could a man call himself happy if his wishes 
 were realized as soon as they rose in his soul. He 
 would miss some very important human experi- 
 ences; he would not bring out some quite essential 
 phases of human nature. Just as a general who has 
 never met with defeat would remain ignorant of all 
 the resources of his mind and be unable to unfold 
 them, so a man wdio has never wanted for anything 
 and has never failed in anything would not be able 
 to develop all the powers of his mind and will. He 
 would feel that fate had withheld from him some- 
 thing essential to the perfection of his being, and 
 he would, perhaps, like Polycrates, feel terrified at 
 his happiness. 
 
 And so we may be permitted to say that life, as 
 we find it, is, on the whole, adapted to the real needs 
 of human nature — it brings to every one good and 
 evil_ days, success and trials. 
 
 W^e are reminded of the thoughtful poem of 
 Chamisso : A man, complaining of the heaviness 
 of his cross, is taken to a large hall, where the 
 crosses of all human beings are stored. He is 
 allowed to choose a new one for himself. He lays 
 down his own and begins to look around for a suit- 
 able one. After a careful and deliberate search, he 
 finally finds a cross that seems most satisfactory to 
 him. Upon examining it more closely, he discovers 
 
CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 187 
 
 that it is his own cross which he had for the moment 
 failed to recognize. 
 
 There are people who would show us a better 
 world than our real world, and, therefore, denounce 
 the real world as a failure. If they were allowed 
 their imaginary world and were to live in it, they 
 would perhaps discover that the conditions are far 
 more satisfactory in our despised world. 
 
 If our pessimists could be transported to another 
 planet for a short period, they would perhaps learn 
 to think of the earth with longing and gratitude. 
 
 I close with a quotation from the life of Hum- 
 bolt : 
 
 ''We, too, have not been resting on a bed of 
 roses ; but our hearts are strong in patience and full 
 of energetic action. Pain is not a misfortune^ pleas- 
 ure not always a blessing; whoever fulfills his 
 destiny suffers both.'' 
 
 And iii_fulfil ling that destiny, it is advisable. to 
 hCj not overthoughtful of or too sensitive to either. 
 
 In the preparation of this paper, I wish to 
 acknowledge my obligations for help to Professor 
 Paulsen, of the University of Berlin. 
 
The World We Live In 
 
 If it be true that man has come up from a lowly 
 organized creature, that fact shows that the earth 
 was adapted for that puurpose, viz. : developing that 
 creature into man, else he never would have 
 appeared. But what sort of an arena is it, for the 
 development of man, after he comes upon the stage 
 as man? Is it adapted to his further evolution? 
 We shall see. The occupations of man for ages 
 were so simple, such as procuring food and cook- 
 ing it, providing shelter, garments and tools, his 
 progress was very slow, as is shown by the ages 
 which intervened from the time he learned to chip 
 stone before he learned to grind or polish it. 
 
 Human development is based upon the possibility 
 of a natural and harmonious satisfaction of the 
 instincts. One of the most important instincts is 
 usually not even recognized as such — the instinct of 
 workmanship. Lawyers, criminologists and philos- 
 ophers frequently imagine that only want makes 
 men work. This is an erroneous view. We are 
 instinctively forced to be active in the same way as 
 ants or bees. The instinct of workmanship would 
 be the greatest source of development were it not for 
 the fact that our present social and economic organ- 
 ization allows only a few to satisfy this instinct. 
 Robert Meyer has pointed out that any successful 
 display or setting free of energy is a source of pleas- 
 ure to us. This is the reason why the satisfaction of 
 the instinct of workmanship is of such importance 
 in the economy of life, for the play and learning of 
 
 188 
 
THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 189 
 
 the child, as well as for the scientific or commercial 
 work of the man. 
 
 Irrespective of wants and the efforts to gratify 
 them, agreeable sensations accompany muscular 
 exercise. It is necessary to promote a free flow of 
 blood and the nutrition and development of the 
 body. Given a healthy body with inducements for 
 action and opportunities for rest and you have the 
 elements of a happy existence. The spontaneous 
 tendency of our bodies to action is accountable to a 
 great degree for our muscular development. 
 
 Then there is the additional element of want. 
 Man has learned that the earth does not supply him 
 with a sufficiency of spontaneous food and clothing. 
 He must work. The necessity for this is early 
 apparent. This is not only necessary to life, but is 
 a benefit beside. A benefit to his physical being — it 
 gives exercise to his frame and development to mus- 
 cles, and stimulus to his mind. W^ithout these things, 
 he would be a poor dwarf. 
 
 "If the earth yielded harvests of its own accord, 
 if the forests produced an abundance of all fruits, 
 there would be no agriculture. If the climate were 
 always absolutely suited to the comforts of man- 
 kind, there would be no need of houses. If tools of 
 all kinds grew^ upon trees, or shoes fell from heaven 
 once a year, we should have no wants; we should 
 need no trades ; we should be living in a state of ideal 
 perfection." 
 
 What distinguishes our world from such a 
 dreamland is the obstacles and the labor made neces- 
 sary by them. Now, no one can doubt that our own 
 world is more adapted to our natures, constituted as 
 they are, than such an ideal world. 
 
 The work that is necessary to gratify the wants 
 of man affords him necessary occupation. With 
 most men, by the time his wants are satisfied and the 
 wants of his family, and a little something is laid 
 
liK) THE WORLD IVU LlVli IN 
 
 aside for a rainy day, there is not much time left 
 for other things, except to rest for another day. 
 And so it goes with most men, day in and day out, 
 until death closes the scene. In the meantime, the 
 only comfort he knows is that of developing himself 
 and of rearing a family. 
 
 Then there are the educating influences of his 
 labor. The making of a hut, the stitching together 
 of a garment, the cooking of his food, and making 
 tools, all have a developing effect upon the mind. 
 
 And then the thought of ownership is developed. 
 The sense of ownership begins away back in life. 
 In the second year of life the child begins to say 
 my, and manifests the importance of this word. The 
 savage learns it in a measure by experience. He 
 learns that by eating up all the food there is on 
 hand when food is scarce, he may be forced to suffer 
 the pains of hunger for days together. He learns 
 slowly the importance of deferring one enjoyment 
 that a greater one may be held in store for the 
 future. He finds in the struggle for life it stands 
 him in hand to look ahead and accumulate some- 
 thing. 
 
 This desire for accumulating something is one 
 of the elements of our nature, and plays an imiport- 
 ant role in the world. It fosters self-control, for 
 instance. Were it not for the love of ovvnership, 
 there would be danger of anarchy instead of law 
 and order. Were it not for the strong hope of own- 
 ing something, which exists in the bosom of man, 
 however it came there, and were it not for the 
 knowledge that behavior and good government 
 favored the stability of property rights, many men 
 would turn themselves loose as agents of destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 The idea that we can help to improve the world, 
 that is, make it a better place for man to live in, is 
 an important idea, and opens up a new channel for 
 
THB WORLD WB LIVE IN 191 
 
 thought and labor. The earth as God left it and as 
 man has added to it are two different things. Who- 
 ever has cleared a patch of ground, tilled a field, 
 made a road, built a house, planted a tree, or sowed 
 out a lawn, has done something to beautify the 
 planet, making it more attractive. 
 
 But is the earth adapted for the development of 
 man's moral nature? Does not the existence of 
 moral evil in the world interfere with the develop- 
 ment of his moral nature? Could not and should 
 not moral evil have been eliminated or left out? ''I 
 believe," so says Professor Paulsen, of the Uni- 
 versity of Berlin, ''that we must answer the question 
 in the negative." Erroneously though it may sound, 
 moral evil, too, is in a certain sense necessary. If 
 it were wholly eliminated, human life would lack 
 an indispensable element. It may be shown that 
 life demands the very conditions under which it 
 actually exists. Take away all evils, and you abolish 
 life itself. Evil remains evil none the less, but it 
 is not a thing that ought absolutely, not to be. It 
 must be, not for its own sake, however, but for the 
 sake of the good. We cannot conceive of the pos- 
 sibility of exterminating evil without at the same 
 time striking at the good. 
 
 But not only is the potential evil in our own 
 nature an indispensible means of realizing the good, 
 but the actual evil outside of us is the same; in 
 battling against it, virtue grows strong; injustice 
 arouses in the spectator or victim the idea of the 
 right and the sense of justice; falsehood and deceit 
 make truth and veracity valuable ; in short, we first 
 become conscious of the true worth of goodness 
 through evil. 
 
 All the great heroes of humanity became what 
 they were only by struggling with evil. 
 
 Hence, if we eliminate all evil from history, we 
 at the same time eliminate the conflict of the good 
 
luii run world wl uru in 
 
 with evil and lose the highest and grandest posses- 
 sion of humanity — moral heroism. Hence, good- 
 ness can thri\e and grow strong upon earth only in 
 the struggle for existence with evil. We cannot 
 e\'en imagine a history without such opposites. But 
 shall we, in acknowledging the necessity of evil, also 
 recognize it as one of the legitimate constituents of 
 reality, equal in value to the rest. That is not my 
 meaning. The evil has no value whatever as such, 
 and no claim to existence. It exists only for the 
 sake of the good, to enable it to act and realize itself. 
 It is a negative quantity, valueless as such; it 
 receives a kind of power and reality only through its 
 opposite — the good. But the point comes up, can 
 that which is evil be made to promote good without 
 itself becoming good? We answer, yes. There is 
 murder, for instance, which is always, and under all 
 circumstances, evil, and yet the state makes use of 
 it to prevent other murders, which does not make it 
 good. 
 
 The impulse to combat evil does not spring from 
 a conception of a perfect state to be realized by the 
 conflict, but from the feeling aroused by the pressure 
 of the particular evil at hand. 
 
 The general belief, that the satisfaction of every 
 need, the removal of every evil will invariably be 
 followed by new ones, will neither hinder action nor 
 weaken its effects. Even if we should be convinced 
 that want and misery, injustice and falsehood will 
 exist, world without end, w^e shall not cease com- 
 bating them wherever they show themselves. And 
 this is as it should be; the struggle can never be 
 absolutely ineffectual. One result is bound to fol- 
 low under all circumstances : Our antagonism 
 places us in the ranks of those who are fighting for 
 the good and right. 
 
 The immediate and real purpose of every human 
 being is not to obtain happiness for the human race. 
 
THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 193 
 
 but to live his own life worthily, and this end he can 
 realize under all conditions. The important thing 
 to the man of action is that he do the right. Who- 
 ever meekly succumbs to evil as to something that 
 cannot be overcome will surely be overcome by it ; 
 inaction is followed by discouragement and weari- 
 ness. So soon, however, as a man begins to defend 
 himself, he becomes conscious of his own activity 
 and strength, and feels that the evil which he is 
 attacking recedes. The satisfaction thus experienced 
 by him is not destroyed by the thought that another 
 evil may take the place of the vanquished one. 
 
 The proper use, therefore, which we should 
 make of evil and w^ickedness is this : We should 
 antagonize it honestly and energetically and make 
 it a means of our ow^n perfection, and so far as we 
 can of that of others. 
 
 We do not say these considerations are a suffi- 
 cient justification for the existence of evil, but that 
 they should mitigate the harshness of our criticisms 
 of the author of it, for the reason that the wdiole of 
 it, for aught we know, was a necessity. Anyway, 
 without obstacles to call forth muscular exertion, in 
 strength, we w^ould be babes; without ignorance, 
 requiring mental efforts, we would be imbeciles, and 
 without the bad to combat, in moral character, we 
 would be dwarfs. Evil, then, is a reform school for 
 the development of our powers. 
 
 Paulsen, in making an attempt to justify the evil 
 in the world says : "Of course, we cannot prove 
 that the world as it exists is absolutely good, or even 
 that it is the best of possible worlds; but we can 
 endeavor to say what it is for us." And it may, in 
 my opinion, be shown that the universe, as it is, is 
 essentially adapted to our natures. The world has 
 developed us, therefore it is adapted to us and we 
 to it; if not, we would not survive. 
 
 According to scientists, it has been a long time 
 
194 THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 
 
 at it — millions of years — so say scientists and so say 
 many theologians, and if there be anything in our 
 adjustment of ourselves to our surroundings, by this 
 time we ought to be thoroughly adjusted to them, 
 and especially since, according to evolutionists, we 
 have been undergoing this adjustment from the low- 
 est forms of life. The earth has undergone a great 
 many changes, rendering it more and more habit- 
 able, and so has man. These changes in man have 
 been in conforming, moulding and modifyinp- him- 
 self to suit the earth. These have been going on for 
 ages, and have been transmitted to us by inheritance. 
 We can hardly conceive the condition of man if 
 these changes were left out. These changes include 
 the works of man himself, such as inventions and 
 manufactures, and his changes of mind and morals 
 so as to adapt himself better to the conditions of 
 earth. Acquiring these modifications through inheri- 
 tance, we are indebted not only to the Creator 
 but to our fellow men for ages back, and it is a 
 question, on the whole, whether a more suitable 
 world were possible. If we could only realize this 
 fact, instead of trying to find some one to blame, 
 when fortune does not use us kindly, or when things 
 seem to go wrong, contentment would reign in our 
 bosoms, and particularly if we could realize that 
 we, being what we are, could have any use for or 
 tolerate a world differently constituted. 
 
The Problem of Poverty 
 
 In 1892 a group of the most prominent sociolo- 
 gists (fifteen in number) contributed papers on the 
 problem of poverty, of which this paper is a digest, 
 largely made up by Rev. Washington Gladden, of 
 England. 
 
 STUDIES OF POVERTY 
 
 It ought to be possible to ascertain pretty accu- 
 rately the conditions under which our neighbors of 
 the less fortunate classes are living. Such is the 
 conclusion to which a few wise men in this genera- 
 tion have lately come, and we have, as a result, sev- 
 eral studies of poverty by which our judgment of 
 this difficult subject may be greatly assisted. 
 
 Mr. Jacob Riis has undertaken to tell us ''How 
 the Other Half Lives" in the city of New York. The 
 book gives us, in a series of vivid pictures, a good 
 idea of the sinking circles of that inferno, whose 
 gates stand open every day before the eyes of the 
 dwellers in New York. 
 
 Mrs. Helen Cambell's ''Prisoners of Poverty" 
 is another series of sketches of life among the work- 
 ing women of New York, by which much light is 
 thrown upon their dark problem. Certain phases of 
 the subject reveal themselves most clearly to a 
 woman's insight. 
 
 The Rev. L. A. Banks, in a number of popular 
 discourses delivered in Boston, and lately published, 
 has made rather a startling picture of the condition 
 of the "white slave" of the metropolis of New Eng- 
 land. 
 
 195 
 
196 THE PROBLliM Of POVERTY 
 
 Mr. Charles Booth (who must not be con- 
 founded with the head of the Salvation Army) has 
 entered upon a work which affords a pattern for an 
 inxestigation ; which work is entitled, "Labor and 
 Life of the People." His investigations were con- 
 fined chiefiy to London. He caused to be made a 
 thorough house-to-house and street-to-street investi- 
 gation of that whole vast metropolitan area ; he has 
 gathered his facts from various sources, and has 
 diligently compared and compiled them ; he has 
 given to the world a statement, the fullness and 
 colorless accuracy of which must impress every 
 intelligent reader. The magnitude of his undertak- 
 ing can scarce be imagined. Yet all may see that 
 the work has been done w-ith tact and judgment. So 
 that philanthropists and legislators may feel that 
 they have sure ground to go upon. Colored sec- 
 tional maps accompany his volumes, set before the 
 reader graphically the location of the various classes, 
 revealing to the eye the character of the population 
 in every street and square of central London. 
 
 Mr. Booth has had a numerous staff of helpers 
 under his own direction. But in addition to these, 
 he has been able to make use of the wdiole of the 
 School Board visitors. Most of the visitors have 
 been \vorking in the same districts for several years, 
 and these have an extensive knowledge of the peo- 
 ple. They are in daily contact w'ith them, and have 
 a very considerable knowledge of the parents of the 
 poor children, especially of the poorest among them, 
 and of the conditions under wdiich they live. No 
 one says he ''can go over the descriptions as I have 
 done and doubt the genuine character of the inform- 
 ation. Beside these, the Local Government Board, 
 the Board of Guardians of the Poor, the relieving 
 officers, the police, the Charity Organization 
 Society, the clergy, and the many bodies of lay 
 workers among the poor have aided me effectually." 
 
THB PROBLEM OF POVBRTY 197 
 
 Concerning the number of the lowest class, 
 which are occasional laborers, loafers and semi- 
 criminals, it is some relief to believe that this dis- 
 orderly and dangerous class in a city like London 
 constitute only nine-tenths of one per cent of the 
 population — nine persons in a thousand. 
 
 The fact that thirty persons in every hundred of 
 that vast population are living below the line of 
 comfort may well furnish food for meditation. The 
 admission that thirty per cent of our neighbors are 
 in poverty is one that none of us is willing to make. 
 
 W^ould this be true of New York or Boston ? It 
 is impossible to say. Some of the experts who are 
 thoroughly familiar with the worst of London tell 
 us that they have found worse conditions in some of 
 our American cities than any they have seen at home. 
 If it be true, as all investigations indicate, that the 
 greatest poverty is apt to be found in the densest 
 population, then the bad eminence must be assigned 
 to New York; for while the most populous acre of 
 London holds only 307 inhabitants, we have, accord- 
 ing to the census, in the Eleventh ward of New York 
 386 to the acre; in the Thirteenth ward, 428, and 
 in the Tenth ward 522. The death rate of the two 
 cities is also greatly in favor of London, for while 
 in 1889 there were in that city 17.4 deaths to 
 every 1,000 of population, in New York the rate 
 was 25.19. 
 
 CAUSES OF POVERTY 
 
 Of the first three lowest classes, there were taken 
 4,076 families well known to the School Board 
 Visitors, and their cases were analyzed with a view 
 of ascertaining the reasons why they are in poverty. 
 It will be a surprise to many that, out of these 4,076 
 cases of destitution, only 553 or 13^ per cent are 
 reported as chiefly due to drink. I suppose that the 
 great majority of those who attempt to account for 
 poverty would say that 80 or 90 per cent of it could 
 
 14- 
 
198 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 
 
 be traced to this course. The fact that this careful 
 investigation of Mr. Booth makes drink the principal 
 cause in less than 14 per cent of the cases may well 
 lessen somewhat the feeling of complacency with 
 which the w^ell-to-do citizen is often inclined to look 
 upon the spectacle of poverty. While intemperance 
 is a great cause of poverty, it is not certainly the 
 chief cause. Indeed, in a great multitude of cases 
 it is the effect rather than the cause of poverty. 
 
 THE ENVIRONMENT 
 
 The other causes of poverty need to be carefully 
 studied. Ill health and physical debility are some- 
 times due to vice, but they are also due, in a very 
 large measure, to the conditions under which these 
 poor people are compelled to live. Anyone who will 
 traverse the narrow and filthy alleys in certain neigh- 
 borhoods of East London, or those just south of 
 Holborn, in the very heart of the great metropolis, 
 noting the dark, forlorn, miserable apartments which 
 serve as human habitations, or who will follow Mr. 
 Riis in his explorations through Baxter street and 
 Mulberry street, in New York, will understand why 
 the people who live in such quarters should be irregu- 
 larly employed, and why their wages should be low. 
 
 It is simply impossible that laborers wdio get so 
 little daylight in their dwellings, and who have so 
 little fresh air to breathe, should have the physical 
 vigor to work continuously and to earn good wages. 
 And the moral as well as the physical qualifications 
 of the efficient workers are sure to be wanting. 
 
 How can men and women who are huddled 
 together in such horrible closeness in such dreadful 
 dens possess the self-respect, the hope, the courage, 
 the enterprise, which are the best part of the equip- 
 ment for every kind of work ? The lowering of the 
 physical and moral tone of the denizens of such 
 dwellings is as inevitable as fate. Much of the time 
 
THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 199 
 
 they will not be fit to work ; when they do work they 
 will be languid and slow ; they will be the last hands 
 taken on in the busy times, and the first ones dis- 
 charged in slack times ; that their wages will be low 
 needs no demonstration. The point to be noted, that 
 once down to this level, the conditions become the 
 cause of poverty. If some of these people are here 
 because they are poor, all of them are poor because 
 they are here. 
 
 These people work for the lowest wages. It 
 might be supposed that they would, therefore, be 
 more likely to obtain employment. But this is not 
 true, for, as a rule, they are the dearest laborers that 
 the employer can hire, simply because of their 
 untrustworthiness and inefficiency. Low paid labor 
 is often the most expensive to the employer. 
 
 INDOLENCE AND IMPROVIDENCE 
 
 The unemployed or the irregularly employed are 
 often the victims of their own indolence or incapac- 
 ity. We find a goodly number of those whose indis- 
 position is due to character more than to environ- 
 ment — persons who would not work if their health 
 were perfect and all the conditions were favorable. 
 The existence of this class is demonstrated whenever 
 the work-test is effectively applied to the tramps 
 perambulating our streets. The great majority of 
 these gentry will shun the towns where lodging and 
 breakfast may be earned by an hour or two of labor 
 in the morning in favor of the towns where they can 
 sleep without charge on the floor of the station-house, 
 and beg their food from door to door. 
 
 Family burdens are among the causes of poverty 
 discovered in this analysis. Some of the households 
 are pinched because of the number of small children. 
 And one clear result of this census is to establish the 
 fact that the families are largest in the poorest dis- 
 
200 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 
 
 t riots. Such is precisely the fact in our own country, 
 as most of us are aware. 
 
 Here, again, we have a cause of poverty which is 
 also an effect of poverty. 
 
 ECONOMIC CONDITIONS 
 
 The modern system of industry will not work 
 without some unemployed margin. Some employers 
 seem to think that this state of things is to their 
 interest. The industrial machinery moves with great 
 irregularity. Cycles and crises seem to occur with a 
 periodicity which can be roughly calculated, and in 
 almost every branch of business there is a busy sea- 
 son when all the machinery is driven to the top of 
 its speed, and a dull season when production is 
 greatly reduced. 
 
 Unless there is an industrial reserve on which 
 they can call in driving times, the capitalist cannot 
 meet the spasdomic demand, and must fail to secure 
 their customary profits. Therefore, the modern 
 industrial system contemplates irregularity of 
 employment on the part of many. It expects to find, 
 at any given moment, a small army of men standing 
 idle in the market place. It makes provision, there- 
 fore, in all its plans and estimates, for a certain 
 amount of poverty. This is not a pleasant fact to 
 contemplate, but it is hard to say what can be done 
 about it; moreover labor deteriorates under casual 
 employment more than its price falls. 
 
 CHARITY AS A CAUSE OF POVERTY 
 
 The effect of indiscriminate charity in breeding 
 poverty must also be taken into account. The Lord 
 Mayor's fund of $350,000, which was flung out, by 
 a charitable impulse, to the poor of East London a 
 few winters ago, caused far more poverty than it 
 cured. Many who w^ere getting along fairly well 
 without it left their w^ork to depend on this fund. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 201 
 
 and not only forfeited their self-respect, but sadly 
 demoralized themselves by the deceit which they 
 practiced in getting it. ''The tendency of the fund," 
 wrote one, shortly after its distribution, ''has been 
 to create a trust in lies." The effect of this distribu- 
 tion upon the applicants at large was this : the 
 foundation of such independence of character as 
 they possessed has been shaken, and some of them 
 have taken the first step in mendacity, which is too 
 often never retraced. So that a large share of our 
 well-meant charities is the increase of pauprism. 
 
 CITY AND COUNTRY 
 
 Poverty nests in the cities and the influx of popu- 
 lation from the country to the city is a phenomenon 
 worth studying. This immigration can be accounted 
 for in part by the superior attractiveness of town 
 life. The movement and stir of the city, the sights 
 and sensations of the streets, powerfully allure the 
 young men and women of the rural districts, who 
 find life on the farm monotonous and tame. "Noth- 
 ing is going on in the country." The higher wages 
 of labor in London are the chief attraction to coun- 
 trymen. Healthy lads and men coming from the 
 rural districts into the metropolis will be given the 
 preference in many employments over city-bred 
 laborers, because they are, as a rule, stronger and 
 more trustworthy. The countrymen drawn in are 
 mainly the cream of the country, and they usually 
 get the pick of its posts. After a generation or two, 
 many of these robust laborers begin to drop down 
 in the labor scale ; their superiority is lost, and their 
 places are filled by fresh levies upon the country. 
 
 IMMIGRATION 
 
 Whatever may be true of London, it is probable 
 that a large share of the poverty of the American 
 cities is due to the influx of helpless and degraded 
 
202 THE PROBLUM OF POVliRTY 
 
 people from other countries. London draws into 
 its insatiate maw the vigor of the country and 
 impoverishes it. New York and Boston are them- 
 selves largely impoverished by the immigration of 
 multitudes whose standard of comfort is far below 
 that of our own people, and who help to drag the 
 natives down to their own level. The American 
 policy seems to be to prevent the pauper labor of 
 foreign countries from competing on its own ground 
 with American labor, but to open the doors as 
 widely as possible for this "pauper labor" to come 
 to America and depress our own labor market by 
 its desperate competition. 
 
 THE GREED OF THE LANDLORD 
 
 I shall name but one other cause of poverty in 
 cities, and that is the exorbitance of rents. Owing 
 to the good will and wnse statesmanship in London, 
 workingmen's rents in that city are far lower than 
 in New York and in Boston. It is probable that the 
 very poor of New York pay more per cubic yard 
 for the squalid quarters they occupy than do the 
 dwellers on the fashionable streets for their salubri- 
 ous and attractive homes. At any rate, the revenues 
 derived by the landlords from this kind of property 
 are far greater than those received for the most 
 costly buildings. It is held by those who know that 
 the percentage very rarely falls below fifteen and 
 frequently exceeds thirty. 
 
 The growth of pauperism, if not of poverty, 
 seems to be due to the decay of two old-fashioned 
 social virtues. One of these is family affection. The 
 individualism of the last half century has weakened 
 the family. There has been so much talk of men's 
 rights and women's rights and children's rights that 
 the mutual and reciprocal duties and obligations of 
 the family have come to be undervalued. Families 
 do not cling together quite so closely as once they 
 
THB PROBLEM OF POVERTY 203 
 
 did. For this reason, many persons who ought to 
 be cared for by their own kindred become a charge 
 upon the pubhc. The shame of permitting one's 
 flesh and blood to become paupers ought to be 
 brought home to every man and woman who thus 
 casts off natural obligations. 
 
 "The other old-fashioned virtue to which I 
 refer," so says Mr. Gladden, ''is the manly inde- 
 pendence which is the substratum of all sound char- 
 acter." Why this virtue is decaying, there is no time 
 now to inquire. We fear that the effect of the 
 Stratton Home, if ever it is built, would be injurious 
 in this particular that it would pauperize a multitude 
 by taking away their independence and fastening a 
 spirit of dependence on such an institution. Take 
 away a man's independence and you render him 
 worthless. To whatever cause the decay of inde- 
 pendence may be attributed, the loss is a very seri- 
 ous one; and those wdio labor for the removal of 
 the evils of poverty and pauperism may well remem- 
 ber that the foundation of all sound social structure 
 is the sentiment of self-help and the just pride that 
 would rather live upon a crust honestly earned than 
 feast, as a dependent, on any man's bounty. 
 
 Mr., Gladden aims to set forth, tentatively, some 
 remedies for poverty, most of which are question- 
 able. Upon one, the value of which is not included 
 in the category of the questionable, I wall lay great 
 emphasis, and that is training of the children. 
 Escape from the toils of penury might be offered to 
 some, by furnishing a more practical education to 
 the children of the poor. Some elementary indus- 
 trial training would enlarge the resources of these 
 boys and girls and might prevent many of them 
 from dropping down into the lowest grades of labor, 
 where the struggle is severest. Especially would a 
 little practical training in domestic economy be use- 
 ful to the girls of this class. Most of them are 
 
204 run PROBLEM OF POVERTY 
 
 destined to be wives and mothers, and the question 
 whether the household shall live in pinched want or 
 in comparative comfort often depends on the skill 
 and thrift of the wife and mother. 
 
 ABANDON OUT-OF-DOOR RELIEF 
 
 Among the students of this problem the aboli- 
 tion of public out-of-door relief is, however, 
 scarcely an open question. It is simply impossible 
 that our overseers of the poor should intelligently 
 administer relief to the multitude of applicants daily 
 appearing before them. Imposture flourishes under 
 such a system, and the dependent classes are stead- 
 ily recruited. Therefore it would be infinitely better 
 if the state would give no relief except in its alms- 
 houses and children's homes, leaving all the out-of- 
 door to be dispensed by private charity. A few of 
 our cities have tried this experiment with the most 
 gratifying results. 
 
 Xot long since. President Eliot, of Harvard, 
 addressed a large meeting of laboring men of Bos- 
 ton. His subject was, "What modifications of exist- 
 ing labor conditions will tend toward permanent 
 industrial peace and be absolutely consistent with 
 the democratic ideal of liberty?" His headings 
 were : "Steadiness of employment is reasonably 
 desired by both the workman and the employer. The 
 instant dismissal of the laborer by the employer, 
 except for the clearest reasons, is brutal and incon- 
 sistent with considerate relations between labor and 
 capital." Secondly, "Another common need for 
 workmen and employers is that condition of labor 
 which permits the laborer to have a settled place of 
 abode. A wandering population can hardly be a 
 civilized one." Thirdly, "It is desirable to give the 
 w^orkmen two things which they now but rarely 
 obtain — first, a voice in the discipline of the w^orks, 
 including that very important part of discipline, the 
 
THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 205 
 
 dealing with complaints; and, secondly, a direct 
 pecuniary interest besides wages in the proceeds of 
 the combined application of the capital and the labor 
 to the steady production of salable goods." 
 
 Laboring men, almost unanimously, believe that 
 the faithful and industrious workman who works 
 for years in the same industrial establishment has 
 earned something more than the wages paid him. 
 They recognize the fact that only the settled or 
 reasonably permanent workman has any claim on 
 this intelligible and yet real something. 
 
 "Looking back," said he, ''on my own working 
 life, spent in the service of a single institution, I see 
 clearly what a happy privilege it is to give unstinted 
 service to an undying institution in whose perma- 
 nent and enlarging serviceableness one ardently 
 believes. 
 
 'The demand for larger wages," so says the 
 commentator, "or lessened hours is sometimes made 
 when the conditions of the industry do not justify 
 it, but back of that demand is an ill-defined convic- 
 tion on the part of the workingman that he has a 
 right to some share in the profits of business, which, 
 so long as he be kept in ignorance of the facts by 
 his employer, he is only too apt to exaggerate. This 
 involves a recognition by both employer and 
 employed of the idea that they are partners in a 
 common industrial enterprise, and that this partner- 
 ship gives to each some voice in the control of the 
 business, some knowledge of its afTairs, and some 
 share in its profits." 
 
 This may be very good doctrine in large enter- 
 prises, but could hardly apply to small and tem- 
 porary ones. 
 
 Mr. Eliot used one word in his address which 
 deserves further consideration in this connection, 
 and that word is "liberty." Surely the conflict of 
 labor and capital can go on without interfering with 
 
20(5 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 
 
 the liberty of any one. When it comes to infringing 
 upon the hberty, whatever benefits may accompany 
 the act on either side, there is something wrong 
 somewhere and somehow. Liberty is especially 
 infringed upon when the laboring man is hindered 
 or prevented from working by other laboring men, 
 be he non-union or what not. 
 
 If one has a right to live, he has the inherent 
 right to work to obtain the means of living. Just 
 as well murder him outright as prevent him work- 
 ing for a living. 
 
 No laboring man has a right to injure or destroy 
 capital, for capital is but stored-up labor. Neither 
 has capital the right to cripple or interfere with 
 labor, for labor is the creator of capital to a large 
 extent. 
 
 Nor under the constitution of our state has the 
 government the right to injure labor by deporting 
 the laboring men outside of its borders, as was the 
 case under the administration of Governor Peabody. 
 Surely men can be made to behave themselves in 
 this civilized age by enforcing the law without such 
 a barbarous measure as deportation. If there be 
 any truth in the theory of evolution as taught by 
 its greatest apostle, Herbert Spencer, that all things 
 are growing better, more perfect, on the whole, 
 although there are times when such does not seem 
 to be the case, this conflict of labor and capital will 
 be compromised by the yielding of both in a meas- 
 ure. The frequent failure of modern labor strikes 
 only seem to presage that day. At least we are 
 among those who look upon the bright side of the 
 problem. 
 
Some Charaders of Animals Which 
 Are Common to Man 
 
 First, intelligence. Mr. John Burroughs, who 
 has a small farm in the back-woods of the state of 
 New York, has spent a great deal of time in the 
 study and writing up of the habits of animals ; but, 
 doubtless, the animals he studied had not come in 
 contact with man to any great extent, for he greatly 
 depreciates their intelligence. He seems given to a 
 bent in that direction. 
 
 To show the grotesque ignorance of some ani- 
 mals, an instance is given by him of a cow cited by 
 Hamerton, which would not give down her milk 
 unless she had her calf before her. 
 
 ''But her calf had died, so the herdsman took the 
 skin of the calf and stuffed it with hay, and stood it 
 up before her. Instantly she proceeded to lick it and 
 to yield her milk. One day, in licking it, she ripped 
 open the seam, and out rolled the hay. This at once 
 the mother proceeded to eat, without a look of sur- 
 prise or alarm." 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Romanes has written a 
 large book upon animal intelligence, in which he 
 takes the opposite view, doubtless because, to some 
 extent he is an evolutionist. In this he shows the 
 oneness of mind in man and other animals. "His 
 definition of mind is the power of learning — the 
 capacity of improving by experience." He cites 
 many examples, from the snail up to the monkey, to 
 prove this capacity. 
 
 2(fl 
 
208 CIIARACrilRISTICS OP ANIMALS 
 
 Jn our pony and dog shows and in manageries 
 we have all witnessed the remarkable intelligence of 
 dogs, horses, seals, elephants and other animals. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP AMONG ANIMALS 
 
 I will cite some cases of queer animal friendships. 
 \\\\y married folk so ill-mated as to agree only to 
 differ should be said to lead a cat-and-dog life is not 
 very clear, since those household pets, being affec- 
 tionate, cheerful and sociable creatures, very fre- 
 quently continue to live harmoniously together. The 
 Aston cat, that ate, associated and slept with a huge 
 blood hound, only did w^hat innumerable cats have 
 done. Many equine celebrities have delighted in 
 feline companions, following in this the example of 
 their notable ancestor, the Godolphin Arab, betw^een 
 whom and a black cat an intimate friendship existed 
 for years, a friendship that came to a touching end ; 
 for when that famous steed died, the cat refused to 
 be comforted, but pined aw^ay and died also. 
 
 Lemmery shut up a cat and several mice together 
 in a cage. The mice in time got to be very friendly, 
 and plucked and nibbled at their feline friend. When 
 any of them grew troublesome, she W'Ould gently box 
 their ears. 
 
 A pair of carriage horses taken to water at a 
 stone trough were followed by a dog who was in 
 the habit of lying in the stall of one of them. As 
 he gamboled on in front, the creature w^as suddenly 
 attacked by a mastiff far too strong for his power of 
 resistance, and it would have gone hard with him 
 but for the unlooked-for intervention of his stable 
 companion, which, breaking loose from the man who 
 w^as leading it, made for the battling dogs, and with 
 one well-delivered kick sent the mastiff into a cellar, 
 and then quietly returned to the trough and finished 
 his drink. 
 
 When Cowper cautiously introduced a hare that 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 209 
 
 had never seen a spaniel to a dog of this breed that 
 had never seen a hare, he discovered no token of fear 
 in the one, no sign of hostihty in the other, and the 
 new acquaintances were soon in all respects sociable 
 and friendly — a proof, the poet thought, that there 
 was no natural antipathy between dog and hare. 
 
 Says one in Chambers' Journal, to which maga- 
 zine I am greatly indebted for the above illustrations 
 of animal friendship : "The last time we visited the 
 lion house, we watched, with no little amusement, 
 the antics of a dog, who w^as evidently quite at home 
 in a cage occupied by a tiger and tigeress. The noble 
 pair of beasts were reclining side by side, the tiger's 
 tail hanging over the side of the couch. The dog, 
 unable to resist the temptation, laid hold of it with 
 its teeth and pulled with a will, in spite of sundry 
 remonstrances on the part of the owner of the tail, 
 until he elicited a deep growl of disapproval. Then 
 he let go, sprang upon the tiger's side, curled him- 
 self up and went to sleep. 
 
 THE MORAL SENSE OF THE LOWER ANIMALS 
 
 All the definitions of the moral sense apply to 
 an equivocal mental attribute in the lower animals. 
 Thus the moral sense in man has been defined by 
 different authors to be or to include : 
 
 First — "A knowledge, appreciation or sense of 
 a "Right and wrong. 
 "Good and evil. 
 c "Justice and injustice. 
 
 Second — "Conscience, involving feelings of 
 approbation, or the reverse in relation to ideas of 
 right and wrong. 
 
 Third — "The approval of what is conducive to 
 well-being, and the disapproval of the reverse. 
 
 Fourth — "A sense of duty and of moral obliga- 
 tion. 
 
210 CHARACrilRISriCS OF ANIMALS 
 
 Fifth — "Appreciation of the results of honesty 
 and dishonesty. 
 
 Sixth — ''Virtue or virtuousness, including espe- 
 cially such moral virtues as consciousness, scrupul- 
 ousness, integrity, compassion, benevolence, fidelity, 
 charity, mercy, magninimity, disinterestedness and 
 modesty." 
 
 There is not one of these moral qualities that is 
 not possessed sometimes in a high degree by certain 
 of the lower animals, and more especially the dog. 
 
 There are many authors who are willing to grant 
 them morality akin to that of man; high authorities 
 at that, such as Agassiz, Froude and Shaftbury. The 
 dog, at least, frequently exhibits a knowledge of 
 right and wTong, making a deliberate choice of the 
 one or the other, perfectly aware of and prepared 
 for the consequences of such a selection. The animal 
 has occasionally the moral courage to choose the 
 right and to suffer for it, to fear wrong rather than 
 do it. One of the evidences is that it looks at once 
 for some sign of his master's approbation. 
 
 Temptation frequently begets in the dog, cat and 
 other animals some kind of mental or moral agita- 
 tion, and the same sort of result, as in man. Some- 
 times we can see, in the dog, for instance, the whole 
 play of the animal's mind — the battle between its 
 virtuous and vicious propensities, its promptings to 
 the right and its endeavors to stick to the right; its 
 longing for the wrong, for the tit-bit which it knows 
 it would be wrong to steal — and the final triumph 
 either of virtue or temptation. But in the dog, cat 
 and other animals, the wrong-doing is accompanied 
 by a perfect consciousness of the nature of their 
 behavior. They are quite aware of being engaged 
 in actions that will bring inevitable punishment, 
 which penalty, moreover, they are sensible they 
 deserve. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 211 
 
 "Abundant evidence of a consciousness of wrong- 
 doing is to be found either generally in the 
 
 First — ''Pricks, stings, or pangs of conscience. 
 
 Second — ''The various expressions of a sense of 
 guilt, for instance, the 
 a "Sneaking gait, 
 h "Depressed head, ears and tail, 
 c "Temporary disappearance, 
 d "Permanent absconding. 
 
 Third — ^"The multiform exhibition of contrition, 
 regret, repentance, self-reproach, remorse. 
 Or more specially in the 
 
 Fourth — "Efforts at reconciliation and pardon. 
 
 Fifth — "Various forms of making atonement. 
 
 Sixth — "Concealment of crime or its proofs. 
 
 "Conscience is frequently as severe a monitor in 
 other animals as in man ; its reproaches as stinging 
 and as hard to be borne; its torments sometimes 
 intolerable." 
 
 We may speak quite correctly, for instance, of 
 the conscience-stricken animal thief — the cat or 
 dog — caught in the act of pilfering from the larder. 
 A female dog having once eaten a quantity of 
 shrimps intended for her master's dinner sauce, had 
 only to be asked ever after, "Who stole the shrimps?" 
 to cause her to take to ignominous flight, ears and 
 tail down, going to bed, refusing to be comforted, 
 the picture of shame and remorse. 
 
 A young dog having committed some offense 
 against the established rules of its master's house- 
 hold, "after we had shaken our heads at him and 
 turned away, although he must have been very hun- 
 gry, would not touch his food, but sat close to the 
 door whining and crying, till we made up with him 
 by telling him he was forgiven, and taking his offered 
 paw, when he ate his supper and went quietly to 
 bed." 
 
212 LllARACTERlSriCS Of ANIMALS 
 
 Various animals resent and revenge the wrongs 
 committed by man not only on themselves or their 
 fellows, but even on brother man ; and this sense of 
 wrong or injury indicted upon others leads some- 
 times to their defense of man against his fellow 
 man. 
 
 A case happened recently in Ireland of a pet cow- 
 that defended its mistress against the ill-usage of its 
 master, its mistress' husband; and many instances 
 have been recorded of the dog, elephant and horse 
 doing similar kindness to their human favorites. 
 
 The dog, horse, mule, elephant and other animals 
 have frequently a distinct sense, feeling or knowl- 
 edge of duty, trust or task; and this not only as 
 regards their own personal obligation3, but in so far 
 as duty of various kinds is attachable to other indi- 
 viduals of the same species and those of man him- 
 self — when, for instance, such duty of man's has any 
 immediate reference to or connection with them- 
 selves. 
 
 The working elephant, for instance, requires that 
 the nature of its work should be explained to it, to 
 as great an extent as possible demonstratively by 
 illustration. It very quickly and readily compre- 
 hends what it is that man wishes and expects it to do, 
 and it very soon learns to execute its task without 
 supervision, bringing to the discharge of its duty 
 much zeal and obvious dread of failure. 
 
 The dog frequently makes duty and its discharge 
 paramount to all other considerations. To it are 
 sacrificed even revenge, on the one hand, or tempta- 
 tions to the pursuit of game, or to access to food, on 
 the other. Death itself is sometimes preferred to 
 the desertion of a trust or charge. When on duty, 
 a dog intrusted with a message from a master very 
 literally places "business before pleasure;" its self- 
 control may even prevent desirable or necessary self- 
 defense. It has to be remarked that the moral vir- 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 213 
 
 tues are illustrated mainly by or in those animals 
 that have directly or indirectly received their moral 
 training from man — such animals as the dog, ele- 
 phant and horse. As a general rule (to which there 
 are exceptions both in man and other animals) the 
 human child and the young animg.1 can equally be 
 educated both to distinguish and to do the right. 
 
 And yet, notwithstanding these wonderful char- 
 acteristics, animals, as well as men, are guilty of 
 various crimes which is favorable to the doctrine of 
 evolution and the oneness of mind. 
 
 CRIME AMONG ANIMALS 
 
 The gulf which philosophers of former centuries 
 created between men and animals no longer exists, 
 the theory of evolution and mental philosophy having 
 shown that there is no break in the long chain of 
 living beings. No science has been more useful in 
 showing the universal fraternity existing between all 
 living beings than general psycology; no discovery 
 made by the human mind has been so great as that 
 which has led man to recognize a part of himself 
 throughout the whole realm of nature, even in the 
 humblest of animals. If there be any truth in the 
 doctrine of evolution, from what we know of the 
 higher animals, their noble traits, their docility, their 
 patience and their affection, we would not, from this 
 source of information, expect man to be totally 
 depraved, totally devoid of good qualities. Neither 
 would we expect him to be perfect. We would 
 expect him to carry along with him the infirmities 
 and somewhat of the criminality of his ancestors, the 
 lower animals. 
 
 This is why the school of criminal anthropology, 
 founded by Professor Lombroso, the eminent Italian 
 savant, has endeavored to discover in the animal 
 species the origin of the mysterious and terrible 
 phenomenon we call "crime." Nevertheless, many 
 
 15— 
 
214 CJlAKACriiRISnCS Of ANIMALS 
 
 of the examples given by him cannot be regarded as 
 real crimes, as they are solely the result of the strug- 
 gle for existence. Anyway, we shall find that ani- 
 mals do become guilty of real crimes, when, with- 
 out the slightest necessity, they commit actions which 
 are hurtful to their species or companions. Among 
 animals, as among men, there are individuals which 
 are incapable of living and satisfying their wants 
 without doing some harm to their fellows; therefore, 
 they are abnormal and criminal beings, for their 
 actions do not tend to ensure the prosperity of their 
 species. Almost every form and variety of human 
 crime is thus to be found among animals. 
 
 Cases of theft are noticed among bees, for 
 instance. Buchner speaks of thievish bees which, in 
 order to save themselves the trouble of working, 
 attack well-stocked hives in masses, kill the sentinels 
 and the inhabitants, rob the hives, and carry off the 
 provisions. 
 
 ''After repeated enterprises of this description, 
 they acquire a taste for robbery and violence; they 
 recruit whole companies which get more and more 
 numerous, and finally they form regular colonies of 
 brigand-bees. But it is still a more curious fact that 
 these brigand-bees can be produced artificially by giv- 
 ing working-bees a mixture of honey and brandy to 
 drink. The bees soon acquire a taste for this bever- 
 age, which has the same disastrous effect upon them 
 as upon men. They become ill-disposed and irritable, 
 and lose all desire to \vork; and, finally, when they 
 begin to feel hungry, they attack and plunder the 
 well-supplied hives of others." 
 
 There is one variety of bees which lives exclu- 
 sively upon plunder. They may thus be said to be 
 examples of innate and organic criminality among 
 insects, and they represent what Professor Lombroso 
 calls the born criminals — that is, individuals which 
 are led to crime by their own organic constitution. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 215 
 
 Real instances of theft may also be observed 
 among pigeons in the artificial communities formed 
 by dove-cotes. It has been remarked that in almost 
 every dove-cote there are individuals which try to 
 obtain the material necessary to build their nests by 
 extracting it from the heap of straws collected by 
 the others for that purpose; in short, they try to 
 procure what they need at their neighbor's expense, 
 rather than go in search of it themselves. Moreover, 
 these thieves show themselves lazy, idle and bad 
 carriers, flying slowly, and often losing their way, 
 so that they are not to be relied upon. Thus, the 
 same physiological characteristics is to be found 
 among these thieves, as among those of human 
 species — the inability to work. 
 
 Nor is murder wanting among animals : that is 
 to say, not murder such as is caused by the exigencies 
 of the struggle for life, but murder committed under 
 the influence of individual malice or passion. Ani- 
 mals which kill others of their own species are guilty 
 of a true criminal act when they do so for any other 
 reason than that of self-defense. Thus Karl Vogt 
 has observed a couple of storks that had for several 
 years built their nests in a village near Solette. 
 
 "One day it was noticed that when the male was 
 out in search of food, another young bird began to 
 court the female. At first he was repulsed, then tol- 
 erated, and welcomed. At last, one morning the two 
 birds flew away to the field where the husband was 
 hunting for frogs, and killed him." 
 
 According to Riehm, storks often murder the 
 members of the flock which either refuse to follow 
 them at the time of migration or are not able to do 
 so. Parrots will sometimes attack their companions 
 and crush their skulls by repeated blows from their 
 beaks. Houzeau has noticed among man-like mon- 
 keys (especially among the females in menageries) 
 that they treat each other with the greatest cruelty. 
 
210 CUARACTliRlSTICS OP AXJMALS 
 
 and sometimes even kill each other. It is a peculiar 
 feeling of hatred for the individuals of their own sex 
 which often leads them to murder. 
 
 Infanticide is a crime of very frequent occurrence 
 among animals. In almost all zoological species we 
 find females which refuse to be burdened with the 
 bringing up of their young. Sometimes they aban- 
 don, and sometimes they kill them. There is no 
 doubt that these are instances of real criminals. 
 
 Segnior Aluccioli noticed a dove in his dove-cote 
 which "killed the young of every brood by crushing 
 their skulls with her beak." Professor Lombroso 
 has seen a hen which used to make a selection among 
 her young similar to that made by the Spartans — she 
 killed the feeble and lame chicks, and only brought 
 up those which were healthy and strong. 
 
 Crimes caused by mental alienation are also to be 
 found among the more intelligent species — crimes 
 very much like those caused by madness in man. 
 Thus among elephants there are instances in which 
 individuals are seized with a desire to kill other 
 elephants and men, without provocation, wdiereas 
 normally the elephant has an extremely meek and 
 peaceable character. In India, where one has been 
 expelled from its herd, the morbid state of mind 
 is attributed to the solitude in which they live. One 
 is tempted to attribute this condition to a form of 
 hysteria, owing to its origin in solitude, and to that 
 total change in the animal's whole existence which 
 attends the passage from social life to loneliness. 
 
 Another kind of crime has been observed in a 
 certain kind of ants. Female combatants often, 
 after a fight, fall into a passionate fury, in which 
 they blindly try to bite everything — around — their 
 companions, and even the slaves, who endeavor to 
 calm them by seizing their feet and holding them 
 until their fit of rage shall have passed off. This 
 is something analogous to the mad thirst for blood, 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 217 
 
 the feverish desire to kill, that sometimes seizes 
 men in time of war. 
 
 Rodent says that "in every regiment of cavalry 
 one may always find some horses which rebel 
 against discipline, and let no opportunity escape 
 them of doing harm, either to man or to their com- 
 panions. What is more curious, these horses are 
 said to present an anomily in the formation of their 
 skulls, having a narrow and retreating forehead." 
 
 Arabs will not admit to their stables the off- 
 spring of horses which are thus affected. This fact 
 might lead us to suspect that the phenomena which 
 relate to the hereditary nature of criminal instincts 
 are not observable in the human species only. Other 
 facts, indeed, could be quoted in support of this 
 hypothesis to prove that the laws of- criminal hered- 
 ity are the same in man and in animals. 
 
 Thus all the phenomena of human crime are 
 found among the animal species, but on a smaller 
 scale. The animals are in a certain sense less crim- 
 inal than man. 
 
 Man is, indeed, the most ferocious of all beings. 
 However, there is nothing to astonish us in this. 
 Man is capable of attaining a higher degree of evil 
 than any other animal, but he is also capable of 
 reaching a higher degree of good. The cause of 
 this is higher intelligence. Intelligence is an instru- 
 ment that can be wielded for good, as well as evil. 
 Man has had to pay for his immense pre-eminence 
 in good by a pre-eminence in evil. The one 
 superiority implies the other, and the species which 
 produces the greatest heroes cannot fail, on the other 
 hand, to produce the greatest criminals. 
 
 For the latter above observations I am greatly 
 indebted to the writings of one William Ferrero. 
 
The Transmission of Acquired 
 Charaders 
 
 An acquired character is one that is not con- 
 genitial, but has arisen, no matter how, since the 
 birth of the organism possessing it. It is not 
 difficult to understand how physical characters are 
 transmitted by heredity, but it is not so easy to see 
 how mind or mental characteristics could be, as 
 mind is ordinarily understood — that is, as an inde- 
 pendent entity. Let us see, then, if we cannot find 
 a more intimate connection between mind and body 
 than is generally supposed to exist. 
 
 In the first place, it is necessary to show that 
 our sensations, which are functions of the nerve 
 tissue and harbingers of mind, have a modifying 
 influence upon the brain and nervous system, and 
 that an important connection is thereby established 
 between mind and body. The establishment of this 
 connection commences right away after birth, so 
 that it is not a prenatal one. It grows out of the 
 effects of sensations upon the brain and nerve. Sen- 
 sations are both general, such as proceed from the 
 general surface of the body, and special, such as 
 proceed from the special senses — hearing, seeing, 
 smell and taste. ''Whenever an impression enters 
 the body from without," so says William James, of 
 Harvard, "the only thing it can do is to find its 
 way out. In doing this, it makes a path, and this 
 path it leaves behind it." This is an important 
 matter, as we shall see, for this is a material path, 
 
 218 
 
TRAXSMISSIOX OF CHARACTERS 219 
 
 and is a more or less fixed and permanent one. No 
 matter, for the present, what the path taken may 
 have been, the nutrition along this route in the 
 brain, or nerve substance, is altered — altered 
 through the agency of the current of sensation. 
 Other sensations — that is, sensations of different 
 orders — leave their own routes behind them. \Mien 
 w^e consider the multitude of sensations to which the 
 new-born infant is subjected, we see how the brain 
 early begins to fill with routes or paths for sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 Thus we see how, by experience, the mind trav- 
 els paths or along lines of its own creation. These 
 routes not only establish a connection between mind 
 and body, but give origin to habit, or future con- 
 duct, since a second sensation, by reason of a 
 peculiarity of the brain tissue, travels more readily 
 in an already established route and deepens it, so to 
 speak. What habits are to the man, you all know. 
 You know that they constitute the great part of the 
 man himself; they are his acquired nature. "Our 
 sensations lead to preceptions, comparisons, reasons, 
 and intellect, feeling and will, which also open still 
 other routes, and by nutrition taking place along 
 these routes, the brain grows to our habits of think- 
 ing, feeling and acting," so says Dr. Carpenter. 
 
 For convenience sake, we speak of routes, or 
 paths, in the brain, which is all right as far as it 
 goes; but there are modifications of brain tissue in 
 addition — modifications through nutrition in corela- 
 tion to mental activities. The permanency of the 
 modifications are due to the fact that they are pre- 
 served by nutrition, just as a scar on a boy's face 
 is perpetuated through life. We see the permanency 
 of these modifications in the faculty of memory. 
 Sufiice it to say, the events of childhood may endure 
 in the memory throughout life. It is a question, in 
 fact, whether a modification once wrought deeply in 
 
22U TRAXSMJSSIOX OF CHARACTERS 
 
 tlie brain ever entirely disappears. It may lie long 
 dormant, but is the cause of it entirely beyond the 
 power of recall, since the modification is the record 
 of that cause? 
 
 It requires time for the completion of these 
 modifications. This we see from the effect of 
 certain head injuries. It is a matter of record that 
 the memory not only fails for subsequent events, in 
 such cases, but that preceding ones, for a day or so, 
 have been forgotten. This shows that nutrition had 
 not had time to effect its full modification in the 
 brain. I dislike the words ''impressions" or "pic- 
 tures" as upon the retina, for instance, as they are 
 misleading. I prefer the word "modification" as 
 more intelligible. These modifications are material 
 changes wrought in the brain substance, rendered 
 such by the part played through nutrition, which is 
 a material process. But is not this materialism? If 
 so, the mind is the author of its own materializa- 
 tion. It is true, the mind, or mental activities, 
 ingrain themselves into the intimate anatomy of the 
 brain, so that our ideas in this way become organ- 
 ized or builded into the brain substance, constituting 
 a modification thereof, the revivability of these ideas 
 being dependent upon these modifications, which 
 are their records. This is the conclusion reached by 
 the most advanced physicologist and physiologist, 
 and this is what we want to impress. This makes 
 the bod)^ a part of our intellectual and moral char- 
 acters. The thought that our bodies should be a 
 part of our characters may be a novel one, but it is 
 an inevitable conclusion, and it enables us to see 
 that the possibility of inheriting mental character- 
 istics is not beyond reason. 
 
 To show the influence of the mind upon the 
 body, although it is a digression, I will mention the 
 fact that bad news is frequently followed by a spell 
 of illness, showing the intimacy of the connection. 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 221 
 
 The modifications referred to are not only in 
 the interior of the brain, effecting its minute anat- 
 omy, but apply to the surface of that organ as well, 
 and are visible to the naked eye, post-mortem, of 
 course. There is quite a difference in the superficial 
 markings of the brains of civilized men and those 
 of savages, the former being deeply fissured, so as 
 to increase the surface, or thinking part, of that 
 organ, those of the others being comparatively 
 smooth, so say anatomists. 
 
 If sensations and the mind, which they arouse, 
 can w^ork such changes in the brain, of which there 
 can be no question, why should they be thought 
 incapable of impressing themselves upon the body 
 in such wise as to develop in the off-spring mental 
 characteristics, though entirely acquired by the 
 parents ? 
 
 In view of the modifications wrought in the body 
 by the mind, these do not go to establish the trans- 
 mission of ancestral characteristics. There must be 
 some chain independent of the newly developed 
 mind of the infant. We speak of it as developed, 
 for the surroundings of the individual and the sen- 
 sations proceeding therefrom, which pour in upon 
 the new brain, have the effect of developing mind 
 (we do not say of creating it), so that prior to this 
 there was, presumably, no mind at all, or only a 
 dormant one, or the potentialities of one, at least. 
 
 By what chain, then, were ancestral treasures 
 inherited. Though there was no active mind, yet 
 there was an organ of mind, a material sub- 
 stratum — the infant brain — in which were stored 
 the potentialities of mind, ready to be developed by 
 fitting influences. A wonderful organ is the infant 
 brain, an organ in which are materialized, some- 
 what, at least, the tendencies to, or tastes for knowl- 
 edge, the dispositions, the effects of the experiences 
 and labors of our ancestors for a thousand years or 
 
222 TRAXSMJSSIOX Of CHARACTERS 
 
 more. The effects these experiences have succes- 
 sively bequeathed are principle and interest, and 
 have slowly amounted to that high intelligence 
 which lies latent in the brain of the infant. With- 
 out such a store-house in which are treasured up 
 the precious culture and experiences of our ances- 
 tors, just as are stored in our own brains the modi- 
 fications wrought by our own experiences, the trans- 
 mission of character of any kind could not occur. 
 
 As it is, it is evident that a great part of the 
 culture and inherited experiences of our ancestors 
 are wholly lost, lost to the world forever; but we 
 cannot but believe that much, much that is whole- 
 some and precious, is saved and passed on to pos- 
 terity. 
 
 If this doctrine be true, even in a measure only, 
 the great and important truth which should ever be 
 present in the minds of parents, is that they should 
 develop and train their mental and moral pozvers 
 for the benefit of their offspring, if not for their ozvn 
 good. 
 
 As it is, the world has made slow enough 
 progress in enlightenment^ morality and civiliza- 
 tion. Had \ve inherited all the intelligence, skill 
 and morals of our ancestors, we would have trans- 
 cended the limits of our species, and would have 
 been creatures other than we are, notwithstanding 
 the disadvantages might have more than offset the 
 gain. We hope these preliminary observations, by 
 giving our theme a physical basis, have prepared the 
 way for a more intelligible consideration of our sub- 
 ject, the transmission of acquired character by 
 heredity. 
 
 Professor August Weismann, of Freiburg, has 
 essayed to prove that what biologists call accjuired 
 character is not hereditary, and has made himself 
 the leading champion of this doctrine. Prior to 
 this, Lamark held the opposite view. He believed 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 223 
 
 that the children of a man who gives himself to 
 learning will have better heads than if the father 
 had been a soldier or professional cricketer. 
 
 Now, this view is held today by the great major- 
 ity of common people, and yet this is the very view 
 that a goodly number of biologists, on theoretical 
 grounds, have set themselves to combat. Weismann 
 confines himself chiefly to animals and the modi- 
 fications that take place in their physical structure, 
 and maintains that wherever such modifications 
 descend to the offspring of such animals, thev can- 
 not have been acquired by the animals during their 
 lives, but must have previously existed in a latent 
 state in their reproductive germs, and have been 
 handed down from ancestors more or less remote. 
 Inasmuch as Weismann was an evolutionist, it is 
 strange that he did not see that the existence of such 
 modifications must have been acquired by those 
 remote ancestors. 
 
 Mr. Francis Galton had anticipated Weismann 
 in the expression of similar views, but he made them 
 less absolute, and did not insist upon them with so 
 great emphasis. He applied them, too, chiefly to 
 man, and dealt with mental as well as physical quali- 
 ties. Weismann seemed to think that, according to 
 the view of his opponent, a child of an accomplished 
 pianist ought to inherit the faculty of playing on 
 that instrument. Whereas it is perfectly true, that 
 the children of accomplished pianists do not inherit 
 the art of playing the piano. But the art of playing 
 that instrument is really a form of knowledge, and 
 no one has ever maintained that knowledge can be 
 tiansmitted. 'It is necessary to distinguish sharply 
 between knowledge and the capacity for acquiring 
 knowledge," so says Mr. Lester F. Ward. It is this 
 latter only that has been generally l^elieved to be 
 hereditary. This point seems, therefore, to be 
 wholly irrelevant in Weismann's theory. It is, 
 
Ii24 TK.IXSMISSIOX Of CHARACTERS 
 
 nevertheless, true that in England perhaps one-half 
 uf the biologists have subscribed to the Weismann 
 doctrine. 
 
 That the process of heredity should be operative 
 after modifications are wrought in the nervous sys- 
 tem by the mind is what we have just been insisting 
 on; but why it should be effective only after the 
 intellectual part had lapsed out, as claimed, and 
 actions become automatic, we cannot see, and there 
 are but few followers of this theory. At the same 
 time these few admit that disease, poison, and the 
 effects of starvation, may be transmitted. 
 
 J. Mark Baldwin and Groose favor a theory 
 that they call organic selection, meaning thereby 
 that instinct in animals is patched out by inteli- 
 gence, which is acquired by imitation and experi- 
 ence, and that this exerts a modifying influence upon 
 the nervous system, so that the intelligence lapses 
 out, and that this modification may be inherited. But 
 this modification is an acquisition, and the passing 
 of it by inheritance does not change the theory of 
 the transmission of acquired characters. Whilst 
 among the sceptical there are many of the most dis- 
 tinguished philosophers, nevertheless the Weismann 
 doctrine has a great number of opponents of whom 
 I mention only Haeckle, Eimer, Nilser, Hertroig, 
 Romanes, Herbert Spencer, Wundt, Sully and 
 Ribot. Weismann himself, in 1886, admitted that 
 monads, which are propogated by mere division, 
 may inherit acquired characters. He also admitted 
 the possibility of modifying the germ plasm by 
 changing nutriment and temperature. 
 
 So long as the question is confined to the lower 
 forms of life, it must be confessed that the defenders 
 of the transmissibility of acquired character are 
 placed at a disadvantage, but that is on account of 
 the difficulty introduced by natural selection. But 
 when the human species is to be treated, the tables 
 
TRANSMISSIOX OF CHARACTERS 225 
 
 are in a manner turned. It is in the faculties of the 
 mind that we find really the strong claims of those 
 who advocate the doctrine of the inheritance of 
 acquired qualities, or post-natal increments to facul- 
 ties already existing. Dr. Wallace believes them to 
 consist chiefly of the mathematical, the esthetic ; but 
 he also properly mentions the power of abstract 
 reasoning, the metaphysical faculty or talent for 
 abstruse speculation, and the moral and ethical 
 attributes. 
 
 Others might be enumerated, such as the talents 
 for scientific observations, for mechanical inven- 
 tions, and literary research, and others still by which 
 knowledge has been increased. These have become 
 to civilized and enlightened man not only the most 
 advantageous of all his possessions, for the mind is 
 his chief weapon, and the dominant mark by which 
 he is distinguished from the animal world below 
 him. More than any and all physical distinctions 
 this constitutes him man. 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Galton, although leaning 
 strongly against the doctrine of transmission of 
 acquired qualities, has in his "Hereditary Genius," 
 and other works, ably shown from concrete exam- 
 ples that high qualities of mind tend to run in par- 
 ticular families, and has done much to disprove the 
 popular notion relied on by Weismann. In this he 
 has done much to establish the doctrine of the trans- 
 mission of acquired characters. In the same line 
 with Galton, M. Alphonse de Condolle has collected 
 an additional mass of facts in support of the view 
 that talents tend to persist in certain families, or 
 lines of descent. But aside entirely from all 
 abstruse theories as to how heredity takes place, we 
 have at least the following general facts which can 
 be best explained by the theory of the transmission 
 of acquired qualities, viz : a large number of greatly 
 specialized mental attributes which have made their 
 
Ii20 TRJXSMJSSIOX Of ClIARACTLiRS 
 
 appearance in man, and wliicli themselves are clearly 
 hereditary, notwithstanding parental crossing". 
 
 **lf Professor Weismann and his followers are 
 right, education has no value for the future of man- 
 kind, and its benefits are confined exclusively to the 
 generation receiving it. But the belief, though 
 vague, has been somewhat general that a part, at 
 least, of what is gained in the direction of develop- 
 ing and strengthening the faculties of the mind, 
 througli their life-long exercise in special fields, is 
 permanently preserved to the race by hereditary 
 transmission to posterity of the acquired increment. 
 We have seen that all the facts of history and of 
 personal observation sustain this comforting popular 
 belief, and until the doctors of science shall cease to 
 differ on this point and shall reduce the laws of 
 heredity to a degree of exactness which shall amount 
 to something more like a demonstration than the 
 current speculation, it may perhaps be as w^ell to 
 continue for a time to hug this delusion," so says 
 Mr. Ward. 
 
 Of course, if it could be demonstrated how much 
 of our characters were inherited, and what particu- 
 lars were wholly acquired, there would be no room 
 for a paper of this kind. Lombroso, in an article on 
 the heredity of acquired characteristics, says this is 
 an important subject in aiding us to decide whether 
 we can profit organically, so to speak, by the actions 
 of our fathers, i. e., whether the labor of the past 
 can be accumulated and transformed into labor that 
 may be called organic, or whether such labor must 
 be W'holly lost. Says he : "Especially during the 
 last five years, every new publication referring to 
 this subject has given stronger evidence of the 
 heredity of acquired traits, thus tending to support 
 Herbert Spencer against Weismann. I have gone 
 a step further in which I show that even our ges- 
 tures are inherited from our ancestors of thousands 
 
CF 
 
 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 227 
 
 of years ago. It suffices to mention the attitude of 
 prayer, by which the conquered stretch out their 
 hands and bend their knees, to show that they are 
 unarmed and ready to allow themselves to be bound, 
 endeavor thus to disarm the ferocity of the conquer- 
 ors. Now, this gesture, which we see repeated so 
 many times in the Egyptian and Chaldean sculpture, 
 I have seen reproduced instinctively by one of my 
 own children not yet two years old, when speechless 
 from illness, who invoked our pity by gestures never 
 learned. 
 
 "Moreover," says he, "does not the North 
 American offer the best evidence of the heredity of 
 newly acquired character, both physical and 
 psychical? The skin has become darker, the orbits 
 larger, the neck longer, the head smaller and more 
 rounded, the fingers longer than those of his Anglo- 
 Saxon fathers ; and as to his moral nature, it is well 
 known how much he has changed the British type. 
 The overwhelming reverence of the English for 
 tradition and historic formalism has been replaced 
 by a true passion for modernity, and these traits are 
 transmitted by heredity." 
 
 But it is easier to find facts which prove that 
 physical characteristics acquired have been heredi- 
 tarily transmitted. Take first the fact that in Massa- 
 chusetts a certain breed of sheep, known as the Otto, 
 rose from a short-legged lamb. It was supposed 
 that this short-leggedness would be an advantage, in 
 preventing them from leaping hedges which abound 
 in that neighborhood ; so this characteristic was 
 perpetuated by careful breeding. 
 
 Take next the mutilation of cutting off a tail — a 
 mutilation which is generally not transmitted. Yet 
 a certain number of cats were exhibited in Germany 
 sometime ago without tails. These cats inherited 
 their taillessness from the mother, which had lost 
 hers by the passage of a cart-wheel over it. It is 
 
228 TKANSMJSSIOX Of CHARACTERS 
 
 well known that there is a tailless race of cats in 
 the isle of Alan. As to the first origin of the tail- 
 lessness of the Manx cats, as they are called, we are 
 ignorant, but know that the anomoly has been trans- 
 mitted until they constitute the dormant race in that 
 island. 
 
 A few years ago a case occurred near Jena, 
 Germany, in which, by a careless slamming of a 
 stable door, the tail of a bull was wrenched off, and 
 the calves begotten by this bull were born without 
 a tail. 
 
 A very striking instance is furnished by the 
 hornless cattle of Paraguay, in South America. A 
 special race of oxen is there bred which is entirely 
 W'ithout horns. It is descended from a single bull 
 which was born without horns as a result of some 
 unknow^n cause. All the descendants of this bull 
 produced with a horned cow were entirely without 
 horns. At present this hornless race has almost 
 entirely supplanted the horned cattle in Paraguay. 
 
 The next case I will cite is that given by Dr. 
 Struthers, to-wit, an example of hereditary digital 
 variation : "Esther P., who had six fingers on one 
 handj bequeathed this malformation along some 
 lines of her descendants for two, tlxree and four 
 generations." 
 
 The last of the illustrations of this nature I will 
 mention is the genesis of an acquired characteristic 
 which has become hereditary in the race : It is that 
 sort of fatty appendage attached to the rump and 
 flanks of the Hottentot women, on which their 
 infants are supported, while they themselves are 
 busied in work. Evidence on this point shows that 
 in the Hottentot, fatty tissue abounds all over the 
 body, forming a new appendage where pressure and 
 irritation are greatest. 
 
 But, after all, a single proof will suffice to show 
 the acquirement of physical characteristics. Civil- 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 229 
 
 ized man has acquired in the cerebral surface, the 
 physical center of reading, which, in apoplexy, is 
 paralyzed, causing readnig-power to disappear. 
 "Now this center," so says Lombroso, ''has posi- 
 tively been acquired within historic time; it cer- 
 tainly is not found yet in savages." 
 
 The same may be said of the speech center, the 
 third left frontal convolution, since everything goes 
 to prove that the first man had no language, just as 
 the new-born child has no language, and the Hotten- 
 tots and the Weddahs have but very imperfect ones. 
 
 Where can be found stronger evidence that there 
 are acquired physical characteristics, which are 
 transmitted by inheritance? 
 
 Weismann met with great opposition. One of 
 his most noted opponents was Herbert Spencer, who 
 engaged him in fierce controversy and showed up 
 his fallacies greatly to his disadvantage. They 
 engaged in hot debates, largely on account of the 
 structures of lower animals and plants, overlooking 
 to a great extent the higher characteristics of man. 
 "The circumstance," said Spencer, ''that the tend- 
 ency to repetition of like forms in heredity is, in a 
 great degree, qualified by the tendency to variation. 
 No two plants are indistinquishable, and no two ani- 
 mals are without differences. Variation is 
 co-existent with heredity." 
 
 Examples of this statement are too numerous 
 to mention. The experiences of agriculturists, 
 gardeners and breeders of animals show us, in a 
 marked manner, the hereditary transmission of 
 small differences. But the clearest proof that struc- 
 tural alterations by alterations of function are in- 
 herited occurs when the alterations are morbid. 
 Witness the result of Brown-Sequards experiments 
 on guinea-pigs, showing that those which had been 
 artifically made epileptic had offspring which were 
 epileptic. 
 
 16- 
 
230 TK.IXSMISSIOX OF CHARACiERS 
 
 i will barely mention disease, although it is a 
 strung point in the premises, for we all know full 
 well that diseases are hereditary, notwithstanding 
 they may have been acquired by the immediate 
 parents, such as Consumption, Syphilis, Rheuma- 
 tism; also nervous diseases, such as Epilepsy, 
 Chorea and Insanity. We will not dwell upon the 
 hereditary character of disease, as there are more 
 pleasant aspects to our subject. Spencer proved a 
 strong advocate of the transmission of acquired 
 characters in man. He believed it to be a necessary 
 part of general evolution. He thought the inheri- 
 tance of the best qualities of our ancestors necessary 
 to carry us upward in our career of evolution. 
 Either there has been inheritance of acquired char- 
 acters or there has been no evolution. Even Weis- 
 mann admits that the average of mental power is 
 increasing, although very gradually. How he could 
 have conceded this, holding the views he did, I can- 
 not for the Ife of me imagine. It was to Spencer's 
 influence that many phychologists were confirmed in 
 the doctrine he advocated, although many of them 
 were of his opinion prior to his teaching, versus that 
 of the biologists. Weismann speaks of a pre-dis- 
 position in the germ as though it were not an 
 acquired tendency ; as though it w^ere not equivalent 
 to what his opponents claim. 
 
 In later years, however, Weismann has made 
 great concessions. Mr. Ward says of him : ''I trust 
 it has been sufficient, chiefly from his own words, 
 that in elaborating his complicated theory, Professor 
 Weismann has, greatly to his credit, conceded all 
 the essential points in the long controversy as to the 
 inheritance of acquired characters." He has proven 
 a heroic champion of his cause and fought bravely 
 for its maintenance. He certainly had a profound 
 knowledge of morphology, but he allowed himself, 
 from theoretical reasons, to be led astray over 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 231 
 
 flimsy questions concerning the lower animals, 
 insects and plants. Hence, later in life, under the 
 scourgings of Spencer, Carl H. Eigenmann, Lester 
 F. Ward, and others, he was forced to make such 
 concessions as were almost equivalent to a complete 
 surrender of his theory. 
 
 Turning again to mental characteristics, Profes- 
 sor Maudsley says: "When the mental phenomena 
 of one of the lowest savages are contrasted with 
 those of an intelligent, civilized man, a very wide 
 difference is perceived; and if a savage chiljl and a 
 child of civilized parents were subjected to the same 
 external conditions from the first moment of life to 
 the age of fullest vigor, it cannot be doubted that 
 there would still be a vast difference between their 
 mental phenomena. It is, then, a question whence 
 the different degrees of value possessed by one indi- 
 vidual over another has been derived. 
 
 ''The obvious answer is that the original super- 
 iority of mental organization is the result of inheri- 
 tance. The savage has a less capacity of acquiring 
 knowledge than the civilized man, because his brain 
 is fashioned after the less-developed type of the 
 brains of his forefathers, while the civilized man 
 inherits the superior organization and capacity of 
 the brains of his forefathers. The European inherits, 
 for instance, from twenty to thirty cubic inches 
 more brain than the Papuan. Thus it happens that 
 out of savages arise at length our Newtons and 
 Shakespeares. The civilized man has a nervous sub- 
 stratum in his convolution which the savage has 
 not." 
 
 We have no more reason to doubt this than to 
 doubt that the pointer dog is indebted to inheritance 
 for the facility with which it learns to point. 
 
 Half a century ago, Mr. Knight made trial with 
 some pointer pups, having taken great care that 
 when they were first taken into the field they 
 
2S2 TR.IXSMISSIOX OF CHARACTLiKS 
 
 received no instructions from the older dogs. The 
 very first day, one of the pups stood trembling with 
 excitement, its eyes fixed, and all its muscles 
 strained, pointing at the partridges, as its ancestors 
 had been taught to do. 
 
 Mr. Lewes gives a case in point: He had a 
 puppy taken from its mother at six weeks, who, 
 although never taught to beg (an accomplishment 
 his mother had been taught), spontaneously took to 
 begging for everything he wanted, when about eight 
 months old. He would beg for food, to be let out 
 of the room, and one day he was found opposite a 
 rabbit hutch begging for rabbits. 
 
 The taming by man of the animals which are 
 now domesticated, without doubt cost him great 
 pains originally, and had there been no tendency to 
 the fixation of acquired modifications by hereditary 
 transmission, he would never have succeeded in 
 domesticating them. Darwin believed that the 
 trained habits of dogs and horses, the tameness of 
 the rabbit, and other domestic animals, were due to 
 the direct and transmitted effects of man's contact. 
 
 All the mental endowments in which we surpass 
 our ancestors, and all the superiority of cerebral 
 organization which such' endowments imply, have 
 been acquired by the accumulated effects of experi- 
 ence and their transmission through generations. 
 How could we have inherited the organ of mind 
 without inheriting all the possibilities that go with 
 that organ, acquired as well as original ? 
 
 Like remarks may be made of man's emotional 
 nature. Beside the emotional nature of his kind, 
 he inherits, also, the more special nature of his own 
 immediate ancestors. His father and mother, his 
 grandfather and grandmother, are latent or declare 
 themselves in him. It is not by virtue of education 
 so much as by virtue of inheritance that he is brave 
 or timid, generous or selfish, prudent or reckless, 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 233 
 
 quick or placid in temper; the ground tone of his 
 character is original in him, it is the inherited 
 nature. It is more important what a man's father 
 or mother was than what his school master was. 
 
 The acquired characters of his ancestors, mental, 
 moral and bodily, may have been a result of relig- 
 ion, to a great extent, and I certainly believe such 
 inheritable. 
 
 As to manual dexterity, it is alleged that the 
 children of skilled artisans are, as a rule, more apt 
 at petty manipulations than the children of ordinary 
 laborers, and that hence, in the population of cer- 
 tain towns (Birmingham, England, for example,) 
 have an advantage over other towns in point of 
 manufacture. 
 
 I wish to emphasize the fact that the speed of 
 trotting horses is transmitted. Horse fanciers know 
 this full well and take pains that the breed is kept 
 pure, and they are willing to pay large money for 
 fine blood, feeling sure that the speed will go with it. 
 
 Cows are bred for the acquired character of giv- 
 ing a certain quantity of milk. The wonderful 
 variety of dogs, hogs, pigeons and barnyard fowls 
 is in evidence on this point, for the reason that the 
 breeding animals and fowls were selected on account 
 of their acquired characters. 
 
 When we consider the real, low-down condition 
 of savages of today, although they are rarely real 
 representatives of primitive men, we conclude that 
 the first men of the earth had the barest rudiments, 
 or adumbrations, of mind, so that, apart from his 
 physical organization, all that he had was acquired. 
 According to the evolutionist, even his physical 
 frame was acquired, so that if we have inherited 
 anything, it was of an acquired character. And it 
 seems to me if we preclude the inheritance of 
 acquired characters, we preclude everything, except 
 a minute unit of protoplasm smaller than the micro- 
 
234 TR. I X SMI SSI OX Of CIIARACTURS 
 
 scope reveals, and this, too, in accordance with 
 W'eismann's evolutionary views. 
 
 But do we inherit anything of a mental or moral 
 nature? If not, we would not have made much 
 progress on the condition of the savage. We may 
 not have inherited as much as many believe, but we 
 are persuaded that it was much. We do not claim 
 to have inherited knowledge or morals, but a tend- 
 ency thereto, or aptitude therefor; an aptitude or 
 talent for the pulpit, the bar, for medicine, for the 
 stage, and a thousand useful and profitable employ- 
 ments. Fortunate is he who is born with a procliv- 
 ity to a useful vocation. 
 
 Darwin maintained that if variations were 
 adapted to external conditions and gave the animal 
 an advantage in the struggle for existence, they 
 would be transmitted by heredity. We will, there- 
 fore, indulge in gratitude to the long line of our 
 ancestors for what we are, provided, of course, we 
 have some redeeming qualities in us; some intelli- 
 gence and good dispositions. For there is born in 
 man an essence that makes the kind of being he is. 
 
 On the other hand, it is established beyond doubt 
 that degeneracy and acquired evil dispositions are 
 transmitted by heredity. W^e know with almost 
 equal certainty that criminality and wickedness are. 
 "Where did the crime begin?" asked the warden of 
 a prison. "In my ancestors," was the reply. "In 
 me their weakness sunk into felony." 
 
 We know, also, that vicious and criminal pro- 
 pensities recur in some families, as a rule, with some 
 exceptions and in varying degrees of depravity. A 
 most remarkable example of this form of heredity 
 has been traced through six generations by Dr. 
 Dugdale, in the descendants of a depraved woman 
 of the State of New York, named Margaret Jukes. 
 Of 709 individuals, the great majority consisted of 
 murderers, thieves and idiots. 
 
TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 235 
 
 If wickedness and degeneracy are transmissible 
 by heredity, and good disposition and talent are not, 
 then nature discriminates in favor of the former as 
 against the latter — a slander we cannot believe. \\t 
 cannot conceive of anything that would render us 
 more discontent with the arrangement of earthly 
 affairs than to beheve such discrimination is shown. 
 
 It would make of a just God one who is partial 
 to evil. Therefore, give us, by all means, the trans- 
 mission of acquired characters by inheritance, good 
 as well as evil, a fair mixture of both, for both are 
 necessary to the development of our characters, the 
 good for its direct effect, the evil to promote the 
 good by affording us a combat, wherein moral 
 strength may be developed; without this combat 
 there could be no moral heroism, and without the 
 sight of it going on, life would be flat in the extreme. 
 
 To repeat : in order that the doctrine of this 
 thesis may operate effectively, it is incumbent upon 
 parents to improve themselves for the benefit of their 
 posterity. 
 
Herbert Spencer 
 
 As I have made frequent quotations from the 
 writings of Herbert Spencer, it seems to me not 
 inappropriate to set forth the manner of man he 
 was. 
 
 He was born April 2y, 1820, in Derby, Eng- 
 land, a town which has since become quite a manu- 
 facturing center. His father was opposed to the 
 repetition of family names, claiming that it was 
 foolish, as a name was intended only for identifica- 
 tion. His uncle sent a letter to the child's father 
 with some verses by a young poet named Herbert 
 Knowles, and as the father was pleased with the 
 verses, this led to the choice of the name Herbert. 
 There were several other children, but all died in 
 infancy. 
 
 Herbert Spencer, in mature life, believed 
 strongly, and rightly so, in the transmission by 
 heredity of parental characteristics, both inborn in 
 the parents and acquired by them. I shall dwell 
 somewhat at length upon the main traits of his 
 parents : 
 
 His father gave some sign of inventive ability, 
 and also artistic perception. In these respects his 
 son was his inferior, although he did invent an 
 invalid bed, a fishing-rod joint, and some kind of 
 binding pins for holding sheet music in place. 
 
 Though his father was not robust, he had a con- 
 stitution which was well balanced. He was a fine 
 walker, so that even after he had passed seventy, 
 ladies would turn round on the streets to watch him. 
 
 236 
 
HERBERT SPENCER 237 
 
 He was a man of very limited means, and followed 
 school-teaching for a living. There was a time 
 when his health broke down, and he engaged in the 
 manufacture of lace, owning lace machines with his 
 brothers. This continued for three years, during 
 which time he lost money, after which he returned 
 to teaching school again. 
 
 His father would never take off his hat to any- 
 one, no matter of what rank, and, further, he could 
 not be induced to address anyone as Esquire or as 
 Reverend. All his letters were addressed Mr.- 
 Always he would step out of the way to kick a stone 
 off the pavement lest someone should trip over it. 
 He would never put on any sign of mourning, even 
 for father or mother. 
 
 The father's career as a teacher dated from boy- 
 hood. In dealing with transgressors, his method 
 was this, i, e., to form some of the boys into a jury 
 and to have the offense investigated in a judicial 
 manner, finally leaving them to decide the punish- 
 ment. Generally he found it needful to mitigate it. 
 
 Absolute punctuality in his teaching appoint- 
 ments was one of his traits — a trait naturally result- 
 ing from that regard for other's claims, which he 
 displayed in all ways. 
 
 If he saw boys quarreling, he stopped to expos- 
 tulate, and he could never pass a man who was ill- 
 treating his horse without trying to make him 
 behave better. 
 
 Great firmness in carrying out what he consid- 
 ered to be right was a marked trait. He rarely ever 
 yielded. 
 
 He never changed his fashion of dress, however 
 old it might seem. 
 
 Respecting his intellectual powers, it may be 
 said unusual keenness of the senses — the basis of all 
 intelligence — characterized him. Improvement was 
 his watchword always and everywhere. 
 
ZiS 11 UK HURT S PEN CUR 
 
 He could not dispatch a note concerning an 
 appointment without first writing a rough draft and 
 afterward correctly copying it. He had a great deal 
 of passion for reforming the world, and was ever 
 thinking of self-improvement, or of the improve- 
 ment of others. 
 
 He suffered from chronic irritabiHty consequent 
 on his nervous disorder, which continued through- 
 out Hfe. 
 
 He wrote one book called "Inventional Geom- 
 etry," which required great labor, and was very 
 useful to the student. 
 
 Concerning his mother, it may be said that she 
 was brought up a Methodist, and adhered to that 
 belief throughout life; but she simply accepted and 
 retained the beliefs given to her in early days, and 
 would have similarly accepted and retained any 
 other set of beliefs. She never passed a criticism 
 on a pulpit utterance, or expressed any independent 
 judgment on religious, ethical or political questions. 
 
 The trait especially named in his mother before 
 her marriage was her sweetness. Generally patient, 
 it was but rarely that she manifested irritation, and 
 then in a very moderate manner. A trait which 
 injuriously co-operated with this was an utter 
 absence of tact. She was too simple-minded to 
 think of maneuvering. 
 
 The subordination element of religion was more 
 dominant in her than in his father, so that the sense 
 of duty was very powerful. Of his mother's intel- 
 lect, there is nothing special to be said. There is 
 ground for believing that she had a sound judgment 
 in respect of ordinary affairs — sounder than his 
 father's. 
 
 Her son's plans and proceedings she always 
 criticised discouragingly, and urged the adoption of 
 some common-place career. This, doubtless, was 
 owing to the financial failure of her father. 
 
HERBERT SPENCER 239 
 
 She had no interest in nature, and never gath- 
 ered any scientific ideas. Briefly characterized, she 
 was of ordinary intelHgence and high moral nature. 
 
 There remains only to name the one great draw- 
 back of his father, and that is he was not kind to 
 her. Exacting and inconsiderate, he did not habit- 
 ually display that sympathy which should character- 
 ize the marital relation. 
 
 He held that every one should speak clearly, and 
 that those who did not ought to suffer the resulting 
 evil. Hence, if he did not understand some ques- 
 tions his wife put, he would remain silent, letting it 
 go unanswered. He continued this course all 
 through life; there resulted no improvement. Of 
 course, such behavior tended towards chronic alien- 
 ation. 
 
 The causes which co-operated in producing this 
 conduct, so at variance with his usual character, 
 were, first, a great deal of passion for reforming the 
 world. The other cause was chronic irritability, 
 consequent to his nervous disorder, which set in 
 some two or three years after marriage and contin- 
 ued during the rest of his life. He was conscious of 
 this abnormal lack of control over his temper; but, 
 as unhappily his son could testify from personal 
 experience, consciousness of such lack did not 
 exclude the evil or mitigate it. 
 
 YOUNG spencer's CHILDHOOD 
 
 His father, owing to ill health, became very 
 petulent and irritable, which checked that geniality 
 of behavior, or which fosters the affections and 
 brings out in children the higher traits of nature. 
 Had he retained good health, his son's education, 
 furthermore, would have been much better than 
 it was. 
 
 Finally, his father's health became such that he 
 was compelled to give up teaching, and moved off 
 
240 HERBERT SFEXCER 
 
 to a place called New Bedford, adjacent to a tract 
 of wild land, where his son spent the remaining part 
 of his childhood. There was a certain charm of 
 adventure in exploring the narrow, turf-covered 
 tracks, running hither and thither into all their 
 nooks. Then there w^ere blue-bells to be picked 
 from among the prickly branches, which were 
 flecked here and there with fragments of wool left 
 by passing sheep. 
 
 His father, thinking he w^as not constitutionally 
 strong, allowed him to pass the greater part of this 
 period without the ordinary lesson-learning. He 
 concluded that his son ought not to be subject to 
 school discipline at an early age. 
 
 They resided at New Bedford three years, then 
 moved back to Derby, where they lived during the 
 rest of the father's life. Here his father continued 
 to teach, though only giving private lessons. Here- 
 tofore life as a boy continued for some time to be 
 comparatively unrestrained. 
 
 When ten years old, there was one out-door 
 activity which partook of an intellectual character, 
 viz.: the pursuit of entomology. A fondness for 
 the study of nature in all of its varied manifestations 
 was an early developed characteristic, and in long 
 country rambles after specimens for his herbarium 
 and entomological collections, many a delightful 
 half-holiday w^as passed. His father encouraged 
 him to make drawings of the insects he caught. In 
 some cases he added discriptions of them. Initi- 
 ated thus naturally, he practiced drawing through- 
 out boyhood to a greater or less extent. 
 
 Turning to more purely intellectual amusements, 
 the fact may be named that he w^as greatly given to 
 castle-building. Along w^th this passion may be 
 named the reading of fiction, of which he became 
 very fond. This was when he was not over seven 
 years of age. 
 
HBRBBRT SPBNCBR 241 
 
 His health at this time was quite satisfactory. 
 The most marked moral trait was the disregard of 
 authority. This continued, notwithstanding perpet- 
 ual scoldings. 
 
 Concerning intellectual traits, it may be 
 remarked that then, as always, his memory was 
 rather below par than above. To get a lesson by 
 heart was almost intolerable, and he evinced an 
 awkward dislike to accepting statements merely 
 because they were set down in books. 
 
 A related fact is that throughout boyhood, as 
 in after life, he could not bear prolonged reading. 
 At the same time, general information was picked 
 up by him with considerable facility. 
 
 With regard to the intellectual culture he 
 received during boyhood, it may be said that his 
 father, being unable personally to conduct his edu- 
 cation, sent him to a day school, the first being that 
 of a Mr. Mather. He was a very ordinary kind of 
 teacher, who had no power of interesting his pupils 
 in what they were taught. In repeating lessons, 
 Herbert was habitually inefficient. If he ever said 
 a lesson correctly, it was certainly very rare. He 
 was exceedingly unwilling to learn the Latin gram- 
 mar. He was soon sent to his uncle's school, which 
 was relatively good, and led to some progress. 
 
 His miscellaneous intellectual training was 
 favorable. He was a frequent listener to discus- 
 sions. His uncle or others who came to their house 
 always got into conversation with his father of 
 more or less instructive kinds — now on politics, 
 now on religion, now on scientific matters, and now 
 on cjuestions of right and wrong. 
 
 As at Hinton Charter House, where his uncle 
 lived, a considerable portion of his youth was passed, 
 something under this head seems called for : The 
 daily routine was not a trying one. In the morning 
 Euclid and Latin, in the afternoon commonly gar- 
 
242 llliKbLHiT SPliXCUR 
 
 deiiing or sometimes a walk, while in the evening 
 reading, with occasional chess. His aversion to lin- 
 gnistic stndies still continued. He also studied both 
 French and Greek, but his progress was extremely 
 small. 
 
 A letter from his uncle to his father says : 
 "Herbert has learnt only twenty-four propositions 
 of Sixth book in a fortnight, when he could easily 
 have learned the whole book in a week." And he 
 should have said he knew nothing of English gram- 
 mar. After three years spent at Hinton his school 
 days closed. He was then only sixteen years of 
 age — an age at which mental development just 
 fairly begins — and there was yet nothing to fore- 
 shadow the greatness of the man that was to follow. 
 We have devoted considerable space to his boyhood, 
 youth and school preparation, because this is gen- 
 erally the period that determines the man, but in 
 this case the old theory, that development must take 
 place in youth or not at all, seems to have suffered 
 refutation, showing that genius may be of delayed 
 development. It also affords encouragement to 
 those whose early education has been neglected. 
 
 After he left school, fourteen years elapsed 
 before anything of consequence occurred to arouse 
 his mental development. This was the writing of 
 his first book, known as ''Social Statics," he beingr 
 then nearly thirty years of age. The writing of this 
 book gave Spencer himself an unmistakable revela- 
 tion of his own powers. It is true, he gained some 
 experience as a railroad engineer, and in short terms 
 as a writer for newspapers and at unsuccessful 
 inventions, but the time was poorly spent. 
 
 He claimed in this time to have gained some 
 experience of men, which was worth something, 
 and of the world, both animate and inanimate. 
 
 A consoling thought with him was that academic 
 training, as carried on, implies a forcing of the mind 
 
HERBERT SPENCER 243 
 
 into shapes it would not otherwise have taken — 
 implies a bending of the shoots out of their lines of 
 spontaneous growth into conformity with a pat- 
 tern — so that in some cases the knowledge gained 
 by academic training is of less value than the 
 original cost. In this position, he was confirmed by 
 the statement of Edison, that in his establishment 
 college-bred men were of no use, which is contrary 
 to general experience. He held that the established 
 systems of education encourages submissive recep- 
 tivity instead of independent activity. 
 
 During the revision of his first book, he discov- 
 ered that after a lapse of time from the writing of 
 a thing, corrections become much easier. Also the 
 fact that the bodily health plays an important part 
 in correcting. He says on one occasion he took up 
 a chapter, and after reading it, said, ''Good; that 
 will do very well," and then in another mood he 
 re-read the same, and laid it down discontentedly. 
 
 After writing his first book he spent an idle year, 
 even reading but little, as was his custom. 
 
 After his second book, which was when he was 
 thirty-six years of age (an age prior to which most 
 authors do their best work), he lost eighteen months 
 on account of poor health, doing nothing but trying 
 to recover. 
 
 I will not attempt a criticism of any of his writ- 
 ings, as I will have enough to do with the man him- 
 self ; besides, this has been done by able men. We 
 regard him as a genius, which, in our opinion, means 
 an abnormal man. This is showm by his originality, 
 his forgetfulness, his abnormal sensitiveness to 
 noises, his nervous break-downs, and his persistent 
 sleeplessness. His life was pure. He was devoted 
 to truth and usefulness, and his character was 
 wholly free from envy and malice (though not from 
 contempt), and from the perverse egoism that so 
 often goes with greatness. 
 
244 HURBERT SPISXCER 
 
 As his early training had been neglected, 
 whence, then, came his mental ability as a man? 
 From his ancestors, so he said. His account of his 
 father makes one believe in the fatality of heredity. 
 He had great faith in the influence of the trans- 
 mission of characteristics of ancestors, and it seems 
 evident from his life, not so much in effect of 
 discipline, particularly when a transmitted trait was 
 to be overcome. 
 
 In his own person, it seems he preferred to give 
 inherited tendencies free scope, even though they 
 went to an objectionable extent; whereas a vast 
 number of men think the cultivation of character by 
 discipline is the great end of life. 
 
 It looks as though Spencer thought it useless to 
 fight against hereditary traits. Anyway, he seemed 
 not to have attempted to do so. In this he w^as 
 inconsistent, for he tells us himself in his autobio- 
 graphy that he was a great critic. As I have used 
 his autobiography greatly so * far, and shall use it 
 further to some extent, I will speak in the first per- 
 son and use his own language largely. Says he : 
 
 ''The tendency to fault-finding in me is dominant 
 — disagreeably dominant. The indicating of errors 
 in thought and in speech made by those around me 
 has all through life been an incurable habit — a habit 
 for which I have often reproached myself, but to no 
 purpose." (This he claimed to have inherited from 
 his father and grandfather.)' "And here let me 
 add that in me a sense of duty prompts criticism, for 
 when occasionally I succeed in restraining myself 
 from making a comment on something wrongly said 
 or executed, I have a feeling of discomfort, as 
 though I had left undone something which should 
 have been done." 
 
 His anxiety to effect the improvement of others, 
 as we shall further see, was greater than to effect 
 his own improvement. 
 
HBRBBRT SPBKCER 245 
 
 This abnormal tendency to criticism he assigns 
 as the chief reason of his remaining a single man. 
 ''Readiness to see inferiorities rather than superiori- 
 ties must have impeded me in finding one who 
 attracted me in adequate degree." 
 
 Similarly to be explained as resulting from 
 inheritance is an allied trait — disregard of authority. 
 Few have shown this more conspicuously. 
 
 A closely allied trait has to be indicated, viz, : 
 the absence of moral fear. 
 
 'T contrast unfavorably with both my father and 
 mother in certain respects. I have never shown the 
 unfailing diligence which w^as common to them, and 
 there has not been displayed in me as great an 
 amount of altruistic feeling as was displayed by 
 both. 
 
 ''One apparent reason is that the circulation in 
 my brain has been throughout life less vigorous than 
 it should be. Besides his large brain, my father had 
 a large chest, and as a result an abundant supply of 
 energy. In my mother, the chest was below par, 
 and in me the factors are not the same, my visceral 
 constitution taking more after my mother, an obvi- 
 ous implication being that in the brain the blood 
 supply, when not increased by excitement, has been 
 below par. Hence a somewhat deficient genesis of 
 energy, at any rate not as great as in my father. 
 
 "Hence, in early days^ there was none of that 
 tendency towards cruelty which boys so commonly 
 display, but in the kind of beneficence distinguish- 
 able as positive, that which implies activity, there is 
 a decided difference between myself and my parents. 
 
 "I pass," says he, "now to those traits which are 
 more especially mental. Whatever specialties of 
 character and faculty in me are due to inheritance 
 are inherited from my father. Between my mother's 
 mind and my own, I scarcely see any resemblance. 
 She was very patient; I am very impatient. She 
 
 17— 
 
240 HERBERT SPENCER 
 
 was tolerant of pain, 1)odily and mental; I am 
 intolerant of it. She was little given to finding fault 
 with others; I am greatly given to it. She was sub- 
 missive; I am the reverse of submissive. Not only 
 in the moral characters just named am I like my 
 father, but such intellectual characters as are 
 peculiar are derived from him. 
 
 "Though an intuition is not inheritable, the 
 capacity for an intuition is, and I inherited an 
 unusual capacity for the intuition of cause. Always 
 my father had been prone to inquiries about causes. 
 This has been shown in my course of thought 
 throughout Hfe. 
 
 ''The next trait inherited from my father is the 
 synthetic tendency. That this was dominant in 
 him is proven by his little work entitled Tnventional 
 Geometry.' It scarcely needs saying that the 
 synthetic tendency has been conspicuous in all I 
 have done from the beginning. This was manifest 
 in my habit of castle-building in early Hfe. This 
 absorption went so far in me as to lead me to talk 
 to myself in the «^treets. and to pass those living in 
 the same house with me without knowing that I had 
 seen them, though I looked them in the face." 
 
 HIS GREATNESS 
 
 'Tn awarding points to the various candidates 
 for immortality," so says The Nation, ''in the Pan- 
 theon of Philosophy, few are entitled to a higher 
 mark on the score of positive and systematic form. 
 Long before any of his contemporaries had seized its 
 universal import, he grasped a great, light-giving 
 truth — the truth of evolution — and applied it to the 
 whole of life down to the minutest details of the 
 most various sciences. His facts, in short, seem 
 collected for a purpose; those which favored the 
 purpose are never forgotten." 
 
 Whatever he wrote or said received attention at 
 
HBRBBRT SPBNCBR 247 
 
 once, was discussed or influenced action. The com- 
 pletion of his phihsophy in England was regarded 
 as a suitable object for a national memorial. 
 
 Further, he had at least the satisfaction that 
 throughout the civilized world, friend and foe alike 
 would approve what he said and did. 
 
 Georgie Eliot uttered surprise at seeing no lines 
 on his forehead. His reply was: 'T suppose it is 
 because I am never puzzled." 
 
 Says William James, of Harvard : ''Rarely has 
 nature performed an odder or more Dickens-like 
 feat than when she deliberately designed or acci- 
 dentally stumbled into the personality of Herbert 
 Spencer. Greatness and smallness surely never 
 lived so closely in one skin together." 
 
 When we turn to his autobiography, the self- 
 confession is this : ''An old-maidish personage, 
 inhabiting boarding houses, equable and luke-warm 
 in all his tastes and passions, having no desultory 
 curiosity, showing little interest in either books or 
 people. A petty fault-finder and stickler for trifles, 
 devoid in youth of any wide designs on life, yet 
 drifting, as it were, involuntarily into the posses- 
 sion of a world formula which, by dint of his extra- 
 ordinary pertinacity, he proceeded to apply to so 
 many special cases that it made him a philosopher 
 in spite of himself." 
 
 Says one : "A philosophic saw-mill. The most 
 capacious and powerful thinker of all time." Says 
 another : "No other man that has walked the earth 
 has so brought and written himself into the life of 
 the world." Says still another : "Take one thought 
 alone — that which refers to the positive sense of the 
 unknown — as the basis of religion. It may unhesi- 
 tatingly be affirmed that the analysis and synthesis 
 by which he advances to the almost supernatural 
 grasp of this mighty truth give a sense of power and 
 
248 HERBERT SPEXCER 
 
 reach verging on the preternatural." Since Goethe, 
 no such ideal human being can have been visible. 
 
 Herbert Spencer was no abstract idea. He was 
 a man vigorously devoted to truth and justice as he 
 saw them, who had deep insight, and who finished 
 under terrible frustrations from bad health a piece 
 of work that, taken all in all, is extraordinary. 
 
 Says W. H. Hudson, of Stanford University : 
 "Science must necessarily end in the mystery with 
 which religion begins. That which persists unchang- 
 ing in quantity, but ever changing in form, under 
 the sensible appearances which the universe presents 
 to us is an unknown and unknowable power which 
 we are obliged to recognize as without limit in space 
 and without beginning or end in time, and this 
 noumena power in philosophy, of which all phenom- 
 ena are but manifestation, is the God of religion — 
 the infinite and eternal energy from which all things 
 proceed — was the God of Herbert Spencer. 
 
The Human Brain 
 
 The anatomy of the brain is so difficult, I will 
 scarcely touch upon it, except in a few words. The 
 largest and most important part of the brain is called 
 the cerebrum, and is situated in the upper part of the 
 skull, and for simplicity we will call it the upper 
 brain. It is composed of cells and fibers. The sur- 
 face is covered with a layer of cells about one-tenth 
 of an inch thick, which dips down in the fissures that 
 mark that surface of this organ and give it its 
 peculiar appearance. The cells in this layer, accord- 
 ing to Herbert Spencer, amount to 600,000,000 in 
 number. They are collected also into masses at the 
 base of the brain, and also into the spinal marrow, 
 which is an extension of the brain. 
 
 The function of the cells is to intensify activities, 
 which enter them, also to convert one kind of activ- 
 ity into another. The collections of cells mentioned 
 are called nerve centers, which we will again refer 
 to. I will but mention now that the cells are called 
 the gray matter of the brain. 
 
 Many of the cells have one or more extensions, 
 which are called fibers, and which connect one part 
 of the brain with another and w^hich convey nervous 
 actions from one part to another. 
 
 The greater part of the brain is made up of 
 fibers. Fibers connect the upper brain with the 
 lower brain and spinal column, also with the pos- 
 terior brain. They connect the gray matter of dif- 
 ferent parts of the brain, also the two sides of the 
 brain. When you come to study the association of 
 
 249 
 
250 rnii HUMAN BRAL\ 
 
 nuisciilar movements and of ideas, the importance 
 of this matter will be seen. 
 
 One fact about the fibers which connect the dif- 
 ferent cells of the brain deserving of notice is that 
 they have the power of contracting and extending 
 themselves. In other words, they are not so con- 
 nected but that they may be separated and then the 
 connection re-established. This fact was discovered 
 as late as 1889 by a Spanish histologist. Dr. Cajal, 
 and is now concurred in generally. The new method 
 of coloring nerve tissue enabled him to trace the 
 nerve fibrils to their ends. He showed that a central 
 nerve cell with its fibrils has no direct physical con- 
 nection with any other nerve cell whatever. He 
 found that the fibrils formed themselves, whatever 
 connection might exist, and that they operated inter- 
 mittently, and that under proper stimulation they 
 conduct their destined impulse over the connection. 
 For instance, in case we forget a certain thing it is 
 because the connection of certain parts of the brain 
 has been severed by contraction of its fibrils, and 
 when it is re-established by their re-extension, we 
 again remember the lost idea; just as wires are 
 connected and separated at a central telephone 
 office. By this arrangement, all parts of the brain 
 are not associated in action at all times, which would 
 be a great nuisance, and would lead to a perfect 
 bedlam. 
 
 Nerve centers are distributed through the mass 
 of gray matter that covers the brain, as w^ell as in 
 other parts of that organ. For instance, the centers 
 wdiich control the arm, leg and face are known to be 
 situated upon the side and top of the head. I opened 
 the skull once, of a man, for abscess of the brain, 
 and went down precisely on the right spot. Dr. 
 Eskridge had located it by the effect it had upon the 
 man's left \lrist. By the way, this is the first case 
 
THE HUMAN BRAIN 251 
 
 on record in which the skull was ever opened for 
 abscess of the brain. 
 
 The center of sight is known to be in the back 
 part of the brain. I saw, in consultation, once a boy 
 who had fallen on the ice, striking the back part of 
 his head. In a few weeks he became blind. When 
 an examination was made, after death, it was found 
 that this part of the brain had been destroyed by 
 suppuration. 
 
 One of the most interesting centers, from a 
 physiological standpoint, is that of speech. This is 
 found at the bottom of the brain on the left side. 
 There is no corresponding center on the right side, 
 but in left-handed persons the only center is on that 
 side. In certain cases, where this center is affected, 
 it is possible for the individual to understand what 
 is said to him, but he is unable to express himself 
 in words; in certain other cases, words convey no 
 idea whatever to the patient. 
 
 The spinal cord contains many independent cen- 
 terSj and the cord is, therefore, not a conducting 
 organ only between the outer world and the brain, 
 although many of its fibers run clear through to the 
 brain. A large part of human activity takes place 
 without any voluntary control, or even without any 
 consciousness on the part of the individual, and this 
 is due to the independent nerve centers of the spinal 
 cord. If it be cut across, all feeling and voluntary 
 motion below the cut is lost, but if the sole of the 
 foot be tickled with a feather the leg is drawn up, 
 though the man is unaware of it. Dr. John Hunter 
 mentions the case of a patient with paralysis of the 
 lower part of the body, in whose legs violent move- 
 ments, which he did not feel, were produced, when 
 the soles of the feet were irritated. When asked 
 whether he felt it, replied : ''No, sir ; but you see 
 my legs do." 
 
 The center of respiration and the center for the 
 
252 Tin: HUMAN BRAIN 
 
 heart's action also reside in the upper part of the 
 spinal cord. 
 
 I will give some evidences of mind, according to 
 Bain. These I will merely mention, without under- 
 taking to dilate on them : 
 
 "First — When a cat watches for a mouse, when a 
 dog finds its way home over a strange country, we 
 do not doubt that here are real signs of the presence 
 of mind. When a tree that is cut w^ith an axe shows 
 no signs of feeling the blow, w^e note that here 
 signs of mind are absent. 
 
 "Second — A capacity in the animal, observable 
 from without, to adjust themselves, by fitting move- 
 ments, to what takes place near them. 
 
 ''Third — They show signs of satisfaction or dis- 
 satisfaction, i. e., of pleasure or pain. Higher up in 
 the animal scale we meet with reactions of fear, of 
 anger, of joy, and of numerous other emotional 
 states. We may class all these as signs of feeling. 
 
 "Fourth — The animal, in proportion to its eleva- 
 tion in the mental scale, shows a disposition to be 
 determined in its present action by what has hap- 
 pened to it in the past; it seems to learn by experi- 
 ence. In other words, shows signs of memory and 
 docility. 
 
 "Fifth — The adjustment of an organism to its 
 environment involves the occurrence of responses, 
 which are initiated w^ithin — spontaniety. 
 
 "It must be admitted that it is only where the 
 signs of mental initiative appear in close connection 
 with signs of docility that they are of importance as 
 furnishing evidence of the presence of significant 
 mental life. 
 
 "The brain is the principal, although not the sole 
 organ of mind, and its leading functions are mental. 
 The proofs of this position are these : 
 
 "First — The physical pain of excessive mental 
 excitement is localized in the head. When mental 
 
THE HUMAN BRAIN 253 
 
 exercise brings on acute irritation, the local seat is 
 the head. 
 
 ''Second — Injury or disease of the brain affects 
 the mental powers. A blow on the head destroys 
 consciousness. Physical alterations of the nervous 
 substance (as seen after death) are connected with 
 loss of speech, loss of memory, insanity, or some 
 other mental derangement. 
 
 "Third — The products of nervous waste are 
 more abundant after mental excitement. 
 
 ''Fourth — Mental labor gives rise to slight eleva- 
 tion of the temperature of the head, as shown by 
 the thermometer. 
 
 "Fifth — By specific experiments on the brain of 
 animals, as well as man, it is shown that the brain 
 is indispensible to mental functions." 
 
 MEMORY AND REASONING 
 
 There are so many mental powers ,we cannot 
 notice each. There are a couple, however, so very 
 important that we must not fail to mention them in 
 passing. They are memory and reasoning. With- 
 out memory we cannot identify ourselves with our 
 past lives. We would have no histrionic value what- 
 ever ; we would be like a great number of independ- 
 ent beings. The memory has its foundation in our 
 bodily organization. If one ever has Smallpox or 
 many other specific fevers, he never has them a sec- 
 ond time. The body does not forget that he has 
 had them once. The first attack seems to work a 
 modification in the tissues of the body and the blood. 
 If a child cuts a hand to any extent, the body does 
 not forget to reproduce the scar as long as he lives. 
 
 The same is true, to a certain extent, with men- 
 tal memory. An impression on the brain works 
 some kind of modification in the brain which causes 
 it to never forget entirely the cause which wrought 
 it. The fact which produced it may lie dormant for 
 
2:a Tim Hi MAX bral\ 
 
 a long time, yet some bodily state, some state of the 
 blood, may reproduce it. In keeping with this fact, 
 we find that serious injuries to the head may cause 
 one to lose memory. The mind may become a blank 
 as far as all occurrences are concerned. One 
 peculiarity about such injuries is that it may be only 
 recent events that are forgotten. From this it would 
 seem that impressions must have time to work their 
 full effect or modification in that organ, and that if 
 the impression or sensation is wiped out too soon, 
 they are forgotten. These things show that mem- 
 ory has a physical basis to a great extent. 
 
 Again, if we had no memory, we could not learn 
 anything, could not make any progress in mental or 
 physical development. It should not be forgotten, 
 however, that memory lies deeper than the mind, 
 for there is an organic memory. The proper place 
 to begin the study of memory is the muscular tissue. 
 Muscular fiber responds feebly at first to the excita- 
 tion transmitted ; does so more vigorously the more 
 frequently it is stimulated. It gains more in activity 
 than in repose. We have here in the simplest form 
 the nearest approach to mental memory. But this 
 has nothing to do with the brain, so we will pass on 
 to reasoning. 
 
 "Reasoning is more especially a function of 
 brain, although dependent upon memory; though, 
 when we come to investigate the intelligence of 
 animals," so says Halleck, ''we find that their 
 reasoning is principally by association of concretes, 
 and a result of the structure of the brain, especially 
 its fibers. The dog that ran to the potato patch on 
 hearing the expression, 'The cow is in the potatoes,'' 
 knew from oft association of the word "cow" with 
 the object that the cow needed attention. The word 
 "potatoes" recalled the place. The dog that ran 
 directly to the mouth of the burrow and waited for 
 his prey, instead of chasing the rabbit's path which 
 
THE HUMAN BRAIN 255 
 
 finally led to the burrow, showed the effect of asso- 
 ciation. Repeated associations had caused the sight 
 of the rabbit vanishing down the burrow to rnake 
 such a deep impression on the dog that when he 
 started, the associated images ran through his mind 
 faster than his legs could take him. The dog imme- 
 diately rushed straight for the place indicated by the 
 image of the rabbit disappearing down the burrow, 
 arriving there first, because his association had out- 
 run his legs. 
 
 The pig that shook a tree to make the apples fall 
 had previously leaned against the tree to scratch 
 herself. This movement was associated with the 
 falling of apples, and both concrete ideas were asso- 
 ciated in the pig's memory. Generally, we may say 
 that the reasoning of animals is due to the contigu- 
 ous association of one concrete object, or set of 
 objects, with another. This may occasionally con- 
 tain the germ, but not the full flower of human 
 reasoning. 
 
 The brain of man, wdiich is the organ of mind, 
 like that of the higher animals, is greatly influenced 
 by association, and there are laws of association of 
 ideas which show the way in which ideas follow each 
 other ; one idea suggests another in accordance with 
 these laws. For instance, there is the law of con- 
 tiguity — that is, one state of consciousness suggests 
 another that is closely related to it in the brain. 
 Again, likeness and unlikeness suggest correspond- 
 ing ideas, etc. These suggestions are far more 
 extensive in man than in the animals. 
 
 Herbert Spencer defines mind as a correspond- 
 ence between inner relations and outer relations, and 
 claims that the outer relations suggest and call forth 
 the inner relations. This is true to a great extent 
 in animals, but is far more so in man, as he is a far 
 more complex being, when you take into considera- 
 tion his intellect, which extend their inner relations, 
 
256 THE HUMAN DRAIN 
 
 for example, through space, as in sight and hear- 
 ing, which gives them great advantage in escaping 
 enemies. We observe how, along with complexity 
 of organization, there goes an increase in the num- 
 ber, in the range, in the speciality, and in the 
 complexity of the adjustments of inner relations to 
 outer relations. 
 
 These co-relations are still better seen in the 
 objective appliances he uses. W'e may properly say 
 that in its higher forms the correspondence between 
 the organism and its environment is effected by 
 means of supplementary senses and supplementary 
 limbs. All observing instruments, all weights, meas- 
 ures, scales, microscopes, thermometers, etc., are 
 artificial senses. By means of the telescope, for 
 instance, he extends his inner relations through 
 space to the stars, wdien the proper sizes and motions 
 can be measured. Also in time, when he foretells a 
 thousand years before hand when an eclipse of a 
 certain planet will occur. And now, on returning 
 from this long digression, bringing with us the con- 
 ceptions arrived at, we find that they serve to eluci- 
 date the subject — the increase of the correspondence 
 in complexity between outer and inner adjustments. 
 
 GROWTH OF THE BRAIN 
 
 As 'the brain is the organ of the mind, we take 
 it for granted the growth of mind means growth of 
 brain. We do not mean enlargement of brain. 
 Growth may take place in other ways. For instance, 
 in intelligent races it is found the fissures on the 
 surface of the brain are deeper, giving room for 
 more surface matter (which is the thinking mater- 
 ial) than in the uncivilized. Again, there may be a 
 re-arrangement of the particles of matter in such 
 wise as to correspond with the capability for higher 
 thought and action. 
 
 The effect of thought and action is supposed to 
 
THE HUMAN BRAIN 'Zol 
 
 produce this re-arrangement among the particles of 
 the brain, and it is thought that this is the basis of 
 memory and progress. In whatever the minute 
 change in the brain consists, we are justified in 
 speaking of its adaptation to higher thought and 
 action as a growth. 
 
 The expression, therefore, that the brain grows 
 to our modes of thinking and acting is an intelHgent 
 one, and shows that exercise of the facuhies and 
 powers develop the brain. This belief is in favor 
 of those schools which lay great emphasis on train- 
 ing the mind rather than storing it with knowledge. 
 It goes upon the presumption, that if the mind is 
 well trained, it can accumulate and handle ideas 
 later in life; without this training it can neither 
 retain nor manage knowledge. The more we exer- 
 cise our memories, the better we can remember, and 
 the more we exercise our reasoning powers, the 
 better we can use our knowledge. 
 
 Of course, the acquirement of knowledge exer- 
 cises our powers of mind, but there are studies 
 whose effects are principally manifest in the way of 
 training, and which are of little value otherwise, 
 such as mathematics, the dead languages, and cer- 
 tain kinds of science, as logic for instance. Youth 
 is the time for the practice of these training studies, 
 while adult life is the time for accumulating knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 THE BRAIN AS AN INHIBITING ORGAN 
 
 The word inhibit is almost synonymous with pro- 
 hibit, yet in physiology the word inhibit is in gen- 
 eral use. The function of the brain in holding back 
 actvities is an important one. Upon the process of 
 inhibiting, i. e., of preventing or overcoming a form 
 of nervous excitement, the organization of all higher 
 life depends. What, in any situation, we are 
 
258 THE HUMAN BRAIN 
 
 rcstraiiK'(l from doing is as important to us as what 
 we do. 
 
 The nuuual opposition and balancing of numer- 
 ous tendencies is absolutely essential to normal life. 
 The brain receives at every waking instant an 
 enormous overwealth of sensory stimulation. If the 
 field of vision, for instance, is full of interesting 
 objects, all of them tend to excite various move- 
 ments of the eyes, so that no one thing could be 
 distinctly seen. In order to look steadily, for even 
 a moment, in any one direction, we, therefore, have 
 to inhibit all of these tendencies, except the one 
 whose triumph means seeing the preferred object. 
 One absorbed in writing or reading lets pass without 
 notice impressions to which, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, he would respond by acts of looking, of 
 listening, of grasping, or of other muscular move- 
 ments. Let him cease the higher activity and he 
 adjusts himself to the lesser matters of his sur- 
 roundings. An absorbed public speaker, or man in 
 a formal social company, inhibits or prevents those 
 movements, however habitual they are in other com- 
 pany and however strong, which his habits have 
 taught him to suppress, as being here out of char- 
 acter. 
 
 The rule of inhibition is that the higher a given 
 function is, the more numerous are the inhibitory 
 influences that it exercises over the lower centers. 
 Excite a child's brain to anything approaching 
 absorbing activity (example: by telling it an inter- 
 esting story), and for the time you keep it quiet; 
 otherwise, he runs about, wiggles, kicks, and prat- 
 tles. These may cease, by inhibition, when a story 
 begins. Self-control is an essential part of health, 
 and absence of it is a sign of nervous disorder, or 
 immaturity. 
 
 There is one instance in which the tendency to 
 self-control, or inhibition, becomes very unpleasant. 
 
THE HUMAN BRAIN 259 
 
 and that is in worry. Whether one rushes about or 
 lies still in pretended rest, whether his mood is this 
 or that, he is all the while inclined to act, and is busy 
 holding himself back from effective action. His 
 endless question, ''What shall 1 do?" his motor rest- 
 lessness, his petty and useless little deeds, all express 
 his inability to choose between the numerous tend- 
 encies to movement which his situation arouses. In 
 his dispair, he tries to inhibit all acts until a saving 
 plan shall appear; and so, accomplishing nothing, 
 he may do far more motor work than an acrobat. 
 But let the dreaded calamity over which he worried 
 befall him and the useless inhibitions vanish. The 
 recently worried man may hereupon become cool, 
 and may bear the worst so much more easily than 
 he could the uncertainty, and may find great relief 
 from the cessation of useless motor and mental 
 processes. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS ACTIVITY OF THE BRAIN 
 
 We attempt to recall a name and fail. We bring 
 to bear especial efforts in a round-about way, but 
 still we fail. We dismiss the matter from our 
 minds, and in course of time the name appears to 
 us, when we were not thinking about it. But it 
 seems that the brain does not dismiss it, but works 
 aAvay at it without our knowing it ; otherwise we 
 could not account for the fact that it solves the diffi- 
 culty. It is fair to presume that a great deal of our 
 thinking is done unconsciously, and that we spend 
 much of our time in unconscious reverie. 
 
 Of late years a great deal is made of this uncon- 
 scious mental activity. One writer. Dr. James, of 
 Harvard University, lays stress on our unconscious 
 self in religious m.atters, and thinks the Divine 
 Being acts upon this part of our natures. I was 
 present at a lecture given by Dr. Lancaster, at the 
 High School buikling, some time ago, the subject 
 
20U rilLi HUMAS BRAIN 
 
 being this uiicunsciuus action, when a lady asked 
 the question whether, in the inspiration of the 
 scriptures, the Diety might not have acted upon this 
 unconscious self of the writer? To which the pro- 
 fessor replied in the affirmative. 
 
 It would seem that these men look upon this 
 part of our natures as superior to our conscious 
 selves. For my part, I cannot see it in this light. 
 
 We have spoken of the cells and connecting 
 libers of the brain, and the way we regard this 
 unconscious action of the brain is that an activity 
 of one part of the brain is conducted to other parts, 
 and this condition is carried on by the fibers with- 
 out our knowledge by what is called the w'ork of 
 association. 
 
 It is true, our thinking without our knowing of 
 it may be just as correct, possibly more so, than 
 when we do know of it. Our knowledge of the 
 process is not necessary to make it effectual. We 
 try to repeat a poem, for instance, with which we 
 are familiar, and get off \vrong. If we concentrate 
 our minds upon our effort, we are liable to fail 
 worse than ever, Avhereas if we let one line suggest 
 another, we are more likely to succeed. Our atten- 
 tion seems to interfere with the associative process. 
 This convinces us that unconscious thinking is 
 largely an associative process, as is the case with 
 animals, and is due to the mechanical arrangement 
 of the brain, and is an involuntary passage of trains 
 of activity along its fibers, and is not due to the 
 superiority of the process of unconscious thinking. 
 
 Consciousness may interfere with the process, 
 just as seeing or looking around may interfere \vith 
 thinking by distracting attention, but it does not fol- 
 low that we are any higher being when our eyes are 
 shut. 
 
Indu^rialism 
 
 What interests man most in this hfe? What 
 receives the greatest amount of attention at his 
 hands, absorbs the most of his efforts, and has the 
 greatest amount of influence upon his conduct, char- 
 acter and destiny? The answer is subsistence; the 
 providing himself with food and clothing and all 
 the necessaries of life, and health and happiness. 
 
 After being born, to continue to live is the pri- 
 mary instinct and the first duty of every living 
 being. To subsist, we must work or produce. If 
 we do not work, we die. Every individual, by his 
 labor day by day, must provide as much of the 
 materials of subsistence as will support himself and 
 those dependent on him for that day. Work, then, 
 is the lot, duty and privilege of every member of the 
 community. Subsistence work is nature's founda- 
 tional condition of life, upon which not only the 
 existence of society, but the continuance of the race 
 depends. For a person to object to work or be 
 ashamed of working is as illogical as to object to 
 having a heart or brain. 
 
 That a person is not ashamed that he does not 
 work shows a mind uninformed or a character 
 depraved. The supply of the needs, wants and 
 desires of mankind is man's main business through 
 life. It affects every person in the world, as all sub- 
 sist. It absorbs more human energy and thought 
 than all the other interests and occupations of 
 humanity combined, as is shown by the fact that in 
 
 18- 261 
 
li()2 IX D US TRIAUSM 
 
 civilized countries 999 persons in every 1,000 are 
 engaged in work of one kind or another. 
 
 In some ages of the world religion has been 
 regarded as man's chief end, and his religious inter- 
 ests as the matters of primary concern. Yet you 
 cannot subsist on religion. If a person only inter- 
 ested himself in religion, he would die, if some other 
 person did not work for him and provide him with 
 subsistence. 
 
 In the middle ages -religion was supposed to be 
 the business of life. Look at the result: The 
 inherited civilization was lost, and Europe entered 
 upon a period of misery, moral degradation, and 
 debased superstition without a parallel in the world's 
 history. 
 
 As far as the benefits of religion are concerned, 
 I suspect I am willing to go farther than the most 
 of you. If proof were needed of the underlying 
 relationship between religion and industry, it w^ould 
 be found in the fact that the most religious nations 
 are economically the most prosperous. 
 
 The most energetic and prosperous industrial 
 communities are North America, Germany, Holland 
 and Great Britain, and we think it will be admitted 
 that these countries are those in which the religious 
 spirit and religious influences have the most power- 
 ful operative effect upon the masses of the people. 
 
 I will mention one benefit conferred by religion 
 on industry which is important, and that is the train- 
 ing of self-control. Abstaining from certain foods, 
 meats and drinks, from certain luxuries and pleas- 
 ures, for a day in the week or for a period of the 
 year, is a most useful check upon the aggressive 
 liabits of self-indulgence. 
 
 The perfect industrial man is not the individual 
 who thinks of nothing else and knows of nothing but 
 his selfish interests. On the contrary, the most 
 effective worker is the man who has an effective 
 
INDUSTRIALISM 263 
 
 sympathy with every form of human interest and 
 activity. The distance separating the rehgious 
 thought and the rehgious spirit from industry does 
 not weaken the useful inlluence of the one upon the 
 other. 
 
 There is another respect in which rehgion is a 
 benefit. There are many failures in the industrial 
 war ; many weary in the prolonged campaign ; 
 others lag behind in the march; others fall in with 
 misfortune, or meet with disaster, through no fault 
 of their own. It is the fortune of war. All equally 
 deserving do not return to be crowned with laurels. 
 To all these, religion extends sympathy and consola- 
 tion — the wrongs and misfortunes of this life will 
 be rectified and compensated in the next. So it is 
 that every form of religion which contemplates a 
 future existence, as all do, is a benefit in the consola- 
 tion it affords. The blood-thirsty savage, as well as 
 the Christian believer, receives comfort for his woes 
 in his anticipation of redress in a future life. Prob- 
 ably there is no form of religion, however hetrodox, 
 that does not afford this consolation to the unfor- 
 tunate. To them the world is hard, blind, unappre- 
 ciative and unjust. It would be cruel to refuse to 
 them the consolations religion affords. But still we 
 must work, for we cannot live on the consolations of 
 religion. 
 
 However beneficial religion may be to industry, 
 there are respects wherein it is injurious; for 
 instance, when the clergy belittle the importance and 
 dignity of life, or when they describe poverty as a 
 necessary, desirable or meritorious moral or relig- 
 ious state. 
 
 And then, again, religion is injurious when the 
 clergy preach doctrines which are economically 
 unsound and fatal to all industry. We believe 
 industry to be not only the absolute duty, but the 
 highest duty of the great mass of mankind. 
 
204 INDUSJ'KLIUSM 
 
 Modern civilization, with all its triumphs, is just 
 the recognition of the truth that the main and most 
 important business of mankind is the adequate sup- 
 ply of man's needs, wants and desires. When the 
 people's mind is not detiected or artificially intiu- 
 enced, their natural bent, their spontaneous recogni- 
 tion of the main purpose of life, is the supply, con- 
 servation and accumulation of the elements of sub- 
 sistence. When we consider the joy and physical 
 exhileration which work affords, we have traced it 
 as high as it is possible to do, to-wit : to the origi- 
 nator of all things. \ 
 
 It is not on account of the money value of labor 
 in which its worth consists, for a hard day's work by 
 man is only equivalent in energy to that produced 
 by five ounces of coal (five ounces, mind you, and 
 not five pounds), but it is its effects upon his body 
 and mind where its value comes in. These cannot 
 be estimated in dollars and cents. Although the 
 money value of a hard day's work be less than one 
 cent, yet there is satisfaction, content and pleasure in 
 zuork, especially when we add the pleasure and satis- 
 faction of producing something or earning a liveli- 
 hood. 
 
 It is true, work is not an inborn instinct, although 
 play is, but is an acquired capacity. It arises from 
 our bodily needs. Hunger is at the foundation of 
 all organic movement and striving, in either the 
 vegeta1)le, insect or animal world. It is at the bot- 
 tom of the struggle for existence. Man w^orks 
 because he is hungry. It is, as it were, a divine com- 
 mand to him. From the dawn of history until now, 
 man's principal business in life has been his pro- 
 vision for gratifying this appetite. Civilization is a 
 graft upon this primal economic effort, as culture 
 is a graft upon civilization. Religion, knowledge, 
 culture, political science, art and luxury are all 
 
IND USTRIALISM 265 
 
 grafts upon this foundational fact of economic neces- 
 sity of work. 
 
 Yet it would not be difficult, under the disguise 
 of religion, to make the masses lose their slowly 
 acquired disposition to work, and champion move- 
 ments of robbery and spoilation. 
 
 We know that socialism of the most dangerous 
 kind is not only tolerated, but fostered by misguided 
 religious teachers. 
 
 We have dwelt upon the fact that man's prin- 
 cipal business in life is to work, not only as a means 
 of affording content to all workers, but because it is 
 too much forgotten, or at least overlooked, at the 
 present day. Many dangerous movements in mod- 
 ern society, and much unnecessary discontent, min- 
 gles with the labor of our manual working classes 
 because there is a lurking opinion that work is 
 unnecessary and a badge of degradation. 
 
 Let us proclaim the truth, that labor is the prime 
 honor, as well as the prime necessity of life and 
 health; that so far from being a degradation it is 
 a duty and a privilege ; that it ought to be, and to a 
 properly constituted and healthy mind is, a genuine 
 source of happiness and pleasure. 
 
 We want to remove the conception that industry 
 is sordid and mean. On the contrary, industrialism 
 is a universal personal advantage. But universal 
 personal- advantage is and must be mutual advan- 
 tage. In helping himself, the industrialist assists his 
 rival, his neighbor and his country. The foundation 
 of industry is useful, beneficent action. If it is not 
 useful and beneficent, it is not industry. 
 
 ''He who w^orks merely for gain loses the soul 
 of labor, while he who labors for the sake of work 
 puts soul in every touch of the hands. Love of the 
 work that is to be wrought glorifies labor, even as 
 the sun glorifies the glistening mountain peak, and 
 itj last smile bathes the valley with golden splendor." 
 
266 INDUSTRIALISM 
 
 Man finds -in toil dif^^nity, beanty, and peace, 
 which afford the weary mind the sweetest and most 
 restorative rest. 
 
 While religion witJiout ivork is a poor substitute! 
 as is evident from the following quotation : 
 
 "But if any provide not for his ow^n, and espe- 
 cially for those of his own house, he hath denied the 
 faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
 
 Thus, you see, the scriptures place industry 
 ahead of religion. They make it more important 
 than a belief in God. Now that the scriptures take 
 this position, what are you going to say about it^ 
 \Miat are you going to offer in favor of the dead- 
 beat and tramp that perambulate this earth, however 
 Godly they may assume to appear? 
 
 The dominant thought should be that wealth is 
 a duty to the individual, a growing necessity to the 
 age, and t'hat the world needs many times over its 
 present capital. 
 
 Hence one of the best things we can do is to 
 leave it a little more; leave it a little better off by 
 adding a little more to its capital stock. 
 
 There is another side to our subject, viz. : 
 
 ACCUMULATION. 
 
 On the side we have treated lies production. On 
 the side we are now about to speak of lies accumula- 
 tion — the watershed of industry. Though it must 
 have production as an antecedent, it embraces the 
 process of saving. If we expend the remuneration 
 of our labors on pleasurable satisfactions, we can- 
 not accumulate. We have, therefore, to take notice 
 that to accomplish accumulation, self-denial is a pre- 
 requisite, especially of the humbler industrialist, who 
 seeks to rise from the ranks of chronic poverty. 
 With these, self-denial is the dominating fact gov- 
 erning accumulation. This is the only source of 
 accumulation open to the great mass of our working 
 
IND USTRIAUSM 267 
 
 population ; and this, I may observe, is a moral qual- 
 ity. I may say that, while productive industry, which 
 supplies the current needs and wants of society, is 
 a temporary and evanescent form of industry, 
 accumulation has for its purpose a future and per- 
 manent or relatively permanent object. A person 
 seeks to save that his accumulated earnings may 
 assume a permanent form, may go to join the stand- 
 ing or stored-up wealth that will permanently 
 improve the world, and human society that lives in 
 it. What a glorious thought ! It means helping the 
 Diety to make this world a more desirable abode for 
 man to live in. Is the man, therefore, who leaves 
 behind him something to help on the human race, 
 to help the world to become a better world, is he the 
 selfish man? Nay, verily, as the world has not half 
 wealth enough, I would say rather consider him 
 the selfish man who spends on himself and his 
 chums, in the way of dissipation and barbaric lux- 
 ury, all he can rake and scrape. What better can 
 we do than leave the world a little better off for 
 having lived in it? a little better for the next that 
 follows? I do not-include the miser, of course, as he 
 is a specimen of diseased and deranged manhood. 
 
 As an example of the former, witness Winfield 
 Scott Stratton, whose wealth will continue to effect 
 import and humane results long after his bones have 
 mouldered to dust. We would say shame on him 
 who points the finger of scorn at the man of fortune 
 because he does not use up all his assets while he 
 lives rather than have them go to benefit the world 
 after he is gone! 
 
 The greatest present-day triumphs of productive 
 energy are based upon and are the consequence of 
 its previous self-denial and accumulation. 
 
 Accumulation is, therefore, one of the main 
 sources of wealth. It depends on a moral quality- 
 self-denial. It is a dutv; it is a source of national 
 
■^66 IXDL'STRLUJSM 
 
 l)rosi)erity, and the millions who are engaged in it 
 only testify to its universal character. 
 
 There is aiiotlicr cud of industry zuorthy of 
 notice, and that is to establish the victory of man 
 over nature. 
 
 Now, where is there a force, a difficulty, or a 
 contingency man is not prepared to tackle? We 
 hear of areas the size of provinces to be re-afforested, 
 deserts to be re-watered and irrigated, isthmuses to 
 be cut by canals, mountains tunneled, straits bridged, 
 seas enclosed, pumped dry and tilled; every conti- 
 nent traversed by railways from end to end, and our 
 oceans ploughed by floating palaces at high speed. 
 
 New substances and forms of force have been 
 invented, which in themselves are not only new, but 
 absolutely unique. They are unknown to nature. 
 The power of waterfalls are transmitted in the form 
 of electricity, to give light and heat to drive indus- 
 tries in distant cities. The articulate sounds of the 
 human voice have been transmitted through the air 
 distances of nearly 2,000 miles. 
 
 Man is not only conscious of his victory over 
 nature, although a part of nature himself, but his 
 consciousness rings with this superiority, and the 
 national sentiment is inspired by it. 
 
 As a matter of fact, economic results are year 
 by year attained at a smaller expenditure of energy. 
 Life — individual life — is now more easily supported. 
 Not so long ago large masses of men had to pass 
 their life in unremitting toil simply to sustain exist- 
 ence.- Now^ merely to sustain life does not employ 
 a man's whole time and energies. He is left at his 
 choice with more time for other pursuits, such as the 
 discovery of truth, the dissemination of knowledge, 
 and the elevation of the race. 
 
 There is no nobler or more useful form of serv- 
 ice to humanity than industry ; than the full and 
 generous gratification of man's every need at the 
 
IND US TRIA IJSM 2m 
 
 price of the least sacrifice, that the most active intel- 
 ligences and hardest workers of the age can supply. 
 It is not only a service, it is a necessity, and, as a 
 necessity, it is the discharge of a primary duty — the 
 duty lying nearest at hand. 
 
 For development of character, the training of 
 the intelligence, and for world usefulness, no other 
 field of human experience surpasses intellectual 
 industry. All art, science, culture and civilization 
 was born after it, within it, and are continued by 
 its aid. But the reason is not that man's material 
 wants are less fully and adequately supplied. On 
 the contrary, they are more fully satisfied than ever 
 before. But, by reason of the growing efficiency of 
 industry, she attains many times over the same 
 result with a less expenditure of means. But it 
 grows by the aid and the leisure of time provided by 
 the effectiveness of industry. As industry becomes 
 more scientific, and wise, and efficient, so much more 
 the race's time and energy can be turned into other 
 channels and directed to other objects, such as the 
 means by which its own elevation is effected. 
 
 On the subject of productive work, I have had 
 mostly in mind muscular work, but the pleasures and 
 benefits conferred by brain-workers upon them- 
 selves, and upon the world at large, should not be 
 overlooked. But what I was going to say is that, 
 as the muscle centers in the brain are closely con- 
 nected with the mind centers, the habitual use of the 
 muscle centers greatly influences the latter. In other 
 words, the establishment of regular habits of muscu- 
 lar movements has much to do in the formation of 
 mental and moral habits; has much to do in the 
 making of the man. 
 
 Hence, when we arrive at a stage in life when 
 we can no longer do muscular work, we lose much — 
 we lose its salutary effects upon our thoughts and 
 moral natures, just as we lose much enjoyment as 
 
270 JNDUSTKIAUSM 
 
 civilizaiioii advances. For instance, by the use of 
 furnaces and steam heaters in our homes, we lose the 
 bright and clieerful wood fire. 
 
 We lose the old-time immemorial domestic 
 hearth, which has been the theme of optimists and 
 poets, who have lavished on it the most endearing 
 words and have associated with it their most delight- 
 ful thought. The fireplace has always been the 
 happiest rallying place of the family. Who does not 
 remember, when he remembers little else, the old- 
 time hearth-stone, around which the stories were 
 told which used to excite and interest the youthful 
 mind. 
 
 Here, too, the first manifestations of our gov- 
 ernmental policy appeared. 
 
 Your gas logs and electric appliances cannot 
 take the place of the old hearth-stone for pleasant 
 reminiscences in the mind of youth, the working 
 man, or decrepit old man, either. Yet it is to our 
 advantage to march with the procession, forego 
 these joys and give way to the progress of industry 
 wdiich we have helped to develop. 
 
 In other words, w^e lose in growing old without 
 suf^cient compensation, wdiile we lose by the 
 progress of industry and science the things that are 
 beautiful and dear to the heart. But there is abund- 
 ant compensation in the invention of new utilities, 
 such as steam and electric locomotion, the telegraph, 
 the telephone, and manifold other inventions; for 
 we must let intellect rule over us and not emotion. 
 
 For what has been said in this paper, I am 
 indebted to various sources, but especially to the 
 writings of one Mr. Bowack, as he was in turn 
 indebted to Schoupenhaur. 
 
The Fear of Death 
 
 The instinctive " dread of death is necessary to 
 the preservation of Hfe. The fear of death is very 
 deeply seated in all animal matter as an instinct. 
 We see it where life consists of a mere sack of fluid. 
 To conserve life and avoid death is one of the first 
 manifestations of life. When a lowly organized 
 mass of animal matter, as we find it in water, comes 
 in contact with a piece of ordinary matter that con- 
 tains nourishment, it spreads out around it so as to 
 absorb that nourishment; the reverse action taking- 
 place when the article it encounters is injurious. The 
 first signs of movement or life show that the sub- 
 ject has inherent in its nature a sense of the value of 
 life. This inherent sense of the value of life con- 
 tinues from the lowest organized being, where there 
 is no sign of a nervous system or indications of 
 mind, on up through to the most complicated struc- 
 ture, even to man himself. And we find in all beings 
 some arrangement for defense or protection against 
 whatever is dangerous to life. In some this con- 
 sists in the power of diminishing their size, as is the 
 case with the earth worm ; in others it is the power 
 to apparently increase their size, as by erecting their 
 hair or feathers, so as to make themselves formid- 
 able in appearance. In others, the escape from 
 enemies lies in their color, which is near that of 
 the grass or soil they inhabit, which renders their 
 detection more difficult. In this country, for instance, 
 it will be noticed that most animals and reptiles are 
 brown, such as the prairie dog, snakes, the antelope, 
 
 271 
 
L'7L' run I'l-AR Of DEATH 
 
 and other game, in others a shell is secreted over 
 the surface, which is the case with a large class of 
 tish and reptiles; while others, again, have pointed 
 armor or horns. 
 
 In man, his superior intelligence provides many 
 ways of defense and escape. At the same time, his 
 dread of death keeps pace with his intelligence, and 
 in many cases outstrips it; so that there is a dread 
 of death which is out of reason, or which reason 
 does not justify. The fear of death, which was 
 implanted in us for a good purpose, needs to be 
 controlled. 
 
 The instinct of fear in general is in childhood 
 often unduly developed by bad training and exam- 
 ple. In early childhood the impulse is very easily 
 awakened, so easily in fact, that a few words, or the 
 expression of the face, is enough to start it into 
 activity. The bare instinct is there, the direction 
 which it is to take rests upon circumstances of train- 
 ing. In such ways children become afraid of dark- 
 ness, of being alone, of ghosts, of thunder and 
 lightning, of dogs and cats, of anything at all wdiich 
 has been connected with the crude instinct of fear. 
 And too often the impressions remain far into adult 
 life, if not throughout. The especially bad thing 
 about it is the hue of timidity which they are apt 
 to give the person's entire character. This depends 
 to a great extent upon one's bodily temperament, 
 but it must be fought against with all your energy 
 from the first moment of its recognition. You must 
 call to your aid your common sense, your reason, 
 and your counter-instincts. You must know that 
 you can control the frailty. 
 
 Granting that fear as a natural instinct is not 
 unduly developed, at the same time there may be 
 enough in the dread of death to greatly impair the 
 happiness of life. This dread may be greatly les- 
 sened by reason, without rendering death attractive. 
 
THE FEAR OF DEATH 273 
 
 In the first place, it will appear, upon reflection, 
 that death is a merciful agent. What would this 
 world be without bodily death? 
 
 If there never had been war or pestilence or 
 epidemics, such as Cholera, Yellow Fever or Black 
 longue — no death, in other words, — the earth 
 would contain many thousand times its present 
 population. There would be many, very many, 
 where there is now but one, and moreover the worst 
 of it would be that the vast majority of them would 
 be old and decrepit. You may talk about dumb 
 thunder, dark lightning, or red-hot ice, or any other 
 absurdity, just as wxll as talk about people living 
 without growing old. The consequence would be 
 that the great majority would have to be supported 
 by the labors of the few. It would not differ, 
 whether it would be by charity or by taxation, the 
 fact would be the same — a few would have to main- 
 tain a population far beyond their capability. 
 
 And then they would be w^eakly, trembling, help- 
 less, old people. It would be a sad sight to behold. 
 They would be helpless, as much so as children; 
 could not wait upon themselves, could not even feed 
 themselves; and yet some, through a horror of 
 death, would seem to want them to live on and on 
 forevermore. 
 
 But suppose none died. Did you ever stop to 
 wonder wdiat the conditions of the earth would be 
 if none had died ? They would be too miserable and 
 horrid to think of, because they would be the 
 accumulated miseries from the foundations of the 
 earth. Even now there are places where population 
 exceeds the means of sustenance, so that some are 
 forced to go hungry. If there had been no death, 
 this evil would be vastly multiplied. Thousands 
 would be compelled to go half-starved ; their frames 
 would be emaciated, their eyes sunken in their sock- 
 ets, their faces would be ghastly, and the skin over 
 
Ii74 run I'liAR Of DEATH 
 
 ihc body would cleave to the bones; in fact, they 
 would be breathing skeletons. 
 
 Take the condition of a man who has lost all 
 motor activity, such as is the case in general par- 
 alysis. What could be more pitiable? Involuntary 
 movements may be preserved or exaggerated all 
 over the body, so that a strong puff of air in the face 
 would set the arms and legs going like a jumping 
 jack. Intense pain in the joints would most likely 
 occur, and the bones would become fragile and 
 easily break; hemorrhages under the skin would 
 arise from trifling force or injury, giving rise to 
 clots of blood in the tissues. The patient is confined 
 to his bed, fed like a small child, and the body is 
 simply a filthy, helpless mass of humanity; bed- 
 sores, superficial and deep, set in, and his inability 
 to shift his position to relieve the tedium of the situ- 
 ation or pressure upon his decaying parts adds to 
 his misery. And yet, shall we allow our natural 
 dread of death to come in and say he ought not 
 to die? 
 
 But if there were no death, these conditions 
 would be infinitely multiplied. 
 
 The last condition referred to is bad enough, but 
 one that is worse, if possible, is that of dementia, 
 or the loss of all mental activity, as we see in old 
 age. Loss of mind is a natural process of simple 
 enfeeblement and decay. The effect of age upon the 
 brain is to take out the energy of its gray matter 
 and destroy the power of thought and all activity. 
 Little by little there steals upon the body and mind 
 an inability to concern itself with matters that are 
 far removed from its own welfare. Let us contem- 
 plate the condition of such: 
 
 In extreme old age, the individual sits doubled 
 up in his chair, his head sunk forward on his breast, 
 his eyes staring straight before him, his jaw 
 dropped, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides, his 
 
THE FBAR OF DEATH 275 
 
 hands resting inactive, and his lower extremities 
 relaxed. He can neither dress nor undress himself. 
 Often he is dirty in his habits, and has to be cared 
 for like a child. The whole nervous system acts 
 sluggishly and without energy, for its topmost strata 
 are altogether out of action. He moves but little, 
 and undertakes no employment. He does not speak 
 unless addressed, and then answers not directly, but 
 after an interval in monosyllables, and is relieved at 
 being left alone. 
 
 In his mind the higher and liner feelings are 
 extinguished. Affections, regard for the feelings, 
 comforts and convenience of others is lost. Nothmg 
 remains but the appetite for food (and that is fickle) 
 and the desire for tranquility. Mind and conduct 
 are alike reduced to the lowest state. He even fails 
 to recognize his own children. 
 
 It is often noticeable that old dements become 
 fretful and irritable; their tempers are less under 
 control than formerly; little things excite them to 
 anger; they are also easily grieved; they take, 
 again, after an interval of many years, to weeping, 
 and their tears are elicited by insignificant matters. 
 If the old dement begins to whimper because his 
 food is not ready at the usual hour, he would be 
 looked on as betraying the childishness of old age. 
 Suppose that he screams aloud for his food and 
 creates an uproar, suppose that when his daughter 
 brings it to him a few minutes late he assails her 
 with foul language; suppose that he proceeds to 
 actual violence, and strikes her, overwhelming her 
 at the same time with abuse; in such case there is 
 mental derangement, or insanity, which I will pro- 
 ceed to notice. 
 
 The condition we have just noticed is bad 
 enough, and it would seem that death would be a 
 relief, but if your hostility to death will not allow 
 you to favor it and look upon it as a blessing, how 
 
276 rilH FEAR OP D EAT 11 
 
 iiiucli greater extremity would you ha\e us reduce 
 man to before you would be willing for him to die ? 
 
 We will refer to one more condition, which is 
 worse than dementia, and that is to mental disorder, 
 for, if possible, a disordered mind is worse than no 
 mind at all. Mental disorder may be of every 
 degree. Beginning w-ith the man who fails to 
 adjust himself successfully to his surroundings, and 
 hence fails in business repeatedly, and the man who 
 is a failure socially. There would be many lunatics, 
 with ill-kept bodies, their driveling spittle, constant 
 jargon and passions of wild beasts. Death for such 
 would be a relief, and if there were no death we 
 \vould think Providence to blame for not providing 
 one to end the sufferings of these poor wretches. 
 
 But if there were no hope of death, the prospects 
 of such would be pitiable indeed! 
 
 To favor the continued existence of such, 
 through prejudice of death, is as bad, if not worse, 
 than a murderous proclivity. Is not living such a 
 life worse than death? 
 
 But as there is a death, how grateful we ought 
 to be, how thankful for such relief. If death be 
 beneficent in any class of cases, wdiy not in all the 
 aged? 
 
 Alay not the reason why we do not see the 
 beneficence of it in all such cases l^e that we do not 
 look deeply enough? 
 
 By looking deeply, w^e wall see that there are 
 problems in nature that involve a conflict between 
 reason and instinct, and that our well-being depends 
 on the triumph of reason. 
 
 But it may be asked, why should we be called 
 upon to undergo such a conflict ? To this it may be 
 answered that it is for our own good. Why, for 
 instance, should we be called upon to undergo a 
 conflict with evil in the world at all? Could not 
 and should not evil have been left out? I believe 
 
THE FEAR OF DEATH 277 
 
 that we must answer no. Moral evil is, in a certain 
 sense, necessary. If it were wholly eliminated, 
 human life would lack an indispensible element. 
 Take away all evil and you abolish life itself. It 
 fiiiist be, not for its own sake, but for the sake of 
 the good. 
 
 We cannot conceive of the possibility of exter- 
 minating evil without at the same time striking at 
 the good. For, in short, we first become conscious 
 of the true worth of goodness through evil. All 
 the great heroes of humanity become such only by 
 struggling with evil. Hence, if we eliminate all 
 evil from history, we at the, same time eliminate the 
 conflict of the good with evil, and lose the high- 
 est and grandest possession of humanit}- — moral 
 heroism. 
 
 Likewise our heroism in the conflict of reason 
 against the dread of death depends upon the success 
 of the former, for in the struggle reason waxes 
 strong and fortifies us against the event. Althoug-h 
 to control a natural instinct is no easy matter. The 
 object is not to destroy the fear of death entirely 
 (this were a detriment to us), but to overpower its 
 dread by reason. This involves a conflict of a 
 natural powder with a natural instinct, and the con- 
 test contributes to our uplift. 
 
 One of the strongest and most satisfactory rea- 
 sons in relation to the matter of death is the impos- 
 sibility of organizing and perfecting a body that 
 would not wear out, particularly a body capable of 
 a high action, such as thinking, feeling and delicate 
 movements, for there are some things that are 
 impossible, even with an Omnipotent God Himself. 
 And were such a thing possible, previous considera- 
 tions have shown it would not be for the best. 
 
 The limited durability of its tissues is a suffi- 
 cient reason for its failing to live forever. This 
 limited durability is the true cause of death, and no 
 
 19- 
 
278 THE FEAR OF DEAT,. 
 
 derogatory reflections ought to arise on that account, 
 as no one is to blame, death being a necessity and 
 not a punishment. W'e are sure the composition of 
 the body could not have been arranged in such wise 
 as to preclude death. 
 
 The heart, in course of years, will lose its irrita- 
 bility; the glands of the stomach will shrink and 
 lose their efficiency; all the tissues will become 
 inflexible and stiff ; the eye, by reason of changes in 
 the shaj^e of its lense, will become dim ; the cells of 
 the brain will dwindle and finally disappear, and that 
 organ will lose the power of thought or reacting at 
 all. In fact, the whole body will become a worn- 
 out machine, and death is desirable to remove it. 
 And we find that the aged pass out of life as natu- 
 rally and as easily as they came into it. Whatever 
 hope religion affords is that much positive con- 
 solation. 
 
 THE END 
 
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