ETHICS 
 
 ARIWUR EWStGH 
 
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 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
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ETHICS 
 
ETHICS 
 
 AN EXPOSITION OF PRINCIPLES 
 
 By 
 ARTHUR LYNCH 
 
 Author of •' Moods of Life,'* etc. 
 
 » J • %y 
 
 ¥ 
 
 CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD 
 
 London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne 
 1922 
 

 :'\ *S 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The greatest problem presented to the human mind, it seems 
 to me, is that of ascertaining- the ultimate purport of all 
 problems. In this phrase we express the veritable meaning 
 of Ethics. 
 
 To discover new things in the material world, to invent 
 machines useful to mankind, to find means of counteracting 
 or of preventing disease — these achievements are great; but of 
 a higher cast is that of exploring in the unknown worlds 
 of thought, of conquering new domains of intellectual in- 
 terest, of increasing the power of the mind, and of standing 
 upon some headland to obtain forward visions of life and 
 clear illumination of the paths to tread. 
 
 From my earliest years questions of the sort have 
 fascinated me, and at every period of my life they have 
 appeared, sometimes in far-off allurement, sometimes in 
 pressing insistence, before my mind, weaving together with 
 the texture of my thoughts. To study in this field, to see 
 the drift of things in an ethical sense, to throw a beam of 
 light upon the sources and the goal of our acts — this became 
 the dream of my inner life. 
 
 The first suggestion that offered was to seek the guidance 
 of thinkers who had gone before; for the difficult nature 
 of the problem has not prevented the appearance of a 
 multitude of solutions, some possessing great authority 
 in regard to social institutions and customs, others of high 
 import in the famous universities of the world. 
 
 Had I found any of these solutions satisfactory I should 
 
 479682 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 never have desired to write my own book ; but one by one 
 I saw that these previous works failed to answer certain 
 tests which, once they had become formulated, seemed to 
 me imperative. I demanded that the system of Ethics, 
 however presented, should rest on a deep base, and that it 
 should rise by reasonings, cogent and consecutive, to the 
 conclusions it expressed. Judged in this manner some of 
 them, and not the least authoritative, seemed to dwindle 
 into sheer absurdity. 
 
 Throwing away, therefore, the guidance of the mere 
 coasting lines, I sought for better methods ; but then I 
 seemed confronted by an almost hopeless task. So vast a 
 tangle, so many obscure positions lay in the way, that I 
 found it necessary at length to take an entirely new cast 
 of thought, and to deal first of all with the psychological 
 problems which entered at every turn into the subject of 
 Ethics. 
 
 This diversion into the realm of psychology occupied me 
 many years and involved the strain of intense toil, but 
 having at length finished my work on that side I was able 
 to return, and now with added powers, to my special study 
 of Ethics.* 
 
 The task I set myself now was to find in the conditions 
 of nature itself the sanctions of an ethical system, and to 
 exhibit the main lines which on this basis serve as a guide 
 to human conduct. Having discovered these, I had next 
 to show the principle of development by which standards of 
 judgment are established and from which institutions arise. 
 
 ^ C/. " Psychology : A New System " and " Principles of 
 Psychology " (forthcoming). I certainly should have had no reason for 
 writing these books had I thought that the ground had been ade- 
 quately covered before. So far from this being the case, however, I 
 found it necessary even to state the central problem of psychology 
 afresh and to introduce a new series of considerations in order to 
 obtain my sohition. I therefore say definitely now that I have shown, 
 for the first time, the complete analysis of reason, and I have proved 
 that by the combination of certain Fundamental Processes every mode 
 of thought may be built. The consequences of this theory are, of 
 course, innumerable. 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 This manner of regarding ethical questions is more 
 objective than that of previous systems, but it gains in 
 solidity and loses nothing of what is true in spirituality on 
 that account, for though not directly aimed at, there 
 emanates from this work, since it is found in the meaning 
 of the world itself, an inspiration of Idealism. 
 
 I offer it now in the hope that it will at length become 
 interfused with our very forms of thought and serve to guide 
 us even in delicate adjustments of human affairs. This 
 system of Ethics has reality of life ; it sets forth the doctrines 
 of Truth, Energy, Sympathy.^ 
 
 ^ I have, in order to possess a short distinctive name, called this 
 system the Aletheian system, from the Greek dXi^Oeia, truth. The first 
 book is the forthcoming " Principles of Psychology," the second is 
 " Ethics." 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 SURVEY AND CI.EARANCE 
 
 CHArTER 
 
 Introduction 
 
 1. Vaudity of] Reason 
 
 Three principal methods of dealing with Ethics, 
 
 authoritative, empirical, scientific . . 8 
 
 2. Glances at the History of the Development 
 
 OF Ethics 
 
 Socrates known to us through Plato — Aristotle's 
 ideal — The " germinal idea " of Aristotle's 
 work ...... . 14 
 
 3. The Stoics and the Epicureans 
 
 Causes of influence in Philosophy — ^The Stoic doc- 
 trines — The doctrine of Epicurus . . 26 
 
 4. Bridging the Dark Ages 
 
 The Roman Empire gave the juridic foundation 
 to civilization — Dante's Divine Comedy — 
 The work of Roger Bacon, Copernicus, 
 Galileo, Descartes ..... 30 
 
 5. The Rise of English Philosophy 
 
 Francis Bacon's " Novum Organum " — Hutche- 
 
 son — Hume and Adam Smith - - - yj 
 ix 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ;hapter pa&e 
 
 6. Types of German Phii^osophers 
 
 Kant — ^The origins of the Transcendental Philo- 
 sophy — Hegel ...... 40 
 
 7. Types of Engush Phii^osophers 
 
 Herbert Spencer — Bentham — Carlyle — The teach- 
 ing of Tennyson and Ruskin ... 48 
 
 8. The Contribution of B101.0GY 
 
 Claims of Biology — Huxley's warning — Examina- 
 tion of the formula : " Survival of the Fittest" 
 — Lamarck's theory of Evolution — Dar- 
 win's theory of Natural Selection — Review of 
 the principal phases of doctrine of Evolution 
 or Transformism — From Lamarck to Ray 
 Lankester ...... 62 
 
 9. Ethics as a Science 
 
 The science of Ethics is analogous to that ''of 
 meteorology and involves various subsidiary 
 sciences 83 
 
 PART II 
 
 STANDARDS, DIRECTIVES, AND CRITERIA OF 
 DEVELOPMENT IN ETHICS 
 
 I. Search for the Foundation of Ethics 
 
 Difficulty of finding a base on which to build — 
 Seeking aid in Psychology — Brief statement 
 of guiding Unes in Psychology : A New 
 System — Fundamental Principles of Ethics 
 — Truth, Energy, Sympathy ... 97 
 
CONTENTS xi 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 2. Truth 
 
 Principle of Truth leads to science — ^Thence to 
 the development of the faculty of general- 
 ization as a criterion . . . . 112 
 
 3. Energy 
 
 Energy is a test of importance in the physical 
 world and in simple organism — Hence in man 
 — Examples of Napoleon — Caesar — Hannibal 
 and Alexander. ..... 135 
 
 4. Sympathy 
 
 Sympathy is high poetic feeling — Justice springs 
 from Sympathy — It arises naturally but 
 may be developed ..... 171 
 
 5. Standards of Type 
 
 Suggestions from Biology — Complexity of tj^pe 
 
 corresponds to degree of development . 189 
 
 PART III 
 ENCOMPASSING CONDITIONS 
 
 1. The Immortauty of the Soui, 
 
 The question of Immortality affects the view of 
 Ethics— Plato's Phsedo— St. Paul—Berke- 
 ley — Spiritualism ..... 213 
 
 2. Ideals and Purpose 
 
 The ideal moves men even when not recognized 
 — Science is an ideal — Art — Beauty — Pur- 
 pose 234 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 PART IV 
 COROI.I.ARIES AND APPI^ICATIONS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 1. Questions of Government 
 
 Is revolution ever justified ? — Democracy and 
 
 Aristocracy 245 
 
 2. War 
 
 Can war be eliminated ? — Advantage of Co-opera- 
 tion — The Avoidance of War . , . 259 
 
 3. Favourite Ethic ai. Qualities 
 
 Courage — Prudence — Temperance — Humility — 
 
 Tolerance — Benevolence — Pleasure — Duty . 271 
 
 4. Certain Morai, Probi^ems 
 
 Disease — Prayer for Divine Intercession — Sin 
 
 — Wastage of Intellect — Pain . . . 300 
 
 Generai, Summary 315 
 
 Index 319 
 
Part I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 After a reference to three modes of dealing with the problems 
 of Ethics, brief notices follow of some of the famous ethical 
 systems of the world. None of these is found satisfactory. 
 The theory of evolution is then discussed. Then an objection 
 of Levy-Bruhl as to the possibility of a " legislative " science is 
 examined. This first part clears the ground. 
 
ETHICS 
 
 SURVEY AND CLEARANCE 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Man has already in being born begun the most adventurous 
 of all voyages. 
 
 To be cast on a little island in space, coming we know 
 not whence, going we know not whither, yet certain that 
 our acts tell not only on our own happiness but on 
 the whole course of human affairs ; that is a situation more 
 wonderful than anything contrived in our own imagination. 
 Within this mystery human life must be wrought out till 
 its inevitable termination in death, and in that life are 
 played the myriad scenes that finally resolve into the inter- 
 action between the physical universe and the human body 
 and mind with the diverse faculties, needs, desires, passions, 
 memories, regrets. 
 
 A good part of our lives are led, or compelled, in some 
 fashion by forces that lie outside our ken ; yet as man has 
 developed in society he begins to find a certain order in the 
 universe, a regularity and a method that finally suggest 
 to him the *'laws " by aid of which he predicts and to some 
 extent controls nature. 
 
 In the moral world, in the world of aspirations and 
 passions and ambitions, of will, of accomplishment, of con- 
 science, of character, we feel, too, that there are great 
 governing principles of which the laws have escaped us 
 because the conditions are so various and so uncertain. 
 
 Yet at all times men have felt the need of guidance, 
 even though of vague direction, and in view of the immensity 
 and perpetual marvel of the world that sweeps about them 
 they have felt that these principles must be sought in some- 
 thing not included wholly in their own immediate conditions. 
 
 3 
 
ETHICS 
 
 In the ekrly days of civilization the principles have been 
 enunciated at various times and to various peoples in the 
 form of ''laws " delivered direct from the God of the universe, 
 or purporting- at least to have divine origin ; and these laws 
 have been peremptory and certain in proportion as the 
 civilization has been primitive. 
 
 At a later date thinkers sought to find in the conditions 
 of the universe itself, and more particularly in the general 
 circumstances of human society, the explanations and ulti- 
 mately the sanctions of these laws. And as thus, once 
 the conditions become formulated and reasons given for the 
 form of laws, we are entering- however precariously into 
 the domain of science, then the natural development of such 
 systems of ethics would be towards a more comprehensive 
 and more accurate expression of the whole matter. 
 
 The problem has been attempted again and again, for 
 the history of ethics records the names and achievements 
 of men so illustrious as Aristotle, Kant, and Herbert Spencer. 
 
 In the course of this exposition, however, and with a 
 better view of the magnitude and complexity of the problem, 
 the achievements of these great thinkers will appear but 
 tentative, and, where not false, insufficient to the purpose; 
 and what is said of them may be repeated but with greater 
 force in regard to others — famous philosophers who have but 
 offered amendments or glosses of earlier theories. 
 
 For my own part I would not have written at all had I 
 considered it necessary to buttress my position by authority, 
 but I have depended so little on aid from that source that 
 the very form and manner in which I have presented my 
 arguments may disconcert those whose brains have become 
 saturated with the routine teachings of the schools, barren 
 as these have been in the development of our civilization. 
 
 At no time have I sought originality for the sake of 
 being original ; I have been perhaps too submissive in receiv- 
 ing or in endeavouring to assimilate the works of my fore- 
 runners, certainly more submissive, I hope, than the race of 
 thinkers whom I shall stimulate by these new views and 
 to whom I shall leave the task of their elaboration and 
 their fecund applications. 
 
 This work of ethics follows the "Principles of Psycho- 
 logy" in a natural synthetic order, but in point of time 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 and in the interest of my speculations it precedes the work 
 of psychology. 
 
 Briefly, the history of that succession is this : 
 From my childhood the great preoccupations of my 
 mental and moral nature were to find the indication of 
 some goal in life, of some purpose, and thence of a sure 
 guidance. The meditations that followed induced me to 
 examine with the closest attention the instrument itself, that 
 of reason, by which I was endeavouring to explore these 
 mysterious ways. The study of reason led me to the 
 enunciation of the central problem of psychology, and I 
 remained with my mind concentrated on that question until 
 I had satisfied myself that I had solved it. Rising from 
 that prolonged toil, I saw that I had gained something that 
 had escaped my predecessors, and that, once in possession 
 of those elements which I have called the Fundamental Pro- 
 cesses, I could throw a beam of illumination on all kinds 
 of problems that had hitherto baffled me.* 
 
 The exposition of Ethics followed then naturally in 
 synthetic order, for their research had been the starting 
 point of discovery of the truths of the psychology. 
 
 With the entry into the domain of ethics the problem 
 becomes even more complex, for it comprises not only the 
 methods of other sciences, as indicated in the psychology, 
 but a knowledge as far as is permitted to us step by step 
 of the conclusions gained. 
 
 The central problem as it appears to me may be stated 
 thus : Standing in the universe, regarding all its phenomena 
 and in face of all the world of thought, to endeavour to find 
 by the force of reason alone, if not the goal or purpose of 
 our lives, at least great cardinal lines of guidance towards 
 higher development, and to exhibit these as derived from a 
 fundamental base by clear and consecutive arguments. 
 
 Evidently in order to form correct notions of man's place 
 in the cosmos it is necessary to gain, if only in vague outline, 
 some true conception of the cosmos itself. 
 
 ^ The complete exposition of these Fundamental Principles con- 
 stitutes the main part of " Psychology : A New System," and my 
 forthcoming " Principles of Psychology." 
 
ETHICS 
 
 Our positive sciences are intended to make clear, each 
 in its sphere, some portion of the world with which they 
 deal; and so we see that a study of ethics involves a con- 
 templation of the whole inorganic and organic world — that 
 is to say, practically a survey of all the sciences illuminated 
 by the light of psychology. 
 
 It may be objected that few ethical writers, even the 
 greatest, have considered such matters at all, and that those 
 especially who have been most emphatic, and whose in- 
 fluence has been greatest in a popular sense, have either 
 ignored science or have fought against its right to be heard. 
 My comment is simply that such teachers have contrived 
 to write abundant nonsense, and that however popular their 
 works may have been at one time, the permanent value is 
 of no high order. 
 
 It will be remarked further that we find a certain pro- 
 gressive character, if not in the principles of ethics, at least 
 in our appreciation of them as we become more and more 
 acquainted with science and as our mental horizon broadens. 
 
 This remark is entirely justified and especially in 
 regard to the application of the principles ; but it is possible 
 nevertheless to mark out main lines of guidance of such 
 a character that subsequent modifications are taken within 
 their boundaries. 
 
 In the present work I prefer to restrain the tendency 
 to applications of too detailed a character, because in pre- 
 senting a series of new notions I desire that the mind of 
 the reader may not be confused by over-elaboration or by 
 discussions of side issues. 
 
 In tracing the consequences of the main principles it 
 would be facile to use the word "revolutionary," but that 
 would not be justified ; for the changes indicated, however 
 important to ourselves at the present epoch, will be seen 
 subsequently to have been comparatively superficial in com- 
 parison with the vast amount of hereditary capital in thought 
 and manner which the ages have brought out for our race. 
 
 The image that comes to my mind in contemplating the 
 new order of things in the moral world is that of the earlier 
 navigators to whom the suggestion came that a new world 
 of experience, of adventure and of life, might lie beyond 
 the Pillars of Hercules. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 In looking- at a map representing the world as known, 
 for example in the days of Homer, one finds that the ambit 
 of men's explorations and imaginings, though circum- 
 scribed, seemed at that time fairly complete. With the 
 wondering thoughts of the Unknown, of the Beyond, mingled 
 the vagnae thrill of terror, less on account of physical perils 
 than of the resistance to the rush and surge of new ideas 
 and new emotions that threatened to flood the mind and 
 sweep away the reason. So also has it been with every step 
 in the moral world. 
 
 Yet the discoveries of new shores, while adding to man's 
 possessions, did not rob him of any attributes; it g-ave him 
 increased scope, hig"her sense of power, ampler fullness and 
 dignity of life. 
 
 So it is in the realm of ideas. It behoves us to guide 
 our way solely by the truth, and to press forward in expecta- 
 tion, in wonder, and in delight wherever possible, but above 
 all with souls alive to the sense of a great destiny. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 Validity of Reason 
 
 The problem of ethics is itself ill-defined, and the methods 
 of its solution have hitherto been either tentative and un- 
 certain, or else marked simply by the expression of law 
 wittiout demonstration. 
 
 The subject has been approached in various ways, and 
 under the impulsion of different motives, but in broad lines 
 three different methods stand out in their salient features. 
 
 The first of these is authority, and in the circumstances 
 this can hardly be otherwise than divine authority, real or 
 imputed. 
 
 The second, which is the most popular amongst those 
 to whom authority alone is not satisfying, is really a com- 
 posite formed of the prevailing notions of the society of the 
 time, the temperament of the philosopher, the teachings of 
 others who have preceded, the vague aspirations of poets 
 and seers. This may be called the academic or empirical 
 method. 
 
 The third involves rather a searching of the conditions 
 of the whole universe, the physical domain and the world 
 of society in which we live; and on the basis of that 
 searching the endeavour to draw certain conclusions, which 
 should seem to determine our conduct, at least in the main 
 lines, in the critical occasions of life. This may be called 
 the scientific method. 
 
 An objection has been raised to this manner of viewing 
 the science of ethics by an acute French thinker, Monsieur 
 L. L6vy-Bruhl, who points out that it is the business of a 
 science not to direct the applications that follow from cer- 
 tain principles, but rather to study the field, which in this 
 case consists partly of the emotions, desires, morals, laws, 
 so as to elucidate the nature of the reactions concerned. 
 This aspect of the matter will be considered in a special 
 
 8 
 
VALIDITY OF REASON 
 
 discussion, wherein I believe it vi^ill be shov^n that it is 
 proper to speak of the science of ethics in the sense of 
 discovery of the main lines of direction to human conduct. 
 
 The history of ethics will be briefly recalled in ensuing 
 chapters, for this will enable us to lappreciate the nature 
 and scope of the whole question, and to recognize the com- 
 plexity and the subtlety of the speculations involved, as 
 well as to prepare our minds for the recognition of a 
 scientific treatment, freed as far as possible from the bias, 
 or the prejudices, or the aspirations of the philosopher, 
 and from such influences of his environment as are not 
 permanent. 
 
 One of the most difficult tasks in the studies of ethics 
 is to obtain a certain objectivity of regard. What we here 
 call ethics is inextricably interwoven with forms of religion, 
 early education, the inculcation of various precepts, the 
 influences of patriotism and of race, of all that helps to 
 give a direction to the thoughts in regard to ideals and to 
 purpKDses; it is therefore extremely difficult to disengage 
 one's mind from teachings that have become incorporated 
 into the body of one's thoughts almost as If assimilated 
 by an organism, and which have the protection of the high- 
 sounding names of faith, or patriotism, or duty. 
 
 There exists in many minds even a prejudice against 
 turning the searchlight of science upon accepted beliefs; 
 it is felt that such an act is in itself a sort of wickedness 
 that vitiates at the beginning any possible good resulting 
 from the examination ; and the protest against such pro- 
 ceedings and the distrust of the result of the criticism are 
 always greatest with those whose dogmas are uncompromis- 
 ing and whose faith is absolute. 
 
 Yet there should not of itself be anything irreligious in 
 ascertaining the foundations of a religion, nor immoral in 
 assuring to the depths of things the right foundations of 
 our conduct. One is inclined to suspect in uneasy minds 
 some secret laxity of faith, and some predilection even for 
 false moralities if only these be indulgent to personal 
 inclinations- 
 
 In this matter the man of science gives evidence of a 
 better spirit than the believer, for he desires to see tested 
 the theories on which he builds, and none of these is so 
 
ro ETHICS 
 
 sacred as not to be rejected if it be found inconsistent with 
 the facts. 
 
 Thus the theory of gravitation was readily accepted when • 
 first demonstrated, and not a star has crossed the meridian 
 since but a confirmation has been found of the truth of 
 the law enunciated by Newton. 
 
 The theory of Relativity, however, and some of the 
 phenomena revealed in the study of radiation, have led 
 physicists to consider tliat the law of gravitation may be 
 found to be a particular instance of some deeper law, and 
 that possibly it may be subject to exception in the case of 
 atoms or their constituents and at infinitesimal distances. 
 
 The man of science does not reject such possibilities on 
 the grounds of faith, and so far from finding experiments 
 and tests and research reprehensible, he feels that any facts 
 inconsistent with the old theories will lead him on to new 
 and f>erhaps wonderful discoveries. The man who plumes 
 himself on his faith, and tries to stay the march of science 
 to within his own compass, writes himself down as a being 
 inferior mentally and morally to the most modest and patient 
 toiler of the laboratory. 
 
 One sometimes hears the argument, and its tacit use is 
 more powerful than its direct statement, that though a 
 certain doctrine may not be actually true, yet it is of so high 
 and elevating a character, so "spiritual," that it should be 
 maintained and taught even at the expense of adapting the 
 truth to its needs. To such a view the whole course of 
 this book is opposed, and in the exposition it will be 
 abundantly evidenced that it corresponds to a pernicious and 
 immoral state of mind.^ 
 
 Idealists seem often to forget that the great act of 
 creation has already taken place, and that the ideal must 
 be found in harmony with the order of the universe as it 
 exists. 
 
 The mere imagining of ideals is therefore an otiose em- 
 ployment, even though it be almost universally commended. 
 
 ^ Certainly it is customary to hear men discussing the ideal 
 world, in particular the future world, with various degrees of 
 appreciation of aesthetic qualities or moral needs, as if a free choice 
 existed ; so much so, that the exclamation of one disputant remains in 
 my memory as a summing up of the situation: "There's Heaven!" 
 he exclaimed. ** You've got to take it or leave it ! " 
 
VALIDITY OF REASON ii 
 
 The highest work of the intellect consists not in devising 
 new worlds, or supposed appropriate conditions, but in 
 exploring the world as it is, endeavouring to find the laws 
 by which its phenomena are regulated, and raising our 
 vision to the deeper contemplation of realities as they are 
 successively revealed. 
 
 In this manner, be it noted particularly, we lose nothing 
 of moral uplifting. An example comes to my mind that 
 will indicate my meaning. Amongst the great adventures 
 of my life I recall the reading of Milton's "Paradise Lost" 
 at a time when, with enforced leisure, my mind was free 
 to expand, to dream, to wonder. In this reading I saw in 
 the poem many marvels that had escaped me, I recognized 
 the wonderful artistry by which the words were chosen so 
 as best to lend their sensuous impressions to the meaning, 
 and I beheld and felt the wondrous flow of the verse in its 
 full majestic sweep. 
 
 I contemplated the architectural structure of the Heaven, 
 and Hell, and Earth, that Milton's genius had wrought out 
 in the delicate but brilliant essence of ideas; but all this left 
 me cold ; I found the poem inspired only when, leaving this 
 mechanical form, the poet used the epic as the instrument 
 of the record of his own spiritual pilgrimage. 
 
 Then from the imagination of this great poet I turned to 
 the writings of one who called poetry "a sort of ingenious 
 nonsense," but whose own mind had within a narrow sphere 
 commented on the poetry of the greater world. 
 
 "The thoughts that wander through eternity" begin 
 first to grope and feel their way in the painful but sure 
 steps of consecutive thought; and it is that close and severe 
 reasoning, and not imagination, that makes the glory of 
 Newton's work. But by the efforts of his genius he has 
 given us a glimpse of the veritable architecture of the world ; 
 not of fluted columns and fretted vaults, or gold-inlaid archi- 
 traves; but that subtle and dazzling concept that all this 
 mighty mass is held together by forces, attractions or repul- 
 sions, and movements obeying simple laws. 
 
 I contemplate the sun with its photosphere of a diameter 
 a hundred times that of the earth, with a temperature of 
 over 6,000° centigrade at its surfaces, and spots on that 
 surface representing craters of volcanic eruptions into which 
 
12 ETHICS 
 
 our earth could fall like a child's ball into a furnace; and 
 from the storms and emanations of which radiant influences 
 are sent out that disturb our electric instruments over 
 ninety million miles away, and give us in the Aurora 
 Borealis visions of surpassing- delicacy and splendour. How 
 poor then in comparison appear the imaginings of a Milton, 
 a Goethe, a Shelley. . . . Truth is the imagination of 
 God. 
 
 If then a doctrine be found true it must be maintained 
 for ever; if a doctrine be found false, then the account 
 is closed. The stars in their courses fight against it; it is 
 a false shoot that must fade away. 
 
 In the discussion therefore of these questions of ethics, 
 I demand something more than the authority of a great name, 
 whether of Aristotle, or Kant, or Bergson ; I demand some- 
 thing more than fine conceptions and exalted ideals; I 
 demand truth ; I demand demonstrations led from a base 
 that we can all accept, and proceeding point by point with 
 inevitable arguments to the conclusion offered. 
 
 There must be rigour in argument, otherwise the argu- 
 ment is of little or no value. This question is indeed so 
 important that I desire to close the chapter on that note. 
 I shall show lin "Principles of Psychology " that there is 
 no absolute certitude in any form of reasoning ; tliat, in 
 fact, reason finds its origin in the limitations of our faculties. 
 
 Yet there are certain fundamental modes of thought that 
 are immensely more certain than others. It behoves us, 
 therefore, to base on these, and to proceed in such a manner 
 that step by step we scrutinize and test the sanctions of our 
 progress. It is by means such as these, and not by aspira- 
 tions, intuitions, and imagination that the basis on which 
 civilization rests has become gradually elaborated ; and the 
 actual historic record convinces me that it is greater to 
 build even the most rudimentary structure on sure founda- 
 tions in ethics, for example, than to create airy systems 
 without demonstrations. 
 
 Now of all the sciences that depend on reasoning, the 
 most certain and the most wonderfully developed by con- 
 secutive efforts is that of mathematics; by the aid of 
 mathematics we predict eclipses through the centuries, and 
 we calculate the form and strength of the girders of the great 
 
VALIDITY OF REASON 13 
 
 bridges of the world. Yet in this exact science I have found 
 in reading the works of the famous mathematicians many 
 instances of error, either subsequently acknowledged or 
 pointed out with proofs by others of equal eminence; and 
 the list of names includes those of Newton, Euler, 
 Lagrange, Laplace, and Abel. 
 
 Where these errors occurred marked the limit of their 
 useful reasoning. Beyond that the superstructure, in as 
 far as depending on such results, was either valueless or 
 dangerous. We may say so much because in this case we 
 are able to apply right standards, and the minds of mathe- 
 maticians become trained to a high degree of acumen. 
 
 But in sciences where the reasoning is less subject to 
 control, and where by virtue of the looseness of thought and 
 of expression both writer and reader are prepared to accept 
 inconsecutive or false statements, can the conclusions be 
 such as to win our entire confidence and encourage us to 
 stake our lives upon the issue? 
 
 It is the failure to answer such questions that has 
 brought "philosophy " into disrepute, particularly amongst 
 men trained in the exact sciences. I have heard professors 
 of great reputation talk almost inconceivable nonsense on 
 the very subjects which they professed. I have waded 
 through the morass of the literature turned out on philosophy 
 by renowned universities, and I have listened to discussions 
 at learned societies that are supposed to cultivate thought, 
 and I have wondered at the faculty that allowed sentences 
 to flow with so little meaning and such lack of cogency. 
 
 With these, however, I shall not particularly deal. I shall 
 insist on this test of rigour in examining the works of 
 thinkers — Kant, Hegel, Bergson, Eucken — whose words are 
 given forth to the rising generation of intellect as authori- 
 tative. It will be found that one of the services that I 
 have rendered to the study of ethics has been to sweep 
 away a mass of learning that has cumbered the ground, 
 and has produced nothing to the enlightenment of the world 
 or the development of the intellectual powers of man. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 Glances at the History of the Development of Ethics 
 
 Plato and Soorates 
 
 The great Greek philosophers are the veritable sponsors 
 of our civilization. The germ at least of almost all that 
 we know in our modern science may be found in their 
 si>eculations ; and, as in their philosophy their minds were 
 especially preoccupied with questions of morals and of 
 ethics generally, we have in their records abundant treasures 
 of thought on these subjects. 
 
 It is tempting to retrace the lines of development of great 
 thought, and to linger on the great names of Socrates and 
 Plato. The teachings of Socrates are known to us, how- 
 ever, principally through the writings of Plato, and Plato's 
 pupil and successor, Aristotle, though inspired by love and 
 admiration of his old master, does not spare his philosophy 
 the sharpest criticisms. As between the two, it seems to 
 me that wherever differences arise it is Aristotle who is on 
 the side of common sense as well as of clear reason, and 
 it is in his exposition of the subject that we first find the 
 lines of a true scientific method. 
 
 Aristotle 
 
 Therefore I offer here a few notes, however incomplete^ 
 on the system of Aristotle; and again, as I find myself so 
 often in close agreement with him rather than with any who 
 have since written on this subject, I put to myself the 
 question : Why then is it necessary to start anew? Is it 
 not sufficient to submit whatever emendations of Aristotle 
 are required in the light of modern science and in view of 
 the march of civilization since his day? 
 
 I will answer with some circumspection. In the first 
 place I find nothing bizarre in the suggestion of going 
 back to Aristotle. The mere lapse of time gives no measure 
 
 14 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 15 
 
 of progress in thought, as Galileo found when, discarding 
 the false learning that had grown up in a thousand years 
 of ecclesiastical dominance, he went straight to the works 
 of Archimedes and thence linked on to the main lines of 
 the modern development of science.^ 
 
 The works of Aristotle still read surprisingly modern, 
 for the problems of human conduct must have remained in 
 the broad aspects the same as in his day. Many other 
 sciences have since developed by reason of the use of 
 instruments not known to the great Greek, such as the 
 telescope, the thermometer, the spectroscope, and various 
 electrical devices; while, further, the study of quantitative 
 relations, often involving delicate and precise measurements, 
 has been developed enormously in comparison with what 
 contented the Greeks. 
 
 But the problem of ethics demands a manner of approach, 
 a wide survey, and also a certain capacity of intellect and 
 balance of character that tend to become excluded by a 
 narrow specialization in any one branch of science. 
 
 I have shown elsewhere^ that the divisions of science into 
 compartments are artificial, and that they correspond not 
 to the external realities, but to the limitations of our 
 faculties. There is a science — and this is one aspect of a 
 true psychology — that regards all these separate sciences 
 as springing from the same matrix, and from that stand- 
 point sees the working of their methods and comprehends 
 their results, and relates all this to the activity of society 
 and the place of man in the world. 
 
 Aristotle's view of science embraced the whole field, 
 though partly for the reason that the separate studies were 
 themselves in a rudimentary condition. His clear mind 
 grasp>ed the main principles at least of the sciences of the 
 inorganic and organic worlds, and of mental operations ; his 
 education and his position in life gave him a good outlook on 
 the social conditions and political institutions of his time; 
 
 ^ I am aware that M. Paul Painleve refers to Copernicus rather 
 than to Galileo as the founder of our modern conceptions, and this 
 view is not unacceptable, but once started on this track we come to 
 Roger Bacon, whose mind shines like a beacon in the darkness ol 
 the Middle Ages, 
 
 * Cf. " Principles of Psychology " (forthcoming). 
 
i6 ETHICS 
 
 and his well-tempered nature, with the alliance, by no means 
 common, of acute intellect with genial disposition, secured 
 him from undue warpings. 
 
 He lived, moreover, at a time when the most civilized 
 of the races of the world had reached a high degree of 
 efflorescence and in a State where the "Mediterranean 
 smile " shone through its works of art and literature, and 
 its conceptions of society. 
 
 That being the case, then why do we not accept 
 Aristotle's pronouncements as final? 
 
 The answer to this question runs on the same lines as 
 the answer given in the "Principles of Psychology " to the 
 question of the acceptance of the " predicaments " of Aristotle 
 as being the fundamental processes of thought from which 
 all others could be built. The predicaments were won in 
 the tentative efforts of a brilliant mind which had not found 
 a deep principle of division in the task of classification. 
 
 So it is with Aristotle's pronouncements in ethics. They 
 represent the opinions of Aristotle, and in this way they 
 are valuable, just as it was said of Newton in the domain 
 of mechanics that his very guesses were profound; never- 
 theless they do not sufficiently form a body of science whose 
 principles can be tested and whose organism can be 
 developed. 
 
 To come to concrete facts which show that Aristotle had 
 not disengaged himself from the mere modes of his time : 
 He defends slavery ; he remarks, as if the point needed 
 no explanation, that it would be absurd to take the ruler 
 of the State always fromi the same family, but on the other 
 hand he would exclude from the suffrage farmers, mer- 
 chants, and artisans; he condemns tyranny and oligarchy, 
 but he unites with these, as a bad system of government, 
 democracy. 
 
 There are few people nowadays who would accept all 
 these dicta, for they show the effect of the immersion of 
 a mind in the customs and manners of an era ; tJhe temporary 
 and accidental are merged in the perspective with the per- 
 manent and great. That very fact, however, warns us not 
 to reject Aristotle's conclusions on the sole ground that they 
 clash with anything that it has since become usual to accept. 
 I have emphasized for the moment the points in which 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 17 
 
 he runs counter most conspicuously to some of the opinions 
 of our later time; but if the whole course of his ethical 
 system be surveyed it would seem to be more just in 
 balance, and particularly to be marked by better standards 
 than that of any condition of society that has been actually 
 realized since his day. 
 
 Aristotle divides his ethical system into three compart- 
 ments, which he calls (i) Ethics, (2) Economy, (3) Politics, 
 corresponding respectively to the rights and duties of the 
 individual man, the man as member of a family, and the 
 man as member of a state. 
 
 Happiness as ihe Goal 
 
 A sort of serene judgment, an illuminated common sense, 
 distinguishes Aristotle's view of human life. In his Ethics 
 he finds a guidance in a certain accordance with nature; 
 man should freely develop his natural tendencies. Every 
 conscious act has some purpose, and this suggests that in 
 the summing of these acts there should be a reference to 
 a Supreme Goal. This goal he declares to be happiness ; 
 but he proceeds to inquire as to what constitutes happiness. 
 He refuses to find happiness expressed in mere sensual 
 pleasures or amusements, or even in what is called virtue. 
 Virtue in this sense is related to happiness in the manner in 
 which the form and rule are related to acts or achievements. 
 
 Finally happiness is to be found in the perfect exercise 
 of faculties, and the highest form of this exercise consists 
 in intellectual activity. The conditions necessary embrace 
 health, beauty, truth, fortune, and the society of children 
 and friends. 
 
 Aristotle then proceeds to discuss his conception of 
 virtue. This virtue is nearly equivalent to what we under- 
 stand by good character in action ; it is expressed in the 
 habitual exercise of the best powers of the man. 
 
 Virtue may be dianoetic or ethical. This division corre- 
 sponds to the play of intellect directed to a purpose 
 (dianoetic), and, on the other hand, the habitual exhibition 
 of what we call the good bourgeois virtues, such as tem- 
 perance or moderation (ethical). Aristotle gives the higher 
 place to the dianoetic form; and in regard to ethical virtue 
 he offers an amendment on the system of Socratesi, for he 
 c 
 
i8 ETHICS 
 
 says that whereas Socrates was content that these virtues 
 should be esteemed, they should also' be expressed in active 
 realization. 
 
 Then boldly, even where he is expressing" a sentiment of 
 moderation, Aristotle declares that virtue is always relative 
 — relative to the individual, the situation, the occasion — and 
 that it forms the mean between two vices. Thus courage 
 has its place between rashness and cowardice, and nobility 
 of mind between insolence and servility. 
 
 The principles formulated by Aristotle are general, but 
 with regard to their application he remarks that the alert 
 judgment of a superior mind will be able to complete the 
 details. 
 
 The dianoetic virtues are themselves capable of classifi- 
 cation into those of scientific intelligence, and the "logical" 
 virtues which are employed in the faculty of rearrangement 
 of scientific data. The virtues of scientific intelligence are 
 classified again into : • 
 
 (i) Nous, the faculty of beholding general laws. 
 (2) The faculty of deducing particular truths from these 
 general laws. 
 
 The "logical" virtues are divided into: 
 
 (i) The art or capacity of producing something in view 
 of a purpose. This would include invention. 
 
 (2) Judgment, or practical intelligence. This would 
 include the faculties that should be possessed by a 
 judge, a critic, or a diplomatist. 
 
 Aristotle says that there are innumerable virtues, and that 
 they must not be reduced, as Plato endeavours, to single 
 representative virtues, such as justice, or friendship.^ 
 
 In his Economy, Aristotle remarks that we come here 
 to a higher sphere, for the life of the family is superior to 
 
 ^ Anticipating a reference to modern developments, we may 
 observe that in this point alone Aristotle gives evidence of an outlook 
 far wider than that of modern ethical writers who have summed np 
 the whole matter in the exposition of certain virtues, such as the 
 Kf^npvolence of Hutcheson, or the Sympathy of Hume or Adam Smith. 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 19 
 
 that of the individual. He treats u^ith clear understanding- 
 and good sense of the mutual rights and duties of husband 
 and wife, parents and children, master and slaves. 
 
 In his dealing- with the question of woman, Aristotle 
 was far in advance of his epoch; in fact it is here that he 
 speaks at times in a manner to sugg-est our own Georg-e 
 Bernard Shaw. He upholds the liberty of women, but in 
 the main decision of the family life he declares that the 
 man should have authority. 
 
 As to children, they have no rights, but they are suffi- 
 ciently safeguarded by the duties imposed on the parents. 
 
 Slavery is necessary, for the house has need of work- 
 men. The slave is the property of the master, but the 
 master should remember that the slave is a man. 
 
 The third division of Aristotle's social system is that 
 of Politics, by which must not be understood politics such 
 as we currently know it, but rather the science and art of 
 statesmanship. 
 
 He finds that the statesman should regard as the justifi- 
 cation of his work not the increase of pleasures, nor even 
 the observance of laws, nor the fostering of commerce, nor 
 the accumulation of wealth, but the happiness of the citizens. 
 
 Here, of course, the term happiness must be interpreted in 
 the high sense which the philosopher has already ascribed to it. 
 
 Aristotle's ideal is a good, intelligent, well-ordered, 
 stable gfovernment. The worst state of all he declares to 
 be anarchy. He advocates the limitation of families when 
 the natural increase is likely to be such as to diminish the 
 happiness which the state should afford. To this end he 
 consents to abortion and to the exposure of sickly children. 
 
 Education holds a large place in his ideal state. As to 
 the constitution, he says that the only sovereign should be 
 order as directed by reason. Amongst bad forms of 
 government are, as we have observed, tyranny, oligarchy, 
 democracy ; and amongst the g-ood forms are royalty, aris- 
 tocracy, ** policy," by which he means such as would 
 emanate from a good parliament. 
 
 When he speaks of royalty it must not be supposed that 
 he means hereditary monarchy, such as we know it; that 
 form he dismissed as not being- worth discussion. Aristotle's 
 royalty is that of great executive power in the hands of a 
 
20 ETHICS 
 
 chosen man ; it is well represented in the Consulate of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte or in the Presidency of the United 
 States. The best of forms is that of a well-ordered republic. 
 No proper understanding of Aristotle's system of ethics 
 can be obtained by fastening on one feature and throwing 
 that out of the perspective. We are shocked, let us say, 
 by his defence of slavery, and therefore it is worth while 
 questioning as to the steps by which he was led to such a 
 position. It must be remembered that slavery was a regular 
 institution in Greece, and indeed throughout the East from 
 time immemorial, and that the custom was so deeply rooted 
 as to survive to our own time. 
 
 Aristotle's attitude towards slavery was something like 
 that of the good planter in ** Uncle Tom's Cabin"; in these 
 circumstances much of the hardship of the condition becomes 
 mitigated, and the slave himself does not experience any 
 special unhappiness on account of his dependence. Then, 
 again, the slaves were in great part obtained through suc- 
 cessful wars, and the custom of enslaving prisoners is still 
 held in good repute amongst ourselves, at least during the 
 continuance of the war. 
 
 The Greeks were greatly superior to the surrounding 
 races in all those forms of culture which they rightly appre- 
 ciated, and the " Barbarians " were in comparison not merely 
 ignorant and uncouth, but apparently incapable of high 
 development. They excelled only in mechanical work, and 
 this the Greeks despised not only by natural inclination, 
 but by virtue of the teachings of their philosophers. 
 
 We have here touched upon certain defects of the Greek 
 character — want of wide sympathy and want of appreciation 
 of mechanical arts. For these defects they paid with their 
 existence, for they were prominent amongst the causes that 
 limited their science and brought about the downfall of their 
 state. The exclusiveness of the Greeks prevented assimila- 
 tion and expansion, and even the proper organization of the 
 forces they had at their disposal; thus they fell victims 
 to the Romans, whose intellectual and artistic product is 
 meagre and poor in comparison with that of their brilliant 
 neighbours, but who by superior political organization, and 
 finally by weight of numbers, beat them down. We have 
 here an example of the practical effects of ethical systems. 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 21 
 
 In regard to the aversion of the Greeks to manual labour 
 and to mechanical appliances, this sentiment prevented them 
 from directing- their ingenuity to invention, and rendered 
 their science comparatively barren of experiment. Hence 
 the Greeks were denied the glory of the invention of the 
 telescope and the microscope, or the steam-engine as we 
 know it, ahhough the principles they had discovered 
 brought them within measurable distance of such appli- 
 cations. 
 
 Dealing with proposals to limit the birth-rate, Aristotle 
 regarded this in a scientific manner after a survey of all the 
 considerations involved. It is almost impossible to attain 
 in our society to such a calm, objective manner of vision ; 
 the subject, if discussed at all, is immersed in a theological 
 atmosphere, and the forces of prejudice, and fear, and 
 hypocrisy are invoked to cloud the real issues. This much 
 is evident, that if free play were given to the need of pro- 
 creation, and no restriction ever placed on the result, the 
 human race would in a short time be unable to find sufficient 
 nourishment for its continuance. Limitation is therefore 
 inevitable, whether it be by deliberate means as provided 
 by the system of Aristotle or in the haphazard fashion of 
 the play of human folly, cruelty, vice, or the vast demorali- 
 zation of secret practices.^ 
 
 In reference to Aristotle's disapproval of democracy, it 
 is not sufficient to speak of the march of progress, nor to 
 overwhelm the reason by battle-cries of prejudice or of 
 rhetoric. It is only within the most recent times, after 
 centuries of human efforts that have moulded our institutions 
 and helped to form our very characters, that democratic 
 government has been tentatively established. 
 
 The Revolution in England was not democratic in 
 principle, and it resulted in the establishment of one 
 hereditary monarchy, though short-lived, for another. The 
 secession of the American colonies was not brought about 
 as the result of a clear-cut determination which set demo- 
 cratic ideals in their full scope in opposition to those of 
 monarchy. 
 
 * To blink these facts is neither scientific nor moral, but it is 
 usual with those disputants who claim to proceed from high ideal 
 principles. 
 
22 ETHICS 
 
 Democracy dates from the French Revolution, and the 
 ideas that spread from that unexampled outburst of great 
 conceptions and noble aspirations have helped to g^ive force 
 to various democracies that have been founded since; yet 
 even now the progress of democratic ideas in Europe is 
 perilous and uncertain. 
 
 In the British Empire democracy is not in existence either 
 de jure or de facto. There has been a development of demo- 
 cratic notions, and an establishment of many democratic 
 institutions, but all these have been set up under the ajgis 
 of a monarchical system whose origin was the denial of 
 all democracy, and whose forms are redolent with flagrant 
 challenges to democratic conceptions. 
 
 In comparing Aristotle's system with the modern state, 
 we must not be deceived by terms, we must look to the 
 essential being of things, as, for instance, when we recog- 
 nize that Cromwell under the name of Commonwealth gave 
 the country a form of usurping royalty. 
 
 When we reflect on Aristotle's intentions we see that 
 by his rejection of democracy he did not exclude such con- 
 stitutions as those of France and the United States. They 
 correspond indeed to his well-ordered republic. He meant 
 rather to condemn the rule of uneducated people, ignorant 
 of laws and destitute of the powers of conducting a govern- 
 ment likely even to realize their own desires. 
 
 Grounds for variance from Aristotle's conceptions will 
 appear when the rapid historical survey is completed, but 
 I would ask the reader here to endeavour to gain a fair 
 notion of the whole intention and the manner of vision 
 of this great thinker, and to compare it with that of any 
 modern statesman or writer on political and ethical 
 subjects. 
 
 In order to disabuse the mind of mere prejudices, one 
 should imagine Aristotle judging by his standards any of our 
 established societies. The Greek philosopher would see in the 
 first place — and this is extremely important — that whereas, 
 by virtue of his vast learning, experience and active supple 
 mind, he had been able to view society as an organism 
 developed into all manner of co-ordinations, complexities, 
 inter-dependences, and manifesting a vast variety of func- 
 tions, the views of most modern statesmen are immersed in 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 23 
 
 the narrow g-rooves of party politics, and this to such a 
 degree that it would be almost fatal to their authority to 
 raise their minds to a greater conception. 
 
 Aristotle wishes to give free play to the development of 
 all the human faculties and to the institutions which have 
 been founded accordingly ; but he reaches this conclusion, 
 so contrary to our practice, that he would place at the head 
 of this ideal structure the man of intellect, and vision, and 
 high moral purpose. 
 
 These are not the qualifications that most certainly win 
 favour with electors or caucuses in modern days, where 
 considerations of "practical f>olitics," that is to say, the 
 play of material interests, are such as would amaze and 
 disconcert the teacher of old. 
 
 In the whirlpool of forces in our modern life, the inver- 
 sion of standards would have seemed to Aristotle grotesque ; 
 for whereas he set the hig^hest store on intellectual work, 
 and particularly in the realm of high scientific speculation, 
 we find that in our modern states intellect, as intellect, wins 
 little esteem, and enjoys no privilege or even easement, 
 unless it be subservient to some lower need or be capable of 
 use as expressed in money. Faraday, whom Huxley declared 
 to have been worth even in material importance the whole of 
 the kings of Christendom, lived his life on a pay less than 
 that of a valet of a lord ; yet Faraday was one of the 
 fortunate beings, recognized and honoured. Such are 
 salient instances amid thousands where Aristotle's sense of 
 proportion and of merit would be shocked ; and whenever 
 the comparison is brought to definite terms the modern man 
 will recognize that it is usually the Greek who upholds the 
 higher ideal. 
 
 The influence of Aristotle has not throughout the cen- 
 turies been correspondent to his greatness. Certainly his 
 name was invoked as authoritative during the Middle Ages, 
 but the ecclesiastics fastened with peculiar instinct on those 
 parts of his teachings which were weak or false, and his 
 fame served to retard the progress of thought. It was not 
 till Galileo tested Aristotle's conception of mechanics deci- 
 sively by dropping two balls of lead from the Leaning Tower 
 of Pisa that the mere authority of the Stagy rite received a 
 mortal blow. 
 
24 ETHICS 
 
 The Germinal Idea of Aristotle's System 
 
 A question remains to be asked, and that is as to the 
 **g"erminal idea " and the mode of reasonings that led Aris- 
 totle to the establishment of his system. The work of a 
 great analytical mind is visible throughout its structure, 
 but the basis from which he proceeds is not so evident. 
 
 It would seem that in his endeavour to trace out the 
 destiny of the man as an individual, he was led to consider 
 him in regard to all the conditions that determined his 
 actions. The principal of these were : 
 
 The life as an individual. 
 The life in the family. 
 The life in the state. 
 
 Forming degrees of comparison of state with state, he 
 naturally assumed that the government of Athens offered 
 the highest example, and his rules of politics are derived 
 by exchanging the manner in which this government, con- 
 ceived as working at its best, excelled more imperfect 
 states. This line of thought led him to be too complaisant 
 in regard! to certain incidents in the Grecian state and in the 
 family, as, for instance, slavery, where there was nothing 
 offered to his contemplation to bring the suggestion of 
 incongruity. 
 
 With regard to the life of the individual, he forms again 
 a comparison between the man of fine accomplishment and 
 the inferior specimen, of whom the lowest example was the 
 slave. He marks the shortcomings, mental ana moral, of 
 the lower mortal, and points out for disapproval the causes 
 that produce these results. 
 
 Then turning to the cultured product he examines his 
 purposes and aspirations, as, for example, in his own person, 
 and proposes the removal of the obstructions that hinder his 
 free development. He examines the main motives of his 
 life, and distinguishes those that have most permanent force. 
 In all of these he finds that satisfaction of a need is implied 
 in order to give the necessary driving power. Hence he 
 arrives at the recognition of happiness as a goal, and re- 
 flecting on such pursuits as yielded him the most durable 
 happiness, he gives the palm to the intellectual activities. 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICS 25 
 
 In the assessment of values here he is aided by the actual 
 condition of science, for it is obviously both more difficult 
 and greater to formulate a g^eneral law than to give a par- 
 ticular instance, since the mind once in possession of the law 
 may proceed to all or any particulars by way of application. 
 
 By such a process of thought Aristotle arrives at the 
 distinction of the dianoetic and the ethical activities, and the 
 subdivisions of each of these. 
 
 If this survey be compared with that offered subsequently 
 in regard to Herbert Spencer's system it will be seen that 
 Aristotle's method is tentative and not basic. In Ethics as 
 in Psychology^ he failed to attain to the deep piercing 
 analysis that should afford him the scientific principle of his 
 classification. 
 
 Aristotle, having thus failed to find a true objective guide, 
 was left to the mercy of his own personal experiences, and 
 he became unduly submissive to the immensely powerful 
 influences of the customs of his day and of his State. Hence 
 arise the imperfections in this system that nevertheless 
 stands out amid the mists of centuries as one of the noblest 
 achievements of the human race. 
 
 With this respectful salutation to the genius of the 
 great Greek I pass on to the study of other forms of ethical 
 philosophy. 
 
 ^ See •' Psychology : A New System," and the forthcoming 
 " Principles of Psychology." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The Stoics and the Epicureans 
 
 The philosophy of Aristotle never found general favour 
 except in its unscientific aspects. This neglect was in part 
 due to the fact that it was reasonable and that it made no 
 special appeal to temperamental excesses. 
 
 The consideration of the history of the subject will con- 
 vince the unbiased student that for an ethical system or a 
 religion to attain great vogue it must profess some doctrine 
 which runs counter to normal experience, and must compel 
 certain practices and rites that form a peri)etual challenge 
 to ordinary reason. 
 
 If a doctrine be truly based, and derived by rigorous 
 deduction from certain accepted premises, it falls into the 
 domain of science, and it fails to show any of those super- 
 natural attributes that most people look for in their religious 
 beliefs. If, however, in order to mark its superiority to 
 ordinary sense, a religious faith propounds even what at first 
 blush seems absurd, only those individuals will be de- 
 barred who build on reason, and these are comparatively 
 few. It is of the essence of faith to surmount such obstacles, 
 and there is a profound truth embodied in the saying : I 
 believe because it is impossible. In face of the incompre- 
 hensible, faith, where negation is disallowed, is indeed the 
 only resource. 
 
 These remarks are introductory to the consideration of 
 the ethics of the Stoic school, which dominated the minds 
 of a powerful body both amongst the Greeks and the 
 Romans, and which, moreover, has furnished us with some 
 of the most inspiring examples in history. 
 
 The Stoic philosophy was ostensibly founded on a general 
 view of nature, and linked with very imperfect and false 
 explanations of physical phenomena. The conception of the 
 universe was pantheistic and monistic ; substance consisted 
 
 26 
 
STOICS AND EPICUREANS 27 
 
 in a sort of subtle essence, or fire, which was at once matter 
 and force. ^ 
 
 The important part of the Stoic doctrine was the setting 
 up of the ethical position that the sovereign good consisted 
 in refusing to obey any influence except that of reason, and 
 that reason must be conceived as abstracted from the con- 
 ditions — health, pain, good or ill fortune — that usually tend 
 to determine its judgments.^ 
 
 Now there are circumstances where it is imposed as a 
 duty to resist pain and terror and to sacrifice life in the 
 defence of some high principle, as, for iastance, when a 
 soldier remains at his post to secure the safety of some 
 essential force, or when a martyr suffers a cruel death 
 rather than prove recreant to his conscience. These 
 examples are often spectacular in the course of history, 
 but by their educational effect they help to form our 
 characters and convictions. Thus the Stoic ideal gains 
 that sort of allegiance which we have noted as given to 
 ••Spiiituality." 
 
 The test in both cases must be reference to nature, and 
 if there be found a warping from the line of true develop- 
 ment, this ideal must be discarded. Where Stoicism appears 
 to serve is in crucial tests ; but the main tenor of life is not 
 made up of such ordeals, and it is not necessarily the case 
 that the Stoic habit is the best training for these when they 
 come. Stoicism places an undue strain on human nature, 
 and thus eats up the reserves of health and elasticity of 
 
 * It may be remarked here that these obscure guesses of Zeno and 
 his school may claim a certain confirmation in the most modern 
 conception of matter. The tendency of modern physics and chemistry, 
 as exemplified in the study of radium and its derivatives, for 
 example, is to reduce all substance to one, the hydrogen element. 
 The varieties that we know arise from different modes of combination 
 within the above. The notion of matter and force ultimately 
 coalescing has also been revived in the study of the general doctrine 
 of Relativity, where it is assumed that the mass of an elemental 
 particle increases with its velocity. It does not appear, however, 
 that Zeno had in mind these developments; his system had the 
 humbler origin of vague though ardent supposition. 
 
 2 The whole question of the factors implicated in the production of 
 Reason, the character of Reason, and the ultimate sanction of Belief, 
 form the main part of "Psychology: A New System" and "Prin- 
 ciples of Psychology." The outcome of that study shows the 
 deficiency of the Stoic conception in this regard also. 
 
28 ETHICS 
 
 Spirit which may tide one over a difficult situation. Shake- 
 speare, as the result of his experience, remarks that : 
 
 "A merry heart goes all the day, 
 Your sad tires in a mile-a ! " 
 
 If that be true in matters of physical endurance, it is still 
 more likely to be true in the complex and peculiar stresses 
 of mental trials. 
 
 The Stoic endeavour defeats itself. Consider, for 
 example, the Spartans who have presented us with noble 
 examples of conduct, but whose character was too intolerant 
 and limited and intellectually restricted. They made a cult 
 of force, even of physical culture. But in the arena of force 
 they failed to win. The genius of Themistocles was superior 
 even on that plane to the dogged obstinacy of Eurybiades. 
 
 The feats that have been recorded of the Spartans have 
 been surpassed by modern athletes trained in another and less 
 exacting regime. The brightest period of the Spartans really 
 occurred before the time of Zeno, but even then though 
 without interesting themselves in speculative doctrines they 
 v/ere carrying out the practices to which are now given the 
 title Stoic. 
 
 The Romans at their greatest were also exponents of the 
 Stoic doctrine, and our admiration is given to tlieir fine traits 
 of character and to the works that they have left as monu- 
 ments of toil and patience; but that admiration becomes 
 tempered by the reflection that in a thousand years of 
 dominance they produced no one truly great in the very arts 
 as, for instance, of engineering, to which they devoted the 
 best of their talents. There is but little of the divine genius 
 of science such as we find in the Greeks from Thales to 
 Archimedes, and in the world of literature the few names 
 that shine are mostly those of freedmen or foreigners to their 
 race. 
 
 The Stoics have a remote affiliation with the fakirs of 
 India; in both the great feat of accomplishment is not to 
 develop the natural faculties, but to harass nature with 
 splints and bandages and to exhibit the inharmonious de- 
 velopment of certain powers in the process. It is not well 
 to constrain nature, it is better to question her and to 
 submit to her guidance. 
 
STOICS AND EPICUREANS 29 
 
 The Epicurean Philosophy 
 
 In contrast with the Stoics we have the disciples of 
 Epicurus, though the genial Greek would have been at some 
 pain to recognize his doctrines in the practices of so-called 
 Epicureans. The main directions of Epicurus are indeed 
 not far apart from those of Aristotle. He makes the chief 
 good of life to consist in pleasure, but in his scale of pleasures 
 he gives the highest place to intellectual pursuits. 
 
 Aristotle made happiness the goal, and he made happiness 
 for the individual consist in the exercise of the intellectual 
 powers. Lower pleasures were rather the guide than the end 
 of the search. 
 
 In this regard the difference between Epicurus and 
 Aristotle is rather one of words; the real varianoe must 
 rather be sought in the modes of outlook of the two men. 
 They both derive from Plato, Epicurus having been a 
 disciple of Xenocrates, who was taught by Plato; but 
 Epicurus failed to branch off into that spirit of reseiarch and 
 splendid scientific organization which gives immortal fame to 
 Aristotle. Hence his system of ethics is formed on fewer con- 
 siderations, but fastens rather too narrowly on the aspect of 
 motives. 
 
 The life and manners of Epicurus give no encouragement 
 to the degradation of his doctrines into sensual indulgence ; 
 but he must accept some of the responsibility, for if the goal 
 be pleasure, then to the sensual the goal is sensual pleasure. 
 
 Neither Zeno nor Epicurus sought widely enough, nor 
 with sufficient scientific method, for the data of ethics; and 
 for this reason alone one might have disregarded their 
 systems, but their importance has been shown in the great 
 role which their dogmas, or practices related to them, have 
 played in the course of history. 
 
 The fusion of the two temperaments — Stoic and Epi- 
 curean — indicates a fine type of character. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Bridging the Dark Ages 
 
 The Roman Empire was a kind of ethical system in practice. 
 The Imperial system produced few thinkers, but two may 
 be mentioned : Epictetus, a boldly sculptured character of the 
 antique type, and Seneca, who seems almost modern, for 
 he found the profession of the noblest sentiments compatible 
 with flatteries of hhj Imperial master, Nero. This was an early 
 example of that "admirable spirit of compromise " which 
 plays so great a part in our own political affairs. 
 
 The Roman Empire in its dissolution left as a legacy to 
 mankind the valuable system of laws, which form the juridic 
 foundation of nearly all later civilizations. The Church 
 adopted them into her formal organization, while adding 
 various matters derived from religious sources. The value 
 of these, from the standpoint of scientific ethics, will be 
 referred to later; suffice it now to say that the practical 
 result was to produce a state of affairs the most discouraging 
 to our common humanity of any period of history.^ 
 
 Dante 
 
 During that long interval the gleams of a high intelligence 
 here and ithere light up the intellectual gloom. Dante, who 
 figures in the early fourteenth century, has a wider circle of 
 readers now than in his lifetime. His " Divine Comedy " 
 may be appreciated simply for its poetical value, but a great 
 poem of genius is always at the same time a work of ethics. 
 
 Lest it should surprise the reader that I delay a moment 
 to consider this work of art in regard to the development of 
 ethics, I will say, in anticipation, that few of the works of 
 formal ethics which we shall have to consider are satisfac- 
 
 ^ Jacobi, the famous mathematician, once began a lecture : " There 
 was once a thousand years of night." It is not for nothing that this 
 period has been styled the Dark Ages. 
 
 '3° 
 
BRIDGING THE DARK AGES 31 
 
 torily based upon science. What then remains? The impact 
 of the general customs, conventions, current doctrines of the 
 time upon the mind of the author, and tlie promulgfation of 
 his own personal opinions and aspirations. Whenever the 
 scientific plan is lost, then the rest at its best is literature, 
 and at its worst mere nonsense, even though pompously 
 expressed. 
 
 The poet therefore stands on no inferior ground in respect 
 to his credentials; he is by his nature more sympathetic and 
 receptive, and, when truly a great poet, he rises above his 
 personal motives and becomes a kind of living flute through 
 which the higher voices of the time blow their message to 
 the world, and wherein are found mingled notes of a subtler 
 meaning and higher inspiration, coming the poet scarce 
 knows whence, and only dimly feels why.^ 
 
 Dante based the architecture and the theatrical effects, 
 
 * Another question may be asked as to whether a great work of 
 art, and especially a great poem, may not be appreciated quite apart 
 from its " thought," whether indeed the term " thought " does not 
 introduce something extraneous to art, and likely to vitiate true 
 poetic appreciation. The answer to this question will be found in an 
 analysis of the components of poetry. There is the form of the verse, 
 and then the rhythm, the subtle movements, the cadences, and all 
 those sensitive little pulses that give their subtle, exquisite delight ; 
 then there is the mastery of the words themselves, the blending of 
 their sounds into harmonious sequences; but earlier than these effects 
 there is the first conception, the intention, the movement of the whole, 
 the evocation of emotions, the vivid painting of graphic effects. 
 
 Now the technique of the verse, abstraction being made of the 
 meaning, resolves itself into an art comparable to that of music; but 
 viewed in this light the effects of metres and aU the other components 
 of versification are but products of rudimentary form. A similar 
 comparison may be made with regard to pictured effects. 
 
 There remains then the conception, the intention, the force of 
 onward movement. Here the interest rises at once in proportion as 
 the thought is deep, true, and winged with a seizing quality. Here 
 we have the true poetic inspiration. Divorced from this meaning we 
 are dealing with mere artistic toys. 
 
 In judging contemporary work the question of the toys is likely 
 to be obtruded on account of the claims of artistic schools, the 
 dominance of some particular mode, and the cant of the circles of 
 authority ; therefore, influenced by such standards, the values are 
 liable to all manner of distortion as we may have seen in the history 
 of literature. 
 
 But judging a poet of another age, writing in a foreign tongue, 
 we find that the value of his poem depends on the value of his 
 thought. The thought is not expressed in formal and didactic terms 
 of exposition, but in the form, really more natural and spontaneous, in 
 
32 ETHICS 
 
 and therefore to some extent the ethical trend, of his 
 " Divine Comedy " upon a much older work, of the 
 date of the eleventh century ; his main glory was to 
 have given his pictures a vivid and durable quality and 
 to have sent throughout the world the electric touch of 
 his genius. 
 
 Yet viewed from the ethical point of view there is a 
 profound discord in Dante's conception from that of 
 Aristotle. Dante deals in unrealities, and while his power 
 of presentation is marvellous, there is something disquieting 
 in the building up of fantastic figments. The saving grace 
 of the poem, ideal love as represented by the passion in- 
 spired by Beatrice, is overstrained even to the point of 
 hysteria, and repellent to the sanity of life.^ 
 
 Where Dante derives his great effects is in the brief but 
 telling evocation of actual historical events, or in the 
 
 which the ideas come, full of their emotion and bright surprise as 
 they light into day. 
 
 Few poets can bear such a manner of examination, and those who 
 endure it have a deep ethical significance. 
 
 Thus it is the fashion of the present time to disparage Byron ; 
 but Byron figures in Humboldt's " Cosmos," wherein the main lines 
 of human development are broadly marked, particularly in regard to 
 science, and where the great expressions of poetic thought are noted. 
 Such a reference is already a profound criticism, for the " Cosmos " 
 is in its own way a notable work of ethics. 
 
 One other name I would add here, that of Keats, whose luminous 
 beam of thought has been further sent than that of all others. The 
 false or the conventional poets disappear in such a test; the true 
 arise greater. 
 
 ^ These criticisms are not usual, I know; for it has become the 
 habit of successive generations of litterateurs to plume themselves on 
 their extravagant appreciation of the " Divine Comedy," and par- 
 ticularly to raise to the skies the spirituality of Dante's conception of 
 love. It is, however, part of the endeavour of the present work to 
 bring to these current judgments standards more deeply based than 
 those by which they have imposed their verdicts ; and incidentally to 
 question the claims of that high-strung spirituality that strains the 
 harmony of nature and escapes the control of truth. 
 
 Ultimately all great poetry must be true, although the poet's truth 
 is expressed with impetus and passion, and with a wealth of associa- 
 tions and of sensuous images derived from the experience and visions 
 of a receptive mind. Apart from that, poetry becomes the exercise of 
 feats of technique, some one point of excellence being thrown into 
 special relief; or else, to cite again Newton's much derided phrase: 
 " a sort of ingenious nonsense." Poetry that can stand the test of 
 time is as true and as deeply based as the differential calculus. 
 
BRIDGING THE DARK AGES 33 
 
 imagery composed of the forms that had made an actual 
 impression on his mind. 
 
 ■X- -x- -x- ^ * 
 
 Roger Bacon 
 
 Before the date of Dante a man had arisen in the Dark 
 Ages of far greater significance than the Italian poet for 
 the ethical progress and general civilization of the world. 
 This was Roger Bacon (12 14-1294). 
 
 The great extent of Roger Bacon's learning recalls that 
 of Aristotle, while in some studies, especially those of physics 
 and of chemistry, conceived in the modern manner, Bacop 
 is superior to his famous predecessor. 
 
 Bacon deserves mention as one of the great ethical 
 teachers because every observation of nature that produces 
 some new truth, and helps to define the conditions under 
 whicii our lives are impelled, is far more helpful to an 
 ethical system than vague speculations and poetic forms 
 that play on current prejudices or glorify falsities. 
 
 Copernicus helps to bridge the long gap between Roger 
 Bacon and Galileo, and with the destruction of the mere 
 authority of the doctrines of Aristotle, we come to the 
 modern era; we find following rapidly one upon another 
 Gilbert, Kepler, Descartes, Newton, Huyghens, Harvey — 
 an eclosion of genius which proved the fertility of the prin- 
 ciples of science which had so long been held in restraint 
 by the power of the Churcli. 
 
 Another incident in the march of civilization that de- 
 serves notice, not only for itself but for the sequence 
 of the events that led to its realization, is the discovery 
 of America, and hence of the opening up of an era of adven- 
 ture, discovery, and clearer definitions of the conditions 
 that surround us. 
 
 Many legends have grown up regarding the origin of 
 the ideas of Columbus, for one finds a tendency in most 
 minds to prefer puerile tales of mystery to the greater 
 marvels of truth. Columbus not only knew that the 
 earth was round before he set out on his first voyage 
 of discovery, but he had numerical measures which proved 
 to be somewhat short of the reality. Thus it happened that 
 when he reached the Western islands he believed that he 
 
34 ETHICS 
 
 had reached the outlying coasts of the Indies; hence the 
 name bestowed on the islands, the West Indies. 
 
 It was to Toscanelli that Columbus owed this knowledge, 
 and Toscanelli had himself derived it, by the intermediary 
 of Bacon, from Eratosthenes (born 276 B.C.), who had 
 actually measured the circumference of the earth, though 
 by instruments that offered no great precision. 
 
 It must be for ever insisted that the great instrument 
 of civilization is science, for that means in its complete 
 sense a knowledge of the conditions under which we live 
 our life; and so it has happened that whatever progress 
 has been effected in the world is due in a far greater degree 
 to the patient establishment of solid positions secured by 
 science than by the dreams of poets or the intuitions of 
 seers; though if the contemplation be raised to all that the 
 interpretation of nature means, there will be found enough 
 to satisfy all intuitions and to give the flight to greater 
 dreams. 
 
 This asj>ect of the matter will be seen later. 
 
 The Modern Era. Desoartes 
 
 With the development of formal science it was but natural 
 that the old questions of ethics would be overhauled and 
 submitted to new treatment. Descartes, a mind almost as 
 universal as Aristotle, and far superior in clearness of vision 
 in the world of mathematics, elaborated a sort of mechanistic 
 view of the cosmos. With the discovery of natural laws, 
 the notion of cause and effect was becoming more and more 
 important, and the development of this principle led in- 
 evitably to a recognition of a general determinism at least 
 in regard to phenomena. 
 
 Descartes accepts this position, but the forms of the 
 old theological discussions clouded even his clear brain, 
 and so we find him regarding the soul as a sort of entity, 
 judge of the thoughts and repository of conscience. 
 
 This high spiritual conception was immersed, as usual 
 with the scholastics and later the Idealists,^ in notions 
 of gross materialism; and as Descartes in his studies of 
 
 * See the discussion of Externality in " Principles of Psychology." 
 
BRIDGING THE DARK AGES 35 
 
 the brain had noted the position of the pineal gland as 
 symmetrical between the two hemispheres, and as it was 
 rot of the same material as ordinary brain substance, he 
 imagined that the soul occupied the pineal gland, as if sitting 
 on a throne, and from this coign of vantage directed the 
 thoughts to right or left. 
 
 This was a conception which had a bearing on his con- 
 clusions in regard to ethics, and it gives us another example 
 of the manner in which scientific discoveries may impinge 
 on ethical systems.^ 
 
 There is another point of great interest in the system 
 of Descartes. He was, above all, a mathematician, and it 
 was he, the first, taking a leap beyond the methods em- 
 ployed by the Greeks, who united into one science two 
 disciplines which had been separately developed, viz. 
 Geometry, which had b^en a study of predilection of the 
 Greeks, and Algebra, or generalized arithmetic, which had 
 been specially cultivated by the Arabs. 
 
 When Descartes lifted his eyes from these particular 
 subjects to the larger scope of the cosmos, he applied the 
 methods derived from his favourite studies. Hence in con- 
 trast to the Hebrew prophets and the mediaeval poets who 
 saw the world through mists of emotion and passion, 
 Descartes regards it all with the eyes of an uplifted 
 mechanic or carp>enter. This example may be well kept in 
 mind, for it will be found often repeated with appropriate 
 changes, where a man who has achieved success in one 
 domain of speculation turns his attention to another. 
 
 Thus, for instance, Leibnitz reduced the cosmos to the 
 monad wherein all the potentialities of the world were con- 
 tained. The mystery of this conception becomes less when 
 we reflect that Leibnitz concentrated his attention upon the 
 Differential Calculus and that his mind was accustomed to 
 formulas which contained the principle of construction of 
 extensive geometric forms. 
 
 When Newton turned his attention to the problem of 
 
 ^ The pineal gland is the representative, in vestigial form, of a 
 third eye; and that eye still exists externally in rudimentary form 
 in a genus of serpents, hatteria. It is not certain that such a dis- 
 covery would have disconcerted Descartes, for he was led in the 
 logical sequence of his speculations to regard animals as automata. 
 
36 ETHICS 
 
 tides he used the same means of study of attractions of 
 masses which, had served him in the theory of gfravitation. 
 When Thomas Young took up the same problem he con- 
 sidered the influences of undulations in the manner to which 
 he had been accustomed in his researches on light. And so 
 the list could be indefinitely extended. 
 
 The reason is that great mental energy has already been 
 expended in developing a certain instrument of analysis, and 
 that also when a general principle is discovered in Nature 
 the number of its applications is very great. 
 
 And so with regard to ethical systems we shall find that 
 in default of science these are established not on the general 
 realities of things but on the bias, prejudices, predilections 
 and favourite strain of mind of the system-builder. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Rise of English Philosophy 
 
 To give a connected account of the development of ethics 
 it would be necessary to notice a thousand contributory 
 forces and movements, but all that is here intended is to 
 touch on certain salient features of the question so as in 
 this way to become better acquainted with the difficulties of 
 the problem, and also to exhibit the exposition that will 
 follow in its proper setting-. 
 
 Thus, for example, it might be considered laudable to 
 devote a chapter to the system or the opinions of Francis 
 Bacon. But we have now reached a stage where in search- 
 ing for the work of those who have built up any great 
 body of theory in ethics, even false theory, we must look 
 to definite original and cogent work that has added some 
 one definite link in a connected chain. Regarded from this 
 point of view the work of Francis Bacon dwindles to some- 
 thing inconsiderable. His was an alert, active mind, ever 
 ready to learn, to combine, to throw out hypotheses, but 
 neither by education, nor trend of thought, nor structure 
 and habit of generalization was Bacon's mind of a scientific 
 cast. 
 
 His " Novum Organum " added nothing new to science. 
 The experimental method which that book advocated had 
 already been practised by men of greater mental calibre than 
 Bacon, and when he himself turned his attention to research 
 he hardly touched on experiment, but proceeded to immerse 
 his mind in the old studies and to quote authority like a 
 lawyer. The words of Gilbert, one of the true breed of 
 scientific thinkers, sum up his scientific attainments: "The 
 Lord Chancellor talks science like a Lord Chancellor.'* 
 
 Bacon, by virtue of his title and position, exercised far 
 greater influence amongst those who patronized science or 
 talked commendably of science than the men of science 
 
 37 
 
38 ETHICS 
 
 themselves ; but that is rather an incident of those indefinable 
 rules and creeds and social tendencies and etiquette which 
 bind society together. 
 
 Hutoheson 
 
 One of the first of English-speaking- tliinkers who 
 attempted to set up a system of ethics was Hutcheson. 
 
 He rested on the base of Benevolence, and made this 
 the standard of all acts. A system of this sort hardly comes 
 within the category to which praise or dispraise can be given. 
 It escapes criticism by its insufficiency, for there are here in 
 evidence no deep base, no clear conceptions, no cogent argu- 
 ments, no wide outlook, no attempt to investigate all the 
 factors that may be essential among the conditions discussed. 
 
 If we return to Aristotle again, we find that a mere 
 glance at his general system makes the body of Hutcheson 's 
 arguments appear almost ridiculous in comparison. Aris- 
 totle may occasionally reach false conclusions, but there is 
 no part of his argument where his discussion of things is 
 otiose; it is evidently, therefore, not possible to select one 
 out of a thousand factors, and without analysis even of 
 that, to say : Behold the motive power of ethics ! ^ 
 
 Hutcheson is mainly remarkable for having given a 
 stimulus to the acute mind of Hume. 
 
 Hutcheson had derived from Benevolence, with which he 
 identified virtue, a train of good qualities : Veracity, Forti- 
 tude, Activity, Industry, Sagacity. 
 
 Hume and Adam Smith 
 
 Hume, seeing Hutcheson's excellent attributes parade 
 across the field in a manner rather too disengaged, reasoned 
 that there must be beneath that show some general principle. 
 
 ^ The modern intellectual world can show many instances of a 
 similar kind. Out of all the faculties of the mind {cf. " Principles 
 of Psychology," where the Fundamental Processes are determined) 
 certain philosophers select Association, and they say the consideration 
 of this is sufficient to explain psychic phenomena. This is as absurd 
 as if one were to say that a watch works simply by the hands turning, 
 therefore it suffices to study the hands. 
 
 When out of a number of components which in action produce a 
 result, the work of one only is examined, then not only is the total 
 function unexplained but the manner of operation of that one is 
 misconceived. 
 
RISE OF ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY 39 
 
 The mere analysis of that complexity does not itself discover 
 the emotion necessary for the appreciation of these qualities, 
 and thus as reason does not suffice, he asks for something- 
 that produces in the mind the approbation, or in other cases 
 the blame, that we experience. 
 
 Hume eventually declares for Sympathy, and then in 
 order to develop his system he links this Sympathy with 
 utility, though to utility he does not give a low and material 
 interpretation. 
 
 Adam Smith, who followed Hume, adopts Sympathy as 
 the main source of those virtues which suffice for an ethical 
 system, but he denies that the feeling- of Sympathy is 
 dependent on consideration of utility. 
 
 Adam Smith elaborates his argument with many instances 
 of the value and power of Sympathy, and he Bas a certain 
 intuition of a deeper psychological explanation of the origin 
 and manner of the feeling of Sympathy than Hume pos- 
 sessed, but to both these philosophers, as far as their 
 systems of ethics are concerned, a similar criticism may 
 be applied as to Hutcheson. 
 
 Hume's chief service in the domain of psychology and of 
 ethics is that of a critic. He is acute and keen to perceive 
 the weakness of argument, or to carry a thesis to its logical 
 conclusion, and so, if it be unsound, to expose its weakness; 
 but apart from his acumen and good judgment and intel- 
 lectual energy — qualities enhanced by an attractive literary 
 style — Hume's mind had no great organic structure; he was 
 deficient both in scientific knowledge and that method which 
 consists in obtaining great generalizations from deep sources. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Types of German Philosophers 
 
 Kant 
 
 Hume has a particular interest in the history of ethics, 
 however, for in the impetus which he gave to Kant — the 
 Konisberger declared that Hume "awoke him from his 
 dogmatic slumber " — we find a link between British philo- 
 sophy and that style of system-building of Kant, Fichte, 
 and their disciples, which was destined to dominate the 
 authoritative circles in English universities, and to reappear 
 in all manner of forms in English literature, and notably in 
 Coleridge's speculations and in Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus." 
 
 To deal step by step with Kant's philosophy, and to trace 
 out its development in the sphere of ethics and of politics 
 with appropriate criticisms, is not possible here on account 
 of the voluminous character of his writings. 
 
 There is, however, another manner of applying criticism 
 to a philosophical position, and that is by showing that 
 something essential to its establishment or some corollary 
 logically deduced is incompatible with a deeper law than that 
 on which the system rests. 
 
 That is the mode of criticism which Copernicus applied 
 though tacitly to the old cosmogony, which Galileo lapplied 
 to the mechanics of Aristotle, and by which Lavoisier tested 
 that theory of phlogiston, which, though almost meaningless, 
 had filled the speculations of chemists for generations. 
 
 In "Psychology: A New System," and in "Prin- 
 ciples of Psychology," I have shown how to reach a more 
 fundamental base than that of Kant, and thence to conduct 
 the arguments step by step in a manner of rigour unknown 
 to his philosophy, and finally to bring to the test of the 
 standards obtained certain results of his philosophic 
 system. 
 
 In formulating his "categories" he failed to obtain a 
 
 40 
 
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS 41 
 
 principle of division which would assure him of a classifi- 
 cation both necessary and complete; the categories are both 
 defective and redundant; and even on this basis Kant fails 
 to derive by consecutive arguments his ulterior positions of 
 the nature of reason and will and the existence of the 
 transcendental world. The Kritik der reinen Vernunft is 
 a vast petitio principii in which the defects of rigorous 
 argument are hidden to some extent by confused arrange- 
 ment, lack of sequence of thought, and by the covering up 
 of unallowable assumptions by ill-defined symbols and 
 nebulous conceptions.^ 
 
 The Germinal Idea of Kant 
 
 In order, therefore, to discuss Kant's philosophy, I will 
 approach the question by a novel route, and endeavour to 
 find the "germinal idea" of his work and to retrace the 
 inevitable development.'* 
 
 Kant ( 1 724-1804) was of Scottish descent, but he was 
 born in the artisan class in Konigsberg, and all his life he 
 spent in that town under the Hohenzollern monarchy. These 
 details are not unimj>ortant in regard to his philosophy, for 
 if a theory be not scientifically founded then it rests on the 
 personal opinions of the author, and for the origin of these 
 we must search amid the antecedents, physical and moral, of 
 the individual, his constitution, his education, and the 
 conditions under which he lives. 
 
 Given his mental and physical characteristics and his 
 native environment, his course is in the main lines deter- 
 mined, except in as far as accidents may affect the form of 
 events or cause variation of details.' 
 
 Kant imbibed from his Scottish ancestry a good character 
 and pious disposition, and at that period this piety took the 
 form of endless discussion of theological questions, not the 
 
 * As the psychological basis of the present work is referred to on 
 various occasions it may be as well in this volume to give, though in 
 mere outline, indications of the tenor of " Psychology : A New 
 System" and the later work, "Principles of Psychology"; accord- 
 ingly references will be found at the beginning of Part II, page 56 
 et seq. 
 
 * This method will be employed in regard to Herbert Spencer 
 also. 
 
 3 Of this manner of discussing character and output I received the 
 first suggestion from Bain's " John Stuart Mill : A Criticism." 
 
42 ETHICS 
 
 less anxious and exciting that certain aspects of these were 
 entirely unreal. 
 
 Though the opinions which had been received in trust 
 by these disputants depended on accidents of birth, it was, 
 nevertheless, a point of honour amongst Kant's Scottish 
 forbears, even to the extent of cutting the throats of the 
 opponents. 
 
 Kant himself would never have been apt to that form of 
 defending eternal verities, for he was physically a poor and 
 degenerate specimen. His was rather the role of the in- 
 tellectual champion who provides the reason for the more 
 picturesque and possibly more effective display of his 
 vigorous brethren. 
 
 Amongst the positions discussed interminably by the 
 theologians were those of conscience, freedom of the will, 
 the origin of evil, and such matters which provide pabulum 
 for controversy from generation to generation. 
 
 Kant was a studious youth, and the extent of his know- 
 ledge was great ; but I cannot find that in the matter of good 
 valid education he had either a well-organized or a well- 
 furnished mind ; his mental energy had become too greatly 
 absorbed in such barren topics as we have noticed, and his 
 training in jxvsitive science was defective. 
 
 With a puny body he possessed a temperament of some 
 fortitude, and this had been strengthened by the Scottish 
 precepts of Stoicism in action, a stoicism, by the way, which 
 did not prevent excitement on the occasions of the daily 
 crisis and ordeal — the arrival of his cup of coffee at a due, 
 perhaps excessive, temperature. 
 
 Kant was physically cut off from large worlds of 
 emotion, and as he spent his whole existence in Konigs- 
 berg, and carefully safeguarded himself from adventurous 
 exploration even of that little town, his life was one of 
 the most monotonous and untroubled that could well be 
 imagined. 
 
 I cannot conceive of a training more absurdly meagre 
 for one destined to write on ethical questions, on those 
 problems that should hold within their circumference not 
 only the range of knowledge, but the whole gamut of 
 emotions. Surely in the variety, the extent, and the quality 
 of the experience, or experiments required, nothing less is 
 
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS 43 
 
 commendable than that the whole world should be regarded 
 as the appropriate laboratory. 
 
 Super-add upon that the crushing- influence of the bureau- 
 cratic regime of the dullest and most mechanical system of 
 government in the world, and then ask, with wonder, what 
 could this little atomy of a man, with his hysteric constitu- 
 tion set up in splints of stoic endurance, with his brain filled 
 with fumes of theological disputes, with his moral nature 
 invalid and shrivelled, and his outlook wilfully closed to the 
 most restricted and uninspiring of surroundings ; what could 
 he have to say of illumination in that domain where human 
 passions rage in their lurid fires or splendid aspirations, and 
 where thoughts, emotions, hopes, fling themselves above the 
 ocean of stress and strength towards some glimpse of divine 
 ideals ? 
 
 In a study which, however severe, involves only formal 
 methods, as in mathematics, I grant that the great genius of 
 a solitary thinker may overcome all obstacles, but that is 
 not the case with ethics. Still less can it be so if the 
 scientific base, the discovery of which is still possible In these 
 conditions, be not truly laid, and if the arguments proceeding 
 from the premises adopted lack both sequence and cogency. 
 
 What, then, do we actually find in the system of Kant? 
 Precisely what we should have been led to expect ; never a 
 great comprehensive view, like that of Aristotle, of the 
 problem that he has to treat; but disquisitions from which 
 finally arises the famous "categorical imperative" which 
 pure reason delivers to pure will, and which, though every 
 motive protest, must inevitably be obeyed. 
 
 Kant was waked from his dogmatic slumber, he tells us, 
 by Hume. While pious i>eople among Hume's compatriots 
 at home were worked up to violent exasperation that found 
 outlet in mean intrigue to destroy his worldly position, Kant 
 felt the challenge as an intellectual champion. 
 
 He does not consider the whole matter from the ground 
 of things in complete impartiality ; he desires, above all 
 else, to demolish, or at least to foil, Hume, and he cries 
 throughout the Kritik that we must save this Freedom of 
 Will. ' 
 
 1 I refer the reader to the forthcoming " Principles of Psychology " 
 for the destructive criticism of the speculative part of the Kritik. 
 
44 ETHICS 
 
 But just as he forces himself to find a reason independent 
 of the indication of the senses, and invents a transcendental 
 world where this is possible, so he finds in the same domain 
 of his conceptions a possibility of enforcing duties divorced 
 from motives. ^ 
 
 Kant's philosophy is, in fact, emotional. He was seeking 
 in expression a satisfaction for the emotional needs of an 
 etiolated nature, and for his stoic doctrines. These stoic 
 doctrines, it must be remembered, were reconcilable in 
 his mind with that sort of servility which was the moral 
 incense of the dutiful subject offered to the Hohenzollern 
 God. 
 
 Kant had been terrified by the early mutterings of the 
 French Revolution, and his mental and moral nature never 
 recovered that shock. His writings are couched in strange, 
 pcmpK>us, highly spiritual, but unscientific forms, the ex- 
 pression of the bourgeois stunned out of the petty round of 
 his affections by some great world event of which he cannot 
 embrace the significance, but of which the manifestations 
 fill him with alarm. As a buttress against the wicked 
 French Revolution Kant paraphrases into a false philosophy 
 the ordinances of the Prussian Monarchy.^ 
 
 There is an aspect of Kant's methods which it is interest- 
 
 * Goethe, the value of whose contributions to science the Germans 
 have been accustomed to exaggerate beyond measure, yet saw with 
 clear vision the absurdity of Kant's conclusions here, and laughed at 
 him in more or less sprightly epigrams. 
 
 2 This account of the transcendental philosophy departs widely 
 from the conventional treatment, but though I have presented it in 
 abrupt conciseness, it does not follow that it is less true on that 
 account. I could develop the theme so as to show all the reasons by 
 which it could be sustained ; I have instead taken bold steps from 
 point to point. 
 
 Kant's exposition is so obscure and involved that even great 
 authorities differ widely with regard to the very translation of his 
 phrases, and Max Miiller lays ominous stress on the responsibility 
 borne by the prepossessions. This being so, many a student has 
 spent years of study on Kant without feeling that he possesses an 
 instrument, or an illumination, or a body of principles, or without 
 being sure even that he has grasped Kant. 
 
 I say therefore, and once again I rest on demonstration, that the 
 best beginning of the reading of Kant is to study " Psychology : A 
 New System," or the " Principles of Psychology." Then the under- 
 standing of Kant will be facilitated, for the student will perceive 
 what Kant aimed at, and wherein he failed, and what was the 
 meaning of his obscure searchings and tentative efforts. 
 
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS 45 
 
 ing to note, and which recalls the remarks on the attempt of 
 Descartes to formalize the cosmos. 
 
 In all the work of the German thinker one finds a search 
 to determine the origin of things. Kant finds that the world 
 we know through our senses is but a representation of the 
 real world (things in themselves), and he watches the transit, 
 so to speak, from the world of things in themselves to the 
 world of sense in order to note the processes. I have shown 
 elsewhere^ that to regard what we know of by our senses as 
 a transformed appearance of some entity having existence is 
 illusory. It is also illusory to suppose a form of reason that 
 is independent of the effects of sense. I have shown that 
 reason is conditioned by the nature of our senses and by 
 their limitations. 
 
 The tendency of Kant, however, to seek for origins is 
 laudable ; and hence we find that the really valuable part of 
 his speculation deals with the origin of the solar system. 
 Kant succeeded here, because the influence of prepossessions 
 and positions to "defend " was less, and because his conclu- 
 sions could be tested by appeal to physical nature. More- 
 over, he contented himself with a vague outline of a system, 
 while it was reserved for the genius of Laplace to handle the 
 "nebular hypothesis " with real power and to give it 
 development. 
 
 One further remark seems called for before parting from 
 Kant. 
 
 The intelligence of the ordinary reader is disconcerted, 
 or at least disappointed, when one by one the systems of 
 thinkers are demolished, even the most elaborate; and the 
 half-formed suggestion seems to arise that they cannot all be 
 false. 
 
 There is no reason to offer for this presumed validity of 
 any one of these, if in fact it be not valid. There is nothing 
 in nature that makes her yield her secrets to the best of 
 tentative efforts that are not properly directed, as if the dis- 
 covery of truth were the reward of a kind of competitive 
 examination. 
 
 In another matter where the test is decisive we may see — 
 as, for instance, in physics, in chemistry, in medicine — that 
 
 * •' Psychology : A New System " and " Principles of Psychology." 
 
46 ETHICS 
 
 false doctrines may prevail for centuries -and be sedulously 
 handed down from gfeneration to generation, and when by an 
 appeal to nature the baselessness of these doctrines may 
 have been shown at leng^, it is seen how puerile has been 
 the argument from authority or from our sense of obedience 
 to etiquette. 
 
 Kant's whole transcendental philosophy Is baseless, and 
 soon it will cease to encumber the entrance to the true 
 domain. If a proposal be made to reconstruct it — and this 
 would be proper were the system truly founded — it would be 
 seen how absurd it was from the beginning to build on modes 
 of thought having only the remotest relation to the vast and 
 complex conditions of the problem prescribed. ^ 
 
 Hetfel 
 
 Next to Kant the figure of Hegel (i 770-1 831) looms large 
 in the German philosophy, and he has the high academic 
 distinction of being still more difficult to understand. Hegel 
 in his youth was accounted a forward spirit ; he read 
 Rousseau, and he hailed the French Revolution. The reality 
 terrified him, and the repentant sinner settled down eventually 
 as a functionary of the Prussian monarchy, while filling a 
 chair of philosophy at Berlin. 
 
 His philosophic system is not based on nature, nor 
 supported by any lucid or cogent system of argument. In 
 ethics he represents the current views of the Hohenzollern 
 regime, not in the sense of reducing these to sure founda- 
 tions, but by paraphrasing into philosophic language the 
 expressions of the servile bureaucracy of his time. Hegel 
 finds that the moral man must obey the dictates of a 
 universal will, even against the promptings of his own con- 
 science ; and this universal will he conceives as objectively 
 presented to each man in the laws, institutions, and 
 customary morality of the country. 
 
 Of the vahdity of this slavish doctrine he offers no proof. 
 
 ^ It is finally a comforting reflection that nature never yields her 
 secrets or exhibits the beauty of a law that explains events unless a 
 study be undertaken of the actual phenomena and the argument be 
 conducted point by point with complete regard for truth. She is 
 continually directing us, for she withholds her countenance when we 
 stray in wrong directions, but responds inevitably and at all times 
 when we take the right path. 
 
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS 47 
 
 It is not based on science. If then a man puts forward 
 without science a system of thought, what does it represent? 
 Clearly nothing more than the opinions that he has gathered 
 in all sorts of ways through personal predilections, prejudices, 
 party cries, conventions, and all the hazardous influences 
 steeped in the notions of his familiars. The sum total of 
 these has but small scientific value, but Hegel's influence, or, 
 rather, the influence of principles that can shelter under his 
 reputation, has been considerable. Hegel's disciples consist 
 of two classes of people : the Prussian Conservative, 
 orthodox, clerical type ; and the pantheistic, humanitarian, 
 anti-clerical Socialists, of whom Karl Marx was the shining 
 light. 
 
 To unite these opposing camps was a great feat, but 
 whether of universality of doctrine or obscurity of meaning 
 may be left to the disciples to determine. 
 
 Hegel clothed his servility in a certain arrogance of 
 expression. He says that you cannot argue as to acceptance 
 or non-acceptance of the State ; it is given. 
 
 In some such terms for my part I would speak of the 
 universe as it exists ; but it might be philosophically urged 
 — and the demonstration has become easier of late — that the 
 universe and the Prussian monarchy are not convertible 
 terms. 
 
 That monarchy represented the summit of earthly things 
 and something more apparently to the souls of Kant and 
 Hegel; how has the philosophic theory been judged by this 
 test? 
 
 The answer will be given by history. Without intro- 
 ducing any undue political bias it may be said in regard 
 to the late war that the great fact that will stand out 
 in relief is that of the possibility for one man, the Kaiser 
 Wilhelm II., devoid of great brain power or moral elevation, 
 or energy, or courage, or splendid achievement, or service to 
 mankind, to have gathered into his hands the power of 
 launching tens of millions of men to slaughter. The actual 
 killing of men is always tragic, but the auspices under whicli 
 millions went to death, the ideals they upheld, the low sources 
 of the war, and the constraint of the immense energy in- 
 volved to inferior purpK>ses^ — all that seems to me more 
 terrible than tragedy ; it bears the mark of ethical disgrace. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 Types of English Philosophers 
 
 Herbert Spenoer— The Germinal Idea 
 
 Omitting the names of thinkers who have achieved celebrity 
 in their day, but who have left little on which scientific 
 development is possible, we come to the work of Herbert 
 Spencer. 
 
 He seems to me the first since Aristotle who sought to 
 lay the foundation of ethics on deep and sure considerations. 
 
 The total work of Herbert Spencer, of which the Data 
 of Ethics is the crowning- edifice, is so bulky that here again 
 we must devise some special method of grappling with it. 
 
 The suggestion arises once more to seek for the "ger- 
 minal idea " of this work. The principle of evolution runs 
 through the entire body of Spencer's philosophy, and the 
 whole work may be regarded as an exemplification of that 
 doctrine. The principle of evolution might thus be said to 
 be the "germinal idea." But the further question arises — 
 by what process of thought was Spencer led to the recog- 
 nition and the foundation of that principle? He nowhere 
 explains this directly, but from a study of his writings, with 
 particular attention to his manner of expression, and 
 especially aided by a passage in his " Principles of Psycho- 
 logy," I think it pKDssible to indicate the strain of reasoning. 
 
 Taking evolution to mean the way of progress to higher 
 development, Spencer selects for comparison two types of 
 the organic world at the different ends of the scale, man 
 and the amoeba. He then studies the essential difference 
 between the being and the faculties of these specimens, and 
 endeavours to express the distinctions in general terms, and 
 to discard any that are redundant or are derivable from 
 those finally selected. 
 
 Spencer looked on the amoeba as a creature almost homo- 
 geneous in substance and uniform in function. Man, on 
 
 48 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 49 
 
 the Other hand, is built up in a complex way of a great 
 variety of components, and his functions are complicated, 
 and subject to co-ordination and subordination. Hence we 
 get guidance as to the principle of evolution. 
 
 Spencer has several different forms of enunciation of the 
 doctrine of evolution, but they all correspond in meaning. 
 
 From ''First Principles" II., XVII. ,§ 145 (1875), I take 
 the following : " Evolution is an integration of matter 
 and concomitant dissipation of motion ; during which the 
 matter passes from an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity 
 to a definite, coherent heterogeneity ; and during which 
 the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation." 
 
 In other passages Spencer sought to implicate with his 
 conception of evolution the notion of increasing definiteness 
 with regard to time and space, and having once introduced 
 this conception he returns to it again and again with in- 
 sistence, so that it should be taken as forming part of the 
 enunciation of the doctrine. 
 
 The theory of Evolution has come to be accepted among 
 thinking people as one of the commonplaces of science, as 
 incontestable as the law of gravitation or the theory of 
 the circulation of the blood. The word has passed into 
 current usage in such a way that any change from one 
 condition to another, especially if it be thought that a higher 
 state has been reached, is spoken of as "evolution."* 
 
 We shall see that there are many changes of condition 
 
 * When M. Houllevigue speaks of " evolution of the sciences " the 
 terms may be acceptable. But, for example, we find an old chemist, 
 Glaser, writing in 1670 of his particular science: ** Chemistry is 
 the art of opening compounds by operations consisting in cutting, 
 bruising, pulverizing, alcoholizing, scraping, sawing, precipitating, 
 granulating, laminating, melting, liquefying, digesting, infusing, 
 macerating, etcetera." If we compare such an account with the 
 conceptions of a modern chemist we do not find a change from 
 homogeneity to heterogeneity. It is common to speak of the evolution 
 of energy ; Brunhes writes of the degradation of energy ; Matout, with 
 conceptions not dissimilar, writes of the cycle of evolution. Lord 
 Crawford has published a book on the evolution of Italian sculpture. 
 We hear of the evolution of the golf-ball. 
 
 These examples are given to show that the term evolution, though 
 rendered popular, has lost in the process any precise definition. In 
 discussing Herbert Spencer's enunciation we must be both searching 
 and circumspect, for he aims at precision, and he bases a system of 
 philosophy on his doctrine. 
 
50 ETHICS 
 
 that escape the description of evolution, and we shall find 
 it difficult, starting^ from any g^iven condition, to formulate 
 any new state inevitably derived from it by the principles 
 set out by Herbert Spencer. 
 
 The examination of this doctrine is crucial, and it 
 demands close attention ; therefore in order to make the 
 exposition clearer I say in advance that one will find, on 
 close scrutiny, that Spencer's conception of the essential 
 difference of amoeba and man is neither sufficiently precise 
 nor complete ; and that when we attempt to apply the 
 doctrine according to his enunciation we shall find that it 
 is not a principle of nature in the sense, for example, in 
 which the ascertained laws of mechanics represent the cause 
 of phenomena, but that it is at best an indication for classifi- 
 cation, and that its usefulness in this respect is illusory on 
 account of the lack of quantitative factors. 
 
 It will then appear that Spencer's synthetic philosophy 
 is not founded, in the manner of necessity, on this doctrine, 
 and therefore that what is left reduces, as in the case of 
 Kant and Hegel, to personal predilections influenced by 
 prevailing" opinions and customs. 
 
 Let us proceed to examine the basis of the theory of 
 evolution. 
 
 In the first place, Spencer assumes too readily the 
 homogeneous character of the amoeba. It was formerly the 
 custom to speak of these creatures as structureless, but such 
 words offer a measure not of the complexity of the organism, 
 but of the limitations of our own observation. The more 
 the powers of the microscope are increased and the more 
 these minute beings are studied, the higher do they seem 
 to rise in the scale of development. 
 
 Sir Ray Lankester, for example, speaks of the compli- 
 cated structure of diatoms possessing delicate, wonderfully 
 sculptured coats of glass-like silica. Every free living 
 unicell has a complete organization — mouth, pharynx, renal 
 organ, locomotive organ. With each cell there is, moreover, 
 a nucleus endowed with wonderful properties. That is really 
 implied in the fact of life itself. Life involves waste, hence 
 also sustenance. The absorption of food of any kind implies 
 some means, however rudimentary, of reception. In the 
 amoeba there is a selection of food. Nutrition implies 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 51 
 
 digestion, distribution, and excretion. Distribution depends 
 on some sort of circulatory system. There must be move- 
 ment, whether in regard to the organism as a whole or 
 of the parts as between themselves ; and since these pro- 
 cesses correspond to an ordered activity, there must be 
 response to stimulus; there must be control of the required 
 adjustments, and there must be co-ordination. All that 
 implies some representative of the nervous system. 
 
 The movements of unicells are not left entirely to chance. 
 Biologists who study these low forms of life observe that 
 certain chemical substances attract them, and they call this 
 tendency to draw near suchi substances chemio-taxis. This 
 is merely a symbol covering a fact. Chemio-taxis is not 
 anything comparable to gravitation ; it is selective, it depends 
 on emanations from the chemical substance as stimulating 
 the organism. There is here some affective quality or faculty 
 of the organism involved, and it is in response to this that 
 movements are made. 
 
 It may be questioned whether we have not here a rudi- 
 mentary mind.^ Be that as it may, it is evident that we are 
 far away from a homogeneous amoeba, and the impression 
 becomes increased with each fresh observation that it is only 
 the limitations of our vision that prevent us from recog- 
 nizing in these creatures a marvellous complexity of 
 structure. 
 
 Note here, too, that as a microscopic being must conduct 
 
 ^ This suggestion is the more likely to be patiently considered in 
 proportion as the reader has studied those organisms. Atkins, whose 
 work with Hodge on unicells is admirable, inclines to credit the 
 unicells with something analogous to intelligence. Amongst others 
 who have considered the psychic element in unicells may be men- 
 tioned : Metalnikow (" Archives de Zoologie Experimentale," vol. 
 xlix, p. S73> 1912) ; A. J. Stewart (" On the Physics and Physiology 
 of Protoplasmic Staining in Plants ") ; W. B. Hardy (" The Physical 
 Basis of Life," " Science Progress " ; 1906) ; Gary N. C. Calkins 
 (" Protozoa "); G. Bohn (" La Naissance de I'lntelligence ") ; H. S. 
 Jennings (" The Behaviour of Lower Organisms ") ; M. F. Washburn 
 ("The Animal Mind"); A. Binet ("The Psychical Life of Micro- 
 Organisms"); G. C. Crampton (*' Archiv fiir Protistenkunde," vol. 
 xxvii,). Cf. also Professor F. Darwin's Presidential Address to the 
 British Association, igo8. 
 
 Hering's theory of memory is based on the supposition of psychic 
 impressions in single cells. I do not accept Hering's psychology, 
 but it is evident from a study of memory that modifications of cells 
 are correlated to psychic impressions. 
 
52 ETHICS 
 
 its life in a sphere much more restricted than ours in regard 
 to time and space, that Herbert Spencer's insistence on the 
 criteria of higher evolution as derived from these principles 
 is misplaced. 
 
 Here, to prevent misunderstanding, I insert the remark 
 that I accept Spencer's position that man is higher than 
 the amoeba ; I am only traversing point by point his manner 
 of comparison and the result. Subsequently I will reconsider 
 all these data and endeavour to obtain more satisfactory 
 inferences. 
 
 Let us, however, examine another part of his enunciation : 
 
 ** Evolution is an integration of matter and concomitant 
 dissipation of motion " 
 
 I am not sure that I have completely grasped Spencer's 
 meaning here, but I may plead on my own behalf that the 
 onus of explaining it rather rested with him, and that he 
 has nowhere made this statement perfectly clear. Let us 
 examine it in one or two applications. 
 
 If we have a material system of particles, say, for sim- 
 plicity, a number of billiard balls at rest, and we project 
 amongst them another which has mass, m, and velocity, v. 
 The energy of that projectile is J^mz;\ When it strikes one 
 of the others — and the effect is continued — the energy of the 
 system remains the same.^ 
 
 It is evident, therefore, that the velocity of each of 
 these bodies must be less than the first velocity of the body 
 first considered, and the direction of the velocities will be 
 also various. 
 
 If we form a picture of suchi processes we shall see that 
 there is a ** dissipation of motion " in the sense that whereas 
 we had originally one velocity in a given direction, we have 
 a series of less velocities in scattered directions. 
 
 Also, if these bodies be all retained together in some 
 way so as to make a new connected body or system, there 
 will be an "integration of matter," and the "dissipation 
 of motion ' ' will be concomitant. 
 
 Here, then, we have an example that conforms to this 
 
 * Thus, disregarding losses due to such causes as friction, we would 
 have imv« = im,v,« + Jm^v,* +...-(- ^ninVn* 4- |nivm' where m,, 
 m, , . . . nin. are the masses and v,, v,, . . . Vn the velocities of the 
 other bodies, and v the new velocity of m. 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 53 
 
 part of the enunciation ; but the relation of this to evolution 
 is less evident. In what way could it be said that the second 
 system shows a higher degree of evolution than the first? 
 The process in its simplest form is that of composition or 
 decomposition of forces, and there is no criterion for deter- 
 mining that any one system into which these forces can be 
 resolved has a structural superiority, independent of any 
 special adaptation, over another. 
 
 The question is worth pursuing a little farther, for it will 
 be found to touch on very interesting matters. 
 
 Take the case of simple geometrical figures. It is possible 
 to vary the form of an ellipse progressively so that it may 
 become a circle, or, on the other hand, may become an 
 hyperbola. But these changes are, of course, reversible. 
 We may speak loosely of the evolution of the hyperbola 
 from the ellipse, or vice versa, but to the change effected 
 we cannot apply Herbert Spencer's formula. 
 
 When we consider the actual atoms of matter from which 
 all substances, organic and inorganic, are built up, we find 
 a theory which modern physics makes plausible ; at least, 
 that they compose a system in which there is a central 
 nucleus round which electrons revolve. The central nucleus 
 is supposed to be formed by hydrogen atoms. Certain 
 atoms may be successively reduced to others by explosions 
 which separate one by one the hydrogen atoms from the 
 nucleus. Thus radium may in this way be reduced to lead. 
 If the process be conceived as reversed, we have radium 
 produced from lead by evolution. But there is here no in- 
 creased heterogeneity, for the hydrogen atoms are assumed 
 to have constant properties. 
 
 The term dissipation of motion would seem to be more 
 fitting to the case of a hydrogen atom escaping from the 
 nucleus at high velocity ; but we may accept, by definition, 
 the view that dissipation of motion applies to the condition 
 previous to this event. 
 
 What we have really changed is the relation of these 
 atoms to each other, and this is capable of being reduced 
 to such examples as that of the billiard balls and the relations 
 of geometrical figures to each other. In neither case can 
 we speak of evolution with any definite meaning; nor, 
 indeed, can we, without something extraneous to determine 
 
54 ETHICS 
 
 the choice, say that radium is higher in the scale of evolu- 
 tion than lead, or vice versa. Radium may occupy a distinct 
 p>osition, partly on account of its literary and popular asso- 
 ciations, but difficulties would arise on account of the place 
 in the scale, say, of iron or gold. 
 
 These discussions may appear almost fantastical, but 
 the onus must rest with Herbert Spencer, for he has enun- 
 ciated his doctrine in that way. The truth is that he has 
 pressed too far the laudable endeavour to find a deep base 
 for his theory in his attempt to obtain a great principle, 
 and in this way he has lit upwn a generalization too vague to 
 be fertile.^ 
 
 Suppose, however, that instead of taking these mechanical 
 examples by which to test Spencer's doctrine we proceed 
 to the union, or, as he calls it, the integration of a cell to 
 another cell or collection of cells. Here we introduce new 
 factors, but the question of the ** concomitant dissipation of 
 motion " becomes obscure. The velocity of approach of the 
 cells is not what counts here, but the relations, immensely 
 complex when expressed in terms of dynamics, of one 
 organism to another, and the case is not covered by the 
 vague expression, "dissipation of motion." 
 
 ^ I am the last in the world to object to a starting point on the 
 ground of its being fundamental, for in "Psychology: A New 
 System " and *' Principles of Psychology " I insist on the necessity 
 of finding such a base on which to build our arguments in regard 
 to mental processes; but certain other conditions are insisted on, and 
 they are that such arguments shall be rigorous and cogent, leading 
 by consecutive steps to definite conclusions. 
 
 Further, I endorse Kirchoff's dictum, expressed in the epigram- 
 matic saying : " There is only one science — mechanics," in regard 
 to the physical world ; that is to say, all happenings in the material 
 universe would be explicable by mechanical laws if only our knowledge 
 were sufficiently deep, wide and well organized. But it may happen 
 at times that even in this world of things we are on more secure 
 ground when we renounce for the moment the desire to penetrate 
 into the ultimate constitution of molecules and the forces that control 
 them. An engineer has sketched out the form of a girder bridge, 
 and he wishes to calculate the sizes of the various parts. He forms 
 an approximation to the weight of the bridge, and as this is borne 
 by the supports at each end, he obtains a basis from which, pro- 
 ceeding step by step, he is able to calculate the stresses. The base 
 here is fundamental enough to be accepted with entire surety ; but 
 if the engineer tried to obtain the weight on each support by 
 working out a resultant of the molecular forces in the girder, he would 
 fail altogether. 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 55 
 
 With regard to the * ' definitions of acts in regard to 
 Time and Space, ' ' which was an afterthought to the original 
 formulation but to which Spencer subsequently attached 
 great importance, his expression seems to me very vague, 
 and in certain cases when he makes it more clear by his 
 applications I have found it faulty.^ 
 
 Suppose, however, we were to waive, for the purposes 
 of argument, these criticisms of Spencer's doctrine, and 
 endeavour sympathetically to eke out his meaning. It is 
 true that we get a real advance in evolution when we turn 
 from a relatively simple body — it cannot be homogeneous — 
 performing simple functions without variation to a complex 
 body built up of heterogeneous parts performing functions 
 which are not only relatively more complex, but which 
 involve in their working out greater extents of Time and 
 Space. 
 
 In that case is the doctrine satisfying? I answer, no, 
 for if we form a fair picture of this process of evolution 
 we see that complexity of type depends on the co-ordination 
 and subordination of a great many different factors ; and 
 this implies that the development of certain faculties is 
 obtained at the expense of others or by keeping certain 
 others in abeyance. 
 
 It is impossible, then, to say which of two near states 
 represents the tendency to higher development unless we 
 have in view some standard by which the higher develop- 
 m.ent can be tested, as, for instance, by some purpose which 
 the organism is destined to achieve. 
 
 In any organism there are the possibilities of a great 
 development of powers ; but, if only on account of the neces- 
 sities of time, it is not possible to cultivate them all. 
 
 If any set of them, be selected and developed according 
 to an appropriate plan, we could have, in regard to that set, 
 a result on which we all could agree as presenting a higher 
 type. If, for example, the powers of locomotion in a hunt- 
 ing animal, even primitive man, were to be brought to a fine 
 state of excellence, we would have in the arts and achieve- 
 
 ^ Note, for example, when Spencer finds that the cerebellum sub- 
 serves co-ordinations in space, the cerebrum co-ordinations in time; 
 I have in " Principles of Psychology " shown that there cannot be 
 co-ordinations in space that are not co-ordinations in time. 
 
56 ETHICS 
 
 ments of such a being, something- that corresponded to 
 Spencer's definitions in Time and Space. 
 
 But these particular powers may have been brought to 
 their polish at the expense possibly of the development of the 
 faculty of hearing, for musical sounds at least ; or of seeing, 
 for certain shades and harmonies of colour; or of fine 
 tactual sensations; or, again, the development may impede 
 the best exercise of the intellectual powers. Where, then, is 
 the test by which Spencer could lead us step by step to the 
 higher type? He has left us with a number of faculties and 
 with certain general lines of development, but he has — ^and 
 this is a very impvortant point — ^given us no quantitative 
 estimation and no final criterion. 
 
 We may obtain these guides elsewhere, but they are 
 not contained in Spencer's formulation of the requirements of 
 evolution. 
 
 We get no help by watching the progress of organisms 
 in the actual world, for lapse of time does not imply advance, 
 and we are face to face with the problem of recession or 
 degeneration. If that degeneration be expressed in the form 
 of allowing certain faculties to recede by disuse and by 
 cultivating others in compensation, then this process could 
 quite well be described in the terms of Spencer's evolution. 
 The process of regression may not be by the direct reversal 
 of the previous developments step by step, and the question 
 arises as to whether in such cases the terms degeneration or 
 regression are not question-begging epithets. 
 
 To take a very simple case, suppose that a philosopher 
 studying the social life of London as a sort of organism has 
 sought for some deep basis of classification, and that having 
 observed a vast movement of people eastwards to the City 
 he has formulated a law that expressed such a condition of 
 things. If, then, later his attention be called to the fact of a 
 vast movement in the opposite direction, he may content 
 himself by saying that these represented the inverse of the 
 law. 
 
 But if the movement were not only East and West, but 
 North and South, and that each of these main movements had 
 subsidiary movements in various directions, with reverse 
 movements, all intervolved and loosely co-ordinated, and if 
 there were no indication to show what classes of persons 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 57 
 
 were likely to obey the law or run counter to it, nor even 
 what relative proportion existed, nor any hint of the causes 
 or system of causes that produced the effect, then the law 
 would certainly not be very helpful/ 
 
 We find, then, that Spencer's doctrine of Evolution eludes 
 us. The reason expressed in general terms is that it presents 
 us with a system of variables, which are not defined quantita- 
 tively, nor expressed with reference to mutual relations, nor 
 determined in regard to direction of activity ; and from these 
 data we are asked to calculate a resultant. It is no more 
 possible to formulate a law on such a basis than it is to 
 offer the definite solution of a problem in Algebra in which 
 the unknowns are in greater number than the equations 
 which serve to determine them.^ 
 
 Spencer recognized, as also Aristotle and Kant before 
 him, that an account of ethics should be based on a clear 
 view of psychology ; but Spencer professes to found his 
 psychology also, and indeed all the successive works of his 
 Synthetic Philosophy on the doctrine of evolution. But 
 evidently from what we have seen there is no basis here 
 for a complete discussion of psychology, and Spencer's 
 Psychology is both inadequate and faulty.^ 
 
 Definitely, then, I say, on the ground of such proofs as 
 have been given, that in regard to the claims of being 
 founded on a fundamental and true doctrine, the Synthetic 
 Philosophy of Herbert Spencer has no more weight than the 
 transcendental philosophy of Kant. 
 
 What, then, remains? Simply the opinions of Herbert 
 Sj>encer. These certainly have great value, although, even 
 
 ^ The conception of degeneration may well be distinguished from 
 that of simple inversion of the process of evolution. This has been 
 shown by a distinguished Belgian biologist, DoUo, in his study of 
 Cephalopods. C/. an article on the subject, " L'Irr6versibilite de 
 I'Evolution," by Robert Douville in the " Revue Scientifique." 
 
 * The principle of evolution has not even in biology afforded any 
 well defined system of classification. The main laws of the orthodox 
 classification were laid down by Cuvier, who was not an evolutionist. 
 Alfred Giard, who was a Darwinist, but one who recognized, as 
 Darwin did, the value of the work of I^marck, mentions three other 
 important systems : that of Lacaze-Duthiers (based on the morphology 
 of the adult) ; that of C. Semper (anatomo-embryonic) ; that of Huxley 
 (purely objective). He was not satisfied with any of these; he pro- 
 posed the principle of embryonic super-position. 
 
 * I have given proof of this in *' Principles of Psychology.'* 
 
58 ETHICS 
 
 if his presentation of the course of evolution were correct, 
 he nowhere shows clearly and cogently the steps of demon- 
 stration between that and his conclusions; yet throughout 
 his writings there are a great number of acute remarks, and 
 the deepi and comprehensive manner in which he handles his 
 subject is itself of great educational value/ 
 
 Herbert Spencer's little work on Education will always 
 have value, but his theories of Style are not endowed with 
 that unerring insight that his admirers once attributed to 
 all that flowed from the doctrine of Evolution. His "Man 
 versus the State " is an expression of his personal strong 
 Individualism. It contains much that is true, but it is not 
 the product of a wide and circumspect view. 
 
 Herbert Spencer was a good bourgeois who, apart from 
 a few idiosyncrasies tand shortcomings of temperament, 
 endowments, and experience, saw the world with sage 
 and kindly eyes of a peace-loving citizen ; but all this 
 gives no authority to an argument wrongly based in 
 science. 
 
 One of the most fertile of his suggestions, though it does 
 not arise out of his formula of evolution, is that of finding a 
 criterion of excellence of systems in the scope and "mass " 
 of life which it favours. 
 
 Reference will be made to Spencer later when we en- 
 deavour to find the true principles, and when therefore we 
 incorporate all that is true of all the preceding systems. For 
 the present I say that when we come to opinion against 
 opinion and compare Herbert Spencer with Aristotle, I find 
 the Greek, in spite of the disadvantage of being shut off^ from 
 the knowledge of modern developments, more representative 
 of the powers and passions of man, more plastic and genial, 
 and brightly apprehensive, and, in the main lines, more free 
 from the warpings and bias of time and place. 
 
 It is no part of my intention to follow the course of the 
 history of ethics, and the examination of Herbert Spencer's 
 
 ^ A great deal of the immense authority that Herbert Spencer 
 enjoyed arose from the bulk of his works. Even intellectual opinion 
 is on the side of big battalions of letterpress. Looking into the 
 matter closely one finds that in all his writings, his " Principles of 
 Psychology," for example, there is a great volume of matter which 
 might have been relegated to separate textbooks, and certain parts 
 of this auxiliary matter are faulty. 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 59 
 
 system renders it of little interest to deal with the specula- 
 tions of others of his time, for although I have found ground 
 for rejecting Spencer's doctrine, I recognize that he alone has 
 attempted a solution of the problem on the basis of science. 
 
 Bentham 
 
 Bentham and the School of Utilitarians, for example, set 
 store by the "greatest happiness of the greatest number." 
 The phrase has, become famous, but in itself it represents less 
 a scientific treatment than a pious aspiration. Suppose that 
 in any contingency the two terms ** greatest happiness " and 
 "greatest number " were incompatible, what then? Suppose 
 that in a besieged town we had bread only for a limited 
 number, and that the dreadful obligation seemed to be placed 
 upon us of making a choice, would we feel that the burden 
 had been removed by the suggestion of giving to each 
 inhabitant the maximum? 
 
 As opposed to the Utilitarians we have the Idealists of 
 various categories. I do not reject the Ideal, be it noted, I 
 only demand to know what it is, and in view of the manner 
 in which the term is employed I am sometimes inclined to 
 repeat after Shelley : " One word is too often profaned for 
 me to profane it." 
 
 Types of Literary Philosophers— Carlyle 
 
 Carlyle, in his "Sartor Resartus," loses himself in the mists 
 of German philosophy. The origin of the main thought of the 
 book is this : After Kant had pointed more or less vaguely to 
 "things-in-them selves," it was inevitable that some disciple 
 would arise who would give a definition to these unknow- 
 able s. 
 
 Schelling, catching at the slogans of science, cried : "All 
 is electricity ! All is electricity ! " Fichte, from the same 
 fountain-head, arrived at a strange philosophy, in which the 
 great act of life was Entsagen or Renunciation. Carlyle, 
 who was a sentimentalist, and, in spite of his rough manners, 
 a weak man, had seized upon this German philosophy with 
 the Schwdrmerei of a Gretchen, and not the less willingly 
 that it was incomprehensible. " Sartor Resartus " expounds 
 the doctrine of Entsagen. Herein it is sheer nonsense, and 
 to cut the matter short I will simply give my opinion on the 
 
6o ETHICS 
 
 .point, for neither Fichte nor Carlyle had any other ground 
 for their original declaration, and they were both deficient in 
 clear luminous views and consecutive thought. 
 
 Though I say this I may remark that there are few books 
 which I have read oftener or with greater pleasure than 
 "Sartor Resartus," for it has the saving graces both of 
 enthusiasm and humour. 
 
 Carlyle noting that the world we know is nothing but 
 the appearance, or the clothing, of the things in themselves, 
 reverses the process of contemplation and sees in our 
 ordinary clothes the mystic representation of a deep cult. 
 Hence such passages as that of the immortal walk down 
 Monmouth Street (in St. Giles'), where the Jew old-clothes 
 vendor with his three hats is regarded as a sort of pontiff 
 with triple tiara. 
 
 Carlyle, however, was not even a consistent guide in 
 matters of ethics, and his originality and violence of lan- 
 guage went hand in hand with an obsequious deference 
 to glaring shams and servility to rank and power. 
 
 Tannyson— Raskin 
 
 ContemiX)rary with Carlyle were those who gave poetic 
 adornments to an aspect of life in which he stood forth as 
 the thinker. Tennyson was the chief pK>et, and Ruskin the 
 ethical educator. From the philosophic standpoint the works 
 of both are immersed in the passing phases of their day, 
 and they are on this account valueless, while on the literary 
 side they are affected with a hot-house manner and a 
 preciousness of style which make one long for a breath of 
 fresh air. 
 
 Partly by their example, and partly from the writings of 
 less famous mortals who, nevertheless, have exercised great 
 popular influence, there has grown up a conventional, in- 
 sincere, namby-pamby style of touching upon all questions of 
 ethics or of morals; and high conduct and edifying teaching 
 have been considered as inseparable from a certain manner 
 of compromise and make-believe, intellectual limitation and 
 moral cowardice, together with the cultivation of a sort of 
 high-pitched hysteria. 
 
 To such moods of life the name " Spirituality " is some- 
 times applied, and custom then requires that every thinker 
 
ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS 6i 
 
 should bow down his head in reverence to such superior 
 attributes. ^ 
 
 There is much falsity hidden under these high-sounding- 
 names, and with falsity, of course, unwholesomeness. When 
 any strain of spirituality is inconsistent with truth, or with 
 the general ordering and balance of Nature, it marks not a 
 high but a vicious tendency. 
 
 This point must be driven home determinedly, for the 
 play of the forces of the cosmos is on our side. 
 
 Those who feel the need of sacrifice and long to have 
 their intellectual and moral fibres tested and strained will, 
 I assure them, find enough to content them in the simple 
 assertion of truth. 
 
 ^ The Nobel Prize aims at rewarding writers of literature which 
 gives evidence of spirituahty. I am in accord if by spirituality be 
 meant a high and splendid aspiration towards truth ; but that is not 
 the meaning usually attributed to the term. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Contribution of Biology 
 
 Preliminary Remarks 
 
 Aristotle, though a great biologist, makes no especial play 
 of biology in building his system of ethics. In modern 
 times, however, many biologists talk as if an acquaintance 
 with their particular science enabled a man forthwith to utter 
 decisive opinions on ethics. It required the warning of 
 Huxley, one of the greatest of all, to prevent the immediate 
 application to human society of the morals observable among 
 the beasts of the field. Here already we get a measure of 
 the deficiencies in scientific method of such biologists, for 
 in fooe of new and important factors they do not think it 
 necessary to vary their solution. 
 
 Herbert Spencer's doctrine, even though found inaccept- 
 able, has not exhausted the possibilities of biology, nor 
 even of a correct interpretation of evolution; but it is evi- 
 dent that we must proceed warily in this domain and seek 
 for the grounds that give the professors the com,p>Iete 
 assurance of their wisdom. Biology has of recent years 
 become regarded as a sort of sacred science, so much so 
 that when an ethical teacher, a moralist, or a representative 
 of religion hears that he is in the company of a biologist, 
 he becomes resf>ectful and circumspect, and speaks with 
 extreme caution lest he should be definitely weighed in the 
 scales and found wanting. 
 
 It is partly by chance, however, that this peculiar 
 spiritual quality is ascribed to biology, or to its students. 
 The conclusions of Darwin's "Origin of Species" were 
 believed by a generation of clergymen to run counter to 
 the teachings of the Bible, and Darwin himself and his book 
 became the butt of their rage, their scorn, and their ridicule. 
 
 Darwin had not deliberately set out to destroy their 
 faith ; he had obeyed the promptings of his scientific curiosity 
 
 62 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 63 
 
 to find the solution of a century-old problem, and once 
 launched upon that course he bad small occasion to revert 
 to the Bible. He directed his observation to nature, and 
 in drawing- his inferences from those observations, his 
 mind was bathed not in an atmosphere of polemics, but in 
 a mood of patient meditation. 
 
 When the conclusions were announced it was possible 
 to verify the whole process whichi had led on his thoug^ht ; 
 and so it happened that Darwinism, championed by such 
 doughty adherents as Huxley and Tyndall and Herbert 
 Spencer, gained the day. 
 
 That victory produced a change of opinions which it 
 would have been difficult to describe in terms of evolution, 
 for new champions of religion opined, and ag-ain with won- 
 derful unanimity, that Darwinism, so far from being 
 antagonistic to the doctrine of Holy Writ, really constituted 
 a new and irrefragable basis of faith. 
 
 During the contest, however, the minds of millions of 
 believers all over the world had been terribly perturbed, 
 and even after the discovery of the compatibility of this tract 
 of science with faith the question was left unanswered 
 as to what future ordeals might be in store from which 
 faith was destined to rise victorious and unimpaired. 
 
 The watchful attitude therefore of the blessed with re- 
 gard to biology, compact of awe as well as love, and 
 interfused with the strong desire of propitiation, helped to 
 endow this science with its divine attributes.^ 
 
 ^ At one time there existed a fear on the part of staid and con- 
 servative authorities lest the study of comparative anatomy should 
 contaminate the minds of the young; and I remember the air of 
 fortitude with which a popular preacher — note that when one intro- 
 duces the word " popular " it raises at once the expectancy of 
 defective reasoning — Joseph Cook announced that he was accustomed 
 to gaze, unafraid, upon biological plates. 
 
 At an earlier period, in the days of Hugh Miller, a staunch 
 champion of orthodoxy proudly declared that if the fossils were 
 thought to weigh against his creed he would rather believe that each 
 individual fossil had been placed in its site directly by the finger of 
 God ! " There's fatness ! " There was faith ! 
 
 As a contrast, a succession of Popes for one hundred and fifty years 
 kept the diagrams of the anatomist, Eustachius, locked up in the 
 library of the Vatican, and so succeeded in retarding the progress of 
 this branch of science for many generations. 
 
 It has been tacitly decided that there is no conflict between religion 
 
64 ETHICS 
 
 The biologists accepted the situation with complacence, 
 and occasionally emphasized their prerogatives by ascend- 
 ing to remote conclusions on tenuous arguments unsupported 
 by facts. 
 
 Biology is not the only science to which has been 
 ascribed some sacred quality. The Copernican astronomy 
 which announced inconceivable heresies, the mechanics of 
 Galileo which criticized the scholastic system so sharply, 
 both partook, though in sinister guise, of that special 
 quality. Later when the mathematics of Newton promised 
 so much, the world thought that it had at last found the key 
 to the inner secrets. Maupertuis believed that he had 
 demonstrated God by his principle of Least Action, until 
 it was shown by more expert mathematicians that what he 
 had done was to misinterpret his formulae.^ Daniel Bernoulli 
 wrote to Euler on hearing that he was discussing meta- 
 physics and politics to admonish him to concentrate on 
 "divine things," to wit, his problems in the differential 
 calculus. Later Schelling cried " All is Electricity ! " Then 
 came biology; then as the next great theme, radio-activity, 
 and now relativity. And each of those chief figures in the 
 pageant of fashion, for that is what it amounts to, has been 
 attended by a train of lesser cults, all brilliant, but many 
 of dubious origin — mesmerism, hypnotism, spiritualism, 
 vitalism, creative evolution, psycho-analysis, telepathy. 
 
 The reason why these fashions have prevailed is that 
 
 and science; certainly they are entirely reconcilable on those points 
 where they are both true. 
 
 Nowadays, however, the daring man of faith is not he who dissects 
 an earth-worm or studies the development of an ovum, holding his 
 creed in a domain apart, but he who deliberately studies the whole 
 trend and meaning of veritable scientific explanations of the cosmos 
 and invites the question : Is my creed, as I have understood it, in 
 accordance with the conclusions here found? Such a man is heroic — 
 and lonely. 
 
 ^ One of the most delicate little side studies of philosophy is this 
 question of Least Action, for Maupertuis was defended by Frederick 
 the Great, not with logic but with royal prerogative, and attacked by 
 Voltaire with a rare compound of common sense, wit, and courage. 
 Euler, the greatest mathematician of his time, lent his reputation to 
 the cause of error, and Count d'Arcy, in a brief little mathematical 
 study, jousted Maup)ertuis out of his philosophic saddle. I have 
 rested a moment here, for the story is continually being repeated — the 
 appeal to great names to support shams and to degrade science and 
 truth. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 65 
 
 when a discovery, or the presentation of a new principle, is 
 offered, it bulks large in the popular imagination, for its 
 scope is undetermined and it promises us revelations of the 
 Unknown. Then with time it sinks into the general per- 
 spective where its bulk is small in comparison with what we 
 had learnt of the cosmos already, and finally it becomes dis- 
 placed in esteem by a new favourite. 
 
 Now nothing is further from my intention than to belittle 
 the contribution of science to our judgment in our ethics, 
 but I demand that it shall be science. I have already cut 
 as with the axe of a woodman into the roots of the error 
 of false systems, and for mere authority, even in biology, 
 I have no respect; but standing in face of nature I feel 
 another mood invading me, that of wonder and solicitude ; I 
 long to pierce to the secrets, but I feel how warily we must 
 proceed, and how severely we must test; and withal I have 
 the settled conviction that the need of founding truly and 
 proceeding by rigorous argument is so great that better than 
 to evolve a cycle of dazzling philosophies is it to build even 
 one sure step from which another sincere thinker coming 
 later may still mount. 
 
 The Special Sfgnifloanoe of Biology 
 
 Biology has earned its right to be heard in questions of 
 ethics, if only for the value of the phrases which have 
 formed the battleground of ideas: "Evolution," "struggle 
 for life," "survival of the fittest." 
 
 The struggle for life is evident around us every d«ay, 
 and it speaks volumes for the mental attitude that prevailed 
 for ages amongst philosophers that its importance should 
 not have been noticed until in our time.^ 
 
 The significance of the struggle for life was not seen, 
 
 ^ Here again we must make reference to the wonderful Greeks of 
 old. A few fragments have come down to us of Empedocles, and the 
 reading of these has convinced me that the ancient philosopher had 
 grasped the principle of natural selection. 
 
 The teachings of Empedocles have been transmitted by writers 
 who failed to grasp their import, and we know them only in 
 fragmentary form. It seems to me very improbable, however, that a 
 thinker who had enunciated so much as has been preserved should 
 not have had a clear view of the principle. 
 
 Why then did not this principle make the same stir among the 
 F 
 
66 ETHICS 
 
 at any rate in regard to ethics, until the suggestion arose 
 of the "survival of the fittest." 
 
 This phrase brought fortune. For a couple of genera- 
 tions it seemed to thinkers not only to have solved the 
 question of the variety of species, but also to have given to 
 evolution its peculiar certainty of progress. But the more 
 we look into the matter the more precarious seems this 
 claim. In remote ages before man was born, gigantic 
 creatures ruled the earth — the dinosaur, megatherium, 
 mastodon. They have disappeared. Yes, the reply comes, 
 but these were only the biggest or strongest, not the 
 fittest. 
 
 Then with the development of man we find the Greeks of 
 the age of Pericles giving a lustre to our human race of 
 which we still feel the glory; they disappeared, and for a 
 thousand years only a few men, and these amongst the least 
 esteemed, had intelligence enough to keep the records thy had 
 left. Yes, the reply comes, the Greeks had intelligence, and 
 a high sense of beauty and of art, but they were not the 
 fittest for the conditions of life that became imposed on 
 Europe. 
 
 In our day we hear of the "rapid multiplication of the 
 unfit," and the faculty of working in a sweated den or sleep- 
 ing five in a bed may in some cases be more serviceable than 
 genius. Yes, once more we have the reply, but the question 
 is not who are brightest and best, but who are fittest to 
 endure the stress of hard conditions. 
 
 Finally, then, we ask, what is the definition of " fittest " 
 in this formula? — and we find that there is no other test 
 offered than that of survival. We discover then at length 
 
 Greek thinkers as with us? The reason is two-fold. In the first 
 place there did not exist in ancient Greece a body of religious 
 doctrine which was contradicted by this theory. 
 
 Secondly, the Greeks were, with few exceptions, little inclined to 
 research, and they were inexpert in experiment. The importance of 
 the Darwinian theory is in part due to the great amount of research 
 of which it is the origin. What Darwin added to Empedocles was 
 the work of verifying this principle in numbers of actual instances 
 and tracing out some of the consequences. The fact that Darwin 
 received the suggestion from the writings of Malthus on the question 
 of over-population verifies what we have already said that any true 
 principle of Nature, once discovered, will be found to have an 
 unlimited number of applications. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 67 
 
 that this principle assures us of the survival — of those who 
 survive. 
 
 The doctrine of evolution is not entirely bound up with 
 such considerations, but before entering more definitely upon 
 that discussion, I wish to examine, in a preliminary way, 
 the credentials of certain notable naturalists who pronounce 
 upon ethics. 
 
 Thus in L'Annde Psychologique of a few years ago I 
 recollect that Binet took Haeckel to task on the ground that 
 in his attacks upon orthodoxy he often introduced observa- 
 tions taken from biological science which had nothing to do 
 with the question in hand. Then without entering the lists 
 on behalf of orthodoxy, I examined the arguments of 
 Haeckel in his treatise on Anthropogeny, and I confess that 
 I was unable either to follow his reasoning or to understand 
 finally what he meant by his Monism. 
 
 Certainly I had no bias in this case; I was rather in- 
 clined to be sympathetic, and I asked only to be instructed. 
 I was impressed by the wealth of Haeckel' s knowledge, but 
 disconcerted by the loose character of his reasoning. 
 
 To be impartial I applied the same tests to orthodox 
 works in this country, as, for example, the "Mechanism, 
 Life and Personality " of J. S. Haldane, and "The Present 
 Relations of Science and Religion," by T. G. Bonney. I 
 was sincerely grieved to find to how small a degree technical 
 science suffices to ensure clear reasoning in matters that 
 touch on psychology or religion. 
 
 The examples are being continually repeated. A man 
 who has received a bias, either towards or away from ortho- 
 doxy, applies himself to some science, whether biology or 
 geology, or even logic. He becomes learned and renowned ; 
 he is authoritative. He preaches from a chair or a pulpit. 
 If he be a natural historian of some sort he pleases us, even 
 delights and fascinates us, by the wondrous happenings of 
 organic nature. Then in a solemn tone, and without indi- 
 cating even the nexus between his science and his conclu 
 sions, he gives forth the ideas which he has imbibed at the 
 knees of his nurse. 
 
 It is experiences of this kind that have made me demand 
 from the biologist clear proofs of his conclusions. From 
 feeding tadpoles on the thyroid gland, or gazing at a 
 
68 ETHICS 
 
 Graafian follicle under the microscope, to the discussion of 
 the Immortality of the Soul is a leap. That leap may 
 possibly be taken, but I wish to see it in progress. 
 
 I have examined elsewhere the claims of the physiologists, 
 and in particular the specialists of the brain, to speak with 
 authority on questions of psychology/ In that case there 
 WAS no difficulty in refusing to accept mere assertions, for 
 the great neurologists contradicted each other abundantly. 
 We shall find a similar state of affairs in biology.* 
 
 The very term evolution, round which a battle has been 
 raging so long, has seldom been defined, apart from Herbert 
 Spencer's enunciation, and in the eighteenth century the 
 meaning attached to the term was different from that which is 
 now generally accepted. At that epoch it corresponded to 
 the notion of preformation and successive delivery of 
 organisms already determined. Nowadays it signifies 
 something in the nature of successive transformations. The 
 change of view was brought about by two theories generally 
 regarded as mutually opposed, though this is not necessarily 
 the case — that of Lamarck and that of Darwin. 
 
 liamarok and Darwin 
 
 Lamarck's theory of the change of the organism in the 
 process of adaptation to the environment dates from 1809; 
 that of Darwin's natural selection from 1859. Darwin's 
 disciples, having triumphed over their gainsayers, carried 
 their victory too far, making claims for the principle of 
 
 1 Cf. "Psychology: A New System" and the forthcoming 
 " Principles of Psychology." 
 
 2 The biologists are rather resentful of obtrusion on their domain, 
 but it is possible to waive that point, for it is in the domain of 
 psychology, of reason, that I find it particularly necessary to test 
 them. A biologist spends much time, let us say, in the delicate work 
 of artificially fecundating the ovum of a sea-urchin or in studying 
 mutations in plants. This work is technical, and the whole effort 
 is highly laudable. 
 
 But then the biologist, having ascertained certain facts, proceeds 
 to draw inferences, and by dint of these inferences he reaches im- 
 portant conclusions. We are entitled to examine his argument either 
 by testing his conclusions by facts or by observing whether the 
 reasoning is consecutive and cogent in its own form. Whether he 
 aims at stating a generalization to cover a large number of separate 
 observations, or whether, for the basis of further observations, he 
 proceeds to discover a principle, the biologist comes under the sway 
 of psychology. It is here that he is often found wanting. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 69 
 
 natural selection beyond its due, and, apart from the 
 theories of Weismann, serious objections began to arise from 
 within the ranks of the Darwinists themselves. At present 
 the set of opinion is against the whole doctrine of evolution 
 as it appeared to Darwin himself, and the forward lights are 
 affirming ix)sitions not greatly different from those of the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 Let us glance at the mode of argument. All the insects 
 in the desert are grey. ... I can remember the delight 
 with which as a boy I became acquainted with this fact, 
 charmingly expounded by a Darwinist, who made it clear 
 that the gaudy and spectacular specimens would, by being 
 conspicuous, fall victims the more readily to their enemies. 
 It seemed to me as if one of the old Olympic gods, the sage 
 Saturn, for example, had come down to earth to expound 
 to me the wonder of things and to make them simple and 
 familiar. 
 
 Then I was prepared to learn that all the animals in the 
 Arctic zone were white, and a deep contentment reigned. 
 But then, later, I came across another magnificent general- 
 ization which delighted me, that of Theodore Schwann, that 
 all organic changes were due to the presence of minute living 
 organisms. This tlieory, wonderfully fertile, which Schwann, 
 following Spallanzani, had created on the basis of very 
 simple experiments, is not quite true, for it now appears 
 that the ferment required is not the living organism itself, 
 but one of its products. 
 
 If then the colour of the hair of an animal changed in 
 the Arctic zone to white, that result was due to the action 
 of micro-organisms. We can get over a small difficulty here, 
 as by supposing that the germs are habitually present and 
 that they only require certain conditions to bring them into 
 the required activity. The conditions do not depend on the 
 prevailing whiteness as a colour; they depend on the cold. 
 But if they depend on the cold, then the result is inevitable 
 when all the conditions are present, and there is no need to 
 invoke natural selection at all. 
 
 The theory of natural selection is less simple than might 
 be thought from the example just mentioned, for it involves 
 the supposition of all sorts of variations, so as to arrange 
 for the survival of the required kind which has hitherto not 
 
70 ETHICS 
 
 been present. How do these variations arise? Darwin does 
 not even offer an hypothesis here; he accepts the fact. By 
 this process the problem is simply pushed back a step. But 
 note the further difficulty that the variation is not even 
 assumed to be sudden and complete. Now a white fox in 
 the Arctic is doubtless less conspicuous than a reddish fox, 
 but a reddish fox wearing the white plume of variation would 
 be the most conspicuous of all. Yet he would require to 
 look forward to many generations, perhaps centuries, before 
 ch.ance variations would completely blanch his robe, the more 
 especially as the variations might carry him back to his 
 original, and, by comparison, safe colour.^ 
 
 Moreover, the tendency is not for the variations to con- 
 tinue steadily in one direction. I remember a striking image 
 which the biologist Yves Delage, celebrated for his work 
 on parthenogenesis, once offered to me. He said that the 
 variation impulse mfght be likened to a ball suspended by 
 innumerable little elastic strings; it is easy to pull the ball 
 in any direction, but the more the pull is increased, the more 
 the resistance grows, until the ball is at length pulled back 
 to its original position. 
 
 These are difficulties in the way of the Darwinist, but 
 some of the disciples overcame them by the dexterous use of 
 false reasoning. It is quite common for such arguments to 
 be offered in good faith. 
 
 I find a striking instance of this where two brilliant men 
 of science arrive at the explanation of the development of 
 the colour sense by two unconnected theories. Grant Allen, 
 in "The Colour Sense, Its Origin and Development," puts 
 forward the theory that man has inherited his taste for bright 
 colours from his frugivorous ancestors, who acquired it by 
 the exercise of their sense of vision upon bright-coloured 
 foodstuffs. We may argue quite cunningly on these lines 
 if we assume that all the unknown or uncertain factors 
 operate in favour of the theory. But F. Soddy, in ** Matter 
 and Energy," points out that the greatest sensitiveness to 
 colour corresponds to those parts of the spectrum where the 
 light energy is highest. 
 
 ^ A French savant, A. Guilliermond, has studied this mode of 
 formation of pigment in the carrot, and the resuUs do not support 
 the theory of natural selection in such cases. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 71 
 
 It would be possible to build up a theory of the evolution 
 of colour-vision on this basis, but the considerants are quite 
 different from those previously invoked. 
 
 Both theories cannot be correct ; but it is not impossible, 
 on this showing- alone, that neither is. 
 
 A still more difficult puzzle for natural selection is that 
 of the concordance of two lines of development of separate 
 structures in order to produce a result of advantage to the 
 organism. 
 
 Bell shows how in the production of the voice various 
 functions must have been developed separately, £Pnd then 
 accorded. Still more remarkably, Sir Ray Lankester has 
 traced out two diverse modes of development of the organ 
 of vision which have terminated in similar results.^ 
 
 Bergson, who writes interestingly when kept in hand by 
 the discipline of positive science, has pointed out the con- 
 cordance necessary of the lines of development in the eye ; 
 one by which the outer structure is prepared to allow the 
 rays of light to pass in the appropriate way, the other by 
 which a process from the central nervous system is adapted 
 to receive the impressions conveyed.* 
 
 ^ The development of vision in molluscs and vertebrates diverged 
 long before the complete evolution of the eye, yet the processes, though' 
 by adaptation of different structures, culminated in similar results. 
 
 2 This kind of co-ordination has been in operation not only in 
 regard to what we may call the main lines of development in the 
 case cited, but also in regard to successive modifications. Sir 
 Frederick Mott notes in felidae a specialization of the fore limbs for 
 prehension of their prey which would be less effective for their 
 purpose without stereoscopic vision. [Cf. " The Progressive Evolution 
 of the Structure and Functions of the Visual Cortex in Mammalia " — 
 " Archives of Neurology.) 
 
 In the case of the chameleon the famous Spanish histologist, Ramon 
 y Cajal, has found that in the central area of the retina the cones 
 become more delicate, and each cone is connected with a separate 
 tripolar cell, and this again with a separate ganglia cell giving off 
 an optic fibre. It has been pointed out, as by Dr. Wilfrid Harris, 
 that this development is correlated with a special motor adaptation 
 which is of service in seizing prey. Monsieur Rochin-Duvigneaud, 
 summarizing the results of Ramon y Cajal's researches, remarked on 
 the inadequacy of Darwinism to explain them. • 
 
 On the other hand, Sir F, Mott and Professor Sherrington met 
 with no difficulty in solving the problem on Darwinian lines. The 
 reason of these discrepancies is to be found, as already observed, in 
 the want of definition of the principle itself. It is evident, however, 
 that no proof is forthcoming of the production of these results by the 
 
72 ETHICS 
 
 We have now reached a point where we are far from the 
 authoritative biologist, who accepts evolution as the shibbo- 
 leth of a dogma, and without proving the principle of natural 
 selection, proceeds on that base to lay down the law in ethics. 
 
 I propose, therefore, to offer a rapid review of the succes- 
 sive steps of the principle, and to inquire what service it 
 has rendered and may still render to ethics, and to see 
 whether, breaking away a little from the groove into which 
 discussions have been confined, we may get a glimpse of 
 guiding lights : 
 
 Evolution meant in the eighteenth century a process of 
 successive development of organisms by virtue of their own 
 characteristics. 
 
 Speaking of these as internal factors, and the environ- 
 ment as constituting external factors, the first step in 
 progress was to attach due weight to the working of these 
 external factors. 
 
 Lamarck, in 1809, showed how the organism became 
 
 operation of natural selection, and still less is there any explanation 
 of the mode in which *' variation " offers to natural selection in so 
 complete and appropriate a manner the required choices at the right 
 times. Remembering that at each stage until the final co-ordination 
 any failure to continue the process correctly would leave the organism 
 at a positive disadvantage, we will see the absurdity of supposing that 
 in all the individual organisms the change had been wrought out by 
 mere chance. Even on the basis of mathematical probability, the odds 
 would be infinity to unity. 
 
 If an intelligent visitor from Mars saw two tunnels driven through 
 the base of Mont Cenis so as to meet, thus allowing the construction 
 of a required railway line, he might argue that of all the tunnels which 
 blind chance had perforated in mountains, we mortals selected that 
 which came in handy for connecting France and Italy ; but even the 
 insistence on " natural selection " and the wide scope given to varia- 
 tion does not offer an explanation. On the contrary, it brings us 
 face to face with a principle better established than natural selection, 
 and that is the principle of determinism, or the principle of cause 
 and effect which eliminates chance. 
 
 As showing the perplexity of mind of Darwinists, Professor (now 
 Sir, and Ambassador at Washington) A. C. Geddes said in 1912, 
 speaking of certain theories of bone formation advanced by Ranvier 
 and Miiller, and subsequently elaborated by Retterer and Sir W. 
 Macewen : " If this idea of the osteoblast ultimately be proved correct 
 it will be necessary for us to revise almost our whole conception of the 
 causes of organic evolution, of all histories and all lineages." 
 
 This revision has since been in active progress, and some of the 
 most progressive of the workers have emitted theories that recall those 
 of the pre-Darwin days. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 73 
 
 adapted to the environment by the combined play of use and 
 disuse respectively of various functions. He over-stated his 
 case, and particularly he ascribed too rapid an action to these 
 influences. He was v^^rong- in believing that acquired 
 faculties vi^ere in large measure transmitted hereditarily. 
 
 Darwin, fifty years later, found in natural selection 
 another mode of securing variation. Alfred Russel Wallace 
 had arrived at similar conclusions by another path of 
 reasoning. 
 
 Darwin's views were rejected with violence. Bishop 
 Wilberforce said that his doctrine ran contrary to the word of 
 God. After a furious battle the followers of Darwin, with 
 Huxley at their head, triumphed, but the very ardour of the 
 strife carried their victory too far. 
 
 In describing- the process of natural selection, they 
 argued with too much facility and assumed on their side all 
 the unknown or unproved factors. 
 
 Herbert Spencer had approached the question from the 
 philosophic standpoint, and it is to him that we owe the 
 phrase ** Survival of the fittest," and the first attempt to 
 gfive a clear enunciation in scientific terms of the laws of 
 evolution. We have seen, however, that both this enuncia- 
 tion and the sacramental phrase regarding the fittest tend to 
 elude us when we endeavour to make use of them in 
 development. 
 
 Herbert Spencer did not accept the principle of natural 
 selection ; for the mode of evolution he relied on the opera- 
 tions pointed out by Lamarck. 
 
 Weismann 
 
 The next important figfure on the scene is that of 
 Welsmpnn (born 1834), the German biologist who contended 
 that acquired faculties were not transmitted. This doctrine, 
 if admitted, seemed to give a fatal blow not only to Lamarck 
 but to Darwin. 
 
 Herbert Spencer entered into the lists against Weismann, 
 but his arguments did not touch the essential. Weismann 
 spoke with a great fund of observation at his back, and it 
 is undoubted that he rendered a real service to science. If 
 only by cutting away the exuberance of loose arguments of 
 the Lamarckians and the Darwinists. 
 
74 ETHICS 
 
 Weismann's grounds were technical. He pointed out the 
 difference of the somatic tissues of the body and the germ 
 cells, and he offered proofs for the assertion that they had 
 an independent development. Weismann thus brought us 
 back to the eighteenth century position, and, tracing out the 
 consequences of his theory, he elaborated a theory of 
 development.* 
 
 Weismann had no right to assert that no mechanism 
 existed for the reciprocal influence of the somatic and genetic 
 tissues; all he was justified in saying was that he had not 
 detected any such mechanism. But the removal of the 
 generative organism in a young male influences profoundly 
 the whole development of its somatic tissues, and this 
 patent fact should have warned Weismann that some means 
 of intercommunication must exist, and that the reaction 
 should correspond. In more recent years our acquaintance 
 witJi the mechanism has become more familiar, as, for 
 example, when we recognize the influence of the ductless 
 glands. 
 
 It was evident, however, that circumspection was needed 
 in tracing out the consequences of the principles of Lamarck 
 and Darwin.' 
 
 Two biologists put forward in Darwin's day suggestions 
 that would appear of value, although not much noticed at the 
 time. Nageli and also Kolliker thought that the variations 
 demanded by evolution might be produced by some internal 
 principle. This would lessen the r61e of natural selection, 
 although the two principles are not mutually exclusive. 
 
 * This theory of Weismann was too complicated, and therefore 
 liable to suspicion. Just as the change from the Ptolemaic system to 
 that of Copernicus was from complexity to simplicity, so it will be 
 found often, if not invariably, in interpreting Nature. 
 
 * That the organism does become adapted by use to its environment 
 is proved in countless instances. It is sufficient to cite the development 
 of the muscles of the arm of the blacksmith. That acquired faculties 
 may be hereditary is also proved, for the size of the child at birth has 
 been influenced by the size of the uterus and by the pelvic arrange- 
 ments in general ; but these depend on conditions of growth that are 
 variable according to the variation of the environment, considered in 
 its totality. 
 
 But, on the other hand, a hunch-backed man or a one-armed man 
 does not produce hunch-backed or one-armed children. 
 
 It should be recalled here what was said previously about the 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 75 
 
 Then. Haeckel made a great stir by offering decisive proof 
 of the course of evolution by finding that the steps of the 
 progressive development are mirrored in the development of 
 the foetus itself. Hence he declared that evolution was the 
 sole explanation of comparative anatomy, embryogeny, and 
 of natural history generally. Ontogeny offers the repetition 
 of phylogeny, he said. Haeckel was accustomed to jump 
 to conclusions without sufficient proof, and modern biologists 
 regard his doctrine here as at least precarious. 
 
 Then came the era when questions were asked and ex- 
 j>eriments instituted as to the mode of reproduction of these 
 variations on which natural selection depended. A Danish 
 naturalist, Johannsen, made a series of observations which, 
 represented in the form of graphic curves, showed that the 
 species was stable, but that on both sides of a certain mean 
 curve fluctuations occurred, but that according to the types 
 within the species the characteristics even of these fluctua- 
 tions showed regularity. 
 
 De Yries 
 
 A French naturalist, Jordan, and later the famous Dutch 
 botanist, Hugo de Vries, carried on studies of a similar 
 character, and, particularly in one species — Oenothera 
 lamarckiana — de Vries observed variations brusque and con- 
 siderable beyond the fluctuations noted by Johannsen. These 
 he called mutations. These researches dated from about the 
 beginning of the century, and at last evolutionists thought 
 that the way had been cleared. 
 
 Mendel 
 
 In the meantime an Austrian monk, Gregor Mendel, 
 about i860, had instituted experiments on peas in order to 
 test, in simple cases, the laws of heredity. Mendel's work 
 
 perspective of science and the relatively large importance of some new- 
 discovery. Something analogous taies places in the organic world 
 with regard to acquired faculties. They are important to the in- 
 dividual, but in regard to heredity they appear as factors which are 
 extremely small when compared with the vast accumulation of experi- 
 ence, efforts and developments, which have produced the individual 
 and given stability to the type. It is like letting a drop of water fall 
 into a pond. The drop has its influence, and it causes some imme- 
 diate disturbance in its neighbourhood, but when it sinks into the 
 whole volume of the water it may escape notice altogether. 
 
76 ETHICS 
 
 was of extraordinary value, but it hardly attracted attention 
 in his lifetime. Amongst distinguished biologists he could 
 find only one reader, and his judgment was rather adverse. 
 Mendel died disconsolate, and it was found that he had 
 destroyed, or allowed to perish, researches on bees destined 
 to throw light on the problem. The essential of Mendel's 
 results is that there are certain components of the organism 
 which become transmitted hereditarily as a whole; and that 
 if these be conceived to be represented by particles of the 
 generative cells, then in heredity we can compose new com- 
 binations, somewhat as chemical compounds are formed. 
 
 Mendel was ** discovered " by Professor W. Bateson, of 
 Cambridge, or at least it was he who recognized the im- 
 portance of the Mendelian theory, and suggested a series of 
 new efforts to test and develop it. Hence there has arisen 
 great activity in this direction, particularly in England, 
 France, and the United States. 
 
 One result was rather to revise the principle of mutations, 
 for these are due to the effect of hybridization as foreseen 
 on Mendelian lines. 
 
 The general tendency of the work of Daniele Rosa in 
 Italy, of Bateson and his pupils, of Lotoy in France, and of 
 East and Castle in the United States, is to reinforce the 
 impression of the stability of species, and thus to offer a bar 
 to the development of the animal world according to the 
 evolutionist conception. 
 
 M. Caullery, of the University of Paris, who unites great 
 biological knowledge with a philosophic mind, suggests that 
 we cannot decide from a brief experience of the conditions 
 of our time that there may not have been geological epochs 
 when under other conditions "great stimulus was given to 
 variation." 
 
 Meanwhile the phenomena of degeneration and of inver- 
 sion of evolution had been studied by Dollo, Demoor and 
 Douvill6, and the effect of this work was to show the weak- 
 ness, on account of its want of clear definition, of the 
 doctrine of evolution as a developmental principle. 
 
 Le Dantec in 1908 began a series of destructive criti- 
 cisms of the doctrine of evolution. Sir Ray Lankester is the 
 only eminent biologist who maintains Darwin's theory intact. 
 Perrier occupied a position between these extremes. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 77 
 
 The Organic Formula 
 
 After this examination the peculiarly sacred quality of 
 biology in reg-ard to ethics appears to diminish, although 
 perhaps the doctrine gains in oracular character, for accord- 
 ing to the desire or the authority of the questioner it gives 
 forth different responses. 
 
 The r6Ie of natural selection is always important, but it is 
 not the chief factor in determining either individual develop- 
 nent or species. 
 
 What is it that underlies this process? 
 
 The answer : Chance, is really not a scientific answer at 
 all, for one would still inquire what produced that particular 
 kind of chance. 
 
 In the process of weaving, for example, the weft that 
 comes between the threads of the warp is "selected." But 
 what brought it between those threads ? — Chance ! The 
 absurdity of the reply would leap to the eyes. 
 
 Certainly we become baffled in our explanations, but that 
 does not prove that there are no explanations. It is only 
 very recently in the history of mankind that the explanation 
 has been given to us of occurrences which had puzzled the 
 mind of man for ages. Further, it is true that when a cer- 
 tain explanation that has held the field becomes dethroned 
 from the pride of place, the process is often not one of revo- 
 lution, but of a better definition and adjustment of function. 
 The mistake that has been made is to attach too much 
 relative importance to the new theory which becomes 
 adopted. 
 
 Another remark, not without importance, is that it is not 
 necessarily the man of technique, the specialist, who is best 
 qualified to offer a general explanation or theory. What has 
 been seen in the case of natural selection itself? The great 
 facts of biology are patent to us all, and the minutiae of the 
 laboratory occupy a smaller proportion of the whole domain 
 than what is known to the well-educated and observant man. 
 Lamarck depended mainly on such easily accessible evidence, 
 and when a specialist, as Weismann, has sought to contro- 
 vert the current theory, he has been brought to erroneous 
 conceptions by virtue of his specialism. That being so, it 
 is laudable for a psychologist to speculate on natural 
 selection, if only he bring his conceptions to the test. 
 
78 ETHICS 
 
 Some years ago, in conversation with a famous Darwinist, 
 I suggested that the solution of ithe difficulty would be found 
 in the conception of a "biological formula," or organic 
 formula, and the meaning of this I shall now explain. 
 
 I will link it on to a speculation of Bateson in his 
 presidential address to the British Association in Australia. 
 He thought that evolution could be regarded as the progres- 
 sive development of an initial complexity, which contained of 
 itself, from the beginning, all the scope, diversity and 
 varieties oifered by living creatures. 
 
 At first reading I thought that Bateson had given a more 
 extended form to what I had spoken of as a "biological 
 formula," but I find that that is not the case, and the 
 difference is vital. 
 
 I obtained the notion of a biological formula from the 
 study of mathematical figures. A formula is certainly not a 
 figure, but given an appropriate formula one may succes- 
 sively work out the whole figure as a sort of development of 
 what is expressed in principle already in the formula. 
 
 If from mathematics we come to mechanics we find that 
 given certain initial data — ^the components of a system, the 
 mutual relation of parts, the velocity of projection, and so 
 forth — we can determine the movements of the system. Here 
 we introduce something apart from the figure ; we must take 
 into account the effect of gravitation and the resistance of 
 the air. 
 
 What is analogous to this in the biological world appears 
 to me what Bateson has missed. 
 
 Given a living system — an organic formula — its actions 
 are determined in part by its component and the internal 
 forces; but we must take into account also its action on the 
 external world, and the consequent reaction of that world 
 upon itself. Thus the internal forces and dispositions of the 
 organism become changed, and those again react in a new 
 manner upon the environment; and this play of mutual action 
 and reaction is incessant and so bound up with the life of 
 the organism that changes are necessarily progressive ; 
 although the changes may be of such a character as gradually 
 to have incorporated into the organisms new components, or 
 possibly to have changed it so that none of the original 
 constitution be left at all. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 79 
 
 This conception is different from that of the eighteenth- 
 century doctrine of evolution or from Bateson's, and it intro- 
 duced factors which, once admitted, are seen to be essential.^ 
 
 Closely bound up with this is another observation. 
 
 The tendency in speaking of transformism, whether by 
 Lamarck's or Darwin's principles, is to regard the environ- 
 ment as the sum of given external forces, and to conceive of 
 these moulding the organism in adaptation. That is not a 
 true conception. To express the matter by a metaphor the 
 environment is not to be typified by a drill-sergeant directing 
 the steps of ithe organism ; it partakes also of the character 
 of a commissariat officer under the orders of the organism. 
 
 The environment is modified by the organism, which exer- 
 cises upon its components also a natural selection. Certainly 
 the total force of external nature cannot be changed, but 
 that which impinges on the organism, and especially that 
 which is admitted to reaction upon the vital functions of the 
 organism, can be changed. Civilized man can change the 
 environment by building himself a dwelling-house and by 
 laying up stores of provisions. But also, to give simple 
 examples, the animal that closes its mouth against the 
 entrance of certain foods, or the animal that escapes from a 
 noxious gas, or for other reasons seeks a pure and rarefied 
 air in the heights, changes its environments. A child which 
 has been born blind and which afterwards acquires vision, 
 changes its environment, and finds its brain, and hence its 
 whole mental and physical constitution, modified by the new 
 set of circumstances brought in by that changed environment. 
 
 Galen of old said: "Take three eggs, one of an eagle, 
 another of a goose, and a third of a viper. . . . The eagle 
 will soar to the higher regions of the air, the goose will 
 betake itself to the marshy pool, and the viper will bury 
 itself in the ground." 
 
 Here, evidently, the old and too rigid conception of modi- 
 fication by the environment is not sufficient ; and here it will 
 be evident that something new has been imported by the 
 conception of the "organic formula," which in its elucida- 
 
 ^ Since writing the above I have read " L'E volution de I'Energie 
 Psychique " of Danysz, and therein, though expressed in another 
 manner, I have found the nearest approach to what I have indicated 
 above. 
 
8o ETHICS 
 
 tion produces or affords the means of growth of the organism 
 in constant contact with the environment, which it modifies 
 or adapts, and so by successive progress produces the full 
 development of that organism. 
 
 I will return at a later stage to this suggestion and link it 
 to that of Purpose/ 
 
 False Ethioal Deductions from Biologioal Data 
 
 The study of biology is impK>rtant in itself, not only in 
 respect of of>ening an avenue to the study of a side of nature, 
 of which we should endeavour to attain a clear view through 
 the medium of all the sciences; the interest of biology is 
 enhanced also by the manner in which it impinges on con- 
 troversial subjects round which have been woven the affec- 
 tions, the prejudices, and to some extent the institutions of 
 men. 
 
 But biology is also of importance from the fact that 
 various corollaries which have been falsely derived from its 
 teachings have played a part in investing bad governments 
 and wicked systems with an air of righteousness derived from 
 the authority of science. 
 
 Such phrases as the *' struggle for life," the " survival of 
 the fittest,*" wrongly interpreted and mistakenly applied, 
 have led men, not deficient in education, to the worship of 
 brute force, to the admiration of reactionary forms of govern- 
 ment, and to the cult of the so-called "strong man," with 
 here an additional touch, derived from Carlyle's senti- 
 mentality, of the ''strong, silent man." 
 
 The mind of the reader will at once fly to the great 
 European War for examples, and also for the condemnation 
 of that conception of humanity that makes strength reside 
 not in great intellect serving noble aspirations, but in a 
 stockish disregard for every interest except that of self, and 
 a brutal overbearing of all that might stand in the way of a 
 personal or national aggrandizement exemplified in the show 
 of material things. 
 
 There is no warrant in nature for the cult of this type 
 
 * The suggestion of the organic formula and the purposive selection 
 of the desired components of the environment appeared in a brochure 
 "Purpose and Evolution" {1913), originally read to the Aristotelian 
 Society. 
 
CONTRIBUTION OF BIOLOGY 8i 
 
 of humanity, which, indeed, has been foisted upon us con- 
 trary both to our instincts and our reason by certain types 
 of literary neurotics. The type is found not only in 
 Germany, with its Treitschke or Bernhardi, but in equal 
 representation in most of the civilized countries of to-day. 
 
 Cailyle exhibited it in full development in his "Frederick 
 the Great," where amidst a servile handling of the petty 
 doing's and the gossip of the Court he makes a hero of that 
 glorified sergeant-major who was Frederick's father. 
 
 In this country, too, we have paid for the worship of the 
 "strong, silent man " by the blood of hundreds of thousands 
 of brave soldiers, and the squandering of enormous treasures 
 of energy as well as gold. 
 
 With the type usually held up to admiration by our 
 decadent writers, strength, at least in its higher aspect, is 
 not in evidence. As soon as we rise above the state of affairs 
 where mere brutal force is sufficient to direct a community, 
 and that is only in a very rudimentary condition even of 
 savagery, we find that the faculties that best serve to 
 command are derived from intelligence and will-power. 
 Will-power is not in itself a sort of grim entity which an 
 individual possesses as he possesses a sovereign or a 
 sword ; it is a quality that varies even with the individual 
 according to circumstances, and it is capable of great 
 development. 
 
 Knowledge and intelligence illuminating the way ahead 
 are factors which give assurance to the will. The further 
 we carry our analysis the more shall we be convinced that 
 even for the exercise of authority and that "strength," for 
 which weak natures so insistently cry, there is need of these 
 subtle and delicate essences that tell rather of the spiritual 
 nature of men ; thought, reflection, delicate speculation, 
 imagination, and all that is implied in the training of the 
 higher faculties of the mind. 
 
 Certainly, I grant, that in our present experience, and 
 throughout the course of history, we often find men in high 
 places, men whose will can do much for the happiness but 
 generally for the unhappiness of humanity, men who have 
 been deficient both in intellect and ideal ; but these are only 
 instances among the innumerable records of human error, 
 and it is part of the fruit of a good ethical system that the 
 G 
 
82 ETHICS 
 
 moral wrong-ness, as well as the material danger of such 
 regimes, should be clearly exposed. 
 
 Even in our immediate familiar human affairs, if we 
 examine the motives that instil heroism into the mind and 
 render men capable of deeds of glory, we find the inner spring 
 not in brutal arrogance nor bestial appetite, but in tender 
 recollections, the first affections of the human being that 
 cling round the figures of father and mother and intertwine 
 with the api>ealing associations of home. 
 
 The songs ithat endure and that form bonds of endearing 
 recollections, hopes, and resources, are those of gentle 
 thoughts and wistful yearnings. Even with the ancients, 
 Homer, the old blind poet, who paints a series of lively 
 pictures where even physical strength told heavily in the 
 triumph of his heroes — seeks the stimulus, the lure, the 
 dazzling ideal, not in the forms of brutal force but in the 
 witching beauty of a woman. 
 
 I cease this line of argument for the moment. The 
 allusion has indeed been made only incidentally on account of 
 the magnitude of the disasters and the follies which have 
 followed the style of philosophizing derived not from the 
 principles of evolution, but from a misinterpretation of 
 Darwin's phrases. 
 
 Later, in another form of development, we shall find the 
 questions arise that touch on the ideals set up before men's 
 eyes, and that strange far-off intimation of order in the world 
 and a goal which we may cover by the word : Purpose. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 Ethics as a Science 
 
 In the whole history of Ethics we find few attempts at a 
 
 veritable scientific system, and those few are all faulty. 
 Finally, in an excellent little work, ** De la Methode dans les 
 Sciences/' M. L. L^vy-Bruhl, who deals with the subject of 
 ** Morale," raises a finer issue. He advises the abandonment 
 of theoretical ethics as generally conceived. His riemarks 
 here are interesting*, and therefore I give a brief indication 
 of his views, so as afterwards to render my own intention 
 m.ore precise. 
 
 M. L6vy-Bruhl says that "moral facts " may be regarded 
 from the outside, objectively, and treated on the analogy of 
 other sciences which deal with physical phenomena. On the 
 other hand, he says, as they become manifested subjectively, 
 in the conscience, under the forms of duties, remorse, senti- 
 ments of merit or demerit, blame, praise, etc., they appear 
 in quite other characters. 
 
 Hitherto it has been usual to treat of them in this guise, 
 and the other conception, of a field of objective studies, runs 
 counter to our habitual manner of thought. 
 
 The distinction is brought out into clearer relief when 
 we reflect that in other sciences the separation is easy 
 between theoretical studies and practical applications. For 
 example, the anatomist or the physiologist studies certain 
 facts and relations simply to ascertain their manner of being ; 
 but to institute muscular exercises, or to modify the con- 
 dition of supplying nutriment to the body, would be easily 
 seen to come into another order of things. In the domain of 
 ethics, however, the facts are taken as given, and the whole 
 attention is devoted to the direction of actions according to 
 the circumstances. It requires special attention and long 
 reflection to conceive that the proper object of study is the 
 domain itself of customs and laws. 
 
 83 
 
84 ETHICS 
 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl replies to those who say that the distinc- 
 tion is already well founded between theory and practice in 
 ethics, the theory dealing- with the principles of conduct, 
 and the practice dealing- with the application of these 
 principles to certain cases. 
 
 But this distinction does not descend so deeply as he 
 demands. He examines the nature of the theory of ethics, 
 and he finds that it deals only with problems having imme- 
 diate relation to action. This might be summed up by the 
 task of obtaining what Lotze called "Judgments of values." 
 
 That, however, does not correspond to the theories of 
 other sciences, and the difference is particularly shown in the 
 fact that the theory of ethics tends to be "legislative." 
 Wundt, the famous German psychologist, proposed on this 
 account to place ethics in the category of "normative 
 sciences." The phrase is meant to imply the legislative 
 character to which we have referred. 
 
 M. L6vy-Bruhl questions whether one can consistently 
 speak of normative sciences, if the meaning of science be 
 the study of phenomena or moral incidents. Certainly in 
 the exact sciences there is a disadvantage in confusing the 
 applications which might arise from the principles of the 
 science and the theoretical establishment of these principles. 
 For example, the theoretical science of mechanics has placed 
 us in possession of certain laws which explain the manner 
 of flight of projectiles ; in the practical application one may 
 make use of this knowledge in order to devise a gun destined 
 to carry a shell a certain distance, and one could calculate 
 amongst other facts the angle of elevation necessary for the 
 effective firing of the shot. 
 
 In other sciences where the purely scientific basis has 
 taken longer to establish, as in medicine, the theory and the 
 practice may have been less distinct, but as our command of 
 the scientific part becomes greater, the distinctive line also 
 becomes more apparent. 
 
 But M. L6vy-Bruhl observes that this is not the manner 
 in which teachers of ethics represent their subject ; they make 
 it a normative science on its theoretical side, "legislative 
 in its quality as science." He rejects this claim, and says 
 that when ethics seeks in this fashion to be normative it 
 ceases to be a theoretic science. 
 
ETHICS AS A SCIENCE 85 
 
 The French philosopher affirms, therefore, that theoretical 
 morals and practical morals differ only in the degree of 
 abstraction, of generality, and sytematization. But while 
 the priactical morality is "homogeneous," and concerns 
 itself with concrete questions, the theoretical morality 
 has introduced a number of factors of diverse origin 
 more or less associated with what is properly moral. Such 
 factors are metaphysical considerations on the origin and 
 destiny of man, psychological researches into the nature 
 and relative force of natural inclinations, juridical con- 
 ceptions regarding relative rights, and so forth. 
 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl observes, correctly I think, that the 
 elements just cited, while lending to ethics the aspect of a 
 scientific theory, really only give the appearance of science. 
 There is no real connexion between principle and applica- 
 tion, but a kind of relation very complex and obscure which 
 cannot itself be explained without the help of a special 
 analysis. 
 
 He concludes, therefore, that there does not exist a 
 theoretical science of ethics in the strict sense, but he affirms 
 that a theoretical science is necessary, and that the destruc- 
 tion of the usual conception of a normative science aids the 
 proper view. The proj>er study is found in the domain of 
 moral laws, obligations, rights, and in general the "content " 
 of the conscience ; these should be considered as a field of 
 facts which should be investigated in the same spirit and by 
 the same method as other social facts. 
 
 M. L6vy-Bruhl points out the objections that arise to 
 this view of an objective character of moral facts, such 
 objections being related in part to the old metaphysical 
 disputes about free will and the like, but he observes that 
 the more our knowledge increases the wider becomes our 
 conception of "nature." 
 
 Proceeding with his theme, the author brings up another 
 objection, viz. that while in physical nature the laws remain 
 constant, independent of man's existence, in the moral world 
 the facts themselves — manners, customs, religions, lan- 
 guages, arts — are the product of his activity. He replies 
 that the course of development of other sciences, even 
 mechanical sciences, encourages us to take the view of 
 moral facts as offering problems to be considered objectively, 
 
86 ETHICS 
 
 and that we must accustom ourselves so to regard the 
 question. 
 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl would therefore restrict the science of 
 ethics to the consideration of the facts and the relations that 
 bind them, so that the student should have no ulterior aim 
 beyond the acquisition of this knowledge. Only after a 
 certain time when the state of advancement of the science 
 allows it should we formulate the manner by which for certain 
 purposes we can manipulate the phenomena. 
 
 He questions then why, these matters being fairly clear 
 when thus exposed, the moral world has not been explored 
 objectively in the same manner as the other domains of 
 science, and he finds the answer in the powerful social in- 
 terests which become affected by the promulgation of truth. 
 The scientific attitude is a critical attitude ; accordingly when 
 science deals with religion it has the air, though not neces- 
 sarily so, of being irreligious, and that is true also with 
 regard to institutions and laws. 
 
 M. L6vy-Bruhl remarks that the moral facts exist already, 
 no matter what may be the attitude of approval and dis- 
 approval of the philosopher, and he quotes, apparently with 
 approval, the saying of Hegel in his "Doctrine of the Right," 
 who, replying with irony to those who would reconstruct the 
 State, explained that the State exists, the State is *' given," 
 and that therefore it is the duty of philosophers to study it 
 as it stands. This saying he would apply to the moral world. 
 
 I have followed the arguments of M, L6vy-Bruhl in some 
 detail because in part I adopt them, although, on the other 
 hand, there are passages where I am in disaccord. It is 
 unusual, but it is agreeable, to find an academic authority 
 declaring that the great bulk of the speculations, references 
 to psychological research or to religious beliefs, by which 
 some support appears to be given, as if of a scientific dis- 
 cussion of ethics, really do not bear at all on the conclusions. 
 In other places, and in other forms, I have insisted on this 
 aspect of the matter in regard to the pretensions of the 
 physiologists to speak, because of their special knowledge, 
 with authority on psychology, or of the biologists to pontifi- 
 cate in matters of ethics. I do not admit their arguments 
 when they are not cogent ; conversely I do not refuse light 
 from any science if there be established a sure nexus between 
 
ETHICS AS A SCIENCE 87 
 
 the data of the science and the conclusion offered in the 
 application to ethics. 
 
 The mere statement, which does not in itself seem re- 
 markable, that even in the discussion of ethics the arguments 
 used should be valid, disposes of a great many moral 
 structures; and since we have already examined on the 
 psychological side the systems of Kant and Hegel, and have 
 noted the manner of their exposition in ethics, these remarks 
 apply with full force to them. 
 
 But apart from this we may join issue with Hegel even 
 on the one ground on which M. L6vy-Bruhl cites him. 
 Hegel twits the reformers pleasantly, although no one who 
 has studied his writings would imagine wit to be his strong 
 point. The State is given, he says; we must erect our 
 ethical forms within that system. 
 
 Now it may have been difficult for Hegel, immersed in 
 the full glory and surrounded by the power of the Hohen- 
 zoUern regime, to project his mind forward a hundred years 
 and foresee the irretrievable ruin of that edifice after the 
 most disastrous war in history ; but Hegel had only to 
 reflect, however cursorily if with due freedom of mind, on 
 the course of human events to become convinced that so far 
 from the State being given, as a condition of nature, the 
 State is subject to continual changes, and amongst the potent 
 causes which operate in the changes will be found the in- 
 fluence of ethical principles. Hegel's own system does not 
 fulfil the conditions that M. L^vy-Bruhl demands, for it is 
 neither objective in its view, nor scientific in its manner of 
 exposition, nor true in regard to its conclusions. 
 
 Yet even Hegel's ethics, by dint of furnishing some 
 philosophic sanction to false procedure, have had considerable 
 effect on the character of the State. 
 
 Bxamination of li^vy-Bruhrs Arguments 
 
 Let us now, however, look a little more closely into M. 
 L^vy-Bruhl's arguments. He would separate ethical thought 
 from the "legislative" side of its activities, and form a 
 science which would concern itself with the investigation of 
 all the origins and appearances of ethical sentiments, laws, 
 customs, institutions. It may take centuries, he thinks, to 
 place such a science on a proper basis so that from its well- 
 
88 ETHICS 
 
 ascertained doctrine application might be made to practical 
 life. 
 
 The analogy does not hold here with the development of 
 the positive sciences, for though it may have been possible 
 to have investigated the laws of physics and of chemistry 
 without reference to practical applications, yet step by step 
 the need of such applications has proved a spur to research. 
 Certainly a higher stage of intellectuality is shown when 
 the mind finds its chief reward and stimulus in the new 
 visions of the world and its meaning which are opened up 
 by some far-reaching discovery in the realm of science; but 
 it makes one almost tremble to think of a race of superior 
 beings charting down facts and laws and tracing out the 
 consequences in complete unconcern of human sentiments 
 and endeavours for a thousand years, and then offering the 
 plan of reconstruction to whatever State may be "given " 
 at the moment of the revelation. 
 
 This Buddhistic mode of contemplation would admirably 
 suit the monarchical systems where the great thinkers would 
 possess the double merit of adding lustre to the regime 
 without embarrassing the Government.^ 
 
 My own conception of a thinker is rather that of the 
 pioneer of a great movement who explores the paths ahead 
 and, standing on an eminence, guides the caravan to new 
 possessions ; all these metaphors being regarded in a 
 spiritual significance. 
 
 But again to come to terms with M. L6vy-Bruhl — the 
 suggestion may lurk in the mind of the reader that here I 
 am invoking that intangible sort of prejudice associated with 
 our aspirations for spiritual content, and that to attain this 
 I am rather evading the clear issue as to the truth of the 
 matter. Nothing is further from my intention ; I am pre- 
 pared to follow principles based on truth whithersoever they 
 may lead, and even though this may be to a desirable goal ! 
 
 But now to test the reality of M. L^vy-Bruhl's scientific 
 conceptions. He makes use of an analogy to explain his 
 position. 
 
 "Just as in regard to almost the entire reality of things 
 
 ^ Hence in Prussia we find public memorials where Kant and Hegel 
 are worn like decorations of the hem of the Hohenzollern garment. 
 
ETHICS AS A SCIENCE 89 
 
 we have two representations perfectly distinct, one sensile ^ 
 and subjective, the other conceptual and objective ; just as 
 the world of sounds and colours is also the field of physical 
 science ; just as finally we are accustomed to represent as 
 vibrations of ether that which we experience subjectively as 
 heat and light, while neither of these representations ex- 
 cludes or remains in opposition to the other; so we can 
 possess at the same time two representations of the reality 
 in the moral world, one subjective, the other objective. We 
 can, on the one side, undergo the action of the social reality 
 in which we are plunged, and feel it becoming realized in 
 our own conscience ; and, on the other side, recognize in that 
 reality conceived objectively those constant relations which 
 constitute its laws." 
 
 Again, with the general intention here explained I am 
 in accord, though I think there is a deep error in the manner 
 of expressing it, and as our exposition rests on fine judg- 
 ments we may be well advised to look into this matter 
 closely.* 
 
 I say that it is not the case that in a certain mode of 
 vibration of ether we have the objective representation of 
 what subjectively we conceive as a certain colour; the two 
 notions must be held distinct if we are to avoid confusion. 
 
 This may be made clear by regarding the whole process 
 objectively. Imagine a form of vibration of the ether of 
 over seven hundred thousand millions per second. This 
 corresponds to the violet colour, but it is far from being an 
 objective representation of that colour. 
 
 Before the colour sensation becomes a reality a vast 
 number of processes, all of them complex and mysterious, 
 must follow in due order. The vibrations of ether must 
 impinge upon the retina and affect the delicate organs of 
 the rods and cones, and produce some kind of disturbance 
 which is transmitted through a long course of nerve sub- 
 stance, and which at length reaches certain ganglia of the 
 
 ^ The word here translated is "sensible," but there is in English 
 no unambiguous term corresponding ; I have therefore, as in " Prin- 
 ciples of Psychology," used the word " sensile." 
 
 ^ This question forms the object of a searching scrutiny in 
 "Principles of Psychology," 
 
90 ETHICS 
 
 brain which again undergo some influences in association 
 which are in turn transmitted to other nerve fibres so as to 
 interest directly, or indirectly as by inhibition, the whole of 
 the brain fibres. Under certain conditions a sensation of 
 violet results, but without elaborating the marvellous in- 
 tricacy of the processes involved in the nerves it will be 
 seen that the vibrations of the ether form but one factor of 
 a complex association of essentials. 
 
 If the vibrations of the ether had reached a photographic 
 plate, we would have had, after a series of delicate chemical 
 processes, a certain effect which again would serve to 
 produce finally in our minds the associated sensations of a 
 photograph. 
 
 If the vibrations came in contact with a mixture of 
 hydrogen and chlorine under certain conditions, an explosion 
 would be produced, and hydrochlorine acid would be formed. 
 
 These modes of analysis are certainly not idle ; they define 
 the r61e of the vibrations and enable us to understand certain 
 subjective impressions that arise without the immediate 
 stimulus of any vibrations at all. The sensation of colour 
 is not represented either by the vibrations of ether, or by 
 any part of the nervous excitation or disposition, or by the 
 whole of these processes combined ; it is something distinct, 
 immediate and real in itself ; all we can say is that a certain 
 physical disposition, referring mainly to excitation of nerve- 
 tissues in the brain, is the physical correlative of the 
 sensation. 
 
 Now our sentiments, moral affections, sense of right and 
 wrong, our desires and all that make the field of considera- 
 tion in emotional states of mind, are real in themselves, and 
 the causes that produce them are not their objective repre- 
 sentations. Still less true is it to say of any one necessary 
 antecedent that it is the objective representation of any 
 sentiment. We must keep these distinctions clearly in mind. 
 
 It is quite legitimate, of course, and laudable to seek the 
 whole system of the objective antecedents, or causes ; but 
 whereas in physical science we come at once to matters of 
 extreme complexity so that it is impossible for us, in our 
 present state of knowledge, to form anything but vague 
 guesses as to the nature of the processes at work ; so much 
 the more difficult would it be in ethical science to trace out 
 
ETHICS AS A SCIENCE 91 
 
 from the foundation of our knowledge of the world the 
 processes that produce moral sentiments. 
 
 Considerations of this kind show that the directions of 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl are really counsels of perfection.^ 
 
 Yet it behoves us to place the science of ethics in its 
 relation to other sciences. To help difficult conceptions 
 by an illustration, it could be likened to the science of 
 meteorology, which thougfh somewhat ill-defined as a science 
 in itself seizes upon the methods and assimilates the results 
 obtained in a great number of sciences which have been 
 artificially marked off for special study. The winds, for 
 example, are produced partly by the influence of varying heat 
 upon the atmosphere; but these effects are involved with 
 those of the various motions of the earth, such as are 
 studied in astronomy, and by the configuration of the earth 
 as geology reveals it to us, by the distribution of solids and 
 liquids accordingly, and also by various matters of elasticity 
 of gases, of weight of gases, of the influence of moisture, 
 and of the various other factors that involve chemistry and 
 physics. 
 
 Turning now to ethics : I need not insist on the import- 
 ance of psychology, since, indeed, my own exposition of 
 psychology received its suggestion in the course of the study 
 of ethical problems; the science of biology bears upon that 
 of ethics, as has been abundantly shown by the brief 
 references given in this book; and since man's struggle to 
 live is eventually concerned with the forces of nature, his 
 position is rendered clearer by a knowledge of natural laws ; 
 therefore finally the whole world of sciences, mental, biolo- 
 gical and physical, are concerned in the study of questions 
 of conduct, and every advance in these matters helps us to 
 a clearer understanding of ethics. 
 
 Here we come again to the old difficulty of the extreme 
 complexity of the subject. But without waiting for the full 
 development of subsidiary sciences it is possible at times 
 to state certain principles in physics, in psychology, and 
 finally in ethics. 
 
 ^ It should be expressly noted here, what the subsequent exposition 
 makes clear, that this point is not in contradiction with my own 
 expressed determination to find for ethics a scientific base in the 
 constitution of the universe itself. 
 
92 ETHICS 
 
 To take an example from the physical world : If we have 
 a known projectile, such as a cannon ball, with a known 
 velocity of gyration, know translational velocity, and direc- 
 tion of flight, we can calculate its trajectory without knowing 
 the extraordinary, complex changes involved in the explosion 
 of the powder that gave the initial impulse. Again, in the 
 case already noted of a girder bridge under strain, we know 
 that if it rests on two supports half the weight comes on 
 each; and this result is more certain than anything we 
 should arrive at by the endeavour to calculate the whole 
 system of molecular strain throughout the structure. 
 
 In accordance with this view we could deal with sensa- 
 tions of colours, and we could elaborate a definite branch of 
 science, furnished with quantitative data, if we know no 
 more of the objective side than that vibrations of a certain 
 kind strike upon the retina, and thence send stimuli through 
 the nerves of the brain. The subsequent elaboration by 
 which we could fill in the gaps of this sketchy description 
 would be of great interest in itself, and would constitute a 
 valuable chapter of physical science, but it would add nothing 
 to our conception of the psychic facts. 
 
 Similarly, in regard to ethics, we shall find it possible 
 to arrive at certain data without the necessity of tracing the 
 dependence in all its complexity and myriad details of that 
 data on the constitution of the universe from which ultimately 
 they derive. 
 
 It will not always be necessary to investigate the origins 
 of sentiments, or of customs and institutions, or to explore 
 the whole field of sociology in order to obtain a sure footing 
 in ethics, although again every advance of knowledge in any 
 of the particular factors aids us to a more complete under- 
 standing of the total problem. 
 
 This then is in part my answer to M. L^vy-Bruhl's de- 
 mand for a thousand years of preliminary research before 
 entering upon the practical domain of ethics. 
 
 I will now deal with his objection to the "normative " or 
 legislative aspect of ethics viewed as a science. The analogy 
 with the physical sciences is far from complete, as he him- 
 self observes. The physical universe is "given," the State 
 is not given, not even Hegel's Hohenzollern regime, nor 
 are human emotions, passions, degrees of educations, 
 
ETHICS AS A SCIENCE 93 
 
 aspirations and ideals. These are modifiable; these are 
 becoming constantly modified. 
 
 It is, therefore, quite competent to inquire, and to seek 
 the answer in a scientific manner, as to what forms of variation 
 are capable of most vigorous development, or at what degree 
 of variation a function, or an institution, ceases to be viable. 
 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl has, I think, been a little over-influenced 
 by the contemplation of those physical sciences, as, for in- 
 stance, mechanics, where a great gap is found between the 
 abstract principle and what may be called useful applications. 
 In these cases the gap must sometimes be filled up by a new 
 kind of exercise of the intellect, as in the case of invention. 
 Here an analogy would be found in the field of ethics, in the 
 devising of institutions, modes of government, laws, and the 
 like, whose establishment would secure certain desired ends. 
 
 But in positive science there are also cases where the 
 application presents so little difficulty that it follows almost 
 immediately from the clear understanding of the conditions. 
 Thus suppose the problem were to determine what kind of 
 fertilizers would assist the growth of corn, the question 
 could be dealt with in a manner quite scientific and with no 
 misleading obtrusion of the useful aspect of the application, 
 just as if we had before us an exercise in chemistry; then 
 would come the useful application. It is in this manner that 
 I can conceive of ethics as a science. 
 
 Or, again, in meteorology, the science with which we 
 have compared ethics, we could in the most approved 
 scientific manner investigate the causes of rainfalls, or of 
 winds, and we might determine whether in a certain locality 
 rain was likely to be abundant or to be lacking, and we might 
 in the way of application of our knowledge proceed to certain 
 obvious arrangements. 
 
 Even in invention, the processes that are purely scientific 
 become interwoven almost inextricably at limes with those 
 that are tentative and are matters of adaptation, for these 
 adaptations must be contained within the limits set by the 
 scientific data. Thus, when Watt was inventing his steam 
 engine, he was helped by the purely scientific observation of 
 the manner in which water behaved at a temperature of 
 212° Fahr., and by observations of the law according to 
 which the pressure of steam increased with the temperature. 
 
94 ETHICS 
 
 The possibility of the transformation of longitudinal 
 motion into circular motion might have been taken as a pre- 
 liminary scientific problem. This would at once assure Watt 
 of the practicability of his system as soon as the movement 
 of a piston was obtained. Thus, finally, the invention be- 
 comes fined down to that of the devising of the best form 
 of valve to allow the due entrance and escape of steam. ^ 
 
 Analogously, we shall find it possible to lay down certain 
 determinants, or standards, which will gu'de us in estimating 
 the value of moral or ethical principles, and it will be the 
 task of the subsequent section of this work to give an 
 exposition of the matter. 
 
 To sum up then the results of our discussion founded on 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl's essay : (i) The principles of ethics rest in 
 the constitution of the universe itself. It is not, however, 
 necessary to make a preliminary investigation of the whole 
 intricate mass included in this field. This may be left to 
 the separate sciences, mental, biological, and mechanical. 
 Every advance in these is helpful. (2) But just as, though all 
 the sciences are correlated, we can mark off a branch, so, 
 although ethics touches upon all the sciences, we can 
 sufficiently separate it as a domain susceptible of being treated 
 scientifically. The science here considered is not liable to 
 the objection of M. L6vy-Bruhl that because it is "norma- 
 tive " it ceases to be a science. The applications that will 
 be kept in view may be taken for granted as presenting no 
 new insuperable difficulty. (3) The particular applications, 
 such as correspond to the various adaptations and inventions 
 that flow from physical science, will in ethics be found in 
 various institutions, laws, and modes of society. 
 
 The present work is chiefly concerned with those features 
 included under division (2). In order to exemplify these, 
 there will be a brief indication of the manner of employing 
 the principles which will come under division (3). 
 
 The main object of the work, however, will be to show 
 certain lines of division, going- deep down to the basis of 
 things, within which the development of ethics must take 
 place. 
 
 * The invention of the Diesel engine followed still more closely and 
 deliberately the scientific data of thermodynamics, of which the basis 
 was laid by Carnot's theoretical heat engine. 
 
Part II 
 
 STANDARDS, DIRECTIVES, AND CRITERIA OF 
 DEVELOt^MENT IN ETHICS 
 
 The object now is to ascertain the main lines of structure of 
 a true system, and of principles of development. The" tripod 
 of Ethics " consists of Truth, Energy, Sympathy. The prin- 
 ciple of Truth points the way to Science ; that of Energy leads 
 to an analysis of the conditions of efficiency ; that of Sympathy, 
 to co-operation, to justice, and to expression by various institu- 
 tions, or otherwise, of the interdependence of society. 
 
 An examination of biological data helps us to form criteria 
 of the degree of development. 
 
 We thus enter into possession of the main lines , the principal 
 development and the directives of the system. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 Search for the Foundation of Ethics 
 
 When we depart from authority, and from the common- 
 places of received traditions and seek in the constitution of 
 the world itself for our ethical guides, we have the sense of 
 greater freedom, and the hope of ultimately reacliingf greater 
 certainties than those we have discarded ; but with it all comes 
 at first the sense of a blank disappointment, not unmingled 
 with vague terror, as Pascal expressed it, of the silence of in- 
 finite spaces ; and when summoning resolution to the point of 
 an undaunted outlook in this cosmos, we find there a feeling of 
 bewilderment, of a despairing and almost futile regard in the 
 immense complexity and extreme elusiveness of the problem. 
 That certainly is not a good reason for abandoning the 
 expedition in dismay, and flying in a chastened mood, willing 
 to accept any terms, to the camps of orthodox nonsense. 
 
 Even if sincerely we charted down the motives, incentives, 
 and impulses that resulted in any particular effort to strike 
 out in our moral world we should be taking a step, however 
 small, to the elucidation of the mystery, and the results of 
 such an analysis would be of value, particularly if we re- 
 frained from proceeding on the basis of individual experience 
 to unwarranted generalizations. 
 
 By such means, however, we could never make great 
 headway because the particular cases are too numerous and 
 too complex. Besides, this kind of analysis would soon be 
 seen to imply a certain degree of fineness and certitude of 
 psychological knowledge ; and it would be necessary to enter 
 into deep explorations in that domain. 
 
 That has really been the route, summarily indicated, which 
 my mind has pursued in regard to the present work. At a 
 certain moment after seeing the nature of the problem 
 vaguely outlined, I turned to the question of psychology, 
 which seemed to bear upon the subject. 
 H 97 
 
98 ETHICS 
 
 Then after some preliminary study, followed by the 
 definite rejection in this domain also of a great mass of 
 learning- which had been accepted as authoritative, from 
 Aristotle to Kant and onward, I was brought face to face 
 there with a world of fascination, but of so vast, com- 
 plex, and intangible a character that anything but tentative 
 treatment seemed hopeless. 
 
 Through it all, however, was a sort of certitude of 
 intuition that in this apparently endless confusion I could 
 find sure standards, but that I must begin by casting aside 
 prepossessions, and by approaching the whole question in a 
 new manner and by finding new guides. 
 
 What I sought for was some means of arriving in this 
 psychological domain at something corresponding to the 
 chemical elements in the physical world; that is to the dis- 
 covery of these elementary, or, as I have since called them. 
 Fundamental Processes of the mind, by the combinations of 
 which the whole world of thought could be built up. 
 
 When once the problem was set forth in that way it 
 became evident that its solution would furnish the basis for 
 a true scientific development of psychology ; but ithe extreme 
 difficulty of the problem might well have acted as a deterrent. 
 Here also I found that particular and partial analyses, how- 
 ever interesting in themselves, would never lead to a complete 
 solution of the general problem ; therefore I was forced to 
 seek deliberately for new methods. 
 
 The complete solution, and the exposition of the argu- 
 ments, form, the substance of "Psychology: A New 
 System," and "Principles of Psychology "; but as frequent 
 reference is made in this work to results there expressed, and 
 as I have had ever in my mind the psychological foundation 
 on which this system of ethics rests, it seems advisable to 
 indicate in the main lines the method of that work. The 
 condensed account that follows requires the most careful 
 attention. 
 
 In considering any complex of sensations, for example, or 
 any sequence of sensations, it is possible to make abstraction 
 of the actual quality of the sensations and to consider an 
 underlying "schema," which has to the original complex a 
 relation analogous to that of the web of a carpet to the 
 actual carpet with its coloured pattern. Thus, for instance, 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS 99 
 
 if I direct my eyes to a succession of coloured discs the 
 actual operation of direction will not be varied when the 
 colour of the disc varies from, say, red to green. 
 
 From this simple example it may be understood that 
 throughout the whole world of thought we may separate the 
 **sensile " forms (coloured or graphic) from the underlying 
 schematic forms. 
 
 This conception of the schema will help us remarkably 
 in attaining rigour in our reasoning in the field of psycho- 
 logy, for apart from the schematic form we may now 
 consider the sources from which we derived the sensile forms. 
 We may divide these into two main classes ; those that come 
 to us by the medium of stimulus from bodies external to us ; 
 and those that arise in some way by virtue of our own con- 
 stitutions without immediate external stimulus ; we may call 
 these sources (i) "Objective," and (2) Subjective. 
 
 It is thus left to us to examine as fully as possible the 
 nature of these two sources of experience. I have carried 
 out that examination, and I find that the ultimate sources of 
 our knowledge of the world are the senses, the widest scope 
 being given to the extension of this term consistent with the 
 results of our physiological researches and introspective 
 tests. 
 
 We may now return to the consideration of the schemata, 
 assured then that if we discover the secrets here also we 
 shall have covered the whole field. 
 
 Amongst a series of delicate examinations and experi- 
 ments which I carried out were certain analyses destined to 
 give the answer to such questions as : ** How many objects 
 of thought can the mind hold in contemplation at one 
 moment? " 
 
 The answer to this question is : One, and the sense of 
 relation of that one to the next succeeding, the first dying 
 away as the second arises. 
 
 This answer I give not from any preference, tempera- 
 mental or other, to that solution, but beoause I have been 
 led to it by methods of demonstration. 
 
 At the same time I undertook a series of analyses of 
 which the object was to discover the essential mechanism of 
 mathematical processes. These two forms of investigation 
 became ultimately associated; for I found that all the 
 
100 ETHICS 
 
 mathematical operations rested upon that of counting, and 
 that counting-, as we know it, was rendered pK>ssible only 
 by the fact of the mind operating, as has been said, from 
 one unitary conception to another. 
 
 I next investigated all the processes that lie at the base 
 of mathematics, both spatial relations and those referring 
 to order. I found all the Fundamental Processes to be in- 
 volved, so that all operations might be regarded as 
 combinations of these. 
 
 Then I showed that the scope of mathematical operations 
 could be made co-extensive with the field of thought. In 
 this manner, then, finally I was able to show that the 
 Fundamental Processes which I exhibited were both sufficient 
 and necessary to cover the whole domain of thought, and 
 ithat any form of thought was capable of being exhibited as a 
 synthesis of these processes. 
 
 The whole mode of approach to the central problem of 
 psychology is thus, as I have barely outlined it, altogether 
 different from that usually found in books of psychology, in 
 which each one has copied, adapted, slightly extended or 
 amended his predecessors. I have therefore proved that not 
 only have I by the method adopted been able to arrive at the 
 solution of the central problem of psychology, but that by no 
 other method was this possible. Incidentally I have shown 
 wherein consisted the deficiency and the faults of the systems 
 of Aristotle and of Kant, and I have made it clear that not 
 only is the guiding principle of Herbert Si>encer's psychology 
 faulty and defective in enunciation, but that he fails to enter 
 into the veritable essential problem, and that therefore his 
 system was destined to be infertile. 
 
 Minute investigations on the Fundamental Processes 
 follow, that on Memory, for example, being based on a series 
 of experiments, some of a very laborious character, devised 
 to give definite answers to a series of probing questions.^ 
 
 Naturally, a system of psychology obtained in this 
 manner becomes more than a lifeless theory ; it becomes also 
 an instrument of investigation in regard to various "posi- 
 tions " in philosophy, and by its aid I have given solutions 
 
 1 In the excellent work of Dugas : " La Memoire et I'Oubli " will 
 be found numerous references to this chapter of mine on Memory in 
 which the experiments are cited as conclusive. 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS ': ' ubt 
 
 to a series of these that have baffled the minds of thinkers 
 since speculation on such matters first began. 
 
 The Fundamental Processes themselves are shown to have 
 certain necessary relations which bind them all together, 
 but without labouring that matter, of high interest though it 
 be, it is possible now to formulate these Processes. 
 
 They are : 
 
 1. Immediate Presentation. 
 
 2. Concept of the Unit. 
 
 3. Association. 
 
 4. Memory. 
 
 5. Agreement. 
 
 6. Generalization. 
 
 7. Sense of Effort. 
 
 8. Impulse. 
 
 9. Hedonic Sense. 
 
 10. Sense of Negation. 
 
 11. Concept of Space. 
 
 12. Concept of Time. 
 
 Turning now to the special problem of ethics I have, as 
 in the Psychology, surveyed the products hitherto presented 
 in this field, and I have found them all unsatisfactory, not 
 merely as regards any special determinations or conclusions, 
 but in their basis. It behoves us therefore not to seek to 
 piece any of these together, or to form some sort of adapta- 
 tion that may favour our own preferences, but rather to ask 
 new questions of modes of approach and of methods of 
 investigation. 
 
 Accordingly, as in referring to Aristotle and to Kant and 
 to Herbert Spencer, I have sought to cut into a mass of 
 intricate and voluminous argumentation by showing the 
 "germinal idea" in each case from which the system had 
 become developed, so, too, in regard to the system here 
 offered I will lay aside all technical phraseology as far as 
 possible, and I will exhibit in bare form, divested even of 
 those subtle and intangible associations that have helped to 
 direct the thought, the germinal idea from which I have 
 proceeded. 
 
 In the first place, a system of ethics should be impersonal. 
 It should have permanent value, even though its precepts 
 should be capable of application to the particular circum- 
 
^62= ETHICS 
 
 Stances of a certain time. The scope of the system should 
 be g-eneral; and that will be found to be a principle which 
 will serve as a valuable determinant. 
 
 The suggestion of the Fundamental Processes will help 
 us in two- ways. One of them consists in the study of their 
 import as regards ethics, the other in the manner in which 
 they have been obtained. 
 
 Here, then, is the germinal idea : to strike down by bold, 
 daring strokes, whether of analysis or by some means of 
 illuminated vision, so as to obtain principles that are funda- 
 mental, that rest on bases as deep as those of the accepted 
 laws of nature themselves ; and on that foundation to build 
 the superstructure step by step by rigorous consecutive 
 arguments. 
 
 Fandamental . Principles of Ethics 
 
 When any one of the principles sought for has been ascer- 
 tained, then that remains for ever in our possession, for 
 truth is always consistent with itself, and we may be sure 
 that whatever principle we may subsequently discover will 
 not be in disaccord with the first. Three of them I posit, 
 just as in the Psychology I posited the Fundamental Pro- 
 cesses. They are Truth, Energy, Sympathy. 
 
 When I say ** posit " I do not mean to imply that I 
 seize these at hazard with an air of saying that they will 
 serve our purpose ; I shall show them to be not only funda- 
 mental but inevitable. My reason for "positing " them now 
 is thiat I believe the exposition of matters that might easily 
 become abstruse is aided if the reader knows the drift and 
 intention of the argument, for he is then able to see what 
 matters are essential, and what others occur by way of 
 illustrations in the course of the reasoning. 
 
 Another reason for positing them is that to take the 
 reader through the whole route that led to the recognition 
 of these principles as cardinal might seem, although interest- 
 ing to a small number of the elect, too fastidious and complex 
 for the patience of others. 
 
 It is perfectly scientific, however, to announce a result, 
 and then to show that the result is a necessary consequence 
 of the conditions from which we have been able to proceed. 
 
 Certain corollaries will be drawn from these principles; 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS 103 
 
 they will, in fact, be found extraordinarily fertile in that 
 regard ; and with the original principles and the consequences 
 that flow from them we shall find ourselves in possession of 
 an ethical philosophy which is true and necessary, and of 
 which the applications cover the whole field of ethical 
 problems. 
 
 It must be noted that if these principles be necessary to 
 the explanation of a true ethical philosophy they may not 
 be sufficient; that is to say, there is nothing to prove that 
 another principle, or other principles, may not be recognized 
 that may be adjoined to these in a co-ordinate manner. 
 
 This is true, but we are helped by psychology to under- 
 stand that if we exhibit certain valid factors entering as 
 components of a solution then they remain undisturbed, even 
 though the solution be incomplete ; and just as we found in 
 psychology that the Fundamental Processes implicate each 
 other, so we shall find this with the fundamental principles 
 of ethics. Therefore, in faring forth we shall be able to test 
 the sufficiency also as well as the necessity of our principles. 
 
 I regard, then, the three principles which I have as the 
 "Tripod of Ethics," that is to say, the supporting structure; 
 or, as I might express it by another metaphor, the main 
 lines which make the framework of the vessel. The 
 corollaries which will flow from, these principles, or which 
 will be obtained by other considerations in accord with them, 
 will develop the whole complex structure of the ethical 
 isystem in its adaptation, even to particular questions. 
 
 Certain of these subsidiary principles will be ascertained 
 by returning to the suggestion of Herbert Spencer, in regard 
 to evolution. I make use of him here rather as a name to 
 indicate my intention, for I have already rejected his philo- 
 sophy ; but I find something useful in his method, and I will 
 bear it in mind in endeavouring tO' obtain some criterion of 
 higher development. 
 
 To fix the ideas — for all that is now being said has an 
 abstract air that will be rendered familiar by examples — 
 suppose that we affirm that the development of intelligence 
 is of a higher ethioal order of things than the development 
 of physique, our statement would probably be accepted 
 without demur. That, in fact, is the manner in which such 
 a position is usually presented. I want, however, not merely 
 
104 ETHICS 
 
 to prove this, but to find a principle which will demonstrate 
 it and be capable of development in the way of establishing 
 other positions which may seem less obvious. 
 
 The examination of the Fundamental Processes will have 
 a bearing- at any turn on the questions of ethics, for these 
 processes serve to trace out the course of the mind in reason- 
 ing", or in the progress from one set of related facts or 
 concepts to another; and the reasons that determine the 
 progress along certain lines are linked not only with the 
 intellectual character, but also the moral nature of the 
 individual. 
 
 The importance of the study of the Fundamental Pro- 
 cesses will be clearer if examples be given. Thus various 
 schools of philosophy have discussed for two thousand years 
 the question of pleasure, or, as we may call it in a more 
 general sense, the Hedonic sense, in morals. Aristotle 
 asserts that pleasure should be a guide, but not an aim. 
 Epicurus more boldly makes pleasure itself the goal, though 
 he defines pleasure in terms that make it accord with Aris- 
 totle's own conception of intellectual activities that produce 
 happiness. Kant has the Scottish Calvinist's dislike to 
 pleasure in itself, and that temperamental feeling appears in 
 the mandatory form, dominating natural inclinations, of his 
 "Categorical Imperative." Herbert Spencer inclines to the 
 Epicurean view, but he seeks to justify his position by 
 appeals to laws that have a wider scope than even individual 
 predilection. 
 
 Here it would seem that a choice is offered, and that it 
 greatly depends on the general terms of one's habits and 
 thoughts as to which school one may prefer. 
 
 But in discussing^ the nature of association, and finding 
 reasons why in a network of possible paths the course of 
 thought should proceed in a certain direction, we found that 
 even at this level, where many of the processes become 
 automatic and unconscious, the influence of the Hedonic 
 sense is prevalent in determining the associations. 
 
 It is, therefore, unscientific to attempt, as Kant has done, 
 to build an ethical system that runs counter to this Hedonic 
 principle. 
 
 * In "Psychology : A New System " and "Principles of Psychology." 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS 105 
 
 There is another manner in which the study of the psycho- 
 logical foundation will help us, and incidentally show the 
 insufficient basis on which famous systems of ethics have 
 been built up. Hume, as we have noted, regarded sym- 
 pathy as the support of ethics, and he elaborated the matter 
 so as to show the utility of this sentiment. Adam Smith, 
 who built his system on sympathy, accepted in the main the 
 reasonings of Hume, but believed that something deeper 
 was involved than the mere consideration of the advantage, 
 whether to the individual or the community, of that 
 sentiment. 
 
 Adam Smith's system is very inadequate as an exposition 
 of a complete ethical doctrine, but his intuition was here 
 finer than Hume's. In sympathy there is something more 
 fundamental than anything that can be likened to an assess- 
 ment of benefits. The question is associated with others in 
 close relation, so that instead of merely discussing it in the 
 terms in which it appeared to Hume and Adam Smith, I 
 propose to take a new cast of thought. 
 
 First of all consider the physical world. If a material 
 system, the simplest being a material point, be introduced 
 into this world, it will undergo the influence of various 
 forces such as gravity, electrical condition, pressure and 
 resistance of the air. If the body be originally endowed with 
 velocity, then its course will be determined by all the forces 
 that impinge upon, as well as by the original conditions of 
 the system. 
 
 Suppose now that instead of the material system we 
 suppose an organism, and that to save time in our progress 
 we rise at once to the human organism. The course of that 
 organism through the world is determined by its original 
 constitution and conditions, complex as they may be, taken 
 in conjunction with the forces that influence it not only from 
 the physical world, but also from the psychical world, 
 represented by institutions, various factors of education, 
 and all the forces of whatever kind derived from other 
 minds. 
 
 Now the problem of psychology, in its most general ex- 
 pression, is to show the manner in which the mind of this 
 organism comports itself in this world of experiences, and in 
 what manner it gains the impression of the world as it sees 
 
io6 ETHICS 
 
 it, even in its completely objective aspects, and in what vi^ay 
 it adjusts its knowledge and the directives of its actions to 
 attain certain accord with the external world. 
 
 In the investigation of this problem we find that given 
 certain conditions the Fundamental Processes arise auto- 
 matically, or, as we may say, instinctively. There is a 
 physical correlative to a sensation, or Immediate Presenta- 
 tion. When that physical correlative is produced in any 
 way, and in similar conditions, the Immediate Presentation 
 arises similarly, independently of our desire or pleasure. 
 
 The next stage of complexity is when the organism must 
 adjust its movements not only to its own personal require- 
 ments, but in correspondence to that of similar organ- 
 ism, actuated by experiences, feelings, desires of a like 
 nature.^ 
 
 From the p>oint of view of the individual it is evident 
 that he will better direct his course in relation to other in- 
 dividuals in proportion as his knowledge of their conditions, 
 their intentions, and desires, is better. It is at this point 
 that we have the explanation of the fact which Adam Smith 
 vaguely perceived without being able to define, viz. that 
 
 * Here infallibly we must come to a conception of istandards of 
 judgment, of principles of guidance, and therefore ultimjately of some 
 general interest or purpose. 
 
 We cannot content ourselves with that limitation of the scope of 
 ethics which M. L6vy-Bruhl would impress upon us, for even if we 
 tried to look at the whole of the processes before our eyes in the most 
 objective manner, we would be convinced that in the reality of things 
 the adjustments and relations that take place between organism and 
 organism are not closely comparable with those which we first con- 
 templated in regard to purely physical systems. 
 
 The interplay of organism on organism results successively in the 
 modifications of each of these, and therefore finally of the nature of 
 the world in which they move ; and however much the philosopher 
 regarding the whole matter may endeavour to be unmoved by emotion, 
 or by the sentiment of the ethical advantage of one set of feelings or 
 conceptions over others, it is the case that the individuals themselves 
 are constantly influenced by such sentiments. 
 
 The aims they have in mind may at times be illusory, the desires 
 of a temporary or circumscribed character, but they are not only real 
 in themselves, they make the total reality of human endeavour. 
 Therefore the philosopher, without departing from a scientific attitude, 
 should even in regard to fragmentary and imperfect conceptions and 
 desires of the individual, offer the same advantage of clear vision and 
 generalization as a mathematician who expresses a general theorem 
 that covers a number of solutions of particular problems. 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS 107 
 
 sympathy is not an outcome of a consideration of advantages 
 arising- from any display of character or of action ; it is more 
 immediate and natural. 
 
 It arises here easily as an extension of the psychological 
 principle that when the physical correlative be present the 
 corresponding sensation, or other psychic state arises. For 
 if there be a clear apprehension of the intelligence, the aim, 
 and the mood of another individual, all that will have been 
 brought to our mind in a representation of the ideas, aim, 
 mood, the more impressive the more this representation is 
 vivid and complete ; and becoming tlius assimilated in our 
 own thoughts, these conceptions affect ourselves, auto- 
 matically and spontaneously, with the emotions which they 
 excited in the original mind, in proportion as our disposition 
 is in accord or otherwise with that of the original. 
 
 This feeling is called sympathy. In this manner we see 
 that it is both of a fundamental character and that it bears 
 directly on ethical problems. To that degree those who 
 have considered it of great importance in ethics have been 
 justified, but in resting their systems entirely on that base 
 they have given a partial and therefore misleading view of 
 the subject. 
 
 Another ethical incident of sympathy is found in the ex- 
 planation of the r61e of co-operation in human society, and 
 that will be considered in its place. For the present I con- 
 tent myself with establishing the ''Tripod of Ethics " on the 
 ground that each of the three facts is general, fundamental, 
 and of cardinal importance in ethics. 
 
 The definition of energy in the physical world, as being the 
 capacity for doing work might with the simple adaptation of 
 the language be employed in the world of moral affections. 
 Hence it will be found to be fundamental and essential. 
 When the ultimate analysis is made of the conditions under 
 which man conducts his life, it is seen that his constant 
 battle is against the forces of nature, and one of the factors 
 that determine the degree of his success is that of his energy, 
 mental and physical. The importance of this factor is seen 
 throughout the whole scope of the world where force comes 
 into play. The difference between the light of the sun and 
 
io8 ETHICS 
 
 that of a candle might in part be described as a difference of 
 energy. 
 
 The consideration of energy in its character and relation 
 leads into a thousand different fields. For instance, the 
 physical energy of the individual depends on the degree of 
 energy of the different component parts that form his body, 
 and the energy of each of these depends on the state of its 
 health, and that depends on questions of the favourable con- 
 ditions, as, for example, with regard to exercise and nutri- 
 ment, which apply to each of these parts. 
 
 It is not, however, necessary to labour the question of 
 the essential character or the importance of energy, since it 
 is evident that in any conflict of two men, or two races, 
 or two systems, the victory will remain with that which, all 
 other things being equal, has displayed the greater energy. 
 Like Aaron's rod, the true doctrine will eat up the others, 
 and the disciples of the true doctrine will prevail eventually 
 against those of the false. 
 
 A lingering doubt on the ethical side may give uneasiness 
 here as to whether this implies in any sense a preference of 
 might to right. I have already refen'ed to the ethical worth- 
 lessness of the systems of glorification of brute force, but, on 
 the other hand, it will be found as one of the consequences of 
 this present work that we shall often have occasion to recast 
 our standards of right. We are apt to pass our own judg- 
 ments of a sentimental character upon tendencies and acts, 
 and decree them as lofty, superior, or spiritual, and then find 
 fault with some process of nature that takes no heed of these 
 eulogistic descriptions. Supposing then that we had two 
 races, or nations, in opposition, equal in all things except 
 that of an ethical principle; which afforded greater energy 
 to one than to the other, then by the mere fact of survivance 
 the ethics of the race of the greater energy would be superior 
 to that of the other. 
 
 This statement may require a little reflection, but its 
 truth will api>ear the more clearly the more we consider it. 
 It must be remembered that the principles of ethics, how- 
 ever difficult to formulate, apply to real men, and not to 
 abstractions or to men whose traces have disappeared. 
 Otherwise we might just as laudably elaborate ethics for 
 the man in the moon. Applying these to real men, they 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS 109 
 
 must apply to such as would be survivors in a struggle of 
 life or death that hinged on the differences of ethics. 
 
 Energy, therefore, by reason of its vitality, is a principle, 
 general, fundamental, and true. 
 
 To some, the peculiarity of this argument may seem that 
 it rather enforces a position that would be accepted almost as 
 self-evident. That may appear to be the case when the 
 principle is expressed free from bias ; but so far from being 
 currently accepted, we shall find, on the other hand, that 
 nearly all the popular ethical teachers preach the superiority 
 of a state of quietism, a non-resisting meekness, and what 
 we may roughly call a namby-pamby kind of ineffectiveness. 
 
 That is, indeed, one reason why ethical gospels often 
 seem so far away from real life, and why the philosophies 
 that have been thus produced are despised by men of 
 character. The vogue that some of these systems have 
 acquired is due to an association of falsity and hypocrisy, 
 cunning men using the teachings to subdue the resistance 
 of others while showing by their actions, as apart from their 
 professions, how little hold the doctrines have had upon 
 themselves. 
 
 Finally, we touch again on Truth as a general and funda- 
 mental principle. What is Truth? said jesting Pilate, and 
 waited not for an answer. That phrase has been so often 
 repeated that it has acquired authority, in the sense of sug- 
 gesting that no answer could be forthcoming even if Pilate 
 had been less jocose and more patient. In my own ex- 
 perience, however, I have not found pro-consuls to be para- 
 gons of speculative subtlety, nor exemplars of devotion to 
 high ethical standards; they are generally men of mediocre 
 intelligence and manufactured opinions.^ 
 
 As a rule there is no great difficulty in knowing what is 
 meant by truth in ethical matters, and the metaphysical 
 perplexity is rather played upon by dishonest minds seeking 
 to escape from a situation in which their own truthfulness, 
 or consistency, may be impugned. 
 
 ^ The answer to the question of Pilate is contained within the whole 
 exposition of " Psychology : A New System " and " Principles of 
 Psychology," and particularly in a chapter in the sanctions of belief. 
 
no ETHICS 
 
 Even if there were difficulty in accepting Truth as a 
 general and essential principle of ethics, it would be sufficient 
 to make it a condition within which the exposition of any 
 particular system might be contained; as if, for example, 
 we were to say : This work is consistent with the general 
 march of the phenomena of the world, but it expressly ex- 
 cludes fiom its purview whatever may be accepted by those 
 who have no regard for Truth and which they put forward 
 in accordance with that spirit of negation. 
 
 To sum up this chapter at the threshold of the system, 
 we have set forth three great fundamental principles, general, 
 essential, true, which form the determining structure on 
 which our system will be built. 
 
 That system will be found to be fertile of positive results ; 
 but even if these were to be disregarded, it could be claimed 
 that already by the assertion of these three fundamental 
 principles an immense mass of ethical teaching which has 
 influenced and often dominated tlie minds of men for 
 thousands of years can be swept aside. 
 
 That is of great value in itself, and as the influence of 
 the false teachings of the generations near our own time is 
 more plainly seen, it will be found to have been of immense 
 importance; for at present this false teaching cramps and 
 distorts and vitiates young minds at their most susceptible 
 age, comparably to the malpractices of flat-head Indians, 
 nnd few minds so strained ever regain elasticity and freedom 
 sufficient to enable great conceptions to enter or natural 
 opinions to be formed. 
 
 In subsequent chapters each of these principles will be 
 developed, and subsidiary principles consistent with, them 
 be investigated and elaborated. Thus, for example, it will 
 be found that the establishment of truth as a principle leads 
 to the fostering of science. When, in regard to determining 
 man's position in the world and the effect of his acts from 
 an ethical standpoint, we seek to define the world, we find 
 the great divisions which are represented by the physical 
 sciences, the biological sciences, and the mental sciences. 
 From each of these we shall obtain assistance. 
 
 We shall then be in possession ai the main form and 
 
FOUNDATION OF ETHICS iii 
 
 guiding- principles of our ethics. Coming tlien to the life 
 of the man, first in the family, then in social communities, 
 and finally in the state, we shall find various institutions 
 which form effective practical guides. 
 
 What we must demand is that the spirit and form of 
 these should be in accord with the general principle; that 
 being the case, we may trust in small and immediate matters 
 rather to the guidances of these forms than to abstract 
 reasoning derived from first principles. 
 
 The subsequent part of the exposition will accordingly 
 show developments arising from the fundamental principles 
 of Truth, Energy, Sympathy ; then a review of the con- 
 siderations derived from physics, biology, and psychology ; 
 then la discussion of certain institutions and forms, par- 
 ticularly of government; then an illustration of the mode of 
 application of the principles to special problems ; finally a 
 summary with a consideration of ideal forms. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Truth 
 
 The principle of truth in ethics implies something- more than 
 the mere passive acceptance of true propositions, or the 
 mandate to refrain from false statements; for since we li^ie 
 in a world where influences both from the inorganic and 
 the org-anic world determine our mode of life, and our 
 relation to other being-s, it is evident that the fuller and 
 the more precise our knowledge with respect to these 
 domains the better we should be able, other things being 
 equal, to make the necessary adjustments. 
 
 Hence the recog'nition of the principle of truth should 
 lead at once to activity in the search of truth ; and when 
 such activities are co-ordinated and rendered as efficient as 
 we can make them, we enter into the domain of science. 
 
 The pursuit of science suggests step by step to the mind 
 the need of attaining^ improvements in methods and instru- 
 ments, not only those of a physical kind, but such as imply 
 dispositions and processes of the mind. Amongst the 
 faculties of the mind capable of development generalization 
 is important. We meet with it as one of the Fundamental 
 Processes in its rudimentary form ; but when it is developed, 
 both in its scope and in the facility of its application, it 
 disting^uishes a mind trained in a scientific manner from 
 the mind of the uneducated or falsely educated man. 
 
 This is not merely a faculty of artistic excellence or 
 show; it corresponds to a real power over the objects of 
 thought. To make this clear an example may be given. A 
 boy at school is given a problem in algebra which involves 
 the solution of a quadratic equation. This quadratic 
 equation may be expressed with numerical factors, and after 
 a series of tentatives a correct solution may be found. If the 
 solution has been arrived at unsystematically it may happen 
 that the boy may not remember, or may not be able to repeat 
 
TRUTH 113 
 
 the stej>s by which he arrived at the result. If, then, he be 
 given another problem, slightly varied, he may not recognize 
 that it belongs to the same category as the first, and possibly 
 all his tentative efforts fail. 
 
 In seeking for a generalization the student would recog- 
 nize that the particular numerical factors might be changed 
 into other numerical factors without altering the essential 
 characters of the problem ; and the next step would be to 
 express these factors by letters such as "a," "b," which 
 would thus represent any or all numerical factors. 
 
 The solution obtained in these terms would be general, 
 and it would have a wider scope, and consequently greater 
 power in this field of investigation, than a particular solution, 
 for any particular solution could be found at once by sub- 
 stituting for the symbols **a," **b," the numbers corre- 
 sponding in the particular problem. 
 
 This is a simple illustration, but there will be no difficulty 
 in extending the principle, nor in finding examples where 
 generalization has given command over a wide range of 
 applications. 
 
 When Newton enunciated the law of gravitation, accord- 
 ing to which every particle of matter in the universe attracts 
 every other particle in the direct ratio of the masses and 
 in the inverse ratio of the square of the distances between 
 the particles, he had reached a generalization less certain 
 than that of the formula of solution of quadratic equations, 
 for he had not tested the law with respvect to every particle 
 of matter nor had he given any absolutely convincing reason, 
 such as the discovery of a universal causative process from 
 which the law would follow as a corollary. Newton leapt to 
 a conclusion, and though this process is usually unscientific, 
 it becomes justified if every example subsequently tested is 
 found to be in accord with it. 
 
 The means of progress in science is, in fact, no other 
 than that of tentatively forming hypotheses, and then sub- 
 mitting them to a test. It may happen that a discovery will 
 show us that there are bodies which escape Newton's law, 
 but we would not for that reason reject the law, we would 
 endeavour to ascertain the nature of the bodies subject to 
 that exception, and we would seek to form, a new generaliza- 
 tion by separating in the case of such bodies found the 
 I 
 
114 ETHICS 
 
 essential factor from the accidental attributes found in 
 association with it. 
 
 We gain something", then, by every generalization which 
 covers a wide field, and if on closer examination we find 
 exceptions to the generalization we still gain by a better 
 definition of the law. 
 
 Let us take another example of a definition still bolder 
 than that of Newton, and rendered hazardous by the fact that 
 it dealt with animate beings, but which has proved of great 
 service in science. 
 
 Theodore Schwann placed a portion of meat in a jar 
 hermetically sealed, and a similar portion in a similar jar in 
 which access was allowed to the air. In this jar putrefac- 
 tion took place ; in the closed jar there was no putrefaction. 
 
 Schwann, taking up a theory that had been first put for- 
 ward by Spallanzani, ascribed the difference in the state 
 of the two portions to the action of germs in that to which 
 access was allowed ; then he put forward the daring general- 
 ization that the presence of germs was necessary tO' produce 
 organic change of any kind. 
 
 Schwann, who was a Roman Catholic in religion, hesi- 
 tated before publishing a theory of such vast consequence, 
 and he consulted the Archbishop of Bonn on the question. 
 The Archbishop thought that Schwann had absurdly exag- 
 gerated the impvortance of this experiment, and he gave the 
 permission required. Here, it may be remarked in passing, 
 is an instance of an ethical question of great significance 
 being decided on grounds that took no account of the essen- 
 tial character of the problem at all. 
 
 The issue on the moral side might be expressed as that 
 of the question whether it can be right at any time to 
 prevent the knowledge of a truth of great importance to 
 humanity. The only grounds of such suppression are those 
 of the possible conflict of this truth with some established 
 formula or dogma. But we may accept as a postulate con- 
 cerning truth that it is always in accord with itself ; therefore 
 this truth could only be in conflict with a false formula or 
 dogma. The point then appears as to whether truth should 
 prevail over falsehood. 
 
 Expressed in plain terms the position shocks our sense 
 of justice, yet there are many great historical examples 
 
TRUTH 115 
 
 where the representatives of the morality of a nation have 
 decided in. favour of falsehood. 
 
 The story of the Inquisition and of its persecutions of 
 men of science of the calibre of Galileo and Vesalius, is 
 familiar, but in the ordinary administration of the govern- 
 ment of all nations the principle arises, though in less 
 spectacular form, and the decision is often given in con- 
 formity with some rule, or custom, which places secondary 
 motives above cardinal motives. In other words, falsity is 
 preferred to truth. Here we have a glimpse of the wide 
 range and searching character of this principle which we 
 have placed in the forefront of our system of ethics. 
 
 Returning now to the question of generalization, we find 
 that Schwann could not have tested every example of organic 
 change, nor possibly could have had a clear view even of all 
 the fields of application of his principle ; for organic changes 
 take place not only in putrefaction, but in all the physical 
 operations of healthy life, in the course of disease of any kind, 
 and in a great variety of processes such as fermentation. 
 
 That the presence of germs was necessary to effect 
 changes in all these cases was indeed a great conception, 
 and one of which the value is found in the enormous impetus 
 given to bacteriological research. 
 
 The first great work of Pasteur in this domain had a 
 stimulation which derived from an ethical source, quite apart 
 from the general motive of the advancement of truth and 
 knowledge and of the furtherance of the power of generaliza- 
 tion. It was in fact patriotic considerations which first 
 induced him to turn his attention to the ravages produced 
 by phylloxera in the French vineyards. 
 
 His labours redounded to the credit of France, not 
 merely in an intellectual regard, but also in advantages that 
 may be measured by material standards. The delicate re- 
 searches among microscopical organisms resulted at length 
 in saving the vineyards, in increasing the revenue of France, 
 and thus in helping her considerably to pay off the indemnity 
 demanded by Germany. 
 
 The generalization of Schwann suggested research so as 
 to distinguish the bacteria, and this has set in motion a vast 
 amount of scientific work, and has changed the whole out- 
 look of medicine in regard to disease. 
 
ii6 ETHICS 
 
 Then, further, since all organic change was produced by 
 germs, it followed that in the processes of decay of any 
 vegetable, a potato, for example, germs should be found in 
 activity. The next step was to reflect that such activity in 
 a vegetable substance implied nutriment derived from the 
 substance. This suggested to Koch the cultivation of 
 bacteria on suitable media, and experimentation to find the 
 best media. 
 
 Here, again, we have at once, as if by the removal of a 
 shutter from a window, a view of vast possibilities of 
 development. Cultivation suggests by contrast immunization, 
 and the investigation of immunization showed in what 
 manner the knowledge of vaccination, first practised some- 
 what empirically, could be employed. 
 
 By steps of this character we see that the observation of 
 Schwann, illuminated by his brilliant generalization, was 
 sufficient to set going a great amount of research which 
 was destined finally to lead not only to the best means of 
 dealing with disease in the individual, but of lessening its 
 ravages, and eventually of eliminating it by large preventive 
 measures. 
 
 It would be possible here to show the bearing of this 
 discussion on ethical questions by citing an argument of 
 Herbert Spencer which leads to the adoption, for a standard 
 of development, of ** mass of life " ; that is to say, the exten- 
 sion of life and the higher appreciation of activity and scope 
 of life. This, of course, depends on the general health of 
 the community ; therefore eventually on such generalizations 
 as that of Schwann, and hence ultimately on the principle of 
 Truth. 
 
 That particular position of Herbert Spencer I accept, 
 but I prefer to reach my conclusions by another route. In 
 the meantime I would like to cite other cases of the fecundity 
 of great generalizations, and to indicate in what manner it 
 may be shown that those features of our modern civilization 
 in which it is suj>erior to that of the Greeks depend on 
 science and on the practical corollaries of science. 
 
 In this way without losing anything of the value of 
 Herbert Spencer's standard we will arrive at a conception 
 of the importance of the principle of Truth far greater than 
 if we measure it merely by physical advantages. 
 
TRUTH 117 
 
 The reference to Schwann's g^eneralization is, however, 
 not quite complete ; for, after showing the great results that 
 followed from it, we must now be reminded that that 
 generalization was not true in the form in which he 
 enunciated it, nor was there sufficient ground in his observa- 
 tions to warrant his interpretation. The actual presence of 
 minute organisms is not necessary to produce organic 
 changes, though the work of these organisms is required. 
 The changes are for the most part brought about not by 
 their direct action as living organisms, but by ferments 
 which they produce. 
 
 This fact does not destroy the work founded on the first 
 generalization ; but it serves to rectify it and to render it 
 more precise. 
 
 This is not a case, however, of a valid result being 
 produced by fallacious reasoning, for the greater part of the 
 work of development did not depend on the knowledge of the 
 exact process or mechanism producing the changes. At a 
 stage when greater precision became requisite, error would 
 result from the failure of the generalization to correspond 
 with the facts. 
 
 Hitherto we have observed developments within the limits 
 of a particular science. It will be interesting to look for the 
 early stages of others, and we shall find them generally in 
 the speculations of the Greeks. 
 
 Fertility of Mathematics in Discovery 
 
 Amongst the sciences which they cultivated, and to which 
 they rightly attached great importance, was that of mathe- 
 matics. Their system of mathematics was too restricted, for 
 they worked greatly by means of relations of the parts of 
 geometrical figures on the one hand, while they cultivated on 
 the other a form of rudimentary algebra, without perceiving, 
 what it was the chief glory of Descartes, some two thousand 
 years later, to make clear, that these twO' realms could be 
 made to interweave, and) that the results of algebra could be 
 applied to geometry so as to lay bare a vast number of 
 geometrical relations. 
 
 Nevertheless, the Greek geometers produced some very 
 interesting results, especially in their treatment of conic 
 sections. They were acquainted, for example, with im- 
 
ii8 ETHICS 
 
 portant proi>erties of the parabola, such as that two lines 
 drawn from any point of the parabola, one to the focus and 
 the other in a direction parallel to the axis, formed equal 
 angles with the tang-ent at that point. But rays of light 
 reflected from a surface make, in their successive directions, 
 equal angles with the reflecting surface. Therefore finally 
 rays of light thrown upon a parabola in a direction parallel 
 to its axis would be reflected to the focus. This would also 
 be true of rays of heat, as is indicated in the derivation of 
 the word itself from focus, a hearth. 
 
 Here is one practical result, and it is recorded that the cele- 
 brated Archimedes made use of observations of the kind to 
 assist the Greeks in war by setting fire to the enemy's ships. 
 
 The reason why geometry lends itself so easily to physical 
 applications is that it deals mainly with the relations between 
 straight lines and symmetrical figures, and in nature there 
 are a vast number of occurrences which are displayed in 
 straight lines and symmetrical figures. 
 
 Thus, for example, light travels in lines which may be 
 generally taken as straight for all practical purposes, so 
 that the results obtained from geometry are applicable at 
 once to optics where the effects are observed of the incidence 
 of beams of light upon bodies possessing symmetrical or 
 regular surfaces. 
 
 An optical apparatus is a kind of wireless telegraphy, but 
 its use is limited by visibility. We have no need to strain 
 terms, or to speak in paradoxes, however, to link the 
 thoughts of the Greek geometers with that of wireless tele- 
 graphy as we know it to-day. 
 
 Galileo went to the works of Archimedes for instruction 
 and inspiration, and his researches in optics produced, 
 amongst other results, the invention of the telescope. ' 
 
 The investigations of Descartes in optics produced con- 
 siderable advances in the knowledge of the behaviour of light, 
 but it was really his work in a domain which might seem at 
 first sight to have no reference to optics that at length 
 resulted in the most brilliant discoveries in that particular 
 subject. 
 
 * Galileo used in 1609 a telescope modelled on that which Hans 
 Lippershey constructed in 1608, but the Dutch inventor relied on 
 theoretical principles which had been expounded by the great Italian. 
 
TRUTH 119 
 
 In mathematical matters a new device is rather a dis- 
 covery than an invention,^ and so the establishment of the 
 Cartesian co-ordinates results from a remarkable stroke of 
 observation. This extraordinarily interesting* history may be 
 outlined briefly. Descartes lying- in bed, as was his wont, 
 one morning", thinking intently became suddenly struck by 
 the fact that three of the walls of his room, taking the floor 
 as one of the walls, traversed each other at a point, one of 
 the corners of the room. 
 
 This was the veritable leap of genius of the philosopher's 
 career, and the flush, of excitement of this discovery and the 
 corollary that immediately shone out, made Descartes 
 physically leap out of bed with excitement. He had observed 
 that an object in the room was distant, in a perpendicular 
 direction, from these three walls, by lengths which could be 
 measured. These measurements could be expressed by 
 symbols, by numbers, in fact. Conversely, then, if one had 
 the three walls given it would be possible to find again the 
 position of the object when the three symbols, or measures, 
 were known ; and so for any point in the room or space. 
 
 The symbols of those three measures are examples of the 
 co-ordinates of Descartes — Cartesian co-ordinates, as we call 
 them.^ 
 
 ^ Hermite, one of the masters of the Calculus, regarded the great 
 feats which served to advance our knowledge of mathematics rather as 
 discoveries of hidden relations than the creation of new associations. 
 His correspondence with Stieltjes is very interesting in this regard. 
 
 2 It is usual to speak of space as of three dimensions. Further, 
 it is evident that if a point in space move, and we know the law of 
 its motion, we shall require to take time into account in order to define 
 its position at any moment. Thus if x, y, z represent the measures 
 of the Cartesian co-ordinates, and similarly / be taken a.s the symbol 
 of time, we will have in our expression for the position of the point the 
 indices, or co-ordinates, x, y, z, t. Lagrange accordingly speaks of / 
 as a fourth dimension, meaning nothing more by the term than is 
 expressed by calling x a dimension, that iis to say, the measure of a 
 co-ordinate. The phrase "fourth dimension," however, passed into 
 literature, and various philosophers, notably Czolbe, spoke of Time as 
 the fourth dimension, and tried to imagine something that bore the 
 same relation to space as space does to a plane surface. 
 
 Here, however, we have simply a confusion of terms. I have shown 
 in "Psychology: A New System," that tfie conceptions of time and 
 space are fundamental processes, and that therefore they cannot be 
 merged one into the other. 
 
 Further, to speak of space as of three dimensions is meaningless, 
 except in reference to some system of co-ordinates as, for example, the 
 
120 ETHICS 
 
 If now we take a reg^ular and symmetrical body, such as 
 an ellipsoid, and set up our system of Cartesian co-ordinates 
 so that the orig-in of co-ordinates, that is to say, the point of 
 intersection of the planes, coincides with the centre of the 
 figure, then any point in the surface of the ellipsoid will be 
 expressed by these co-ordinates, so related to each other 
 that, as a little reflection will convince the reader, when any 
 two co-ordinates are given the third is determined. This 
 relation may be expressed in the form of an equation, and 
 since the ellipsoid is a regular and symmetrical figure, the 
 equation corresponding to it will be regular and symmetrical. 
 The principle can, of course, be extended to other figures. 
 
 It will be seen therefore that instead of investigating the 
 figures we may investigate the equations correspvonding, and 
 
 Cartesian. But Pliicker, noting particularly that the selection made 
 by Descartes of his system of co-ordinates was in some degree 
 arbitrary, devised another system of co-ordinates in which four, or 
 even five, co-ordinates might be used. Space, then, might be said 
 to be of five dimensions. This method of Pliicker is not an instance 
 of mere ingenuity j he wished to obtain forms of expression which 
 would enable him to regard equations containing more than three 
 dimensions, apart from time, as expressing spatial relations, and his 
 system has been extended by the conceptions of Klein and Sophus Lie. 
 
 Space has no dimensions in itself. The term dimensions here has 
 meaning only in relation to some system of defining the position of a 
 point. Yet there is a reason for the special predilection for the con- 
 ception of a three dimensional space, and that is to be found, in 
 ultimate analysis, in the constitution of our phyisioal frame. If we 
 stand erect, with the arms extended horizontally sideways, then the 
 perpendicular axis from head to foot, the axis through the arms, and 
 the axis parallel to the direction in which the eyes look, form a system 
 comparable to that of the three lines of intersection formed by the 
 placing of the walls of a room, and that meet in a corner of the room. 
 
 There is, therefore, nothing too recondite in the conception of four 
 dimensions, including Time for moving bodies', as Lagrange with his 
 lucid intellect perceived it ; but lately a whole school of philosophers, 
 misled by the manner of expression of Einstein, have been torturing 
 their brains trying to imagine what a space of four dimensions may 
 be when time is taken to be a " dimension " of the same quality as 
 those of space. Finding themselves confronted with impenetrable 
 mysteries, they opine that they must be in the presence of profound 
 philosophical truths lurking behind the veil, whereas they are simply 
 enjoying a much more ordinary experience — confusion of thought 
 arising from vague definitions and loose reasoning. 
 
 It is necessary to mention this, for Einstein's Theory of Relativity 
 is believed to have a deep ethical significance. In an address to the 
 Academie des Sciences, October, 192 1, Paul Painleve dealt in a 
 masterly way with Einstein's theory. His chapter on Mechanics in 
 " De la M6thode dans les Sciences " should also be consulted. 
 
TRUTH 121 
 
 by appropriate operations upon them we may be led, by 
 translating into spatial terms, to discover properties of the 
 figures. 
 
 That is the great advantage of the system of Descartes. 
 He has enabled us to use for the purpose of geometry the 
 valuable system, of algebra which had been developed in- 
 dependently. Subsequently when the infinitesimal calculus, 
 which is a developed form of algebra, was invented or, as 
 Hermite would prefer to call it, discovered, this instrument 
 also became available. 
 
 Returning now to the question of optics, it is evident that 
 since many of the phenomena are associated with regular and 
 symmetrical figures, that this calculus, which we have seen 
 applied to geometry, will serve to solve problems in optics 
 also. 
 
 As a matter of fact, it was so applied, and with brilliant 
 results, in the hands of Newton, who favoured the corpuscular 
 theory of light, and in those of Huyghens, and subsequently 
 of Fresnel and Young, who developed the undulatory theory. 
 
 The Survey of Science. Illustrations from History of 
 Wireless Telegraphy 
 
 Now let us look back at the beginnings of another science 
 which we will eventually link on to that of light. The 
 ancients knew that if a piece of amber were rubbed it would 
 attract threads of silk or small pieces of feather. These 
 efforts were referred to as electrical, the Greek word for 
 amber being elektron. 
 
 They also knew that a certain kind of ironstone found 
 in Magnesia had the property of attracting small particles 
 of iron. This observation was the foundation of the science 
 of magnetism. 
 
 Both electricity and magnetism have played so important 
 a part in the development of our modern civilization that it 
 is with a feeling of wonder that we contemplate the petty 
 origins of the vast effects produced. 
 
 It may be said, therefore, that where we have the mani- 
 festation of a force in nature we have the clue that will 
 lead us to the control of vast powers, for nature never 
 operates by chance, and the magazine in whichi her forces are 
 stored is enormous. The first glimpses into the secrets of 
 
122 ETHICS 
 
 nature are wonder-filling' now, in a new sense, and they teach 
 us that even the means of wielding gfreat instruments of force 
 in the material world flow, not from the exercise of brute 
 strength, but from the subtle play of the intellect. 
 
 This, it may be noted, is a valuable result in regard to 
 the task of drawing up a scale of ethical values of human 
 faculties. 
 
 The observations mentioned remained barren for cen- 
 turies. Even the great Greeks were not alive to their 
 importance, for the main deficiency of their science was that 
 of experimentation. They despised the mechanical arts, and 
 on account of this habit of mind, which had an ethical aspect, 
 they failed to turn their ingenuity to the best account in 
 invention, and so they cut themselves off from, the advantage 
 of such observation of precise measurements as appropriate 
 instruments afford. 
 
 It had, however, been observed at an early date that a 
 needle-shaped piece of magnetic ore tended to place itself 
 in a direction approximately north and south, and that a 
 needle-shaped piece of iron, when close to it in the same 
 direction, became in turn magnetic. 
 
 The Chinese appear to have been the first people to have 
 used these properties in the mariner's compass, and here we 
 see again the importance in the development of civilization of 
 even a rudimentary knowledge of natural phenomena. 
 
 The first man who studied magnetism extensively appears 
 to have been Dr. Gilbert, the physician of Queen Elizabeth. 
 Not till comparatively recent times do we get even any sug- 
 gfestion to make practical use of electricity. In 1746 the 
 effects of the Leyden jar were accidentally discovered, and 
 in 1753 Stephen Gray and Granville Wheeler propvosed to 
 utilize this jar for the transmission of signals. 
 
 When later the discoveries of Galvani and Volta had 
 given great impetus to electrical research, telegraphy became 
 possible, but not yet very practical. 
 
 Oersted observed while demonstrating in class that the 
 passag-e of a current of electricity caused a suspended magnet 
 to vibrate.^ Subsequently, Laplace and Ampere proposed to 
 
 *This discovery of Hans Christian Oersted was published in a 
 tract dated July 21, 1820. 
 
TRUTH 123 
 
 Utilize this effect in signalling, and Tribouillet and Schilling 
 actually constructed telegraphs on the principle indicated. 
 
 The next step was Faraday's observation that a current 
 became induced in a closed circuit when a magnet was 
 brought near. Gauss and Weber both devised improved 
 forms of telegraphy, and Steinheil constructed in 1838 a tele- 
 graph that worked satisfactorily. The first telegraphs had 
 a complete wire circuit, but Gauss suggested that the earth 
 might replace the return wire, and he also surmised that 
 eventually the remaining part of the wire might be rendered 
 unnecessary. Here we have the germ of wireless telegraphy. 
 
 The accidental experiment of Oersted, and later the re- 
 searches of Faraday, had shown the connexion between 
 electricity and magnetism. The theoretical interpretation of 
 certain of Faraday's results was supplied by Clerk Maxwell 
 by means of mathematical formulae deduced from a few ele- 
 mentary assumptions. Meanwhile a system of electrostatic 
 units had been established, side by side with a system of 
 electro-magnetic units. Evidently some relation existed be- 
 tween the two, and Clerk Maxwell found that in making the 
 transition the electro-magnetic unit contained v electrostatic 
 units, where v represented the velocity of light. 
 
 This coincidence could not well have been merely acci- 
 dental, and as he reflected upon it Maxwell received the 
 suggestion that light and electricity were but two different 
 manifestations of the same kind of energy, the difference 
 between them depending on the difference of length of the 
 ethereal waves. 
 
 Since Maxwell's time it may here be said that every fresh 
 advance in the knowledge of such vibrations indicates that 
 there is a very extensive scale of undulations, extending on 
 the supra-red side of our spectrum to giant waves of miles in 
 length, to waves on the ultra-violet almost inconceivably 
 shorter than the shortest visual waves. Our visual organs 
 are, indeed, little detectors suspended in space, which serve 
 to reveal to us directly a portion, but only a limited portion, 
 of the vibrations of the ether that sweep about us. 
 
 The conclusions of Clerk Maxwell permitted the appli- 
 cation to electricity of the apparatus of mathematics which 
 had been elaborated in the course of study of light. 
 
 The next step of importance was that of Hertz, the 
 
124 ETHICS 
 
 German physicist, who, following a sugg^estion of Helmholtz, 
 sought to obtain with electrical waves results analogous to 
 those obtained from light waves, such as reflection, refrac- 
 tion, and interference. 
 
 Hertz succeeded brilliantly. In the course of his ex- 
 periments he had devised, or rather adapted, a simple 
 means of projecting the electrical disturbance into space. 
 
 Here then were the electrical undulations produced at 
 will, and comparable to the undulations of light. All that 
 we required was an electrical eye to detect them. 
 
 That electrical detector, the forerunner of many others, 
 was discovered by Branly, this being another great result 
 following what may be called, though not quite correctly, 
 an accidental observation. Branly was not at that moment 
 seeking for a detector in order to develop wireless tele- 
 graphy, but he was experimenting and reaching results that 
 appeared to him noteworthy. He observed that whenever 
 electrical vibrations were sent into space, as, for example, 
 by the discharge of a Ley den jar, the electrical resistance 
 of a little tube of iron filings was altered. 
 
 This gave a means of detecting the presence of such 
 vibrations, for the change of resistance could be made evi- 
 dent in a great variety of ways. For example, according 
 as the resistance was diminished or increased, the current 
 in the whole circuit of which the tube of iron filings was a 
 part would be increased or diminished, and hence the attrac- 
 tion of a spiral of this circuit on a magnet attached to any 
 movable part of an apparatus would be increased or 
 diminished. And since the electrical vibrations could be 
 produced at will, we would be able in this way to signal. 
 We have, in fact, arrived at wireless telegraphy. 
 
 Branly, it is true, produced the effects afr the distance 
 only of a few yards, but enough had been done to inspire 
 Marconi to seek to develop the system, and to obtain signals 
 at longer and longer distances. 
 
 Marconi was aided in his work by the calculations of 
 Lodge and Fleming, and finally the genius of Tesla, who in- 
 vented powerful means of increasing the energy of the 
 electrical waves, made the whole scheme practicable. Since 
 then a great variety of work has been done, and intensive 
 study of every part of the apparatus has produced a 
 
TRUTH 125 
 
 mechanism of extraordinarily great efficiency and useful- 
 ness. 
 
 In reviewing this rapid sketch of the development of 
 wireless telegraphy, traced from the days of the Greeks and 
 the early speculations of science, we find the co-operation of 
 the minds of great thinkers in many countries, each one 
 bringing his quota and adding his link to the chain without 
 necessarily perceiving the full value of the work in reference 
 to the final accomplishment. 
 
 What then is the relation of this discussion to a system 
 of ethics? 
 
 There are many modes in which the exploration of nature 
 may be shown to have a deep ethical significance. 
 
 It would indeed be sufficient, in default of all else, to 
 insist on the development of our own faculties, but there are 
 others perhaps even more significant. 
 
 This kind of exercise of tracing out the successive links 
 of the chain of development of a branch of science such as 
 I have shown in regard to wireless I could carry out — and, 
 in fact, in another place I have done so — in regard to all the 
 great sciences in their broad, general aspects; and I have 
 traced out the consequences of these sciences, and particu- 
 larly those practical corollaries which are represented in 
 great material works — telegraph systems, railways, steam 
 engines, oil engines, telescopes, microscopes, and the rest. 
 
 Further I have sought to discover what are the chief 
 features wherein our civilization differs from that of the 
 Greeks, and particularly the forms in which it is superior, 
 for there are many in which it is inferior; and I find that 
 these are all based on these practical corollaries of science, 
 and particularly on the great material systems that repre- 
 sent those corollaries, and on the conditions and modes of 
 life which have followed again as consequences of the adop- 
 tion of such systems. 
 
 In this sense then science is the "woof of civilization "; 
 that is to say, it lays the foundation on which the pattern 
 is superimposed and coloured by all the incidents of social 
 life. But science is the systematic interpretation of the 
 phenomena of nature in such a manner as tO' enable us to 
 understand to a certain degree their sequences, and accord- 
 ingly to be able in some instances to predict them. 
 
126 ETHICS 
 
 When we have traced the origin of the main sciences 
 which in their applications have resulted in great human 
 works, huge bridges, magnificent ships, even the most terrible 
 engines of destruction, we find, on the one hand, nature, with 
 her inevitable, never-failing precision and constancy, and 
 on the other the subtle play of a human intellect endeavour- 
 ing to register and to co-ordinate the happenings of the 
 external world as it knows them by virtue of subjective 
 impressions/ 
 
 One of the exercises of a scientific mind which I found 
 most fertile in results is that of generaliz.ation ; that is to 
 say, separating the essential from the accidental, and seeing 
 in this way the relation between objects which at first sight 
 might seem unconnected and remote. 
 
 It was a feat of generalization, for instance, in the mind 
 of Maxwell, and a great leap of thought, to perceive the 
 connexion between light and electricity. 
 
 It was another feat of generalization to perceive that 
 such a phenomenon as interference was not restricted to 
 light, but was an incident of vibrations of every kind. 
 
 It is also observable in this history of science that the 
 co-operation between thinkers need not necessarily be con- 
 scious in order to result in great work ; it may need the 
 exercise of another great mind to bring together results 
 from two different sources and to co-ordinate them. 
 
 Then again we may remark that in regard to* the inter- 
 pretation of nature, and even in view of obtaining great 
 tangible and visible results, there is no distinction between 
 practical and unpractical speculations and researches, if only 
 these researches be directed to the understanding of move- 
 ments in nature. 
 
 Observations that to some people would appear idle and 
 trivial become in the mind of a Descartes the first step to- 
 wards devising an instrument of investigation of great power. 
 Without the Cartesian co-ordinates, or something equivalent, 
 
 ^ In the chapter on Externality in "Psychology : A New System," 
 I have shown that keeping within the principle of Idealism, and 
 tracing out by the most rigorous argument the manner of our 
 acquisition of knowledge of the world, we may arrive at the most 
 complete sense of objectivity ; so that henceforward we may con- 
 veniently speak in terms of this objectivity. 
 
TRUTH 127 
 
 we could never have had wireless telegraphy, for we should 
 not have had the mathematical apparatus on which the re- 
 searches of Maxwell and Hertz depended. 
 
 It m.ay be said generally that no exercise of the faculty 
 of thought, the most recondite, airy, and apparently im- 
 material, is ever lost if only it be related to the discovery of 
 a truth in nature, in the widest sense ; and there is no truth 
 discovered by subtle speculations that does not eventually 
 redound in the great material works that strike the imagina- 
 tion of the people. 
 
 Standards of Value Derived from Study of Science 
 
 There is something fascinating in tracing the course of 
 realization from the subtle probings and questionings of an 
 engineer's mind, dealing with the delicate instrument of the 
 calculus, and thence onward to the realization of his dream 
 in the vast bridge which gains fame for its massive size and 
 giant strength. The great feat has already been accom- 
 plished in the scientific imagination ; that is the one irre- 
 placeable and inimitable work ; all the other successive steps 
 of realization may be carried out by other minds. In this 
 respect, therefore, and within the scope of this observation, 
 we must call them inferior. By this means then we win 
 out another standard for adjusting ethical values. 
 
 Let us now cast a look upon the argument of utility. 
 That is an argument which is immediately convincing in 
 most companies, and yet, without underrating utility, it 
 seems to me one of the lowest in the whole category of 
 supports to science. 
 
 Utility is not itself a final motive, for we must ask : 
 Useful for what? 
 
 The question as to the utility of the study of organic 
 chemistry might be answered satisfactorily to some minds 
 by saying that it enables us to brew good beer. 
 
 I have heard at a meeting in London of a Society for the 
 Promotion of Science a discourse delivered, in which the 
 great argument in favour of chemistry was that it enabled 
 us to dominate the world's markets in soap. The inquiry 
 might be pressed still further as to the utility of soap. The 
 reply is obvious in regard to the cleansing qualities of this 
 mseful adjunct of civilization, but that, I think, was only 
 
128 ETHICS 
 
 part of the conception that gave the impetus to the eulogy 
 of science. For in the individual case a comparatively small 
 amount of soap suffices even for the most exigent demands 
 of personal propriety. But soap produced in colossal quan- 
 tities means colossal wealth, and wealth gives power at 
 least over most of the sources of a purely material enjoyment, 
 though very little over those that interest the affections or 
 make demands on the intellect. Hence, on this argument, 
 science is useful as the handmaiden of Mammon. 
 
 When these practical men, or even philosophers of the 
 school of Hume and Adam Smith, or later of Bentham and 
 the Mills, in fact all those classed as Utilitarians, urge their 
 doctrine of utility, I feel a movement of revolt, not that I 
 disagree with their notions of utility, but because I think 
 that that doctrine inadequately represents the whole position. 
 They modify that principle, in some degree, by insisting on 
 the higher utility of things of intellectual regard ; but if they 
 make utility the standard in itself, they have no right, any 
 more than we found with the Epicureans, to impress all their 
 mere tastes and predilections on others. 
 
 Utility can never be a standard, for utility implies a 
 sen'ice, and if it have no sanction beyond that of the service, 
 then the object for which that service is rendered is higher. 
 There is something almost of moral defeasance in the atti- 
 tude of these philosophers, who give themselves the air of 
 recommending their philosophy by pandering to a lower 
 morality and a lower intelligence. 
 
 There was no pretence, and no concession to an alien 
 opinion, in the view of the great industrial magnate, that 
 science must be patronized because it helped to produce 
 soap, for soap represented an element of that commerce 
 whose movements produce the main part of the activity and 
 life of the nation. 
 
 The question of utility becomes thrown back to that of 
 the utility of money, and by pressing the analysis deter- 
 minedly we infallibly come to objects of sensual enjoyment, 
 or to the indulgence of those states of mind in which the 
 pleasure is derived from honorific distinctions, the cere- 
 monials attaching thereto, and the accessory satisfaction of 
 excluding others from these advantages. 
 
 It is possible in this way to come to low motives ; sensual 
 
TRUTH 129 
 
 on the one hand, and on the other dependent on ideals of 
 an unintellectual and unelevated character. 
 
 It is true that eventually we shall find that in dealing- with 
 all secondary motives, which really make the g-reater part of 
 the driving force of our actual lives, we must refer them to 
 great primal impulses of life of sufficient strength to carry 
 on the whole play of activity. 
 
 Therefore I do not join with those who seek to form a 
 morality which either ignores the great passions, even sen- 
 sual passions, or erects a kind of ideal in opposition to them. 
 I say we must look at all that steadily, and with vision undis- 
 turbed, but that we must regard it in the total perspective. 
 But when I see the actual outcome in a life of what is called 
 enjoyment, or in the snufflings or wallowings of the petty 
 sensualities held out as lures to keep society in excitation, 
 then I feel a direct movement of sheer disgust, and I cry : 
 That is not the end of life, nor the meaning of life ! 
 
 That motive of utility to something else, whether of 
 destruction or the satisfaction of animal passions, is neither 
 the incentive nor the justification of science. 
 
 I am reminded of one of those stories of the old Greeks 
 which have come down to us invested with the poetry and 
 wistful beauty of legends and gifted with the wisdom, of 
 parables. Thales, one of the most famous of the early 
 students of nature, was reproached with neglecting for far- 
 off things those that were nearer and more important. In 
 order therefore to give a lesson to his countrymen and to 
 meet the reproach, such as is heard nowadays, that a man 
 of science must necessarily be deficient in the higher qualities 
 (that enable others to make money or to shine in the political 
 arena, Thales turned aside from his researches for a while 
 and bought up all the olives in Crete. 
 
 He then created what in the United States is called a 
 "corner" in these products, and showed how by holding up 
 the price he could have ruined his competitors in business 
 and enriched himself. Thales, rightly judging that these 
 were low pursuits which only employed an inferior intellec- 
 tual part, disdained to profit by this venture, but used it only 
 to drive home his lesson. 
 
 The series of men of little selfish ambitions pass away, 
 the men whose religion isi a swinish indulgence, the men 
 J 
 
130 ETHICS 
 
 whose souls are distracted and corrupted by the excitements 
 and the little grains of mere politics, these have passed away 
 and are forgotten ; but the work of Thales tells in the civiliza- 
 tion of to-day, for it laid the foundation on which successive 
 gfenerations of thinkers have built. 
 
 Thus, since the principles of ethics must be general, that 
 is to say, refer not to the p>ersonal advantage of any m.an or 
 set of men, but to humanity, we find in this way that, tested 
 even by the standards of material strength, the work of 
 Thales is of a quality higher than that of those who derided 
 him for the remoteness of his aims. 
 
 I turn from the arguments of the utility of science, such 
 as are ahnost the only pleas ever uttered in Parliament in 
 support of scientific research, to those of a book, *' Religio 
 Chemici," which, though written by one ^ who did not become 
 famous in the actual field of research, breathes with the true 
 spirit of science. 
 
 The lures and the rewards are not those of another and 
 lower sphere, but in the glory of research itself, in the satis- 
 faction of natural curiosity, in the play of high faculties, in 
 the wonder of new discoveries, and in the fascination and 
 mysterious awe with which at times, as if standing "on a 
 peak in Darien," we behold the revelation of mighty worlds 
 of agencies, powers, and purf>oses, and fates, into which we 
 have been permitted to enter. 
 
 This is not an overstrung view of the function of thought ; 
 it is as natural as that of the pleasure of eating and drinking, 
 and of a subtler kind and greater scope. Ultimately it rests 
 on foundations as deep as those of our own being. 
 
 We are so constituted that the exercise of natural func- 
 tions gives pleasure. That is in the very nature of things, 
 and it probably rests on the manner in which our physical 
 constitution is built up of myriads of organic beings each of 
 which seeks its full development, and in which necessarily, 
 for that is a condition of life, the attraction must be towards 
 health-giving resources. 
 
 The Appetite for Thought 
 
 The appetite for thought is just as natural and as health- 
 ful as the appetite for food ; but whereas millions are 
 
 ^ George Wilson. His book was pubhshed posthumously by his wife. 
 
TRUTH 131 
 
 carrying on the work of devouring and digesting food and 
 leaving the civilization of the world no further advanced than 
 they found it, few are carrying on the work of high thought ; 
 yet this is all that tells finally in the advancement of the race. 
 
 We find in the actual record of history examples of men 
 who in the pursuit of science for its own sake have sacrificed 
 material gain, and even the esteem of their fellow-citizens, 
 and yet have found in science a high spiritual reward and 
 consolation. 
 
 When Darwin first undertook the work of his life he was 
 a young sportsman, fond of hunting and shooting; but as 
 the Beagle progressed he found himself more and more 
 engrossed and fascinated, not by the killing of animals, but 
 by the observation of their modes of life, of the mysterious 
 conditions under which that life was carried on and 
 perpetuated. 
 
 William Herschel, the great astronomer, was a member 
 of a German band when he first began to conceive a scientific 
 interest in the heavens. Nothing, at first sight, seems more 
 remote from great work in astronomy than that of perform- 
 ing in an orchestra. The love of art here, too, operates in 
 a manner certainly more intellectually attractive than that 
 of the lust for slaughter of the sportsman ; yet urged by no 
 other stimulus than the feeling of the immense interest of the 
 search itself, Herschel with extraordinary patience first 
 fabricated a reflecting telescope, and then using it with skill 
 discovered a new planet.^ 
 
 Copernicus, feeling with his dying hands his book which 
 recorded the results of his high speculations ; Bruno perishing 
 in the flames because he would not renounce the truths that 
 science had taught him ; Galileo sending out in invisible 
 wings the thoughts that quicken our life to-day, and yet 
 suffering ignominy and imprisonment at the hands of 
 malicious fools ; Descartes hiding himself in Hollandi so as to 
 be free from the distractions that might interrupt his studies ; 
 S'cheele living in poverty while making cardinal discoveries 
 in chemistry ; Evariste Galois, dying at twenty-one, yet 
 leaving almost as his last solemn act an indication of the 
 
 ^ The seventh planet, Uranus, seventy times as large as the earth, 
 discovered in 1781. 
 
132 ETHICS 
 
 line of thought of his high conceptions in mathematics ; these 
 men have all helped to raise the standard of our life and to 
 add glory to the achievements of the human race ; but they 
 were, none of them, impelled by a calculation of utility, nor 
 stimulated by the hope of rewards that redounded in lower 
 enjoyments. 
 
 All this may seem to some to be an overwrought argu- 
 ment to convince us that science has its merits ; yet when we 
 view the actual community in which we live and behold the 
 hierarchy of greatness in the manner consecrated by state 
 forms and precedence, this argument so far from forcing an 
 open door is much more likely to fail in effectiveness against 
 the forces of the established order of false standards, 
 ignorance, superstition, and custom. 
 
 No man of science has sat by virtue of his science in 
 Parliament, and those who have been able on other considera- 
 tions to rise to positions where their counsels might tell in 
 the affairs of the nation have usually proved valueless, 
 warped by the false twists of character and intellect that 
 have helped them to success. 
 
 I like rather the story I heard from Professor Dastre, a 
 pupil of Claude Bernard, the great physiologist. It appears 
 that Wurtz on one occasion wishing to show some chyle to 
 his class found that none had been supplied for the demon- 
 stration ; he thereupon prepared a concoction which in colour 
 and consistence resembled chyle, and showed that to the 
 students. 
 
 Claude Bernard declared vehemently that such an action 
 was wrong. '* I could never have done it," he said. '* From 
 every quarter of the room I would have felt accusing fingers 
 pointing at me, and voices crying : * You lie ! You lie ! ' " 
 
 That is the veritable spirit of science, the main object 
 of which is not utility, expediency, or material comfort or 
 delights, but knowledge in itself, the satisfaction of the 
 highest need of the human being that makes itself manifest 
 when lower motives become less insistent. 
 
 Science would have certainly a sufficient warrant in its 
 utility, if that were the only test, for the outcome in 
 utility of the researches pursued for a higher object is not 
 accidental ; it arises from the very structure of the universe. 
 As our knowledge increases, and as we systematize and 
 
TRUTH 133 
 
 generalize the consequences that flow from certain great 
 truths become apparent. The immense diversity of nature is 
 due to the diversity of objects operating in accordance with la 
 few simple **laws." The diversity of the objects again is due 
 to the diversity of arrangement of the molecules of a few 
 simple bodies, or elements. The latest researches of physics 
 and of chemistry — for the sciences coalesce — ^tend to show 
 that these elements themselves are all built up from the atoms 
 of one substance, hydrogen, arranged in varying manners 
 and associated in various ways with electrons. 
 
 Finally, then, we arrive at a contemplation of an immense 
 and varied display being constructed on a simple architec- 
 tural plan, and we foresee that all the "laws " we have dis- 
 covered are partial manifestations of deeper laws leading to 
 conceptions of greater simplicity and harmony. It was con- 
 siderations of this kind — the sense of great effects being 
 developed from a simple principle or formula — that caused 
 Plato to say : God geometrizes. 
 
 Thus it happens that when a discovery is made in regard 
 to natural phenomena the applications are thousandfold ; and 
 since man's struggle is with the forces of nature, and he 
 must protect himself against the conditions when these are 
 unfavourable, and at other times adapt these forces to his 
 own advantage, it follows that results of utility arise 
 fromi any new discovery of the manner in which nature 
 works. 
 
 In place finally of the conception of a dumb nature dis- 
 playing brutal material effects, contrary to the spiritual 
 nature of man, we gain the impression rather of a nature 
 leading us by the hand from point to point, from conquest 
 to conquest, never refusing a reply, always giving the 
 answer consistent with all the others, always inevitable, 
 profound, and helpful. 
 
 That we disregard the lessons is due to the influence of 
 lower passions than those of the zest of thought, and here 
 by this fact we find a standard by which we may judge of 
 progress. 
 
 When we regard the annals of the human race from this 
 point of view we have the sense of a wonderful epic far 
 transcending that of the v^^anderings in the desert of the 
 Israelites, or of Homer's "Odyssey," and we see that the 
 
134 ETHICS 
 
 one guide throug-h the chaos and darkness is the steady light 
 of Truth. 
 
 Once again there is in this manner of regard something 
 higher, more powerful, and greater than that in which 
 science is regarded as a servitor to pomps, indulgences, and 
 lower passions. 
 
 At times also when we find ourselves guided by the 
 truths of science step by step as on a path between moun- 
 tain cliffs, there flashes out a sense that this guidance, how- 
 ever wayward according to our aptitude to receive 
 impressions, is inevitable, and that it responds to something 
 still beyond which contains it all, and which we may call 
 Purpose. Here ethics merges at its highest point into the 
 veritable conception of religion. 
 
 We may pause here to sum up briefly, and to indicate the 
 next step. Striking down to the deepest foundations we find 
 Truth as a constant guide. Adopting this as one of the 
 principles of our system, we find that though fundamentaF, 
 it reaches almost at once to consequences of great im- 
 portance. As an inevitable corollary the principle leads to 
 the development of science, and when this position is gained 
 we will find that it gives us secondary standards and develops 
 into institutions and other' means of governing social 
 activities. 
 
 That aspect of the matter will not be taken at this point, 
 for now I wish to consider with some particular attention our 
 second fundamental principle : Energy. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Energy 
 
 Energy means the p>ower of doing work, and work is the 
 evidence, if not the purpose, of life. Therefore energy 
 should be one of the standards by which we measure the 
 value of life, and hence one of the Principles of Ethics. 
 
 It seems at first almost superfluous to insist upon the 
 value of energy ; yet if we look at the doctrines of ethics 
 which have had greatest popularity, those which have pene- 
 trated most easily among the multitude, and those which 
 have been delivered from on high by academic thinkers, the 
 tendency has been less to extol energy than to preach peace, 
 ease, contentment, or quietude. 
 
 Peace and content are not incompatible with energy, 
 but it would appear so in the manner in which the moralists 
 have conceived these blessed states. Therefore it is necessary 
 rather to probe the matter to the depths than merely to 
 assume energy as a principle, because when directly pre- 
 sented it would generally be found acceptable. 
 
 In the physical world, as far as we can form standards, 
 energy, the power of doing work, is the test of importance. 
 The difference between a rushlight and the sun, we have re- 
 marked, is at base a matter of energy. The interest to us of 
 steam, or electricity, or the explosive force of gunpowder, is 
 that of accomplishing something for us by means of energy. 
 The whole activity of the industrial world rests on coal, or 
 oil, or some other fuel of the kind, and the value of coal is 
 measured by its energy. Scientific men are becoming con- 
 cerned about the approaching shortage of coal and oil, and 
 they are searching for other sources of energy. Experiments 
 with radium have suggested such a source in the breaking 
 up of the atom, and obscure and difficult though the problem 
 be, it is attracting the serious attention of thinkers. When 
 that problem has been solved the value of coal will have 
 
 135 
 
136 ETHICS 
 
 greatly diminished, tog-ether with its significance for the 
 strength of nations. 
 
 When from the material world we proceed to simple 
 organisms we find that the value of the work which each 
 accomplishes may be measured by its energy. Favourable 
 conditions of life favour energy, so that energy and develop- 
 ment go together. 
 
 Whether we deny consciousness to these organisms, or 
 admit it, or whether we consider it necessary to introduce 
 "vitalism " to explain physiological changes, it is certain 
 that a great proportion of the reactions that sustain life in 
 the organism depend on chemical and physical interchanges. 
 It is the energy contained in these which supplies eventually 
 the energy of the organism. In considering the energy of 
 such an organism we come down to the deepest facts of the 
 world about us. 
 
 But all animals are built up by multitudes of such 
 organisms held together so that their work may be adjusted 
 and co-ordinated. The hnal adjustment of the individual to- 
 wards the external world, both in its organic side and in 
 regard to the in-organic side, rests ultimately on these 
 elementary forms. 
 
 The energy of the individual therefore depends on that of 
 the constituent organisms and on their proper adjustments. 
 This when traced out finally resolves itself into a question 
 of health in regard to each faculty. 
 
 Certainly there is a competition continually going on for 
 the control of the activities of the body, as, for example, 
 between the physical and the mental development of the 
 man. 
 
 There is nothing incompatible absolutely in the nature of 
 things between high physical and high mental development ; 
 but when we consider the actual conditions of educating the 
 physical and mental faculties, we see that the factor of 
 time alone is decisive. It would be extraordinarily difhcult 
 for a man to be a great game hunter and a great astronomer 
 at the same time, for the training and exercise to become 
 proficient in hunting would not mean merely the diversion of 
 the man's energy into special channels, but particularly it 
 would imply absorption of time which could not be regained. 
 
 We will subsequently therefore require to consider a 
 
ENERGY 137 
 
 scale of values, but in any case the test of any of the 
 faculties is energy, and the condition again is health. It 
 may be said that many a weak or even invalid man has 
 shown great mental energy, from Aesop to Pope ; but that 
 particular part of the brain most interested in the form of 
 mental energy displayed was healthy and well nourished. 
 The obverse may be better seen. Many a half-witted in- 
 dividual has been endowed with great muscular strength. 
 That part of his apparatus was working under conditions 
 that implied high development, and that implied in turn 
 nutriment, exercise, and in a general way health in those 
 parts. 
 
 When we consider actual examples from history of dis- 
 plays of great energy, our minds generally revert to the great 
 conquerors, though I think this is due to the false values set 
 upon human acts in the histories written without a true 
 ethical sense. Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon, these 
 are great types of energy. 
 
 Wc read of the exploits of these men through the mist of 
 history which distorts their appearance and often gives a 
 false account of the cause from which events flow. I have 
 therefore desired to form an estimate of these in regard to 
 their physical, mental and moral constitutions, so as to 
 obtain if possible a standard of comparison between ancient 
 and modern men. 
 
 Viewed in this way we will find each of these men, a great 
 exemplar of energy in his way, deficient in some of the im- 
 portant factors on which energy depends. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte was short in stature, though he 
 descended from families on both sides who were well grown 
 and well proportioned. His deficiency of height was due to 
 the shortness of his legs, and, this appvears to have been due 
 tot defective nutrition while he was still growing. 
 
 In his early years he was extremely thin, and of a sallow, 
 unhealthy complexion. At Toulon he contracted a skin 
 disease, and in his first Italian campaign, when his: personal 
 qualities shone with great brilliancy, he was tuberculous.^ 
 
 Napoleon was of a highly strung, nervous temperament. 
 
 ^ I am indebted for this fact to the research of Dr. Augusta 
 Cabanes, who in his studies of history has made use of those im- 
 portant documents — medical prescriptions. 
 
138 ETHICS 
 
 Excess of emotian sometimes produced vomitingf fits, and 
 during the course of his dramatic career he was often moved 
 to tears. At Waterloo he was not at his best, physically, as 
 he had passed the previous night without sleep, and he was 
 also suffering from haemorrhoids, which made riding uncom- 
 fortable. He died of cancer, from which his father had also 
 died, as also his son, who suffered from an affection of the 
 lungs in which tuberculosis was complicated by cancer. 
 
 At Waterloo already Naf>oleon, though not yet forty-six, 
 was suffering from physical degeneracy. At St. Helena he 
 remarked on more than one occasion to Las Cases : " It was 
 not my body, it was my soul that was of iron." 
 
 I have dwelt on these particulars, not for the satisfaction 
 of finding a great man faulty, but rather to show how even 
 on a rather unpromising foundation a character of great 
 energy may be built. 
 
 The tendency of history is rather to create a legend and 
 to suggest that the works or the feats of famous men have 
 been due to qualities denied to the common run of humanity. 
 Hence arises discouragement amongst those who are con- 
 scious of their personal deficiencies ; it is a far better lesson 
 to show that in spite of shortcomings a man who bends his 
 mind to great endeavours may accomplish something of 
 which the record will live. 
 
 In spite of a faulty physique Napoleon gave some fine 
 examples of physical endurance, whether in the burning sands 
 of Egypt, or in galloping from Valladolid to Burgos, or sleigh- 
 ing on the steppes of Russia ; while in duties which, though 
 not putting so great a strain on the physical powers yet 
 required a strong fund of physical energy, for example, in 
 his ceaseless vigilance and attention to detail in administra- 
 tion, he won the admiration of all who knew him. His 
 capacity for work was what especially appealed to Gladstone, 
 and this tribute is all the higher when Gladstone's own 
 energy and industry in affairs is taken into account. 
 
 What, then, was the secret of Napoleon's energy? In 
 the first place, though he suffered from many deficiencies, yet 
 relatively to the average of humanity he was not ill-endowed 
 physically. The vital organs were all sound, except for an 
 abnormality of the kidneys, and for the condition of the 
 stomach, when at length attacked by cancer. 
 
ENERGY 139 
 
 Now nature, though not an indulgent mother, is seldom 
 niggardly in her physical gifts, and if a child be viable at all 
 it will be found that he has a reserve and excess of strength 
 which is capable of being highly developed by care and 
 judicious exercise. 
 
 Napoleon was never self-indulgent, except perhaps for a 
 brief period during his power as Emperor. He had never 
 trained himself particularly in physical exercises, but on the 
 other hand he had never over-strained his physique in athletic 
 feats. 
 
 His habits and his morale sustained him ; and this morale 
 was in part derived from his ancestry, but also in part 
 developed by his education and by the constant guidance of 
 high ideals that he had set before his mind. 
 
 His mental capacity was high, though not of the highest 
 order; it had been diverted from the great purposes of life 
 into those channels where the effects produced were more 
 spectacular than enduring, and where the play of a fine in- 
 tellect is less in evidence than the powers of pleasing, 
 mystifying, or commanding the populace. 
 
 Yet viewed throughout the whole range of history I find 
 no one amongst the conquerors or the strong men in politics 
 who equals him in the variety of his interests or in the 
 masculine work of a comprehensive mind. 
 
 At St. Helena, where to a life of too violent activity 
 succeeded a period of calm and reflection, his intellect seemed 
 to have reached its best phase, and there are few men who 
 have been immersed in affairs whose judgments have so 
 wide a range and such just balance, and whose deep thoughts 
 are so well expressed in that form of aphorism which gives 
 evidence of a habit of generalization. 
 
 Yet his life was in great part wasted and diverted by low 
 ambitions into petty and infertile channels. He seems to me 
 not the finest type of humanity of whom, history gives record, 
 but rather the last of the great barbaric kings. 
 
 Csesar is another whom we may accept as a model of 
 energy. The very name, energy, was a perpetual stimulus 
 to him, and he held up as an ideal a life of high activity. 
 
 C^sar was tall and of fair build, but he was far from 
 being a good specimen physically. He was subject to 
 epileptic fits, he was prematurely bald, and even as a com- 
 
140 ETHICS 
 
 paratively young man he was worn down by a life of sensual 
 pleasure. 
 
 The g-raven imag-es of Caesar with which we are most 
 familiar, as for example, the bust now in the British Museum, 
 represents a hard, irresponsive man, of granite character. 
 
 This is certainly not a fair representation of the real 
 Caesar. He was stern, even cruel at times, but his nature was 
 easy and plastic, and his manner attractive and conciliatory 
 far beyond that of most Romans of his day. In activity of 
 mind and in the easy play of intellect he most resembles 
 Napoleon, and he resembles him also in the manner in which, 
 even by jocularity, he could win the personal affection of his 
 soldiers.^ 
 
 Like Napoleon, too, he was inspired by an ideal, which 
 though liable to be merged in personal ambitions, yet brought 
 him into a moral sphere far removed from indulgence, or the 
 trivial things of vanity. As in the case of Napoleon also this 
 cast of mind was developyed and nourished by education and 
 by a noble emulation of the great examples of history. 
 
 Recently I read his Commentaries again in order to 
 endeavour to get a scale of accomplishment so that I could 
 assess the degree of superiority, if any, of Cajsar above the 
 ordinary tyf)e of Cabinet Ministers I had known in Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 I found, and here again the parallel is close with 
 Napoleon, that his explanations of situations are always 
 simple and clear, and that the reasons he gives for any par- 
 ticular action are such as appeal to common sense. Then, 
 the next step of his recital is to say simply and naturally that 
 Caesar proceeded to do what he had decided to do. Here in 
 this simple memoir is revealed the true superiority of Caesar. 
 
 In our modern life, especially in affairs, our great men 
 shrink from those clear and decisive actions, where they must 
 depend on their own intellects and where they must face the 
 results. 
 
 The first movement with most is to find some means of 
 off-shouldering responsibility, and of discovering some 
 refuge from failure. Between two courses they do not ask 
 
 ^ These characteristics of Caesar are well shown in a bust in the 
 Pitti Palace, in Florence, which has all the appearance of having been 
 taken from life. 
 
ENERGY 141 
 
 whidii is right, or even, which is indicated from high political 
 motives, but which is the more recommended, or the more 
 popular, or the more easy to escape from. Their minds 
 move in an atmosphere of current hypocrisies, and various 
 of their moral lapses are dignified with epithets which make 
 them regarded as virtues. These men hold their positions, 
 but they accomplish, nothing. They have neither foresight, 
 nor deep reflection ; nor minds of scientific cast, nor boldness 
 of character; nor energy of action. For the lack of these 
 qualities they are considered safe men, and they are highly 
 esteemed for that reason. 
 
 When in the movement of events some unavoidable or 
 tragic contingency on a large scale appears before their 
 eyes, their insufficiency is made manifest in the most ghastly 
 light by the slaughter and the ruin as of a disastrous war. 
 In such a crisis they are incapable of clear vision or of bold, 
 decisive strokes of action ; they scramble, deceive, cover 
 their own deficiencies, dissimulate responsibilities, and hope 
 for some turn of fortune, or some means of at length 
 muddling to victory. 
 
 Of Hannibal, the next of our great historic examples of 
 energy, we know less than of the other two. 
 
 He seems to have been, relatively to his time, better 
 trained and more decisively inured to the soldier's life than 
 either of the others. He was also better endowed physically, 
 though far from perfection in that respect. His mind was 
 alert to matters of intellect, and he was led on by a great, 
 if not in all respects a high, ideal. 
 
 Alexander, the most barbaric and the least enlightened 
 of all, yet seems to^ me flamed through and through with a 
 divine spirit of energy, and to have been led on, even in half- 
 mad adventures, by a high though vague ideal. 
 
 We read in history of the feats of such men, and as the 
 whole scope of life was more restricted in their day, their 
 exploits fill the canvas and bulk largely in the whole life of 
 the time. 
 
 Modern life is much more complex. It involves the 
 activities and mutual dependence of a far greater number 
 and states of comparable importance; the preparations for 
 this diverse and exacting life are more arduous. For 
 all these reasons, I seek again, so as not to be carried 
 
142 ETHICS 
 
 away by the mere fame of the ancients, to find a scale of 
 comparison. 
 
 DisouBsion of Energy on the Physical Side 
 
 This search has induced me to look at the feats of the 
 men they led or with whom they are associated, for then 
 we can form some sort of test. The result of researches of 
 the sort has convinced me that in physique, in the training" 
 for great athletic exploits, and in the mental characteristic 
 necessary to triumph in arduous ordeals, there are men of 
 the present, whatever be the case with the ordinary run of 
 humanity at both epochs, who are superior to those who 
 adorned the best days of Greece or of Rome. 
 
 It is difficult to obtain grounds of comparison, for there 
 were no precise time recorders in the days of the Olympic 
 games, and even ordinary measurements were carried out 
 with little concern for accuracy. Yet when we find move- 
 ments of large bodies of men fairly well recorded, and where 
 we read of the preparations in the way of training, and study 
 the ordinances of the games, and find animated descrip- 
 tions of great feats, there arises a general impression which 
 is not without value. 
 
 In the first place, although the period of the Olympic 
 games extended over centuries, there is no great variety in 
 these exercises. There were only two foot-races — a short 
 race of less than two hundred yards, and a long race of 
 about three miles. There were no hurdle races nor steeple- 
 chases. In leaping there was only the long jump. Neither 
 the high jump nor vaulting with the pole was practised, nor 
 were the standing long jump, nor the three jumps, nor the 
 hop, step and jump. 
 
 Here already we have a contrast, not favourable to the 
 Greeks, with the great variety and interest of our own 
 running and jumping sp>orts. Between a fifty yards dash 
 and a twenty or forty miles race, or a six-days' contest, there 
 is room for a dozen different champions to emerge, each at 
 his own favourite distance, while the Greeks had only two. 
 
 The competitors in the Greek games ran with bare feet, 
 over a dusty course, and the description of the start, when 
 their trainers held them in slips and exhorted them with 
 prayers to the gods to do their best to shed lustre on their 
 
ENERGY 143 
 
 native towns, suggests rather a stage spectacle than the 
 whirling speed of a sprint race. The athletes have been 
 described by the poets of the day as swinging their arms and 
 encouraging themselves by loud shouts; but these exercises 
 again are rather to be associated with worthy aspirations 
 than with the splendid style of great runners. 
 
 Corresponding to the great variety of our ball games, 
 the Greeks had but a few spheristic exercises of a somewhat 
 rudimentary kind. Similarly in the accounts of the 
 wrestling, we do not gain the impression of the great skill, 
 the variety of the holds, the resources of the wrestlers of our 
 time. 
 
 We have several accounts of pugilistic encounters, but 
 though some of them have been written by their great poets, 
 they fail to give even an inkling of those impressions of 
 speed and skill and resource, of the fire of the rapid, fierce 
 attacks, that we gain from the spectacle of a boxing bout 
 between two champions of the present day. Greek pugilism 
 appears to have been tame except for the brutality of the 
 encounter, for the fist was encased in the cestus made of 
 strips of hide studded with brass bosses. This barbarous 
 adjunct in itself reveals the deficiency of the pugilists' skill 
 and strength. 
 
 The preparation and the dietary of the athletes were both 
 faulty, and the tendency was to produce men of statuesque 
 appearance but deficient in energy and skill. ^ 
 
 The Romans had little of the exuberance of the Greeks, 
 either in the physical or mental spheres, and they had few 
 games, but we have the records of the movements of troops 
 and of the conduct of campaigns. 
 
 Although determined and ferocious warriors, they 
 avoided winter campaigns. They were subject to panics, 
 and to the evil influences of superstitions, and there was a 
 certain percentage of loss at which the discipline and morale 
 of the legions began to waver. Caesar himself describes his 
 officers as so alarmed by the mere reports of the prowess of 
 the Germans that they wept copiously, and proceeded to 
 
 *I have discussed these questions in more detail in "Rehgio 
 Athletae." In the preparation for this book I tried to collect all the 
 references in the classics which would afford any means of comparison 
 between the Greek athletes and those of our day. 
 
144 ETHICS 
 
 make their wills. It required all his strength of purpose as 
 well as persuasive address to win them back to a courageous 
 frame of mind. 
 
 Taking everything into account, I am inclined to think 
 that the best troops of the present day would be found 
 superior in physique, in endurance, or in energy to those of 
 the palmy days of Rome. 
 
 One of the most striking of the differences between the 
 modem and ancient soldiers is the far higher degree of 
 education and general intelligence of the warriors of our day. 
 
 Education has not impaired the physique of the men, 
 while it has given a greater balance and resilience of mind 
 which enables the modern better to deal with an unexpected 
 crisis. Even as amongst moderns, education, other things 
 being equal, tends to steadiness and to energy. In the 
 South African War it was the young men from the towns 
 rather than the farmers from the backblocks, with their 
 pristine health and strength, who proved to be the best 
 fighters. 
 
 Another point on which the real superiority of moderns 
 may be tested is that of length of life. This has dependence 
 certainly on many conditions, such as those of personal and 
 public hygiene, independent of the energy of the individual ; 
 but taking into account all factors of that kind, we shall 
 find, I think, a residue which shows that there is a greater 
 constitutional vitality amongst modem men than amongst 
 the ancients. 
 
 In ancient history, and in mediaeval history, we find also 
 that men who have dominated affairs have risen very rapidly 
 and at an early age to positions of command. In modern 
 life such promotions become more and more difficult, not on 
 account of any lack of ability or energy, but rather on 
 account of the number of capable men who already occupy 
 the posts, and also because of the complexity of the sub- 
 jects that must be mastered in order to give the necessary 
 qualification for ruling. It is only in exceptional circum- 
 stances, of war or revolution, or crises of great political 
 peril, that men of exceptional endowment find their chance 
 of rapid advancement, and in these cases it may happen that 
 we disp>ense with the condition of mastery of the essentials 
 required for good government. 
 
Er^ERGY 145 
 
 The modem man, having- to adjust his life to more 
 numerous and more complex contingencies, must have a 
 more hig-hly developed and more sensitive nervousi system. 
 Ihis is the cause of many weaknesses and failures due to 
 overstrain, but it is evident, on a dispassionate view of the 
 facts, that this greater sensitiveness of nervous constitution 
 is compatible with g-reater physical energy, as well as greater 
 mental power, than that of the ancients. 
 
 In discussing- the question of energy on these lines, I 
 am not losing sight of its application to ethics, though it 
 is already evident that from all the considerations we shall 
 here consider, a new conception of even the problems of 
 ethics must arise. We shall find these problems' less con- 
 cerned than hitherto with the theological conceptions of sins 
 and transgressions of various kinds, or with our mental 
 states and appreciations. The whole question will be im- 
 mersed in considerations of a far wider scope, including 
 purely objective factors, and we shall often find that acts 
 are ethically good or bad in themselves and according to 
 these conditions, rather than as judged by our own, often 
 false and sophisticated, sense of right and wrong. 
 
 The test of a system of ethics, it must be ever kept in 
 mind, is its ultimate validity, and of any two systems that 
 which, other things being equal, would assert its dominance 
 and control of the other must be preferable. That is why 
 cardinal importance must be attached to energy, and why it 
 is necessary to consider the quality of energy, not as an 
 entity bestowed on an individual, but as a manifestation 
 which depends upon innumerable factors. 
 
 We have considered energy in a mechanical sense, and 
 then in regard to the physical qualities of the individual. 
 But when we have regard to the total output of life, and 
 this is the true measure of energy, we must consider the 
 mental faculties of the individual, and also his relations to 
 society and the reaction of that society upon his own 
 development. 
 
 If from, this point of view we consider the ancient 
 Romans again, we shall find much to modify the admiration 
 withi which we regard their great achievements. Through- 
 K 
 
146 ETHICS 
 
 out the whole course of their history they produced an 
 extraordinarily small number of men, of their own race, of 
 superior intellectual endowment. I say " of their own race " 
 advisedly, because some of those who have adorned their 
 literature have been aliens both to their blood and to their 
 ethos. Horace, for instance, was the son of a freed man. 
 Plautus was, if not the son of a slave, of obscure origin. 
 Terence was of African origin, the son of a freed man. 
 Virgil was of Celtic origin. Seneca came from Spain. 
 Cicero and Catullus seem to have been scions of Latin stock, 
 but both were diligent students of the great Greek classics. 
 
 There were certainly amongst them not merely a few 
 examples, but a regular succession of men skilled in adminis- 
 tration, and endowed with great executive ability. Julius 
 Caesar was one of the highest examples of that type, as well 
 as one of the very few the play of whose mind seemed light 
 and elastic enough to rise out of the conventional grooves of 
 the Roman system, which had been fabricated less by the 
 intelligent thought or design of any man or series of men, 
 than by the pressure of interests, the accommodation, and 
 co-operation of all the people. 
 
 Such systems of philosophy or ethical thought which 
 they put forward derived their force less from any great 
 luminosity of vision, or splendour of moral fervour, than 
 from a sententious manner of expressing conformity with the 
 established order of things. That order was excellent up 
 to a certain point of development, and it is partly our 
 gain and partly our disadvantage that our modern civiliza- 
 tion, in many of its social and legal aspects, is formed on 
 the plan of the old Roman system. 
 
 As the Roman Empire extended, embracing new peoples 
 with new ideas, new ethical principles, new ambitions, the 
 sy^stem. was found to contain within itself the seeds of 
 its dissolution. Gibbon, in his "Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire," discourses with a pleasing mixture of 
 gravity and wit, and gives us many boldly drawn and im- 
 pressive pictures of the long history of a remarkable people, 
 but his analysis of the causes which led to the undoing and 
 break-up of the Roman Empire is superficial and extra- 
 ordinarily inadequate. He hardly touches on that deficiency 
 of intellectual energy which is so significant in this relation, 
 
ENERGY 147 
 
 not only for itself, but as a sign of the conditions that 
 prevailed. 
 
 The matter might be rather summed up by saying that 
 the Roman Empire began to perish, as every organism must 
 perish, when the development of the central nervous system 
 was found inadequate to supply the necessary stimuli of force 
 and control to the component parts. Or, again, the case 
 might be expressed in another way, by saying that any nation 
 will fall where the form of government does not contain 
 within itself the principle of expansion and adaptation to 
 meet the new developments which arise. 
 
 Let us look for a moment at the intellectual achievements 
 of the Romans, apart from their literature. Consider their 
 science. Here they had again the advantage of the works 
 of the Greeks, to which, nearly two thousand years later, 
 we have linked on our modern developments. The Romans 
 were not sufficiently intelligent even to profit by such lessons. 
 Their output in pure science was miserably small. 
 
 Yet they prided themselves on being a practical people, 
 and it was amongst them, more than any others of whom 
 we have record, that energy was held in honour. Their very 
 mottoes suggest it, and, so far, do them honour. Thus very 
 were accustomed to say : To labour is to pray ; or again : 
 Labour conquers all things. 
 
 Let us, therefore, judge them by the standard of material 
 works. The Roman roads are famous, as, for instance, that 
 of Watling Street, running from the South to the North of 
 England. It is a monument of hard work and patience, but, 
 on the other hand, it bears in itself the evidence of a people 
 of crass brain power, working by rule of thumb, and on the 
 principle of main strength and awkwardness. The simple 
 principle of contouring their roads was unknown to them, 
 and since we are drawing comparisons between their type of 
 brain and those of greater enlightenment, it is fair to say 
 that their system of transport was very inefficient. 
 
 On their Roman roads they transported with immense 
 difficulty their military stores from the South to the North 
 of England. A railway train accomplishes the journey in a 
 few hours. It may be said that the comparison is not fair, 
 that the Romans had no railway trains, and no means of 
 building them. That is precisely the point which I wish to 
 
148 ETHICS 
 
 bring out. No man seems to have arisen amongst them who 
 ever lifted his mind seriously from their besotted worship 
 of force. In place of questioning nature and winning out 
 her secrets, these great strong men contented themselves 
 with superstitions as puerile as abominable. 
 
 Thus it happened in the history of the world that, judged 
 by their own standards of force and power, they have been 
 easily surpassed by those whose minds they would have 
 despised, and whose pursuits they would have regarded as a 
 sign of degeneracy. 
 
 Here again we shall see a manner of winning out new 
 standards, and the lesson will evidently be salutary, for 
 even in this day notions are common and popular, and serve 
 to make the ideals even of our greatest poets, which are 
 no whit an advance on those by which the Romans perished. 
 
 The Romans built bridges. These bridges were massive 
 and enduring, but they were of a simple type, depending for 
 their construction less on any genius of design than on their 
 great resources of labour. Their bridges were of small span 
 and capable only of crossing comparatively small streams 
 or straits. It never occurred to a Roman in his wildest 
 dreams to build such a structure as the Forth Bridge, or the 
 beautiful suspiension bridge that connects Brooklyn with New 
 York. Yet, here again, comparison is fair according to the 
 standards of the Romans, and it condemns the Roman intellect. 
 
 We build nowadays large ships which cross the Atlantic 
 in a few days, conveying the population of what in Caesar's 
 day might have been called a respectable town. The 
 Romans, with all their adoration of strength, had a few 
 sailing vessels and clumsy triremes which ventured but 
 little out of sight of land. Principles employed in the con- 
 struction of the ships of our day have not been exhausted in 
 the production of the vessels which we have seen so far, 
 and it is not imp>ossible to imagine ships as much greater 
 than the largest nowadays as these are greater than a Roman 
 sailing boat. 
 
 I will not review the whole series of mechanical triumphs, 
 including those, for instance, of electricity and chemistry, 
 which we have to our credit. I mention them now only in 
 order to insist on the lesson that all these vast mechanical 
 results are not the product of men who thought in terms of 
 
ENERGY 149 
 
 mere brute strength , but that, as we have already seen, and 
 as we will find every time that we trace a great human work 
 to its source, the one essential part in the whole series has 
 been the free and subtle play of a superior mind. 
 
 We found that result in the discussion of the principle of 
 truth, and we arrive at it once more in discussing- that of 
 energy, and we shall see that these two great principles work 
 so together in unison that it might be said that in the deepest 
 resort of things one implies the other. 
 
 The gospel of work has been preached by Carlyle and 
 others, but it should rather be the gospel of accomplishment. 
 Thus, when the so-called Cleopatra's Needle was set up in 
 Egypt, it required hundreds of workmen to perform the 
 labour involved ; when it wa^ set up on the Thames Embank- 
 ment it required a machine, skilfully contrived, and some 
 four workmen. Which of these was the higher accomplish- 
 ment, not only in regard to that actual task, but in view of 
 the development of the race? 
 
 To ask the question is to answer it. 
 
 If we fail to have in view the accomplishment of the task 
 as the criterion we are apt to fall into the fault of posing, 
 and of finding merit in our shortcomings. 
 
 **A pound of result is worth a ton of effort." These 
 were the words of an American railway magnate, Hunting- 
 don, who, although not a man of high mental calibre nor 
 fine moral quality, achieved a good deal of useful work 
 under the guidance of that excellent formula. Such a say- 
 ing does not imply evasion of the task ; on the contrary, it 
 is necessary to have the work completed ; but it indicates 
 that there is no merit, but rather the reverse, in the waste 
 of strength. 
 
 Think of this in terms of great spectacular feats which 
 have sounded in the history of the world. In the expeditions 
 in the Arctic and the Antarctic there had often been disasters 
 followed by heroic endurance, and terminated by disappoint- 
 ment and cruel suffering. 
 
 Peary reached the North Pole and Amundsen reached 
 the South Pole, both without loss of life; but they had not 
 shirked the work, and they had achieved each a greater feat 
 than those who had failed amid tragic circumstances. 
 
 If we were to make the suffering and the endurance the 
 
150 ETHICS 
 
 criteria of greatness, then in our search for higher heroism 
 we should deprive even the unfortunate explorers of the 
 benefit of their foresight and intelligence and adaptability 
 and skill. We should came back to barbarism and the 
 march of the race would be retrograded. 
 
 Work in itself has no more title to glorification than 
 expenditure. For the proper conservation of our energy, 
 as for the solving of our affairs, we should never hesitate 
 to produce work or expenditure when necessary, but we 
 should economize in the outcome, so that the return may be 
 proportionately as large as possible. Efficiency is the test 
 of good construction of a machine; that is to say, the ratio 
 of the work performed by a machine to the work expended 
 upon it, as, for instance, by the fuel supplied. 
 
 When Carlyle, for example, found that his manuscript 
 of the "French Revolution," which he had lent to John 
 Stuart Mill to read, had been used as a firelighter by the 
 servant, he did not bless the occasion which had thrown 
 more work in his way ; he fumed and fretted, and to allay 
 the raging of his mind read Captain Marryat's sea novels, 
 and spoke unfairly of that excellent man. Then slowly and 
 with pain he gathered his forces together for a new effort of 
 authorship. 
 
 Yes, but here it may be said the work was, or should 
 have been, unnecessary. But what is the difference between 
 efficiency and inefficiency, except that inefficiency throws a 
 burden upK)n the machine that should be unnecessary? 
 And what if the inefficiency is met with at the source, in the 
 failure of intelligence, of receptiveness to ideas, of patient 
 analysis, of the energy necessary to acquire and to profit by 
 experience, of the habit of reflection, of generalization, of 
 the search for new illumination ; if it ignore all these subtle 
 activities is inefficiency the more respectable? 
 
 How does this thesis apply in respect to works of creative 
 genius? Carlyle defined genius as the faculty of taking 
 infinite pains, though probably in throwing off this definition 
 the Sage of Chelsea was taking less pains than usual, and 
 was rather pleading for the admiration due to the craftsman- 
 ship of letters. The popular notion is that genius is the 
 faculty that enables one to dispense with pains. The mark 
 of genius is the freedom and ease, and fascinating facile 
 
ENERGY 151 
 
 style in which a difficult work is done. Which of these 
 views is correct? 
 
 In order to decide I deal with a suggestion that was once 
 given to me by an admirer of Shakespeare — that the poet 
 accomplished his work without effort. What was in the 
 mind of his eulogist was the notion that the poet performed 
 the task of writing without great thought, and with a sort 
 of careless detachment of mind, as if in contempt of the 
 material he worked with and the end he achieved. 
 
 This critic had little or no authority for the views ex- 
 pressed, except that such an attitude seemed to him fitting 
 for a genius. It has something of the wonder, the surprise, 
 and the magic of the fairy tale, as when the worthless, 
 alcoholic workman suddenly suggests a brilliant invention 
 that has baffled the scientific man, or when the hopeless 
 scapegrace Aladdin becomes the possessor of the fortunate 
 lamp. 
 
 Certainly the manner of writing of the genius is not 
 that of the painful plodding of the uninspired man ; his 
 mind moves in another manner and in another sphere of 
 action ; but the cardinal fact is that he does the work. 
 
 The explanation lies partly in the anterior labours that 
 have been performed through the years of his development. 
 By his constitution, his tastes, his associations, the man of 
 genius has the current of his thoughts turned in a certain 
 direction, and by the exercise of his faculties continually, 
 and without forcing, in this way he acquires a sort of 
 intuition that keeps him on the right course; and with the 
 experience, if he be a writer, comes by natural association 
 the expression in words ; if he be a painter, the expression 
 in colours. 
 
 And so it happens that Byron, who wTOte his marvellous 
 "Don Juan" with great rapidity, replied that it had taken 
 him twenty years of preparation ; and that Whistler, when 
 asked sarcastically how long it had taken him to do a certain 
 little painting on which he had set a high price, retorted : 
 "All my life!" 
 
 Returning then to Shakespeare, we find that, however 
 accomplished, each play represents a great amount of work ; 
 in the conception of the whole drama ; in the elaboration of 
 the acts and the scenes ; in the clever picturing of the 
 
152 ETHICS 
 
 characters; in the ingenious arrangfement of their interplay 
 to bring out the best effects ; in the actual dialogue. 
 
 No work of this kind could possibly be accomplished by 
 one who at the time of writing had not found his intellect 
 and his temperament and his energy concentrated to the 
 exclusion of all else in the task before him; and this 
 not the less truly if the work were thrown off with spirit 
 and zest. 
 
 Amundsen may have enjoyed his expedition to the South 
 Pole ; but he traversed the route ; he did not sit in a public- 
 house talking of the ease with which such a journey could 
 be accomplished. Nor did Shakespeare spend his time, or 
 at any rate all his time, drinking sack in Cheapside, and 
 in a half-witted manner, without great attention, composing 
 masterpieces. 
 
 He does not seem to have attached much importance to 
 his works in his later years ; but we hear of this only by 
 vague report. Even if it were true, it would only prove 
 that the disposition of a man at one period of his life must 
 not be taken to indicate his character at another. Or it 
 might indicate a vicarious authorship, as of a Shakespeare 
 who was the repository, and the stage-manager, for the 
 works of diverse men of talent who brought to him plays 
 for representation, subject to the conditions of his theatre. 
 Any one of these suppositions is feasible. What is not 
 possible is that he should have accomplished the work with- 
 out the expenditure of the energy necessary on the route ; 
 and it is impossible that such energy should have been 
 expended without the purpose, the temp>erament, the keen 
 and intimate realization point by point of the situation — the 
 feeling the play demanded. 
 
 That granted, then the greater the facility the greater 
 the efficiency ; and the greater the efficiency the greater the 
 economy of work and the higher the genius. 
 
 At this point we may consider one of Herbert Spencer's 
 conclusions that one of the standards of ethics is the 
 '* mass " of life. That is to say, the largeness of the in- 
 dividual life and the extent of the population. The sug- 
 gestion arose in Spencer's mind from the analogy of the 
 
ENERGY 153 
 
 physical world, but this conception is only partly in accord 
 with what we have discussed here. Mass is only one of 
 the components of the expression in the mechanical sense 
 of energy, the other being a function of velocity. In the 
 special branch of physics which deals with electrical pheno- 
 mena, we have energy expressed as dependent on current 
 and voltage. 
 
 What is there in the moral world that corresponds ? The 
 answer requires a little circumspection, for nothing could be 
 more fallacious than to draw analogies too closely, and 
 without examining the reasoning step by step, between two 
 widely separated fields.^ 
 
 That there is a connexion between the physical and moral 
 world has been made in part the basis of this present work, 
 but at a level at which the arguments that are valid are 
 readily deducible, viz., that as our struggle to live lies with 
 the forces of nature, the greater the knowledge of natural 
 phenomena and their sequences, the better shall we be able 
 to adjust our actions in order to make those forces sub- 
 servient to our needs. But from that ground we cannot at 
 once leap to the point of saying that as mass is important in 
 physical science, therefore we may accept it as a sufficient 
 standard in ethics. x\t best these analogies are sometimes 
 helpful by way of their suggestions. 
 
 With energy we are on a different footing, for that 
 involves not only mass but also velocity, and gives us the 
 measure of work. 
 
 Without insisting on any close analogy, we say that 
 from the reasoning in this chapter itself we must associate 
 with "mass " of life, or volume of life, the attribute derived 
 from complexity of development, and eventually of develop- 
 ment of intellectual power. 
 
 That is evidently the quality most precious, both in the 
 sense of being valuable itself and of being rare and not to be 
 reproduced at will, in its higher manifestations. 
 
 This complexity of development which should be asso- 
 
 * In this way we should arrive iat such results as those contained 
 in a work which enjoyed great celebrity rather for its weakness than 
 for its strong points — "Natural Law in the Spiritual World " — and by 
 processes of loose reasoning of the kind false conclusions may be 
 reached. 
 
154 ETHICS 
 
 ciated with "mass" of life should be a complexity related 
 to, and serving" to interpret, natural laws. 
 
 Let us see how this standard may be made use of. In 
 the world about us we often see great activity which we 
 esteem to be at a comparatively low level. The work of 
 making" a concordance, for example, to Milton's poems is 
 of a lower level than of the composition of the works them- 
 selves, though the actual physical labour may be greater. 
 We recognize that as soon as the intention is formed of 
 writing a concordance the formula is fairly simple, and the 
 work consists of a patient carrying out of the processes, 
 but without any special new effort of thought. Once the 
 nature of the work becomes clearly indicated, thousands of 
 intelligent persons could be procured to perform it, but it 
 would not be possible, even by promising large rewards, or 
 by dint of adding toil to toil, to produce a Miltonic poem. 
 
 In the days of the Incas, again, there was a system of 
 conveying fresh fish from the sea to the capital, some hun- 
 dred and fifty miles inland, by relays of runners. Here was 
 a great expenditure of energy, but at a low level. Men 
 for such a task could be supplied from any large section, 
 but the means of conveying far greater loads over the same 
 route by railway in a fifth of the time required a preliminary 
 exercise of intellect that could not be commanded. 
 
 We shall be helped to estimate the relative value of 
 efforts by taking a new pyoint of view. 
 
 In foreign countries one gets sometimes a better per- 
 spective in which to view the merit of work than in one's 
 own. 
 
 In studying, for example, the course of development of 
 a science a thinker in a foreign country would be principally 
 desirous of tracing out the links that had been successfully 
 added, and he would be interested to know to whom the 
 advance was due. In the country concerned it might happen 
 that one of those who had contributed some important 
 achievement might remain almost unknown, while the read- 
 ing public might have an inflated appreciation of the value 
 of books that had been recommended, not for essential merit, 
 but because of the position, the title, or the academic 
 authority of the writer. 
 
 It happens accordingly that each generation sees a great 
 
ENERGY 155 
 
 output of intellectual work, and that the relative values often 
 become distorted in the perspective. In a generation or two, 
 when the adventitious aids to fame no longer operate, and 
 when out of the mass of work it is sought to disengage 
 something both original and helpful, then a new set of values 
 begins to show. 
 
 Thus in Germany I once heard in an account of the 
 development of the science of light the name of Dollond, 
 an optician in Cheapside, mentioned with great respect for 
 some good work in reducing the diffraction of lenses, while 
 at the same time a great many names that had been cele- 
 brated were passed over because in the last resoit they 
 represented nothing new and true. 
 
 Consider the work of Gladstone, apart from such 
 political activities as resulted directly in legislation. He 
 produced many books which, on account of his position, 
 attained high reputation during his lifetime. Now that he 
 is dead, how muchi remains vital of that output? Very little. 
 Gladstone's mind was not one of great originality ; his 
 ethical system was conventional and superficial. He owed 
 his authority and his influence to his very limitations, for 
 they enabled him to utter, though with great eloquence, the 
 sentiments and the prejudices of the mass of the people. 
 He has added nothing to our understanding of the ways of 
 thought. 
 
 We have already seen in our review of famous ethical 
 systems that the test must be a|>plied ruthlessly, and that of 
 that vast material which may have served a purpose in its 
 day and which afterwards encumbered the route, little of 
 durable value remains. 
 
 And these considerations lead us to a criterion for judging 
 the effective energy of a work ; and that is that it corresponds 
 to a mental development of a high degree of complexity, 
 when that complexity has been worked out in corresfK)ndence 
 with the conditions of the external world. 
 
 We shall see how the principles we have discussed tell in 
 some great test, such as war between nations, but as a 
 preliminary step we may review our results and express 
 them in terms of ethical directives. For this purpose we will 
 
156 ETHICS 
 
 use the division into physical, mental, moral faculties, 
 although the separation is somewhat artificial, for there is a 
 mutual dependence of the respective activities. 
 
 The physical energy of the individual depends eventually 
 on the energy of the component parts of his body, and these 
 in turn derive from the energy of the physical constitution of 
 the objective world ; and if our knowledge of physics, of 
 chemistry, and physiology were high enough we could trace 
 out in these terms the whole of the processes involved. We 
 are far indeed from having attained so complete a scientific 
 grasp of the subject, so that we are compelled to fall back 
 on certain subsidiary guides which sum up a myriad of 
 forces and processes. One of these is health; and that in 
 turn involves appropriate conditions of exercise and nutrition ; 
 and those conditions are in part included in the virtue of 
 temperance. 
 
 Over and above normal health we find robustness and 
 hardiness, and these are desirable attributes that the customs 
 of our civilization tend to sap and destroy. The primeval 
 man whose food was obtained in a more hazardous manner 
 and at less regular intervals, had an excellent digestion ; 
 but in our modern communities, with their habits of 
 effeminacy, self-indulgence, and mollified sensualities, the 
 pleasures of the senses have been blunted and the fibre has 
 been rendered soft and little resistant.^ 
 
 Discussion of Bnergy on the Intellectual Side 
 
 In the mental world we have, in an analogous way, need 
 of exercise and nutriment. This indication points to educa- 
 tion, and thence to the establishment of schools of gradually 
 rising grades, and then universities. It also points to the 
 advisability of cultivating at our universities the main 
 
 * In South Africa I observed extraordinary recoveries from wounds 
 caused, for instance, by bullets passing through the chest, particularly 
 in the case of men accustomed to live a free, out-of-door life under 
 favourable conditions. I use the word "extraordinary " by comparison 
 with what I have observed amongst populations in large towns, especi- 
 ally those whose fibres were sapped with alcohol ; but the cases of 
 quick-healing and recovery should rather be regarded as the normal, 
 and the low physical quality of the other should be recognized as due 
 to preventable causes. It is therefore one of the practical indications 
 of a good system of morality to trace out these causes of decadence 
 and to eliminate them. 
 
ENERGY 157 
 
 scientific subjects. On the frontal of all such institutions of 
 learning- I would be inclined to write, following Plato : " Let 
 no one unacquainted with mathematics enter here," but on 
 reflection I yield to arguments which have force at the 
 present degree of our development. 
 
 In the first place, although our division of the science is 
 arbitrary, it is necessary at present so as to allow of due 
 concentration of the faculties on a manageable field. It 
 happens, therefore, that a student who would find his time 
 wasted in mathematics might be excellent in sciences such as 
 botany or bacteriology. 
 
 Mathematics is also \ery often badly taught, as by 
 teachers with a good technical knowledge of the subject but 
 without understanding either of psychology or of the re- 
 lation of their science to the great body of knowledge. It 
 thus happens that a boy who up to the age of fifteen has 
 employed his brains on literary subjects, and who has had 
 his world of associations and interests enlarged and his 
 energy stimulated, may subsequently do better at mathe- 
 matics than one who has been drilled in that discipline too 
 exclusively. 
 
 The science of mathematics, when properly taught I 
 repeat, becomes fascinating, and it gives access to great 
 domains of science which without its help possess little 
 meaning. Darwin, who regretted in his old age that he had 
 not been trained in mathematics, remarked that it seemed to 
 give another sense. 
 
 Of still greater importance than mathematics is 
 psychology, that is tO' say, when it is expounded in such a 
 manner as to show how all modes of thought may be built, 
 and that this psychology interpenetrates into every domain of 
 science. 
 
 The physical sciences — mechanics, chemistry, for 
 example — and the biological sciences from physiology to 
 bacteriology, find a sufficient recommendation nowadays in 
 the citation of their material results ; but they also have a 
 value in the training of the mind. 
 
 Compared with an education on such lines, that of mere 
 classical learning is so meagre that we have to seek for some 
 other grounds for its continuance than the advantage to the 
 individual or the State. 
 
158 ETHICS 
 
 Classic learning- was rightly held in high esteem at one 
 time, for in the days of the Renaissance it was almost like a 
 revelation of nature; it introduced the students to works of 
 science and of literature far suj>erior to those otherwise avail- 
 able. Since that time, however, the science of the ancients 
 has been far surpassed. 
 
 The literature of the Greeks was perhaps only less 
 wonderful than their science and their sculpture, but, as in 
 the case of all literature, it evaporates a good deal in transla- 
 tion. To taste it at the source is excellent, but that requires 
 an intimate knowledge such as is obtained by not one out of 
 a dozen experts, and not at all by the vast majority of the 
 students who spend years in the preliminary work of learning 
 the language according to the most difficult and arid 
 methods. 
 
 Then, at best, a knowledge of literature is something that 
 belongs to the order of stimulation and pleasure rather than 
 to that of the nutriment that helps to develop the mind. If 
 our modern civilization, moreover, has any superior signifi- 
 cance at all, the literature that relates to it and illustrates it 
 should be of a quality as much superior to that of the ancients 
 as our science is superior to theirs. That is not the case, I 
 acknowledge, but the remedy must be sought less in the 
 imitation of the classics than in the development of our own 
 minds turned upon the realities of our actual life. I would 
 look to a great literature produced in a community where 
 science was fostered rather than in one in which the study of 
 literature itself was exclusively pursued.^ 
 
 In our day, too, since we boast that we are the heirs of 
 the ages, we pay a tax for that heritage. It has seemed a 
 part of a high education that we should be made acquainted 
 not only with our own literature, but with that of the 
 ancients, as well as the products of foreign countries. This 
 is a tax, because though the pursuit of literature be a delight, 
 yet when it is imposed upon us as a task, and the burden we 
 have to bear is proportioned to the mass of material, then 
 
 ^ Had I need of authority, I could quote here with pleasure the 
 words of Anatole France, who is not only one of the world's great 
 writers, but also a philosopher in whose clear and sparkling writing 
 the peculiar genius of the French is admirably shown. He said that 
 science without letters is mechanical and barren, but that literature 
 without science is hollow and futile. 
 
ENERGY 159 
 
 even the pleasures of literature may be irksome. Such 
 training is not necessary even for culture in literature. It 
 seems an artless expression, yet it has significance, that 
 Sophocles was ignorant of Shakespeare, and that Shakespeare 
 himself had never read Voltaire or Zola, or the gems of our 
 own Poet Laureates. Yet both Shakespeare and Sophocles 
 produced literature which is the admiration and the despair of 
 many to whom the modern as well as the ancient works are 
 familiar. On the whole, I can think of no more enervating 
 education than that of a high course in literature without 
 some compensating balance, either in science or in the exer- 
 cise of good common sense. Such a literature continually 
 pulling at the passions and stimulating the emotions is like a 
 spiritual alcohol in place of the less exciting honest oatmeal 
 of thought on which strong characters should be built. 
 
 These remarks are not apart from the subject of ethics, 
 for they strike directly into important practical application. 
 During the Great War we were led, especially on the political 
 side, by men whose training had, for the most part, been 
 that of the public schools, of which the strong suit is the 
 classics. These men had, many of ithem, very high reputa- 
 tions before the war, and had there been no war, in other 
 words had they not been tested, they would have gone to 
 their graves, perhaps to Westminster Abbey, lauded as great 
 statesmen and high exemplars of the human race.^ 
 
 If the matter were examined in all its aspects, including 
 the whole course of events which contributed to make the 
 war inevitable, then the lesson would be seen to be still more 
 striking. If one-hundredth part of the millions, or even a 
 
 1 I do not mean to say here that Peace does not test the calibre 
 of statesmen ; I only mean that as the results are longer in their 
 production and are less obvious, it is possible for a statesman to 
 lead his country to the brink of disaster, and yet enjoy a high 
 character for statesmanship, especially of the order of prudence. I 
 have seen the shores of great nations strewn with the wreckage of 
 the prudent man. 
 
 In war, all actions are accelerated, and results are produced in a 
 much shorter time, so that the connexion between cause and effect 
 becomes visible to the populace. And so it happened that the nation 
 was brought to the verge of disaster, that endless millions of trea- 
 sure, and hundreds of thousands of lives, were squandered as a 
 tribute to the incapacity of our leaders, and that incapacity rested on 
 an education that was faulty both from the side of development of 
 intellect and of that of the formation of character. 
 
i6o ETHICS 
 
 thousandth part of that treasure which was poured out 
 during* the war, had been spent before the war in the exten- 
 sion of scientific education, and in the fostering of research, 
 in the giving finally to science in the perspective of our 
 social life an enormously g-reater part than hitherto, then 
 various circumstances which led to the Great War would 
 have been obviated. 
 
 Here, then, is another great lesson illustrating on the 
 mental side the ethical importance of energy. 
 
 Discussion of Energy on the Moral Side 
 
 The last division under which we have to discuss this 
 question is that of the moral side. We find energy here 
 represented in various guises, all of a bold and forward 
 aspect. When we speak of energy in this p(lace we have 
 a vision of the aspects of courage, confidence, driving power, 
 and will. 
 
 These faculties or powers are often regarded almost as 
 entities possessed by the individual. They are all really 
 subtle, and at times even mercurial, qualities. Courage, 
 for example, is quite a plastic quality. The power of cultiva- 
 tion of courage is extraordinary, especially when the training 
 is extended over a long period, and has become kneaded into 
 the personality of the man by habit and discipline. I have 
 seen courage grow progressively with the ability to use the 
 instruments of offence and defence. A raw, untrained youth 
 may be above the average in courage, but he feels a certain 
 timidity from lack of confidence in his own ability. Then 
 he learns to ride and shoot, and generally to become 
 acquainted with the work of a soldier. He may develop at 
 length into a hero. Even then he is liable to sudden failures. 
 I have seen the men who on one occasion have fought like 
 lions, on another occasion run like sheep. 
 
 Will-power is not a completed gift nor a dead possession. 
 It is something that arises out of the whole fibre and 
 character, and its manifestations are greatly dependent on 
 education. The boldest man will hesitate if he is face to 
 face with a situation of which he knows nothing, while 
 another of much less resolute character, who "knows the 
 ropes," may act with promptitude and decision. A surgeon, 
 for example, who has a complete knowledge of anatomy, and 
 
ENERGY i6i 
 
 who through long- habit has become acquainted with his own 
 powers, may press on determinedly in a severe operation, 
 where one unaccustomed to such sights would be dismayed 
 by the danger and by the ghastly appearance of the patient. 
 
 I have here taken merely a vivid example, but this may 
 be easily transformed into other spheres. A general who has 
 thought out all his plans and who has assured himself that 
 victory will follow their realization, will be carried on by the 
 sheer support of his intellect to fight out on his own lines, 
 even though he may not be naturally a man of strong will- 
 power; on the other hand, a man of strong will-power who 
 plunges into the dark and blunders here and there, without 
 being able to estimate the magnitude of the forces at work, 
 soon becomes irresolute and liable to be disconcerted. 
 
 Marbot, in his "Memoirs of the Napoleonic Wars," tells 
 a story, which has an amusing side, and which illustrates 
 what we have said. During the Russian campaign 
 Nap>oleon had left the command to a trusted officer, Oudinot, 
 whom he had lately nominated as marshal. Under him was 
 serving General St. Cyr, a man of greater intellectual power, 
 but who had not received the marshal's bdton. The French 
 army began to get into difficulties, and Oudinot was forced 
 to come to his subordinate for advice. Every time his 
 opinion was asked, however, St. Cyr contented himself with 
 taking off his hat with a bow of deference, and saying : 
 "Monsieur le marechal ! " Oudinot became exasperated, 
 and losing his head and his will-power at the same time 
 plunged into the thick of the fight himself, and was lucky 
 enough to receive a slight wound. He then retired and left 
 the direction of affairs to St. Cyr who, though naturally of a 
 less determined character than Oudinot, had fortified his 
 will-power by his intelligence. He immediately took steps 
 which altered the disposition of the forces, and gained a 
 brilliant victory. 
 
 Von Moltke had neither the temperament nor the appear- 
 ance of a man of iron will, but his intelligent plans in the 
 Franco-German war brought victory so consistently that he 
 carried them determinedly to the end. In the last Great 
 War, when Foch was called to the Supreme Command at a 
 critical moment, he did not allow his judgment to be swept 
 away by his sheer fighting quality, he rather made his will 
 
i62 ETHICS 
 
 the servant of his intellect. Like a student he thought out 
 the moves, which ithoug-h bold and daring to the view of 
 other officers, had to his mind less that aspect than the 
 sense of efficiency. He weakened his force in the line of the 
 German advance and accumulated the reserves thus provided 
 on the flank of the Germans. At a critical moment their 
 progress was arrested, even by their difficulties of com- 
 munication. Then Foch smote them with all his strength on 
 the flank, and recognizing that the time for the supreme 
 decision had come, he gave orders to carry out the most 
 determined fighting right along the line. 
 
 The strategy and tactics here involved seem to me less 
 illustrative of mere will-jx>wer than of keen intelligence 
 applied to an objective problem, partly of a physical and 
 partly of a psychological nature. 
 
 Before applying all these lessons to the deep events which 
 try a nation's strength, a word must be said by way of 
 circumspection. I have spoken, even with asperity, of the 
 orthodox ideals of education. The question may be asked, 
 however : How is it that men deficient in true education and 
 devoid of greatness of character rise to high positions of 
 influence and authority? 
 
 It is quite possible that an individual may profit from his 
 very defects. Let us take a striking illustration. In the 
 community of Flathead Indians the young brave who by 
 some chance had escaped the customs of the tribe, and had 
 preserved a normal head, would not be more highly esteemed 
 by his fellow-tribesmen on that account. He would prob- 
 ably be tomahawked amid the righteous indignation of the 
 community, while, in vindication of the greatness of the Flat- 
 head tribe, the flattest of all would be carried to the seats of 
 the mighty so that he might rule in authority. Or, again, 
 take the Masai tribe of South African blacks. They have a 
 traditional custom of compressing the calf muscles of the leg. 
 The young Masais who show such credentials as an 
 attenuated calf are naturally preferred to those who are well- 
 grown and normal. Finally, consider the ordinances of the 
 old Mandarin class in China. They used to obtain their 
 positions of governors of provinces, not from any acquaint- 
 ance with those provinces, or any kind of knowledge what- 
 ever of administrative skill, or of any kind of economy, 
 
ENERGY 163 
 
 political or domestic. This was not necessary, as their 
 principal function was to rule and to squeeze the taxpayer. 
 Their qualifications were what is called g-ood birth ; that is to 
 say, a derivation from some privileged families, and after 
 that an acquaintance with a literature which was antique even 
 in Old China. 
 
 From all these examples, it will be seen that hig^h positions 
 may be attained not in spite of, but because of defects. 
 Where, then, does the ethical sanction come in? Simply in 
 this — ^that those nations again are tested in competition with 
 others ; and every virtue as well as every fault tells its tale 
 duly in the complete account. 
 
 Let us see how this works out in the case of a great war. 
 
 National Energy as Tested by War 
 
 Von Moltke called war an ordinance of God, but this is a 
 professional point of view. I have generally known war 
 praised, either by ambitious officers who have seen in the 
 slaughter of hundreds of thousands an avenue to rapid 
 promotion, or by a certain type of literar}' men and school- 
 masters who delight in the vicarious strength which seems 
 to emanate from this kind of violence. 
 
 I have seen war, and I have been shocked almost more by 
 the stupidity which it enthrones than by its actual destructive- 
 ness. And so when Von Moltke, who was a thougfhtful and 
 patient war organizer rather than an inspired leader of men, 
 seeks to pose as a philosopher and claim a special inspiration 
 in the interpretation of the mind of God, I feel entitled to 
 ask for his credentials. One fact is sufficient to make me 
 question the immediate intervention of God in carrying" out 
 this ordinance, and that is the singfular choice of victors 
 that we meet with at times. 
 
 And yet as between nations fairly well matched in 
 strength war is a gfreat test, a marvellous judgment whose 
 probing questions go deep to the very sources of the nation's 
 vitality and greatness. Every element of strength and every 
 element of weakness tells in the account; and this kind of 
 stock-taking is none the less effective as being indirect and 
 unconscious. 
 
 Consider a concrete case at once in order to fix the ideas. 
 Two soldiers are in the trenches at the same time. In the 
 
i64 ETHICS 
 
 old days when the armies met face to face and fought with 
 lances or battle-axes, or the like, personal prowess counted 
 for a good deal, and personal prowess meant muscular 
 activity, good eyesight, staying power, and esi>ecially train- 
 ing in the use of the instruments of combat. But nowadays 
 when men are often killed at long range by projectiles fired 
 by others who again do not see their opponents, it is said 
 that the personal qualities count for less. 
 
 This, I think, is a fallacious notion. 
 
 Two men in the trenches, let us say, will be subjected to 
 an immense bombardment. The noise, the concussion and 
 the prolonged character of the disturbance are all factors that 
 tend to depress the nervous system. Of the two soldiers he 
 that has the most unstable organism will be the first to 
 succumb to this ordeal alone. 
 
 As to the question of the courage demanded for war, I 
 think that the modern soldier must have a better morale 
 relatively than the ancient fighter. In the days when an 
 army, or a large force, charged in a block, the individual 
 soldier was carried along with his comrades and to some 
 extent protected by them. In the fights in the open, within a 
 circumscribed area and under the eye of the commander, 
 when a great prize — perhaps as at Hastings, a whole 
 country — was lost or won in a few hours, there were great 
 incentives to fight, the most powerful of the moral motives 
 being possibly the love of approbation. 
 
 The modern soldier, when he fights in close formation, 
 has to face engines of destructiveness enormously greater 
 than of old, and when rank after rank withers and wastes he 
 must still press on. If he fights in open order he has still 
 great dangers to face, and he has less the sense of cohesion 
 with and encouragement from his fellows. 
 
 In the trenches, especially at night, and when he can 
 appreciate the immense force of the attack and yet cannot 
 see his comrades in mass, he must make a greater demand 
 on his resources of courage and duty than in the melee of a 
 hand-to-hand conflict. 
 
 When the intense cold of winter sets in the two soldiers 
 have not an equal chance of survival. One of them has been 
 a countryman, used to hard work on a farm, and content 
 with little comfort ; he has always kept early hours, and he 
 
ENERGY 165 
 
 has not been addicted to alcohol. The other has been a 
 town-dweller. He has sat in an office in a foggy city for 
 the g-reater part of the day, often working- by artificial light, 
 and he has returned home by underground trains in which 
 the atmosphere is often chargred with the germs of phthisis. 
 At night he has frequented cinemas or theatres, or public- 
 house bars; and he has kept late hours habitually. His de- 
 pressed nervous system has craved for stimulation, and he 
 has found that in whisky. 
 
 Of the two men, which is the more likely to succumb 
 when the stress of great hardship comes ; when every organ 
 of the body is being tried; when the brain, the heart, the 
 kidneys are being sounded and searched incessantly ; when 
 the germs of bronchitis or pneumonia are rife in the 
 trenches ? The chances here are not even ; the rotten fibres 
 of the alcoholic subject will give way under an ordeal that 
 the healthy man will hardly feel. 
 
 If a shell bursts and blows the men to pieces, then, in- 
 deed — and here is the incident of stupidity in war — the noble, 
 the bold, the intelligent and good goes under as certainly 
 as the debauched, the wicked and the mean. But suppose 
 both men are wounded, and not vitally — are the chances the 
 same? Not at all. One man may recover in a couple of 
 months and be fit for duty again, when another may fall a 
 victim to a series of complications that render him an invalid 
 for ever. 
 
 Difference of acuteness of sight in the two soldiers will 
 tell either in sniping, or in avoiding beings sniped, and in a 
 hundred other ways during- a campaig-n ; if not in any one 
 individual case, certainly in the aggregate. The acuteness 
 of all the senses, the general alertness and activity, are all 
 factors that modify mere chance. Muscular activity and 
 strength and endurance all tell their tale, either in an assault 
 as at Cambrai, or in a long retreat often without food as 
 from Mons. 
 
 If now leaving the question of physique we enter upon 
 the psychic field, and consider the question of courage, sense 
 of duty, discipline and the like, we find that in these respects 
 any two soldiers are not alike, or, in other words, that the 
 value of an army is not to be summed up by the numerical 
 indication of its fighting strength. The ultimate analysis 
 
i66 ETHICS 
 
 of courage would lead deep down to questions of race and 
 history and heredity; questions of mode of life, practice in 
 war, or in some activities demanding great output of energy 
 in hazardous circumstances; questions of food, and of in- 
 dividual education and training; questions of health and 
 efficiency at the moment of trial. 
 
 Discipline and the sense of duty depend on education 
 from an early age, followed by special training, all immersed 
 in the atmosphere of respect and obedience to laws which 
 constitute examples of " authoritative association " for each 
 ?nd for all. 
 
 These soldier-like sentiments are modified, and in some 
 cases fortified, by the affections associated with the home 
 of the soldier, and here the strong influence is not that of 
 force or violence, but of the gentle and tender memories that 
 cling round the earliest impressions of life. The force of 
 these depends on the condition and on the whole history of 
 the country as found in its results. 
 
 Then we come to the actual weapons. Here the most 
 formidable engines of destruction are but the concrete ex- 
 pression of the results of scientific work which might have 
 a hundred other applications than those of destruction. The 
 famous French ".75," for instance, was not the invention 
 of any one man. Apart from resting on the basis of the 
 previous examples of cannon of high efficiency, it has a com- 
 plete history of its own, which is fascinating as showing 
 intelligent minds at work solving questions presented as 
 problems of mechanics and puzzles of ingenuity. The in- 
 vention of smokeless powder is accessory to that of the 
 modern guns, and this was a problem of chemistry which 
 had in itself no immediate reference to wholesale slaughter. 
 
 Moreover, the whole of the questions involved in the in- 
 vention and in the gradual perfecting of such a machine as 
 the ".75 " are not those of technical science alone. Two 
 generations of officers had employed their talents on this 
 fabrication, and that fact implied qualities of organization, 
 foresight and continuity of purpose in the military estab- 
 lishments concerned. 
 
 Here, again, we have an instance where an event which 
 seems to depend on the arbitrament of brute force, has really 
 tested fine and delicate qualities which have roots in the 
 
ENERGY 167 
 
 mental capacity and in the moral power of a series of 
 individuals. 
 
 The inventiveness produced by the actual exigencies of 
 the war itself was remarkable; but the inventions were not 
 the outcome of the mere strong will to win ; they rested on a 
 scientific education and technical training. 
 
 An immense impulsion was given by the war to the 
 development of aeroplanes, submarines, and means of wire- 
 less telegraphy.^ 
 
 We may leave that aspect of things at present in order 
 to touch for a moment on a sphere of another order, but of 
 which the activities were necessary in order to make the rest 
 of the work effective. During the war there was in this 
 country an enormous extension of the output of munitions, 
 and in the United States of shipbuilding. This work was 
 to some extent improvised, for it was demanded by the 
 immediate dangers of the situation, but the improvisation 
 was only possible because it rested on a basis of a great 
 and well organized industrial life. That organization, imply- 
 ing a government within a government, depended on control 
 and adaptation of energies, and adjustments of efforts and of 
 benefits of an exceedingly complex character, but of which 
 the factors dipped deeply into the moral constitution of the 
 populace. 
 
 Apart from such a social organization, but associated 
 with it, arrives the question of the relation of the citizen or 
 the soldier in respect to its form of government. The old 
 imperialistic and autocratic form of government, such as 
 prevailed in Russia and in Germany, had been praised on 
 account of its strength and stability. It was conceded that 
 there were features of this mode of government which were 
 shocking to the instincts of free men, but a compensation 
 was found in the fact of greater efficiency, especially in war. 
 The war tested that principle and found it wanting. The 
 Russian Government fell in sheer rottenness, and the revolt 
 
 ^ Professor J. A. Fleming, for example, devised a signalling ap- 
 paratus destined to solve the problem of showing a light visible to 
 friends but not to enemies. The light he employed was polarized by a 
 polarizing prism, but looked at through a telescope provided with 
 another prism it would be seen twinkling like ordinary light, or would 
 be cut off, according as the first prism became suitably rotated. 
 
i68 ETHICS 
 
 against the system of Kaiserdom was the immediate cause 
 of the collapse of the German fighting- force. 
 
 In 1870 the French troops had been badly led, and they 
 were fighting for a system which most of them desired to 
 see ended. In 1914, and in the subsequent years of the war, 
 the defence of the Republic heartened the citizen soldiers to 
 displays of heroism which surpassed all that French history 
 had known. 
 
 If we pursue this mode of examination we sliall find that 
 everything that appertains to national energy has been 
 touched upon in the course of the war. Even the fondness 
 for games and sports had its direct influence, both by form- 
 ing a bond of union among the men and by giving zest and 
 spirit at times during an attack. 
 
 But that being so, it may be objected that in the realm 
 on which great stress has been laid, that of science, the 
 Germans were superior. Before the war they had for every 
 highly trained chemist in England five hundred in Germany, 
 and their scientific education and organization had enabled 
 them to capture a long series of key industries, such as the 
 manufactures of optical glass and apparatus for electrical 
 measurements. 
 
 The answer is that the Germans did profit by this part 
 of their superiority, and up to its full measure. But in a 
 war, as in the display of all great natural phenomena, the 
 results are as if nature sat aloft as an arbiter, noting every- 
 thing and entering everything dispassionately in a book of 
 records, on the credit or debit side, and that the decisive 
 balance is struck when the whole is complete. 
 
 Thus, while the Germans profited by their exact science, 
 they failed in that sphere where subtle tacts and flashes of 
 wit and inspiration have play. They worked patiently and 
 laboriously ; they organized magnificently ; but when the 
 machine became disarranged, or when they were suddenly 
 presented with unforeseen conditions, they lacked initiative, 
 and they failed to produce such master strokes as that of 
 Foch's last attack. 
 
 They failed in the understanding of other peoples, and 
 this defect had the result, with which they had not reckoned, 
 of producing step by step a series of new enemies. 
 
 Then the Germans sufi^ered from a cardinal defect in the 
 
ENERGY 169 
 
 ethical standards of government, a defect which affected 
 every one of the belligerents, but which was especially con- 
 spicuous with them. 
 
 Even now, when we have touched the physical, mental 
 and moral side of nations and races and extended our 
 analysis even to the depths in these matters, we have not 
 exhausted the considerations on which the decision of a great 
 international conflict depvends. There are also the physical 
 factors of nature to be considered; the resources of the 
 respective countries, and the facility for tapping also the 
 resources of other countries accessible to them,; even the 
 geography of the respective countries. AH these factors 
 have importance, and moreover, though the questions of 
 race and institutions and education tell, yet the decision is 
 giveti not to those as gross capital, but in the manner in 
 which they work out on specific occasions in which another 
 factor, which we call chance, but which means the serene 
 movement of nature, undiverted by their strife, operates in 
 mysterious style. 
 
 In all this the judgments, aspirations or ethical stan- 
 dards of the competitors have their proper weight, but no 
 more. Nature, which gave the Germans credit for their 
 organizing power, placed rather to the debit side their false 
 interpretation of Darwinism, for that error tended to produce 
 arrogance and brutality ; nature gave to the Allies the full 
 credit for courage and resource, while making us pay in 
 mountains of money and rivers of blood for the favourite 
 doctrine of the advantage of illogical reason. 
 
 Myriad factors have thus been contributing to the final 
 outcome of what in one aspect of the clash of forces might 
 be regarded as a trial of energy. 
 
 The present chapter may be thus briefly summarized : 
 Energy as a principle of ethics reaches deep as the con- 
 stitution of the world itself. The principles of energy and 
 truth are inseparably linked. They lead inevitably to high 
 standards, as, for example, in giving us the criterion for 
 judging of the value of the thinking faculty. They indicate 
 generalization as the mark of a high mind. They point the 
 way to the development of the mind. They indicate that 
 
170 ETHICS 
 
 thoughts so obtained should have directive power in ethics. 
 They call attention to the fact that, apart from our own 
 sentiments and emotions, we find objectively a great guiding 
 force in the movement of the world itself. Energy must be 
 looked upK)n as an attitude affecting every form of activity, 
 and, accordingly, when a great output of material energy is 
 called for, as in war, the principle is found to touch upon all 
 the elements, physical, mental, moral, of the community. 
 If no other proof were required of the value of energy, as 
 a great principle of ethics, it would be found in that great 
 test of validity, the survival of those, other things being 
 equal, who adopt that principle. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Sympathy 
 
 The next great principle that we have posited Is Sympathy. 
 This is not a mere question of sentiment which the *' strong- 
 sons of earth " are entitled in their superiority to treat 
 with amused indulgence or active contempt. It is really 
 a high poetic feeling; it is the source of nearly all poetry. 
 
 Sympathy implies understanding, and it enlarges the 
 mind to the comprehension of many matters otherwise hid. 
 It has its foundation deep down in the very structure of the 
 world itself, for it is associated from the first with co-opera- 
 tion, and we are so constituted physically, mentally and 
 morally, and so circumstanced in the world, that work in 
 community is a principle of mutual benefit to those who 
 co-operate. 
 
 From this principle arises the establishment of the family, 
 the tribe, the state, the association of states. Within the 
 state Sympathy gives the great cohesive force; it is the 
 main condition of the assimilative power of the state. It is 
 the fount of inspiration in poetry, in the drama, and in all 
 the arts ; and by the adornments and embellishments they 
 bestow upon the national life Sympathy Is again fostered 
 and developed. 
 
 When we study communities of insects, as bees or ants, 
 we find that, however impressed, there is a sense of co-opera- 
 tion. This we impute to instinct, but that fact does not 
 differentiate such activities, except in degree, from; our own. 
 I have shown * that at a certain level all our acts, even 
 the most delicate acts of thought, are instinctive, or 
 spontaneous. 
 
 It may be the case that no particular bee has a clear 
 idea of the total plan, nor of the co-ordination of functions 
 
 Mn " Psychology : A New System." 
 171 
 
172 ETHICS 
 
 of all the others. Hence I have heard a man of science 
 say that the bee is not intellig^ent as an individual, but that 
 the community of bees is intelligent. 
 
 In this respect the bees do not differ, except in degree, 
 from ourselves. We have already seen many examples, as 
 in the case of the development of wireless telegraphy, where 
 the co-operation of a great many workers, or thinkers, was 
 necessary to arrive at the final elaboration of the apparatus. 
 The work of these men of science was not all consciously 
 directed to any end of the kind, and most of them indeed 
 had no suggestion even of such possible applications of 
 these results. 
 
 Again, in the discussion of the factors on which success 
 in war depends, we found that not only is the co-operation of 
 an immense number of people necessary, but that the co- 
 operation may be in spheres that have only an indirect and 
 remote connexion with each other. It may happen, and in 
 practice often does happen, that of two great functions, both 
 essential, and both destined eventually to aid the general 
 co-operation, the representatives mistrust or despjise each 
 other, and seek when they come into contact to be in- 
 jurious to each other. Not only is the man of intellect often 
 at loggerheads with the man of action, though thought 
 should inform action, but two men of action in different 
 spheres seek to diminish each other's Importance. The 
 "matelots," as the man-of-wars' men call themselves, dislike 
 the marines, as landlubbers, and the feeling is reciprocated, 
 for the land troops like them no better. One regiment some- 
 times carries on a feud with another. In the intellectual 
 sphere Goethe somewhere speaks of the metaphysician who 
 had a sort of philosophical vendetta against mathematicians.* 
 
 The examples usually given of the value of co-operation 
 are those of card making, or pin making. Often the process 
 is described as an illustration of the advantage of specializa- 
 tion ; but it calls into evidence the fact that specialism has in 
 
 * Even two mathematicians, pursuing different branches, may detest 
 each other's work. An amusing instance of this was in the quarrel 
 between Steiner and Pliicker, both men of genius, both men who gave 
 a great impulsion to mathematical study, and yet who tailed to 
 appreciate each other. Steiner once declared that he would refuse 
 to write for a mathematical magazine if Pliicker continued to publish 
 in it his theorems and theories. 
 
SYMPATHY 173 
 
 itself no use unless the results of it be afterwards woven 
 into the scheme of co-operation. Such examples are im- 
 pressive, for the whole of the operations can be seen under 
 the eye at once ; but the most interesting and instructive 
 examples are those where the co-operation is hidden. 
 
 From what we have already discussed, of course, it is 
 easy to rise to the certitude that in a community none of our 
 acts, good or bad, is lost, but that, even though we 
 cannot trace out the incidence, each tells according to its 
 value. 
 
 So far from all the minds of the community having an 
 intelligent appreciation of the totality of the work, it should 
 rather be said that nothing is so rare as to find any mind 
 sufficiently comprehensive and plastic to understand the pro- 
 cesses that form social life and co-operate towards its fullest 
 development. I doubt whether such a mind would be appre- 
 ciated in the community, for the most arrogant of people 
 intellectually are those who by specialization have acquired 
 considerable skill in a restricted branch, and who have lost 
 the proper sense of perspective. 
 
 How does this tell in history? 
 
 We have already glanced at the causes of the decline of 
 nations, as, for instance, in the case of Rome, in the lack 
 of high intellectual power keeping pace with the material 
 development of the empire. That conclusion is not in any 
 manner at variance with the statement that one of the causes 
 of the downfall of Rome was deficiency of sympathy. 
 
 The Romans were on the whole wise administrators, and 
 they were tolerant to those who fell under their sway and 
 who accepted their regime. But even that sense of duty 
 and spirit of fortitude that produced some great sculptural 
 characters was bound up with narrow vision, egotism, and 
 brutality. 
 
 It was necessary that the Roman empire should fall 
 in order that the world should become emancipated from^ 
 the rigid doctrines of the Roman world, for the empire 
 as empire did not contain within itself the principles of 
 regeneration. Such a condition of affairs, in as far as 
 peoples are influenced by ethical motives, tends to produce 
 revolutions, and in the history of the world becomes their 
 justification. 
 
174 ETHICS 
 
 The excesses of the emperors, the madness of some of 
 them, aided the process of dissolution, and then amidst a 
 welter of confusion and bloodshed lasting for centuries, and 
 after toil and defeats and searching-s in strange paths, the 
 clear intellectual lights began to emerge which at length 
 guided us to modem forms of civilization. 
 
 The defect of the Greeks was also a lack of Sympathy. 
 At their bloom time the Greeks, even their great thinkers, 
 saw in surrounding peoples a lower kind of human being, 
 incapable of culture and fit only for slavery. It would 
 astonish Aristotle to know that out of these despised races 
 would eventually arise men who would regard some of his 
 fine conceptions as too gross and material, and who, in the 
 development of that science to which he had so nobly devoted 
 his mind, would behold more deeply and widely than he had 
 seen, and by subtle feats of intellect that would have been 
 his delight win new secrets from nature. 
 
 Oruelty 
 
 The discussion of sympathy is linked with that of cruelty. 
 If we denounce cruelty we have the approbation of the great 
 majority, even of those who, in their sports, or in their 
 treatment of enemies or subject people, show harsh and 
 callous dispositions. Every nation has a repugnance to the 
 forms of cruelty associated with others. We go to a bull- 
 fight — we are filled with loathing of the cruelty inflicted upon 
 the poor blindfolded horses, so much so that we lose zest 
 for the brilliant spectacle and refuse our admiration for the 
 cool courage and splendid skill of the matador. But with 
 pride and joy, with an exhilaration that finds its expression 
 in racy, rolling songs, we will chase over the fields not a 
 terrible animal like the Sp>anish fighting bull, but a defence- 
 less fox, harried by p«acks of dogs who, after they have run 
 the wretched beast till he fails from sheer exhaustion, plunge 
 their fangs into his quivering body and tear out his entrails, 
 to the admiration of the brilliant scions of the race. 
 
 The foxhunter's reply is that the fox is *' vermin," but 
 the bestowal of an opprobrious name on the objects of one's 
 cruelty is the most facile and the most unconvincing of 
 arguments. 
 
 The Spaniard may absolve his conscience, but he does 
 
SYMPATHY 175 
 
 not remove the execrable fact, when he derides the wretched 
 horse that he sacrifices to glut his lust for blood. A horse 
 or a bull is a larger specimen of animal life than a fox, but 
 it would lead to strange conclusions if we judged of the 
 capacity for suffering merely by bulk. The horse is killed 
 by the sharp horns of the bull — ** spears," as the toreador 
 calls them — ^and the bull is killed by the sharp sword of the 
 matador aimed at the heart; but if we are to make fine dis- 
 tinctions as to modes of cruelty, it seems to me that these 
 swift instruments are more merciful than the teeth of in- 
 furiated dogs, tearing and mangling the body of their victim 
 till the last quiver of life has gone. 
 
 Still more dubious in morality, if cruelty «and brutality 
 be really faults, is the royal sport of shooting stags. Pic- 
 ture the scene : A beautiful glen in the Highlands ; the early 
 sun beginning to drive shafts of light into the valley, 
 revealing the charm of colour and of form, and sending 
 pulses of glowing life through nature ; the mists on the hills 
 in the further distance rising ; and there into the scene sud- 
 denly stepping a stag, superb in lordly grace. Ping ! The 
 stag, thrown on to its haunches, stares around in surprise, 
 recovers itself, hobbles off on three legs, while the green 
 grass is sprayed with blood, and the broken limb of the 
 mutilated animal tells the tale of torture and death. 
 
 Such an incident shows barbarism and cruelty, and it 
 seems to me no answer to such a charge to say that killing 
 stags in this way is one of the traditional pastimes of royalty 
 and the aristocracy, and that no trophy that adorns the 
 ancestral hall is more prized than those which tell of these 
 great exploits. 
 
 I will not pursue the theme of cruelty into all its mani- 
 festations in the name of sport, such as that of shooting 
 pigeons released from, a trap, or killing pheasants that have 
 been reared like barn-door fowls and then driven over a 
 hedge to be slaughtered by the doughty heroes of this 
 domestic war. What I am concerned about for the moment 
 is to observe this question of cruelty on all sides. 
 
 If, for example, the question be put in a direct manner 
 as to whether cruelty is in itself admirable, the answer is a 
 decisive negative. That is the reply which is obvious, if only 
 for the reason that it excites no comment when uttered, 
 
176 ETHICS 
 
 whereas the expression of the opposite opinion would cause 
 unfeigned surprise. 
 
 I am not content, however, with this facile reply, for 
 though in any one case such a test might be found satis- 
 factory, yet if we had no better guide we sink into the kind 
 of error with which we have reproached all previous systems. 
 
 What has puzzled me particularly has been the frequent 
 association of cruelty with great personal qualities, while a 
 shrinking from cruelty is occasionally a characteristic of a 
 weak and spiritless character. Therefore 1 want to probe 
 this matter to the bottom and to face tlie facts whithersoever 
 they may lead. . 
 
 I take a personal experience : Once as a boy I was out 
 shooting when a hare started up and ran. I fired and blew 
 its front legs off, and I was heartily congratulated by my 
 companion and mentor, who was a good type of English 
 sportsman. As the hare had fallen it had uttered a wailing 
 shriek like the cry of a baby, and this had brought home 
 to me the sense of torture and despair that had swept over 
 the p>oor being. I threw aside my gun, and I lost the 
 pleasure of killing things for the sake of killing, or of 
 training myself to an accomplishment useless and trumpery 
 if that pleasure be absent. 
 
 The question is, did this attitude of mine show the 
 movement of a better spirit, or did it indicate a certain 
 decadence of fibre and of soul, deserving only of contempt? 
 
 Here again, and especially if the question be put in a 
 ceremonious manner, the answer would be given by many 
 and with due self-righteousness that it was proper to put 
 aside the gun ; but traced out in practical acts, and referred 
 to the personal experience of the individual man for his own 
 guidance, the theory of decadence and the sentiment would 
 overwhelmingly prevail. 
 
 Kill ! Kill ! Kill ! That seems with the youth of all 
 civilized Europe, and certainly, if proverbial sayings have 
 value, not less here than elsewhere, the impulse that is 
 obeyed when a wild creature, or in the highest circles a tame 
 creature, moves within the vision. 
 
 All sense of beauty, all feeling of nature, and of curiosity 
 of natural history, all instinct of sympathy is merged and 
 lost in that single brutal cry : Kill ! Kill ! Kill ! And 
 
SYMPATHY 177 
 
 this, be it ever remembered, among- people who execrate 
 cruelty, at least in the forms in which others practise it. 
 
 Let us pursue the matter a little further. Cricket is a 
 sport which, unlike the killing- of tame animals and 
 pheasants, has no aspect of cruelty, and it demands, more- 
 over, that the player "pay with his person." Yet among-st 
 the exponents I find a curious contrast. A well-known 
 cricketer, member of several Australian teams, Blackham, 
 was fond of the nighting-ale's song-, which is not known 
 in Australia ; after a match he had been known to walk miles 
 in the country to listen under a tree to that little poet of out- 
 bubbling lyric verse. I confess I find something- pleasant 
 and touching in the image of this bearded veteran player 
 sitting there solitary and secluded, far from the busy haunts 
 of men, to feel rain upon his soul this sweet and ever- 
 wonderful delight. 
 
 Then again I read of another cricketer, hardly less 
 famous, cited in popular letters from Australia as having 
 distinguished himself in the shooting matches, shooting 
 starlings ! 
 
 Here again the formal verdict, on a direct inquiry, would 
 be in favour of the gentler being who listened to the 
 nightingale, yet the practice of nearly all, especially those 
 trained in the most orthodox traditions, would be on the side 
 of the starling killer. That practice has obtained so far in 
 the land of chivalrous France that there starlings are hard 
 to find, and one of the most piquant chapters of Daudet's 
 "Tartarin de Tarascon " describes how the hero was re- 
 duced .to the more tempered joys of shooting at caps. 
 
 There has become fostered a morale in most civilized 
 communities which makes it a point of honour to bear with 
 equanimity the cruelties inflicted either on dumb animals, or 
 on other human beings, in all those cases where the practice 
 has something of official sanction. 
 
 When I felt a twinge of remorse for the needless 
 slaughter of a hare I dared not avow it. The grossest 
 cruelty, if it be within orthodox lines, seems something to 
 boast of. It is accepted as a mark of virility in a growing 
 boy, even as mothers often encourage selfishness, apparently 
 on similar ground. We are thus far away from a settlement 
 of the question against cruelty, simply by general consent, 
 M 
 
178 ETHICS 
 
 Let us now look at history. 
 
 All the conquering races have been cruel; at times dia- 
 bolically cruel. In the exploits of the great conquering 
 chiefs, the flower of chivalry, from William the Conqueror 
 to the Black Prince or to Peter the Great, we read stories of 
 stark cruelty in which the ferocity seems only to be matched 
 by an underlying spirit of fear. 
 
 Roman history, even at its greatest splendour, is full of 
 stories of cruelties, even of a kind unnecessary to the 
 strength of the nation. Julius Caesar seems to have been 
 one of the most genially gifted of that extraordinary people ; 
 yet his treatment of his warrior foe Vercingetorix, road even 
 at this distance of time, disgusts by the record of cruelty in 
 which no trait of generosity seems to have stirred the great 
 conqueror's mind, nor even the stern sense of justice, in that 
 Vercingetorix himself in his fierce determination to win 
 absolute power waded through the blood of victims of his 
 own almost incredible ferocity. 
 
 In the annals of every nation in the world which has at 
 one time or another attained to the dominance of others, 
 there are abundant stories of cruelties. I know of no con- 
 quering nation which has not pursued its conquests or its 
 subordination of other nations by using cruelty, either as a 
 means of waging war, or of holding other peoples in 
 subjection. This is true not only of the great nations, 
 whose government has been extensive, but also of smaller 
 nationalities, or even neighbouring clans, which have 
 been striving for indej>endence or supremacy amongst 
 themselves. 
 
 In the ''Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire " Gibbon 
 gives an account of the dominance at different times in the 
 Balkan Peninsula of the Greeks, the Serbians, and the 
 Bulgars. The story of each of these races is marked by 
 some impressive and dramatic example of terrible cruelty. 
 Their rivalry came to an end with the subjugation of all of 
 them by the Turks, who gave evidence of a still more formid- 
 able conquering character, associated with more devastating 
 and systematic ferocity. 
 
 The tide of the invading hosts of the Moslems was 
 stemmed back by the Christian forces under Charles Martel, 
 but under the banner of the religion of humility and love 
 
SYMPATHY 179 
 
 arrogance reached its highest, point and the cruelty was not 
 diminished. 
 
 A picture exhibited a few years ago in the Paris Salon 
 by the famous Russian artist Vereshchagin represented the 
 great conquerors of the world : one saw the chariots of 
 the great warlike leaders, Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, 
 Napoleon, as their horses advanced snuffing the air with 
 heads erect, scenting the atmosphere of death, while in the 
 foreground, and extending in the background through an 
 interminable perspective, the field was strewn with the 
 countless thousands of corpses who had been the stepping- 
 stones of power of these great ones of the earth. 
 
 Julius Caesar, who had a reputation for clemency, is said 
 to have produced the deaths in his various campaigns of 
 something like one million men. The historian may urge 
 that this was necessary for the piacification and enlightenment 
 of that little corner of Europe in which his operations were 
 conducted. That is possible, but as against the obvious 
 large account on the debit side, something substantial must 
 be shown on the credit side of the balance. The assassina- 
 tion of Caesar himself soon followed his rise to the highest 
 authority, and then, after a brief period of prosperity and 
 magnificence, the poisonous forces of dissolution began to 
 appear amidst the corrupt mass of the Roman Empire, and 
 soon all that remained of value was the legacy on the spiritual 
 side of just laws. 
 
 In reviewing the lives of the great conquerors one is 
 delighted to find from time to time some display of mag- 
 nanimous spirit, and the historians make the most of these 
 occasions. The comparative rarity of these examples makes 
 them conspicuous, for anyone who will visualize the whole 
 work of their camj>aigns will not find that generosity was the 
 stuff they worked in.^ 
 
 The great Spanish soldier Hernando Cortez, the type of 
 
 ^ I grant that no one of these men was inspired by purely selfish 
 objects, especially not an object conceived in mere material gain and 
 gratification. Alexander, with his overflowing energy, his ardent soul 
 alive to noble sentiments, his half-divine and half-lunatic enthusiasms 
 and mystic imaginings, this brilliant demi-god and besotted soldier 
 wrought better than he knew. The ideal that led him on was less 
 than the destiny which presided over his work. Those who have 
 studied Humboldt's " Cosmos " will find here again that in the 
 
i8o ETHICS 
 
 the great conquistadors, had his full share of that spirit of 
 romance and of poetic chivalry associated with the Spanish 
 nace and the history of Spain, but his conquest of Mexico is 
 marked, stained or glorified, according to the decision which 
 we are endeavouring to win out, by terrible cruelties. Of 
 all those who have figured as leaders on the world's stage, 
 Napoleon Bonaparte seems to me to be the one great con- 
 quering soldier against whom the charge of cruelty cannot 
 be justifiably levelled. His was by far the most highly 
 endowed intellectually of all these minds; his views were 
 more ample and more enlightened than those of his pre- 
 decessors; and both by his own natural instincts and by 
 reason of his considerate p>olicies, his rule was the most 
 clement and conciliatory. 
 
 It is true that on occasions Napoleon acted in the most 
 ruthless manner, as, for instance, when at the battle of 
 Austerlitz he ordered his gunners to fire into the air, so that 
 the descending shells should break up the ice over which 
 the beaten Austrians were escaping. It must also have 
 required a certain fortitude and indifference to suffering to 
 plan great campaigns in which hundreds of thousands of 
 lives must necessarily be sacrificed, in order to gain a great 
 political end. One must be sure of the value of these ends 
 to be willing to pay so great a price for the prospect of their 
 realization. 
 
 The whole question of war will be considered later, but at 
 present let us fix our minds rather on the side of cruelty. 
 It is quite possible that a soldier, who in his piofessional 
 duties strikes with iron resolution, may yet in private life 
 be of a friendly and genial disposition, and accessible to all 
 the finer touches of emotion ; but in the acts of war the 
 cruelty is found, no matter what may be the motives that 
 have impelled the action, and all these consequences should 
 be weighed by a responsible man who has it in his power to 
 let loose or to withhold these horrors. 
 
 working out of the history of the world a purpose, that may have 
 swept along the vision of the conqueror's mind but which was never 
 consciously planned by him, seems to arise out of his achievements. 
 His conquests broke down the barrier of East and West and extended 
 the civilizations of both. During the course of his campaigns, 
 Alexander, in spite of his innate generosity of spirit, was guilty of 
 atrocious cruelties. 
 
SYMPATHY i8i 
 
 During the cx>iirse of history the conquering type has 
 seldom been regarded with any sentiment of disapproval in 
 regard to that aspect of his character. In the style in which 
 our histories are written for the building up and edification 
 of young minds, one would think that the work of civiliza- 
 tion had been carried on almost exclusively by great men 
 with pompous titles whose main business was to carry out 
 aggressive policies by ruthless slaughter. 
 
 Cult of the Strong Man 
 
 In our own day we have seen the **cult of the strong 
 man." I have even seen and known some of the favourite 
 examples of the strong man, but I have never observed that 
 the strength consisted in superiority of intellect, amplitude of 
 views, or great mansuetude of character. When the acci- 
 dentals are cut away, there remains always to focus the 
 imagination some instance of barbarism which in its strength 
 disregarded every other motive than that of inflicting pain 
 and spreading terror. The cruelty is associated with what 
 decadent poets and fervid historians call ''strength," and 
 it is the cruelty which has given the salient features to the 
 characters they admire. 
 
 Looking at the matter from the professional point of 
 view again, we see that it may often happen that if a certain 
 work, no matter how terrible the sufferings involved, is 
 necessary to safeguard something of a higher character, 
 that work must be carried out. On a smaller scale a sur- 
 geon finds that every day in his practice. He inflicts pain 
 in a manner which would be atrociously cruel if it were in- 
 flicted wantonly, yet he may have a humane motive. Singu- 
 larly enough, the surgeon may be a man of refined and gentle 
 manners. He would not be more efficient and less cruel if, 
 overcome by the sufferings of his patient, he allowed his 
 intelligence to fail and his touch to become less accurate. 
 What applies to him may well apply to the professional 
 soldier. Cruelty only enters into the question when pain 
 is inflicted wantonly, and rather with a desire of satisfying 
 some fxassion in the tyrant's mind. 
 
 There is another aspect of the question, and that may be 
 referred to as the moral standard in regard to fortitude 
 which the individual sets up for himself. The Stoics 
 
i82 ETHICS 
 
 trained themselves to endurance of privations, of fatigues, 
 and of pain. They set up in this way a hig-h standard, 
 at the level of which their powers of resistance might 
 succumb. Such a man would treat with contempt the 
 pains and discomforts which might break down another 
 of weaker fibre. If then he makes light of these in his 
 own experience, how is he to remain sympathetic with 
 others? Only by placing himself in a special attitude with 
 regard to them, and treating them with contempt, while 
 running the risk of a certain spiritual pride with regard to 
 himself. 
 
 We see the extreme of indulgence in a state of society 
 where every little misfortune or deprivation is bewailed as a 
 tragedy, and where a cut finger is made the object of tender 
 solicitude and anxious inquiry. In the circles where senti- 
 ments of that sort are cultivated, both in regard to physical 
 and moral pains, the people do not regard themselves as 
 decadent; on the contrary, they pride themselves especially 
 on the sensitive dispK)sitions of their souls, and look with 
 disdain upon others less susceptible as inferior beings of a 
 brutal temperament. If that strain of morality were culti- 
 vated, nature herself would solve the question in the eventual 
 elimination or subjection of the tender types. 
 
 If a man resolve to explore the Arctic regions, he must 
 brace his mind and body to the endurance of rigorous climes. 
 He must not lose his resolution at the first sign of bad 
 weather. And so again with events in the psychical world. 
 
 I am seeking now to come to the crux of the matter. If 
 cruelty were a necessary concomitant of that bold and mascu- 
 line spirit which accomplishes great things in the history of the 
 world, and gives us standards which raise the whole dignity 
 of human life, then we should have to brace our minds not 
 merely to suffering, but to the contemplation of suffering, 
 and we should pursue our way with something of that in- 
 difference which we see in the operations of nature herself. 
 But if, on the other hand, cruelty be not a necessary 
 adjunct of those great natures which form the leadership of 
 the race, but indicates rather defects and stains of imper- 
 fection that mar their greatness, then we should just as 
 inexorably turn to the elimination of cruelty. 
 
 We have not been able to get a clear guidance in history 
 
SYMPATHY 183 
 
 itself, nor in that current style of opinion which in the 
 ordinary way serves us for guidance. Certainly when in 
 the histories some noble trait of character is exemplified, as 
 when to boldness and courage we add the unexpected flash 
 of generosity, of chivalry, then we do feel that high charac- 
 ter has been adorned with a grace beyond itself, a plume, a 
 flower that breathes of the ideal. But yet we, the very 
 people who are susceptible to these feelings of admiration, 
 tolerate, when we are told that it is necessary for some 
 policy however low or badly conceived, the most abominable 
 exercise of cruelty towards others. Day by day, in our 
 histories and in our newspapers, we become acquainted with 
 stories, presented entirely from a partisan point of view, 
 and reeking with cruelty, which we accept with a smug sort 
 of under-thought that it is profitable, and therefore great, 
 because while severe it is so profitable. 
 
 And then, finally, there is the better motive of a certain 
 vague fear that in giving way to indulgence we may be 
 allowing the entry of a certain dry rot, which will mollify, 
 and in a sense corrupt, our characters. 
 
 I will touch on that in a moment by an illustration. 
 When a young student at the university, I once heard 
 my professor of engineering say that one of the finest pas- 
 sages of poetry he had ever read was that of two lines of 
 Coleridge : 
 
 " He prayeth well who loveth well 
 Both man and bird and beast." 
 
 When I heard those words, I confess — and the con- 
 fession fills me now with wonder — my first feeling was one 
 of surprise, and to some extent of aversion. It is perhaps 
 worth while to analyse that state of mind, for it may not 
 be uncommon. In the first place I was surprised that the 
 good professor should have spoken of these lines as poetry 
 at all. I had been accustomed to regard, or to hear others 
 regard, as poetry something that spoke rather of the lan- 
 guorous expression of love between human beings, or 
 high-strung sentiment separated only by a mystical line from 
 nonsense, or else patriotic boastings in strident verse. Here 
 was a form of poetry, as the professor called it, that had no 
 such appeal. I pondered deeply. I remember that at the 
 
i84 ETHICS 
 
 time I did give him a reluctant assent, but that only by 
 virtue of a certain hypocrisy, for I held a deep reserve in 
 my mind. What struck me as more questionable than the 
 form of poetry was the actual sentiment. And what caused 
 the anxiety in my mind arose after all neither from a cruel 
 disposition nor from a low motive. I felt as if I were being 
 drawn into a path which would gradually lead me to a soft 
 and forceless and effeminated and eventually contemptible 
 type of individual. All that, however, only flashed upon 
 me as a vague massing of reserved consideration. 
 
 Subsequently the lesson itself worked into my mind ever 
 more and more deeply, and I now see not only how much 
 good sentiment these two lines contain, but how much real 
 wisdom in view of the development of the best type of 
 humanity. I say in anticipation of my conclusions that 
 these sentiments should be infused throughout the entire 
 population, beginning early when the mind is most receptive, 
 as in young children at school, and that in place of the 
 teachings that reek with slaughter and blood, these lessons 
 of kindness and sympathy should be ever inculcated, and that 
 not in the way of producing feeble or effeminated character, 
 but bold, strong, and chivalrous types of humanity. 
 
 The Veritable Criterion 
 
 Here now I come down to the veritable criterion. 
 Cruelty is the antithesis of sympathy. Sympathy arises 
 naturally when the conditions of the life of others are re- 
 garded by a mind of deep receptivity and wide outlook, and 
 the higher these qualities, the more ready the flow of 
 sympathy. This does not mean merely sympathy with 
 suffering ; it embraces also sympathy with the joys of others. 
 Sympathy is the great poetic quality. Sympathy not only 
 has this recommendation, but to those who cannot see good 
 in anything unless it has a material manifestation, I say 
 that sympathy is the counterpart of co-operation, and co- 
 operation finds its advantages in the very conditions of our 
 individual beings, and in the circumstances which surround 
 us in our life in society. 
 
 Sympathy is not incompatible with a high sense of duty 
 which might, at times, dictate a severe attitude and 
 adamantine resolution. But acts committed in this sense 
 
SYMPATHY 185 
 
 are not necessarily cruel. Cruelty arises in the infliction of 
 unnecessary sufferings, and it is fed by the delight of satisfy- 
 ing the passion of our minds which gluts itself in the con- 
 templation of the suffering of others. Those passions that 
 run counter to the spirit of co-operation are the reverse side 
 of the medal of finer emotions, and their activity is the sign 
 either of a lower intellectual development or of the downfall 
 for the moment of better inspirations. Cruelty, then, is 
 never the sign of a ** strong " character ; it ha» its roots in 
 blindness, in perversity, and in cowardice. 
 
 Jastioe 
 
 The same causes that produce the feeling of sympathy 
 give rise at length to the sentiment of justice. 
 
 If we have a clear visualization of the conditions under 
 which others live and work, and with that a well-developved 
 feeling of sympathy, and thence a sense of community, and 
 the intelligent recognition of the need for a rule of general 
 application, then the sentiment of justice is inevitable. 
 
 This becomes embodied in the formula : "Do unto others 
 as you would that they should do unto you " — ^but it must 
 not be understood that the sentiment of justice implies a 
 preliminary calculation of the benefits that would accrue to 
 the individual under a system of justice rather than under a 
 system of injustice. It is true that on that side there is an 
 advantage, but that is a benefit derived from the being of 
 things, just as the advantage of co-operation arises from 
 something deeper than a cunning reckoning of results. 
 
 In the actual development of society there would be 
 always found some authority set up, as, for example, by 
 sheer brute force, rather than that by virtue of a sentiment 
 of justice the suggestion would arise to establish some 
 authority to realize that conception. 
 
 The experience of the operation of that authority would 
 be felt, by virtue of sympathy, as if the application were to 
 be made personally. For instance, every member of the 
 retinue of a savage chief, who was liable to fits of arbitrary 
 violence, would feel that he might in his turn become the 
 victim. Similarly in the case of a wise chief who rewarded 
 according to services or merits, the personal motive would 
 also favour the regime of justice. 
 
i86 ETHICS 
 
 There is not in rudimentary societies of men any "Con- 
 trat Social," such as Rousseau imagined, set up to regelate 
 the terms of mutual def>endence and obligation of the 
 members of the society. The "contrat social" is a con- 
 ception of a somewhat abstruse and developed character, 
 and some mode of regulation must have been in good work- 
 ing order before such a notion could be even entertained. 
 
 The origins of the institution of authority and of the 
 sentiment of justice are to be found deeper than either thie 
 calculation of benefit or the appreciation of a well-adjusted 
 order. 
 
 Certain considerations aid the spontaneous movement of 
 sympathy, and amongst these is the intellectual faculty. 
 Every act that tallies with itself, every promise that is 
 fulfilled, every measurement whether by space or weight that 
 fulfils a condition, every balance that is struck, as for 
 example in exchange and barter, each one of these contains 
 a principle associated with that justice. 
 
 From the sentiment of justice arise by the next step the 
 institutions that give it formal authority, and that carry out 
 the edicts. In the actual development of society we should 
 doubtless find here again that the means of action of this 
 kind were in existence long before the complete recognition 
 of the abstract principle of justice ; but as the operations 
 became familiar, and the effects were observed, the principle 
 of justice would continually operate to determine the 
 decisions and to adjust the measure of the punishments or 
 rewards. 
 
 Here I would refer again to the analysis suggested by 
 Psychology. When the conditions of the physical corre- 
 lative to sensation are established, sensation arises spontane- 
 ously ; and by the very constitution of our minds there 
 follows a train of processes amongst which is generalization. 
 
 Hence there is no one moment of the time when the 
 individual reasons : Generalization is a faculty of high 
 economic value in thought, I will adopt it. The highest 
 form of generalization, such as that employed in scientific 
 speculation, is developed from a rudimentary faculty of 
 generalization, which is not invented or adopted, but which 
 comes into existence automatically and inevitably, therefore 
 "instinctively," at the dawn of thought. 
 
SYMPATHY 187 
 
 So when the objective and subjective conditions are pro- 
 vided a certain comprehension itakes place, and feeling arises, 
 which in one direction of its natural manifestation is sym- 
 pathy, leading" to helpfulness and co-operation ; and in the 
 negative form is hate, or aversion of some kind, tending 
 in its action to cruelty. Thus still by natural growth, and 
 not by selfish calculations, the sentiment of justice emerges 
 and waxes strong. But just as the faculty of generalization 
 in its high manifestations can be trained, so also from con- 
 siderations of calculation, if only they are made general in 
 application, and also by the play of the intellectual activity, 
 the sense of justice may be developed, refined, and made 
 delicate and precise. 
 
 There is one word which should be here uttered to round 
 off the appreciation of justice, and that is "generosity." 
 Descartes insisted on the value of generosity and made it 
 the theme of a remarkable discourse. There is something 
 very noble in this conception, if its meaning be caught as 
 Descartes intended, though it is an insufficient foundation 
 upon which to base a scientific system of ethics. 
 
 What underlies its value is this — that we are liable to 
 be misled by gaining from our personal standpoint a per- 
 spective which is exaggerated in favour of our own interests, 
 desires, and prejudices. Let us therefore cultivate even in 
 our thoughts a habit of generosity. It will at first appear 
 to us as something added, something delightful and brilliant, 
 to the solid virtue of justice. With experience, and especially 
 in the retrospect, we shall find, if we be not blinded by 
 selfishness, that nearly always when we thought we had 
 been generous we had only rounded out to justice. 
 
 The institutions which derive from justice are not then 
 merely associated with the courts where punishments are 
 inflicted or quarrels decided. The spirit of justice should 
 be infused throughout the whole body of the laws and the 
 administration, and it should be one of the guiding principles 
 in the mode of government itself. 
 
 Justice should preside over all the arrangements, whether 
 by official institution or otherwise, for protecting children, 
 or for smoothing down the disabilities that arise from age 
 or from incapacity incurred in the performance of one's duty 
 as a member of the community. 
 
i88 ETHICS 
 
 We see here again that from fundamental principles, which 
 are the ultimate determinants of ethics, we come to those 
 secondary standards which consist of institutions and regula- 
 tions, and which when established and administered on 
 proper lines serve more directly for guidance. 
 
 From the basic plan we have laid down, therefore, with 
 its main standard form we now begin to see the lines on 
 which the complete system may be elaborated. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 Standards of Type 
 
 Suggestion • from Biology 
 
 We have seen already in the discussions of the principles of 
 Truth, Energy, and Sympathy, that the observance of these 
 principles leads naturally and inevitably to certain develop- 
 ments, both of our mental faculties and of the institutions 
 which correspond to them. It is in the task of framing in- 
 stitutions that we may seek for help in the study of natural 
 organisms. 
 
 Let us, therefore, now cast a glance upon those argu- 
 ments derived from biology to which Herbert Spencer 
 attached great importance. We saw reasons for not accept- 
 ing his conclusions as completely satisfactory, but there are 
 valuable suggestions in his method. By taking the extremes 
 of the animal creation, the amoeba and man, he was able 
 to throw out into strong relief the characters which specially 
 marked the development of man. It was rather in the 
 selection of the great distinguishing traits that he failed to 
 establish a base on which he could proceed infallibly to erect 
 a true system. Nevertheless, this manner of objective regard 
 has something in it of great force and persuasiveness. Let 
 us therefore look at man as an instrument, so that we can 
 direct our attention to the i>erfection of those parts which 
 are susceptible of improvement. 
 
 When we examine man from the mechanical point of 
 view, we find that although the total structure has many 
 points of interest, and of great variety, yet the principle of 
 the mechanism is relatively simple. The problem given to 
 the Great Artificer in the fashioning of our human race has 
 been the construction of a machine of high efficiency while 
 working in material subject to many limitations. The 
 chief function of muscle tissue, for example, is to contract; 
 and a way had to be found by which, employing the elastic 
 
 189 
 
igo ETHICS 
 
 faculty alone, a machine capable of a great variety of move- 
 ments could be devised. When a muscle contracts it tends 
 to bring" together the parts to which it is attached, and in 
 order that, utilizing- this circumstance, a considerable variety 
 of postures and movements could be devised, it became 
 necessary to use a jointed structure. That jointed structure 
 is the skeleton of the human body ; the motive power is 
 found in the muscles. The stimulation of this motive power 
 is derived from the efferent nerves which proceed from the 
 central nervous system to the muscles ; and the indications 
 on which the stimulating impulses are sent out are derived 
 from the afferent nerves, which, though not as a rule pro- 
 ceeding directly from the muscles, take their origin in parts, 
 as for instance the skin, lying in particular relation to 
 muscles, or to the bony framework activated by the muscles. 
 
 This is not the usual manner in which the human body 
 is regarded, and for the moment it seems rather to lessen 
 that sense of beauty which we derive from the immediate 
 aspect of physical development in its perfection. Never- 
 theless, thoug-h not insensible to these effects, I would remark 
 that the more this analytical study is pursued, the more 
 powerful becomes the impression of wonderful adjustment, 
 of the marvellous co-ordination of a great variety of different 
 actions, and finally a higher appreciation of beauty when 
 we behold it arising at length as the crown of all these 
 arrangements and activities. It was not an artist, but a 
 physiologist ^ who once asked me, with a sort of awed en- 
 thusiasm, to admire "the wonder of the knee-joint." The 
 foot, whose beauty is generally relegated to a secondary 
 position by those whose ideal is the fashion plate, and who 
 mutilate it and deform it in their quest for that shining 
 perfection, is in itself a marvellous object, and at its best a 
 thing of beauty. 
 
 As we examine the human frame in this way, we are 
 struck, not only with the simplicity evinced in the main 
 design, but we also come across little incidental problems 
 which suggest those exercises of ingenuity which delight an 
 engineer in dealing with details, after he has furnished 
 the main design. One of the movements of the eye-ball 
 
 ^ Sir William Gowers. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 191 
 
 has to be carried out by means of a muscle ^ which, if it 
 had simply a direct connexion from eye-ball to bony attach- 
 ment, could not produce the result. In this case the principle 
 of the pulley is used, and a particular fascination here is 
 found on account of the restriction of the materials out of 
 which this little structure must be fabricated. 
 
 That being- so, those who are impressed by these matters 
 are not likely to under-rate the body, still less to seek to 
 debase it, after the manner of the old saints and mystics, 
 on the g-round that the body was a mere material shell 
 unworthy of the spirit that inhabited it. I think it was 
 Plotinus who declared that he was ashamed of the body, 
 but possibly he gave too general an expression to the sense 
 of his personal defects. 
 
 One of the early suggestions that come to us in con- 
 templating the body, and in searching- always for ethical 
 standard, is that of a sense of the limitation of its functions. 
 When we contemplate our position in the universe we feel 
 a sort of revolt against all that imposes a definite curb and 
 barrier to the development of our powers. And one of 
 Carlyle's biting" satires is that contained in " Sartor 
 Resartus " in an epitaph upon the man whose life was that 
 of a noble sportsman, and the general effect of whose activities 
 was summed up by Carlyle in the amount of nutriment which 
 he had brought down, eaten ad digested. 
 
 I do not insist on sentiments and guidance of this sort ; 
 I am continually seeking for deep and sure standards, and 
 I should be content to accept their indications even if they 
 ran counter to my pre-supp>ositions, and yet not the less 
 when they respond to my feelings and aspirations. Let us 
 see then whether nature has intended to imp>ose upon us 
 the limitations of our physical frames. 
 
 There are relatively few muscles in the human body. 
 Anatomists generally give a figure about four hundred and 
 fifty. An old anatomist, Keill, who seems to have been 
 one of the first to enumerate the muscles, counted four 
 hundred and forty-six that came under his definition of 
 dissectable. A noted English anatomist, Professor Wright, 
 of the London Hospital, has given the number at six hundred 
 
 ^ Obliquus suferior. 
 
192 ETHICS 
 
 and seventy-four, altliough he says that it is not possible 
 to be precise, for sometimes a doubt may arise as to whether 
 two parts are separable, and the muscular system of some 
 people is actually richer than that of others. 
 
 That being- so, all our movements are dependent upon 
 the different modes of co-ordination of these muscles, and 
 although that may give a great variety of movements, yet 
 when we classify these movements and arrange them in 
 categories it does not offer a very wide scope for originality 
 of posture or action. 
 
 The efferent nerves proceed from the centre of the nervous 
 system. Through countless generations of development we 
 have reached a point where the great proportion of our 
 movements, even of a very complicated kind, are performed 
 unconsciously. When I spoke of the Great Artificer fashion- 
 ing our bodies, I did not mean to imply that proceeding 
 directly from the dust He produced a human being as we 
 know it. There has been the gradual development, with 
 adjustments tried and established by myriad experiences, 
 before it becomes definitely adopted as part of the make-up. 
 That so many of our processes then are automatic indicates 
 how extraordinarily careful has been the adjustment and 
 what vast periods of time have been necessary to account 
 for it. 
 
 A good few simple adjustments are arranged in the spinal 
 cord. Superimpvosed on those adjustments are others which 
 are more occasional and varied according to circumstances. 
 The seat of the adjustment of these is the cerebellum. We 
 find accordingly the cerebellum is well developed in birds of 
 prey like the condor, and great wild beasts like the lion and 
 tiger, and in active marine animals like the porpoise.^ 
 
 In man also the cerebellum is well developed, but rela- 
 
 * Some physiologists, struck by this fact, have traced out pictur- 
 esquely the main lines of action from the cerebellum to the final 
 outcome in physical energy, and they have adorned the process with 
 the term, " Kinetic drive." This term is picturesque and useful, 
 but when they go farther and assert that they build up a system of 
 psychology upon this observation, they talk sheer nonsense. Instead 
 of an analysis showing us the mechanism of psychal action they 
 make play with such vague terms as Kinetic drive, and then jump 
 to remote conclusions which they have already reached in quite 
 another way, and without any satisfactory nexus between the result 
 and the foundation. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 193 
 
 tively not nearly so well as in these wild animals. When 
 we study the movements of a beast of prey where, from 
 day to day, its very life depends on its activity and prowess, 
 we see the glory and beauty of perfect physical form' and 
 grace, as for instance in the movements of the tiger ; but even 
 while we feel that we cannot emulate such activity, we see the 
 limitations of such a life. 
 
 When man compares himself with other animals he is 
 forced on many grounds to acknowledge his inferiority. He 
 has not the size of the elephant, the swiftness of the cheetah, 
 nor the digestion of the wolf, nor, relatively speaking, the 
 admirable leaping faculty of the flea. 
 
 Importance of the Use of Tools 
 
 When we look into his make-up on the physical side we 
 find not only is the cerebellum a prop>ortionately smaller part 
 of the brain, but that the greater part of the co-ordinations 
 which it effects are not those giving immediately an immense 
 impetus of energy, but that they serve movement undertaken 
 in order to employ some kind of implement or tool. 
 
 Here we come to something decisive. Man is the only 
 animal that uses mechanical implements habitually, and that 
 fact alone is of enormous importance with regard to his 
 whole destiny. All the other animals depend on their own 
 persons for the work which they accomplish. They tear 
 with their claws, or rend with their teeth. That again 
 imposes limitations. The first implement that the primal 
 man used may have been a club with which he smote or a 
 stone which he hurled. Whichever it may have been, he 
 had already turned into a road of which the developments 
 were limitless.^ 
 
 When he begins to employ a tool he will employ another. 
 He will find better results with one kind than another. His 
 attention will be attracted to the difference of the tools them- 
 selves, and in the place of accidental discovery he will resort 
 tO' deliberate shaping. That will imply accessory tools. 
 
 ^ Professor J. A. Thompson, in the course of an interesting lecture 
 for children, remarked that a certain lizard had begun to stand on 
 its hind legs, and when an animal does that, he said, something is 
 going to happen. It will ; and if th« animal can take the next .step of 
 employing a tool, it will inevitably proceed to great things. 
 N 
 
194 ETHICS 
 
 Once entered upon that path he will be led on step by step, 
 by ever new advances, to new wonders. He will be led to 
 discriminate between different materials, and this will lead 
 him to the manipulation and the alteration in various ways 
 of his materials. He will employ cutting- instruments. He 
 will be launched into the study of mechanics. He will employ 
 fire and water, and will have begun his fascinating- course of 
 chemistry. 
 
 The use of implements will inevitably lead him to the 
 tillag^e, however rudimentary at first, of the soil, and when 
 once his life, or the life of a part of the race, ceases to be 
 that merely of hunting and acquires a more settled character, 
 then new reaches become opened out to human destiny. 
 
 I have heard a learned lecturer describe in what way 
 civilization took its rise from the valley of the Nile. His 
 arg-ument was that the regularity of the phenomena and the 
 fertility of the soil allowed long periods of leisure favourable 
 for reflection, while at the same time prompting the research 
 for the causes that produced these effects or the natural 
 phenomena associated with them. Whether this account be 
 historically correct or not I do not know, but certainly the 
 principle is there well stated. 
 
 In regard to man's physical development, all the adjust- 
 ments subsequently made do not affect the number of his 
 muscles, except perhaps now and then in the direction of 
 allowing certain of them, seldom used, to degenerate and to 
 remain, if at all, as mere vestiges. Meanwhile, however, his 
 nervous system has continued to develop, not again in the 
 spinal cord, but in the brain, and not in the cerebellum, but 
 in the cerebrum. 
 
 If then human life has any meaning at all, and if man 
 has been led on to a higher destiny by the modes of develop- 
 ment which distinguish him from the brutes, then certainly 
 the size and complexity of the cerebrum is a mark of higher 
 development, and that affords us a standard which we may 
 take as determining in our search for ethical guidance. 
 
 There is another aspect in which man differs notably 
 from the beasts of the field : he is able to leave a record of 
 his thoughts. This faculty depends on the tool-using accom- 
 plishment, at any rate in regard to rudimentary tools, and 
 therefore must have been developed later. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 195 
 
 A dog- who buries a bone beside a tree is making use of a 
 rudimentary form of record ; but he has no means of com- 
 municating this record to another. That implies besides the 
 faculties that the dog has in common with the man — associa- 
 tion, symbolization, memory — a greater mental energy in 
 man and wider field of association. All these faculties be- 
 come developed with the tool-using habit. 
 
 A great advance is made when the record is by language, 
 though then also the gradual development is traceable. 
 
 No one who has observed animals attentively can doubt 
 that they have language, and, in the case of some, an 
 extensive language. Dogs and cats have a large scale of 
 notes, and besides the vocal language they convey their 
 meaning, either to other animals or to human beings, by 
 various other signs, involving touch and vision. 
 
 The great leap of genius of the human species has been 
 the invention of an alphabet. Our progress in intellectual 
 matters has been step by step, the whole acquirement at any 
 period helping to make the next «advance possible ; but of all 
 the successive steps that which seems the most wonderful, 
 because it seems to imply at an early stage a fine analytical 
 power devoted to a definite purpose, is the representation of 
 a sound by a series of symbols, devised to indicate each a 
 point in this sound and an articulation. 
 
 No doubt even here it is possible to imagine steps of 
 association by which the ultimate crowning glory was 
 reached ; but that these were not inevitable is proved by the 
 fact that nations which have reached a high stage of civiliza- 
 tion, and which have cultivated literature with affection, 
 have missed the device of letters. It is no wonder that the 
 ancients ascribed to the alphabet a supernatural origin. 
 
 Once started on the path of recording, it is clear that man 
 was destined to develop the faculty. 
 
 The records which in early clan life took the form of 
 songs, singing the greatness of the clan and its chief, were 
 delivered from generation to generation as holy traditions. 
 When at length these songs, or at least the words, were 
 written down, then a record was obtained that often survived 
 the loss of memory of the bards, or even the obliteration of 
 the clan itself. The immense importance in the ethical 
 world of this fact was seen when, after the fall of Con- 
 
196 
 
 ETHICS 
 
 stantinople had driven Greek scholars to various countries 
 of Europe, the records of the Greek thinkers were made 
 accessible, and the path; of regeneration of humanity became 
 indicated. 
 
 A fresh generation is certainly not born with the wisdom 
 of that which preceded it; but it is also true that it is not 
 necessary to make a fresh start each time. The cerebrum 
 had become developed in accordance with our acquisitions,^ 
 and these make part of the environment. 
 
 Then, once the way has been ascertained to the solution 
 of a problem: — and all our difficulties in some guise or 
 another take the form of problems — it is easier to follow the 
 path already correctly traced than by various tentatives 
 to find it anew. 
 
 We thus start each generation with an ever-increasing 
 intellectual capital, and it behoves that generation to be- 
 come developed up to the point corresponding at least, and 
 not to recede or slacken. We are the "heirs of the ages," 
 but effort is required lest we slip back in decadence. 
 
 Here then we are far away from the exercise of mere 
 animal faculties; and casting now a glance upon the muscu- 
 lar system we see that the muscles are instruments only ; 
 they subserve the purpose of locomotion, of tool using, of 
 recording; but they are not in themselves the great repre- 
 sentatives of our faculties, nor is their cultivation the "chief 
 end of man." * 
 
 ^ This is true whether the process be by Natural Selection, or 
 whether this be aided, no matter in how small a degree, by the prin- 
 ciples of Lamarck. It is consistent with Weismann's demonstrations. 
 
 * I have worked at this argument in a manner which may seem 
 laborious even to the point of absurdity, for most thinking people 
 will concede at once that the development of mental powers is asso- 
 ciated with the development of the brain, and that a man of high 
 mental development is superior to a man of low mental development. 
 No doubt that is true, but I do not want to be content with facile 
 concessions, or general consensus of opinion. Opinion is often very 
 misleading, and in nothing more so than on this very point. 
 
 Philosophically and theoretically, it will be accepted that a man 
 of high brain power is superior to a man of low brain power, bu1 
 when the matter is brought to practical application, and the question 
 is raised as to following the direction of one or the other, it often 
 happens that the man of low brain power is preferred, and it has 
 hardly ever happened in the history of the world that a man of the 
 highest intellectual development has been the ruler of the state. 
 
 The superiority, in an ethical sense at least, of the mental activi- 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 197 
 
 If now at this stage we return to the amoeba, we see that 
 man differs from, him in the association of, and thence in the 
 co-operation of, myriads of his kind ; this rather than in the 
 
 ties over the physical, will again be generally conceded, but that is 
 a mere formal acceptance. 
 
 Let us take the criterion of relative values afforded by our current 
 literature, whether in books or newspapers. We find columns of 
 newspapers, even those that exist for propaganda purposes, filled 
 with exploits of men entirely on the physical plane. To come to a 
 point, it is thought laudable for men over the age of twenty-one to 
 spend the livelong day, and all the days of the week, knocking a 
 leather sphere about a field. That is not precisely the way in which 
 the matter is expressed in the popular prints, but I am endeavouring 
 to analyse down to the essentials of things, just as at the beginning 
 I sought for the main features of human physical movements. 
 Schoolmasters speak of the character-forming value of games, and 
 there is a general chorus of praise of such a mode of life as that 
 indicated ; and those who, devoting their whole energies to these 
 pursuits, become even moderately successful, are hailed as heroes. 
 Even amongst schoolmasters, even amongst ethical teachers of note, 
 and amongst poets, this high appreciation of physical excellence, or 
 rather aptitude for artificial forms of sport, is carried to such a 
 point as to produce prejudice against and disparagement of brain- 
 power. Hence the respect for the man who " muddles through." 
 
 Now in order to get out of the prepossessions of the moment, let 
 us stand on the ruins of Babylon. Those ruins are not easy to discover 
 at the present day, so completely has that city disappeared. Yet we 
 know from records that Babylon was once a centre of a wonderful life, 
 the high peak of civilization of the time, the seat of powerful govern- 
 ment, and the hot-house of all those pleasures to which we still attach 
 the highest importance. Standing on those ruins, we feel in spite of 
 ourselves the invasion of a sad sentiment, as of the evanescent char- 
 acter and the futility of so much of human works. Then we inquire 
 how did the energy that built up so much grandeur become waste? 
 What were the young men doing, who should have defended their 
 possessions? How did the heirs of the ages, after achieving so high 
 a point, succumb? Where was the energy, where the spirit of the 
 flower of the aristocracy who should have been together in the duty of 
 defending their heritage? What were the aristocracy doing? 
 
 And suppose the answer came, translated into our own forms of 
 thought and language : They spent all the livelong hours of the day 
 and all the days of the week beating a leather sphere about a field ! 
 One wonders, not that they should have fallen, but that they should 
 ever have arrived at such a point. 
 
 I do not speak as one who despises games. In my " Religio 
 Athletae " I have endeavoured to give something of the enthusiasm 
 I have felt for the beauty and the glory of splendid sports. But in 
 spite of the schoolmasters' cant about character-forming games — a 
 shallow phrase which is only true with regard to the games them- 
 selves — I see in this over-devotion to games not the sign of power, 
 but of decadence. A masculine body is a fine thing, but in pursu- 
 ing toys we should not lose masculinity of mind, for that is still 
 greater. 
 
198 ETHICS 
 
 definiteness of action in time and space on which Herbert 
 Spencer laid particular stress. This co-operation implies a 
 system of controls and co-ordination of efforts; and hence a 
 differentiation of functions from part to part. It also im- 
 plies, together with greater mass, greater energy, for the 
 energies of the single low organisms are utilized. For the 
 direction of this energy we have the muscular system work- 
 ing on the skeleton as we have seen ; and for the guidance 
 of this system we have the central nervous system, and the 
 nerves; and for the upkeep and regulation of the whole 
 system we have the respiratory system, the circulatory 
 system, the digestive and excretory system, the glands, the 
 skin, then the organs of sense.^ 
 
 Then above all we have the great marvel, the perpetual 
 miracle of consciousness. I have discussed in ** Psychology : 
 A New System " the question of the relation of body to 
 mind, and while I conclude that the brain is the principal 
 organ of the mind, I mean by that no more than that to 
 every psychic state there is a physical antecedent and corre- 
 lative, in which the activity of the brain, and particularly of 
 certain parts of the brain, is interested. 
 
 But it is that consciousness, developed step by step into 
 high intelligence, that ultimately forms the supreme guide 
 to all the functions, and that not merely in regard to the 
 individual, but in his relation to the external inanimate 
 world and to society. 
 
 Since the hand that directs the instrument should be 
 rated higher than the instrument, and the mind that directs 
 the hand higher generally than the hand, it becomes evident 
 that the development of mind should be regarded as one of 
 the objects of the race. 
 
 What then should we regard as standards of mental 
 development? This question has already been virtually 
 answered in the course of the discussion. 
 
 Complexity of Type Corresponds to Development 
 
 By dint of co-operation, and hence of co-ordination, of 
 faculties, which was necessary in the mental world as in the 
 
 ^ The study of the harmonious working of these is extraordinarily 
 interesting and not remote from our subject, but the details would 
 lead us too far afield. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 199 
 
 physical, we reach successive systems of controls. The 
 higher the type of mind, the greater the degree of organiza- 
 tion or of complexity of development : the higher the degree 
 of complexity, corresponding to generalization in the mental 
 sphere, the larger the scope of control of life and thought. 
 
 This complexity should, however, correspond to the ex- 
 ternal reality, and as that is a point of importance sometimes 
 overlooked, it is advisable to make it quite clear. 
 
 We have seen ^ that the process of education has its 
 physical counterpart in the opening up of lines of communi- 
 cation between cells or ganglia in the brain. There is here 
 no necessary materialistic assumption. It would suffice for 
 our purpose to regard the form of development which really 
 takes place as being but the diagrammatic representation 
 of the mental processes. 
 
 In this way the relation of idea to idea becomes repre- 
 sented by the line of nervous communication between cell 
 and cell ; and the relations between more general notions 
 and other general notions are represented by the communi- 
 cations between ganglia, which themselves show lines of 
 communication with cells. And so the whole process of 
 thought becomes typified by this structure of communicating 
 lines of nervous impulses, the whole being elaborated some- 
 what as a telegraph system, built up by communication 
 between sub-station and sub-station, then communications 
 to higher centres controlling sub-stations, and so on till we 
 reach the head office, represented in this case by the cortex, 
 or part of the cortex, of the cerebrumi. 
 
 If this high development bear to the external world also 
 the relation of a diagram to the original, then all the move- 
 ments of the mind corresponding toi this schema are in 
 accordance with the happenings, within this domain, of 
 nature. Hence the individual gains knowledge, prescience, 
 and control. He has reached, by all our standards, a hig^her 
 degree of development than those in whom these marks are 
 absent. 
 
 But a high degree of development, intrinsically, does not 
 always correspond with the extrinsic reality. In the old 
 
 ^ In " Psychology : A New System " and in " Principles of 
 Psychology." 
 
200 ETHICS 
 
 days, when men of ^reat brain power filled their minds with 
 the lore of astrology, the learning of alchemy, when they 
 talked a sort of pseudo^science puffed out with mystic non- 
 sense, they were not men of a higher standard than those 
 who, with less culture of this kind, had a modicum of com- 
 mon sense. Their forms of complex development did not 
 correspond to external nature. 
 
 Even when the thought is true and real and extensive 
 there may be lacking a factor that corresponds to a possible 
 higher development. Thus, for example, the knowledge of 
 the botanist. Brown, was not less extensive and accurate in 
 detail than that of Darwin, but he had failed to embrace, or, 
 in a philosophic sense, to control all those facts by the 
 affirmation of the general law of which they represented the 
 particular cases. The high use of the faculty of generaliza- 
 tion corresponds to a succession of controls. 
 
 If now in all this we bear in mind the value of mass in 
 itself, or the analogue of mass in the mental life, we com- 
 plete our standards, as far as mental energy is concerned. 
 The difference between the constitution of an atom and that 
 of the solar system is, according to modern views of the 
 atom, a question of accretion and of mass, obeying the same 
 mechanical laws of attraction and of repulsion. Finally, the 
 product of high complexity * of development, with power 
 of mental activity, gives the criterion of development with 
 respect to energy. 
 
 Another question arises as to the proper direction of the 
 forces implied, for mere intellectual power is not sufficient 
 to ensure a high ethical character. Here we find the 
 principle of Sympathy necessary to complete the conception. 
 
 Then, finally, something perhaps not less important, but 
 more intangible, the discussion of which. I reserve^ — that of 
 the total effective effort as having a meaning in the cosmical 
 order of things : Purpose. 
 
 ^ It must be dearly understood that complexity, for the sake of 
 complexity, is not meant, but a complexity that arises naturally and 
 inevitably from a progress in development by co-ordination and 
 control; this complexity must be in accord with the constitution of 
 external nature. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 201 
 
 Criteria of Values in Practice 
 
 In order to make discussion clearer let us leave abstrac- 
 tions for a while and see how the matter appears in the con- 
 crete forms of actual experience. 
 
 Some time ago an important French newspaper held a 
 sort of referendum on the question as to who was the 
 greatest of Frenchmen. The popular vote was strongly in 
 favour of Pasteur. That result was in itself a sign of the 
 march of civilization, for in the whole course of history there 
 have been few generations in which a man of science would 
 have been held up as the best representative of the race. 
 Perhaps there is no other country, even now, where a result 
 similar to this would be obtained. I once made a proposition 
 in Parliament which, like many of those derived from com- 
 mon sense and reason, had an eccentric appearance in that 
 assembly. It ran upon the same lines of thought as that 
 which designated Pasteur as a man whose work deserved 
 high admiration. I suggested that the approaches to Parlia- 
 ment, such as Whitehall, should not be adorned by the 
 statues of kings half lunatic or entirely vicious, or of military 
 commanders illustrious for nothing but their titles, or even 
 second-rate statesmen, but that men who had done real 
 service to the country and humanity at large — Darwin, 
 Faraday, Clerk Maxwell, Milton, Keats — should be 
 honoured. This proposition was rejected, not without some 
 amusement to the members, so that in place of having con- 
 tributed anything to ethical principles, I had to be content 
 with adding to "the gaiety of nations." 
 
 This experience, and a thousand others of like character, 
 have forced me again and again to sound the validity of my 
 own principles, and to trace them back to their source. I 
 I have always risen comforted and strengthened from such 
 examinations, but experience has taught me that in certain 
 communities, and in certain circumstances of life, clear 
 views and good principles may be dangerous possessions. 
 
 Let us therefore try to regard the matter in a larger 
 scope. When a nation is finished with, and nothing but the 
 records of its salient achievements come down to us through 
 the centuries, and when we are then little moved by racial 
 or national prejudices, what is it that we prize? Take 
 Greece, for example. The study of Greece is always fas- 
 
202 ETHICS 
 
 cinating, not only on account of the extraordinary achieve- 
 ments of a few great men, but because from the limited form 
 of the whole theatre of operations we have the impression 
 in the distance of studying the working of a model from 
 which we may derive les^sons/ 
 
 Returning now to Greece, with this warning of circum- 
 spection, we find that certain phases of activity, the fevered 
 life that agitated the city in politics and petty quarrels of 
 personal supremacy, have little interest now. That was the 
 activity at a comparatively low level which we have already 
 noted. On the other hand many of us are still interested, 
 after this lapse of centuries, in the reforms of Cleisthenes, 
 who sought to break down the murderous rivalry of small 
 communities separated by hilly ridges or little streams, and 
 to show that there might be community of interest which 
 would bind these people together and give them a fuller and 
 greater life than that of isolated clans. No doubt Cleisthenes 
 met with great opposition, not only on the side of material 
 interest but on the plane of high morality. The fierce 
 slogans of patriotism, and traditionsi, and cults, and customs, 
 and pride of family and of village, were, no doubt, as loud 
 and vehement, in a proportionate scale, in his day as all the 
 cries of ignorance and prejudice which in our time separate 
 peoples and nations. 
 
 Yet the work of Cleisthenes prospered and became 
 feasible. Once realized, few thought of undoing it. And 
 now, when without prejudice we can look back upon it, we 
 
 ^ It was precisely that limited aspect of Greece which suggested 
 to Cobden that the affairs of Manchester, representing greater social 
 activity, were a great deal more important than those of Athens. 
 That has been described as a " commercial traveller's view of 
 history," and there is truth in that observation. Nevertheless, 
 Cobden's view responds to a certain phase of reality which has its 
 importance, just as that of another member of Parliament, a colleague 
 of mine, who told me that he had once visited Venice, but that he 
 had spent the three weeks of his stay there mainly in helping to 
 coal the ship. As he was sailing off, he looked back, he said, and 
 he thought that Venice looked pretty on the water, but he immediately 
 modified this eulogy by saying that there was more business done in 
 the New Cut of a Saturday night than in three weeks of Venice. 
 
 We have already given full value to the factors here correctly, as 
 far as they go, appreciated, for we have taken into account in our 
 formulation of the principle of energy not only high development but 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 203 
 
 find that it responds to the principles which we have here 
 laid down — of Sympathy, and in no less a deg-ree, though 
 indirectly, of Energy and Truth. 
 
 The names and works of few great writers from Homer 
 to Sophocles and onwards, and the records of a few great 
 artists and the realization of a few beautiful conceptions of 
 architecture, have descended to us. Then we find in the 
 direct line of the development of our institutions the wonder- 
 ful thoughts, built up in fine sequence, of the men of science, 
 of Thales and Pythagoras, Empedocles and Hipppcrates, 
 Plato and Aristotle, Eratosthenes and Hipparchus, Appo- 
 lonius and Archimedes. Their works remain not merely to 
 stimulate us, but to inform us, even at the present day. 
 
 Let US! now look at the work of some of the Moderns, so 
 that we may perhaps see more clearly the good reason for 
 preferring Pasteur to Francois I, or even Napoleon Bona- 
 parte. Pasteur began his scientific researches in the field 
 of chemistry, particularly in crystallography. He was one 
 of those who' had the clearest perception of the inter-relation 
 of all the sciences, and from these studies he was led to 
 those of minute organisms in the organic world. 
 
 After the defeat of France in 1870 he formed the resolu- 
 tion of applying his scientific skill to the upraising of his 
 country, even in the commercial world. There were two 
 great spheres in which he thoug-ht that he might, with 
 advantage, apply his researches ; one was that of the silk- 
 worm industry, another that of vine culture. In both these 
 industries there had been great loss due to the ravag-es of 
 small organisms, and Pasteur's Avork was successful in com- 
 bating these in both cases. Here is a very simple example 
 of the commercial value of science. The devastations of the 
 phylloxera had been known for generations, but the question 
 of its elimination had never been properly tackled, nor 
 could it have been otherwise than by the means adopted by 
 Pasteur. 
 
 After his first triumph Pasteur continued his researches 
 in allied fields, and showed how to combat anthrax in cattle, 
 and subsequently rabies in dogs and human beings. He 
 also gave the impulsion to the vast amount of work in the 
 whole domain of bacteriology, and although that work is 
 still near its beginnings, it has been of inestimable value in 
 
204 ETHICS 
 
 safeguarding- the human race from some of its most deadly 
 scourges. 
 
 French people who voted preferred Pasteur to Napoleon, 
 although in orthodox histories Napoleon's deeds are 
 blazoned forth in a most exciting manner and with trumpets 
 of eulogy, while Pasteur is hardly mentioned. Napoleon 
 was a man of not less cerebral activity than Pasteur, though 
 on the whole this activity represents a lower level of thought. 
 He was a man extraordinarily well endowed in many particu- 
 lars, and in the early part of his career he figured as one of 
 the heroes of human progress. Then he retrograded, and 
 in the end he left France somewhat diminished territorially 
 and wellnigh exhausted physically. Yet again I feel my 
 admiration for the intelligence of the French people who 
 thought Pasteur's work of regeneration more praiseworthy 
 than the brilliant exploits of slaughter of the conqueror. 
 
 When we look closely into the lives of men of science 
 of that stamp, we find not only the splendour of the actual 
 achievement, but something of heroism, even of a romantic 
 kind, and greater than that of many of the gaudy, vanity- 
 mad figures of history. 
 
 Let us consider for a moment the work of Darwin. That 
 had less in view a direct material interest than the satis- 
 faction of a natural curiosity. Darwin's work attracted 
 attention less by its intrinsic scientific merit than by the 
 fact that his conclusions ran counter to accepted beliefs. 
 It has given rise, however, to a vast amount of research, 
 and the result has given us a clarified view of the operations 
 of nature in the organic world. The immediate material 
 results here are pvossibly less in evidence than in the case of 
 Pasteur's work, but even in the elimination of error a great 
 benefit has accrued, for it has had the effect of diverting 
 human energies of a high value into fertile fields where 
 realities are met with. Eventually the domains of Darwin 
 and of Pasteur will be found to coalesce, and our control 
 of the organic world will be enormously increased. 
 
 I have picked out these one or two examples, not neces- 
 sarily because I think them the most important, and already 
 we begin to have a vision of the great influence of thought 
 at a high level in transforming the character of the world in 
 which we live, like a morsel of leaven fermenting in a vat. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 205 
 
 If we continue researches of this kind we shall discover, 
 as I have already indicated, that whatever is new in the 
 tactual direction of civilization, as apart from its deligrhts or 
 its consolations, has had its orig-in in the thoughts of some 
 student of science who has himself been moved, not by hopes 
 of material advantag-e, but by an irresistible bent in his 
 mind, to bring to lig"ht some truth of nature. 
 
 We may be now better able to appreciate a remark, which 
 was perhaps a little affected and dramatic, of Goethe. On 
 one occasion, receiving a friend from Paris, he inquired 
 eagerly for the news. His friend began to tell him of some 
 troubles of politics ; it was about the time of the Revolution 
 of 1830. 
 
 "Oh, I was not thinking of that," cried Goethe. "I was 
 anxious to hear the latest of the dispute in the French 
 Academy between Cuvier and Geoffrey Saint Hilaire as to 
 the origin of species." 
 
 The Highest Form of Intellectual Aotivity 
 
 A certain suggestion once occurred to me to devise a scale 
 of complexity of development, so as to afford a standard of 
 type of intellect. I was inclined to give the palm to the 
 type of mind which becomes pre-eminent in physics, for I 
 thought that the modes of reasoning there were both more 
 subtle and more sure and more consecutive, while the results 
 which followed seemed proportionately more magnificent. 
 Certainly there is something very attractive in the con- 
 templation of the development of the wonderful apparatus 
 of mathematics, founded on conceptions which in their 
 delicacy have eluded the definition even of many of the great 
 mathematicians who have employed them ; yet giving a sense 
 of solidity and confidence to the structure when once estab- 
 lished ; and then the application of this to the testing of 
 nature, and the winning from deep depths of concealment 
 the most astonishing secrets and brilliant results. 
 
 On the other hand, I once heard a learned professor of 
 Natural History place his own science on a far higher rela- 
 tive plane. He pointed out, and there is real truth in his 
 observation, the narrowness of the immediate intellectual 
 regard of the mathematician, and even of the modes of his 
 
2o6 ETHICS 
 
 speculations; and he contrasted this with the diversity of 
 interests and the more nebulous presentation of the problems 
 in his own science, with the corresponding demand for 
 greater inventiveness and more inspirational flashes of 
 genius. 
 
 My professor was certainly wrong in his disparagement 
 of mathematics, even admitting that, in the complete scope of 
 things and in proper perspective, full allowance must be 
 given for his criticism ; and it is also true that most of his own 
 work was rendered sterile by his refusal, on the grounds 
 of orthodoxy, to accept the lessons of evolution. Yet looking 
 at the matter again, I find that whether a highly developed 
 mind be devoted to mathematics or any kind of physical 
 science, or to the sciences of the organic world, such as 
 bacteriology, there will be found not only an absorbing 
 interest, but opportunity for speculations as subtle, as 
 various or as comprehensive, as lies within the capability of 
 man. 
 
 In the field of physiology, to take almost the first example 
 that arises, how great is the importance of the division 
 between the motor and sensory nerves ; and yet when one 
 knows the way, how simple the means of determination, and 
 how decisive the demonstration ! 
 
 Wherever one touches nature at some high point of 
 vision, and a discovery be made, extraordinary developments 
 arise unthought of by the original investigator. An observa- 
 tion which at first sight might seem trivial becomes at 
 length not less materially important than the discovery of a 
 new land. Thus I can enter fully into the feelings of Van 
 Graaf, who, having in his dissection laid bare the 
 thoracic duct paused with his lancet in hand, almost awe- 
 stricken, before he plunged it into the vessel which would 
 yield him its secret. 
 
 In quite another fashion I can appreciate the germinal 
 idea, and the impulses derived from it, of my friend Nikola 
 Tesla, who said that his imagination had been captured by 
 the conception of power, not that of the power of hectoring 
 other people, but that of drawing from nature's reserves 
 vast energies for the use of the human race. The old Greek 
 philosophers were astonished and rendered curious by the 
 attractive power of rubbed amber; from these speculations 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 207 
 
 we have been led onward till we reach such a conception as 
 that which animated Tesla, of capturing the forces which 
 were going- to waste at Niagara ; and from that again to 
 proceed to still higher conceptions of seizing power and 
 making it so plastic and docile as to solve great industrial 
 problems and to help to foster co-operation between the 
 nations of the world. 
 
 Here I hope not to be misunderstood. If ithe question be 
 put to me directly as to whether I would like the country 
 to be directly ruled by scientific men, I would reply de- 
 cisively : No. 
 
 In the first place it is extraordinarily rare to find a 
 scientific man of wide general culture. Such a type as 
 Leonardo da Vinci is very seldom met with, and then not in 
 a position to ensure acquaintance with affairs. 
 
 It is rare to find a scientific man of wide culture, even 
 tin science, or one who has a complete conception of the 
 inter-relations between the sciences, or one who has a clear 
 view of psychology, or one who has reflected deeply on those 
 questions of ethics which should be the aim tO' which all these 
 intellectual efforts are directed. The reason is that most of 
 the men who achieve high, distinction in science are 
 "specialists," even to ;the extent of ignoring sciences which 
 bear upon their own. In this sense, useful as the product 
 of their researches may be, they seem tO' me not true men of 
 science, at any rate of a high development, but fortunate 
 mechanicians working in a field where exceptional skill is 
 demanded. 
 
 The limitations are sometimes brought about by a real 
 specialization of faculty, but more often on account of dis- 
 tracting influences or conceptions, the exigencies of time, 
 and deficiencies of energy. 
 
 A few men who have fulfilled the requirements of great 
 general culture in science are Aristotle and Roger Bacon, 
 Galileo and Descartes, von Helmholtz and Ampere; but 
 these examples shine as bright particular stars in the galaxy 
 of talent. 
 
 Further, though the width of their regards has aided them 
 in the view of each of the sciences they cultivated, it has 
 
2o8 ■ ETHICS 
 
 also on account of the absorption of time and energy lessened 
 their efficiency in most other sciences. 
 
 If we take the objective view that has been recommended 
 here more than once, and consider the development of the 
 brain as the schema of the intellectual work; and if then we 
 try to gfaug^e the import of that conception in reg^ard to the 
 complete world of activity that sweeps about us, we gain 
 the impression of a small instrument working amid myriad 
 impulses and phenomena and responding to few. Science 
 therefore is in itself an incomplete culture.^ 
 
 As I read the life of Cavendish I felt the pathos of it 
 deeply, and I found my soul invaded even with a strange 
 intimation of fear. I had in fact hitherto attached an over- 
 weening importance to science as a sufficient discipline and 
 culture, and here I seemed to be testing it by the results. 
 
 It may be said that Cavendish was an exceptional type, 
 and certainly even on the purely intellectual side he may not 
 have been quite normal; but the point here is that he was 
 extraordinarily versed in science in the manner in which, 
 science is generally understood. Whatever any other man 
 of science enjoys otherwise is therefore an added grace, not 
 necessarily implied in the culture of science itself. 
 
 As a matter of actual fact, though I do not think that it 
 is inherent in the nature of things, most men of science are 
 deficient in certain qualities that go to make the ordinary 
 well-rounded man of good education. Darwin describes how 
 his sporting proclivities, and then his aesthetic pleasures, 
 gradually left him, until at the end his only taste in this 
 direction was a liking for good engravings. 
 
 These questions are not so simple as they appear at 
 
 * This is seen more plainly when we find a man who is great 
 as a man of science, and who has very few other interests. Cavendish 
 was not a man of science of the highest rank, but he was of that 
 excellent and highly useful type, the man who weighs and measures 
 with extreme care, who examines all arguments and aU hypotheses 
 as far as he can by bringing them to the tests of his instruments of 
 precision, and who devises apparatus for scientific experimentation. 
 
 His life, apart from the achievements summed up in his scientific 
 papers, is singularly devoid of incident. He was extraordinarily 
 lonely, and apparently little touched, or not at all, by the various 
 interests that stir others to enthusiasm, either of war, or politics, 
 or art, or literature, or music, or society, or travel, or sport, or play, 
 or indulgence, or vice, or avarice, or fame, or vanity, or service, or 
 friendship, or love. 
 
STANDARDS OF TYPE 209 
 
 first, and 1 think that a close inquiry into the whole matter 
 will show that it is not the direct influence of science, 
 nor even the absorption of time and energy by science, that 
 accounts for the gradual failure of sesthetic pleasure or 
 livelier delights with men of science ; it is rather that the 
 mode of the life, and the character of the persons in the 
 immediate surroundings, have the greatest influence in this 
 respect. 
 
 That sort of semi-religious cult of science, to which at 
 one time I was inclined to devote myself, has received many 
 rude shocks, for I have found that in general men of science 
 do not regard science as I do, that is to say, as something 
 that opens up to us the windows of heaven, or gives us 
 visions into entrancing vistas of human life; but vulgarly, 
 they take it as a field of exercise of a fine faculty, and they 
 esteem it for the emoluments it brings, or for the honours 
 which follow as the result of success. 
 
 I say this is the prevalent appreciation ; I do not say that 
 there are not others who feel the entrancement of their work 
 for its own sake. But even these, if again they are not men 
 of wide culture, are apt to fall into the error of false perspec- 
 tive ; they magnify their achievements, and they fail to see 
 the great worth of others. This distorted view renders such, 
 men of science unfitted for public affairs.^ 
 
 In a matter of experience we find that whereas in France 
 the men of science who take up public work are usually in the 
 forefront of works of social progress or of ethical value, in 
 this country their tendency has been reactionary, and there 
 have been extraordinarily few examples among them of 
 sympathetic and generous dispositions. 
 
 Also I retrace what I have said about the names and 
 
 ^ One of my experiences which had an amusing side was that 
 once at a celebrated university where I took up a course in 
 quaternions, an interesting branch of mathematics, the professor 
 appeared in class, ill-kempt, awkward, ill-dressed, and not too clean, 
 and completed the picture by pulling down a large flat note-book 
 from between his waistcoat and his shirt. 
 
 On another occasion in conversation with a man of high scientific 
 worth and considerable celebrity, I could not but notice his general 
 negligence even of the ordinary rules of health in nails and teeth. 
 
 Small matters, it may be said. I am not so sure. They are 
 indices, and they point out a man not well balanced in the world, 
 not well educated and not of the " usage " which would fit him to 
 direct affairs beyond his own speciality. 
 O 
 
210 ETHICS 
 
 works of the Greeks which, have descended to us, not to 
 retract or to diminish the force of my words, but to enter a 
 caveat that will call attention to the conditions of each 
 generation of living- men in its turn. They cannot all be 
 men of high science; there are great fields of honourable 
 work which must be kept in active life ; there are the joys, 
 the duties, the affections of all that makes the stuff of life 
 in human society ; there are the arts, the beauty, even the 
 accomplishments of fine physique in splendid sports. 
 
 All these we must view, not merely with large tolerance, 
 but with sympathy and zest and helpful encouragement. 
 What I ask for rather is that there should be recognized as 
 above all this something of higher mien, that kind of human 
 development at its highest peak which implies science, and 
 which is guided by science. 
 
 It is not needful that a specialist, a technician, should 
 be taken immediately as a high ruler ; but the intellectual 
 value of these men, if only by way of advice in their own 
 domains, should be utilized to a degree enormously greater 
 than now. The ruler should not necessarily be a technician 
 in science, but he should be acquainted with its main lines 
 and purport, and particularly he should bring to bear upon 
 his own ptarticular work of direction the scientific spirit and 
 method. 
 
 Finally, all this should come within the scope of the 
 sciences of psychology and ethics. I do not say that because 
 I have cultivated these studies with predilection; rather it is 
 because I have apprehended this truth that I have turned to 
 the technical study of these sciences with devotion. For 
 from psychology we learn the inner secrets of the mechanism 
 of thought, and hence the modes of the development of 
 thought. From ethics we learn to conceive in a true manner 
 man's place in the universe, and to obtain, if not an imme- 
 diate answer to the question of Purpose, at least deep 
 cleaving divisions that guide him in duty. 
 
 Without this all other learning seems shorn of its mean- 
 ing and its flowering ; with these all other science is infused 
 with a spiritual sense. 
 
Part III 
 
 ENCOMPASSING CONDITIONS 
 
 A consideration of certain great encompassing conditions 
 that affect the meaning of Ethics ; such as the Immortality of 
 the Soul ; the Ideal ; tUtimate Purpose. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 The Immortality of the Soul 
 
 Out of a discussion of the principles of ethics the question 
 may not seem to arise necessarily of the immortality of 
 the soul. Yet I think that our conceptions of ethics will 
 become greatly modified according- to the view we take 
 whether this life be the be-all and end-all of our conscious 
 existence, or whether it be but a pause between two infinities 
 or a preparation for a life, or lives, to come. 
 
 That the question is important for morals is already 
 settled by the fact that nearly all the systems of ethics 
 that have ever had authority amongst men have reposed 
 upon that belief as the central article of their faith. In 
 this world we are continually being admonished to be 
 content, to suffer all manner of contumely and neglect, to 
 observe without undue impatience most glaring examples 
 of the inequality of fortune as well as the association of good 
 fortune with qualities which run counter to the standards 
 of the majority of the citizens. One of the most powerful 
 arguments employed by those who would offer us either 
 solace or admonition is that on a future occasion the 
 thoughts and deeds of persons in this world will be summed 
 up with an accuracy of judgment denied to us here, and 
 that the good will be rewarded and the evil punished. 
 
 This doctrine, if it were true, might well reconcile us 
 to bear ill-fortune in the relatively brief space of our mortal 
 lives, for either those misfortunes which plague us are 
 within our powers of endurance, or else at last, under a 
 blow too severe of fate, we succumb, and then only the 
 more promptly and surely ascend to our proper state of 
 beatitude. 
 
 Before examining this position, not merely from that 
 aspect of the matter, but in the deeper relations which 
 remain even when we reject these authorities, I remark in 
 
 213 
 
214 ETHICS 
 
 passing- that the qualities usually signalled out for praise 
 and promise of future reward are not those of high, intel- 
 lectual development or determined search for truth, but 
 obedience, humility, the disposition to resign the direction 
 of our affairs to those who offer us these promises, and the 
 spirit of content with inequalities and the willingness to 
 allow this regime of injustice to continue from generation 
 to generation to the detriment of one class and the material 
 advantage of the other. Any tendency to rebel against these 
 doctrines is met with the most violent opposition and the 
 meanest forms of persecution, while the punishments 
 promised for the wickedness of daring to think reasonably 
 are so vindictive and terrible that, in their very horror, we 
 seem to see glimpses of the frailty of the faith of those 
 who impose them. 
 
 If in an ordinary way of the world a business man or 
 even a guild of financiers in the City, who flourish some 
 ihigh charter before our eyes, were to ask clients to hand 
 them over considerable sums for deposit in the "Bank of 
 O Brasil, The Isle of the Blest," and if they were assured 
 of dividends beyond the dreams of avarice, but not taking 
 place within any definite time, it would hardly seem criminal 
 that even the small dep^ositor should ask some particulars 
 of the foundation of the business, or even of the very 
 existence of the bank; and if some audacious client who 
 had demanded a balance-sheet, or even suggested indepen- 
 dent auditing, were to be seized and imprisoned, with every 
 mark of contumely, and flogged through the streets at the 
 cart's tail, his fellow-depositors might be warranted in 
 entertaining some slight uneasiness as to their own 
 securities. 
 
 Translated into other terms, that little parable indicates 
 the pretensions of most of the Churches, Christian or infidel, 
 which have obtained great sway among extensive popula- 
 tions of men. 
 
 It is evident, for example, that if we are to perform acts 
 of sacrifice and pay taxes of various kinds, both of a material 
 and moral nature^ it should make a real difference to our 
 conduct even in this world whether any of the promises on 
 which we have relied are to be redeemed. 
 
 A disconcerting fact about this sort of spiritual banking 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 215 
 
 is that of the very rivalry of the different establishments. 
 They are incompatible one with the other. That point need 
 not be insisted upon, for some of the bloodiest wars which 
 have ever disgraced humanity, and hosts of most abomin- 
 able acts of persecution, have been based by these establish- 
 ments themselves upon that assumption. If what they 
 promise, then, be something that in regard of one to the 
 other is mutually exclusive, it is evident that they cannot all 
 be true, but it is not proved by that fact alone that any one 
 is not false. 
 
 The very modes of rewards that are offered to us are 
 not attractive to all minds. The conception of eternal bliss, 
 such as I have generally seen pictured, so far from tempting 
 me to strain everything in this life, even to the point of 
 sacrifice, in order to gain these beatitudes, would make me 
 inclined to prefer to their enjoyment even the dubious con- 
 solations of this sinful world. Moreover, the vague pictures 
 which are presented to us seem to be less derived from 
 Divine source, or even nobly conceived in imagination by 
 earthly spirits, thian the translations into refined terms of 
 the little ceremonies and festivals which are the delight of 
 the special class who guide us already to these supernal joys. 
 
 The great mass of the teachings on which the minds of 
 children are formed, and which serve most of us throughout 
 life without further reflection, seems to me to have so little 
 validity that its entire removal leaves the central position 
 unchanged. 
 
 In writing thus I do not speak with scorn, but rather 
 with profound sympathy for fellow-beings, with a spirit of 
 one sharing the same hopes and traversing the same route, 
 daring to march a little ahead, and seeking to ascend some 
 higher peak from which some prospect may be obtained of 
 the farther route of the pilgrimage. I turn round and I 
 behold the caravans of humanity struggling bravely onwards, 
 their lips parched for lack of refreshment, their eyes grown 
 weary in searching, their souls tried but not despairing; 
 and I know the aspirations, the yearning feelings linking 
 them in memory with those who have already departed, the 
 love which binds together those who are taking part side 
 by side in the same campaign, and the desolating fear that 
 separation might mean not merely death, but extinction of 
 
2i6 ETHICS 
 
 all that made living- worth while, the blotting out for 
 ever of the meaning- of those affections which have sup- 
 ported them amidst the greatest trials and for which each 
 one would willingly surrender his own personal life. 
 
 But it is this very sympathy, and the ardency of the 
 desire to find something true on which to build, that makes 
 me reject decisively all that is intentionally false or delusive 
 to the imagination. If we find any grain of truth, we know 
 that the truth of the whole universe is consistent with it. 
 If any position be false, then, no matter how it may be 
 bolstered up or rendered attractive or dazzling to our eyes 
 by all manner of glorification or heightening of the sense 
 of spirituality, we know that the whole set of events of the 
 universe is against it ; and so, now endeavouring to trace 
 out from the constitution of the world itself the lines of a 
 true religion or the principles of ethics, for ultimately they 
 mean the same thing, we find that : the one atheism is the 
 denial of truth. 
 
 If we disregard error, rejecting the thousand persuasions 
 that might make it seem advantageous to accept it, we 
 ought to be the bolder in the search for truth. Let us see, 
 then, what lights we have in any philosophies of any age or 
 in any revelation that we can receive or test at least by our 
 reason. 
 
 Plato's Phsedo 
 
 One of the most famous essays in literature is that of 
 the Phaedo of Plato, in which he discourses of the immor- 
 tality of the soul. Though the product of a pagan mind, it 
 has had great influence in the moulding of Christian belief, 
 and has been the basis of nearly everything written on the 
 subject since the day of the old Greek philosopher. Addison, 
 in his play of *'Cato," represents to us the Roman stoic 
 reading Plato's discourse, and allowing it to persuade him 
 in regard to an important act — to wit, that of taking his 
 own life. "It must be so," Cato says, according to 
 Addison. ** Plato, thou reasonest well ! " 
 
 I have read the Phaedo, perhaps in a cooler vein and 
 with more critical mind than Cato, and I have been forced 
 to conclude that neither Cato nor Addison was very exacting 
 in his demand for conclusive argument. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 217 
 
 Speaking on broad lines, the Phaedo, which represents 
 the opinions and modes of argument of Socrates, is divided 
 into two parts. The first prepares the mind to accept 
 death. The arguments are those which were long afterwards 
 rendered familiar in Christian times by the saints and ascetics 
 in mediaeval ages. They run upon the conception of the 
 bcKiy being an unworthy receptacle, a clog to the spirit. 
 The body, moreover, endues the mind with falsity through 
 the senses.^ 
 
 The second part of Plato's discourse deals more directly 
 with the question of the immortality of the soul in itself. 
 Here again we have a series of notions which have influenced 
 a long lineage of thinkers, including Kant and Berkeley, as 
 well as the teachers of Christianity. 
 
 Plato's arguments are conducted by way of dialogue, 
 and they are embellished with the charm of a fine literary 
 art. In order to examine their real worth as arguments, 
 we find it necessary to defend ourselves from the subtle 
 influences of this literary style, and also to exercise a vigilant 
 watch on the places where one of the characters of the 
 dialogue cheerfully accepts some statement which has been 
 put forward without warrant and prepares the way to glide 
 with facility into the next position, which may have no 
 necessary dependence upon the first. 
 
 Exhibited in skeleton form, Plato's main arguments are 
 that Contraries produce Contraries, and that, as Death 
 springs from Life, Life springs from Death. Then he proves 
 in his suave style of assumption that the Soul had an 
 existence before the Body, and he imputes to the Soul know- 
 ledge which is the representative in remembrance of previous 
 
 ^ Notions of this kind greatly influence Kant in the building up 
 of his " Transcendental Philosophy," and subsequently Berkeley in 
 his theory of Idealism. I have, in " Psychology : A New System " 
 and " Principles of Psychology," examined these theories by modes 
 of reasoning which consist in obtaining a base more fundamental, 
 and proceeding thence by arguments more cogent and rigorous than 
 those either of Plato, or Kant, or Berkeley ; and I find the systems 
 erring at the base. It would be inconsistent with the value of truth 
 in itself if from false principles they reached higher and greater 
 results than those based upon true principles. Consequently, I find 
 each of these three thinkers in turn carried away by the fumes of 
 his false notions and talking what to the practical sense becomes 
 evident at length as bedizened nonsense. 
 
2i8 ETHICS 
 
 experiences. He asserts that the Soul is simple and 
 immaterial, and therefore different from those compounded 
 bodies which alone are subject to dissolution. Then he 
 brings in an argument that in a well-ordered vniverse each 
 thing finds its appropriate good, and he asks wherein the 
 particular good of the Soul consists. Evidently it can only 
 consist in continued life, and life continued indefinitely is 
 immortality. 
 
 I will not, point by point, traverse Plato's arguments. 
 Where they seem to have any cogency at all they really 
 assume what is desired to be proved, though the petitio 
 principii may be deftly hid beneath the graceful phrasing. 
 Of such, for instance, is the argument derived from the 
 affirmation that the Soul had an existence before the body. 
 It would seem to me easier, and more in the direction of 
 least resistance, to turn the argument the other way ; to 
 make the assumption that the Soul is immortal, and then to 
 reason that the Soul, thus assured of an existence after the 
 body, must have had existence before the body. 
 
 Plato has exercised a wonderful authority as a thinker. 
 No further weight should be attached to that fact than such 
 as gives us the incentive to probe his thoughts with the 
 most determined analysis and to test his arguments inexor- 
 ably with the demand for rigour. If they have validity, they 
 will rise only the stronger from this ordeal. As a matter 
 of fact, they have no value of this sort, and the history 
 of civilization is there to convince us that in a hundred 
 realms beliefs may permeate the minds of men and influence 
 their acts from generation to generation for two thousand 
 years and yet be false. 
 
 The Greek philosopher failed to convince his own ardent 
 pupil, Aristotle, who when he left his school had become 
 disgusted, and cured, of Plato's mysticism. To have given 
 the impulse, even by means of a spirit of contradiction, to 
 Aristotle's great mind, in his course of exploration of the 
 world of realities — that seems to me to be the most useful 
 product of such a discourse as that of the Phaedo. 
 
 St. Paul 
 
 The next philosopher who may be here noticed is one 
 who has influenced the minds of men to a greater extent 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 219 
 
 than Plato; that is to say, directly and by the immediate 
 prestige of his name, for most of the notions seem to me 
 to derive from Plato, only to be presented in a less brilliant 
 and weaker form by the new thinker : I mean the Apostle, 
 Paul. 
 
 In examining- his arguments, I am not now dealing with 
 any question of inspiration. That rests on a plane remote 
 from the one limited instrument on which I have relied to 
 build up both the Principles of Psychology and the Principles 
 of Ethics. That instrument is reason. If, however, ideas, 
 though derived from inspiration, be presented in the form 
 of argument, then it is competent for reason to seize upon 
 them in their passage and to examine in how far they 
 conform to its own standards. 
 
 Judged in this way, the celebrated discourse of Paul 
 seems to me to be not only feeble, but couched in such a 
 manner as to be addressed only to inferior minds. 
 
 The chief argument is that derived from the new growth 
 from the seed that is planted in the ground. That is not 
 an argument in favour of immortality in the individual, but 
 only one of the myriad illustrations of the familiar fact of 
 the reproduction of the race. Moreover, even in the descrif>- 
 tion of this process, although he takes the notions that were 
 current in his day, he gives no hint of a deeper and more 
 spiritual idea of the continuance of life. He derives life from 
 death, incorruption from corruption. A modern biologist 
 more enlightened will see in the whole process a continuation 
 of life from living cell to living cell, and even in what Paul 
 dismisses as corruption he would find beyond that gross, 
 material view a series of changes, mysterious activities, 
 leading our minds on delicate filaments to conceptions of 
 wonder and of beauty. 
 
 From St. Paul onward all the philosophers who have 
 wrestled with the problem of the immortality of the soul 
 have been less concerned to find the truth than to defend 
 .some dogma or position received by them in trust from their 
 theological forbears. When the matter is presented in this 
 bald way it seems indefensible, but when their minds are once 
 infected with the dregs of old religious disputes they never 
 do arrive at the candour which permits of such a simple 
 statement. They fill themselves with the assurance that to 
 
220 ETHICS 
 
 defend a certain doctrine is noble, patriotic, sanctified, 
 imbued with high spiritual qualities. 
 
 Once again I am concerned only with the truth. I am 
 even unable to understand the satisfaction that can be 
 obtained in maintaining- any assertion that is at variance 
 with the truth. Were I to allow myself the same latitude 
 of assumption that to others seems praiseworthy in Kant, 
 or in Paul, or in Plato, I could prove anything; but having 
 arrived that far, and finding myself free of the domain, with 
 no obstacle in the shape of verity, I cannot conceive myself 
 as being content to build up a world of bliss with the 
 materials of sterile metaphysical discussions, ex-sanguined 
 joys of humanity, spectral delights, or hysterical evapora- 
 tions. I would set afloat a world, certainly of flesh and 
 blood, for that is hitherto all of which we have cognizance, 
 but a world of brilliant achievement and dazzling energy, 
 where every faculty had reached its maximum of power, 
 where even to breathe was a delight, where to throw a 
 shadow of beauty was to cast a boon upon the world, and 
 where perfect grace of physical movement was linked har- 
 moniously with happy exercise of mind and fulfilment of splen- 
 did aspirations. It is possible that such a world may yet be 
 realized. In the meantime we must turn our gaze upon the 
 baffling world that we knew and endeavour to read its riddle. 
 
 Berkeley 
 
 Bishop Berkeley was one of those who arrogate to them- 
 selves the faculty of shaping the world to their content. 
 Certainly he did not profit much by his privilege, for in the 
 freedom of his imagination he gave us even of this very 
 present world a fantastic account, of which the occasional 
 outcome in sheer folly ought to have warned him that some 
 faulty reasonings lay on the way. The logical outcome, 
 not of the true theory of idealism, but of Berkeley's render- 
 ing of that theory, would be that only one mind existed as 
 far as its world was concerned. 
 
 Thus the Berkeleyian idealist would speak : The whole 
 world is but a mode of my mind, and you to whom I address 
 myself are only so many strange winding ways of myself, 
 devious paths full of surprises, disasters, even unexpected 
 blessings, yet almost, as yet, unexplored. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 221 
 
 Berkeley found, not by a patient analysis but rather by 
 a sudden flash of his intuition, that all our impressions 
 resolved into ideas; so finally, he said, all of life. And in 
 the next throb of ecstasy of a deeply relig-ious mind, the whole 
 problem of Faith, Immortality, God-head, all troublous 
 doubts and haunting- fears, were solved. That is to say, 
 to Bishop Berkeley's perfect content. The material world 
 vanished at his touch. There was no Matter. The 
 Materialists therefore had sunk into the abyss. Berkeley 
 had cut the ground from under their feet. They had no 
 material on which to live. 
 
 Allow it once to come to your mind, that fine flash of 
 Berkeley, once become seized by the significance of the im- 
 pulse that urged him on, and the whole of his work becomes 
 lucid. The scope of that work may even be anticipated, 
 and the exertion be spared of reading- throug^h his works, 
 for when Berkeley is not inspired he loses all touch of the 
 nature of things, and talks in high-strained mystic divaga- 
 tions. The legend that to Berkeley's mind would seem to 
 have been set in flaming symbols on his banner had this 
 one transcendent meaning : I have rescued God. 
 
 All these mystic fumes and roseate clouds have pre- 
 cipitated into something tangible. Berkeley's conclusions 
 were inimical to science, but the only portion of his work 
 which has any permanent value is a contribution tO' the theory 
 of vision. This may be disengaged from his metaphysical 
 speculations, and it serves to illuminate a certain tract of 
 psychology. 
 
 Spiritualism 
 
 Eachi generation seizes upon some new avenue of 
 approach to this question of immortality, and this very 
 diversity of doctrines tends rather to indicate that none of 
 those preceding have offered conclusive arguments. In our 
 own day Spiritualism has become relatively important. If 
 we were to believe all the stories that are related to us, in 
 perfect good faith and with an abundance of proofs of a 
 kind, we might consider the whole question solved once 
 and for all, and regard the next world as little more remote 
 from us in association than Paris is from London. 
 
 It would be out of place in this volume tO' examine the 
 
222 ETHICS 
 
 whole case for or against Spiritualism. That has already 
 been made a subject of a g^reat number of imposing books, 
 but one or two general observations that govern the case 
 seem to be called for in discussing the question of the 
 immortality of the soul. 
 
 In the first place, why is it that Spiritualism is of such 
 recent origin? It may be argued that Spiritualism is as old 
 as the hills, and that history and Holy Writ itself contain 
 many allusions to ghosts and spirits of the next world, and to 
 their intimations, generally by way of warning, to important 
 persons in this world. But even if in all this we see fair 
 grounds on which to base Spiritualism, we know of no era 
 comparable to that of the last two generations where the 
 belief in Spiritualism and the practice of the communications 
 have been so active and so extensive. 
 
 This fact is usually put forward, not merely as a proof 
 of the vitality of this new religion, but as a good ground for 
 believing the truth of its tenets. To me that argument is 
 somewhat disquieting. My reasoning is as follows : When 
 men first began to observe electrical phenomena, they found 
 by accident that here and there certain effects were pro- 
 duced. The same kind of effects were always produced in 
 similar circumstances. Before the secret, in so far as we 
 possess it nowadays, was discovered, we were dependent 
 upon these hazards for our observations, and they were no 
 more abundant at one time than at another. When at length 
 we had arrived so far as to be able to control, to some extent, 
 the phenomena, we obtained abundant manifestations, and 
 gradually we have drawn from the great reservoir of nature 
 various forms of energy which we have made useful for our 
 own human purposes. 
 
 Now we do not know anything of the mechanism by 
 which spiritualistic phenomena are produced, and we ascribe 
 the activities to the initiative of the beings on the other side, 
 though they require mediums, so called, through which to 
 make their manifestations intelligible. The mediums do not 
 themselves initiate such manifestations. They themselves 
 are the first to assert that fact, and they rely upon that 
 assertion to safeguard their good faith and to help to give 
 confidence to others. 
 
 Now long before the Fox family in America began to 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 223 
 
 receive messages from the other world, in the simple and 
 even somewhat puerile form of tapping- on tables, many 
 persons highly endowed had passed over to the other side, 
 and many of extraordinarily sensitive and receptive nature 
 had remained for a while upK>n the earth. When I say 
 many persons, the mind in endeavouring to ascertain the 
 meaning of such a term in these circumstances is carried 
 away in a vista without end sweeping down throughout the 
 centuries, and the senses reel with the vision of the untold 
 millions of human beings. 
 
 The name and the fame and the works of some of these 
 have been preserved in human history as a testimony of the 
 admiration of men of the heights to which the intellect can 
 reach. How is it, then, that none of these had initiated 
 manifestations? If it be replied that the medium was also 
 necessary, how is it that nowadays mediums may be picked 
 up so easily and in the most unexpected surroundings, and 
 with qualifications, or the lack of qualifications, which dis- 
 concert the inquirer? The mediums are very often un- 
 educated people and also unintelligent, apart from the 
 exercise of this particular function, and yet they are able 
 to summon at will, and for a very moderate pecuniary 
 reward, the spirits of Socrates, or Dante, or Shakespeare ; 
 and these great ones consent to interpret to a small group 
 of friends the conditions of the other world, and as a 
 further gracious mark of favour, give that message in the 
 vernacular of the medium expressed in the manner of 
 Shoreditch. 
 
 The Spiritualists in their endeavour to prove their 
 doctrine have, I think, fallen into the error of proving too 
 much. We have lately read, not in the style of impressive 
 declaration but by way of ordinary narratives in the popular 
 press, stories of the next world which make one rub the eyes 
 in bewilderment. These stories do not bring us to a higher 
 spiritual plane, but they introduce us to a prolongation of 
 the themes which have interested us here. Quarrels, religious 
 discussions, the themes discussed in public-houses and, 
 moreover, even in that mystic world, discussed in spiritual 
 public-houses whose atmosphere is little distinguishable from 
 ours, and where, according to one of the best informed of 
 
224 ETHICS 
 
 our great authorities in Spiritualism, spiritual whiskies and 
 sodas are commonly drunk and enjoyed ! ^ 
 
 We have had examples which strain our credence even 
 beyond that point, examples which seem almost too trivial 
 or too airy to be mentioned, were it not for the fact that 
 grave men of science have bent their brows over the proofs 
 presented, and after much examination have been inclined 
 to accept the testimony. Thus we have a young girl from 
 the country who has photographed fairies. This was an 
 exploit in itself, but what will be thought of this wonder 
 when these transmuted beings have carried their complacence 
 so far as to p>ose for her in bobbed hair and ballet skirts? 
 
 There were profane people who asserted, for that very 
 reason, that the photographs had been prepared by a process 
 well within the skill of ordinary photographers, and that the 
 model that came most readily to hand was some representa- 
 tion such as uninspired individuals exhibit for advertisements 
 of pantomimes or for the decoration of chocolate boxes. To 
 this pass does the discussion of Spiritualism lead ! 
 
 I will leave the matter there without pressing too hard 
 for a judgment. 
 
 There is one consideration which to my mind has greater 
 force than anything I have yet seen advanced, either by the 
 upholders or the opponents of Spiritualism. 
 
 The point is, that the Spiritualists, or those who have 
 in any way pretended to have communications with the other 
 world, have added nothing new to our knowledge. They 
 have told us of many strange, and even startling, incidents, 
 but all of these are fabricated by new combinations out of 
 the old stuff of our thought. 
 
 To make this matter clearer, I would point out the results 
 of exploration even upon our earth. No navigator has ever 
 returned from a long voyage of discovery who has not 
 brought something new into our knowledge, something more 
 extraordinary than anything hitherto imagined by poet or 
 humorist, such as flying fish, or the sprouting whales that 
 alarmed Nearchus, or kangaroos that amused Cook's sailors, 
 or the octopus. All these have become familiar to us now, 
 but they had never been delineated before being discovered. 
 
 ^ Cf. Raymond ; Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 225 
 
 Then, too, we have from the record of the circum- 
 navigfation of Africa under the Pharaoh Necho the extra- 
 ordinary story which Herodotus set down, though perhaps 
 not believing- it, that during- part of their voyage the navi- 
 gators found the sun on their left side as they sailed west and 
 at another on the right side for a westward course. This 
 experience is very familiar to us now, but for its entire 
 explanation it was necessary to reach a conception of the 
 structure of the solar system beyond the imagination of the 
 people of that time. There, within a limited scope of human 
 experience was brought to light a fact so significant that 
 it baffled explanation until the thinking faculty had become 
 expanded and illuminated to a higher degree than had 
 hitherto been reached. 
 
 Then, again, suppose that the King of Siam had sent 
 ari expedition into unknown seas and that the adventurers 
 had returned and had asserted that they had seen water 
 solid ; there again would have been an experience so extra- 
 ordinary that it could not be explained without enlarging 
 the scope of our knowledge with regard to matter and 
 introducing new conceptions of great fertility. 
 
 If then the mind were to take a flight not merely to 
 different parts of this circumscribed sphere, but into space, 
 and into an unknown world where the ordinary laws of 
 nature, as we know them on earth, do not prevail, we should 
 surely expect something better and even more wonderful 
 than any compound of the things which we already know. 
 Certainly Spiritualists have strained their imaginations in 
 order to present us with incidents even to the degree of 
 being fantastic or absurd, but that does not correspond with 
 what we have a right to demand. The communications from 
 the other world have brought in no essentially fresh idea, 
 have informed us really of nothing new, have predicted 
 nothing, have explained nothing, have given us no deeper 
 conceptions of science, or helped to raise our power of 
 thought, or to extend the scope of the intellect. 
 
 Instead of that, we have had presented to us something 
 of what we might have anticipated beforehand if we set 
 down the communications to the somewhat forced combina- 
 tions of ideas of persons whose habit of mind and scope of 
 thought we knew. Thus an imaginative young lady gives 
 if 
 
226 ETHICS 
 
 US a fairy-like dream of the other world. A man about town 
 is unable to rise out of his habitual associations. From his 
 telling- one would think that the next world was a haphazard 
 reproduction of Piccadilly Circus. A pious clergfyman, on 
 the other hand, if he be a devotee of Spiritualism, gives us 
 stories of extraordinary prolixity, from which one would 
 infer that the chief happiness of man consisted in ceremonies, 
 in which white vestments play an important part, together 
 with all sorts of rituals, and consecrations and ordainings, 
 and gathering's in a well-ordered choir-like array, singling 
 the while hymns of mediocre intellectual value. 
 
 Naturally every one is desirous of obtaining^ some know- 
 ledg^e of their relatives or friends who have died before them. 
 On the other hand, nothing- is gained by deceit or even by 
 self-deception, yet this frame of mind seems to be deliberately 
 cultivated by some Spiritualists. A book written recently 
 by a lady whose title gave particular weight to her words 
 has somewhat naively described this state of mind. She 
 says that it is easy to believe if you make up your mind 
 to believe, and that it is extraordinarily consoling- to believe, 
 and that therefore when the offer is made on these terms, 
 of close communication with those who have been loved on 
 earth, it seems ungrateful not to accept. Finally, in this 
 frame of mind the desire to believe will produce belief, 
 and if the critical faculty be henceforth banished with 
 appropriate scorn the faith will stand every admissible 
 test. 
 
 To all this I would reply again that the one governing 
 question is not of gratitude or consolation, but of truth. 
 If these stories be not true, then we must put them aside, 
 for as compared with the marvel of the universe we have 
 already found the fancies of the most exalted poets to be 
 puerile. What therefore I demand is proof that will stand 
 the most crucial test. That is the kind of proof which 
 science is always asking for, and which never overthrows 
 but continually reaffirms any valid principle. I will leave 
 this subject now, not wishing to return to it until I hear 
 from the other side of something that gives me a new 
 light, a higher degree of thought, and a more illuminated 
 vision. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 227 
 
 What is the Origin of the Universe? 
 
 There is a question beyond the scope of Spiritualism 
 which seems to baffle human thought and drive the mind 
 towards the brink of madness. That is the question of the 
 origin of things. This earth is but a small part of the solar 
 system, and the solar system is but a small part of the uni- 
 verse. Expand tliought out to the remotest confines of which 
 we have any inkling; what then? What contains all this? 
 Pierce veil upon veil, unwrap fold upon fold of the reality 
 which encompasses us. To what definite thing do we ever 
 arrive? What is the commencement of it all? And what 
 is the meaning of commencement? Of origin? Can we 
 ever entertain the idea of a condition of nothingness? Of 
 infinite void? And what would be the meaning of "infinite" 
 then? 
 
 Our poor human reason cannot think of anything that 
 never had a beginning, a source, a lodgment ; and yet to 
 conceive of the beginning of the universe — that is the im- 
 possible thought. When the mind tries to form a conception 
 of the inner springs of things and rises from possible 
 revelation to revelation till it stands confronted with the 
 problem : What if all this had never been — ^what had there 
 been then ? It is then that thought is too terrible ; the towers 
 of the mind begin to totter in madness. 
 
 The Monad Conception 
 
 Reflecting upon such matters I was once travelling in a 
 remote part of a beautiful country at night, sitting in a 
 railway carriage alone. Suddenly the light went out, and 
 I stood up and looked out of the window. The night was 
 fine and singularly beautiful, the full moon shining with 
 marvellous brightness in the heavens. Yet the flakes of 
 dark cloud now and then drifting before the face of the moon, 
 the long stretch of bog-land before my eyes, the strangeness, 
 the silence, and the wildness of the landscape did not fail of 
 their effect. I was seized with a feeling not so much of 
 melancholy as of a sense of all manner of exquisite desires 
 unfulfilled; and presently the one touch wanting to have 
 led my thoug'hts to the contemplation of the old fascinating 
 problem was suddenly supplied. 
 
228 ETHICS 
 
 Near the railway line ran a long- strip of still water that 
 reflected the moon and the clouds almost as distinctly as 
 they apj>eared to direct vision ; and looking- down, gazing 
 into this ispace so living in its character, so profound and 
 yet so apparitional, my mind reverted to the philosophy of 
 the idealists, or rather to those quick and seizing little hints 
 thereof that Emerson has touched upon in various ways. 
 Here was a world as vast, as clear, as that in which we 
 live and move, and yet withal insubstantial as a dream. The 
 mind was led to the suggestions of Spinoza, of Leibnitz, that 
 a monad contained potentially the universe. Now in this 
 strip of lake water, narrow juts of land ran out at intervals, 
 and these interrupting the reflection, it so happened that 
 suddenly the whole world vanished. The moon was 
 annihilated, only to reappear at a further distance. I being 
 the same, the world of appearances had vanished and become 
 resurrected. Thoughts that had seemed to stretch towards 
 infinity had shrunk suddenly into nothingness, then at a 
 touch reawakened. 
 
 In my notes at the time I referred to Kant and Berkeley. 
 I have since reviewed this whole problem, and a much wider 
 one that contains it.^ 
 
 I found the analyses of Berkeley and Kant insufficient. 
 I have shown that proceeding from the principle of idealism, 
 and holding to it with complete consistency, we may arrive 
 at a conception of objectivity, just as definite, but more 
 precise and intelligible, than that of the Common-sense school. 
 The principle of idealism, is therefore sufficient for our inter- 
 pretation of the universe, but when, with a new cast of 
 mind, we regard the thoughts of another person, or of our- 
 selves viewed objectively, we see that our conceptions must 
 necessarily be limited. They are limited, for one thing, by 
 the gamut of those little organic harps held up in space 
 which we call our organs of sense, and which respond only 
 to a small proportion of those vibrations which, in another 
 manner, we know objectively to exist. 
 
 The Material Gonditions of GonBoiouBness 
 
 I speak here of the organs of sense, but elsewhere I have 
 entered more extensively into the question as to the total 
 
 1 In " Psychology : A New System " and " Principles of Psychology." 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 229 
 
 sources of our impressions or knowledge of any kind. I 
 have shown that to every thought is correlated a physical 
 condition. 
 
 This assertion may be attacked as materialistic. There- 
 fore here I want to say a few words with reference to that 
 aspect. There are people, even those of eminence in the 
 world of science, who speak as,' if thought were a product of 
 the brain ; as if an idea were lodged in a brain cell, and 
 even as if thought were a kind of substance excreted by the 
 brain in its activity. Under such a definition, materialism 
 is simply crude folly. Thought, I must repeat, is different 
 from brain substance. The scent of violets does not resemble 
 a piece of nerve tissue, nor is the colour of the sky an 
 excretion of the brain. 
 
 When a new impression reaches the brain from the 
 external world, an impulse is given to a sensory nerve ; 
 that impulse finds its way through devious paths to the 
 brain. Its route is probably immensely more irregular than 
 that of a traveller in the centre of London who changes 
 trains at successive stations before reaching his journey's 
 end. Arrived at a ganglion of the brain, the impulse pro- 
 duces a little buzz of excitement, the stream of blood at the 
 place flows a little faster and warmer, and new^ impulses are 
 sent from this centre. But all this when looked at from the 
 outside, even if our senses were so fine that we could trace 
 the movements of the molecules themselves, all this would 
 give us not the slightest clue to the idea, to the thought. 
 
 The thought is something that follows after such physical 
 phenomena; the thought is not a physical phenomenon. To 
 say that there is a leap or passage over the interval from 
 the material world to^ the psychical world is simply to make 
 use of an image that has no warrant ; that is nothing more 
 than a gloss of words. All that we can assert is that to 
 every thought there is a physical correlative. I reject there- 
 fore completely the position of the crude materialists, but 
 I find that some so-called idealists are equally crude. 
 
 An idealist, for instance, will open his eyes if he wants 
 to see. That is to say, he removes the outer curtain of the 
 lids which prevents the waves of light striking on the retinae. 
 What would he think if one were to accuse him of gross 
 materialism, because he had lifted his eyelids? But at what 
 
230 ETHICS 
 
 stage, then, of the physical process is he to intervene with 
 his disrespectful epithet? Evidently he cannot properly 
 intervene at any part of the process with the notion of 
 stopping- it there, so as to keep unsullied his notion of 
 idealism. 
 
 Now we are coming near the crux of the discussion. If 
 the senses be necessary to produce impressions or ideas or 
 thoughts, then if the senses cease to function, thought, it 
 may be said, must necessarily cease. I do not know that 
 that argument is correct. The physical antecedent is neces- 
 sary to our thoughts, as we kneAV them, within a limited 
 scope of experience, but when we are dealing with such 
 questions as the universe and immortality, we should 
 recognize how limited that experience is. 
 
 A man is imprisoned, let us imagine, in a darkened cell, 
 and no light enters except through a small pane of glass 
 which has been purpyosely obscured. All the impressions that 
 he receives from the outside world come by way of that 
 obscure pane. Suddenly, as if for instance by an explosion 
 from outside, the walls begin to shake, the pane becomes 
 more and more obscure, the light fails. Then this is the 
 end of all? 
 
 The light of new impressions has ceased, then with a 
 more violent concussion the whole wall falls down, and 
 suddenly, in an unimagined manner, floods of new impres- 
 sions stream uf>on him in enormously greater variety and 
 clearness than before. Who can say that nothing analogous 
 may happen to the soul at death, if indeed there be a soul? 
 
 I have found no great illumination from the technical 
 psycholc^ists, but in the writings of good Sir Thomas 
 Browne, author of "Religio Medici," I find these remarkable 
 words : 
 
 " Every man is months older than he bethinks him . . . for 
 besides that general and common existence we are conceived 
 to hold in our chaos, and whilst we sleep within the bosom of 
 our causes, we enjoy a being and a life, in three distinct 
 worlds, wherein we receive most manifest gradations. In 
 that prenatal world our time is short, computed by the moon, 
 yet longer than the days of many creatures that behold the 
 sun ; ourselves being not yet without life, sense, and reason ; 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 231 
 
 though for the manifestations of its actions, it awaits the 
 opportunity of objects, and seems to live there but in its 
 root and soul of vegetation. Entering afterwards upon the 
 scene of the world, we rise up and become another creature ; 
 performing the reasonable actions of man, and obscurely 
 manifesting that part of divinity in us, but not in complement 
 and perfection, till we have once more cast our secundine, 
 that is this slough of flesh, and are delivered into the last 
 world." 
 
 For the reasons I have advanced I find that we are 
 entitled to hold as inconclusive the argument that necessarily 
 conscious life in another world must depend on the senses in 
 the manner in which we know of these in this world. 
 
 Deity and Design 
 
 The question of immortality is linked with that of the 
 existence of a Deity, but the association is not inevitable. 
 An atheist believes that he is enjoying this world without a 
 God ; there is nothing in that fact alone to inhibit the thought 
 that he shall traverse another world without a God. On the 
 other hand, a religious person may believe in God, and yet 
 think that his own experience in this world will make the 
 sum of his conscious life. 
 
 Nevertheless, I think that the existence of a God, and 
 also the existence of design in the world, lend strength to 
 the argument for immortality, because the very fact of 
 creation implies a meaning for that creation, and since we 
 have no other standard higher, a perfection of that design. 
 
 It is not uncommon for people nowadays to assume a 
 certain superiority in laughing at the argument of design, 
 which they associate with Paley. I attach, on the contrary, 
 great value to this argument, though I have little regard for 
 Paley. I do not think the suggestion was original with him. 
 I find it put forth with much greater power and scientific 
 knowledge in the discourse of the great anatomist, Bell, on 
 the Hand. Paley 's argument is derived from the mechanism 
 of a watch, but that is also valid as far as it goes. This 
 consideration is easily separated of the old false teleology as, 
 for instance, of the good pious man who thanked Providence 
 for making the rivers run through the towns. 
 
232 ETHICS 
 
 But we can rise from Paley's watch, or Bell's hand, to 
 a much higher and more universal conception. As our 
 knowledge of the external world increases we become more 
 and more impressed with a sense of its order and regularity. 
 Our solar system itself is a piece of architecture of a 
 wondrous kind, beyond the highest reaches of our thought, 
 yet it is built upon a simple plan, and the main law is 
 capable of a form of expression easily understood. 
 
 Yes, it will be argued that these laws are the expressions 
 of our own mind in the endeavour to understand, and make a 
 tally of, the working of phenomena. Yes, again — but what 
 is it in the external world that allows us to reach these 
 simple and harmonious formulations? The atheist replies : 
 It is all mere chance. 
 
 To this again I reply : What is chance, and what created 
 chance? If everything depended upon chance, "on the 
 fortuitous clash of atoms," then if everything had been 
 arranged in order by chance except one essential element, 
 out of a million million, the order which would otherwise 
 take place would have disappeared. I will not pursue the 
 argument of chance further, because it is evidently both 
 gratuitous and crude. 
 
 We may accept as proved, and with the demonstration as 
 complete as we reach in any matter — more complete than 
 that of the negative arguments — that the world is ordered, 
 that the whole procession of phenomena move according to 
 simple harmonious laws, and that the various lesser 
 harmonies that we encompass are but parts of a completer 
 plan. Let us therefore at this stage sum up all the argu- 
 ments. 
 
 It is not well to rest upon reasons which are themselves 
 faulty. We can find arguments which are sound and which 
 suffice. We must not evade the arguments of denial. We 
 must face these, accepting all that they prove, but probing 
 and testing every position. We find, then, that these argu- 
 ments are not conclusive. We find that there is nothing in 
 science inconsistent with the conception of the immortality of 
 the soul. 
 
 Then when we look abroad upon the world and see how 
 each part which, taken separately, would be incomplete or 
 meaningless, yet joins in with the general perfection, then 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 233 
 
 we are entitled at least to hope that in our human thoughts, 
 the most wonderful of all that we behold or feel, there will 
 be the same working" out to some eventual harmony. Other- 
 wise would be found in vain all our g^reater hopes, our deeper 
 affections, and all those inexting^uishable aspirations which 
 give the stimulus and glory to human life. Even the very 
 madness of our endeavour, "the despair of a soul searching 
 an answer, the mutiny, the impious rage, the searching out 
 devilish inventions " — these are often a tendency to the same 
 great purpose. 
 
 I am content to leave it at that. The bewilderment, the 
 fever, the subtly intimated prepossessions, the drift of the 
 mind towards a larger expansion, the forcing outlet for a 
 high part of the being, all that is at least a primordial 
 instinct of all of us. And though the certitude never arrive 
 to us, yet we are nourished in the hope of immortality, and 
 it is at least in the hours of deepest contemplation, of most 
 inspired thought, of noblest aspirations, not only in the p>ower 
 of our individual life, but towards the larger harmonies of the 
 world that sweeps about us, that the aerial voice whispers 
 its note within our ear, that the mystic hand seems stretched 
 from above to sustain us. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Ideals and Purpose 
 
 In discussing- ideals and purpose we are in danger of losing 
 the firm supports of reason on which we hitherto relied in 
 the establishment of the main principles. We seem here 
 to be entering into the hazardous reg^ions of poetry and 
 speculation, and to live in an atmosphere possibly of illu- 
 sions, and at best associated with a sort of weakness despised 
 by "the strong- sons " of earth. 
 
 In the assemblies of the men who are most active in 
 carrying- on the world's affairs there is seldom any appeal 
 to an ideal, except where that is something of convention, 
 such as loyalty to a party or to a form of government. The 
 speeches that are most appreciated are those in which the 
 standards, definitely expressed or tacitly assumed, are those 
 usual in business, such as can be assessed in a ledger, or 
 those that recognize authority derived from material things 
 and capable of enforcing- material sanctions. 
 
 I would be loath, then, to suggest that the actions of indi- 
 vidual men or the policies of communities could be influenced 
 by anything- so remote and tenuous as ideals, if I considered 
 that the so-called practical men had clear views of all the 
 scope of things that encompass them, or are in the habit of 
 ascertaining- the sources of their motives. 
 
 Yet the discussion of ideals is not out of order, for these 
 should not escape the laws of reason. Even in poetry if a 
 statement be offered, or there be utterance even of some- 
 thing- inspirational of a higher kind but intelligible, it Is 
 evident that it falls within the domain where we can examine 
 it and relate it to our previous knowledge. 
 
 The outcome of such reflections is found to be that while 
 we are vaguely conscious of some ideal, or of some purpose, 
 influencing^ our destinies, we are unable to define such ideal, 
 but we may be able to indicate great bounding- lines, as of 
 
 234 
 
IDEALS AND PURPOSE 235 
 
 the watershed of a country, within which our intellectual 
 progress and moral development are contained. 
 
 We have already seen, and traced in certain instances, 
 the lines of relation between the subtle thoughts and flashes 
 of genius of high minds and the final precipitation into the 
 concrete corollaries of vast material works — the great 
 bridges, the railways, the steamships, the vessels that navi- 
 gate the air, the installation of wireless telegraphy, and the 
 rest; and we have noted that science is the "woof of 
 civilization." 
 
 But what is the purport of all these works? Have these 
 ways of communication, by which journeys that formerly 
 took weeks can now be accomplished in a day, no other 
 meaning than that of bringing together people of minds 
 indifferent to these wonders except in as far as they serve 
 their little appetites and their little round of material 
 enjoyments? 
 
 Science 
 
 Neither in the origin, nor in the results which arise, 
 is such a supposition probable. 
 
 Just as the inventions of the telescope and the micro- 
 scope, which themselves took shape from delicate con- 
 siderations on scientific lines, gave rise to floods of new 
 ideas that had a repercussion on mental development, so all 
 the material works which give us a control over the forces 
 of nature form the structures on which new phases even 
 of intellectual development are formed. Hence it becomes 
 suggested, even on the grounds of material advance, that 
 the desire to know and to control nature affords us already 
 an ideal which will lead us on for countless generations. 
 This seems the more striking when we reflect how recent is 
 the new impulse of modern science. 
 
 By slow successive steps it took mankind many thousands 
 of years to reach from the stone age to that of the polished 
 community which flourished for a brief period in ancient 
 Athens. Then came a retrograde movement, and, finally, 
 during the last three hundred years, an extraordinary 
 activity of mental energy. That activity, however, is only 
 at its beginning ; the great expanse of knowledge is becom- 
 ing subdivided for our needs into various sciences, and then 
 
236 ETHICS 
 
 again into special disciplines of study ; and in each of these 
 a great array of problems springs up, baffling, tempting, 
 fascinating. The solution of any one problem brings its 
 reward, often in forms not anticipated, on account of the 
 wide field of application of the processes of nature. 
 
 Here there is room for hope of the ideal, or at least of 
 an ideal. 
 
 When we reflect tliat in the Middle Ages it was possible 
 to rouse the soul of a people to enterprises of conquest in 
 remote territories full of perils, and with but nebulous gains 
 as a recompense, it is not too much to hope that in our day, 
 or that which will immediately succeed it, we may set on 
 foot great intellectual exf)editions, exploring in a thousand 
 directions the secrets of nature and reaping at every turn 
 splendid rewards. The whole of our civilization must swing 
 on a new axis of thought. The visible banner of this new 
 movement may be designated as science. This will be found 
 eventually to mean the building of a new^ epoch of civil- 
 ization, and the institutions that will arise will afford 
 scope for the activities of thinking men for centuries 
 ahead. 
 
 There is one immediate aspect of the question, however, 
 that is of particular importance. There never has been a 
 time when, side by side with the study of science in a few 
 quarters, there has been so great an outcrop as at the 
 present time of spurious thinking, irrational notions, 
 absurdities erected into religions, new religions formed on 
 false bases and worn arguments; and these inferior notions 
 are more widely spread and more powerful in popular regard 
 than true science. 
 
 There is a revolt in most minds against the drudgery 
 imposed by the discipline of science, and there is a desire to 
 discover something new by short cuts and without pains and 
 patience. This is the effect of an education in which the 
 stimulating elements have been in excess of the solid intel- 
 lectual nutriment. We find currently a form of argument, 
 recalling that of the Middle Ages, which consists in proceed- 
 ing from a starting point to a conclusion by means of a 
 shimmering texture of thoughts that baffle definition. Hence 
 have arisen a number of pseudo-sciences that owe no alle- 
 giance to reason, and of which New Thought, Intuition, 
 
IDEALS AND PURPOSE 237 
 
 Vibration, Christian Science, Spiritualism, Telepathy are but 
 examples. 
 
 Now every lack of correspondence between the function- 
 ingf of our thoughts and the reality of external nature is 
 an element of mental aberration, of which the extreme form 
 is lunacy. The intellig-ence of the generation is seriously 
 ravaged in that direction, and as minds that refuse to brace 
 themselves to the effort of long-continued thought are prone 
 to encourage specious theories, and these in turn render the 
 aberrations more numerous and difficult, we find ourselves 
 in a vicious circle of error. 
 
 What is here needed is the discipline of correct thought 
 in the science that holds all the others in its matrix. 
 Psychology, properly understood, illuminates the mental pro- 
 cesses employed in all science^j, and it stands at the portals 
 of research. The thoughts that proceed from such a con- 
 ception, adapted to various degrees of intelligence, should 
 be impressed on young susceptible minds so that our mental 
 development may be won from wasteful effort and may 
 proceed on the lines of sanity. 
 
 This is but one of the numerous aspects of Education 
 that will be made increasingly clear when the ideal of Science 
 is set on high. 
 
 Art 
 
 At this point we may refer to a saying of Goethe that 
 the greatest intellectual need of the future would be fulfilled 
 in the development of art. 
 
 If the full purport of the discussion on toleration ^ be 
 grasped, this development of art will be seen not to conflict 
 with that of science. The conception of art will, however, 
 be modified with the progress of science and with the 
 extended view of the world which science will afford. 
 
 We have missed in life, and we have not succeeded in 
 recovering it as we recovered Greek science, that sense of 
 the beautiful, not as something trivial, or accidental, or apart 
 from other things, but transmuted into the conception of 
 things so as to become a criterion of excellence. 
 
 We do not restore that sense simply by having detached 
 works of art, even of high merit, in a museum. The sense 
 
 * See page 288. 
 
238 ETHICS 
 
 of beauty should be interfused right through the population, 
 and should find expression in everything turned out by human 
 agency, and finally in the spirit of ethics itself. 
 
 Art is not something merely imitative, reproducing some 
 passing phase of nature, such as the body of a human being 
 ini a statue. If that be great, then since it is imitation of 
 the reality that reality should be greater. That seems to 
 me so obvious that I would pass on did I not know that it 
 is a doctrine quite unacceptable to artists and amateurs of 
 art. The persons who admire a fine statue with an excess 
 of appreciation, regard with indifference the model whom it 
 reproduces. That I could understand if the artist improved 
 "ihe model, or merely taking the model as a sort of human 
 note or memento, produced in marble the expression of some 
 fine sentiment. 
 
 That I say is superior, but it is rare, for artists are 
 generally praised for their technique, which is an affair of 
 practice in special mechanical skill, or for the high degree 
 of resemblance to which they have brought imitation. These 
 things are excellent of their kind, but the representation of 
 the ideal, if wrought with equal skill, is higher. But even 
 here I assert the superiority of the mode that can reproduce 
 these in living examples. Let us take it even as a new 
 form of art, of vaster scope, tO' work with plastic human 
 material instead of paint and marble, and to produce master- 
 pieces. 
 
 That would involve a whole course of education, physical 
 as well as mental ; but there should be nothing on that 
 account to discourage us, for already we spend much effort 
 and large sums of money in producing inferior forms as the 
 result of defective education. 
 
 It would be a part of a complete ethical system then to 
 secure a development of art not shown merely by isolated 
 works, but exhibited throughout the population in well- 
 formed bodies, graceful bearing, good manners, especial 
 cleanliness, sound and well-kept teeth, superior condition 
 of the organs of sense, especially the eyes and ears, and high 
 efficiency in those nervous reactions which underlie skill in 
 games. 
 
 There is nothing in this to preclude excellence in the more 
 technical arts, sculpture, painting, music, and the rest. On 
 
IDEALS AND PURPOSE 239 
 
 the contrary, in accordance with what we have occasion to 
 discover in studying- toleration, each faculty, trade and work- 
 manship should be developed with a certain completeness 
 that bringfs out an effect of art. 
 
 The development of all art, and particularly that of 
 literature, which is the most varied, the widest in range, and 
 yet the most intellectual in expression, should correspond 
 to the same principles as those that indicate the progress 
 of the race, and therefore these arts will reflect the ethical 
 spirit. 
 
 This is possibly what Goethe had in mind when he said 
 that the future development of art would be on more 
 "objective" lines, for objectivity implies generality of appli- 
 cation, and that is in accord with ethical principle. 
 
 There is some hope, therefore, that we may have a new 
 epoch of literature of a broader, deeper, more powerful 
 character than what he have known, while losing nothing 
 of freedom, or poignancy, or effect. 
 
 Beauty 
 
 There is one point here in regard to beauty, the discussion 
 of which prepares the way for a reference to Purpose. 
 
 Certainly as beauty is generally represented by artists and 
 poets it seems admirable and delightful, but hardly strong 
 enough to serve as an ethical motive in itself. That which 
 is the inconscient feeling of most men is not without an 
 element of justification. 
 
 When a definite object of beauty is set apart for adora- 
 tion, or where a too obvious pose is offered amid graceful 
 exercises, or where the goal of effort is discovered in the 
 cult of artistic production, even of wonderful virtuosity, 
 there seems to be something not only inadequate but 
 savouring of decadence. This is to be found even in the 
 sense of finality that is imposed on such development, but the 
 success of the vague feeling of inquietude is deeper. 
 
 The beauty that we must place high as an ideal, the 
 beauty that sets its own seal on high accomplishment, is not 
 something found apart as a concrete entity, but rather the 
 final flash, of harmonious perfection that arises out of all 
 successful demonstrations of energy. 
 
 That, I think, is more in accordance with the best Greek 
 
240 ETHICS 
 
 Spirit, and that is the meaning- ascribed to beauty by the poet 
 who, of all moderns, approached nearest to tlie Greeks, but 
 who added a sense of divinity of his own — John Keats. 
 
 Viewed in this manner, beauty should be sought, not as 
 an occasional object of delig'ht or consolation, but as some- 
 thing* everywhere pervasive and appearing in all forms and 
 movements where these give some expression of energy in 
 the highest degree of efficiency. 
 
 Beauty therefore is not a slight, frail, or contemptible 
 thing; it is on the crest of the wave of the highest reaches 
 of our life. Therefore we see that the motives that are 
 strongest are not those whose gross material aspects strike 
 us at first sight, but those of a subtler kind which appear 
 to us in their allurement when we aspire to new conquests 
 in our upward development. And that is why, although I 
 have found it almost absurd to speak of ideals as though 
 supposing that they may become immediately accepted as 
 motives, I have yet thought it worth while to hold up these 
 ideals as ethical standards; for though ignored they yet 
 determine by their own criteria the degree of development, 
 even of those who reject them. They are nature's standards 
 whether we will or not. 
 
 Love, Beauty, Truth are the sign and seal of what, for 
 the sake of a more formal exposition, 1 have chosen to 
 exhibit as Sympathy, Energy, Truth. 
 
 When we say these are nature's standards, we imply 
 an objectivity in our ethical principles which lifts them 
 beyond the scope of our well-meaning or ill-meaning, or of 
 our present ethical appreciations. That strain has run 
 through the whole exposition. It is implied in the generality 
 of the applications, and it is set in evidence by the illus- 
 trations that could be multiplied beyond measure of the 
 frail and variable character of subjective views of ethics. 
 
 Purpose 
 
 With this conception, therefore, arises that of a kind of 
 intention or Purpose running through life. That, too, I 
 accept, and I find the strongest arguments in the writings of 
 those philosophers, principally biologists, who trace out the 
 course of evolution, as though by the continual intervention 
 of some chances or hazards that allow the survival of certain 
 
IDEALS AND PURPOSE 241 
 
 " ' ' " ' " ■ I ■ I !■ " ■ I ■ ■ ■ ■ r ' ■iii>i ■!<! j ii ^ I ■ 
 
 types. We have already asked, what is the meaning of 
 chance, and how these chances have arisen? But even the 
 multiplication of chances to infinity does not serve to explain 
 the events, for there may be different fields of development, 
 each of which must co-operate with extraordinary co-ordina- 
 tion to produce certain results, so that the chances must 
 reach a plural power of infinity, and even then at each of 
 the infinite number of small moments in time these chances 
 must be maintained. 
 
 Of instance® of such co-ordinations I have gfiven some 
 curious examples drawn from biological research,^ and I 
 could multiply these, but it may suffice to take an ordinary 
 case. When we ask how do we obtain a sense of direction 
 in sigfht, we may refer to a diagram where we see a ray 
 of light entering the eye at the centre of the cornea and 
 impinging on the retina. That line has direction, but in 
 reality we have no sense of it as it is exhibited in the 
 diagram. The organ of vision is not at the cornea, and 
 we do not appreciate the ray as a line. The impression on 
 the retina makes us aware of a certain disturbance. We 
 have a sensation of light. But as the eye is moved a different 
 part of the retina is affected. But how do we know the 
 disposition in which the eye, or eventually the retina, is 
 held? The eye is moved by a series of delicate operations 
 and adjustments served by a number of little muscles attached 
 to the eye-ball. Each delicate movement corresponds to a 
 system of innervation of this set of muscles, and each process 
 of innervation, when it reaches a certain degree of intensity, 
 is made known in consciousness even though by some 
 mechanism not well defined by our physiologist®. 
 
 It is by the co-ordination of these sets of impressions 
 that we form a judgfment of direction ; but parts of the 
 mechanism are derived from elements of development dif- 
 ferent from the others, the difference having taken place at 
 an, early stage of our evolution. How then have these adjust- 
 ments been made? By chance? Why, if that be the case, 
 is chance so constant and so obedient to our needs? 
 
 If we read the work of a biologist and philosopher such 
 as **Le Gen^se de I'Energie Psychique," of J. Danysz, we 
 find in tracing out the development of man a series of steps. 
 * See page 71. 
 Q 
 
242 ETHICS 
 
 When these are looked at by a mind of high order seeking 
 for explanations, we find how difficult at each step it is to 
 define, or even to imagine the exact process, and we have 
 the impression of an immense number of steps with intervals 
 each of almost unscalable height. 
 
 At each step though invoking some law, say that of 
 Natural Selection, the biologist has the air of leading and 
 pushing his mechanism in a manner Which gives a strong 
 suggestion of art rather than of a selection of hazards, and 
 which could only be successful because he knows whither 
 he is going. x\t length he arrives at man. 
 
 But if he had to trace out a course ostensibly directed by 
 design, such as that of a boy fashioning a model yacht, he 
 could suppose at each turn a multitude of chances and the 
 happy selection of the right one, and in that case, as com- 
 pared with his history of the evolution of man, he would 
 be required to make far fewer gratuitous assumptions and 
 claims of unknown hazard to operate in his favour. Purpose 
 is stamped with immensely greater certainty in the develop- 
 ment of man than on any series of our own intentional 
 designs and acts. 
 
 Nothing of this rejects the operation of Natural Selec- 
 tion, nor of Lamarckian adaptation. But since these means 
 of operating have been discovered only recently, and since 
 we have no inkling of any principle of division that can 
 assure us that we have exhausted, or even examined the field 
 of modes of action, how can we simply close on these and say 
 they represent the only ways of development? They are but 
 instruments of Purpose, and as our knowledge increases we 
 will see the mechanism develop more clearly, though possibly 
 without ever discovering the inner secret of the Purpose. 
 
 Nevertheless that is not necessary even to a scientific ex- 
 position. We may be correct without being precise. It is 
 in this way we must regard our Principles of Ethics. We 
 have won them from the consideration of the constitution 
 of the world itself, and by their aid as by a lamp we have 
 illuminated many domains of human conduct, and we say : 
 Within these great guiding lines, and by these standards, 
 the ethical development of man is guided, while beyond us 
 and above us, dimly felt at times and holding the certitude 
 of a higher' destiny, looms the sense of purpose. 
 
Part IV 
 
 COROLLARIES AND APPLICATIONS 
 
 Illustrations of the corollaries and applications of the 
 system. Forms of government, questions of war, various 
 ethical virtues, and the manner of regarding disease, and 
 wastage, and pain, broadly discussed. 
 
 A brief summary indicates the main conclusions of the book. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 Questions of Government 
 
 It would not be impossible to devise a form of government 
 that would best secure the development of the higher 
 activities which we found to be in the line of the progress of 
 the race. Most men are, however, suspicious of any con- 
 struction of the kind. The reason maybe that to pin one's 
 faith to a theory implies a comprehension of that theory and 
 therefore serious study and reflection. ... I will proceed in 
 the contrary direction, beginning at the base of the edifice, 
 and we shall see that eventually the same results will be 
 arrived at if all through we have regard to the true principles. 
 
 In the first place it may be noted that though human 
 societies and governments have in the past suffered a series 
 of violent changes, or revolution®, yet there is nothing in 
 the nature of human progress that renders revolution neces- 
 sary or salutary in itself. 
 
 Revolution is generally followed by a period of chaos 
 and disorder before stability can he given to institutions 
 which, in our present state of society, we find to be indis- 
 pensable for education, legislation, and administration. Dis- 
 order of any kind means loss of energy, and, further, it 
 produces evils not only immediate, in the shape of all manner 
 of injustice, but also by way of giving rise to revenge, 
 rancours, suspicions and the storing up from generation to 
 generation of hatreds and prejudice. 
 
 All that being said, it does not follow that revolution is 
 never justified. A form of government is condemned which 
 does not contain in itself the power of renewal and adapta- 
 tion to new forces, new discoveries, new not only of the 
 objective world, but of the mind of man. 
 
 Those who are fond of analogies from natural history 
 will find much to interest them in comparing the processes 
 of decay and death in a nation with that of a plant, where 
 
 245 
 
246 ETHICS 
 
 the increasing^ solidification of the stem which affords 
 structure and support contains the causes of decay. 
 
 When, therefore, a mode of government, conceived at 
 one phase of national development and realized in terms 
 that gave it power and durability, has become rigid and 
 inapplicable to contemporary conditions, the decay of the 
 community begins. The nation may in such a case be faced 
 with the alternative of sinking to an inferior phase of evolu- 
 tion or of throwing off, even with violence, the institutions 
 that oppress it. 
 
 In such a case there should be no hesitation. Obscure 
 though our notions be of the ultimate intent and purpose of 
 all our endeavours, the sentiment that favours progress is as 
 inherent and as natural as that which exults in physical 
 strength or that demands food to satisfy hunger. 
 
 Countless generations have passed away from the earth, 
 often with little or no record, and what we have as a result- 
 ant gain, forming the glory of the human race, are those 
 means of civilization embodied in science, in literature, 
 institutions, customs and the like that have ensured progress. 
 A high standard for human conduct is therefore given by 
 progress itself, and wherever it is found that any human 
 institution stands in the way, then, at whatever cost, even 
 of revolution, it must be eliminated. 
 
 Such principles made inevitable and salutary the over- 
 throw of the Roman Empire, the successful revolt against 
 the attempt of Charles I to establish divine right, and at 
 lene^th the French Revolution, which forms a beacon light 
 of immeasurably greater value than those others on account 
 of the immense uprising of a host of new and enlightened 
 and generous ideas. 
 
 The downfall of Tsarism in Russia and that of Kaiserdom 
 in Germany were both not only unavoidable in the circum- 
 stances that had arisen, but well indicated on ethical grounds, 
 for these systems were both reactionary and rigid. » 
 
 The Feudal System 
 
 All through Europe the feudal system is on its trial, and 
 those nations are destined to succumb which do not either 
 
 * This is said without either criticism or approval of the systems 
 that have followed, for that would lead too far afield. 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 247 
 
 throw it off hy revolution or, more wisely, deliberately 
 prepare the way for a new development by evolution. 
 
 The feudal system, has exercised a fascination over the 
 minds of poets and artists, and it has given many words to 
 our language that breathe of a high spirit of honour. By 
 study and reflection, ,and by allowing my mind to roll and 
 float in the poetry of the era, I have sought at times to 
 gain something of the spirit of those who lived in its primy 
 days, their minds steeped in the admiration of its 
 institutions. 
 
 In the outward show there was much to stimulate the 
 senses, for a prancing steed richly caparisoned is more 
 picturesque and more sympathetic than a railway train. 
 The polished armour, the emblazoned shield, the nodding 
 plume and the keen lance speak louder of the knightly skill 
 of battle than the drab dress of a modern soldier with his 
 rifle. 
 
 Multiply these incidents in the person of the bold cavalier, 
 brave, haughty, imperious, yet nearer to nature, more simple 
 and naif than captains nowadays ; give full effect to the 
 immense influence of women in social affairs, their suscepti- 
 bility to show and form and immediate effect, the lure of 
 the superficial graces; and we begin to see the pervading 
 stimulating feeling of high life that the feudal system 
 afforded. 
 
 Then with the tournaments, the plain shaking with gallop- 
 ing horses, world-famed knights coming from what seemed 
 far-distant provinces ; the scene in which brightness and 
 gaiety mingled with the splendour and pomp that bedecked 
 the stern business of war; the tier on tier of ladies in silks, 
 in lace, and gold brocade, beautiful as festoons of living 
 flowers, that graced the lists as the knights, all senses alive 
 and lances poised, dashed to the fierce encounter; realize all 
 this with the affections, the passions, the floods of emotion 
 that swept over the crowd ; the contest brought to the con- 
 crete thing of the trial before all eyes of famous champions, 
 the fanfares of triumphs, the ceremonies gracious and 
 imposing of the reward of the victor ! 
 
 Imagine, further, that in an age with little literature, 
 without newspapers, of widespread ignorance and super- 
 stition, but with minds receptive and souls ablaze to the 
 
248 ETHICS 
 
 Stories of high renown, how the talk would run, and the 
 verses fly, and the real poetry of such scenes sink into the 
 senses and flash in the memory of all. 
 
 Then again reflect how all this was woven, organically 
 knit, into the system of government and the power of the 
 King, whose authority was kept at a high level both by the 
 mystery, the prestige of his power and the reality of the cruel 
 persecutions of those who thought lightly of his right ; and, 
 further, that with all this united, the influence of the Church, 
 supreme, uncontested, forming the very texture of men's 
 thoughts and playing with invisible fingers on the structure 
 of their brains. Then some faint dawning arrives of the 
 meaning of the strength of the feudal system. That it was 
 wicked to question its goodness or its eternal duration might 
 seem obvious, but a deeper curse would rest on those who 
 resisted its allurement, for certainly they must have appeared 
 even more lunatic than vile. 
 
 Let us now examine this system from the standpoint we 
 have already gained in our civilization, and we will see how 
 much of the admiration it excited rested on shallow and 
 artificial grounds. 
 
 In the first place it was founded on force, and the main 
 feature of that force was physical prowess. 
 
 Richard, the hero of England, the favourite king, though 
 he spent but a few weeks of his life in the island and dis- 
 dained the language of the Saxon — Richard could swing a 
 battle-axe larger than that of any other knight. Hence he 
 became terrible in war; he was surnamed Coeur-de-Lion. 
 Bertrand du Guesclin, of France, arose from meaner origins. 
 He was the professional of knighthood, who for his match- 
 less skill became ennobled and was received at length into the 
 family of kings, sharing with them their burial place. 
 
 Yes, but the qualities these men exhibited are not 
 unexampled nowadays. A certain champion of to-day, not 
 less celebrated, known to a far greater circle in his world- 
 wide fame than Plantagenet or Du Guesclin — Jack Dempsey 
 by name — has performances to his credit that impress me 
 far more than those of Richard or Bertrand. 
 
 True, he is only a boxing man, but we are now stripping 
 the show of its adventitious aids and looking to the essentials. 
 Jack Dempsey is finer in physique than any knight of whom 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 249 
 
 I can find authentic record, and the stories of his prowess 
 are more alive vi'ith the sense of skill and speed and adapt- 
 ability and cool, unfaltering courage than that of any recital 
 of the slovi^ though spectacular jousting. But in education? 
 In mental endowment? There again 1 give the palm to the 
 modern fighter. He is intelligent; he can read and write; 
 he has never disgraced his strength by acts of fiendish 
 cruelty nor given the exhibitions of vanity or besotted rage 
 that are so common in the mediaeval tales. Certainly, I do 
 not draw the inference that Jack Dempsey should rule over 
 the English-speaking world ; I am only using his figure to 
 give us a scale to measure the structures of the past. 
 
 The Peter-the-Hermits of to-day are found in their finest 
 forms in those missionaries of salvation like the late General 
 Booth), who taught peace and forbearance and mutual help, 
 and in their most characteristic examples in those semi- 
 insane priests who preach Holy Wars in some Moroccan or 
 Turkish town. 
 
 A German scientist has said with as much accuracy as 
 we have a right to demand in an epigram : The heroes and 
 saints of old are in the prize rings and the lunatic asylums 
 of to-day. 
 
 Then, further, apart from the personalities who figured as 
 of high importance in the pageant — not the obscure Roger 
 Bacon nor the vilified Galileo — when we come to the principle 
 on which their greatness rested, we find that the chief 
 criterion was that of material goods. The prowess had its 
 merit in acquiring these, and every form of violence, greed 
 and cunning, was excellent if it could show such possessions 
 as the fruit of the work. 
 
 Amongst a people where few nobles could read or write, 
 and where even those who were instructed could not perform 
 simple feats of casting up accounts, where science was thought 
 despicable when not dangerous and wicked, and where music 
 was played with the fist, high thought, noble aspirations of 
 progress, enlightened views of life, or of men, or of women, 
 or of the animate or inanimate world, were out of place. 
 The "science " of the time was that of the intricate study 
 of artificial signs of pomp and power ; the literature was that 
 of the songs that spoke of love or of war, that pleased the 
 senses and flattered the pride of the great. 
 
250 ETHICS 
 
 Here, ag-ain, if from a detached point of view a glance be 
 taken at the route of human progress, it will be seen with 
 what pain and difficulty the thoughts, and the careers, and 
 the discoveries, and the toil to win a better state, have been 
 wrought. 
 
 This example may help us to make the effort to get 
 beyond the prejudices and the superstitions and false views 
 of our own time, for every age is an ending of an imperfect 
 past and the beginning of a struggling future. 
 
 Democraoy and Aristooraoy 
 
 Having, therefore, cleared the ground to some extent, we 
 may now consider ihow best to build up a form of government 
 suitable to our own time. 
 
 We must not allow ourselves to be carried away by mere 
 shibboleths, whether of democracy or aristocracy. These 
 terms, or others that will perhaps replace them, may be sus- 
 ceptible of definitions that will reconcile them. The modern 
 manner of using democracy as a flag has the air of be- 
 ing a revolt against the undue pretensions of aristocracy, 
 but that is not the best ground on which to advance its 
 claims. 
 
 All have an interest in the government of a nation upon 
 whom fall the effects of its laws, and this involves the whole 
 p>opulation of the state. To this interest some adequate 
 expression should be given, and the question arises as to 
 the manner of representation. 
 
 It is obvious that young children, though they have rights 
 which should be respected, cannot themselves adequately 
 protect their rights, because they have not the power and 
 because they have not intelligence sufficient to guide them in 
 the steps necessary to safeguard their own interests. 
 
 In this case some form of representation is necessary, 
 and the question is now presented as to more general forms 
 of representation. The persons who are best fitted to repre- 
 sent children are those who know their wants and who are 
 placed in such a relation to them that they would be most 
 likely to use the power conferred by representation for the 
 benefit of the children ; the parents would here be generally 
 indicated. 
 
 With regard to the whole population something analogous 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 251 
 
 happens. They all feel the incidence of laws, whether by 
 reason of taxation or of acts which demand their services. 
 
 It is obvious that the whole population cannot deliberate 
 tog-ether, but this difficulty can be met by delegation of 
 authority. The obstacles to deliberating in large numbers 
 are not the only difficulties. Many of the regulations or 
 laws that are framed in a country are of general application, 
 and the ordinary plain man is not fitted to deal with matters 
 involving many issues and exhibited in complex form. 
 
 This truth is obvious, one might suppose, but politics — 
 and we are now entering upon that domain — excites passions 
 and jealousies, and shibboleths are apt to be evoked which 
 make little of obvious facts. I remember the case of an 
 Australian Prime Minister who had begun as a demagogue 
 and who developed into an upholder of the old Conservative 
 institutions. He inquired, in this later phase : What can a 
 man following the plough know of complicated matters of 
 finance? 
 
 This question gave great offence, yet if in his democratic 
 days he had expressed the same difficulty in another manner 
 and with another intention he might have been approved. 
 For example, he could have suggested that, whereas the man 
 following the plough is certain to feel the incidence of taxa- 
 tion, and that this taxation often falls upon him with undue 
 severity, therefore it is highly important for him to have a 
 friend at court, or in the council chamber where laws are 
 made, who will sympathize with his needs and who will 
 exercise a watchful outlook on all the intricacies of the 
 legislation that affect him. 
 
 Thus expressed, the proposition might be acceptable. 
 Whom, then, shall the man following the plough, or any 
 man of a village community, select to represent him? Per- 
 haps there is no one in the village gifted enough in know- 
 ledge and intelligence to perform that function. That is not 
 unlikely, for in my experience of Parliaments I have very 
 rarely met with anyone both sufficiently experienced, 
 sufficiently educated and sufficiently endowed with acumen 
 and balance of judgment, to trace out all the effects in 
 succession of an important act of legislation. 
 
 Questions of tariffs, for example, involve complicated 
 relations with foreign powers, and these relations again 
 
252 ETHICS 
 
 depend not only on the points of commercial contact, but 
 on all manner of conting-ent questions of good will, power 
 to support allies or to inflict harm in any crisis, and so forth 
 throughout the whole range of the diplomatic field. All the 
 affected nations are, of course, within this purview, and 
 there is the further question of balancing their relative 
 importance. Then there are the important internal questions, 
 and these involve considerations far beyond those of the 
 trade affected by tariffs, for though a favourable tariff may 
 act by way of stimulation to a struggling industry, it will 
 not supply the place of organization. The organization of 
 an industry is a matter, again, which implicates many 
 elements of the nation's life in a subtle way, embracing 
 moral questions concerned in credit and confidence, and 
 also wide-reaching matters of education, including highly 
 specialized scientific education. 
 
 Here we have but touched the fringe of the subject, but 
 I will not insist, because the discussion of the whole matter 
 would develop into extraordinary complexity. Briefly let it 
 be said that just as a man would not send a valuable watch 
 for repair to an auctioneer simply because he was eloquent, 
 so when dealing with a living mechanism, such as a State, 
 of far greater complexity and sensitiveness, one should avoid 
 here the mere orator or manipulator of political tricks, and 
 seek the advice of those who have studied such problems 
 scientifically. 
 
 It is extraordinarily rare that the worse course is not 
 adopted, and with most existing forms of legislation that 
 inferior result is inevitable. 
 
 A like strain of argument will convince us, even if 
 practical examples did not make it evident, that in the 
 multitude of counsellors there is not always, nor even gener- 
 ally, wisdom. The popular sentiments in regard to internal 
 affairs of the great mass of the people of a country are 
 generally right, because, apart from personal advantage, a 
 sense of justice, born of truth, prevails. But when a question 
 of opinion as to ways and means arises, the decision of the 
 majority has no especial value. 
 
 In matters involving great knowledge of diverse matters 
 and high intellectual processes the opinion of a majority has, 
 in its own character, no value at all. It is not by accident, 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 253 
 
 nor even by intuition, but by a strain of serious and patient 
 thoug-ht that one arrives at the solution of any problem, 
 and the greater the number of factors concerned the more 
 probable is it that any conclusion otherwise obtained is likely 
 to be wrong. That, moreover, has been the history of the 
 world. There have been many times when, even in matters 
 that redounded in great material interests, the opinion of one 
 man was worth that of millions who differed from him. 
 
 Galileo's opinion on a fundamental point of mechanics 
 was worth that of the w^hole educated world when he decided 
 that if he dropped two pellets of lead of different weight 
 from the tower of Pisa together they would reach the ground 
 together. Darwin's opinion was derided almost unanimously 
 by the people of his day, but it has since prevailed. Clerk 
 Maxwell's opinion on the similar nature of electrical and 
 light waves was of more value than that of the r^st of 
 the population. But these are matters of science, it may 
 be said. 
 
 Yes ; and the reason why the question of the effect of laws 
 is not so regarded is that the factors are more complex than 
 we meet with in many sciences, but our ignorance of the 
 matter, or our indifference to the intellectual side of these 
 questions, does not prevent the disturbance of the system 
 of the state operating duly. 
 
 This discussion has really cleared the ground a little. 
 Obviously it would be rare to find in a limited community a 
 man capable of dealing with the complex affairs of state 
 regulation. In each community, however, it would be 
 possible to point out the man best fitted to be a representa- 
 tive. Here the opinion of the majority might be relied on, 
 for even if occasional mistakes are made, they could not be 
 grave, and they would become balanced. By such means, 
 then, we secure an elected body, but this is also too large 
 and unwieldy for practical purposes. 
 
 Each of the selected representative men would now be 
 able to take a wider survey of things than the average 
 individual of his electors. A wider area, involving several 
 of the smaller communities, could now be adopted as the 
 constituency of a new election, in which the electors would 
 be those first chosen. 
 
 This being the principle, its extension is easily seen, and 
 
254 ETHICS 
 
 it can be continued until a small and manageable body be 
 at length obtained to take charge of legislation. At each 
 stage of the process anyone might be eligible for election, 
 even of those missed in the earlier elections. 
 
 I will not work out all the details of such a mode of 
 selecting a government, but a few remarks may be desirable 
 to prevent misunderstandings. This method was in the mind 
 of the framers of the constitution of the United States of 
 America, but they did not carry it out elaborately. They 
 simply interposed an electoral college between the original 
 voters and the chosen assembly of legislators, but they had 
 not foreseen the extraordinary development of political 
 engineering in America, the effect of which has been to 
 render the electoral college almost like a system of 
 mechanical recorders. 
 
 This defect I w^ould remedy by having the elections at 
 various times, so that the general interests could be regarded 
 and not the cries of a rushed electoral campaign. Further, 
 I would give definite responsible functions of a certain dura- 
 bility to each of the successive elected bodies, beginning 
 with something of the nature of parish councils, and increas- 
 ing in scof>e and outlook up to the administration of depart- 
 ments and the legislation for federal states. 
 
 In this way also, while the value of the legislature would 
 be enhanced, the importance of mere politics, as a trade or 
 a distracting influence upon the activities of the country, 
 would be diminished. The reduction of the influence of the 
 legislative assembly would give greater power to the 
 executive. Finally, the chief authority would be vested in 
 one man chosen, preferably, by the last of the selective 
 electorates. 
 
 The legislative assembly itself would give way on all 
 matters involving decisions based on special knowledge to 
 councils set up in j>art by itself and duly armed with 
 authority. 
 
 The president, chosen for a term of years, say four or 
 five, but with eligibility for fresh election, would be invested 
 with great power both of initiation and control, though kept 
 within the limits of a constitution subject itself to revision 
 and progressive amelioration. The model finally reached is 
 somewhat reminiscent of the First Consulate of Napoleon 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 255 
 
 Bonaparte, thoug^h resting on the consent, duly ascertained 
 in a better way than then adopted, of the people. 
 
 That such a system would be democratic is sufficiently 
 assured by the wide basis of the first electorate, and it is 
 seen in this example that there is nothing inconsistent 
 between democracy and aristocracy when the aristocracy 
 arises by free selection for the purpose of the service of the 
 whole community. 
 
 Hitherto aristocracy has been based on hereditary privi- 
 lege, but that system is false by reason both of the hereditary 
 character and the privileges. The laws of heredity are not 
 yet w^ell ascertained, but from what we know by way of 
 science and from what we are able to observe and to find in 
 the records of history, it is evident that they give no warrant 
 for supposing that the virtues which have made a man 
 acceptable for a position of power will be transmitted to his 
 descendants.^ 
 
 The other condition that now exists, that of privilege, is 
 still less defensible, for in our glance at the main character 
 of the principle of feudalism it is evident that these privi- 
 leges were gained, not by qualities that told for wise leader- 
 ship, but rather by modes of violence, which have in the 
 course of progress been relegated to an inferior category. 
 
 The crisis of development which is felt in most countries 
 of Europe arises, indeed, less from the principle of 
 aristocracy in itself, if this be properly understood, than in 
 the wrong determination of aristocracy by haphazard and 
 now obsolescent methods. 
 
 The vesting of the highest power in one man and con- 
 siderable power in a small body of men is fraught with 
 
 * Even in the cases where races are kept exceptionally pure, as 
 in the breed of racehorses, there is no ground for assuming the 
 hereditary transmission of excellence. If there were, the Derby 
 winner would be automatically succeeded by his first male offspring. 
 So far from this being the case, the breed is kept eflBicient only by 
 continual and severe tests, and the inferior stock becomes, not care- 
 fully preserved as in the human institution, but eliminated. 
 
 The analogy must not be drawn too closely, for racehorses arc 
 prized only for one kind of test, and they are subject to control and 
 careful training while being fitted for this special form of election. 
 With human beings the faculties required are far more complex and 
 varied, and less susceptible to direct training. The only available 
 test, even in a scientific manner, of merit, is that of actual trial. 
 
256 ETHICS 
 
 certain dangers against which safeguards may be introduced, 
 but when proper modes of choice are adopted and limited 
 terms of office instituted, the evils are kept within bounds. 
 
 The choice is between such forms and that of large 
 assemblies, as, for example, the Houses of Parliament. 
 Here a point of experience comes in, and from all 
 that I have observed of such bodies I regard them, as 
 very inefficient. 
 
 In all matters where definite action on the part of the 
 state is involved a decision must be taken. Stated in these 
 terms that proposition seems almost absurdly simple, but 
 when the decision is taken by one person the act is clear 
 and the responsibility is definite, yet when a decision is 
 taken by a large assembly, though the responsibility is less 
 well defined, the consequences of the act are not on that 
 account conjured away. 
 
 For example, I have seen a great assembly come into a 
 state of war, without preparation, simply by drifting, 
 because it fell to no one to assume the responsibility of 
 facing the impending crisis ; and, when a crisis had arisen, 
 I have seen the same assembly fail by reason of defects both 
 of intelligence and character. 
 
 The only chance for an assembly in such a crisis is that 
 one man, by his ability or character, should dominate it, 
 as Themistocles was able to override the inferior proposals 
 of the council set up for the defence of Greece. Such a 
 dominance implies a form of selection, but it is better that 
 the choice should be obtained by methods that ensure a 
 full consideration of all the factors. 
 
 As a matter of experience it will be seen in the records 
 of history that most of the great works which have advanced 
 and adorned humanity have resulted, not from the wisdom 
 of assemblies, but from the clear-sighted vision and the 
 energy of one man or a small group of men. 
 
 Suppose, now, that we had begun at the other end, and 
 in the attempt to devise a suitable form of government had 
 invoked our principles of Truth, Energy, Sympathy, we 
 should have arrived at similar conclusions. It must be borne 
 in mind that the continual reference to first principles may 
 become too unwieldy, but that, in complete accord with 
 scientific method, we may found institutions that are 
 
QUESTIONS OF GOVERNMENT 257 
 
 governed by these principles and that then afford us con- 
 venient guides. Thus the navigator guides himself over the 
 trackless waters by the stars, but when he comes near the 
 land he steers by beacon lights and other signs that he has 
 set up. 
 
 If, then, we wish to institute forms of government that 
 will foster the progress of the race, we look to find a 
 governor endowed with the principles of Truth, Energy, 
 Sympathy. These being translated in this case into other 
 terms that are familiar in public affairs imply high character, 
 great ability, public spirit, and knowledge of the conditions 
 of the people. If, then, we set about finding these in the 
 state, and with the general consent of the governed, we shall 
 be led to considerations that reproduce in the inverse order 
 those from which we previously started. 
 
 When a good government shall be finally obtained, its 
 functions should less suggest the noisy and rather futile 
 assemblies of the present time than the deliberate and effec- 
 tive grappling with practical problems such as are involved 
 in the removal of obstacles to progress. These are not all 
 nor even mainly political, though the lessening of chances of 
 war belongs to some extent to that category. 
 
 Take, for example, the question of tuberculosis. The 
 ravages of that disease when expressed in money value 
 alone, as estimated by the limitations of life value in the 
 nation, must throughout Europe run into hundreds of 
 millions of pounds. The misery caused by its ravages is 
 not less than that of a great war. 
 
 That disease can be extirpated. That fact alone stands 
 in the way of accusation of our defective governments, for 
 hitherto only the feeblest and most inefBcient attempts have 
 been made to deal with it. 
 
 It would lead too far to discuss this in detail, and I have 
 used it only as an instance. I say from experience that 
 there are a great variety of examples hardly less striking 
 where a great and enlightened government, guided by 
 science, could introduce ameliorative measures which would 
 give an immense impulse to progress, even in the sphere of 
 material interest. 
 
 The physique of the people is wonderfully adaptable to 
 improvement by improved conditions, and on this line alone 
 R 
 
258 ETHICS 
 
 a far greater scope of life and a larger volume of happiness 
 than now prevails could be secured. 
 
 With the energies of the nation feeling the stirring of 
 a new onward march, art and literature would develop in 
 new and higher forms in correspondence. 
 
 The care of the "common people" should be a sacred 
 charge to the governors, but this is consistent with efficiency. 
 
 International relations are susceptible of enormous im^ 
 provement. Then when we envisage the whole earth, we find 
 what vast resources we have hitherto left uncultivated while 
 suffering from overcrowding, according to present con- 
 ditions, in certain areas. That overcrowding can itself be 
 ameliorated by a better study of scientific means of utilizing 
 the resources at hand. 
 
 Finally, while in this way we pay particular attention to 
 progress as measured by material standards, we find a higher 
 ideal, though not incompatible with this, in the direction of 
 our powers to the conception of a great ethical purpose. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 War 
 
 The question of war is becomings even more important as 
 civilization develops. No discourse of ethics should ignore 
 its existence, for evidently our whole standards would be 
 modified if war could be entirely eliminated, as compared 
 with what would prevail if war were for ever a necessity of 
 human society. 
 
 Looked at as an objective problem, we see in the world 
 all sorts of forces which tend to make for war, and we see 
 forces resisting- the operation of the others. Can this 
 resistance be so org^anized as to render ineffective the war- 
 producing forces, or will these become gradually modified, or 
 changfed, or eliminated? 
 
 Suppose, to take an illustration, that we had a number 
 of material particles or systems endowed with various move- 
 ments and all enclosed within a limited space. The agita- 
 tion of these bodies would continue for an indefinite time, 
 and it might happen that their movements would never 
 resolve into that particular form which we had taken as 
 representing peace. In the social world, is it not possible 
 at least that the incessant shock and reaction of emotions 
 and interests in myriad diversity mig^ht be of such character 
 that the movement would never resolve to peace? If that 
 really were so, then, however attractive the ideal of universal 
 peace might be, it would be absurd to build our ethics on 
 that basis. 
 
 Let us examine the question dispassionately. The facile 
 and commendable attitude is to disapprove of war and to 
 praise the blessing's of peace. On the other hand, there are 
 men, as, for instance, von Moltke, who consider war as an 
 ordinance of God. Even Milton lays down, as one of the 
 qualifications of a gfood citizen, that he should be fit for the 
 arts of war, and that requirement implies that war is looked 
 on as a permanency. Napoleon at St. Helena could hardly 
 
 259 
 
26o ETHICS 
 
 comprehend the state of mind of a people, I think it was the 
 Manchurians, who did not make war, and who therefore 
 possessed no warHke weapons. That was perhaps the pro- 
 fessional point of view, but I have also known a man of 
 peace who did a great deal of distinguished work in science 
 and who, as a result of his philosophic reflections, concluded 
 also that war was both necessary and salutary. We made 
 great play during the world war of the writings of Bernhardi 
 and others of that school, but they could be easily paralleled 
 for their barbarity by writings of authors in this country or 
 in any other of the Allies. 
 
 There is this much to be said also, that those nations 
 which have despised war have always been dependent 
 nations. That was true of the people of whom Napoleon 
 spoke. It is true also of the Burmese, who have a fine code 
 of morals, greatly superior in many respects to anything that 
 prevails in more civilized nations, and who have given 
 practical eff'ect to their pacific theories. They labour under 
 one great disadvantage which might well outweigh the 
 horrors of war, that is, that they are subject to another 
 people. 
 
 It is evident, therefore, that the problem is not quite so 
 simple as it looks, or as it is declared to be by those 
 moralists who settle everything by an appeal to a sort of 
 quietism, as if that state represented the highest beatitude of 
 man, and who deal with all difficulties by refusing to look 
 at them. 
 
 On the other hand, Lord Roberts declared that war 
 brought out what was best in a man. I am tempted to 
 say from many examples that I have seen that if it brought 
 out this best, it succeeded also in keeping it out. In this 
 respect we come to the same fallacy that we meet with in 
 the so-called character-forming games. These games may 
 help to form character, but the characters they help to form 
 are simply those best adapted to play those games. Chess, 
 for instance, is supposed to be mimic war, and it certainly 
 promotes foresight and planning, but the man who makes 
 himself a proficient chess-player does not always make use 
 of these qualities in other exercise than that of chess. ^ 
 
 1 The celebrated Paul Morphy, when he astonished the world by 
 his brilliant tourney in Europe, where he beat all the chess champions, 
 
WAR 261 
 
 With regard to cricket, I have read that it trains to rapid 
 thought and bold decision. That is perhaps true with respect 
 to playing the balls one meets with in cricket, but the general 
 tendency of the game, especially in those who have devoted 
 too much time to it, is to produce rather a slack attitude in 
 regard to business, and occasionally a feckless character. 
 Cricket simply trains for cricket. 
 
 So it is with war, and here the training may be of varied 
 character. Let me cite two different instances. On one 
 occasion a soldier whom I knew found himself surprised at 
 an outpost. Three men suddenly jumped at him ; one shot 
 him through the leg, another plunged a bayonet into his 
 breast, and the third fired at and missed him. Without 
 being disconcerted for a moment, he shot the first man with 
 his own rifle, pulled out the bayonet and rammed it into 
 the body of the other, and clubbed the third with the butt 
 end of his weapon. His own wounds were severe, but he 
 walked back to camp, and in a month's time he was again 
 eager for service. 
 
 The other instance is that of a man who was specially 
 trusted and favoured by his superior officers, and who was 
 placed in charge of a railway junction. He neglected his 
 duties, and he intercepted to his own profit some of the pro- 
 visio'ns consigned to the Commander-in-Chief. Amongst this 
 booty was a keg of whisky. This he broached, and added 
 the crimes of drunkenness, desertion, and violence towards 
 his superior officer to those of abuse of trust and general 
 neglect of duty. 
 
 Which of these two men are we to ascribe to- the credit 
 of war? The question is rendered still more difficult by this 
 fact, that these two were the same man. 
 
 We must regard all these matters eclectically, and when 
 we find a case of heroism in war not impute it directly to 
 
 was summoned home by his friends to stand as candidate for the 
 Presidency of the United States, They thought it a pity that so 
 high a genius for planning, deHberation, and foresight, should be 
 lost to the service of the country. Morphy, however, had no talent for 
 statesmanship, and even in his own more modest business of solicitor 
 he was not a conspicuous success. The simple fact is that chess had 
 trained him to be a good chess-player, but had rather unfitted him 
 for other pursuits. On the other hand, Napoleon Bonaparte, who 
 was a past master at the art of war, played mediocre chess. 
 
262 ETHICS 
 
 the refining influences of that ennobling pursuit. On the 
 other hand, when we find instances of scoundrelism and 
 brutality, and low forms of morality of an ordinary kind, 
 we must not derive these either immediately from the in- 
 fluence of that contaminating occupation. It is usual to 
 commit both these errors. 
 
 When from time to time I have read of the exploits of 
 a hero who has gained the Victoria Cross, I have had the 
 suggestion come athwart my mind, even in spite of myself, 
 that it would be necessary only to change the names and the 
 locality in order to have a thrilling description of a first-class 
 burglary or the exploits of a foot-pad. 
 
 It may be said that the hero has ever before his eyes 
 the high idea of duty, and that this sustains him, and that 
 therein consists the difference between himself and the high- 
 wayman. I take leave to doubt in certain of these exploits 
 the abiding influence of a high ethical motive. It seems to 
 me that we are simply face to face with a case where a man 
 of good physical endowment and reckless disposition sees a 
 chance of giving a great display within his power. The 
 comparison is not altogether devoid of justice, because we 
 may resist being unfair even to the highwayman. The fact 
 that he is breaking the law stands to the debit side of his 
 account, but that is no reason why his qualities of courage, 
 coolness and resource should not have full credit. 
 
 From a consideration of cases of this kind, and from all 
 that I have read, especially of the after fate of soldiers, I 
 conclude that war is a good training simply for war, just as 
 chess and cricket are good training for chess and cricket. 
 
 When therefore Lord Roberts says that war brings out 
 the best in a man, the qualities that he terms best are those 
 specially serviceable in war ; but if war were to cease alto- 
 gether, these particular qualities, if they were not useful for 
 peace only, might be allowed to fall into desuetude. At this 
 point we seem to have an instinctive revolt ; we are pro- 
 posing to allow to decay shining qualities which have won 
 our admiration. Upon reflection, however, we see that that 
 is inevitable, as we pass from one stage of evolution to 
 another. Further, in as far as these qualities may be 
 required in peace, then peace will afford an adequate training 
 just in as far as these qualities are advantageous. 
 
WAR 263 
 
 Napoleon, who was one of the most successful com- 
 manders of all time, was careful not to allow his own prestige 
 to rest solely on his talent for war. When he formed a court, 
 he insisted upon a certain etiquette, and he kept his great 
 generals waiting in the ante-chambers while he transacted 
 civil business, in order tO' show to them that they occupied 
 in the whole machine of government a less preponderating 
 part than they might otherwise have imagined. 
 
 Let us now look at the actual history of war itself. It 
 is true that there never has been a period in the history of 
 the world where warfare has not been practised, and it is 
 also true that those who have waged warfare most success- 
 fully have dominated other peoples and imposed upon them 
 their laws, their customs, and their ethical systems, or at 
 any rate some formal obeisance to these. 
 
 Rigidity of the Military Mind 
 
 It is true also that at no time has progress in the art of 
 war itself been due to trained warriors. From the most 
 rudimentary condition of society where one individual 
 throttled another with his bare hands, or brained him with 
 a club, we rise slowly to the state of affairs, as for instance 
 such as described in the Iliad, where shields were used and 
 pieces of armour were employed for protection, and where 
 weapons such as javelins, the product of skilled artisans, 
 replaced the bare hands or the club. Protective armour and 
 the weapons were not fabricated by the warriors. It was 
 Vulcan and not Mars who gfave power and dignity to war. 
 
 The military mind is in general limited, and rigid, and 
 devoted to routine. Thus it happens to be true that, as I 
 first heard expressed by Anatole France in a tone of philo- 
 sophic irony, the highest military leaders, the great world- 
 conquerors, have usually been *'not soldiers at all." He 
 cited Alexander. Alexander was not a soldier who had 
 entered the ranks and won his place successively by attention 
 to work and efficiency in the details of his business. He 
 was "the son of his father." Philip was a far more com- 
 petent soldier in that sense than Alexander, but it was pre- 
 cisely because Alexander had never had his mind drilled, 
 and his talents ankylosed in the routine of a soldier's pro- 
 fession, that he was free to form great conceptions, and 
 
264 ETHICS 
 
 elastic enough in spirit to receive and adapt new ideas. 
 Alexander was a poet of great exploits, who seized on war 
 as his instrument of expression. 
 
 Take the next world's hero — Hannibal. Hannibal's train- 
 ing, such as it was, resembled that of Alexander. He was 
 early made acquainted with war, but his mind was never 
 broken by the details of a subaltern's work. He took chief 
 command, not by having won it through successive grades, 
 but because he was a personality of another kind from that 
 of the ordinary soldier. 
 
 The next example cited by Anatole France was Julius 
 Caesar. Julius Caesar, when he was sent to take command 
 of the army in Gaul, was little of a soldier but rather a 
 politician. He was a dilettante in literature, a man about 
 town, a pleasure-seeker who had debilitated his constitution 
 in fatigues that had nothing of the martial about them. He 
 had, however, the inestimable advantage of a plastic, lively 
 mind, open to new impressions, and adaptable to new con- 
 ditions. Consequently, when he did take command, he sent 
 the impress of his own genius throughout all the ranks of 
 the soldiers whom he led from victory to victory. 
 
 As I listened to the unfolding of this remarkable thesis, 
 I held in reserve the great example that would overthrow 
 the whole edifice of paradox. *' Napoleon Bonaparte ! " I 
 said. 
 
 Anatole France smiled with that indulgent smile of the 
 man whose knowledge is large and whose tolerance is pro- 
 portionately great. "Napoleon Bonaparte," he replied 
 quietly, "was not a soldier. — That remark may require a 
 little explanation. It is true that Napoleon Bonaparte had 
 some training at the military school at Brienne, but as a 
 trained soldier he had no recommendation beyond that of a 
 second-lieutenant of great ignorance and mediocre value. 
 With few intermediate stages he leapt to the chief command 
 of the army of Italy, and bringing to that field a fresh and 
 powerful mind, accustomed to reasoning, he out-distanced the 
 professional soldiers, such as Augereau, or Rampon, or even 
 Mass^na, or rather, he showed himself to be a thinker and 
 a man of action of superior quality." 
 
 Returning now to the question of arms and tactics, we 
 find there again how slow and ineffectual has been the 
 
WAR 265 
 
 military mind in reg^ard to the improvements of the means 
 of warfare. 
 
 In the Iliad we have the impression of fierce but erratic 
 fighters, greatly dependent on rules and little apt to well- 
 thought-out concerted action, or to good team work, or to 
 efficient direction of a general staff. The device of intro- 
 ducing a wooden horse into Troy is one of those strokes of 
 genius more likely to be praised after success than to be 
 recommended previous to trial. It has the puerility of a 
 fairy-tale, and we cannot even ascribe its success to the 
 credit of military training, for the Trojans were equally 
 trained, and yet they allowed themselves to be deceived and 
 ultimately beaten by so crude a theatrical effect. 
 
 The first great improvement in methods of carrying on 
 war was that of Alexander in his formation of the Mace- 
 donian phalanx, but that was only likely to be successful 
 against such enemies as he encountered, who endeavoured 
 to make up for a lack of military capacity by the vast 
 numbers they threw into the field. 
 
 The Roman soldier carved his way through the world 
 with his short sword. In reading the accounts of Roman 
 warfare, one has the impression of a well-organized system 
 followed from generation to generation with a sort of 
 religious faith. The system is solid, efficient within its own 
 line, but limited in many respects. The Latins were success- 
 ful because they met with foes less advanced intellectually 
 than themselves, and who opposed the Roman discipline and 
 solidity and efficiency with gusts of impetuosity. 
 
 The ancients had used horses, but except in a few in- 
 stances the horse was rather a means of transport. It was 
 not until the days of chivalry that the horse was used as a 
 weapon. The use of the horse and the lance was answered 
 by the elaboration of defence to' that extraordinary degree 
 which has left us the image of the knight of old weighted 
 from head to foot with his harness, and riding a horse also 
 ironclad to an egregious extent. This made it necessary 
 that the horse should be above all things a weight-carrier, 
 and therefore proportionately slow and unhandy. The 
 knights lived in an age when war and religion, according 
 to their ideas, had both reached their culminating point, 
 and the records of that age distress us, even at this lapse 
 
266 ETHICS 
 
 of time, not merely for their barbarity and cruelty, but for 
 their ignorance, superstition, and stupidity. 
 
 Out of the interminable intestine struggles of petty states, 
 which led to nothing except confusion and fresh slaughter, 
 we have the splendid, romantic, and picturesque exploits of 
 the Crusades. The net result of these, educationally, appears 
 to have been a shaking of the faith, or at any rate a modifi- 
 cation of the forms of devotion of some of the great 
 crusaders, and the teaching of severe but useful lessons as 
 to the art of war.^ 
 
 The use of gunpowder, which made its first appearance 
 in a field of battle at Cr^cy, changed the face of war. But 
 here again we have an invention not due to the intelligence 
 of a practitioner of war, but resulting from the scientific 
 researches of a learned but poor and despised monk. 
 
 The next notable advance in war was that adopted by 
 Marlborough, who recognized that not only was the horse 
 the weapon of the individual soldier, but that the massed 
 power, represented by the drive of a compact body of cavalry, 
 would sweep away the ordinary resistance of the enemy. 
 
 Frederick the Great added something to the military 
 arsenal. He welded together separate forces into a solid 
 bar. NapKDleon retained the cohesion of such a force, but 
 broke up the bar into a flexible chain. His astonishing military 
 successes were gained on fairly simple lines of strategy and 
 tactics, and it was not until his career was near its termina- 
 tion that any of his antagonists discovered the secret of those 
 tactics, and sought appropriately to counteract them. 
 Napoleon himself, for his part, did little to develop or 
 improve the new forms which in his early years he had 
 introduced into warfare. 
 
 ^ The crusader, with his iron-encased figure, riding his pompously 
 caparisoned but over-weighted farm-horse, his helmet bedecked with 
 nodding plume, was extraordinarily picturesque, but somewhat in- 
 effective. He recalls at some distance those imposing grenadiers of 
 the father of Frederick the Great, to one of whom that irreverent 
 young man tossed a guilder, promising that he could keep it if he 
 could only stoop to pick it up. The Saracens were lightly clad and 
 lightly armed, and mounted on lively little horses. In single combat 
 the knight of chivalry stood little chance with such a type. That 
 was, I think, in the main the story of the Crusades, though the 
 returning warriors told their own tale, and, as is not unusual in 
 history, we have an unconvincing account of the actual happenings. 
 
WAR 267 
 
 It was reserved for an ag-ricultural people, in quite 
 another theatre of life, to show the world a new system of 
 defence, whether by trenches or by the careful selection of 
 the irreg^ularities of the g-round. It is true that trench warfare 
 had been employed before their time, but never in the same 
 manner and certainly never with that sort of fertility of 
 resource which gave the sug-gestions acted upon in the 
 world war, where to powers of offence such as exceeded the 
 dreams of Napoleon were opposed powers of defence still 
 more remarkable. 
 
 Throughout this whole brief review, touching- on the 
 salient points of development of warfare, perhaps the fact 
 that is most conspicuous is the mental inefficiency of the 
 great professors of the art. The military minds remained 
 faithful to their tradition. On the part of the commanders, 
 with a few brilliant exceptions, we had colossal blunders 
 covered up by the sacrifice of holocausts of soldiers. 
 
 If war were then to be a permanent institution in our 
 civilized life, we must necessarily accept it, and mould our 
 ethical conceptions to fit in with that condition ; but even 
 then we could hardly refrain from a regret at one of the 
 incidental consequences of war, that on account of the 
 prestige and glory and popularity which it brings, we would 
 be compelled to submit to the rule of inferior minds in matters 
 of general education, of science, and of ethics. 
 
 Advantage of Co-operation 
 
 Let us once again revise the history from another stand- 
 point. When two neighbouring^ cave-men met, and fell to 
 gouging each other's eyes out, or tried to smash the brain 
 pan one of the other, the fittest may have survived ; that 
 is to say when the word "fittest " is interpreted as we have 
 already seen in discussing the question of evolution. It does 
 not follow for that reason that such a conflict was something- 
 excellent ethically or in any way beneficial to the race. One 
 of these men, the fittest, for example, might have gone hunt- 
 ing SO' as to be able tO' lay in a store of provisions for both, 
 while the other, now lying- with his skull battered in, mig-ht 
 have been employed meanwhile building a habitation which 
 would serve a useful purpose for both. War, even at this 
 rudimentary stage, runs directly counter to that principle of 
 
268 ETHICS 
 
 co-operation, whose sanctions are founded not merely on our 
 own notions of approval or disapproval but on the very 
 foundation of the world itself. 
 
 In our own day contests of the kind, though modified 
 in detail, are continually being- carried on. Here are two 
 small farmers, for instance let us say in Kilkenny, though 
 it may be anywhere in these islands, whose boundaries march 
 with each other. They have all sorts of reasons for helping 
 each other, and with mutual co-o{>eration they could not only 
 make out a comfortable living for their families, but also 
 improve their worldly positions. They quarrel over a little 
 strip of ground a yard wide. They fight it out not with 
 bludgeons or firearms, but by going to law. Neither will 
 accept defeat, and they persist with dogged obstinacy in 
 bringing the case from court to higher court, until one has 
 at length triumphed, but both have been left exhausted and 
 ruined. There again the fittest may have survived, but it 
 is once more evident that nothing is more misleading than 
 the wrongful use of this particular term. 
 
 We have observed in these simple examples a lesson that 
 might be applied to the struggles of nations, and we see how 
 unphilosophical is the use of that principle which has served 
 to build up portentous books to the detriment of the nation 
 which produces them. To be a great philosopher it is not 
 sufficient to misinterpret Darwin. 
 
 Proceeding from the combat of our two individuals, we 
 next reach the feuds between different clans. We have 
 already seen that the reforms of Cleisthenes consisted in 
 main part in breaking down the cause of the hostility between 
 the clans, and joining them in co-operation, but we also find 
 in our retrospect that mere progression of time has no imme- 
 diate relation to the advance of civilization.^ 
 
 ^ This fact was brought home to me vividly when I paid a pious 
 pilgrimage to the burial place of one of my own kinsmen in the 
 Scottish Highlands, Rob Roy MacGregor. After gazing on his 
 tombstone, and observing an epitaph in Gaelic, which reminded me 
 of the depths of the roots plunged in the past, I glanced round the 
 graveyard. There I beheld on another tombstone a fierce accusation 
 against my clan by a representative of the Maclaurens, who accused 
 us, or at least my maternal ancestors, of having crossed the moun- 
 tains surreptitiously and fallen upon them in a murderous attack. 
 
 While recognizing that this lapidary pamphlet of the Maclaurens 
 was a partisan statement to which we had vouchsafed no reply, 
 
WAR 269 
 
 The story of the Greek villages and of the Scottish, clans 
 is represented also in the histories of little Italian towns, 
 which still remain to delight us by their beauty, Pisa or 
 Verona or Ravenna, Florence or Genoa or Venice. These 
 towns that lived in a state of warfare with each other, more 
 or less continual, now enjoy mutual interests ; they are but 
 parts of a united nation which has been formed by welding 
 together smaller nations still more disparate than these. 
 Has Italy lost by this result? Or have the individual towns 
 found this union to their disadvantage? Not even the 
 most pronounced war-maker would say "yes." 
 
 The history of Italy in this respect is similar to the 
 history of most countries of Europe. But Italy, which has 
 been formed by the junction of so many different smaller 
 powers, is itself but a small power in the whole system of 
 Europe, and the whole of Europe occupies only a part of the 
 complete system of mondial relations stretching from 
 continent to continent. 
 
 content, perhaps, with their own acknowledgment of our superiority, 
 my attention was forcibly struck by one or two facts. One was that 
 both clans spoke GaeUc, both clans had the patronymic " Mac," and 
 both clans had no doubt an origin either identical or closely asso- 
 ciated. Then again there was the word mountain; a mountain only 
 divided them. The mountain had no particular attraction in itself, 
 since it was considered a sufficient barrier. Yet these two clans 
 could think of nothing better than mutual slaughter, and since even 
 the most warlike people seem to require some pretext for slaughtering, 
 there can be little doubt but that feelings and emotions and grudges 
 and points of honour and clan patriotism had been worked up to 
 boiling point in the breasts of the MacGregors and the Maclaurens. 
 
 Then we have all the evils of the after-game of war. It is con- 
 sidered not merely honourable but in the highest degree praiseworthy 
 at certain times to slander and vilify our enemies, to misrepresent 
 them, to spread all manner of false stories concerning them, to whip 
 up our own prejudices until mere prejudice itself seems a virtue, 
 and to deny excellence to the enemy, even in those works where some 
 great mind has transcended petty limits of time and space, and given 
 to the world something, some happy stroke of genius, of art, or of 
 science, that adorns or raises humanity itself. This misrepresenta- 
 tion is replied to in kind. The . falsification becomes precipitated 
 into our histories, and serves to misinform and contaminate the 
 minds of growing children. 
 
 Looking at the matter in this light, I confess that I was warned 
 to take less pride in the glory of clan history, and however much I 
 may have been tempted to plume myself upon the success of the 
 MacGregors, I had formally to acknowledge that the whole affair 
 was deplorable. 
 
270 ETHICS 
 
 The Avoidanoe of War 
 
 We therefore arrive at the point where we can ask the 
 question as to whether it be possible, by the united consent 
 of all these people, to secure such a state of affairs that war 
 becomes eliminated. There are two ways of securing^ peace. 
 One is that a great power should subjugate all the others, 
 and bring- them all under the domination of its own form 
 of civilization. That actually happened, though for a com- 
 paratively brief period, under the Roman empire; but, as 
 we have seen, that empire fell to pieces for the want of 
 elasticity and illumination and central brain power. 
 
 At this stage of the world's progress such a solution 
 seems both difficult and undesirable. What other solution 
 is there? That of a League of Nations. I do not say the 
 League of Nations, for that would refer to the actual form 
 of a League of Nations as set up by some of the Allied 
 Powers after the war. That particular form of League was 
 not well conceived in certain of its essentials, while in some 
 of the details it showed a lack of statesmanship such as 
 rendered its operation impracticable. 
 
 It is not part of a work on ethics to deal with contro- 
 versial political matters in a partisan spirit, though, on the 
 other hand, a work of ethics would be incomplete and indeed 
 futile if it did not advance the principles on which such 
 institutions could be judged and criticized even to their 
 details. 
 
 I leave the matter there, with this general indication 
 which should be sufficient. The question which I set out to 
 discuss was as to the necessary permanence of war. I con- 
 clude from the forms of development that have already taken 
 place that war is not a necessary institution for civilization. 
 It can be eliminated, and if it can be eliminated, then, because 
 it has so many contemptible and atrocious features, it must 
 be eliminated. 
 
 The human race will not lose by the disappearance of 
 war, for since man's ultimate struggle is with the forces of 
 nature, there will always remain in this vast theatre enough 
 to try his finest sentiments of courage, of sacrifice, of good- 
 fellowship, of devotion and heroism. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 Favourite Ethical Qualities 
 
 Courage 
 
 One way of treating- the question of ethics is to select some 
 striking quality, such as courag-e, or self-sacrifice, or 
 benevolence, and to extol this quality, magnify it, and 
 elaborate it so that the actions of the world, as far as 
 morality is concernd, seem to revolve round it. 
 
 The method itself is faulty, for it is evidently tentative; 
 there is not sbown a derivation of the principle from a deep 
 source, nor any commanding reason for selecting this good 
 quality in particular, nor any means of exhibiting it in 
 relation to other good qualities which would be assured of 
 our immediate approbation. 
 
 Even if this were attempted, we should be reduced at 
 length to a category of virtues which we could recite as a 
 litany, saying- : Our good man shall have each of these 
 virtues. Then we might recite the list of the faults and 
 vices which he must avoid. Then the story of ethics could 
 be told. 
 
 This would not be satisfactory, for in contemplating a 
 human being, and especially in studying his development, 
 we have the sense of a certain plasticity of the qualities, 
 physical, mental, and moral, that go to make up the person- 
 ality, and we see that much depends on cultivation and on 
 the conditions of the environment. Then we appreciate, 
 more or less distinctly, the need for the standards to be 
 adjusted in regard to some purpose or intention or mode of 
 life and career of the individual. 
 
 To give a list of the virtues and declare that the individual 
 must possess them is a counsel of perfection, and yet it 
 fails on account of not g'iving us a sense of structure, of 
 development, of the life of an organized being. 
 
 Let us consider courag"e. I know a queen who sets in 
 
 271 
 
272 ETHICS 
 
 the higfhest place of all her admirations Richard Coeur de 
 Lion, singling him out for that high honour entirely for 
 his courage. 
 
 Another eminent personage who at the time of speaking 
 was following the prosaic occupation of a Member of Par- 
 liament assured me also that the first and greatest of qualities 
 was courage. I was struck by the way in which he uttered 
 the word. He spoke it with conviction, with an air of 
 restrained admiration, yet with a sort of lingering regret, as 
 though such shining virtues were not for our time. Subse- 
 quently he found his opportunity during the war of realizing 
 his own high conception of courage, and he did not fail to 
 distinguish himself. 
 
 In these little incidents I seemed to get the clue to the 
 treasuring, deep in the intimate recesses of the mind, of 
 this quality that hitherto I had associated with rough men — 
 bushrangers, pugilists, butchers, or sailors — rather than with 
 the refined but somewhat enervated beings who enjoy the 
 privileges of society. 
 
 Courage is the romantic virtue, or rather the virtue of 
 the heroes of romance. It brings in a flood of suggestions 
 of haughty spirits, of dancing plumes and shining swords, 
 and superb disdain of danger amid the fierce encircling fires 
 of fate, and of the triumph of the graceful, supercilious 
 knight over the coarser and uncourtly man of brawn. It 
 brings in sweeping visions of paladins, desperate charges, 
 and victory resting at last, as if by Divine right, on the 
 oriflamme of the perfect knight. 
 
 I am sceptical of this representation of the heroes of 
 history, for having seen men at the work I should be inclined 
 to trust one trained in a hard school — the Australian bush- 
 whacker or the American Indian fighter — rather than the 
 type of the matin^*e idol. 
 
 It was an Indian fighter who gave me a very different 
 reply from that of the M.P. nourished in literary ideals. He 
 said that he laid nO' special stress on courage, because every- 
 one had it. The remark surprised me even from one whose 
 blessed memories went back to the days when he rode with 
 Custer and fought side by side with men who died, not 
 theatrically but fiercely fighting to the end, and who flinched 
 neither from fatigue nor privation nor from danger. 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 273 
 
 But even the talk of my friend made me circumspect, 
 at least in my admiration of courage. Custer, he said, lost 
 his life and sacrificed the object of the expedition with which 
 he had been entrusted by a want of balance between his 
 courage and his intelligence in tactics. His next in com- 
 mand, Reno, saw him and his troop perish without raising 
 a hand to save him. That might have been difficult or even 
 impossible, but my Indian fighter thought that here the 
 tactics were in excess of the courage. Already, therefore, 
 we are departing from his sweeping assertion of the 
 universality of the quality. 
 
 If we turn our minds deliberately on that question, we 
 find that the great art of war has been built up by way of 
 restraint of courage. To protect oneself by a Macedonian 
 phalanx, to shoot an arrow at a foe from behind a wall, to 
 encase the body in a suit of armour in order to ride down 
 a less protected opponent, to mass troops so as to over- 
 whelm the enemy by ten to one, to lie, to resort to subter- 
 fuges and to deceit, to starve the other side before attack- 
 ing — in short, to carry out to perfection the lessons of 
 taking every possible unfair advantage; all this savours less 
 of courage as first presented to us in dazzling form than 
 of astuteness, cunning, fraud, and brutal force. 
 
 I do not mean to argue that courage is not useful; on 
 the contrary, it is indispensable at times to serve the tactics 
 which have been conceived in cunning and prudence. But 
 when we find courage, not the end, but the means, not the 
 finest triumph of our plans, but one of the instruments of 
 execution, it is evident that as a subsidiary quality it takes 
 a place secondary to the main motive. 
 
 The more we examine the matter the more settled will 
 become our conviction that courage is not anything in the 
 nature of a definite possession which one has in his control, 
 but rather a form of activity of the mind, changeable, elusive 
 and various. The same person may be very courageous at 
 one time and deficient in courage at another, or courageous 
 in regard to one set of circumstances and timorous In other 
 conditions. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, who had often shown great personal 
 courage on the battlefield, trembled and hesitated when, as 
 he proceeded to suppress the Directory, the members rose 
 S 
 
274 ETHICS 
 
 and shouted their disapproval. Here the Abbe Si^y^s showed 
 more fortitude than the great soldier. 
 
 History contains numerous examples of great heroes 
 fleeing under ignominious conditions and resorting even to 
 feminine disguises to preserve a life that had been fearlessly 
 risked in battle. 
 
 Themistocles, Hannibal, Bonnie Prince Charlie, Marshal 
 Ney are amongst those who illustrate the fact that men of 
 reckless courage will stoop to mean devices to preserve in 
 life the repository of that virtue. I have noticed within 
 my experience how mercurial a quality courage may be. The 
 same troop that yesterday fought with spirit and tenacity 
 may run to-day from some unexpected attack. 
 
 Courage may also be greatly developed by acquaintance 
 with the conditions and dangers and also, progressively, with 
 familiarity leading to mastery in the use of arms. A man 
 who cannot ride or shoot may well hesitate to take part in 
 a hazardous expedition where these qualifications are 
 requisite. If he is a master in these accomplishments, then 
 he feels that he can acquit himself on fair terms, and he 
 is eager to show off his prowess. 
 
 This consideration just mentioned is of importance. 
 Vanity, which is not in itself a virtue, is a mother of heroism. 
 The term vanity here must not be used in too disparaging 
 a sense, for it is the sign of an amiable trait to wish to 
 stand well with one's fellows and to win their respect. 
 Hence, as Napoleon, who had unrivalled experience in these 
 matters, remarked, the rarest of courage is the two-o'clock- 
 in-the-moming courage. 
 
 Skill in the work affects the display of courage, as is 
 strikingly evident when, in face of a chance to rescue a 
 drowning child, two persons stand, one of whom cannot 
 swim or keep afloat in the water, while the other is a strong 
 swimmer. 
 
 The courageous person is willing to take risks, but he 
 desires a chance of life. If his fate be already determined, 
 and he yet marches on to certain death, then the term we 
 apply is that of sacrifice or martyrdom. The courageous 
 man may shrink from that ; the man who has the stuff of 
 the martyr in him is usually not of the type of fiery courage. 
 
 The courageous man is often feeble or irresolute in the 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 275 
 
 council chamber. Napoleon said that Augereau, the type 
 of the swaggering- professional soldier, was despondent even 
 after a brilliant victory. On the other hand, it may be that 
 the man who will formulate bold plans and carry them 
 through with iron will may be timorous in an actual conflict. 
 Stambouloff, the Bulgarian statesman, was such a type. 
 
 Courage is not always highly rated in the sphere where 
 it shines most brilliantly and where it is essential, and that 
 is in battle. Marshal Bliicher, for example, was the type of 
 neck-risking, forward-driving swashbuckler, but the very 
 imj>etuosity of his courage helped to bring about his 
 numerous defeats. On the French side there were similar 
 leaders, and Napoleon severely blamed Vandamme for the 
 defeat at Ulm, brought about by the general's dashing 
 tactics at a time when caution would have been more service- 
 able. In the last war there were numerous instances when 
 hosts of men were sacrificed by leaders whose courage was 
 in excess of various other qualities necessary to the complete 
 equipment of a leader of troops. 
 
 When from these examples in the mass we come to single 
 combats, we may study the forms of courage with less 
 distraction. When two trained boxers are in the ring, their 
 tactics are marked less by the flaming generosity that the 
 romanticists associate with courage than by the multitude 
 of tricks, feints, dodging, side-stepping, retreating, and 
 guarding, by the whole category, in fact, of the less cele- 
 brated qualities of deceit and sensitiveness to danger. 
 
 This last point deserves to be emphasized, for it is 
 habitual to praise a champion for his overweening con- 
 fidence, his imperturbability. It is true that in time of stress 
 it is necessary for the boxer to keep all his faculties efficient, 
 but the state of mind corresponding is very different from that 
 of insensibility, or what is sometimes called in current 
 literature, lack of imagination. One of the most famous 
 boxers, Corbett, has said that the best boxers are highly 
 nervous at the beginning of a contest, though this is quite 
 consistent with holding that magazine of nervous force 
 under powerful control. 
 
 The boxer who has been avoiding the onslaught of an 
 ^§'§r^^ssive <and perhaps more powerful opponent suddenly 
 sees a chance of delivering a telling blow ; the effect of the 
 
276 ETHICS 
 
 blow, and also the safety of the boxer, depends on the 
 promptness with which he decides and the energy with 
 which he carries out his decision. A courageous boxer may 
 succeed where another may fail. 
 
 This review, brief though it has been, may have helped 
 to give a notion of courage different from that which seems 
 popular. 
 
 When we examine more closely we find that the sensi- 
 tiveness of the boocer is part of his magazine of the qualities 
 useful for fighting. A blow is aimed at his head. He sees 
 the blow coming, swift though it be, and he avoids it by 
 a sudden but powerful movement of the muscles, mainly of 
 the neck. In a short time a great variety of nervous re- 
 actions have taken place, and they have required a high 
 state of efficiency of n very complex mechanism. The eye- 
 sight must be good. From the retina a nervous impulse is 
 conveyed to the brain. This is related in association with 
 a complex system of stored impressions, and out of this 
 reference appears, as a resultant, judgment, and then a 
 directive to action. That directive is conducted along 
 various strands of efferent nerves, carrying motor impulses 
 to an associated set of muscles, which must act in well 
 balanced co-ordination. If the counter-blow be immediately 
 delivered, then there has been necessary the receipt of a new 
 set of afferent, or sensory impulses, giving a good picture of 
 the actual situation, and related at once to stored impressions 
 enabling the mind to form a judgment not only of the actual 
 situation, but of the expected movement of the antagonist. 
 
 Then a decision must be taken at once, and this decision 
 involves many considerants and delicate adjustments, as, 
 for instance, whether the blow shall be delivered with full 
 force, with the danger of exposing the boxer should it be 
 ineffective, or whether it should be delivered with consider- 
 able force, but yet in such a manner as to prepare for a 
 new situation. 
 
 I do not mean that the boxer reasons in this way. Cer- 
 tainly he does not speak in these terms, but the processes 
 are necessary, really in far greater detail and complexity 
 than I have described, even though these processes be in 
 part automatic. 
 
 The proper carr) ing out of these processes involves again 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 277 
 
 a high state of efficiency of the organism, and since the time 
 employed in the reactions is of importance, there is further 
 implied a considerable preparatory training leading to a 
 liveliness and sensitiveness of the whole nervous system. 
 Given the required physical condition, with the implication 
 of previous training and familiarity with the means of offence 
 and defence, and favourable general circumstances, then 
 courage will be present. Depress any of these beneficial 
 conditions and courage will be diminished. 
 
 It is true that there are men, and nations, in whom both 
 the physical aptitude and the quality of courage stand at 
 a higher level than others ; but their superiority depends 
 on matters involved in heredity and in race. These again 
 depend eventually on mode of life, exercise, nutrition, health, 
 experiences, and other factors ; but since the formation of 
 stabilized races requires a vast amount of time, we may use 
 the termi race to cover certain acquired results. 
 
 Finally, summing up, we say that courage is not a certain 
 definite possession of the individual, but is a quality — of 
 a so'mewhat elusive and plastic kind — varying from time to 
 time and in regard to different circumstances, depending on 
 disposition derived from race and personal heredity, but 
 capable of considerable development in the individual, and 
 on his training, his general health and his physical dis- 
 position at the moment. 
 
 Courage comes under the general principle of energy, for 
 the criterion that we have seen, in all the cases examined, 
 is that of the most effective display of energy. 
 
 Prudence 
 
 Prudence is generally taken as the obverse of courage, 
 and it is usually regarded as a less magnificent but safer 
 attribute. Neither of these judgments is necessarily, or at 
 all times, true. 
 
 The classic example of prudence is Fabius Cunctator, 
 the skilful Roman general who opposed Hannibal. It is 
 probable that almost any other form of tactics and strategy 
 than those he adopted would have uncovered Rome to the 
 enemy, and so Fabius gave a great prestige to the virtue 
 of prudence which he possessed to a high degree. 
 
 That virtue has often been made the refuge of timid or 
 
278 ETHICS 
 
 incapable minds who have covered their own deficiencies 
 under this great term. In history, and in my own ex- 
 perience, I have seen disasters of the greatest magnitude 
 which have been the direct result not of true prudence, but 
 of the meaner forms of the negative virtues which have 
 assumed the name. 
 
 Properly speaking, prudence no less than courage should 
 be the servitors of energy. The test of the value of both 
 should be found in the actual accomplishment of the work 
 in which these qualities have been manifested. 
 
 If, for example, a commander is sustaining a siege, and 
 if it be materially impossible that aid can come to him. within 
 a certain time, and if he oannot successfully oppose in an 
 open fight the forces that are investing his stronghold, then 
 prudence would dictate to him to make an inventory of the 
 available resources of the place, particularly of foodstuffs, 
 and to strengthen as far as he could all his material defences, 
 and not to waste either food or munitions or men in useless 
 attacks. 
 
 It would not be courageous, but simply foolish, to adopt 
 an opposite procedure, and from this example we see that 
 there is no incompatibility between courage and prudence. 
 Both are forms in which energy finds, according to circum- 
 stances, its best manifestations. 
 
 I have been told by an Arctic explorer that if when on 
 an expedition he began to feel the approach of fatigue, there 
 was a tendency to become alarmed and to push on rapidly 
 to reach the base. He said that in his experience he found 
 it better to ease up a little and to avoid all unnecessary 
 distress by hasting. Here was a fine example of prudence. 
 
 If a boxer be inferior in strength to another, but rather 
 superior in staying power and skill, it would not show a 
 lack of courage but rather a commendable prudence to avoid 
 close fighting until he had tired the other by long exertion, 
 and so improved the chances in his favour. 
 
 Or if a man be disposed to enter into any business what- 
 ever to embark his fortune and to stake his career upon it, 
 it would be commendable, as a matter of prudence, to make 
 himself acquainted with the conditions that he would have 
 to face. 
 
 All these examples of prudence that seem so simple in the 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 279 
 
 statement are reversed in the actual world of affairs in a 
 great proportion of cases. On the other hand, prudence may 
 be consistent with the greatest energy and rapidity of action, 
 and indeed inconsistent with any other course. 
 
 When Nelson found the French fleet at Trafalgar it was 
 the height of prudence on his part to sail in to attack and 
 destroy it, for in this way he removed the danger of the 
 invasion of England. 
 
 Or in the slower movements of politics, if a statesman 
 see a rival nation making extensive preparations for war 
 which must eventually be directed against his own country, 
 and if his own people are unprepared and the issue of the 
 war will possibly be fatal to their independent existence, then 
 it is not prudence that induces him to gloss over the facts 
 and lull his country into a false security. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte gave his opinion that Wellington 
 as a general erred by excess of prudence. On the other 
 hand, Wellington's remarkable consistency of success may 
 stand as a powerful answer on his behalf. Napoleon himself 
 possessed in fine balance the qualities of prudence and 
 courage, regarding them rightly as two sides of the one 
 medal. Napoleon III, on the other hand, erred by excessive 
 caution in the use of his reserve troops. He reserved them 
 at times till the battle was lost, whereas their proper use 
 was to decide the issue when the crisis of the battle had 
 arisen. 
 
 In the South African War Joubert had the opportunity 
 for a brief time of winning. Success, however, would have 
 depended on using the whole of his resources at once with 
 the utmost energy and determination, and in such a manner 
 that loss would have meant exposing the defencelessness of 
 his country. He failed, either by want of intellect or of tem- 
 perament, to rise to the occasion. He missed the chance 
 of victory, but he did not ward off defeat. 
 
 That is the point that the over-prudent man leaves out 
 of account. He misses the decisive moment, but he makes 
 the ultimate result only the more unfavourable. 
 
 When the history of the world-war is written it will be 
 found that on several occasions it was in all probability 
 within the power of the Germans to have determined the 
 conflict in their favour, if they had been led by a man of 
 
28o ETHICS 
 
 great military genius and of sufficient authority to realize 
 his plans. When they had reached almost to the gates of 
 Paris they hesitated between two plans. The excess of 
 prudence thus manifested cost them victory. 
 
 The British expedition to Gallipoli depended for its 
 success on swift and resolute action. At one period this 
 was possible, and had the expedition been successful the 
 whole course of the war would have been changed, and 
 hundreds of thousands of lives saved. But every mistake of 
 over-prudence was made. Time was wasted. Secrecy was 
 lost. The expedition was finally launched under unfavour- 
 able conditions, and the result was failure. For months the 
 prudent men of the Cabinet were debating, hesitating, shrink- 
 ing from possible disaster, and rendering it inevitable by 
 their hesitations. 
 
 From these examples we see that prudence, like courage, 
 may be measured by its effectiveness in regard to energy. 
 
 Moderation 
 
 Moderation is a quality of the same order as prudence, 
 and equally liable to be misconstrued and abused. 
 
 Aristotle made great use of the virtue of moderation, and 
 since his time it has been held in high favour by the 
 moralists. I accept what Aristotle has said of the "golden 
 mean " when referring, as he desired, to qualities of tem- 
 perament, but there is a manner of applying the term to 
 questions that admit of a scientific determination, and there 
 moderation may or may not be indicated. 
 
 Moderation is allied to compromise, and these terms have 
 been iso much praised, especially in assemblies such as the 
 House of Commons, that many persons find safety in adopt- 
 ing moderate opinions without thinking, and mediocrity has 
 become appreciated to an immoderate degree. The praise 
 of moderation has interpenetrated into our proverbial say- 
 ings, partly because the vogue of a proverbial saying depends 
 upon its acceptance by persons constituted mentally and 
 morally within average limits. Thus, for instance, we have 
 an expression in such phrases as : "Slow and sure " ; "Leave 
 well alone." 
 
 These sayings are consolatory to the majority of man- 
 kind, but they do not express always the summit of wisdom. 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 281 
 
 It is not the slow greyhound that is more sure to catch the 
 hare. It is not the slow steamer that is most sure to arrive 
 at its destination in the most convenient time. It is not 
 the bullet with slow initial velocity that is most sure to hit 
 the target. It is not the man of slow wit who is the most 
 likely to form a good judgment. 
 
 The advice to leave well alone is serviceable amongst 
 those who do not care to accept responsibility, and who are 
 content with mediocre positions, but it is immoral if applied, 
 as principles of ethics should be, universally. If we had 
 been content to let well alone we should have made no 
 improvement in any art or science ; we would be using the 
 distaff or the spinning wheel to this day, and railways or 
 telegraphs would be unknown. 
 
 We must respect the moderate man, for he is the repre- 
 sentative of the majority ; we must not respect him too 
 highly, for he is continually endeavouring to reduce to his 
 own level the only works that imply the advancement and 
 the glory of the race. The moderate man, the man of com- 
 promise, who always strikes the golden mean without hear- 
 ing the arguments at all, is a fool unless he seek some profit 
 for his apparent balance of judgment, and the man who 
 invariably compromises on that score is dishonest. 
 
 For it may happen that the truth does not lie between 
 two extremes. Thus the old theologians, and the politicians 
 who had to keep within popular prejudices, believed the earth 
 to be flat; Eratosthenes believed it to be round. This was 
 an extreme view, for the Greek philosopher was almost alone 
 in holding it. Yet it was right, and the man of compromise 
 who would say that the earth was shaped like a sausage was 
 not a model of wisdom. 
 
 Newton said that all particles of matter attracted all 
 others with a force that varied as the inverse squares of the 
 distances. There had been attempts, previous to Newton, to 
 discover the law, and some philosophers had endeavoured 
 to establish a system on the basis of an attraction varying 
 inversely as the distance. The man of compromise appears 
 on the scene and tries to reconcile the two theories ; he asserts 
 that the law of attraction is that the force varies in a manner 
 between that of the inverse of the distance and the square 
 of the inverse of the distance. 
 
282 ETHICS 
 
 This looks absurd in science, partly because in that case 
 the moderate man must express himself with some approach 
 to exactitude and because the question can sometimes be put 
 to the test of experiment. In religion and in politics it is 
 otherwise, and in those realms the moderate man is 
 especially content with himself. 
 
 The man of extremes may drive a wedge through the 
 enemies' lines, though at a loss of one hundred and fifty 
 thousand men ; the man of the other extreme may be content 
 to sacrifice the points he was holding rather than risk a 
 battle. The moderate man forms no decision, and finally 
 loses half a million of men for no result. 
 
 Two schools arise, one for strengthening the Western 
 front, the other for finding a chance of disrupting the plans 
 of the enemy at Constantinople. The moderate man decides 
 to send an ineffective force to Salonika. 
 
 Two fleets are in presence. The extremist-man wishes 
 to destroy the enemy in the style of Nelson, even though with 
 the loss of some vessels ; another extremist wishes to sheer 
 off so as to preserve the naval force intact. The moderate 
 man loses a moderate number of vessels and then sheers off. 
 
 A kind of speech that I have often listened to in the 
 House of Commons, where compromise is an open sesame to 
 the hearts of members, might be thus rendered : The measure 
 before the House is one of the most mischievous I have ever 
 known, it is without precedent, it is un-English, it will ruin 
 the nation, break up the Empire, loosen the marriage tie, 
 prepare the way for revolution, anarchy, and bloodshed . . . 
 but if it be adopted by the Party to which I have the honour 
 to belong, then I assure you that it will have no more faithful 
 supporter, no more devoted advocate, than myself. 
 
 A speech of that sort is seldom received otherwise in well- 
 ordered assemblies than with approval, and with an under- 
 lying appreciation of the speaker as a practical man. 
 Accordingly, as I have seen in actual experience, the quality 
 of mind here manifested becomes a recommendation to oflRce. 
 
 Moderation and compromise are certainly of real value 
 in cases where no especial principle is involved but only a 
 clash of material interest, where both sides to a dispute 
 insist upon looking at it entirely from a personal and selfish 
 point of view. 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 283 
 
 The influence of moderation is also beneficially felt in 
 cases where men, either in large or small assemblies, are 
 liable to be swept away in gusts of sentiment, whether of 
 patriotism or of revenge, of hopes or of fears, and to 
 advocate acts which in their cooler judgment they would 
 regret. 
 
 In these cases, however, other factors beyond those of a 
 mechanical formula of moderation come into effect — the 
 sense of justice, the capacity of forming a fair estimate of 
 the consequences of certain actions, political for example, 
 and the judgment that some acquire, if ever, only from 
 experience, but others from reflection. 
 
 In matters of this kind the moderate man, with his fore- 
 sight, his calm judgment, his manner of deliberation, his 
 reasonable argument and weighty utterance, is a figure that 
 acquires respect. But for the man who is moderate only 
 from calculation, or as a mask to his own lack of intelligence 
 or ulterior personal motives, for the man of whom it might 
 be said as of Cicero that his excess is moderation, I have — 
 for I have seen him at work — a deep distrust. 
 
 Temperanoe 
 
 Allied to prudence and moderation, though not necessarily 
 associated, is temperance. 
 
 The discussion of this virtue may also take place under 
 that of energy, for the object of temperance is to render 
 the person efficient in his work, especially when a call may 
 be made upon his faculties at a sudden crisis. 
 
 If, for example, the indulgence in alcohol made a man 
 healthy, wealthy and wise, there would be no opposition 
 to its use, except in the case of those whom the very word 
 alcohol fills with repulsion. 
 
 Our indulgence in the pleasures of the table brings its 
 own punishment, not only in the immediate disability, as, 
 for example that of drunkards, but in a whole train of conse- 
 quences — gout, Bright's disease, gastritis, and heart disease, 
 among others — and in the general degeneration of the tissues, 
 which leave the individual less resistant to any form of 
 malady. These lessons should be a sufflcient deterrent, but 
 there are also to be considered the incidental detriments to 
 others, which in extreme cases involve misery and ruix». 
 
284 ETHICS 
 
 Eatingf and drinking should be regarded not as ends of 
 existence or rewards for particular exertions, but as 
 necessary — to use a phrase I once remarked in a life of 
 Julius Caesar — for "the refection of the body." 
 
 This refection does not imply an unduly severe and formal 
 attitude to diet, for part of the process of digestion depends 
 upon appetite and the appreciation of good cheer. Then it 
 seems to be as little meritorious in the eyes of nature to be 
 ascetic as to be gluttonous. The ascetic doctrine arises from 
 the old suggestion met with in Plato, who probably derived 
 it from the East, and which prevails amongst fakirs of 
 to-day, that the body is an unworthy vessel for the soul, and 
 that it is meritorious to treat it badly. 
 
 Yet an astronomer who kept his glasses dirty would 
 hardly be praised for that fact, nor a mechanician who pur- 
 posely used the wrong materials for his motor and neglected 
 to clean his machine. The consideration of temperance is 
 therefore seen to fall under the general heading of the 
 principle of energy. 
 
 Temperance, it is evident, should be practised, but easily 
 and temperately, according to our ethical system. 
 
 Hamility 
 
 Amongst the tame virtues seized upon by popular 
 teachers with predilection there is none with which the 
 moralist seems more safe than with humility. Here, as in 
 the case of so many of these negative virtues, it is rather 
 of the things that are recommended to others than chosen 
 for personal use. 
 
 Humility, therefore, forms a part of all official religions, 
 for the framers of those codes of ethics that support authority 
 are less concerned with individual development or with high 
 national ideals than with the means of securing obedience 
 to the masters of the hour. The praise of humility is of the 
 same nature as that bestowed by Caesar on fat men ; not 
 that he cultivated fatness in himself, for his energy did not 
 permit of the accumulation of adipose tissue, but because 
 fatness was rather the evidence of a lazy disposition, peace- 
 fulness, content. 
 
 Humility is considered to be the antithesis of the qualities 
 of arrogance or of those that savour of egotism, or vanity, 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 285 
 
 or self-assertion. Certainly no one is less sympathetic than 
 the man who has an overweening sense of his own import- 
 ance, and who is always vaunting his own excellence and 
 setting his own qualities on a height which is not justified ; 
 but the man of humility reaches his favourite state of mind 
 through warped estimations of things and a mawkish kind 
 of self-consciousness. 
 
 If a man judge his own work by the same standards 
 that he applies to others, then, if he have any merit, he 
 must be aware of that fact. If, further, he has accomplished 
 good work in any domain where the standards are not merely 
 those of personal taste, but where demonstration enters, 
 then he ought to have a fair estimate of the value of his 
 achievement. 
 
 When Pythagoras solved the problem of the right-angled 
 triangle he sacrificed a hecatomb of oxen — in this case of 
 milk and honey — in honour of the event. Did he therein 
 display immodesty? Surely not ! Had another accomplished 
 such a work, Pythagoras would have appreciated it; and 
 then, because it had been given to himself to add a glory 
 to the human race, should he hide his light under a bushel 
 and treat the wonderful feat as of no value? In that case 
 we should have seen a morbid vanity peeping out from the 
 folds of the dress of humility. 
 
 When Sir Humphry Davy separated potassium from 
 moist potash, and so found a new element, he danced round 
 the laboratory with the spirit of a Bacchante intoxicated with 
 the subtlest wine. That sort of feeling, however, seems to 
 me natural, and not deserving of frowns. 
 
 In an athletic contest one may have regard to the feelings 
 of the beaten side, and in that case it may be commendable 
 to restrain one's exultation, but apart from such a case, 
 or from the good motive that here enters, there is often 
 an element of perverted vanity in modesty. The over-modest 
 person wishes to be pursued, to be discovered, and to be 
 brought against his will into the light. 
 
 Shakespeare, it is said, took no pains to collect his plays, 
 and he is praised by his admirers for that trait of character. 
 But they admire these plays, and they would think it an 
 act of vandalism of the most abominable kind were some 
 tyrant to destroy all the copies of Shakespeare's works. 
 
286 ETHICS 
 
 Why then should it have been a merit in any man to be 
 indifferent to such a catastrophe? And if the reason be 
 because they were his own works, we could see at once the 
 false importance attached to self. 
 
 There is also something- wrong- in the eulogy of humility 
 for this reason. If it be a virtue used only as a subterfug^e 
 to gain ulterior ends, then these ends supply the real motive 
 power. If, however, humility be a virtue in itself, why 
 promise as a reward for its exercise some future enjoyment? 
 Why not place the over-modest man in such a situation that 
 he can find every means of indulging- his humility? The 
 position that arises out of a true system of ethics is not 
 that of humility, but something more natural, easier, more 
 truthful, and more sympathetic. 
 
 Saorifloe 
 
 Most of the popular religions present us with ethical codes 
 that are made up almost entirely of negations, and even in 
 these negations they gain their effect by holding up a scheme 
 of conduct that strains the true balance of nature. That a 
 scheme of conduct can be built up by a list of forbidden 
 actions already implies a something in action which tends 
 to run athwart these limits, and that something must be 
 impelled or led by positive purposes. It is these purposes 
 then that are of prime importance. The commandments are 
 rather the rules of the game of life which indicate the limits 
 of digression, but not even in a chariot race or a football 
 match do those rules which indicate penalties give the im- 
 pression of the meaning, the interest, or the fascination of 
 the sport. So it must be in the effort of life. 
 
 The insistence on a scheme of things forbidden has in- 
 fluenced all those philosophers, such as Kant, whose ethics 
 have been derived from and coloured by the old controversies 
 of theology. In Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus," which has 
 been derived from Kant through Fichte, and others of the 
 German philosophers, we find Entsagen (Renunciation) held 
 up, not as the tragedy of some unrequited effort after good, 
 but as an end of philosophy and something desirable in itself. 
 This brings us to sheer absurdity, from which the only escape 
 is to aplp'ly the principle of Renunciation to this delusive but 
 ostensibly fascinating doctrine of Entsagen itself. 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 287 
 
 In the same category I would class all the ethical systems 
 that make a high virtue of sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice, 
 and at length strain this virtue to afford a salvation for 
 others whose virtue is a fervent desire to profit by the sacri- 
 fice of others. Historically the doctrine of sacrifice may 
 be traced to the practice of those bloody rites which in the 
 religion of Baal have been held up to shock the conscience 
 of modern man. Whether seen in the car of the Jugger- 
 naut, or in the terrible ceremonies of African savages, these 
 sacrifices have their origin in the conception of a powerful 
 and cruel deity who can only be propitiated by offerings that 
 recognize his power and seek to glut his cruelty. 
 
 It may be said that the self-sacrifice of the hero who 
 remains at his post is inspiring, as in the beautiful and 
 pathetic figures of Casabianca and Jack Corn well. Yes, but 
 in none of these cases is the object of the action, still less 
 of the life, that of self-sacrifice. The object is to maintain 
 the ship, and the object of the effort so indicated is to win 
 the battle, and the object of winning the battle is to safeguard 
 the country. It is true that in pursuing the question in this 
 way we may eventually arrive at some object, or policy, 
 which is not ethically good or great — in fact, when two 
 nations are in conflict we must certainly find an ethical 
 deficiency in one of them if not in both — but the secondary 
 motives which become predominant may be great enough to 
 hide the eventual motive from which they ostensibly take 
 their source. 
 
 It will happen often that in the pursuance of some good 
 object the occasion will arise when the agent must summon 
 up all his fortitude to resist opposing forces, and in the 
 course of this effort he may meet with death. That case 
 is not parallel to one of voluntary self-sacrifice for the purpK>se 
 of sacrifice. 
 
 Moreover, though the value of an heroic action may not 
 be lost, as for instance by virtue of the inspiration of 
 example, yet we must be careful here not to confuse such 
 influence with that of a boon conferred by the loss of another. 
 
 If the hero inspires his comrades he makes them, within 
 the measure of their capacity, ready to emulate his deeds ; 
 but there would be something shocking in the notion that 
 his action, by putting up a big amount on the credit side, 
 
288 ETHICS 
 
 would entitle his comrades to escape their duty and to pay 
 their fair iscot of peril sharing, not by realities but by the 
 glorification of one who had paid for them and absolved 
 them. 
 
 It may be accepted then that the negative virtues, or the 
 commands of forbiddance, can never serve to build up a 
 complete system of ethics ; they imply, even though they do 
 not expressly bring into evidence, some motives more 
 powerful and of higher quality. It is upon these, therefore, 
 that we should fasten our attention. 
 
 The negative manner of regarding the notion of conduct 
 may be even the cause of great injustice. It is as if in a 
 balance no heed were paid to the credit account, but only 
 to the debit. Hence a system of little output, but of small 
 expense, would seem superior to one in which the business 
 was on a magnificent scale, but in which occasional severe 
 losses were incurred. A man's conduct, and the purport of 
 his life, should be judged by his total achievement, and not 
 by an insistence on some fault imputed to him without con- 
 sideration of the circumstances that may have modified its 
 aspect. 
 
 Tolerance 
 
 That tolerance should be dignified by the title of a virtue 
 speaks ill for the community in which it is so esteemed, for 
 that society is but a degree better than one in which intolerance 
 is practised. Tolerance has reference principally to matters 
 of opinion, or the practise of some ritual or etiquette, for 
 if it touch upon acts which are hurtful in a material way 
 other terms come into use. The immunity of a footpad, 
 for example, is not a matter of tolerance, but of inefficiency 
 of administration ; but the freedom, say, of a Catholic in a 
 Protestant country, or of a Protestant amid Catholics, is 
 sp>oken of as a matter of tolerance, although in an enlightened 
 community it should be regarded as a matter of common 
 sense and justice. 
 
 In order to discuss the matter I will take rather a wider 
 range and endeavour to elucidate the real importance of this 
 quality. 
 
 We have seen that evil may follow intolerance even in 
 cases where some offence lay to the debit side. 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 289 
 
 The case is worse when the fault imputed is not really 
 an offence when judg-ed by a high standard of ethics, but 
 merely an infraction of some ordinance of the accusers. 
 When Huss was burned and Galileo imprisoned, it was not 
 for crimes as. we now understand the term., but for acts which 
 honoured their name and helped the progress of the human 
 race. That will now be readily agreed, but as it is not 
 possible to inflict severe punishments upon individuals in a 
 well-organized society without justifiable motive, it is evident 
 that these matters were regarded by their contemporaries in 
 a very different light. In the records of the processes against 
 these men — and they are taken simply as types — the expres- 
 sions of moral indignation, the feeling of over-strained 
 patience, the appeal to justice, the fervid prayers for right 
 guidance, and the sense of duty are exhibited on the part 
 of the accusers, not of the accused, and were so accepted by 
 the populace. 
 
 Again we all agree, and plume ourselves on having 
 developed to a higher plane of rectitude and of intelligence. 
 I say, however, and I could show it in a thousand instances 
 of various details, that we are in our time immersed in the 
 same kind of atmosphere. The names, by the appeal tO' 
 which we condemn, have changed and the actual punish- 
 ments are not so barbarous as of old, but the spirit of 
 intolerance is not less real that it has become more sedate 
 and more impenetrable. 
 
 The whole system on which the government of civilized 
 countries is founded, the force of established opinion, 
 whether that of a state-aided religion or that which appa- 
 rently more free is supported finally by something equivalent, 
 the whole ethics of a people may even in our day be turned 
 against the expression of certain opinions which bear the 
 banners of Truth and Liberty. 
 
 But it is said, the expression of these opinions may run 
 counter to definite laws or to traditional beliefs. 
 
 That is what was said with slight variation of terms by 
 the men who burned Huss. He outraged the sense of all 
 that they regarded as holy. Galileo added to this offence by 
 introducing notions that seemed preposterous. 
 
 What then is the standard? I say, never a secondary 
 standard where an appeal to truth is obtainable. 
 T 
 
290 ETHICS 
 
 In any case of doubt we should exercise if not intelligence, 
 at least toleration. We have seen the gradual progress of 
 our knowledge even of the exterior form of the earth, and 
 we are beginning to form a few clear notions of those inner 
 harmonies which we range under laws of nature. At each 
 stage of our development we have discarded some false ideas 
 and it is by virtue of that ascent in intelligence that we 
 deplore the intolerance of the past and resent that of our 
 neighbours. 
 
 To each individual, however, who sets forth his own 
 notions, or even his own faith, as a standard, this conscience 
 must be present : Countless aeons have been required to 
 produce thinking man, and since the dawn of his intelligence 
 he has risen in the scale, winning often with extraordinary 
 labour and sometimes by the gift of some wondrous inspira- 
 tion new possessions for the human race ; that process has 
 culminated in me ; what I believe is true ; to add or to sub- 
 tract from the product of my thought, in certain matters, 
 is a crime for which few punishments are too severe ; human 
 evolution, having reached its apex in my intelligence, has 
 now come to rest. 
 
 The men who hold these beliefs, tacitly maintained if not 
 exactly thus pronounced, are not those examples whose 
 virtues or whose intelligence impress themselves upon the 
 general admiration of mankind ; they are generally ignorant 
 or falsely educated, and they are almost always destitute of 
 any merit of having contributed anything to civilization 
 except the defence of their class and order. 
 
 We should be admonished by history to be chary of in- 
 tolerance in matters of creeds, but the spirit of intolerance 
 does not stop there. There is a disposition on the part of 
 men to cut and carve the world after their own ideas, to 
 create a god according to their image, and to reduce, in the 
 manner of Procrustes, every one to their own mental and 
 moral size. An extreme example was the Sultan Omar who 
 gave orders to destroy all books except the Koran, for these 
 books either agreed with the Koran and were superfluous 
 or they disagreed with it and were wicked. 
 
 Here is a high type of faith in action, but for such 
 an example to be admirable we must be sure that the 
 brain of Omar had comprehended the universe and that 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 291 
 
 the Koran had discoursed truly of all things fit to be 
 known. 
 
 Without labouring- this aspect of the question, I will say 
 at once that in all our laws, institutions, social customs, 
 we should trust far more than hitherto to the sane develop- 
 ment of nature, and cease to try to direct her by putting 
 her in splints and bandages of our own devising. If all the 
 parts of an organism round out to full development, the 
 health of that organism will be better assured than if, with 
 imperfect knowledge, we try to cramp and stifle any of the 
 functions. 
 
 Let us make this a little more concrete by applying a 
 severe test, say the growth of luxury in a community. The 
 popular moralists tell us to go back to the simple life, but 
 that counsel is not easy to follow; we cannot be simple, 
 in a complex community, merely by wishing to dispense with 
 wealth and luxury. Good, honest, unadulterated food, and 
 serviceable raiment, and healthful conditions are not at the 
 command of the poor. 
 
 Moreover, once a community enters into the path of 
 growth and development the entrance of luxury is inevitable ; 
 and we must accept that with toleration at least with regard 
 to others, however simply we ourselves may prefer to live. 
 Take the fabrication of cloths. There was an epoch when 
 the garments that we now look upon as indispensable would 
 have been regarded as high luxuries. But at what stage 
 must the improvement of fabrication stop? Remembering 
 that intolerance if pursued to its logical conclusion means 
 forcible interdiction, shall we say that it is laudable to 
 fabricate badly a coarse garment, but it is a crime to make 
 a finer garment with higher skill? Here we come down to 
 the condition not only of the person who enjoys the luxury, 
 but to the consideration of the intelligence and the develop- 
 ment of the powers of the workman. At what stage shall 
 want of discrimination or indifference to the product cease to 
 be faults and become virtues? 
 
 Or again with foods, our interdictions will lead us to 
 like absurdities ; that it is laudable to make coarse bread 
 mixed with foreign and unnutritious substances, and a sign 
 of decadence to exercise upon this important product that 
 sort of developed skill and effort in improvement which in 
 
292 ETHICS 
 
 another sphere produces high art. Shall the rude villager 
 who puts up a shelter against the wind and rain be praised, 
 and only blame reserved for the architect who makes use 
 of a highly trained faculty to give us buildings which look 
 imposing to our gaze and which form the delight of refined 
 tastes? Shall bad music be laudable, but good music the 
 work of the devil? Shall a street artist be rewarded, but a 
 great idealistic painter be condemned to starvation? 
 
 To ask these questions is to answer them. I sum up this 
 argument then by a plea for tolerance even in matters in 
 which an individual mind may not find itself in accord. If 
 in a great state every faculty reaches a high degree of 
 development, the general intellectual resource, and the 
 material power of the community, will be found enhanced. 
 The remedy even for the invasion of luxury is not mere 
 interdiction, but a stimulation to a higher and completer 
 general development which aims at a harmony of greater 
 scop>e. 
 
 There are indeed a thousand indirect ways in which a 
 spirit of tolerance favours a state, but I will leave the matter 
 there, only calling to mind finally the hideous nature of all 
 intolerance which runs counter to our own. 
 
 Benevolence 
 
 On the opposite side to intolerance we find benevolence, 
 which Shaftesbury and Hutcheson and a host of other 
 moralists have made the principal pillar of their ethical 
 edifices. The insufficiency of this view has been already 
 pointed out, but the question may now be taken as to whether 
 benevolence is in all its manifestations one of the factors of 
 a true system. 
 
 Those who adopt the sentiments of benevolence, dis- 
 sociated from all regard of circumstances, generally regard 
 themselves as of superior morality, and they represent any 
 contrary view as destructive of the finer feelings of affection, 
 pity, and the desire of amelioration of the lot of others. 
 
 That is true, but there would be no need to conceive of 
 any system of ethics at all if we could always be infallibly 
 guided by our tender sentiments. But we have seen already 
 in considering sacrifice and heroism that there are occasions 
 when every faculty of the mind must be braced up to resist 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 293 
 
 g-iving way to impulses that in other circumstances give life 
 its reward and pleasure. Every officer who commands a 
 charge, every surgeon who performs an operation, recog- 
 nizes that there are motives higher, in certain circumstances, 
 than the facile and obvious sentiments of benevolence. It 
 may be said that there should be no circumstances in which 
 a charge of soldiers is allowable, but that again is one of 
 those counsels of perfection which are not at present 
 universally applicable. 
 
 But quite apart from such cases there are others inevitable 
 in the nature of things where the tendency to unreflecting 
 benevolence must be resisted. 
 
 The natural play of reproduction would soon produce a 
 disastrous state of affairs on earth, for reproduction proceeds 
 by a rate of multiplication while the means of sustenance, 
 though containing great unexplored and unused tracts and 
 though depreciated by inefficient methods, are yet limited. 
 Therefore whether by agencies within our control or other- 
 wise, some restriction must necessarily be imposed on the 
 population. This reduces us to consider, in as far as we 
 intervene at all, certain grounds of choice. 
 
 Now the eugenists have furnished us with statistics that 
 make our knowledge more precise, though without these the 
 main facts are evident, of certain kinds of families — lunatics, 
 diseased and degenerate p>eople generally — who are not 
 deficient in powers of reproduction but whose offspring are 
 destined to lower, physically and morally, the average level 
 of humanity. 
 
 Most of the moralists, and especially those whose self- 
 interest constrains them to advocate certain opinions, refuse 
 to look such facts in the face, and they confuse the issue by 
 creating prejudices against those who desire to see the way 
 out. In this attitude the moralists are guilty of that funda- 
 mental immorality which consists in the perversion of truth. 
 
 Without insisting on this point further, we may find some 
 of the advocates of benevolence who will have honestly en- 
 deavoured to adapt their principles. They will not favour 
 drunken, lunatic or degenerate familiies to multiply at the 
 expense of the saner and healthier population, though they 
 would treat with care and even indulgence those of them 
 who are actually living and whom they regard as afflicted. 
 
294 ETHICS 
 
 This position, however, is within the compass of the 
 eugenists, and so we see that benevolence finds it necessary 
 to take into account other factors that refer to justice and 
 to the general efficiency of the race. In this way referring- 
 now to deep bases, we have been led on this narrow line of 
 argument to associate Truth and Energy with Sympathy as 
 fundamental principles. 
 
 Pleasure 
 
 The sense of sacrifice, abnegation, Entsagen, and the 
 cultivation of the negative virtues correspond to a certain 
 view of the ethical world of which the original source is the 
 propitiation of a maleficent and jealous deity ; the next step 
 is the cultivation of the faculties and practices which tend 
 to ensure happiness for others ; the third step, which is really 
 the most direct and natural, is the desire of pleasure or 
 happiness for oneself. 
 
 The philosophy of pleasure was preached by Epicurus, 
 possibly as a reaction against the extreme doctrines of the 
 Stoics, just as the practice of the Stoics arose in part from 
 the contempt that men of strong character have always felt 
 for a life of self-indulgence. 
 
 In the development of English philosophy the doctrines of 
 Hutcheson, by insisting on the advantages of benevolence, 
 have through the principles of utilitarianism influenced first 
 Bentham, then the Mills, and, finally, Herbert Spencer. 
 
 All of them adopted pleasure as a standard, though 
 as they were, each in turn, of a rather dry ascetic cast 
 of mind, their notions of pleasure were not especially 
 attractive. 
 
 John Stuart Mill said that the highest pleasure was to be 
 found in intellectual enjoyments ; and he denounces sensual 
 pleasures. In so doing I hardly think that he is either fair 
 or philosophical. When pleasure is taken as a standard it 
 is pedantic and intolerant to prescribe to others the form and 
 quality of their pleasure. 
 
 His dictum as to the relative values of pleasures has no 
 general authority, for Mill by his constitution and his train- 
 ing, and by virtue of principles early inculcated, was cut off 
 from worlds of interests and emotions which go far to make 
 up the attractive forces that many people find in life. Even 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 295 
 
 his intellectual regards have a peculiar sense of restriction 
 and lack of vitality. 
 
 Another individual at the opposite side of the scale of the 
 Epicureans may vaunt the deep strength of the sensual 
 pleasures and sincerely reject Mill's academic delights. If 
 pleasure be made the standard, on what ground shall one 
 or other of these tendencies be made predominant? 
 
 The verdict would be of doubtful value even of one who 
 had experienced with full zest both series of pleasures, for 
 the enjoyment depends on elusive circumstances of time and 
 place, and the same man may leave one for the other, and 
 then return to his abandoned love. 
 
 Lest there should be chance of misunderstanding I say 
 definitely here that I reject the standard of pleasure. Yet 
 again, and although my soul abhors the little gods of the 
 pleasure-hunters with their piggish appetites and their 
 snuffling little enjoyments, yet I am not in the least persuaded 
 that intellectual pleasures, as pleasures, are more powerful 
 than those of sensual origin, especially when both are found 
 in normal exercise. 
 
 The necessity of the maintenance of life, without which 
 refinements of ethical systems would have no value, have 
 brought it about that the great primordial instincts of the 
 satisfaction of physical needs and of reproduction have the 
 accompaniment of profound pleasures which reverberate 
 through the organism, and which have a deep poetry of their 
 own. 
 
 On the other hand, it is difficult at any one point, and 
 apart from results of knowledge and command which are 
 eventually given, to appreciate the peculiar pleasure of intel- 
 lectual work even at its highest. Ampere, who was one 
 of the most highly endowed minds of the human race, and 
 one whose work has been most fertile, said that he found 
 ennui in work even as he found it in idleness. 
 
 If a measure of joy be given by the sympathy which 
 the charm of possession arouses, the great observers of 
 mankind have not given the palm to high and abstract 
 thought. It is not the mathematician's study but Juliet's 
 balcony that excites vivid emotions. Goethe when he 
 wished to renew the emotional life of Faust did not propose 
 to take him through a new course of metaphysics ; he intro- 
 
296 ETHICS 
 
 duced him to Gretchen. Here it may be remarked that the 
 pleasures promised are not all sensual, but that they consist 
 in a world of associated desires, emotions, impulses and 
 aims. 
 
 But so it is, I think, in the main with the intellectual 
 pleasures. From Pythagoras to Archimedes, to Davy, the 
 great thinkers have often been overjoyed by their discoveries ; 
 but the immediate intellectual satisfaction has been immersed 
 in a feeling and a vision of the irradiation of the discovery 
 in the society of men. 
 
 The f>oet in his dreams knows ecstasies which are high 
 and pure, but they are also fleeting. His contact with the 
 world is in this region remote and indirect. Weeks, months, 
 even years elapse before he can publish his works, and the 
 reception is hardly ever such as to recompense him. The 
 appreciations, the joys, the rewards are given to popular 
 books ; and products of contemporary favour, which are 
 popular on their sole literary merit, are rare. Keats and 
 Shelley died unappreciated. Southey and Tupper enjoyed 
 remarkable vogue. 
 
 It is in this relation to the cold facts that we must 
 examine the thesis of the superiority of intellectual delights ; 
 for however facile the tacit acceptance, few popular writers 
 admit formally that the chief end of man is to produce 
 mediocre literature. I do not seek to discourage work of 
 high intellectual value, but I wish to discover the secret of 
 its power and not to rely on promises to which experience 
 gives the lie. 
 
 Before definitely entering upon the path of solution, how- 
 ever, I think it worth while to refer here to one or two of 
 Herbert Spencer's conclusions. He adopts the standard of 
 pleasure, and he writes at times as if in depreciation of intel- 
 lectual power and energy. He is carried away by that 
 deference to moderation which is also part of the Epicurean 
 philosophy, and as there is contradiction here with his own 
 example and the impulses which drive him forward, his 
 writings in this instance are far from convincing. Asked 
 to give an example of the fulfilment of a high ethical work 
 he cites that of the mother suckling her child, because here 
 is an act which gives pleasure to both. 
 
 Put if we pursue this line of arg^ument we would find 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 297 
 
 something ethically inferior in the mother who compelled 
 her child to take some necessary medicine or who disciplined 
 the child to give it a stronger character. Here we have a 
 case which will illustrate the divergence between the pleasure 
 philosophy and the view of ethics which this present work 
 presents. 
 
 There is nothing that justifies us in selecting pleasure as 
 the end of life, and when we cast our glances along the 
 immense vistas of the past and see the gradual rise of man, 
 and when we open our eyes to the visions of the future, and 
 feel something like the stirring of new faculties within us in 
 lifting our aspirations to the alluring future; then this search, 
 as the object of life, of pleasure for pleasure is too mean 
 and petty to satisfy the pleasure-seekers themselves. 
 
 Nevertheless the world is so ordained, and it is so of 
 necessity, when we have regard to the development of man 
 from inconscient, or little-conscious, organisms, that pleasure 
 is a concomitant of the normal exercise of faculty. 
 
 Pleasure is therefore a guide rather than an end, and a 
 guide that at times must be disregarded in view of a wider 
 scope of ethics than that of immediate fulfilment of desires. 
 
 Duty 
 
 The case of the mother and the child becomes seen in its 
 proper perspective. Here is an exercise of faculty, involving 
 no great complexity of mental effort, which, because it is 
 fundamental and natural, is accompanied by pleasure, and 
 for a similar reason is accompanied by pleasure in the child. 
 It is possible, however, that countless mothers should suckle 
 countless babes without the ethical standard becoming 
 thereby advanced. These actions spring less from any kind 
 of calculation, or speculation, than from a desire to satisfy 
 a want, under conditions also where the neglect to satisfy 
 that want will produce pain. 
 
 Between these primordial wants and our highest motives 
 lies an intermediate structure, often complex, of secondary 
 motives ; but we should not on that account lose contact 
 with the primordial motives, nor seek to deprive them of their 
 freshness and beauty. It was because of the loss of that 
 contact that John Stuart Mill, as he relates in his auto- 
 biography, became extremely unhappy, even while pursuing 
 
298 ETHICS 
 
 his intellectual aims in a manner that should have, were his 
 own theory correct, stimulated and rewarded him with 
 hig-hest delights. 
 
 But we should not rest in the lower motives. It is 
 evident that these do not form the end, but the base on 
 which something higher rests. That higher we must seek 
 to build ; and here naturally come into play the intellectual 
 faculties. 
 
 The natural exercise of these is accomp>anied by pleasure 
 of a subtle and delicate but none the less real kind ; but not 
 in this case more than in the mother suckling the child is 
 the search of pleasure the motive. The motive is the response 
 to something within which is partly an allurement, and partly 
 what Walt Whitman calls the "urge," and what the Ger- 
 mans call Treih — "drive" — of which the factors are found 
 in the whole constitution, physical and mental, of the man. 
 
 Here now we can understand Ampere without depreciat- 
 mg him. The monotonous course of life, the incessant effort, 
 the prolonged strain of work, caused "ennui," but Ami>^re 
 worked none the less, and even in that work found a certain 
 satisfaction, and in the results occasional high reward. 
 
 We have reached here a point where in view not only 
 of the existence of the individual, but since ethics must be 
 general, in regard to the welfare of the community and the 
 advance of the race, we may speak less of pleasure than 
 of "duty " as the standard. 
 
 Duty is a term that demands for its proper definition a 
 consciousness of some motive or higher end ; but in each path 
 of effort the higher considerations will become more or less 
 evident. 
 
 Here again to prevent misunderstanding I dissociate 
 myself as determinedly from Kant's Categorical Imperative 
 as formerly from the pleasure philosophy. There is a clear 
 way between the two. Duty in the life of man implies no 
 unnatural strain, and in the ordinary exercise of life it is 
 accompanied by due rewards of pleasure and happiness. 
 
 The nearest approach here is to Aristotle, but with a 
 shade of distinction, and perhaps with a medium of 
 spirituality, if that term be properly understood. The view 
 of conduct is again something between that of the Stoic and 
 the Epicurean. The tolerance, the easy manners, the 
 
FAVOURITE ETHICAL QUALITIES 299 
 
 diffusion of goodwill and pleasure, are valuable accompani- 
 ments of the mode of Epicurus ; but these must not be mis- 
 taken for ends ; and for the severer crises of life the stern- 
 ness, the hardness, the unflinching heroic qualities of the 
 Stoic must be called up from their reserves. 
 
 **A calm great Epicure, a Stoic without strain " ; that is 
 the model of the structure of a character. 
 
 These considerations must now be referred to that larger 
 sweep of realities and thoughts which we have found in the 
 discussion of the Ideal and of Purpose. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 Certain Moral Problems 
 
 Disease 
 
 Having laid down the main lines, and indicated modes of 
 development, leading eventually to definite institutions, let 
 us see our system in its application to delicate problems of 
 ethics, where some deep fault seems to lie between theory 
 and experience. 
 
 It will be noticed that in the manner in which the 
 principles of ethics are here presented there is a far greater 
 regard than usual to great objective conditions of the 
 universe, to a world which is itself unconscious but none 
 the less determinative in regard to our actions, and that 
 there has been less appeal to our own favourite states of 
 mind, attitudes of praise or blame, or the cultivation of self- 
 righteous or disapproving feelings. 
 
 Thus, for instance, physical weakness, bad heredity, pre- 
 disposition to certain diseases, which are often esteemed as 
 rather endearing than otherwise, would be here regarded as 
 definite defects, inevitably bringing their own peculiar dis- 
 advantage and disgrace, if that term be dis-associated from 
 emotion and rendered independent of our own favourable or 
 unfavourable sentiments. 
 
 The suggestion might be disconcerting to class together 
 in the same category of deficients two young women, one of 
 whom was predisposed to phthisis and the other wantonly 
 vicious. It would be said at once that one was guilty of 
 sin, while the other was only a victim of misfortune. The 
 point that I wish to throw into relief, even at the risk of 
 misapprehension, is that nature keeps no special record of 
 sins as sins, in the metaphysical or theological sense, and 
 that indeed a false and strained conception of sin has been 
 the cause of much evil and misery and finally of sin in our 
 social life. 
 
 300 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 301 
 
 I do not mean to say that the moral regard counts for 
 nothing. Sentiment has its definite influence in averting-, or 
 in arresting, some course of degeneration, but when once 
 that degeneration has taken place and is definite, it takes 
 the same part in nature's tally whether we call it sin or 
 misfortune. 
 
 Nature knows nothing — or perhaps we should say takes 
 little heed of our social distinctions, or of our categories, 
 often artificial — of praise or blame. The day has passed, even 
 to our conception of things, when a Louis XIV could say 
 seriously : "God thinks twice before He removes a man of 
 my rank." 
 
 That saying of the great Sun-King sounds a little shock- 
 ing to those who do not find it amusing, but it is not more 
 so than the phrases and sentiments which we accept every 
 day as orthodox and admirable. We hear, for instance, of 
 the young woman, intelligent, beautiful, and virtuous, sym- 
 pathetic — the type of the May-queen of the village — who has 
 been smitten with consumption. In addition to her other 
 virtues, she has the special grace, we learn, of being deeply 
 religious and exact in her devotion ; and if her religion 
 happens to be the same as our own, to our sympathy and 
 distress is added a touch of surprise. We are tempted 
 to ask : Can this be so ? And we add : Such a good 
 girl! 
 
 When we look at the matter closely, we find that the 
 sentiment is in a disguised form that of Louis XIV. Let 
 us take another point of view which, however, brings us 
 nearer to realities. Phthisis, we now know, is caused by a 
 definite bacillus. Even that notion was in quite recent times 
 not only difficult to entertain from the medical point of view, 
 but was extraordinarily shocking to the religious sentiments 
 of those who considered that the best way tO' combat disease 
 was to rely upon some form of exorcism or enchantment. 
 Nowadays, however, amongst most intelligent people though 
 not all, it is considered that phthisis is caused by microbes. 
 At once then we come to the brutal point that the microbe 
 has no religion. When we realize that fact we are thrown 
 into a different set of ideas, and we see how absurd, not 
 merely from the scientific point of view but upon ethical 
 standards, has been our previous reasoning. Once launched 
 
302 ETHICS 
 
 upon the sea of these ideas we cannot turn back, and accept- 
 ing the situation we endeavour to find new guides. 
 
 We strike very deeply when we recognize that there are 
 not Protestant microbes and Catholic microbes, nor even 
 Pagan nor Christian microbes. It is not quite true to say 
 that they fall upon the just and the unjust, for they exercise 
 discrimination, though the ground of their choice is not 
 contained in our own somewhat sophisticated definitions. 
 
 There are certain soils on which they grow more readily 
 than others. The reason is partly that they there find food 
 that is suitable, and partly that their own immediate enemies, 
 the phagocytes, are less active. Phagocytes are our own 
 microscopical soldiers of defence against this invasion, but 
 the health and activity of the phagocytes have only a remote 
 connexion with official scales of excellence. It has happened 
 in the history of the world that a soil favourable for the 
 tubercle bacillus has been found occasionally in men of the 
 highest intellectual and moral endowment. 
 
 Having reached thus far, the suggestion arises to inquire 
 what are the causes that produce any particular temperament 
 or, to use a term which was formerly more popular, dia- 
 thesis. The diathesis is really determined by a thousand 
 factors, including those of race, family, heredity, environ- 
 ment, mode of life, nutrition, personal habits, and state of 
 health, which is in itself dependent upon a great variety of 
 factors. The question of health is also one that involves 
 peculiar features. Immunity from disease does not depend 
 entirely upon the health in the ordinary sense, or on fine 
 physical development or high vitality. Some races endowed 
 with these qualities fall victims to the tubercle bacillus, while 
 some dwellers in towns are relatively highly resistant. This 
 resistance follows a certain deterioration of health produced 
 by a previous attack, or depends on causes which have 
 eliminated from the family or the race the individuals who 
 were most likely to succumb. 
 
 The question therefore of the prevention of disease is 
 already seen to be one of great complexity. Step by step 
 in our analysis of causes we are led to study new factors, 
 and new domains, and we are far away from the original 
 simple conception from which we started. We see also how 
 far afield in our education the study of this question has 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 303 
 
 brought us, and how much higher is the development of 
 mind corresponding to the comprehension of all these forces 
 compared to that of our former ignorance. We are led in 
 this study to the same sort of considerations as' when on a 
 previous occasion we investigated the question of energy as 
 exemplified by war. 
 
 Let us take an example of another time, amongst other 
 people, for we are never so ready to see the absurdity of 
 superstitions, or the evil of prejudices, as when they run 
 counter to our own. 
 
 Prayer for Divine Intercession 
 
 When Philip II was King of Spain, he had a son, Don 
 Carlos, who was endowed with all the virtues that make a 
 hero of romance, except that these virtues were imputed 
 rather than really possessed. Looked at from the biological 
 side, he was a degenerate type whose faulty heredity had 
 become accentuated by a bad education and false environ- 
 ment. On one occasion while still a youth, Don Carlos, 
 who had already some of the bad traits of a more mature 
 development, tried to seize a young girl of the people. She 
 ran screaming down a side alley, and he in pursuing her fell 
 and broke his skull. He was carried to the Royal Palace, 
 and for days he remained in an unconscious condition. 
 Prayers were offered for him, not only by his own family, 
 but by the whole nation, or at any rate by as many of them 
 as were "well-thinking people." Yet he did not recover. 
 
 At that time Vesalius, the great Belgian anatomist, 
 happened to be in Spain on a visit, and though his practices, 
 such as that of the study of anatomy and the questioning of 
 nature, were looked upon askance by the Spanish authorities, 
 yet in times of political exigency even science may be 
 honoured. Vesalius was brought to the bedside of the un- 
 conscious boy, and he was asked whether he could do any- 
 thing to help him. The king, and all the courtiers and all 
 the ecclesiastical authorities, and all the "well-thinking 
 people," beheld in the scene the great catastrophe of the son 
 of the great Prince of Christendom struck somewhat too 
 sharply by the Hand of God, and they had tried to conjure 
 away the evil by propitiating the offended Deity. Vesalius 
 saw a delicate boy suffering from a fracture of the skull 
 
304 ETHICS 
 
 which had caused a portion of the bone to press on the brain. 
 He judged that the best way of conjuring the evil was not 
 by prayers to the Deity, but by lifting the bone. He there- 
 fore declared his confidence that he could be of assistance 
 in the case. 
 
 The king and the train of ecclesiastical magnates agreed 
 to allow him to try his plan, but they were not content with 
 having failed on their own line of action. They therefore 
 insisted that while he was performing the operation certain 
 bones taken from the skeleton of a holy monk, who had died 
 in the odour of sanctity, should repose upon the bed. 
 Vesalius made no objection. He carried out the operation 
 with all the skill he could command. It was successful. 
 
 One would like to add the sequel, such as we have even 
 in the fairy tales, that the anatomist, hitherto treated with 
 disdain if not with obstruction, received the recognition due 
 to his art and that he lived happy ever afterwards. Life is, 
 however, not a fairy tale. The truth is that when the opera- 
 tion was completed, and the boy began to show signs of 
 returning life, the ecclesiastics raised paeans of praise to the 
 bones of the holy monk, and when with equal truth and im- 
 prudence the assistant of Vesalius claimed some credit for 
 the surgeon, they were both driven from the palace in 
 ignominy. That was the beginning of, or perhaps rather 
 the continuation of, the misfortunes of a great man who had 
 dared to be enlightened beyond the suj>erstitions and pre- 
 judices of his time. Vesalius, wandering as an exile, was 
 shipwrecked on a deserted island, and he died of fatigue and 
 privations. 
 
 That story dates from an age that seems in many ways 
 remote from ours, but I say deliberately that it is paralleled 
 in our own time, if not quite in the direct manner of the 
 brutality, at least in the superstitions which are still living 
 and artificially fostered by various public and private endow- 
 ments. 
 
 When in our own day any illustrious personage falls ill, 
 public prayers are offered for his recovery ; that is to say, 
 if his station in life be high enough. If now we recall the 
 main lines of the activities of microbes, we should require 
 tO' see in what way the intervention sought for takes place. 
 If we brush aside all questions of detail and simply insist 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEiMS 305 
 
 that it does take place, then we come back to the position 
 of Philip II and his ecclesiastical counsellors. If any differ- 
 ence separate us, it is simply that of the rightness or wrong- 
 ness of the fine theological points which separate one 
 Christian sect from another, together with the tacit assump- 
 tion that the Divine Intervention will not operate to relieve 
 pain and suffering, or yield to faith and devotion however 
 intense, but is simply bestowed on a point of theological 
 etiquette. I leave the matter there for those interested to 
 proceed further, well knowing that nothing is more likely 
 to bring upon one fierce denunciation than the simple 
 operation of seeking truth and tracing out an argument to 
 consequences consistent therewith. 
 
 It may be said that though prayers are now publicly 
 offered, by order, for certain persons illustrious enough to 
 receive this attention, yet all the resources of medicine are 
 invoked as well. Yes, but that is exactly what Philip II did, 
 and it was only after Vesalius was successful, and the boy 
 was well, that he turned the vials of his wrath against him. 
 The plea makes the position from an intellectual standpoint 
 more ridiculous, even more outrageous than otherwise, for 
 the prayer is to the one great God, and the assumption in 
 sucht a case is that even in response to the most heartfelt 
 cries of the chosen and faithful the Omnipotent cannot act 
 without the aid of the bistoury or the pill of a sceptical doctor. 
 
 In India people die year by year from drinking the water 
 of some holy well teeming with cholera bacilli. We look 
 upon them not in admiration of their devotion, but rather 
 in contempt of their besotted ignorance ; but we never think 
 of applying, with changes according to circumstances, the 
 same standards to ourselves. But if the wretched Hindoo 
 insisting on drinking the contaminated water describes us 
 as materialists for offering contrary advice, we reject the 
 term, but we bandy it about quite freely in dealing with those 
 who run counter to our own superstitions. 
 
 Let us take a case where there has been a long drought 
 in a country. National prayers are offered up for rain. 
 The implication here is that by our intercession, in this 
 particular manner, we can change the course of nature and 
 suspend the operation of universal laws. How does the 
 man of science regard this problem? If he took the com- 
 U 
 
3o6 ETHICS 
 
 plete view of it, he would have recourse to the science of 
 meteorology, with which, on account of its diversity and 
 complexity, I have compared the study of ethics itself. He 
 would see that the reason for rainfall or drought depended 
 less on our state of mind than on causes operating naturally 
 and inevitably in the physical world. Is he even a less 
 helpful citizen on that account? No, for if he could have 
 his way, he would take steps to prevent the evils that follow 
 upon a drought. He would construct reservoirs, or he would 
 conduct water from lakes even at a great distance, and he 
 would have appropriate schemes for irrigation. It is pos- 
 sible, by the study of natural phenomena, that he might 
 at length devise means of causing water to fall from the 
 sky. One sees from this example alone how wonderfully 
 more educative is the scientific system. Step by step, 
 even by the very pressure of our necessities, we are forced 
 to study nature ; and the more we study nature the more 
 we are inclined to recognize in her not a cruel step-dame, 
 but a patient mother of our own, who answers all our ques- 
 tions invariably, and always consistently, and so leads us 
 step by sitep to the knowledge of her secrets. She may re- 
 quire of us at times, even with severity, to oast away the 
 incubus of tradition and false education that may have depre- 
 ciated our intellect and warped our morals, but I would ask 
 simply whether the loss of such a burden is an unendurable 
 evil. 
 
 Contrast with this educative style that which would result 
 if the limited conceptions, let us say of a Philip II, were to 
 prevail. If the simple demand for intercession were to be 
 successful in one case, why not, unless the Recording Angel 
 consults an Almanach de Gotha in Heaven, in all? If in this 
 way we can suspend the activities of the microbe, why not 
 also suspend the operation of gravitation? So that when a 
 child fell into the water, it should be saved at any rate if its 
 rank were high enough,* not by swimming, but by grace. 
 
 What should we come to eventually? Why should not 
 grace suffice for everything? But if this were so, we should 
 cease to cultivate either our minds or our bodies. We should 
 cease to lay store even by virtues which are of high moral 
 
 * This insistence is not mine, but always implied in the mind of 
 well-thinking people. 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 307 
 
 quality, for all our difficulties would be resolved by faith. 
 When the process were perfectly complete, the human race 
 would have degenerated, even according to standards which 
 all the world respects, until it became extinct in sheer 
 decadence. 
 
 To carry out, however, to its full the other system : 
 When swimming is necessary, the grace is swimming. If 
 we are stranded in mid-Sahara, with just enough water and 
 provisions to carry us to the nearest oasis, the grace is our 
 intelligence and fortitude of mind and the strength of our 
 bodies, developed by exercise assisted by temperance in 
 living. Here, too, we come to another notion of praying, 
 or the appeal for Divine Intercession. I do not say that 
 that is not possible, I only maintain that it is a rudimentary 
 or degraded notion to suppose that we are absolved by prayer 
 from developing our own powers, or that we may be saved 
 from the effect of natural laws by throwing ourselves into a 
 state of mind that may be entirely futile. To pray genuinely 
 is to work; the beauty of the prayer resides in the efficacy 
 of the work. If the work be well conceived, and adequate to 
 requirements, then when the work is completed the prayer 
 will have been answered. The proper attitude of prayer is 
 that of putting the shoulder to the wheel. 
 
 Bin 
 
 If we look to the operations of nature sanely, we find 
 unerring justice. There is never in nature, wherever else 
 it may arise, the impression of a Being gentle, meek and 
 mild. But there is always in every place, at every moment 
 of day or night, and in whatever way we may ask the 
 question, the inevitable and infallible answer, always equal 
 to the occasion, never inadequate, never in excess. There is 
 the one great example of immanent Justice. 
 
 Now let us return to the conception which, when first 
 presented, may have seemed either wantonly audacious or 
 paradoxical. I bracketed together, though in a large 
 category, the tendency to phthisis and the inclination to 
 drink, while noting that one is called a misfortune and the 
 other a fault. 
 
 In pursuance of my argument I say that it is inevitable 
 in the world, in a large scope, that every fault Is a mis- 
 
3o8 ETHICS 
 
 fortune. Why is the tendency to phthisis a misfortune? 
 Why is phthisis itself an evil? It is evidently an evil 
 because it impairs energy and, finally, destroys life, causing 
 during this process much pain and suffering, which again 
 are measured in part by a loss of energy from the vital 
 streams diverted into wrong channels. 
 
 Why now is drunkenness an evil? Because it leads to 
 physical and mental deterioration. It may be said that it 
 also leads to moral degradation, but when we inquire as to 
 how the moral degradation comes in, we find that we are 
 led back to the standards we have already employed. We 
 associate our disapprobation of drunkenness with that of 
 the cause of drunkenness — beer, or whisky, or other alcoholic 
 liquors. If drinking of these liquors were followed by an 
 excellent development of the body and mind, we should not 
 place them in an evil category. But when they produce 
 physical incapacity and mental deterioration, we treat addic- 
 tion to these liquors as a vice. If the liquor were in some 
 wiay forced upon us, independently of our own control or 
 even desire, we should not be considered blameworthy; we 
 should come under the category of the unfortunates. 
 
 Let us take another step, less obvious, and say : Suppose 
 that under certain conditions these liquors had been rendered 
 compulsory to us, but that by the exercise of intelligence, 
 and will power, we could obviate the conditions under which 
 we were forced to succumb, should we then be free from 
 blame, and merely unfortunate? I think most of us would 
 say : No. 
 
 Here, however, we come to a point where we see 
 approaching each other two such evils as drunkenness and 
 phthisis. Phthisis, be it remembered, eventually causes the 
 loss of the mental faculties as well, if only by depriving us 
 of life. If then we have a means of avoiding phthisis, either 
 for the individual or for the community, the same kind 
 of blame ought to rest upon those who encourage, or fail 
 to counteract, the ravages of phthisis as upvon those who 
 encourage drunkenness. 
 
 I do not mean to say that the mental regard or the 
 desire of the individual does not count for something, but 
 it should be considered as counting only to the degree in 
 which' it helps in obviating or in combating the onslaughts 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 309 
 
 of either drunkenness on the one hand or phthisis on the 
 other. When we investigate the conditions which are the 
 ultimate causes of drunkenness, we get far away from the 
 contemplation of the iniquity of the individual, and our 
 analysis will lead us into considerations diverse and complex, 
 such as those which arise when we study the sources of 
 phthisis. 
 
 If we see two races, one degenerating on account of 
 phthisis, which might be eliminated were it not for the faults 
 of ignorance, or prejudice, or selfishness ; and another falling 
 a victim to drunkenness, which could be eliminated were it 
 not for the ignorance, the prejudices, or the selfishness of the 
 community ; then nature, regarding both with equal eyes, 
 sees both going down the scale, from causes which have 
 similar origins and which march in parallel directions. 
 
 The current conception of sin becomes modified, I grant, 
 by these considerations, and it is well that it should be so. 
 I have endeavoured to strike deep down in the fermenting 
 abysses of nature, and in this way we arrive at truths which 
 are more fundamental and lessons which are more potent 
 than those of ecclesiastical origin. It is a relic of the Middle 
 Ages to regard sins as so many entities classified and 
 labelled, and which may be possessed by some individuals 
 and not by others, and where an account is kept in a sort of 
 ecclesiastical court, and where the culprit is asked in terms 
 that admit no equivocation : **Did you, or did you not, have 
 in your possession such and such a sin at a given time and 
 place? . . . Did you, or did you not, commit this offence 
 against ecclesiastical law? " 
 
 I pass over the punishments bestowed for a wrong 
 answer, for they are really too dreadful to contemplate. I 
 turn now to nature's method. There, too, is a continual 
 questioning and answer, even where the answer be not 
 conscious. Our states of mind, our contentment, our 
 hysterics, our anxieties, even our blessedness, all count 
 for something, but not for all. Nature is weighing every- 
 thing and to each act is apportioning, never in fury or in 
 feebleness, but always with justice, its due consequence, and 
 at every moment the tally is being made up accordingly. 
 
 Turn now to the conception from which we started — that 
 the whole series of grave causes which have produced 
 
310 ETHICS 
 
 phthisis should be outbalanced by a state of mind. That 
 looks now inequitable, an example of bad moral book- 
 keeping". We shall see this more clearly if we regard it 
 from the contrary point of view. Suppose that we had 
 acquired merit and so had chalked up a big- score to our 
 credit, would we care or would we be pleased if, by a tem- 
 porary lapse intoi a wrong- frame of mind, we not merely 
 suffered for that wrong in itself, but had our honourable 
 score wiped out at one fell swoop? No, in contrast we fall 
 back for solace now upon the unerring- justice of nature.^ 
 
 Wastage of Intellect 
 
 More difficult at one time it was to me to understand, 
 even from the point of view of good works and economy, the 
 waste of genius. 
 
 When a young man of "career" dies, and his friends 
 point to hiis fine talents and the brilliant future that seemed 
 opening up to him, one may sympathize in a human way 
 with these friends; but looking on the career that has been 
 closed and the talents that have been wasted these seem 
 from the outside point of view ordinary in character. The 
 matter is one of ambition, honourable enough, but moved 
 by selfish considerations. There is nothing here with which 
 to impeach, nature. 
 
 But at first blush the case seems otherwise when some 
 bright young mind is bent on work that is not selfish, and 
 which might serve to illuminate the path of mortal man. 
 Newton said of a young friend : " If Mr. Cotes had lived 
 we might have known something." 
 
 Why did not Mr. Cotes live? Why was a mind developed 
 
 1 Calderon, the great Spanish dramatist, would say, Yes. The 
 great theme of his plays is that the most splendid virtues are but 
 filthy rags if faith be absent, and that even a death-bed repentance 
 and acceptation of the faith wipes out the most abominable crimes. 
 Calderon with his dramatic genius gives this theme in all its beauty, 
 and I feel inclined to thank him for his clear-cut expression of the 
 dogma. To me he has reduced it to the absurd ; it is even more 
 ridiculous than wicked. Yet I prefer Calderon with his cold 
 sculptural granite faith to the petty weaklings and humbugs who will 
 neither hold the doctrine nor turn away from it, but who wilt to 
 every shaft that reason drives home, and yet by lies and hypocrisies 
 obscure the position and reassert their doctrines. Here is the deepest 
 of immoralities. 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 311 
 
 in g-ood work until it had reached a point where its efforts 
 would bear valuable fruits, only then to be lost for ever? 
 
 Or why was Keats given a glimpse of the inner meaning 
 of things such as was vouchsafed to no other — only to be 
 withdrawn, to suffer m.iserably, to die in obscurity, and to 
 live in memory misunderstood even by admiring friends, 
 his message misconceived? 
 
 Or why did Bichat bring something of the sacred fire of 
 inspiration, of imagination and enthusiasm, into the realm 
 of physiology that to most would seem so dull and arid ; 
 why did he reach the point where every fresh step would 
 mean a fresh discovery, only tO' go under, his work trun- 
 cated, his illumination lost? 
 
 Why did the great genius of Fresnel perish so early? 
 Why were his career and his untimely end paralleled by 
 Hertz, whose work during his lifetime has left his name as 
 a scientific term in wireless telegraphy, and whose posthu- 
 mous book on mechanics makes us see to what great ends 
 his subtle and powerful mind was reaching? 
 
 Why did that most astonishing soul of all, Evariste 
 Galois, burn so brightly, so briefly, leaving his mathematics, 
 into which he had seen more deeply than all others, a 
 dream ? 
 
 To all these questions the answer is now determinate and 
 even consolatory. Nature is far more varied, and deep, and 
 great than that of any of the minds that seek to interpret 
 her ; and the constitution of man himself has been built up 
 through ages so long and from so many myriad factors that 
 we cannot imprison that life even in the concentrated effort 
 of genius. 
 
 In stim.ulating that genius there has been neglect of 
 other faculties necessary to the development of man, and 
 the individual has paid the toll of a sin against nature, 
 conscious or unconscious. 
 
 Cotes was of a delicate constitution, rendered even more 
 tender by a spirit unbraced to the rough world. If mathe- 
 matics were to be a sufficient prophylactic against disease, 
 the understanding of nature would be more complicated and 
 less satisfactory than now. 
 
 Hertz died of tuberculosis, and if we have found that 
 the bacillus knows nothing of religion, it is also unacquainted 
 
312 ETHICS 
 
 with science. Fresnel and Bichat died from the effects of 
 overstrain in their ferv^id devotion to science. Galois was 
 killed in a duel. It was a tragic happening, full of poignant 
 pathos, but, again, would not the world be still more diffi- 
 cult if the path of projectiles and finally the law of gravitation 
 were liable to be changed by such forces as the power of 
 high speculation? 
 
 But here is another still more difficult problem : How 
 is it that in the moral world when we have struck into the 
 right path our development may become hindered? How is it 
 that so many obstacles, baffling obstructions and difficulties, 
 and cruel circumstances fling us back into inferior lines, and 
 cause a retrogression in our ethical values? Truth is our 
 only guide, we say ; why is it that because of truth we are 
 so often thrown into the shallows and the mean quarters of 
 life so that we starve in our mental growth and finally even 
 lose the force of truth? Why is it that of two men, one of 
 whom has no principles, no regard for truth, no great aim 
 except personal ambition, and no scruple as to the means of 
 success; another walking "ever in my great Taskmaster's 
 eye," reverent of truth, tenacious of principle, and lifting 
 his mind to high motives ; how is it, I ask, that the first 
 of these is the type of man who reaches to power in the 
 State, and by wielding power finds the opportunity of doing 
 considerable moral good, while the other is so often wasted? 
 To whom or to what are we to render the account? 
 
 Milton in his "Samson Agonistes" has a striking passage, 
 not less arresting because he speaks with the bitterness of 
 experience, where he describes the fate of misery that has 
 been meted out to so many of the great ones of earth. The 
 poets are familiar with, sorrow, and Wordsworth asks why 
 it is so difficult "to keep the heights the soul is competent 
 to gain? " 
 
 Ah, here perhaps we have a little light as to the solution. 
 For what Wordsworth and his school would call the heights, 
 especially in his regenerated days when his poetry made 
 obeisance to the inferior things of mere pomp, perhaps those 
 heights to others would seem depths. That is a question of 
 moods, and of the relative values to be placed on them. 
 
 We have no right to constrain nature to our values, for 
 unless we have derived them from some deep sources and by 
 
CERTAIN MORAL PROBLEMS 313 
 
 true reasoning they are conventional and, when we get a 
 little away from the main broad lines, sophisticated and 
 false. 
 
 Nature is always right. If a man follow virtue all his 
 life, and find no material reward, it does not follow that he 
 has missed his way. That phrase which, has come down to 
 us from old and which once I thought of as irony : "Virtue 
 is its own reward," I now^ accept without after- thought, 
 simply, naturally. 
 
 If we have been praising virtue for a concealed motive, 
 then it is that motive that is the essential, and we should 
 be judged by our service to such motive. If we have had no 
 other motive than virtue, then we become rewarded. It is 
 useless for us to oast our looks of envy upon the careers of 
 men who are called successful, for if we have been true we 
 find no need for envy, but rather pity, for they have not been 
 true even to themselves. They have been led by the motives 
 of others. 
 
 Pain 
 
 There is only one other point that remains. Apart from 
 the metaphysical conceptions of sin, suffering, simple direct 
 human suffering, exists. Why? 
 
 In the first place when we reach the normal view of a 
 true mode of ethics and a sane state of society, involving of 
 course good health for the individual and the community, 
 there will be comparatively little physical suffering, and far 
 less psychical suffering than now. In one of its aspects 
 pain is a warning, and since so few of us are inclined 
 to accept advice in matters where physical health and 
 inclination conflict, the sharp command of pain is at times 
 salutary. 
 
 Then again I do not know that we should escape or 
 wish to escape that strain which is short of actual painful 
 suffering. 
 
 When an engineer builds a bridge, he builds it to resist 
 strains, and any part is superfluous or detrimental which 
 does not bear its strain. And so with human beings. We 
 have work to do, even though we do not clearly see to the 
 end, nor understand the present meanings. There is a 
 healthful feeling in the exercise of our faculties, and we have 
 
314 ETHICS 
 
 not employed those faculties to the full unless we have 
 felt the strain, at least to elastic limits. 
 
 Pain shows when this line hias been overstepped. Then 
 indeed there appears some imperfection ; but the imperfection 
 is with us for our neglect of this kind of warning". In a 
 larger scope of things, with more knowledge and illumina- 
 tion, and from a standpoint in which we see better the 
 perspective and the order of things, the imperfections seem 
 less, and ultimately they may be reconciled into a larger 
 harmony. 
 
GENERAL SUMMARY 
 
 The study of ethics is one of the most important as well as 
 most fascinating objects tO' which the mind can be directed. 
 
 The great problem is to find in the constitution of the 
 world itself the directives to human action and the criteria 
 by which we should estimate the degree of development. 
 
 This problem is extraordinarily complex and demands 
 the subsidiary study of the physical, biological, and mental 
 sciences. 
 
 There are three methods of founding a system of ethics : 
 (i) the authoritative method, (2) the empirical or academic 
 method, (3) the scientific method. 
 
 The first two have no especial value. The scientific 
 method is that which is here chosen. 
 
 In the history of ethics we find comparatively few 
 attempts tO' found a system on scientific principles, and these 
 have been all tentative and faulty. Aristotle's system is the 
 most complete, but it fails for want of a deep base and 
 satisfactory general principle. 
 
 Most other systems fail by reason of being too sub- 
 jective, and responding to the opinions and temperament of 
 the authors. Kant's system is vitiated by his desire to safe- 
 guard certain preconceived notions ; it is not established on 
 a fundamental base, and the argument is a vast petitio 
 principii. Both Kant and Hegel are dominated by the 
 institutions of the Prussian State. 
 
 Kant has influenced, directly or indirectly, writers of 
 genius, Coleridge, Carlyle ; but the philosophical faculty 
 of these has been deficient. The Kantean ideas and 
 phraseology are prevalent at most of the universities of the 
 world, and this has accompanied a lack of fertility of thought. 
 
 Hutcheson, Hume, Adam Smith and others have 
 attempted to build ethical systems, but in each case the 
 analysis has been deficient. 
 
 Herbert Spencer is the only one whose comprehension 
 
 315 
 
3i6 ETHICS 
 
 has been wide enough, but his doctrine of evolution is not 
 a principle of nature, nor even, on account of its lack of 
 quantitative definition, a satisfactory guide to classification. 
 
 The science of biology has had an importance which 
 accidental circumstances have rendered exaggerated in the 
 history of ethics. The biologists have put forward great 
 claims, but they have shown a lack of psychology. The 
 study of progressive developments, or transformism, in the 
 biological world, is highly interesting in itself, but the 
 biologist cannot immediately . rise from that basis and 
 pontificate on questions of ethics. 
 
 M. L^vy-Bruhl has denied that a science of ethics, in so 
 far as it is legislative, exists. His arguments are acute, but 
 not conclusive in the sense he indicates. 
 
 The second part of the work establishes the principles of 
 Truth, Energy, Sympathy as fundamental parts of the 
 structure of ethics. 
 
 When these are examined with particular study the 
 principle of Truth becomes extended into the development of 
 science. The direction of human activity so indicated sug- 
 gests one of the criteria for which we are searching. The life 
 of the nation should turn more determinedly round science. 
 
 The principle of Energy concords with this, and gives 
 rise to the standard of efficiency, which again affords criteria 
 for the establishment of institutions which serve us for more 
 immediate guidance in practical questions. 
 
 The principle of Sympathy implicates that of co-opera- 
 tion, and at length that of justice, and it is the vivifying 
 spirit of the social developments of intercourse, of the 
 plastic arts, and of the poetry of the nation. 
 
 These principles are not only fundamental but they are 
 supreme, as in the com{>etition of systems of ethics they will 
 prevail by their intrinsic power. 
 
 A further search of criteria suggests a re-examination of 
 the biological data with a new purpose. 
 
 We find that the physical qualities do not suffice for the 
 development of man in the satisfying of his needs. The 
 development of his intellect is indicated, and this affords us 
 new criteria. 
 
GENERAL SUMMARY 317 
 
 We adopt Herbert Spencer's standard of "mass of life," 
 and conjoin it with that of energy implied in the complexity 
 of development according to a series of co-ordinations and 
 controls. This complexity of development must be in accord 
 with the conditions of external nature. 
 
 Keeping therefore in view the fact that secondary motives 
 must not outrun so as to throw into' desuetude the original 
 motives from which they arose, and recognizing that the 
 great primal impulses give driving power in life, we are now 
 able to lay down the great structural lines and to show the 
 principle of development of our system. 
 
 The formative principles are : Truth, Energy, Sympathy ; 
 from these principles should be deduced the series of institu- 
 tions which in a state form the immediate guides; com- 
 plexity of development corresponding to co-ordination in 
 accord with the conditions of the external world affords the 
 criteria of degree of development. 
 
 These principles will direct institutions, and the social 
 activities of science, art, literature, and affairs, as well as 
 the cultivation of the physical qualities of the population. 
 A complete and easy development requires a spirit of 
 tolerance amongst the people. 
 
 Part III deals with the problem of the immortality of the 
 soul, and with questions of ideals and purpose. The problem 
 of immortality of the soul is vital to Ethics, for we direct 
 our actions according to realities, and not to delusions, and 
 every kind of activity requires reward or recognition, or some 
 form of satisfaction. The arguments of the religions, those 
 of Plato, of Paul, of Berkeley and others of the idealist 
 school, are all faulty. 
 
 It is possible to show that science is not inconsistent with 
 the doctrine of immortality. 
 
 Our aspirations, and all that make the meaning of life, 
 depend on immortality. The psychical world without im- 
 mortality would be a chaos of broken meanings, yet the more 
 we explore the world, the greater and surer is our sense of 
 law and harmony. The verdict is for the immortality of 
 the soul. 
 
 In our lives it is not the immediate violent and forceful 
 
3i8 ETHICS 
 
 things that supply the most enduring- motives. These are 
 found in aspirations, hopes, endeavours; the seal of them 
 at their highest is beauty. 
 
 Over all our lives looms a great Purpose. 
 
 Part IV deals with forms of government, war, and with 
 some of the principles on which thinkers have founded 
 systems, and finally, with some of the most difficult problems 
 of social life and Ethics. These are now seen in truer 
 relation and in better perspective. 
 
 The best form of government is found by taking the 
 widest base and rising from that by a series of selections 
 until a small and manageable body of government is chosen. 
 
 Governments may be made far more efficient than at 
 present. 
 
 War is not an eternally necessary part of human life. It 
 has a character of stupidity which is not less revolting than 
 its terrible destructiveness. War must be eliminated. 
 
 The favourite ethical qualities, courage, prudence, 
 tolerance, benevolence, become better defined. 
 
 Pleasure is not an ethical end, but a guide to activity. 
 
 The motive force is not found in pleasure, but in the 
 natural satisfaction of needs that correspond to development. 
 
 New ideas, in accordance with our principles, will arise 
 concerning disease, sin, sacrifice, and wastage of genius. 
 
 Defects, wastage, pain, will be lessened in a society 
 founded on these principles, and finally even all that makes 
 discord in our intellectual conceptions will be reconciled, in 
 the extended scope of things, into a larger harmony. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abel, N. H., 13 
 
 Addison, Joseph, 216 
 
 Aesop, 137 
 
 Alexander the Great, 137, 141, 179 
 
 {note), 180, 263, 265 
 Allen, Grant, 70 
 Ampere, A. M,, 122, 207, 298 
 Amundsen, 149, 152 
 Appolonius, 203 
 
 Archimedes, 15, 28, 118, 203, 296 
 Aristotle, 4, 12, 14 ei seq., 29, 62, 
 
 100, 104, 203, 207, 218, 280, 298 
 Augereau, 264, 275 
 Austerlitz, battle of, 180 
 
 B 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 37 et seq. 
 Bacon, Roger, 15, 33 et seq., 207, 
 
 249 
 Bain, Alexander, 41 {note) 
 Bateson, Prof. W., 76, 78, 79 
 Bell, Dr. A. G., 231 
 Bentham, Jeremy, 59, 128, 294 
 Bergson, 12, 13, 71 
 Berkeley, Bishop, 217, 220 et seq., 
 
 228, 317 
 Bernard, Claude, 132 
 Bernhardi, 260 
 Bernoulli, Daniel, 64 
 Bichat, M. F. X., 311, 312 
 Binet, A., 51 {note), 67 
 Black Prince, the, 178 
 Blackham, Australian cricketer, 177 
 Blucher, Marshal, 275 
 
 Bohn, G., 51 {note) 
 
 Bonaparte, Napoleon {see Napoleon) 
 
 Bonn, Archbishop of, 114 
 
 Bonney, T. G., 67 
 
 Booth, General, 249 
 
 Branly, 124 
 
 Brown, Robert, 200 
 
 Browne, Sir Thctnas, 230 
 
 Brunhes, 49 {note) 
 
 Bruno, Giordano, 131 
 
 Byron, Lord, 32 {note), 151 
 
 Cabanci, Dr., 137 {note) 
 
 Caesar, Julius, 137, 139 et seq., 143, 
 
 146, 178, 179, 264, 284 
 Cajal, Ramon y, 71 {note) 
 Calderon, 310 {note) 
 Calkins, G. N. C, 51 {note) 
 Carlos, Don, 303 
 Carlyle, Thomas, 40, 59-60, 80, 81, 
 
 150, 191, 286, 315 
 Carnot, N. L. S., 94 {note) 
 Casabianca, 287 
 Castle, Prof., 76 
 Cato, 216 
 Catullus, 146 
 Caullery, M., 76 
 Cavendish, Henry, 208 
 Charles I, 246 
 Charles Edward Stuart (" Bonnie 
 
 Prince Charlie "), 274 
 Cicero, 146, 283 
 Cleisthenes, 202, 268 
 Cobden, Richard, 202 {note) 
 Coleridge, 40, 183, 315 
 
 319 
 
320 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Columbus, Christopher, 23 
 Cook, James, Captain, 224 
 Cook, Joseph, 63 {noie) 
 Copernicus, 15 {note), 33, 40, 64, 
 
 131 
 
 Corbett, 275 
 Cornwell, Jack, 287 
 Cortez, Hernando, 179 
 Cotes, Roger, 310, 311 
 Crampton, G. C, 51 {note) 
 Crawford, Lord, 49 {note) 
 Cromwell, Oliver, 22 
 Custer, G. A., 272, 273 
 Cuvier, 57 {note), 205 
 Czolbe, 119 {note) 
 
 D 
 
 Dante, 30 et seq. 
 Danysz, J., 79 {note), 241 
 D'Arcy, Count, 64 {note) 
 Darwin, Charles, 62, 66 {note), 68 
 
 et seq., 131, 157, 204, 208, 253 
 Darwin, Prof. F., 51 {note) 
 Dastre, Prof., 132 
 Daudet, Alphonse, 177 
 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 207 
 Davy, Sir Humphry, 285, 296 
 Delage, Yves, 70 
 Demoor, 76 
 
 Dempsey, Jack, 248, 249 
 Descartes, 33, 34 et seq., 45, 117 
 
 et seq., 131, 187, 207 
 De Vries, Hugo, 75 
 DoUo, 57 {note), 76 
 Dollond, 155 
 
 Douville, Robert, 57 {note), 76 
 Dugas, 100 {note) 
 Du Guesclin, Bertrand, 248 
 
 East, Prof., 76 
 Einstein, Prof., 120 {note) 
 Emerson, 228 
 
 Empedocles, 65 {note), 203 
 Epictetus, 30 
 
 Epicurus, 29, 104, 294, 299 
 Eratosthenes, 34, 203, 281 
 Eucken, 13 
 
 Euler, L., 13, 64 {note) 
 Eurybiades, 28 
 Eustachius, 63 {note) 
 
 Fabius Cunctator, 277 
 
 Faraday, Prof., 23, 123, 201 
 
 Fichte, 40, 59, 286 
 
 Flathead Indians, 162 
 
 Fleming, Prof. J. A., 124, 167 
 
 {note) 
 Foch, Marshal, 161, 162 
 France, Anatole, 158 {note), 263, 
 
 264 
 Frangois I, 203 
 
 Frederick the Great, 64 {note), 266 
 Fresnel, A. J., 121, 311, 312 
 
 Galen, 79 
 
 Galileo, 15, 23, 40, 115, 118, 131, 
 
 207, 249, 253, 289 
 Gallipoli, 280 
 
 Galois, Evariste, 131, 311, 312 
 Galvani, 122 
 Gauss, Prof. K. F., 123 
 Geddes, Sir A. C, 72 {note) 
 Giard, Alfred, 57 {note) 
 Gibbon, 146, 178 
 Gilbert, Dr. William, 33, 37, 122 
 Gladstone, W. E., 138, 155 
 Glaser, 49 {note) 
 Goethe, 12, 44 {note), 172, 205, 237, 
 
 239> 295 
 Gowers, Sir William, 190 
 Gray, Stephen, 122 
 Guilliermond,^ A., 70 
 
INDEX 
 
 321 
 
 H 
 
 Haeckel, Prof., 67, 74, 75 
 
 Haldane, J. S., 67 
 
 Hannibal, 137, 141, 264, 274 
 
 Hardy, W. B., 51 {noie) 
 
 Harris, Dr. Wilfrid, 71 {no^e) 
 
 Harvey, 33 
 
 Hegel, 13, 46 ei seq., 86, 87, 88 
 
 {note), 92, 315 
 Helmholtz, von, 124, 207 
 Hering, Dr., 51 [note) 
 Hermite, 119, 121 
 Herodotus, 225 
 Herschel, William, 131 
 Hertz, Carl, 123, 124, 127, 311 
 Hipparchus, 203 
 Hippocrates, 203 
 Homer, 82, 133, 203 
 Horace, 146 
 
 HouUevigue, M., 49 {note) 
 Humboldt, 32 {note), 179 {note) 
 Hume, David, 18 {note), 38, 39, 40, 
 
 43, 105, 128, 315 
 Huntingdon, American railway 
 
 magnate, 149 
 Huss, John, 289 
 Hutcheson, 18 {note), 38, 292, 294, 
 
 315 
 
 Huxley, T. H., 23, 57 {note), 63, 73 
 Huyghens, 33, 121 
 
 J 
 
 Jacobi, K. G. J., 30 {note) 
 Jennings, H. S., 51 {note) 
 Johannsen (Danish naturalist), 75 
 Jordan (French naturalist), 75 
 Joubert, Boer general, 279 
 
 K 
 
 Kant, 4, 12, 13, 40 et seq., 87, 88 
 {note), 100, 104, 217, 228, 286, 
 315 
 
 Keats, John, 32 {note), 201, 240, 
 
 296, 311 
 Keill, Dr. James, 191 
 Kepler, Johan, 33 
 Kirchoff, 54 {note) 
 Klein, 120 {note) 
 Koch, Dr., 116 
 KoUiker, R. A., 74 
 
 Lacaze-Duthiers, 57 {note) 
 
 Lagrange, 13, 120 {note) 
 
 Lamarck, 57 {note), 68, 72, 77 
 
 Lankester, Sir Ray, 50, 71, 76 
 
 Laplace, 13, 122 
 
 Las Casas, 138 
 
 Lavoisier, 40 
 
 League of Nations, 270 
 
 Le Dantec, 76 
 
 Leibnitz, 35, 228 
 
 Levy-Bruhl, M. L., 8, 83 et seq., 
 
 106, 316 
 Lie, Sophus, 120 {note) 
 Lippershey, Hans, 118 {note) 
 Lodge, Sir Oliver, 124, 224 {note) 
 Lotoy, M., 76 
 Lotze, 84 
 Louis XIV, 301 
 
 M 
 
 Macewen, Sir W., 72 {note) 
 
 MacGregor, Rob Roy, 268 {note) 
 
 Maclauren, Clan, 268 {note) 
 
 Malthus, 66 {note) 
 
 Marbot, 161 
 
 Marconi, 124 
 
 Marlborough, Duke of, 266 
 
 Marryat, Captain, 150 
 
 Martel, Charles, 178 
 
 Marx, Karl, 47 
 
 Masai tribe, S. Africa, 163 
 
 Massena, 264 
 
 Matout, 49 {note) 
 
322 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Maupertuis, 64 
 
 Maxwell, Clerk, 123, 126, 127, 201, 
 
 253 
 
 Mendel, Gregor, 75 et seq. 
 Metalnikow, 51 (note) 
 Mill, John Stuart, 150, 294, 297 
 Miller, Hugh, 63 {note) 
 Milton, II, 12, 154, 201, 259, 312 
 Moltke, von, 161, 163, 259 
 Morphy, Paul, 260 [note) 
 Mott, Sir Frederick, 71 [note) 
 Miiller, Max, 44 [note), 72 [note) 
 
 N 
 
 Nageli, K. W. von, 74 
 
 Napoleon, Bonaparte, 20, 137 et 
 seq., 180, 204, 259, 261 [note), 
 264, 266, 273, 274, 275, 279 
 
 Napoleon III, 279 
 
 Nearchus, 224 
 
 Necho, Pharaoh, 225 
 
 Nelson, 279 
 
 Nero, 30 
 
 Newton, Isaac, 10, 13, 16, 32 [note), 
 33, 35> 64, 113, 121, 281, 310 
 
 Ney, Marshal, 274 
 
 Oersted, Hans Christian, 122 
 
 [note), 123 
 Omar, Sultan, 290 
 Oudinot, Marshal, 161 
 
 Painleve, M. Paul, 15 [note) 
 
 Paley, 231 
 
 Pascal, 97 
 
 Pasteur, 115, 201, 203 
 
 Peary, Commander, 149 
 
 Perrier, 76 
 
 Peter the Great, 178 
 
 Philip II, King of Spain, 263, 303 
 
 et seq. 
 Plato, 14, 29, 133, 203, 216 et seq., 
 
 284, 3^7 
 Plautus, 146 
 Plotinus, 191 
 
 Pliicker, 120 [note), 172 [note) 
 Pope, Alexander, 137 
 Pythagoras, 203, 285, 296 
 
 R 
 
 Rampon, General, 264 
 
 Reno, Marcus A., 273 
 
 Retterer, 72 [note) 
 
 Richard, Coeur de Lion, 248, 272 
 
 Roberts, Lord, 260, 262 
 
 Rochin-Duvigneaud, M., 71 [note) 
 
 Rosa, Daniele, 76 
 
 Rousseau, J. J., 186 
 
 Ruskin, John, 60 
 
 St. Cyr, General, 161 
 
 Saint Hilaire, Geoffrey, 205 
 
 St. Paul, 218 et seq., 317 
 
 Scheele, K. W., 131 
 
 Schelling, 59, 64 
 
 Schilling, 123 
 
 Schwann, Theodore, 69, 114, 115 
 
 et seq. 
 Semper, C, 57 [note) 
 Seneca, 30, 146 
 Shaftesbury, Earl of, 292 
 Shakespeare, 28, 151, 152, 159, 285 
 Shaw, George Bernard, 19 
 Shelley, P. B., 12, 59, 296 
 Sherrington, Prof., 71 [note) 
 Sieyes, Abbe, 274 
 Smith, Adam, 18 [note), 38, 39, 105, 
 
 106, 128, 315 
 Socrates, 14, 18 
 Soddy, F., 70 
 Sophocles, 159, 203 
 
INDEX 
 
 323 
 
 Southey, Robert, 296 
 
 Spallanzani, 6g, 114 
 
 Spencer, Herbert, 4, 25, 48 et seq. 
 62, 100, 103, 104, 116, 152, i8c 
 198, 294, 296, 315, 317 
 
 Spinoza, 228 
 
 Spiritualism, 221 et seq. 
 
 Stambouloff, 275 
 
 Steiner, 172 {note) 
 
 Steinheil, 123 
 
 Stewart, A. J., 51 {note) 
 
 Stieltjes, 119 {note) 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred, 60 
 
 Terence, 146 
 
 Tesla, Nikola, 124, 206 
 
 Thales, 28, 129, 203 
 
 Themistocles, 28, 256, 274 
 
 Thompson, Prof. J. A., 193 {note) 
 
 Toscanelli, 34 
 
 Tribouillet, 123 
 
 Tupper, Martin, 296 
 
 Tyndall, John, 63 
 
 Vandamme, General, 275 
 Van Graaf, 206 
 Vercingetorix, 178 
 Vereshchagin, 179 
 Vesalius, 115, 303, 304, 305 
 Virgil, 146 
 
 Volta, Alessandro, 122 
 Voltaire, 64 {note), 159 
 
 W 
 
 Wallace, Alfred Russel, 73 
 Washburn, M. F., 51 {note) 
 Watt, James, 93, 94 
 Weber, 123 
 
 Weismann, 69, 73 et seq., 77 
 Wellington, Duke of, 279 
 Wheeler, Granville, 122 
 Whistler, James, 151 
 Whitman, Walt, 298 
 Wilberforce, Bishop, 'j^ 
 Wilhelm II, 47 
 William the Conqueror, 178 
 Wilson, George, 130 
 Wordsworth, W., 312 
 Wright, Prof., 191 
 Wundt, Prof. W. M., 84 
 Wurtz, Prof. C. A., 132 
 
 X 
 
 Xenocrates, 29 
 
 Young, Thomas, 36, 121 
 
 Zeno, 27 {note), 29 
 Zola, 159 
 
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