I i UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES SOME THINGS THAT MATTER LORD RIDDELL [Photo by Underwood dt Underwood I.OK!) Knil'I I.t. SOME THINGS THAT MATTER BY LORD RIDDELL 'Knowledge is power." LORD BACON NEW XSflr YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY • • « • * • • • •• • •• l • • m • c • * • • • • • * • • • • • • • • • • • • * • • ■ • • \ »• • • • « • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ••« * • • • • • • « • • • •* • • * • • • • * l|| * * • • • • ■•••• « 1 • • • ■ B .♦ • a • • • • • • • • • • • * • • • • • • * • » • • * • • • • • • c • * • • • • • • • • ■ « • • • • « • • • • • • • • • », • • • • • • • •*..• • • • • • * • • • * • • • • • • • SOME THINGS THAT MATTER. I PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA o z -i R 4035 R43s PREFACE It has been suggested that I should reproduce in more permanent form a series of articles which s* I wrote in John o' London's Weekly. Hence this book. The later chapters were written in order to 9 give effect to a suggestion made by Lord Morley when speaking at Manchester about fifty years ago, that the best way to learn to reason would be to study the methods adopted in the Law Courts. In these chapters, therefore, I have attempted to describe in popular terms the laws of evidence and, in addition, briefly to outline the laws of thought. The Author March, 1922. c C o GO CONTENTS CHAPTER PAOB I How to Concentrate ....... 11 II How to Observe . 25 III How to Read 39 IV The Art of Public Speaking 55 V Maxims for Speakers 71 VI The Use of the Dictionary 85 VII The Fly- Wheel of Civilization: Importance of Habit 93 VIII How to Think 103 IX How to Judge Things 113 X Circumstantial Evidence 123 XI Facts and Inferences 135 XII Hearsay and What is Relevant .... 147 XIII How to Find Things Out 155 XIV The Laws of Thought 165 XV Legal Maxims 179 XVI The Moral Duty of Belief . ..: •> . ,.. 191 I: HOW TO CONCENTRATE SOME THINGS THAT MATTER HOW TO CONCENTRATE Concentration is the secret of success. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. Observation, concentration, and memory are closely allied. Interest is the basis of all three. If I were to show you a letter, stating that some one had left you twenty thousand pounds, or that your dearest friend had died, or that your best girl had married another, in a flash you would ab- sorb the information, and in after years the details of the incident would remain stamped upon your mind. You would remember not only what the letter said, but what I said, what you said, and where the interview took place. The reason is ob- vious. The communication would relate to a sub- ject of vital interest. To put the matter in another way, the brain is like a photographic plate. If there is a suitable light, it vividly records. If the light is dim or from [ii] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER the wrong angle, the result is an imperfect picture. The inquirer will very likely say, "Life does not consist of receiving letters of the kind indicated. Dramatic incidents are few and far between in the lives of most of us. What is the use of trying to base your conduct on deductions drawn from such rare occurrences? What I want to know is how to learn to concentrate on the ordinary affairs of life. Can the art of concentration be acquired?" As they say in the House of Commons, the an- swer is in the affirmative. Given a certain amount of discipline and repetition, the art of concentration for a particular object can undoubtedly be ac- quired. Most Britons are slow to absorb but ten- acious of holding what they get. I am not re- ferring to money, but to ideas. Take an example. A young man enters a merchant's office; a typical young Englishman — I will say nothing about the Scottish and Welsh, who require a different classi- fication. tjThe Scotsman is a born observer and logi- cian—the outcome of generations of theological controversy. The Welshman has imagination and the advantage of village life to bring out the best that is in him for certain purposes. At root the Welsh are a nation of poets, tempered with the shop-keeping instinct. Let us come back to the English — the backbone of the British race — the nation that has thrown up as many geniuses as perhaps any other race in the world, not excepting the Greeks, the Romans, and [12] HOW TO CONCENTRATE the French. Let us take the typical English boy who goes into a merchant's office — not very well educated, with little general information, and with his mind chiefly directed to game. Watch him be- ing put through the mill, and see him again twenty years hence. You will find him a shrewd, keen man of business, with a profound knowledge of his call- ing, but probably with little accurate knowledge about anything else, and full of all sorts of odd prejudices — an observant man where his own busi- ness is concerned. If he is in the woollen trade he knows at once the value of the suit you are wearing; he knows where the cloth came from and what it is made of. But note: it is easier to learn to con- centrate automatically — a slow process — like the young man in the office, than to flog yourself into concentrating on a particular subject. But this can be done by perseverance and taking trouble. Most of us can concentrate easily on a definite mechanical action — the shifting of a piece of furni- ture, for example — or upon some definite task, such as writing a letter or learning a piece of verse. The difficulty arises when we have to concentrate upon things which produce no immediate and definite re- sult, such as reading a book or a complicated docu- ment. We may think we understand it. We may believe that the task has been well done. There is nothing to show that we have not been concen- trating and that we have imperfectly absorbed the contents. [13] J SOME THINGS THAT MATTER On a larger scale, take the ease of two profes- sional men. One has the power of concentration in a more marked degree than the other. One suc- ceeds and the other fails. The failure does not perceive that he is missing his mark owing to defi- cient concentration. The successful man wears the other down because day in and day out he does his work just a shade better than the other. No great success can be achieved without concentration of two kinds — first, concentration on the main pro- ject, and, second, concentration on its details. All the great people of the world, in politics, commerce, or professional work, make everything subordinate to the main purposes of their lives, and when they are at work display extraordinary powers of con- centration. J The success of some men bewilders those around them because they never seem to work, or to work for any length of time. Their secret is their power to concentrate, and thus to obtain the maximum of result with the minimum of apparent effort. "Con- centration," says Emerson, "is the secret of suc- cess in politics, in war, in trade, in short in all the management of human affairs." Take the lawyer in large practice. He works like a galley-slave, and allows nothing to interfere with the performance of his duties. He is up early and late, rarely dines out, and sees but little of his family. He flies from one Law Court to another and from one class of case to another. Every night HOW TO CONCENTRATE he has to read perhaps half a dozen briefs, each deal- ing with a different subject. But he has learnt to concentrate because concentration is essential to the conduct of his work. For the time being his mind is absolutely bent on the case in hand. The habit of concentration grows. That is one advantage of education. The well-educated man is taught to concentrate when he is young. He is taught to assimilate uninteresting subjects. The less educated learn to concentrate, so to speak, by rule of thumb. . Eventually concentration in any particular direction becomes automatic. That won- derful friend, the sub-conscious mind, begins to work. When you tie up your shoe-laces apparently you are not paying much attention to the opera- tion, but in fact you are. You are concentrating unconsciously. The same things applies to a law- yer cross-examining a witness. He does not have to say to himself, "Now, pay attention ! Take care what you are doing or you may make a horrible blunder!" Subconsciously he brings all his guns to bear, and makes his mind work as hard as it can in order to extract — or obscure — the truth. As William James says in his interesting little book, "Talks to Teachers on Psychology": — "The great end of all education is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our enemy. For this we must make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, and [15] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER as carefully guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be disadvantageous." Concentration is a habit of mind. Men are not born equal in their power of concentration any more than in their power of playing billiards. But up to a point every one can improve his powers in every direction. This is an age of specialists. Re- member that concentration is necessary not only to do things, but to select what to do. In these days no one can achieve great distinction unless he concentrates on some one thing. Wisely Sidney Smith said: "Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in order to avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything," while Browning teaches, with even more truth, "Who keeps one end in view makes all things serve." Con- centration, indeed, is the great liberator. It yields large dividends of leisure. Hazlitt, in his admir- able essay "On Application to Study," says: "It is wonderful how much is done in a short space, provided we set about it properly, and give our minds wholly to it. Let any one devote himself to any art or science ever so strenuously and he will still have leisure to make considerable progress in half a dozen other acquirements." He goes on to show how this explains the versatility, or rather the multi-capacity, of men like Leonardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo. If you want to make your work easy, take an interest in it. Extend your interests, but do not extend them too far. It is wonderful [16] HOW TO CONCENTRATE how interest grows by patient continuous applica- tion. When interest is aroused, concentration fol- lows. Some time ago I knew a man who had never in his life been to sea. By chance he drifted into the chambers of an Admiralty lawyer and began to look through his briefs. He had no interest in the sub- ject, and knew nothing about naval terms. But gradually he became interested. He began to con- centrate, and ultimately ended up as one of the great- est Admiralty lawyers of his day with an enormous practice. I said to one of the highest authorities in the world on a highly technical scientific subject, "How did you become so famous? When you were young were you fond of this sort of thing?" "No," he said, "but I had a scientific bent and I had to earn my living. I tumbled into this subject. It was very trying at first, but I came to like it, and the more I liked it the better I did it. . You can- not really concentrate on anything unles you are interested in it.? Now I do it for pleasure. It comes easy. It is always in my mind, more or less." In short, practice is the best of all instruc- tors. There are all sorts of mechanical devices for stimulating concentration. It is not my purpose to endeavour to describe these. For example, certain games of patience are supposed to be effective stim- ulants. I have never tried any of these schemes. If I was not interested in what I had to do, I tried to [17] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER become interested in it. \Most pursuits have in them the elements of a game if you only look for them. The illuminating word often shows the way. Most students find law or hook-keeping, for example, dull subjects. But if they are lucky enough to meet some one who describes in an interesting and dramatic fashion the principles involved, and what all these more or less dull details are intended to lead up to, or rather the principles which govern them, the subject assumes a vivid interest. If you were to see the pieces of a jig-saw puzzle lying to- gether in a heap, they would have no interest for you. But if you were told that depicted on the pieces were the parts of a picture which you could make up, then each piece would have for you an ac- tual interest, and you would be keen to put them together. It is the same with law or book-keeping. Because concentration depends on interest it is important to find the key that will make a subject interesting. When I was younger I had for busi- ness purposes to summarise Acts of Parliament and other complicated documents. At first I found this heavy work, but when I had attained the necessary degree of concentration the task became a pleasure. I used to time myself in order to see how quickly I could read and summarise a page. Nowadays, if I have a spare half-hour, I often do this for amusement. It is interesting to take one of the Law Reports in The Times and to see how quickly and briefly you can set forth the facts and the rea- [18] HOW TO CONCENTRATE sons for the decision. If you bend all your mind to the task, and if you are interested in it, you will find that you can produce a really good bit of work in a very short time. But you will not do this unless you are interested in what you are doing. Many successful people tell you that they hate their jobs, and are always anxious to quit them. Yet in order to succeed they have by dint of persever- ance gained the art of concentration on their work. But note : they would work more easily if they were interested in what they were doing. «-- A lack of concentration is due to inattention. [That every one concentrates if he is compelled to do so, is shown by the fact that danger is a great in- centive to concentration. " The merchant who re- ceives a message calling for an urgent answer con- centrates on his reply because he knows that if he neglects to do so he will be a heavy loser. The motor-car driver concentrates on his task because he knows that if he does not do so he will be killed. The soldier concentrates on his drill because he knows that if he does not he will make mistakes and be punished. You are more liable to stray when walking on a wide road than when walking on the edge of a precipice. The difficulty is to con- centrate voluntarily and to acquire the concentra- tion habit of mind. But bear in mind that the powers of concentra- tion are injured by undue attention to self. Ex- cessive vanity or self-pity prevents the mind from [19] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER applying itself to its task. Emotions of ambition, self-regard, and anxiety will, of course, play their part; but, as William James points out, they should be confined as far as possible to the occasions when you are making your general resolutions and de- ciding on your plan of campaign. Their intrusion into the details of our lives prevents us from con- centrating on the immediate object in view. To quote Burns: "If self the wavering balance shake It's rarely right adjusted." In conclusion: one of the simplest methods to strengthen concentration is to work out arithmetical sums or mathematical propositions. Quite simple ones will serve the purpose. The addition of a column of figures demands concentrated effort by- most people, but when the task becomes automatic it ceases to serve the purpose. Another and more generally useful method is to read a paragraph in a scientific book, such as Darwin's "Origin of Species," and then to attempt to reproduce the contents in writing — not verbatim but in your own words. When you find that you can do this success- fully you can try to reproduce the contents of a page and later on a chapter. But a task of this sort cannot be performed satisfactorily unless the result of your work is checked by some one upon whose judgment you can rely. Otherwise you may not perceive that you have misunderstood the [20] HOW TO CONCENTRATE author's meaning or overlooked an important fact or argument. It must be remembered that concentration is an exhausting mental and physical business for those who are unaccustomed to it. Therefore, to begin with, the strain should not be too prolonged. Attention should be relaxed for a suitable period. In other words the habit should be gradually formed. Brisk vigorous concentration for a quar- ter of an hour on the first day may be gradually expanded into two hours or more at the end of a month. The essence of concentration is that the full powers of the mind should be centred on the task in hand. \A tired mind and body cannot accomplish this to the best advantage, and in the case of children and young persons harm may result from too prolonged efforts. N V [21] II: HOW TO OBSERVE ^ » LI WajA II HOW TO OBSERVE Appearances to the mind are of four kinds. Things either are what they appear to be or they neither are, nor appear to be; or they are, and do not appear to be, or they are not and yet appear to be. Rightly to aim in all these cases is the wise man's task. — Epictetus The maxim is "Pay attention!" Or, in common parlance, "Keep your eyes open!" Attention is a habit of mind. You can force yourself to pay attention and observe, but if you wish to become an effective, consistent observer you must cultivate the observing habit of mind. Most people are unobservant except in regard to matters in which they are keenly interested. A girl clerk, without effort and without conscious cere- bration, as it is called, will tell you exactly what clothes were worn by other women whom she met at a social function, but the same girl will fail to notice important matters affecting her daily work. Not because she does not wish to do her duty. The reason is that her mind is more alert where it is interested than where it is not. \J?he truth is that most people are bad observers. [25] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER The other evening twelve men, distinguished in various walks of life, were present at a dinner. A diseussion arose regarding observation. One of the party produced two "Fishers" from his pocket and folded back the lower part of each note, also the sides, so as to leave exposed only the following words: "Currency Notes are legal tender for the payment of any amount." He handed the notes round, and asked each of those present to say which was the ten-shilling note and which the pound note. Not a single member of the party guessed right. Knowing that ten-shilling notes were green, all assumed that the words printed in green colour belonged to the ten-shilling note. In fact, these words are printed in brown on the ten-shilling note and in green on the one-pound note. He then handed round a packet of Wills's "Gold Flake" cigarettes, and, pointing to the side of the packet which bears the facsimile signature of the makers, he said, "Tell me how many 'h's' there are." Of the twelve diners, only one — a naval officer — discovered that there were two. Every one else answered "One." The second "h" is in the word "the." It is quite easy to see when it is pointed out. Houdin, the great French conjurer, trained himself to ob- serve by special exercises. He would walk past a shop window and, without stopping, notice and memorise as many of the objects displayed in it as he could; then he wrote down a list of them. At first his lists were short, and his walking-pace had [26] HOW TO OBSERVE to be slow. But by assiduous practice he was able in one quick glance to notice and afterwards record an incredible number of things, and the faculty of swift observation thus acquired was half the secret of his success as a magician. Take one more test. Can you accurately write down the colour of the eyes of any dozen people you know? You will find it a difficult task. A written record is a wonderful test of observation. If you want to observe accurately, write down what you see, in the same way as students are re- quired to record the result of their observations. Take some simple article. Examine it closely, and as you examine it write a detailed description of it — such a description as would enable the article to be identified or reproduced. The pen is a wonder- ful aid to the eye. If you examine and describe an article in this fashion, you will be surprised at what you discover. A visit to the Law Courts will show how wit- nesses differ when describing an incident. Most of them do not wish to tell untruths. They are quite honest in what they say. No doubt some of them are influenced by prejudice. They think they saw what supports the side of the case in which they are interested. But most of them are bad observers. This is not peculiar, to witnesses. By way of a test, a professor arranged that during one of his lectures a man should rush into the room, turn round three times, and rush out again. Of course, the students [27] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER were taken by surprise. There were forty present — only five gave the correct colour of the man's clothes. All the others were hopelessly wrong. During the coal stoppage, a meeting took place at the House of Commons at which a number of persons were present. Later a question arose on what one of them had said. Six of those in attend- ance gave their impressions. They all disagreed, and the speaker himself gave a different version altogether. Some persons have the knack of cor- rectly describing a scene; others what is said; and others the contents of a document. I know a man who can be relied upon to state accurately what a letter, memorandum, or Act of Parliament con- tains. But he invariably gives an inaccurate ac- count of a conversation. He is perceptive through the eye — not through the ear. Hearing is as important to observation as sight. Some people have more acute hearing than others. But hearing can be developed in the same way as observation through the eye. Here again the maxim is, "Pay attention! Keep your ears open!" Many persons with indifferent sight are wonderful observers, and see more than others with full sight. They see because they look. Two men may each have a telescope — the one double the power of the other. The man with the higher power instrument sees nothing because he does not use it. The man with the lower power instrument sees much, be- cause he uses what he has. [28] HOW TO OBSERVE The Rev. Francis Bashforth, the chief authority on ballistics — that is, the laws governing the action of projectiles — is a good example. His experi- ments, carried out between 1864 and 1870 with comparatively clumsy apparatus, were so accurate that modern-day scientists with perfect instruments have been able to improve upon them only very slightly. He had a genius for observation and calculation. From the point of view of seeing and hearing, the man with good sight and hearing has, of course, an advantage over the man with poor sight and hear- ing. The former can readily see or hear what the other can discover only with difficulty, or perhaps not see or hear at all. But observation is not only a matter of sight and hearing. It depends upon the desire to see and hear and upon knowledge and imagination — knowledge which tells the observer what to look for, and imagination which suggests possibilities for investigation. It is a mistake, moreover, to suppose that you can safely pass from observation to the drawing of conclusions without a good deal of intermediary thought. Goethe, in one of his "Maxims and Re- flections," points out that this was a fault of the Greeks. "What wonderful eyes the Greeks had for many things ! Only they committed the mistake of being overhasty, of passing straightway from the phenomenon to the explanation of it, and thereby produced certain theories that are quite [29] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER inadequate. But this is the mistake of all times, and still made in our own day." It was the mistake made by "the elderly gentleman of scientific attain- ments" at Clifton, who mistook the flashes and guiding lights of Mr. Pickwick's dark lantern on his window for "some extraordinary and wonderful phenomenon of nature, which no philosopher had ever seen before." He was not wanting in mere observation; he made notes. A few minutes later he mistook Sam Weller's clenched fist on his nose for an allied phenomenon, and in the end he pro- duced a demonstration that all these effects were the effects of electricity, "which demonstration delighted all the Scientific Associations beyond measure, and caused him to be considered a light of science ever afterwards." The advantages of good sight and hearing must not, however, be underestimated. Many children do not observe because they cannot see or hear as well as they should. While in Westminster Abbey the other day a friend of mine pointed out a medallion in the distance to his small son. The little boy could not see it. My friend discovered for the first time that his child was short-sighted. A pair of spectacles changed the boy's outlook on life. Predilections and prejudices are fatal to sound observation. Inquiries conducted by people with strong views are usually unsatisfactory. For ex- ample, two women are appointed to inquire into [30] HOW TO OBSERVE the state of the drink traffic in a certain district — Mrs. A., a "pussyfoot," with an ardent desire to interfere with other people's habits; and Mrs. B., a believer in moderate drinking and a strong advo- cate of individual freedom. Mrs. A. reports that the inhabitants are being ruined by drink, and that nothing short of complete prohibition can save the district. Mrs. B. reports that there is very little drunkenness and that all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. Both parties are quite hon- est, but neither description is accurate. Usually scientific investigators are not prone to let their personal views interfere with their judgment. But sometimes a scientist is so convinced that his pet theory is right that he marshals facts in such a way as to give it the maximum amount of support. He attaches no importance to what does not suit him, and magnifies the importance of what does. Obser- vation can be influenced even by others, and the observer be made to see what he is to told to see. Shakespeare has a famous example of this in "Hamlet." Hamlet. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? Polonius. By the mass, and 'tis a camel, indeed. Hamlet. Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius. It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet. Or like a whale? Polonius. Very like a whale. Children are sometimes taught to observe by requiring them to describe a number of articles [31] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER placed on a tray. After the observers have been looking for so many minutes the tray is covered with a cloth and they are called upon to describe the objects. Sometimes the articles are exhibited only for a few seconds, and after the cloth has been placed on the tray the children are asked to say how many there were. Rudyard Kipling gives a graphic account of this game in "Kim." The object of education is to train the mind. The same applies to these games. In themselves they have no value. Their only merit is to train the mind to observe things that matter. Remember that in observation, as in other things, you must consider the object you have in view. If you want to describe a landscape you must not pay too much attention to worm casts. You want to look at the great vistas. On the other hand, if you are going to purchase a field for agricultural pur- poses, you must pay close attention to the character of the soil. So it is in other matters. You must observe what is important. That, too, is a question of observation — the art of picking out the thing that matters. The power to supply the need is a different quality. Those who are able to see what is required, and who are able to supply the want are sure of success. But the power of observation is half the battle. Don't try to observe too much. All observation is useful, but no man can observe everything. You must decide upon what is most valuable for your [32] HOW TO OBSERVE purpose. As one of the ancients remarked, "The half is often better than the whole" — a saying well worth reflecting upon. In Herbert Spencer's ex- cellent little book on education he says: "The question is not whether such and such knowledge is of worth, but what is its relative worth? Any one who should learn the distances between all the towns in England might in the course of his life find one or two of the thousand facts he had acquired of some slight service when arranging a journey. But every one would admit that there was no proportion between the required labour and the probable benefit." To quote the old song: Could a man be secure That his days would endure As of old,, for a thousand long years, What things might he know ! What deeds might he do ! And all without hurry or care. But we that have but span-long lives must ever bear in mind our limited opportunities. It is use- less to disregard the hard fact that the world can- not exist without work, and that efficiency is essen- tial to human success.^ On the other hand, one has to confess that there is a certain pleasure in the casual observation of things that do not matter. Man does not live by bread alone — he likes a little jam with it sometimes. Efficiency is not the only object in fife — albeit a very important one. Every one should strive to make his or her fife interesting. A keen interest in [33] \J SOME THINGS THAT MATTER what is going on around us is one of the best aids to happiness. The power of weighing and judging evidence is important, but the doubting habit is to be avoided. There must be a sense of proportion. [If a business man is called upon to make, say, twenty decisions in a day, he selects by instinct those which are relatively unimportant, and comes to speedy con- clusions, knowing full well the deadly effect of arrears. Nothing is more desirable than the art of picking out the thing that really matters ; the knack of going to the heart of a subject. This applies not only to reasoning on specific subjects, but to the conduct of life and business, j The story goes that Lord Chancellor Eldon, a great doubter, had offered to him two country houses in which to spend his summer vacation. He applied his mind to a close comparison between the two. No. 1 was better furnished, had more bed- rooms, was easier of access to London, etc. No. 2 was situated in prettier scenery, the library was better, he had more friends in the neighbourhood, etc. He debated the matter so long that the sum- mer passed before he arrived at a decision, no doubt unconsciously influenced by his wife, the most par- simonious of women. In this connexion note that in the practical affairs of life and business people with plain, simple minds, and a clear, definite objective, are more [34] HOW TO OBSERVE effective than those with more diverse interests and more subtle intellects. They know where they want to go, and move forward with a steady, persistent effort. That explains why the stupid often domi- nate the clever. 1 [35] Ill: HOW TO READ ' Ill HOW TO READ Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. — Lord Bacon Study and reading are two different things. Some books can be understood only by study. Each chapter must be read over and over again until the student understands it. Each chapter must be epitomised in writing, and the reader must examine himself with a key, or get some one else to examine him, so that he may ascertain what prog- ress he is making. If he is new to the subject he will meet with many words he does not understand. These he must look out in the dictionary. As time goes on he will find that he can grasp the subject without taking so much trouble. For example, take an engineering, law, accountancy, or medical student. When he reads his first technical book he finds difficulty in understanding it. In course of time he can read books relating to his profession with ease, if not with pleasure. It is usually worth while to read a serious book twice and to allow an interval to elapse between the first and second peru- [39] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER sals. On a second reading fresh points are often discovered. All this, however, has much more to do with study than with reading; and, as I have said, these are different things. The tendency to confuse them is at the bottom of a great deal of book-shyness. Study is directed to special, local, and often tem- porary purposes, and, to be successful, must often be laborious. Reading should also have a purpose, but it is a much wider one. The end of study, broadly speaking, is information; the end of read- ing is wisdom. Study is concerned with the meth- ods and furniture of life, reading is concerned with life itself in our deepest experience. The distinc- tion is vital, and it was the theme of Matthew Arnold's lecture on "Literature and Science" de- livered in America in 1885. He pointed out that Science is confined to the domain of knowledge, and that only very indirectly does this knowledge affect our sense of conduct and our sense of beauty, be- cause it is not knowledge touched with emotion. Science is concerned with new inquiries and truths and with the laws of the universe and with the visible progress of all the machinery of life; whereas literature is concerned with conduct, with beauty, with elevation of mind, and with those highest things which are the same to-day, yesterday, and for ever. This is the knowledge which can be derived from Literature as distinct from Science, and from Reading as distinct from Study. [40] HOW TO READ Most great readers have started without any par- ticular system. They read what interested them. Not a bad idea if you understand and remember what you read. When Lord Avebury, whose chapter on "The Choice of Books" in his "Pleasures of Life" I rec- ommend to you, consulted Charles Darwin on the selection of a course of study, the great naturalist asked him what interested him most, and advised him to choose that subject. In like manner one might advise the young reader to begin by reading what interests him, and then to follow his nose. Lord Sherbrooke went so far as to say: "Form a habit of reading, do not mind what you read, the reading of better books will come when you have a habit of reading the inferior." But Mr. Frederic Harrison, in his admirable essay, "The Choice of Books," rejects this as dangerous advice. You may form the habit of reading trash or second-rate literature and never be able to break it. He would have us choose our books with as much discretion and taste as we choose our friends, and he marvels that men who would not think of choosing their friends in a pot-house are content to pick up with almost any book they "come across." His essay should be read. But, for the ordinary man, milder counsel may be better. Dr. Johnson said that he would let a boy at first read any English book which attracted him, "because you have done a great deal when you have brought him to have some [41] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER entertainment from a book." He knew that ordi- nary men and women do not take to serious reading as ducks take to water. In the ordinary way read- ing is a recreation. If you are reading for pleasure, do not make your task repulsive. Read books that interest you. You may fancy a particular subject, and you may dislike another. Be on the watch for topics of interest. They are always cropping up. But do not read too much fiction. If you contract the fiction habit you will rarely read anything else. As Mr. Harrison says: "An insatiable appetite for new novels makes it as hard to read a master- piece as it seems to a Parisian boulvardier to live in a quiet country." The art of reading serious books is not natural to most people. It must be developed or acquired, but the same applies to most recrea- tions — bridge, tennis, golf, billiards, etc. You may not care for a game when you begin, but as you gain proficiency it grows on you, and gradually you become a devotee. So it is with reading serious books. You may not care for them at first, but you acquire the taste, and supply yourself with the means of spending many happy and instructive hours. Sound books are lasting friends, and there is an illimitable supply. One object of reading is to enable us to under- stand the art of life. In most cases the conditions of people's lives are imposed by necessity, but most of us can modify them by creating new interests. Books offer infinite possibilities in that direction. [42] HOW TO READ This workaday world is so trying at times, Folks chatter and squabble like rooks ! So the wise flee away to the best of all climes, Which you enter through History, Memoirs ot Rhymes, That most wonderful Country of Books. And griefs are forgotten. You go on a tour More wondrous than any of "Cook's"; It costs you but little — your welcome is sure — Your spirits revive in the atmosphere pure Of the wonderful Country of Books. Your friends rally round you. You shake by the hand Philosophers, soldiers, and spooks ! Adventurers, heroes, and all the bright band Of poets and sages are yours to command In that wonderful Country of Books. New heights are explored; and new banners unfurled; New joys found in all sorts of nooks — From the work-weary brain misgivings are hurled — You come back refreshed to this workaday world From that wonderful Country of Books. Books will help you to take advantage of your opportunities, and has not some one said that the art of life consists in the seizing of opportunities? It must, however, be admitted that while books broaden the outlook, practical experience is the best guide. You require a happy combination of expe- rience and bookwork in the proportion of, say, three to one. Some people have the gift of creating opportunities. They examine the position and strike out in a new line. But this involves powers of initiative comparatively rare. It is, however, within the meanest capacity to sit down quietly and take stock. "What have I done?" "What am I [43] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER going to do?" We are a]] apt to get into grooves. What Matthew Arnold calls "each days petty dust" obscures our vision. We are so taken up with the detail of life that we fail to mark the progress of time, and perhaps lose great oppor- tunities because we do not look for them. I have said, "Read what interests you." Always have some topic uppermost in your mind. A chance meeting or conversation may open up a train of inquiry. For example, when I was a youth I heard two men arguing about Cromwell's ancestry. Up to then I had taken no special interest in Cromwell. I had been taught about his public achievements, but knew little of the man. The conversation led me to buy a "Life of Cromwell." I looked up the point which had been discussed. I found the Cromwell family an interesting study. Then I bought a book containing his speeches. Cromwell made me inter- ested in the personalities of Pym and Hampden, so I took an excursion into their lives. If you are interested, try Morley's "Life of Cromwell," Fred- eric Harrison's "Life of Cromwell," and Gold win Smith's "Three English Statesmen." It is inter- esting to follow up a subject. For example, the growth and expansion of the British Empire, get- ting together such books as Seeley's "Expansion of England," "The Life of William Pitt," by Basil Williams, Lord Rosebery's "Chatham," Macau- lay's "Essay on Chatham," "Wolfe and Mont- calm," by Parkman, "Clive" in the "British Men of [44] HOW TO READ Action" series, Macaulay's "Essay on Clive," Mahan's "Sea Power," etc. Or the growth of the modern attitude towards the poorer and industrial classes, taking Morley's "Rousseau," Disraeli's "Sybil," Ruskin's "Unto this Last," and Webb's "History of Trade Unionism." To be sure, you may not want to draw up a long programme in advance. When you have done so it may frighten and fatigue you in the prospect. But let one book lead you to another. Let it excite j^our further curiosity along its own lines. If you have read and enjoyed Macaulay's slashing and enter- taining essay on Croker's edition of Boswell's "Johnson" you will surely feel the impulse to tackle that great and boundlessly entertaining biography in earnest. A great many people have not read it because they are shy of buying long books and regard the reading of them a solemn and rather tremendous business. They regard large books as they do formidable persons. But break the ice. And try this kind of chain reading. There is much to be said for reading good books about books, I mean those which convey the flavour of fine literature. There have been many such tasters and recommenders. Charles Lamb, Wil- liam Hazlitt, Walter Bagehot, Ruskin, Edward Fitzgerald (in his letters) and Robert Louis Ste- venson — to name a few at random — were such, and so, also, very notably to-day, is Mr. Augustine Birrell. [45] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER It may seem a revolutionary statement, but the truth is that, with the exception of specialists, very few people read old books, and very few old books are worth reading, if the reader's opportunities are limited. As a clever person remarked the other day, "Few books have the eternal verities of matter and style." If the ordinary man wishes to read, say, philosophy, he had better get a modern book that will describe the teachings of Hobbes, Locke, Kant, Hume, etc. If he tries to read the originals he will be bored, and will probably fail to grasp the portions of the theories of the various authors which have become incorporated in the mesh of philo- sophic thought. It is curious to note the attitudes of different men towards books. When I was young I came into touch with two old lawyers' clerks — both great Shakespeareans. I think they had read nothing else, except a book on costs and Day's "Common Law Procedure Acts." They could quote against each other by the hour. I thought I would take part in the proceedings, but soon found that verbal memorising was not in my line. However, I took to reading Shakespeare pretty closely, and with the aid of Dr. Johnson was able to point out certain things in connexion with their favourite plays which my old friends had never thought of. I made the interesting discovery that, being lawyers' clerks, they fully appreciated the themes of King Lear, Macbeth, and Othello, etc., but they never resolved [46] HOW TO READ the plays into terms of actual existence. They were just plays and nothing else. Love, ingratitude, jealousy, craftiness, ambition, and murder were the ordinary everyday things of life. Shakespeare had made them interesting, but it never occurred to my two old friends that the plays pointed any lessons or that principles gained from books could be ap- plied to the conduct of life. Their lives were shaped entirely on instinct and experience. They took no notice of books, but were strong on certain maxims they had heard enunciated by their fathers, barris- ters, and others with whom they had come in con- tact : terse sentences pregnant with worldly wisdom — "Once a rascal, always a rascal," and so on. I have often thought since that the majority of people conduct their lives on the same plan. Some time afterwards I met a clever man who was a keen biologist, philosopher, and political economist. He introduced me to Darwin's "Origin of Species," "The Descent of Man," Mill's "Political Econ- omy," and several books of Herbert Spencer's. He was the antithesis of the lawyers' clerks. His life was compounded of theories. He was always try- ing to apply the rules laid down by his heroes to commonplace events of life. If he discharged his office boy he would make sage remarks about the survival of the fittest, the transfer of labour to more suitable occupations, and the reversion to type. I cannot say that he was very successful. In short, he was a crank. [47] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER Concerning poetry, it must be confessed that most English people arc not fond of verse. They regard tin- reading of it as waste of time, in which respect they differ from the Scottish and Welsh. It is best to begin with something simple— -even the "Ingoldsby Legends," or with a good anthology of English verse, containing the star turns, from which you can make your own selection, or with a poem full of lilt and rhythm, but which tells a dra- matic story, such as Tennyson's "Revenge." Sir Walter Raleigh points out, in his life of the poet, that present-day ideas of heaven and hell are based on "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Re- gained." You might ascertain whether you agree with him. Poetrj r is like Opera. At the first go-off the mind is intent on the unfolding of the story and in endeavouring to ascertain the author's mean- ing. On further acquaintance the hearer, being no longer distracted by these considerations, devotes himself to the real purpose of the entertainment — namely, the enjoyment of the music, which he learns to appreciate for its own sake, irrespective of the drama. The same thing applies to poetry. When the story or meaning has been gathered, the reader is free to devote himself to enjoying the method of expression. Poetry is the language of the emotions. A few lines of verse are more suited to the requirements of the lover, or a man in trouble, than volumes of prose. [48] HOW TO READ Some time ago "John o' London" asked me to contribute to a symposium concerning a few books best calculated to form the character of a young man of twenty-one. I thought of suggesting the first chapters of Anson on "Contracts" and Pollock on "Torts" (Wrongs), the first sixty-three pages of Best on "Evidence," Shakespeare, and an an- thology of English verse. You will probably say "A strange mixture!" You might say the same thing of life. A man who had read and grasped these books would know : 1. How to judge evidence. 2. His rights and responsibilities in relation to his fellow-citizens. 3. From Shakespeare he would learn a knowl- edge of the world and human nature, and, in a sense, history, and would develop his sense of honour. 4. The poets would tell him how to enjoy his life, how to admire nature and how to bear his troubles. Many well-known and successful men contrib- uted to this symposium, and their selections of books which in their experience tend to build up mind and character were very interesting and often curious. In some instances the choice was highly personal, and not such as one would expect, but this only added to the value of the list. Here are a number of typical selections : [49] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER Emerson's Essays. Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus," "Heroes and Hero- Worship, " and "Past and Present." Boswell's "Life of Johnson." Wordsworth's Works. The Dialogues of Plato (in Jowett's transla- tion). Marcus Aurelius. Maeterlinck's "Buried Temple." Trevelyan's "Life of Macaulay." Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott." J. S. Mill's "Liberty." Spencer's "Data of Ethics." Browning's "The Ring and the Book." Voltaire's "Candide." Smiles's "Self-Help." Shakespeare. Thucydides. Charnwood's "Life of Lincoln." Ruskin's "Sesame and Lilies," "Crown of Wild Olive," and "Unto this Last." Lessing's "Laocoon." Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico." Mrs. Steele's "India throughout the Ages." Lew Wallace's "Ben Hur." Devas's "Key to the World." Cobbett's "Protestant Reformation." Sir Thomas Browne's "Religio Medici." Matthew Arnold's "Essays in Criticism" and "Literature and Dogma." [50] HOW TO READ Darwin's "Descent of Man." Sir Robert Ball's "Story of the Heavens." Wells's "Outline of History." Sir E. Ray Lankester's "Science from an Easy Chair," "Diversions of a Naturalist" and "The Kingdom of Man." Browning's Poems. Sophocles' Tragedies. John Morley's "Compromise." Dean Inge's "Outspoken Essays." _ Such a list could be greatly extended. The art of rapid reading is valuable. Few people possess it. But it is useless to read rapidly if you do not follow or cannot remember what you read. The act of quick reading can be acquired by prac- tice^ Accountants are quick at reading balance- sheets; lawyers, briefs; sub-editors, the horrible flimsy "copy" which the ordinary individual can hardly read at all. In other words, "practice makes perfect." The brain is a wonderful organiser. When a child learns to read, the mind takes charge of the operation, and puzzles away over A, B, C, etc. But gradually as the little student progresses, the task is handed over to the automatic department in the brain, thus relieving the mind of routine work. The same happens, more or less, in regard to apprehending the contents of written or printed matter. Concentration is necessary for quick and instructive reading. Note the avidity with which [51] J SOME THINGS THAT MATTER the merchant reads his morning's letters. Nothing escapes him. Then note the change when he reads a book on a subject in which he is but little in- terested. [52] IV: THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING IV THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING His words like so many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at command. John Milton The art of public speaking may be divided into two parts — what to say, and how to say it. A good delivery covers many defects, but no one can hope to become a first-class speaker unless he has something to say that is worth saying. To pro- duce a good speech the speaker must have knowl- edge, experience, and imagination. If he has humour, so much the better. He must have also a sense of proportion and suitability. After-dinner and social speaking is one thing; serious platform speaking another ; speaking before a deliberative assembly a third; lecturing and preaching a fourth; advocacy a fifth; and finally there is addressing company meetings and trade gatherings. Each type of speaking demands dif- ferent qualifications and different methods of prep- aration. A slight occasion such as an after-dinner speech is unsuitable for heavy preparation, and while an after-dinner speaker should go prepared, he should endeavour to adjust himself to the at- [55] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER mosphere of the gathering. For a serious occasion a speech should be carefully thought out before- hand. Most of the great speakers spend much time and trouble in preparing their speeches. Some dic- tate or write them out in full. Then heads for guidance when speaking are carefully prepared. These are usually written on cards or stiff half- sheets of paper, carefully tied together to prevent their escape in the course of the speech. Important passages and the peroration are usually written out fully in the notes. No absolute rules about preparation can be laid down; so much depends on temperament. John Bright brooded long and painfully over a speech he was about to deliver, but the only part he actually wrote out was his peroration. For he understood the enormous value of that spontaneous under- standing which arises between an audience and a good speaker — an exchange of inspiration on the spot. Therefore he prepared only notes for the body of his speech. But he understood also the immense importance of a clean and effective end- ing. Mr. T. P. O'Connor, one of the best judges of oratory I know, describes this care for the end as a wise precaution. He says: "You may remark in Shakespeare that he often gives a couple of rhymed lines to the actor when he has to leave the stage. That leaving the stage with effectiveness is one of the most difficult things in the world to accomplish; it is like a man trying to get out of a [50] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING drawing-room. Similarly the fitting and dignified conclusion of a speech is one of the difficulties of oratory. How often have I heard a man making half a dozen perorations before he found the right one on which he could wind up, as he thought, with grace." The art of sitting down at the right mo- ment applies to every kind of speaking, and, not least, to mere after-dinner speaking. A man who is uncertain of himself would be wise to arrange with his neighbour at a banquet to pull him down violently at the right moment and to leave that moment to his discretion. Speaking is a knack which comes from constant practice, and while the accomplished speaker frequently prepares set speeches, he has the art of thinking on his legs, and, when necessary, can make a creditable performance on the spur of the moment. This introduces that very important element in good speaking — fluency, which does not necessarily mean rapid speaking. It means a command of words equal to the flow of thought. How fluency can be attained is a hard question. The elder and the younger Pitt thought they knew the best way, and many other great orators have adopted their recipe. It is, no doubt, a difficult one, but its effectiveness can hardly be disputed. It is to take a book in any foreign lan- guage which you know fairly well, and make free translations from its pages. The book gives you a train of thought; it is yours to supply equivalent English words in elegance and order. Lord Stan- [57] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER hope, Pitt's biographer, thus describes the method: "No man had that gift of using in public speaking the right word in the right place; no man carried that gift to a higher degree of perfection, as all parties have owned, than Mr. Pitt. Now my father . . . ventured on one occasion to ask Mr. Pitt by what means — by what course of study — he had acquired that readiness of speech — that aptness of finding the right word. Mr. Pitt replied that what- ever readiness he might be thought to possess in that respect he believed he derived very much from a practice his father, the great Lord Chatham, had enjoined on him. Lord Chatham had bid him take up any book in some foreign language with which he was well acquainted — in Latin, Greek, or French for example. He then enjoined him to read out of this work a passage in English, stopping where he was not sure of the word until the right one came, and then proceed. Mr. Pitt states that he had assiduously followed this practice. At first he had often to stop for a while before he could find the proper word; but he found the difficulties gradually disappear, until what was a toil to him at first be- came at last an easy and familiar task." Archbishop Magee gave the same advice more briefly, but did not insist on a foreign language. The exercise he prescribed was rapid paraphrase. "Take a passage from some well-known classic author, and render the passage into equivalent words, so as to express the same idea. Thus you [58] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING will acquire the power of choosing, of substituting one word for another." Contrasting the verbal methods of Pitt and Fox, Richard Porson said: "Pitt carefully considered his sentences before he uttered them; Fox threw himself into the middle of his, and left it to God Almighty to get him out again." Mr. Lloyd George carefully prepares his set speeches, the heads of the arguments being set down in detail on half -sheets of stiff paper and important phrases being written out in full. Mr. Winston Churchill adopts a different practice. He dictates his set speeches in their entirety. Sir Arthur Bal- four usually makes a few notes on the back of a large envelope, but often speaks without notes and prepares his arguments while on his legs. Mr. Bonar Law plans his speeches in his head, and never uses notes. Lord Birkenhead more or less adopts the Balfourian method. A friend of mine told John Bright that he had heard him deliver what my friend thought was his best speech. John Bright smiled and said, "I sup- pose you refer to the Angel of death." "No," said my friend, "it was the speech you delivered on the Burial Bill." John Bright's eyes lit up and he replied, "You are quite right, but that is not the general opinion. I rehearsed the speech for three days before I delivered it. But," he remarked thoughtfully, "the unpremeditated part was the best. I commenced by saying 'I am glad that the [59] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER chief opposition to this Bill has come from the University of Oxford; that ancient seat of learning and — after a pause — undying prejudice.' There are occasions on which it is necessary to lead up to a subject, but sometimes one can capture one's audience immediately by a phrase." He added, smilingly, "I was successful in doing so on that occasion." Parliamentary debaters have this gift of rapid thought and speech highly developed — the power of rapidly seizing upon and emphasising the weak points in opponents' arguments, and of enforcing the strong points in their own case. Cobden never made notes for his speeches, and prided himself on being able to think and speak in the presence of an audience as if he were writing in his library, but he said that his constant and overruling thought, which long experience of the arts of controversialists had impressed on Ins mind, was to avoid the possibility of being misrepresented, and to prevent his oppo- nents from raising a false issue. Those who are learning to speak should bear this in mind. They should state their meaning as clearly as possible, both from the point of view of argument and the selection of words. As we all know, there are occasions on which speakers are anxious to avoid saying exactly what they mean, and to endeavour to leave a loop-hole open for the construction which suits them best when the occasion arises. Arts of this sort are to be [60] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING deplored, and happily the conjurer with words, who can make successful use of them, is rare. The clumsy, inexperienced speaker is usually hoist with his own petard. His audience see through the de- vice, and when later on he endeavours to avail him- self of his subtle phraseology he finds that his loop-hole was badly chosen, and leads to conviction instead of acquittal. There are four sorts of speeches : 1. Those which impress the audience, and also the public when read ; 2. Those which impress the audience, but read indifferently; 3. Those which do not impress the audience, but which read well ; and 4. Those which impress no one. In the third class no one was more conspicuous than Edmund Burke. His speeches read magnifi- cently, but in the House of Commons he was nick- named "The Dinner Bell." Sheridan said of him, "When posterity read the speeches of Burke they will hardly be able to believe that, during his life- time, he was not considered as a first-rate speaker, not even as a second-rate one." Lincoln's "Gettysburg" speech is one of the most famous orations in the Anglo-Saxon language, and yet we are told that when delivered it made but little impression and was completely over-shadowed by the speech of a "spellbinder." It may be asked, "In what respect do speeches [61] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER differ from a pamphlet or magazine article?" There is an essential difference. Speech has a human element lacking in the written word, hecause speech is communication between the speaker and his audience face to face. This fact should be ever present to the speaker's mind both when preparing and delivering the speech. People addressed each other by word of mouth long before they wrote. Speech, therefore, is more primitive and human than written matter. Public speaking not only ad- mits but demands characteristics which would be blemishes in compositions intended to be read. The attention of the audience must be held, arguments repeated, and free use made of analogies and illus- trations. For this reason good speakers are often bad writers, while good writers are rarely effective speakers. Au fond, a speech is a transitory, evanescent, episodic production, depending for its immediate effect not only upon the matter but upon the delivery which enables the great speaker to sway his hearers. From their point of view person- ality is the thing that counts for most. In written compositions it stands for little or nothing. The quality of the written word is the only thing that matters. The author may be repulsive, but he is invisible. He looks at you only through the printed page. The speaker is judged by what he is or what he appears to be. No man can achieve wide dis- tinction as a speaker unless he can impress an audi- ence face to face. That is the acid test of oratory, [62] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING high or low. That is how the speaker makes his reputation. Every speaker should endeavour to cultivate a good style. He should take care to form his sen- tences properly — long, tortuous periods should be rigidly avoided. It takes a great orator like Mr. Gladstone to carry through successfully to the end lengthy, involved passages. It must be remem- bered that style is a question of personality. The mind acquires its most lasting impressions slowly and almost unconsciously. Well-formed sentences and clear expression become a habit, while on the other hand "Evil communications corrupt good manners" and good speeches. The tongue uncon- sciously adopts the style continually presented to it by the eye or the ear. Many speakers take con- siderable trouble to maintain their style and keep up their vocabulary. I know one excellent speaker who, for this purpose, reads two chapters of the Bible every night. I regarded him as a devout per- son until I discovered his reason. I have heard of others who take exercises in the speeches of Mr. Joseph Chamberlain and Mr. Lloyd George. In order to speak well you must know your sub- ject. Some speakers acquire their information from books, others from experience, and others, the best, from both. It is useless to endeavour to explain how would-be speakers should acquire powder and shot for their speeches. Any such explanation would involve a discussion of the whole question of [63] SOMK THINGS THAT MATTER education. In short, if a speaker has got very little in his head, he can gel very little oul of it. But, when we come to method, speaking lias a literature and a tradition all its own. Many of the acutest minds have addressed themselves to ascer- tain the best method of presenting a case so as to capture the public to which it is desired t< i appeal. They have studied how to deal with good and had cases — how to holster up the latter — how to destroy the former—how to draw the red herring across their opponent's path, and how to persuade the audience to accept fallacies. Many people who know nothing about rhetoric are full of rhetorical tricks. They know by instinct what to say, what not to say, what to accentuate, when to attack, when to defend, and when to counter-attack. Rhetoric is a sort of logic adapted for public speaking. A dissertation upon this subject does not come within the scope of the present chapter, but I will endeavour to state briefly a few points of general interest. Before doing so, it is perhaps important to ob- serve that, apart from elocution, a knowledge of grammar and pronunciation is essential for any person who speaks in public — that is to say, he must speak grammatically, whether he understands grammatical rules or not, and must pronounce his words correctly. It is surprising how many clever men who have made their way in the world make [64] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING terrible errors of this sort. Many a fine phrase has been spoiled by an "h" too much or an "h" too little. The strange thing is that many of the offenders do not know that they drop or insert "h's." Cicero says that the business of logic is to judge of arguments, not to invent them. Some other authority adds that the art of inventing and arrang- ing arguments is the only true province of rhetoric. Some one says that arguments unpolished by rhetoric are like a diamond, which is of small use until it is cut and polished, when its angles send forth flashes of light which arrest and delight every eye. Needless to say, a skilled diamond-cutter is essential, otherwise the stone is spoiled. Now, in military operations, as the war has shown once more, the arrangement and disposition of the troops are of the greatest consequence. The genius of Foch made all the difference. In speak- ing the same applies. Much depends on the ar- rangement of a speech, if the object is to convince, to persuade, or to refute objections. It may be argued that devices of this sort are, or should be, unnecessary in order to establish the truth of vital matters. There may be much to be said for that contention. My only object is to describe, briefly, the plans recommended and used by countless gen- erations of rhetoricians, and which are still in vogue amongst politicians, lawyers, lecturers, preachers, demagogues, and other speakers, as you may easily note if you examine their speeches. [65] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER Mr. Bernard Shaw says somewhere that Christ is the greatest of political economists. It might be said with equal truth and without irreverence that He is the greatest of rhetoricians, using the word in the sense above indicated. When the Scribes and Pharisees brought to Him the woman taken in adul- tery, He confounded them by saying: "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." How much more effective than to say, as an ordinary man would have done, "Begone! You know that you are all sinners and hypocrites!" Or take the parable of the lilies, bearing in mind that the Lord was addressing the common people: "Consider the lilies how they grow; they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in the field and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?" Note the wonderful skill of these few lines. First the speaker calms and exalts the minds of His hearers by a poetic description which conjures up a beautiful picture. Then He covertly enforces His favourite doctrine that mankind should not be un- duly "careful and troubled about many things." The lilies toil not, neither do they spin, and yet they are better clothed than the great ones of the earth with all their wealth and power. Then suddenly He changes the description and reduces the lilies to the rank of grass (but, be it noted, better clothed [60] THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING than King Solomon), and concludes by pointing out that if the Almighty takes so much care of the grass which to-day is and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more will He look after the com- mon people. All the utterances of Jesus Christ may well be studied from the oratorical point of view. And St. Paul's short address on Mars Hill in Athens is a marvel of oratorical tact and force. [67] V: MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt. — Epistle to the Colossians I return to the consideration of the art — or arts — of public speaking. The refutation of contrary opinions often gives scope for rhetorical tricks. It is a frequent but dis- honest practice to make a brief reference at the beginning of a speech to awkward objections, and to promise to deal with them later on. The speaker then proceeds to develop his own case so as to engage the attention of his audience, and conven- iently overlooks any detailed performance of his undertaking. You may imagine that no intelligent person would be led away by such a well-known and shallow device. But you are mistaken. The pre- liminary reference and promise quieten the minds of the audience for the time being, and a powerful statement of the speaker's case, although no real answer to the objections, leads them to accept his view and to pay no further regard to the contrary opinion. A conjurer's audience knows that he will attempt to divert their attention when producing [71] SOME TIIIXGS THAT MATTER the rabbit, but it allows itself to be deceived never- theless. Note that in unskilful hands such a rhetorical method is dangerous. It may be re- marked, however, that many people who know noth- ing of rhetoric are naturally skilful in disposing of arguments in this way — particularly women. Most people mislead in conversation and public speech, by omitting the one fact more. An economy of truth is more common than a profusion of lies. Generally speaking, when stating a case, the speaker should begin by setting forth the proposi- tion he wishes to advance, and then follow with his arguments; but there is no rule. The speaker must decide for himself in each case. Supposing that a local authority is discussing improved transport facilities, and a member wishes to advocate motor omnibuses in preference to tramways, he can adopt one of two plans. He can begin by declaring his opinion and then give his reasons, or he can com- mence his remarks by pointing out the disadvan- tages of tramways, then proceed to indicate the advantages of motor omnibuses, and then declare his opinion. The latter method has the merit of disarming the antagonism which often results when a speaker states an opinion before preparing the minds of his hearers by stating the argument on which it is based. Sometimes it is well to state and answer the arguments which may be made against the proposal advocated by the speaker. One great art in speaking is to pick out the essential points [72] MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS and to disregard the rest. And it must be remem- bered that the obvious argument is the one that is most likely to tell. Most people do not like subtle or fantastic reasons. Another important rule is to keep to the point to which you are addressing yourself. Avoid excur- sions into other subjects or into other branches of the inquiry. Here it may be remarked that prac- tised speakers sometimes make such interpolations, either to relieve the mind of the audience or to divert their attention from the weakness of the argument. Nothing is more calculated to display such a defect than a consecutive statement. To give a very bald instance : if I set out to prove that black is white, it may be more easy to accomplish the task if in the course of the argument I divert the attention of the audience by referring to the extravagance of the Government in using white instead of black paint. A speaker should be as brief as possible in his re- marks. La Rochefoucauld says that true eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary and nothing but what is necessary. Bear in mind, however, that in most cases repetition is essential. The ordinary man does not care for tabloid arguments. He likes to ruminate. To make him think with you it is necessary to be easy and pleasing. Blaise Pascal, one of the most eloquent men who ever lived, has these wise words : "Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a manner — first, that those to whom they are addressed can understand them without [73] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER trouble and with pleasure; and secondly, that they may he interested in them in such a way that their amour propre may lead them gladly to reflect upon them. ... It must confine itself, as far as possible, to the simplicity of nature, and not make great what is small, nor small what is great. It is not enough that a thing be fine, it must be fitting, neither in excess nor defect. . . . Eloquence should prevail by gentle suasion, not by constraint. It should reign, not tyrannise." The clever speaker thoroughly understands the art of repetition. He knows how to repeat his argument in different terms so as not to bore his audience. In this connexion it may be pointed out that for the immediate purpose the most effective speeches are not always those which are best in form. At the Bar, for example, many successful advocates have been diffuse, and their speeches when read verbatim have been unattractive. On the other hand, some legal speeches are models of style and form. Sir Harry Poland, when at the Bar, was famous for his consecutive statements. One could see the rope coiling round the criminal's neck as he proceeded. The great Lord Erskine understood the value of the leading and oft-repeated idea, or refrain. "In every case," says Roscoe, "he pro- posed a great leading principle to which all his efforts were referable and subsidiary — which ran through the whole of his address, arranging, gov- erning, and elucidating every portion. [74] MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS The mind does not readily grasp generalities, and men's passions and sympathies are not usually aroused by stating a bare fact. The outstanding incidents must be related. Hence the phrase, "har- rowing details." But on some occasions a pregnant sentence is more powerful than a detailed story. It all depends on the occasion and the sentence. The coining of phrases is a gift, but under the stress of emotion quite ordinary people sometimes exhibit remarkable powers in that direction. An oblique statement is often more effective than a direct one. Shakespeare thoroughly appreciated the arts of rhetoric. Even a schoolboy understands and ad- mires the skill with which Marc Antony stirs up the feelings of the Romans ; the crafty way in which he approaches the subject; his studied moderation at the commencement (a common rhetorical trick) ; the way in which, apparently against his will, his passions are gradually inflamed as he works up his denunciation of the assassins. And yet we all know that had we been there, with full knowledge of the arts of demagogues, we should have shared in the applause and joined in the hunt for Brutus, Cassius, Casca, and company. Invective, satire, humour, metaphor, etc., are oratorical weapons that demand careful study, but do not try to run before you can walk. Eloquence, like poetry, is a gift. Proceed cautiously when making new excursions. First perfect yourself as [75] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER a ruler of hundreds, and you can then promote yourself to be a ruler of thousands. To be a success the speaker must hold the atten- tion of his audience. The skilful use of the element of surprise is an important factor. Dr. Johnson says that the first purpose of a writer should be to excite restless and unquenchable curiosity, so as to compel the reader to continue to the end. Also a good maxim for a speaker! But even the ablest often admit failure in this respect. The most effec- tive surprise is a happy blend of the old with the new — the building of a new idea on an old founda- tion, or the dressing of an old truth in a new gar- ment. Disraeli was a master of the art — one reason why his speeches are such good reading. His point of view was vivacious and unexpected, and he ex- pressed himself in brilliant epigrams. I think it was he who said that satire and invective were the ornaments of debate. Ornamentation, however, re- quires a skilful artist. His attack on Peel in March, 1845, is not only a fine specimen of invective, but an example of how to excite the curiosity of the audi- ence. This is the speech which contains the famous passage : "He [Peel] never refers to any author who is not great — Canning, for example. That is a name never to be mentioned, I am sure, in the House of Commons without emotion. We all admire his genius. We all deplore his untimely end; and we [70] MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS all sympathise with him in his fierce struggle with supreme prejudice and sublime mediocrity — with inveterate foes and with candid friends. The right honourable gentleman may be sure that a quotation from such an authority will always tell. Some lines, for example, upon friendship, written by Mr. Can- ning, and quoted by the right honourable gentle- man! The theme, the poet, the speaker — what a felicitous combination!" In commenting upon this speech, Mr. Mony- penny says : "We have first the low-level speaking in no way remarkable that makes the preparation; the grad- ual development of the theme of Peel's disregard of party. Then, when the House has been wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, the sudden descent by the speaker, who is alone grave and unmoved, to the low level again; the feigned humility of his readi- ness to bow to the rod, and the seeming compliment to Peel's mastery of quotation; Peel nervous and expectant, the House still puzzled; the stealthy approach to the position from which the spring is to be made; the name which is the key-word dropped as if by accident — 'Canning, for example'; Peel visibly uncomfortable; the House beginning to be excited; the drawling allusion to Canning's fierce struggle with 'sublime mediocrity' — perhaps aimed at Peel, though all are still doubtful — and 'with candid — friends' — when the pause, the inflection of the speaker's voice, and the direction of his glance, [77] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER convert doubt into certainty; and then the culmi- nating blow, 'some lines upon friendship written by- Mr. Canning, and quoted by the right honourable gentleman'; and. where a lesser artist would have spoiled all by sonic crudity of comment, only the restrained, but mordant, words: 'The theme, the poet, the speaker — what a felicitous combination!' It remains to say a few words regarding elocu- tion. Speaking is not like public reading or acting. "There is as much eloqui nee in the tone of voice, in the eyes, and in the air of a speaker, as in his choice of words." He himself is the character on the stage. He is expressing his own thoughts in words selected by himself, and if he wishes to hold the attention of his audience, he must make them feel that he is addressing them in his own fashion. He must think of what he is saying and endeavour to suit the action to the word in his own style, whatever it may be. If he tries to adopt some one else's style he will probably be a failure. In short, he must be natural, but must avoid awkward, ungraceful tricks. An amusing example of ungainliness, and the penalty it brought on a speaker, is recorded by Francis E. Leupp in his "Humours of Congress," as follows: "Probably the shortest speech ever delivered in Congress was made by 'Ben' Butler of Massachu- setts. An Ohio member had fallen afoul of him one day, and poured upon him a torrent of abuse which would have excited general indignation, but for an unconsciously ridiculous gesture with which the [78] MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS orator accompanied almost every alternate sen- tence ; this tempered the disgust of his hearers with mirth. He would raise his arms just as high above his head as possible, and then wring his hands as if he were making a delirious attempt to wring them off. Butler sat through the speech with his eyes half closed, not moving a muscle. He rose when his assailant finished, and stood calmly in the aisle. After perhaps a minute of silence, he began: 'Mr. Speaker!' Another impressive pause, and expect- ancy reached nearly the bursting-point. Suddenly raising his arms, Butler reproduced exactly the awful gesture of the Ohio congressman. Then his arms fell to his sides, and for another minute he stood silent. " 'That is all, Mr. Speaker,' he said, finally, and sat down, 'I just wanted to answer the gentleman from Ohio.' " A speaker must be careful to enunciate clearly and to suit his voice to the size of the audience. Yet he must be careful not to think of himself, his de- livery, or his voice, but of what he is saying. It is a good plan, when you begin, to look at the members of the audience farthest away. That leads you in a natural manner to pitch your voice in the right degree. When advising a young actor Sir Henry Irving remarked : "Imagine that in the theatre you have a pal in the back of the pit or gallery. Let him hear every line you have to say. It will make you speak distinctly and correctly." If you speak in- [79] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER distinctly it is a good plan t<> t.'ikx' lessons, not in elocution but in voice production. Most speakers find their hands an encumbrance. They do not know what to do with them. Some grasp the lapels of their coat, some rest the tips of their fingers on the table, some toy with their eyeglasses. Actors often have the same difficulty. Henry Lytton in his "Secrets of a Savoyard" tells how he mentioned this matter to Sir W. S. Gilbert, who at once re- plied: "Cut them off at the wrists, and forget you've got any hands." First-rate advice, however difficult to follow. The problem of what to do with the hands is one of the chief causes of nervousness when speaking in public. That is why speakers who are accustomed to speak at a table or desk often fail to do them- selves justice when called upon to speak upon an open platform or from benches such as those in the House of Commons. The real orator never remains long in the same position. He continually suits the action to the word in a natural way suitable to his own personality. For most speakers restrained freedom should be the watchword. Cramped, nervous gestures are not attractive, while on the other hand violent declaration is beyond the scope of the ordinary man. To be effective it must be very well done. To sum up : (1 ) If possible, prepare what you have to say. [80] MAXIMS FOR SPEAKERS (2) Suit the speech to the occasion, both as to length and matter. (3 ) Be natural. Do not think of yourself, but of what you are saying. Do not strive after effect. (4) Begin with deliberation and speak dis- tinctly, suiting your voice to the size of the audience. Do not forget the advantage of the pause to enforce important points. (5) Remember that in speaking, as in other things, a direct mind and a clear objective are in- valuable assets. Do not be drawn away by small points, and do not pay too much attention to finesse. [81] VI: THE USE OF THE DICTIONARY VI THE USE OF THE DICTIONARY With all thy seeking, wisdom seek. To learn well when and what to speak; And let thy words be few and sound, For life and death in words are found. — Old Maxim. At a Washington dinner party my attention was forcibly directed to the difficulty of defining words in common use at short notice without the aid of a dictionary. One of the party, which consisted of journalists, offered to make a small bet with each of the other persons present that he could not within three minutes and without reference to a dictionary write down a definition of the word "time." Most of us took the bet and we all lost it. Try the experi- ment without reflection. St. Augustine said of time, "What is it? If unasked I know, if you ask me I know not." The truth is that the haphazard definition of words is no easy matter. Indeed, even after mature consideration most of us would find it difficult to define many of the words we are using every day, to say nothing of those with which we have merely a nodding acquaintance. Recently I noticed that [85] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER Mr. W. J. Locke, in his admirable novel 'The Mountebank," had launched out into biological phraseology, having used the words "atavism" and "parthenogenesis." As a matter of curiosity I asked several people who had read the book what these words meant. I found that none of them could give me any coherent explanation. Indeed, two of them had not even noticed the words. The inquiring mind in such matters is comparatively rare. Most people use a dictionary chiefly for the purpose of checking their spelling. They seldom consult it in order to ascertain the meaning of words. Thev think that thev understand the mean- ing of those they use themselves, and don't trouble to inquire about the meanings of words used by other people which they do not happen to under- stand. Reasoning depends upon the use of names or marks, and unless we adequately comprehend their definite meanings we cannot hope to reason accu- rately. It would of course be possible to reason about things without naming them, but this would be a clumsy method. We should rob ourselves of the classifications and enumerations made by man- kind as a whole, and should have no means of identi- fying our own thoughts. Suppose that every time I had occasion to think of an object I had con- sciously to reassemble all my ideas concerning it, what a burden life would be! The use of a name or [86] THE USE OF THE DICTIONARY mark brings them all back in a flash. As Professor Bain says: "Thoughts of themselves are perpet- ually slipping out of the field of immediate mental vision, but the name abides with us and the utter- ance of it restores them in a moment. Without any formal instruction the language in which we grow up teaches us all the common philosophy of the age. It supplies us with classifications ready made." For example, suppose I want to draw a distinc- tion between a room and a cupboard; I might achieve my purpose by showing examples of each and explaining their respective uses and character- istics, but I can save myself the trouble by adopting the ordinary definitions. This, however, implies that I and the person with whom I am discussing rooms and cupboards both understand the mean- ings of the terms, and construe them in the same way. Hence the value of the dictionary which defines the meaning of words, names, or marks as accepted by mankind. Serious doubts often occur as to technical terms. Probably little short of £100,000 has been spent in law costs with the object of deciding what consti- tutes a drain and what a sewer, and even now I am told the matter is not free from doubt. In ordinary life it is always well to think of words and to use them in their dictionary sense. This practice leads to continuity of thought and avoids misunderstand- ings. But it must be remembered that words some- [87] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER times possess special meanings for certain purposes. Many Acts of Parliament contain what is known as a definition clause, which provides that for the purposes of the Act certain words shall be con- strued in a certain sense. Metaphysicians have had prolonged arguments on the subtle question whether words are the names of things themselves or of our ideas of things, but for practical purposes the point is of small impor- tance. It is, however, well to note that while some names imply the existence of things, others merely signify an idea. Take, for example, the words horse and centaur respectively. The former indicates a real animal with all its attributes, whatever they are in fact, while the latter refers to an imaginary crea- ture whose imaginary qualities depend upon the definition of its name. Crudely put, the name is the animal. The more precise you want to be the more words you must know, so as to be able to indicate more varieties of the same object with greater precision. But apart from the regions of science a person with a comparatively small vocabulary, who thoroughly understands the signification of the words he uses, and who knows how to use them, is more effective than a person with a larger choice of words, many of which he does not fully appreciate, and whose style is ponderous or involved. It must be borne in mind that there are diction- aries and dictionaries. In order to understand the [88] THE USE OF THE DICTIONARY meaning of many words a somewhat elaborate dic- tionary is necessary. Numerous words possess various meanings, and the meanings of words fre- quently change from time to time. To gather dif- ferent shades of meaning it is often necessary to have recourse to an extensive dictionary, such as the monumental and still not quite completed "New English Dictionary," which can be seen in the larger public libraries. With its wealth of quotations it is itself a library. If you examine any page you will be struck by these facts: (1) The extraordinary flexibility and diversity of a large number of words ; (2) the extraordinary way in which the meanings of words have been varied by time; and (3) the paucity of the ordinary man's vocabulary. Some time ago President Wilson caused a sensa- tion by the sense in which he used the word per- adventure, and later President Harding threw a small etymological bombshell by using the word "normalcy." Many Americans still think he coined it, but you will find it in "Webster." Clarity of speech has its advantages, but the occasional use of a little-known or inadequately-appreciated word seems to be a useful method of attracting attention to the utterances of the great. No house, hotel, or ship should be without a good dictionary, but not necessarily a ponderous one. It is an indispensable book. The possession of a dic- tionary is not, however, sufficient. You must use it. It is a good plan to look up every word you see or [89] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER hear, the meaning <>f which you do not understand. If you resolutely follow this practice you will in- crease your knowledge by leaps and bounds. But it is only right to point out that sometimes diction- ary definitions are not illuminating. For example, the definition of "horse" given in Webster's great and invaluable New International Dictionary of the English Language which has recently been brought up to date, is as follows: "A large perisso- dactyl ungulate animal domesticated by man since a prehistoric period and used as a beast of burden, or draft animal, or for riding; by extension, any kind of allied extinct species." This kind of defini- tion used to excite satire, and Dr. Johnson was one of its victims. But his defence was easy and cogent. He pointed out that, while it was desirable to ex- plain a word in terms less abstruse than itself, this is often impossible. To define "horse" satisfactorily you would have to use words too plain to admit of a definition, and such words cannot be found. This difficulty explains his famous definition of net- work; "anything reticulated or decussated with interstices between the intersections." Another and more amusing example of the difficulty of defining the simplest words is the classic story of Plato's definition of man as a two-legged creature without feathers. Diogenes plucked a cock and brought it into the Academy saying, "This is Plato's man." [90] VII: THE FLY-WHEEL OF CIVILISA- TION: IMPORTANCE OF HABIT VII THE FLY-WHEEL OF CIVILISATION: IMPORTANCE OF HABIT All habits gather by unseen degrees, As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas. To prove the force of habit, William James tells a story of a well-trained soldier who was walking across the barrack square with, I think, a pot of beer in his hand, when the sergeant as a joke called out "Attention!" The soldier dropped the beer and obeyed the word of command. This hardly seems credible. Nevertheless, the extent to which habit rules the world is not appreciated. It is true that from time immemorial the force of habit has been recognised and enshrined in popular proverbs, but, as with other well-known truths, familiarity breeds indifference. Few people take the trouble to examine the details and to ascertain the extent to which habit affects their daily lives. It affects them of course both for good and evil. Habit, as such, is neither good nor bad. It may be a strength or it may be a weakness. "Habit is the nursery of errors," says Victor Hugo, but it is just as true to say, with Hazlitt, that "habit is necessary to give power"; and Bacon joins both views in a single [93] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER sentence: "Habit, if wisely and skilfully formed, becomes truly a second nature, as the common say- ing is; hut unskilfully and unmethodically directed it will he, as it were, the ape of Nature, which imi- tates nothing to the life, hut only clumsily and awkwardly." There are many sorts of habit. The automatic kind, such as the way we walk, the way we talk, the way we hold ourselves, the way we speak, the way we smile or scowl, the way we eat our food, etc. These are partly hereditary and partly acquired by imitation, as in the case of dialects. But we know that most habits of this class can be formed or changed by education. During the war we saw slouching, ungainly men of thirty turned by the drill-sergeant into smart soldiers. It has become a truism to say that children should not be allowed to contract bad types of automatic habits. The substitution of a good for a bad habit involves not only loss of time in life but added nervous strain. The second class may be described as partly auto- matic. For example, writing, the dexterity of the carpenter or mechanic, or the remarkable power acquired by microscopists, referred to by Herbert Spencer: "To move the object under the miscro- scope to the right, the fingers must move to the left, and to move it up they must move down." A more homely example is the dexterity acquired by women in putting hairpins into their hair in front of a looking-glass. All the motions are, of course, re- [94] THE FLY-WHEEL OF CIVILISATION versed. If an inexperienced man tried the experi- ment, he would probably stick the hairpin into his head. The third class consists of mental habits: con- centration or non-concentration ; tidiness or untidi- ness; observation or non-observation; and acquired mental aptitude for particular professions or busi- nesses. The fourth class comprises habits of life, usually called customs — such as the habit of various classes of the community or of the residents in particular districts to follow certain trades, often unfavour- able or dangerous as compared with others, and also the custom which most people have of continuing to reside where their parents lived before them. Cus- toms of this class are valuable, as they help to steady the world, but they have their dangers. A com- munity unduly shackled by custom makes no prog- ress, and revolutions are often caused by the fail- ure of one class to recognise the necessity for changes due to the aspirations of other classes. Without custom civilisation would fall to pieces, but too great rigidity leads to decay or upheaval. The same applies in commerce and industry. Con- tinuity of policy is an asset, whereas slavish ad- herence to old methods frequently leads to bank- ruptcy. One of the most striking commentaries upon habit was provided by Arnold Bennett and Edward Knoblock's play, "Milestones," which , should be performed regularly for a month every [95] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER year to selected audiences of politicians, commercial men, and trade union leaders. If we consider the extent to which habit governs our actions we can recognize the accuracy of Wil- liam James's description when he calls it the enor- mous fly-wheel of civilisation. As said in a former chapter, we should endeavour to make our nervous system our ally and not our enemy by cultivating useful habits and passing over to the automatic side of the brain as many mental operations as possible. The importance of habit arises from the fact that when the brain receives the signal A, the sequence B, C, D and so on follow without further conscious mental effort. That makes life easier and leaves more time and energy for thought and conscious action. But, like most things, even good habits have their dangers. Habit leads to rigidity. We all know the troublesome old gentleman who is an intolerable nuisance because he is so precise and regards any deviation from his routine as a terrible grievance. His pen must be in its place, so must his slippers; his meals must be served to the minute, etc. Even good habits must be kept in order; the fly-wheel must not be allowed to drive the machine. This is the business of the driver — the mysterious entity we call the "ego" — the sentient thinking being within you that controls your destiny. The driver of the human machine must watch all parts of his engine, physical and mental. Habits have no eyes. They [96] THE FLY-WHEEL OF CIVILISATION do not see the danger ahead. That is the driver's duty. For example, the habit of concentration is valu- able, but a man may over-concentrate on business or other matters. It is for the ego to see that bal- ance is preserved. Even the habit of personal clean- liness may be overdone. A person may become so meticulous as to consider two baths and several washings a day essential. Here the ego should step in and exercise its judgment. It should say, "You are making a fool of yourself. You are wast- ing your time. You are becoming luxurious and pernickety. Look here, Mr. Habit; you must cut down your appropriation of my daily time and energy. You must limit your activities to one bath and so many washings." Circumstances and customs change, and we must be prepared to modify our habits accordingly. But do not become an introspectionist — a mental vale- tudinarian — always probing into our own mind and reviewing your habits. Observe other people's habits and try to form a judgment on their desir- ability -or otherwise. Unconsciously that will lead you to do the right thing, or what you think is the right thing. It is a question of judgment and ob- servation. If you notice that a friend stoops, bites his nails, lacks concentration, etc., that will lead you almost unconsciously to examine your own habits and to ascertain whether you suffer from similar [971 SOME THINGS THAT MATTER defects. But don't run away with the idea that the same habits suit every one. Take for example the arrangement of papers. The late Lord Halsbury was famed for the clear- ness of his mind, and for his power of setting forth complicated facts and arguments in lucid form. If, however, you had seen him in the House of Lords, preparing to deliver judgment, the way in which he handled his papers must have reminded you of a witch stirring her cauldron. You would say to yourself, "What a horrible muddle this old gentleman is going to make of things I" Not at all. He would at once proceed to deliver, often without a note, a most lucid judgment expressed in beautiful language. On seeing this performance, a young man might well say, "Evidently the right way is to keep your papers in a muddle!" We all know that he would be wrong, and that tidiness leads to a tidy mind, and tidy thinking. He would overlook the fact that Lord Halsbury was an ex- ceptional man, with vast experience, and would forget that while scaffolding is necessary for the construction of an edifice, it can be cast away when the building is constructed. By dint of practice, many great men have learned the art of doing their tidying in their minds. It is there they arrange the facts and arguments, oblivi- ous of the conditions of the papers in which they are expressed. But if you were to make inquiries you would probably find that in their early days they [98] THE FLY-WHEEL OF CIVILISATION were methodical. The keeping of papers usually involves physical trouble. Many people, as they grow older, become more energetic mentally and less physically. They hate to be bothered with petty details, but their minds are so trained that they can observe and classify facts and arguments with very little difficulty. The most important thing in life is good judgment. The wise man forms right habits in the right way. But it must be confessed that there are many habits that are not quite good which are very pleasant. For example, smoking. Prob- ably most people would be better if they did not smoke, but those addicted to this habit generally consider the resulting pleasure outweighs the dis- advantages. We ought not, however, to humbug ourselves about habits. If we pursue a bad habit because we like it, we may just as well admit that it is bad, and the habit must be kept in check, so that if and when necessary the ego may seize and throttle it. Otherwise it may seize and throttle the ego. Or, to return to William James's meta- phor, the fly-wheel may "bust" the machine. As Cicero says, it is a great thing to know our own vices. Quoting from Professor Bain, William James gives three maxims for acquiring a new habit or leaving off an old one. One. We must take care to launch ourselves with as strong and decided an initiative as possible. He means that we must accumulate the best pos- [99] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER sible conditions to enable us to carry out the resolu- tions determined upon, so us to make the new way easy. For example, it' we want to give up smoking, we must banish tobacco from the house. It may, however, be noted here that there is another and more heroic method — viz., to withstand and to con- quer temptation in a glaring form. When M. Cle- menceau decided to abandon smoking in the inter- ests of health, he placed an open box of the best cigars he could get on the table in front of him, and left it there for a fortnight, making up his mind firmly that he would not touch a cigar. Being a man of strong will, he "won out," as the Americans say, and has never smoked since. I do not advise this method for ordinary people. Most of us would have found our fingers stealing towards the box. Two. Never suffer an exception to occur till the new habit is securely rooted in your life. Each lapse is like letting fall a ball of string which one is carefully winding up. A single slip undoes more than many turns will wind again. Three. Seize the first possible opportunity to act on every resolution you make, and on every emo- tional prompting you may experience in the direc- tion of the habit you aspire to gain. The actual presence of the practical opportunity alone fur- nishes the fulcrum upon which the lever can rest, by means of which the moral will may multiply its strength and raise itself aloft. Gestures are no good. Actions are necessary. [100] VIII: HOW TO THINK VIII HOW TO THINK The mind's the standard of the man. — Isaac Watts. It is the mind that makes the man. — Ovid. Every one should study the principles of evidence and reasoning. I refer to the method of ascertain- ing and verifying facts and the inferences to be drawn from them when ascertained. Questions of evidence are continually presenting themselves to every human being. Jeremy Bentham has a nice little passage about this: "Domestic management turns upon evidence. Whether the leg of mutton now on the spit be roasted enough is a question of evidence ; a question of which the cook is judge. The meat is done enough ; the meat is not done enough ; these opposite facts, the one positive, the other negative, are the principal facts — the facts sought ; evidentiary facts, i.e., those on which the principal facts depend, the present state of the fire, the time that has elapsed since the putting down of the meat, the state of the fire at different points during that length of time, [103] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER the appearance of the meat, together with other points, perhaps out of Dumber, the development of which might occupy pages upon pages, but which the cook decides in the cook's way, if as by instinct, deciding upon evidence, as Monsieur Jourdain talked prose, without having ever heard of any such word, perhaps, in the whole course of her life. "Questions in natural philosophy, questions in natural history, questions in technology in all its branches, questions in medicine, are all questions of evidence. When we use the words observation, ex- perience, and experiment, what we mean is, facts observed, or supposed to be observed, by ourselves or others, either as they arise spontaneously, or after the bodies in question have been put, for the pur- pose, into a certain situation." Some people reason accurately by nature, but most think loosely, except, perhaps, in relation to their own business. There are different methods of improving the reasoning powers. You can study mathematics or formal logic, but many persons trained in these subjects are poor reasoners con- cerning the ordinary affairs of life. This is because they do not try to use the implements at their com- mand. A youth often regards mathematics as a special subject, dealing with imaginary technical symbols and having no relation to other subjects. He does not consciously apply the principles learned to the ordinary questions of life. The same may be said in a less degree of formal logic. One [104] HOW TO THINK of the best methods of training the mind is to study the principles of legal evidence. Burke was of this opinion. He described the law as "science which does more to quicken and invigor- ate the understanding than all the other kinds of learning put together." (He added, with much sagacity, that "it is not apt, except in persons very happily born, to open and liberalise the mind in ex- actly the same proportion.") Lord Morley is of the same opinion. He once recommended a study of legal methods of reasoning "to open plain men's eyes to the logical pitfalls among which they go stumbling and crashing, when they think they are disputing like Socrates or reasoning like Newton. They would thus see how a proposition or an ex- pression that looks straightforward and unmistak- able is yet on examination found to be capable of bearing several distinct interpretations and mean- ing several distinct things; how the same evidence may warrant different conclusions, and what kinds of evidence carry with them what degrees of va- lidity; how certain sorts of facts can be proved in only one way, and certain other sorts of facts in some other way ; how necessary it is, before you set out, to know exactly what it is you intend to show, or what it is you intend to dispute ; how there may be many argumentative objections to a proposition, yet the balance be in favour of its adoption." All this does not mean that I ask you to go deeply into the law, or to suggest that in order to under- [105] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER stand the values of evidence you must make yourself a sort of semi-lawyer. For countless centuries Law Courts have been schools of practical reasoning about practical things. Indeed, in their very na- ture, they are a nursery of reasoning and a sort of analytical laboratory of evidence, and there is a great deal to be learned from their methods by the average man. Of course there is no intention to minimise the importance of mathematics and logic as methods of strengthening the reasoning powers. For many purposes, such as scientific investigation, they are indispensable. But for the man engaged in the ordinary avocations of life I recommend a study of the rules of evidence, as they obtain in the Law Courts. One. Because they relate to the actual affairs of life and are therefore better suited than abstractions for dealing with everyday problems. Two. Because logic deals with the inferences to be drawn from premises which may be true or false, whereas the lawyer is chiefly concerned in ascer- taining what the premises, or to use another word, the facts, really are. I think it was Sir James Mackintosh who said that "Men fall into a thou- sand errors by reasoning from false premises to fifty they make from wrong inferences from prem- ises they employ." Three. Because it is easier for the ordinary man who reads only for relaxation to assimilate them. [106] HOW TO THINK My object, then, is to supply the information indicated by Lord Morley. In daily life it is impos- sible to apply the strict legal rules of evidence, but, as I have shown, it is well to bear them in mind. It is also well to remember that many people have a pernicious habit of confusing their inferences and the facts on which they are based. Many false and misleading stories are due to this. Suppose, for example, that Mrs. Brown sees Mr. Jones and Mrs. Smith continually walking and motoring together. Unconsciously applying the theory of probability, she scents a scandal, and thereupon tells Mrs. Tom- kins that Mrs. Smith is too intimate with Mr. Jones. In short, Mrs. Brown does not discriminate between her facts and her inferences, which may be errone- ous. She does not tell Mrs. Tomkins what she saw. She relates the impression which she derived from what she saw. To give another example of this wide-spread and insidious habit. Stewart calls on Mackenzie, whom he does not know, and from seeing in the latter s house a number of medical books wrongly assumes him to be a doctor. Stewart is proving too much. He says what he belives to be true, but he has made the blunder of stating as a fact what is only an in- ference drawn from facts which are capable of grounding more than one inference. He selects the inference that appeals to him, and then com- municates it to a listening world as a fact. The [107] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER question. How do you know? in a more polite and indirect form is a useful probe. Lawyers do not deal with abstractions, but with facts — usually interesting in themselves. Apart from actual cases it is amusing to apply principles of legal evidence to literary incidents. Pitt-Tay- lor's voluminous treatise on Evidence contains nu- merous references of this sort. In discussing cir- cumstantial evidence he points out how in "Mac- beth" Lenox, Macduff, and the other chieftains erroneously assumed that the grooms had murdered the King, because "their hands and faces were all liadged with blood, so were their daggers which un- wiped we found upon their pillows," and next that "they were suborned" by the King's two sons, who had "stolen away and fled." Again, take Iago's story of the handkerchief which goaded Othello to madness : Iago: Have you not sometimes seen a handkerhcief, spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand? Othello: I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift. Iago: I knew not that, but such a handkerchief (I am sure it was your wife's) did I to-day see Cassio wipe his beard with. Othello: If it be that Iago: If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her, with the other proofs. Othello: Oh! that the slave had forty thousand lives One is too poor, too weak for my revenge ! Now do I see 'tis true. So, when Jacob saw Joseph's coat of many colours, stained with kid's blood, "he knew it, and said, 'It [108] HOW TO THINK is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.' " The stu- dent will discover the difference between direct, cir- cumstantial, primary, and secondary evidence. He will find that human reasoning depends upon the detection of similarities and dissimilarities, and the estimation of probabilities. He will find that law- yers do not draw inferences from a fact until it has been proved, in which respect most people are con- stant offenders. He will also learn that hearsay evidence is not to be trusted, and that the opinion of fanatics corresponds with the apostle's definition of faith — "The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." [109] IX: HOW TO JUDGE THINGS IX HOW TO JUDGE THINGS Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? — William Shakespeare. You would doubtless assume that the butcher had killed the heifer, and that, notwithstanding his un- bloodied beak, the kite was the delinquent. But both your assumptions might be wrong. The heifer might have been killed by another butcher, and the partridge might have been killed by the kite's mate. To put the matter in legal terms, there would be a prima facie case against the butcher or the kite requiring strong evidence to refute it. But there is often the one fact more that makes the difference, and it is unwise to jump to conclusions. However, as Butler said, probability is the guide of life. Hour by hour you are estimating chances or giv- ing or taking odds. In the morning when you start to catch your train, you know that you can walk to the station in say, ten minutes, and that the train starts in fifteen. The odds are five hundred to one [113] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER that you will catch it, but there is the one chance. Something may unexpectedly occur that will pre- vent you. If you start on a long motor journey you assume that you will reach your destination in a given time, but the odds are much less because the uncertain factors are greater in number. Every commercial venture is based on probability, and in most cases of disputed fact judges and juries have to decide not what is certain, but what is probable. There is a marked difference between judging things of the past and things of the future. The necessity for relying upon probability in the case of doubtful past happenings, is due to ignorance, which may at any moment be diminished by fresh evidence. In the case of the future, although in many instances past experience enables us to pro- phesy more or less accurately, yet most prophecies are shots in the dark. In estimating the value of conflicting evidence, you should assume that most people are truthful. If it were otherwise, the world would become a huge madhouse. Inaccuracy is more common than untruthfulness, and exaggeration or the suppres- sion of awkward facts more frequent than substan- tive lies. As Lord Brougham said, "Untruthful witnesses usually interlace reality with fiction," or as Tennyson puts it : A lie which is half a truth Is ever the blackest of lies. [114] HOW TO JUDGE THINGS A lie which is all a lie May be met and fought with outright; But a lie which is part a truth Is a harder matter to fight. Conspiracies to suppress or pervert the truth are common, but most hard swearing is done from a sense of partisanship. You should not lose sight of the fact that human nature is prone to take sides. If a taxicab has a collision the occupants of the cab usually side with the driver, and the residents in a house usually stand by one of their number involved in legal proceedings. This is an amiable quality, but such evidence requires to be discounted. There is another and less likeable type of person who starts with a bias against his own countrymen, his fellowtownsmen, or, generally speaking, those whom he might be expected to support. As W. S. Gilbert describes him : The idiot who praises with enthusiastic tone Every century but this and every country but his own. People of this class have perverted minds, and their evidence demands careful scrutiny. Prejudice is another fruitful cause of inaccuracy. Most people, you will find, are biased in favour of their own class, and persons who are strong advo- cates of theories or movements are apt to manipu- late facts. Statistics need to be carefully examined. Take, for example, those relating to drunkenness. Official [115] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER figures show certain rates of convictions in different towns, but nothing is said regarding the varying praetiee of the police in different places in arresting and charging drunken persons or of magistrates in convicting persons charged. Percentage dodges are common. Most of us know the story of the man who complained to the waiter in an American restaurant about the taste of the sausage he was eating. "It seems rather like horsemeat," he said. "Yes," replied the waiter, "we always make our sausages fifty-fifty (half and half)." "What on earth does that mean exactly?" inquired the bewildered and suspicious customer. "I guess," said the waiter, "one horse to one rabbit." Adopting the same interesting method, I may say "The ever-increasing popularity of chest-expand- ers, and of Snook's Chest Expanders in particular, may be judged from the remarkable fact that 50 per cent, of the inhabitants of Bunkumville who use this valuable adjunct to health and personal beauty wear Snook's Expanders, which are un- doubtedly the best." That may be true, but I omit to mention that only two persons in Bunkumville w r ear chest expanders, one of whom is Snooks him- self. Fifty-fifty is correct but misleading in this case also. My statement contains two fallacies. One, that the preponderance of the Snooks Ex- pander has any relation to the growing use of ex- panders in general, and, two, that any reliable de- [116] HOW TO JUDGE THINGS duction can be drawn from such inadequate prem- ises. The following are the most important points to be ascertained in deciding upon the credibility of witnesses: First, whether they have the means of gaining correct information; second, whether they have any interest in concealing the truth or propa- gating falsehood, and third, whether they agree in their testimony. To this may be added that, in judging doubtful evidence, care should be taken to ascertain whether collateral facts, proved or ad- mitted, tend to confirm it. For example, suppose A alleges that he had an interview with B at a certain time and place. B denies that the inter- view occurred. C proves that he saw A in the neighbourhood of the alleged place of meeting shortly before the time named by A. If C appears to be an honest witness, his evidence will strengthen A's case. Proposals have been made by eminent persons for valuing evidence by mathematical methods, in the same way that actuaries prepare life insurance tables. But obviously there is no analogy between the two. Life insurance tables are based on well- established and carefully tabulated facts. From these the actuary draws certain conclusions. In the affairs of ordinary life, or in the Law Courts, the difficulty is to ascertain the facts. As Laplace said, "How can you frame a mathematical formula [117] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER when you are dealing with passions, personal in- terests, and complicated circumstances?" Many learned people have devoted themselves to the study of probabilities, and there is a considerable literature upon the subject, the details of which are to be found in a recent book by Mr. J. M. Keynes, "A treatise on Probability." Much of this learn- ing deals with mathematical expectation in regard to games of chance, life assurance, and other similar matters, but suggestions have been made for apply- ing the same kinds of calculation to the conduct of life by measuring alternative courses of action. You decide by the measurement of probable results whether a certain step will lead you forward on the strait and thorny path, or whether it will cause you to side-step and go down the broad highway. It is no part of my purpose, however, to deal with these various aspects of probability. My obser- vations are limited to probability, as applied to judging evidence in the Law Courts and in every- day life. Serious difficulties arise when you are required to decide upon alleged facts which from their nature seem improbable. Where does reasonable belief end and credulity begin ? This is one of the eternal pro- blems of humanity by which we are constantly con- fronted. Our attitude of mind in this respect gov- erns our daily lives and our religious beliefs. A Court of Law accepts the established order of na- ture at the date of the inquiry, but is ready to [118] HOW TO JUDGE THINGS consider evidence of new discoveries pertinent to the issue to be tried. Suppose that one hundred years ago a witness had alleged that he had received a message through the air from a place three thou- sand miles away. The Court would not have ac- cepted such a statement in the absence of over- whelming proof. But if the necessary evidence had been forthcoming the fact would have been recognised, notwithstanding its antecedent improb- ability. The credulous do not discriminate between the probable and the improbable, and are prone to accept romantic stories on the faith of inadequate evidence or statements unworthy to be described as such. Distance — in time or place — adds en- chantment to the view. A man who would not be- lieve the story of an alleged miracle in his own village will readily accept the narrative of one stated to have occurred in a far-distant country hundreds of years ago. Instances of inaccurate statements concerning historical events are numberless. Several are col- lected in Wills's "Circumstantial Evidence." Lord Clarendon relates that the Marquess of Argyll was condemned to be hanged, and that the sentence was performed on the same day. Burnet, Woodrow, and Echard, writers of good authority who lived near the time, state that he was beheaded, and that the sentence was pronounced on Saturday and car- ried into effect on the Monday following. Differ- ent accounts have been given of the movements of [119] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER diaries II after his flight from Worcester. Some writers state that he embarked at Brighthelmstone and others at New Shorehani. Some say that Pym died in May, 1G43, while others give the following years as the date. Clarendon dishonestly states that Pym died of a loathsome disease, evidently with the idea of propagating the opinion that it was a mark of Divine vengeance, whereas he must have known that the corpse was exposed to public view for several days before interment in order to refute this calumnious statement. There is a general disposition to attach undue importance to the printed word. People will credit anonymous statements in print which they would not believe if made verbally by people whom they know. Even printed statements that are true are often misleading, because they do not convey the right impression. When you read the account of a breach of promise or divorce case containing a number of passionate, well-expressed, romantic let- ters, you insensibly associate with the story a fitting hero and heroine — a handsome man and a beautiful woman. Had you been present in the Court, and had you seen the parties and heard the evidence, you would probably have considered the whole business sordid and commonplace. [120] X: CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE X CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE The network of facts . . . may come to nothing, on the other hand it may be absolutely convincing. — Lord Coleridge I have dealt with the general laws of probability. I turn to concrete evidence and the consideration of its values. A fact may be proved in two ways, (1) by the evidence of witnesses who can speak from personal knowledge, or (2) by inference from other facts satisfactorily established. The former method of proof is called "direct," the latter "indirect" or "circumstantial." A is charged with murdering B. C and D prove that they saw A stab B. This would be direct proof. On the other hand, suppose that no eye-witness were present. The prosecution prove (1) that A and B had been on bad terms, (2) that A had been heard to say that he would get his own back on B, (3) that A had been seen near the place where the murder was committed at about the time when it took place, (4) that human blood had been found on A' clothes, (5) that he had given a false account of his movements on the day in question. The in- [123] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER ference from this body of facts would be that A was the murderer. This would he a case of indirect or circumstantial evidence. You must understand that although evidence of this class is exclusively associated in the non-legal mind with the administration of the criminal law it is used quite as freely and subject to the samt rules in civil cases. Furthermore, many decisions in the ordinary affairs of a man's life depend upon circum- stantial evidence. Thus, (1) if mother finds that a pot of raspberry jam in the pantry has been rifled, and (2) if little Willie is discovered with remnants of raspberry jam on his pinafore, and (3) if no raspberry jam has been served out for the use of the nursery, the inference is that little Willie is the culprit. Or — to take an amusing example from Thoreau; "Circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk." Therefore, although we may have no special interest in legal affairs, it is well to understand the principles which govern the valuation of circumstantial evidence. Before dealing with the comparative values of direct and indirect evidence I will summarise the account of the trial of Madeline Smith, one of the most romantic and notable criminal cases of the last century. It is a good example of a prosecution founded exclusively upon circumstantial evidence, and will help the reader to grasp more readily the characteristics of this method of proof: [124] CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE At the date of the trial in 1857 Madeline Smith was aged twenty-one, her father being a Glasgow architect of good social position. She was fascinating, well educated, accom- plished, and popular with her friends, as will appear here- after. She possessed an ardent temperament, coupled with remarkable resolution and force of character. She was charged with the murder of a young Frenchman, Emile L'Angelier, to whom she had been introduced two years earlier. Their in- timacy had speedily developed, and a secret courtship was followed by an illicit amour, begun in May, 1856. Meanwhile Madeline's parents had become aware of her relations with L'Angelier, and had forbidden her to communicate with him on the ground that his social rank was lower than that of the Smith family. For this, and other and better reasons, they did not regard him as a suitable husband for their at- tractive daughter. In January, 1857, Miss Madeline's affections began to cool. Probably believing that she was about to become a mother, she became engaged to a man much older than herself, but in other respects desirable. During her lovemaking with L'Angelier she had written him some eighty letters of a pas- sionate and compromising character, some grossly indecent, but all expressing the intensity of her devotion. They are difficult to describe. In February, 1857, she told L'Angelier of her altered feelings, and asked him to return her corre- spondence. He declined. He said she was his wife, as per- haps she was according to Scotch law. He threatened to show her letters to her father and to her new lover. On February 8 she made a frantic appeal to L'Angelier not to dishonour her, and denying the engagement to the other man she proposed a resumption of relations with L'Angelier. He gladly assented. It had been her custom on convenient oc- casions to admit him to her father's house after the family had gone to bed, and, before his departure, to make him coffee or cocoa early. In the same month, February, she had at- tempted to buy prussic acid. L'Angelier visited her on February 11, and was taken seri- ously ill on his return home. On the 18th Madeline purchased arsenic openly in her own name, but under false pretences as to its intended use. On the 22nd L'Angelier paid her an- other visit and was again taken seriously ill. On March 6 [125] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER Madeline purchased still more arsenic. L'Angclier visited her yi t again with tin- same sequel. Then Bhe writes to him calling him to come to her once more. This letter plainly shows ber powera as a correspond- <"t. It --I" murdered him, what a terrible commentary on human natur- ' "Why. my beloved, did you not come to me? Oh, beloved, are you ill? Come to me, sweet one. I waited and waited lor you, hut you came not. I shall wait again to-morrow night at the same hour and with the same arrangement. Do come, sweet love, my own dear love of a sweetheart, come beloved and clasp me to your heart. . . . Come and we shall be happy. A kiss and fond love. Adieu ! with tender embraces "Ever believe me to be your own ever dear fond "Mimi." On March 22 L'Angelier, only too eager, went to visit her, returned home seriously ill, and died in a few hours. She had purchased still more arsenic on March 18, and the post-mortem showed that death was due to this drug, of which a large quantity was found in the body. But Madeline's letters were her undoing. On being interrogated, she denied she had seen L'Angelier for three weeks before his death. The evidence for the defence showed that some years earlier the deceased had spoken about the use of arsenic, and had then had arsenic in his possession. It was also suggested that Miss Smith had bought the drug for complexion purposes. The jury found the verdict "Not Proven." During the trial the prisoner exhibited an undaunted and defiant attitude, and with perfect composure searched every corner of the Court with her great fierce dark eyes. She afterwards married, had children, and lived to be eighty. I believe some people will say that Madeline Smith had a lucky escape; but, a pretty woman is often lucky in Law Courts as well as elsewhere, particularly when she has nerves of steel and a constitution of Scotch granite. [126] CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE If you carefully examine this case (there is a full report in the "Notable British Trials" series), you will see that the evidence was entirely circum- stantial, and was built up on the motive, the pur- chases of poison, and the illnesses of the deceased following on his visits. The comparative values of direct and circum- stantial proof have been much discussed. In the earlier parts of the last century, when the public took more interest in legal subjects than they do now, it was common to hear even working men eagerly debating whether murder convictions should be allowed exclusively on circumstantial evidence. To-day the question has ceased to be of interest. It should, however, be stated that the arguments concerning circumstantial evidence were not all on one side. Bentham, who by his writings did so much to improve the administration of the law, con- tended that circumstantial was to be preferred to direct evidence. The contention was that witnesses may lie, whereas circumstances never do. This means, in other words, that proof of a main fact by a chain of subsidiary facts is more reliable than the evidence of witnesses who testify to the main fact of their own knowledge. Four persons are in a room — A, B, C, and D. B stabs A, and conspires with C to charge D with the crime. If the con- spiracy is well devised D may easily be convicted. Or to take another instance of the danger of direct evidence. Many innocent persons have suffered [127] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER owing to wrong identification. Mistakes of this sort are easily made. The criminal is seen by the witnesses for a few minutes only. Later suspicion falls on some person who is arrested and put up for identification. Meanwhile the witnesses have been privately questioned by the police as to the characteristics of the man who committed the crime. Was he wearing a cap? Had he a moustache? Was he sallow-faced ? etc., etc. These inquiries lead the mind insensibly to form definite in place of doubtful conceptions, and when a person is pro- duced who fills the bill the witnesses are apt to say "Thou art the man." There have been numerous cases of mistaken identity. One of the most notable in recent years is that of Mr. Beck, thus described in Best "On Evidence": "In 1877 a man who called himself John Smith was con- victed at the Old Bailey for frauds on women. His methods were to introduce himself as Lord Willoughby, a nobleman of wealth, with an establishment in St. John's Wood, and offer the position of mistress to his victim. He would then suggest that she would require a new outfit, write out an order on some well-known tradesman at whose shop she was to purchase what was required, and give her a cheque on a non-existing bank, as the Bank of London. He would then on some pretext borrow some article of jewellery, with which he decamped. He was sentenced to five years' penal servi- tude, but released on licence in April, 1881. "Towards the end of 1894 the police received complaints from various women of similar frauds, and in December, 1895, a woman met Mr. Beck in Victoria Street, and charged him with having robbed her, though he protested that he had never seen her before. A large number of the women who had [128] CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE complained to the police were then given opportunities, in the ordinary way, of seeing Mr. Beck, to ascertain whether they could identify him as the man who had defrauded them. Of these many with varying degrees of confidence testified against him at the police-court, and he was committed for trial at the Westminster Police-Court, tried at the Old Bailey in March, 1896 (his main defence being that the real offender was the man convicted in 1877, and that he was not that man) and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. He petitioned at once, and frequently afterwards, but without success, for a reopening of the case on the ground of its being one of mistaken identity. He was released on licence in 1901 — and in April, 1904, was again arrested on a charge similar to those on which he had been convicted in 1896. He was tried before Mr. Justice Grantham, and again convicted, both of the offences charged and of having been convicted of similar offences in 1896. Mr. Justice Grantham, however, having misgivings upon the case, postponed sentence till the next session, and none was ever pronounced, as in the meantime the arrest of the ex-convict Smith on similar charges, based on acts committed while Mr. Beck was in custody, led to fur- ther inquiries and the consequent release and pardon of Mr. Beck in respect of both the 1896 and 1904 convictions. Smith was soon afterwards tried before Mr. Justice Phillimore, and sentenced on September 15, 1904, to five years' penal servi- tude. It was impossible that Smith and Mr. Beck could have been the same person, as Smith was circumcised and Mr. Beck was not. Mr. Beck was doubly pardoned; and £5,000 com- pensation awarded to him by the Treasury. >» But notwithstanding all defects in direct evi- dence, judges very properly regard it as superior to circumstantial evidence. Happily few cases de- pend exclusively upon direct or indirect evidence. A combination of the two is usually available. Cir- cumstantial like direct evidence depends upon the truthfulness of witnesses, and, in addition, the Court is required to draw an inference from the [129] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER facts proved in order to arrive at a decision. If the prosecution endeavours to establish by circum- stantial evidence that A murdered B the Court must not only satisfy itself that the facts alleged have been proved, but also that they justify the inference (i.e. show) that A committed the crime. Cases based exclusively upon circumstantial evidence are regarded with caution, because of the tendency of mankind to form theories, and when formed to en- deavour to support them by emphasising convenient facts or by excluding those that are inconvenient. Judge Pitt Taylor, in his remarkable book on "Evi- dence," says: In truth, the only "circumstances which cannot lie" are those which necessarily lead to a certain conclusion. Who is to decide on this necessity? Clearly those who have also to decide on the fact in issue. Besides, these very circumstances must be proved, like direct facts, by witnesses, who are equally capable with others of deceiving or being deceived. In no sense, therefore, is it possible to say that a conclusion drawn from circumstantial evidence can amount to absolute certainty, or, in other words, that circumstances cannot lie. "Uncle Remus" contains a striking instance of the fallibility of circumstantial evidence. When Brer Rabbit stole the butter intended for the lunch of himself and the other animals who were harvest- ing, in order to conceal the theft he smeared some of the butter upon the whiskers of Brer Possum, who was sleeping after his labours. Brer Rabbitt then raised the hue and cry that some one had stolen [130] CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE the butter. Naturally, suspicion fell on Brer Pos- sum, who was unjustly convicted of the crime. The rules regarding the credibility of circumstan- tial evidence in criminal cases are stated by Best as follows : 1. — The onus of proving everything essential to the estab- lishment of the charge against the accused lies on the prose- cutor. 2. — The evidence must be such as to exclude to a moral cer- tainty every reasonable doubt of the guilt of the accused. 3. — In matters of doubt it is safer to acquit than condemn; for it is better that several guilty persons should escape than that one innocent person should suffer. 4. — There must be clear and unequivocal proof of the corpus delicti, or body, or basis, of the crime. If a man is charged with murder, obviously the first question is whether the person alleged to have been done to death is actually dead. Before you set out to prove that A murdered B you must prove that B is dead. The danger of endeavouring to prove facts of this sort exclusively by circumstantial evidence is obvious. Sir Matthew Hale mentions an instance where a man was missing for a consid- erable time and there was strong ground for pre- suming that another had murdered him and con- sumed the body in an oven ; the supposed murderer was convicted, and executed, after which the other man returned from sea. 5. — The hypothesis of delinquency should be consistent with all the facts proved. [131] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER In passing from this subject I cannot do better than quote the late Lord Coleridge's eloquent de- scription of circumstantial evidence: "I think one might describe it as a network of facts cast around the accused man. That network may be a mere gossamer thread, as light and as unsubstantial as the air itself. It may vanish at a touch. It may be that, strong as it is in part, it leaves great gaps and rents through which the accused is entitled to pass in safety. It may be so close, so stringent, so coherent in its texture that no efforts on the part of the accused can break through. It may come to nothing — on the other hand, it may be absolutely convincing. . . . The law does not demand that you shall act upon certainties alone. ... In our lives, in our acts, in our thoughts we do not deal with cer- tainties; we ought to act upon just and reasonable convictions founded upon just and reasonable grounds." [132] XI: FACTS AND INFERENCES XI FACTS AND INFERENCES Prove all things; hold fast that which is good. — Epistle to the Thessalonians. Of the different sorts of proof, what lawyers call "real evidence" is the most satisfactory and con- vincing. It is the evidence afforded by our senses. With limitations, "See and judge for yourself" is not a bad maxim. Such evidence must, however, be regarded with caution. In my last chapter I indicated the danger of describing inferences as facts. It is also a common error to mistake infer- ences for facts. The Copernican controversy is a good and much- quoted instance. The appearances of Nature led people to assume that the earth was stationary and that the sun went round it. This conclusion or in- ference they treated as a fact. We now know that their assumption was wrong. The things they saw every day did not mean what they thought. So it is in smaller things. All that glitters is not gold. You, an unsophisticated male, may in your innocence remark to your observant and better- informed wife that Mrs. B. has a wonderful com- [135] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER plexion. Your lady says, "I wonder how it would look after a shower of rain?" You both saw the same beautiful colouring, but you drew different inferences. In stating that Mrs. 15. had a fine com- plexion you stated as a fact what was in reality a mistaken inference or impression from certain ob- served facts — colour, texture, and so on. You mis- took artificial for natural bloom. You may say — why so many words to describe what we all call a mistake? Why confuse the discussion by talking about mistaking inferences for facts? The answer is that if you wish to have a clear perception of things you must acquire the habit of discriminating between what you see and the conclusions you draw from what vou see. This is one of the chief merits of the legal method. Lawyers are careful to ascertain what facts are proved, and then what facts may be inferred or presumed from the proved facts. A frequent source of error is the habit of remem- bering and emphasising facts which favour one side of a question and overlooking, forgetting, or mini- mising those which favour the other. This is due in a great measure to faulty enumeration. For ex- ample: the production of six different cures by a quack doctor would no doubt secure him a great reputation, but no details would be forthcoming of the hundreds of cases in which he had failed. Another fallacy is due to the assumption that what holds good of each member of a certain class [136] FACTS AND INFERENCES holds good of the class collectively. To give a sim- ple instance. A firm makes a profit by employing four travellers. The partners therefore assume that as each traveller is remunerative they can usefully increase the number to twenty with a corresponding increase of profit. But this may be erroneous. The trade available may suffice for only four. On the other hand, twenty travellers may produce a re- munerative turnover, whereas four may show a loss. The man who ruins himself by extravagance, if he thinks at all, suffers from a like delusion. He justi- fies each item of expense on the ground that he can afford it, forgetting that the sum total will lead him into the bankruptcy court. It is a common trick to bring forward an irrele- vant object to support a doubtful statement. For instance, Shakespeare's Jack Cade claimed to be the grandson of the Earl of March and therefore heir to the Throne. He alleged that his father had been stolen by a beggar, and, being ignorant of his par- entage, had become a bricklayer . One of Cade's supporters clinched the matter with the crowd by telling them that the bricklayer had made a chimney in his father's house and that the bricks were there to testify it! Another trick is to substitute a different proposi- tion for the one of which proof is required; e.g., a man is convicted of embezzlement, but many miti- gating circumstances are brought forward which cannot be denied. A bitter critic may say, "Well, [137] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER but after all the man is a rogue and there. is an end of it." Such an assertion regarding a point not in dispute is irrelevant. The odium implied by the use of the word "rogue" excites a disgust in the minds of the listeners which destroys the force of the mitigating circumstances, the real question un- der discussion (Whately). If a matter is important it is well to write down the points of which proof is required and the parti- culars of the evidence available to prove each point, indicating which facts are proved and which in- ferred. J In conversation undue precision in language is regarded as pedantic, but when dealing with sub- jects of importance it is essential to understand ex- actly what you imply by the words used. Definition is the remedy for ambiguity. Most of us could not define a number of the words we constantly use. Roughly, we know their meaning, but we could not at short notice write down precise definitions. Make the experiment. Take words such as beauty, civilisation, impossibility, certain, capital, rent, wages, profits: write down your definitions, and then check them with a good dictionary. You will probably find the task not so easy as it apppears. If you use terms of art or commerce which have tra- ditional meanings, be careful that you understand their technical implications. Should you fail to observe this precaution the words used may be held to mean what you did not intend. [138] FACTS AND INFERENCES In legal proceedings the Court usually insists upon the production of physical objects forming part of the evidence, instead of relying upon a de- scription of such objects by witnesses. Non-pro- duction when unexplained gives rise to a presump- tion against the defaulting party. For instance, a sweep's boy found a diamond which he took to a jeweller, who declined to return it or to produce it in Court. The judge told the jury to assume that the diamond was of the finest class, thus giving the rascally jeweller his deserts. In larceny cases, if the stolen property has been found, its produc- tion is usually required, and in murder cases the lethal instrument, if available, must be produced. In civil proceedings, the Court frequently inspects samples of goods, pieces of machinery, etc. All these are called "exhibits" — the lawyer's term for documents or articles referred to by witnesses. As unskilled persons are incapable of forming a reliable opinion on a technical question, such as the quality of a material, skilled witnesses are frequently called to assist the Court with explanations. The best evidence available by the party upon whom lies the burden of proof must be produced. This rule chiefly relates to documents. What is in writing must be proved by the writing itself, and the original must be produced unless ( 1 ) it has been lost or destroyed; (2) production is physically im- possible; or (3) the document is in possession of the opposite party, who neglects to produce it after [139] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER receiving notice to do so. The original or best evi- dence is called primary evidence. All evidence falling short of this is called secondary. When secondary evidence is permissible it may consist of a copy of the document, or verbal evidence as to its contents. The necessity for the rule that demands the best evidence is obvious. Honest witnesses frequently make mistakes as to the contents of written documents, and copies are often inaccurate. Sometimes the inaccuracy is due to negligence and sometimes to fraud. In the ordinary business of life, if the occasion be important it is essential to see original documents, more especially in the case of references and orders and contracts. It is a common trick for a person seeking a situation to copy out and re-date an old reference so as to bridge over an awkward inter- vening period, and many frauds have taken place owing to the substitution of higher or lower figures in copies of orders or contracts for sale or purchase. For example, A offers B certain property for, say, £10,000, alleging that he (A) gave £8,000 for it. In support of this statement he produces a copy of a contract in which the consideration is stated at £8,000, when in the original the price is much less. Reliance on extracts from speeches, letters, and other documents is proverbially dangerous. The context often controls, explains, or modifies the meaning. The law makes certain presumptions. That is to [140] FACTS AND INFERENCES say, it assumes certain things to be true. Some of these presumptions, called conclusive, cannot be contradicted, while others, called rebuttable, may- be rebutted or explained by evidence. For ex- ample, it is conclusively presumed that every sane person above the age of fourteen is acquainted with the civil and criminal law; that every sane man of the age of discretion contemplates the natural and probable consequences of his acts; that when hus- band and wife have cohabited together during the period appropriate to conception, and no impo- tency is proved, the issue are legitimate although the wife may have been guilty of acts of adultery at the time in question; that after a certain age (probably fifty-three) women are incapable of child-bearing; and that a child under seven cannot commit an in- dictable offence. There are many other conclusive presumptions mainly relating to the proof of ju- dicial or official acts, such as the registration of joint-stock companies, bankruptcies, etc., which are conclusively proved by the production of prescribed official documents. Conclusive presumptions avoid waste of time and simplify judicial proceedings. For instance, if it be necessary to prove the registration of a joint- stock company, there is obviously no occasion to do more than produce the registrar's certificate show- ing that the company has been duly registered. The Court assumes that the registrar has satisfied him- self that all preliminaries to registration have been [141] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER properly performed. The presumption that every one is assumed to know the law may. however, oc- casion surprise, as.it is notorious that even judges frequently experience difficulty, after laborious in- vestigation, in ascertaining the law upon a parti- cular point. The answer to this criticism is that the presumption in question is the basis of all systems of jurisprudence. There can be only one standard for the whole population — viz., the law, whatever it may be. That is certain which is capable of being made certain. Doubtful points are settled by the Courts. If a man's obligations depended upon the state of his acquaintance with the law, ignorance would be at a premium and dishonest persons would escape by lying as to the extent of their information. Rebuttable presumptions, as their name implies, are those which may be shown to be false in the par- ticular case. For instance, innocence is presumed until guilt is proved by clear and sufficient evidence. If there is a doubt the prisoner is entitled to the benefit of it. Also a man is presumed to be sane until evidence to the contrary is produced. The onus of proving insanity is on the party by whom it is alleged. Thus, if a will is impugned on the ground of the testator's mental incapacity the bur- den of proof rests with the party contesting the will. It will be noticed that both conclusive and rebut- table presumptions are nothing more than judicial rules that certain assumptions shall be made in the one case absolutely and in the other subject to con- [142] FACTS AND INFERENCES tradiction by sufficient evidence. The same effect might have been produced had they been embodied in Acts of Parliament; indeed, the whole of our statute law is in the nature of presumptions which must be enforced by the Courts. Conclusive and rebuttable presumptions of law must not be con- founded with presumptions of fact, which, as al- ready shown, arise in cases depending upon circum- stantial evidence. A presumption of fact is noth- ing more than an inference drawn from any fact or facts. If facts, A, B, and C are proved, the Court may infer fact D. The celebrated judgment of King Solomon was founded on two presump- tions : ( 1 ) That maternal affection would prevent a mother from allowing her child to be divided in two, and (2) that the woman who was willing to save the child was the mother. Amongst conclusive presumptions are included what lawyers term estoppels. When a person by his words or conduct represents to another that a certain state of things exists, and thus induces him to alter his position, the person making the repre- sentation will be precluded or estopped from deny- ing the truth of the facts represented. Thus if A represents to B that C is A's agent and B acts on that representation, A will be precluded from deny- ing the agency. Those who desire to study more closely the sub- jects dealt with in these articles might read with advantage the chapters in Mills "Logic" dealing [143] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER with fallacies. Also the same sections in Dc Mor- gan's "Logic" and Whately's "Logic." Another useful hook is "Principles of Science" by Jevons, although parts of it arc highly technical. There are many hooks on legal evidence. The larger ones are Best and Pitt-Taylor. A smaller book is Phipson's "Manual of the Law of Evi- dence." Wills on Circumstantial Evidence deals more particularly with that branch of the subject. A great part of the legal works quoted consists of technical matter dealing with questions of prac- tice of interest only to lawyers ; therefore the lay- reader will do well to pick out the chapters which deal with principles. The first 108 pages of "Best" will suffice for most people. Although not strictly relevant to the rules of evidence a perusal of por- tions of Pollock or Anson on "Contracts" and Pol- lock on torts or wrongs will be found a useful guide to precise thinking. [144] XII: HEARSAY AND WHAT IS RELEVANT XII HEARSAY AND WHAT IS RELEVANT "I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in this case. Speak up, if you please, Mr. Weller." "I mean to speak up, sir," replied Sam. "I am in the service o' that 'ere gen'l'man, an* a wery good service it is." "Little to do and plenty to get, I suppose?" said Sergeant Buzfuz, with jocularity. "Oh, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered him three hundred and fifty lashes," replied Sam. "You must not tell us •what the soldier, or any other man, said, sir," interposed the judge; "it's not evi- dence." "Wery good, my lord," replied Sam. "Bardell v. Pickwick." I now turn to hearsay evidence and necessity of keeping to the point according to the law of Eng- land. It must be remembered that Scottish differs from English law in many respects. Mr. Justice Starleigh's ruling (in "Bardell v. Pickwick") was correct. Generally speaking, hear- say, or second-hand evidence, is not received in the Law Courts. Witnesses must speak to what they know of their own knowledge. Otherwise the Court would be required to act on the evidence of [147] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER witnesses not under oath and not subject to cross- examination. Other reasons are that the admission of hearsay would open the door to fraud and spin out trials to an unconscionable length. Let us take a typical case. A is charged with murdering his wife by putting poison in her tea. B, one of the witnesses, says C told him, a month after the alleged murder, that he had seen A pour poison out of a bottle into the teapot. That would not be evidence against A, and in a well-conducted trial B would not be allowed to make such a statement. The rule extends to written as well as to verbal statements. A letter from C to B stating that he, C, had seen the prisoner dope the teapot would not be evidence any more than C's verbal statement. "Hearsay conduct" also is inadmissible. The opin- ion of a person not called as a witness cannot be proved by describing what he did. For example, the question in one case was whether a ship was sea- worthy. A deceased captain, after examining the ship had embarked in her with his family. The Court held that this was not evidence of seaworthi- ness. This extension of the rule is open to serious criticism. There is a marked difference between proof of conduct and second-hand statements. The latter are open to all sorts of doubts, but the former are definite facts from which the Court can draw its own inferences. There are, however, many exceptions to the rule: (1) Statements forming part of what lawyers [148] HEARSAY AND WHAT IS RELEVANT call the res gestce are admissible. The res gestae may be defined as the transaction, the subject of the inquiry, and the facts and circumstances intimately connected with ft. But such statements are only admitted as evidence that they were made, not as proving the truth of what was stated. For instance, A stabs B in the presence of C and D. C, giving evidence, relates the story and says that after the fatal blow D, now dead, said to A, "Good God! you have killed him." The statement could be given in evidence as part of the transaction, but not as proof of the fact that A killed B, although no doubt the effect of admit- ting it would be to influence the jury in the direction of believing that he did. In cross-examination, where a greater latitude is allowed than when examining-in-chief, questions may be put which elicit hearsay evidence, but such statements are inadmissible as proof of the facts to which they refer, and it is the practice of the judges to warn juries accordingly. (2) Declarations by deceased persons against their own interests are admitted. For example, if A enters in his diary a note that he owes B one hundred pounds, and dies later on, the entry would be evidence against A's executors if B sued for the hundred pounds. The reason for this rule is that people are not in the habit of making statements contrary to their own interests unless those statements are true, [149] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER whereas, on the other hand, they often make untrue statements in their own favour. (3) Declarations by deceased persons in the course of their employment arc also admissible. For instance it' B's Ledger clerk makes an entry showing that A owes B one hundred pounds, the entry would he admissible in favour of B if the clerk were dead when the action was tried. (4) Declarations by deceased persons regarding puhlic rights such as right of way, etc. (5) Declarations by deceased persons regarding question of pedigree. For instance, entries in fam- ily Bibles as to marriages, births, etc., and declara- tions by deceased persons as to their own marriage or that of their relatives. (G) Ancient documents are admitted as evidence of ancient possession of property provided they were executed contemporaneously with the transac- tions to which they relate. (7) Declarations made by persons under the belief of their impending death. (8) Declarations by a deceased person as to his state of health at a particular time. Both in civil and criminal cases the evidence must be relevant to the issues raised in the pleadings. The parties are not, or should not be, allowed to roam. This is a primary outstanding rule of the English law of evidence, and it is one which you may well bear in mind when dealing with ordinary investigations. Keep to the point. Consider mat- [150] HEARSAY AND WHAT IS RELEVANT ters only directly affecting the issue in question. No doubt it is often difficult to discover where roam- ing begins. This is shown by the inordinate length of many trials in the Law Courts. At the same time, lawyers have good rules. Whether they are always observed is another matter. The leading maxims are : "In jure non remota causa sed prox- ima spectatur" — "In law the proximate and not the remote cause is to be regarded" — and "Res inter alios acta alteri nocere non debet" — "One person ought not to be injured by the acts of others to which acts he is a stranger." Evidence must have a reasonable connection with the main fact to be determined. The parties must not drag in remote subsidiary facts and circumstances. Generally speaking, a prisoner's evil record can- not be brought up against him. If, however, he avails himself of his option to give evidence, he may be cross-examined as to character if he or his advo- cate has questioned the witnesses for the prosecution with a view to establishing his own good character, or has given evidence thereof, or the defence is such as to involve imputations upon the prosecutor or the witnesses for the prosecution. There are also certain cases in which evidence of previous charges may be given. Let us take two different examples. (1) A is charged with bur- glary and murder. Ten years before he had been convicted of robbery with violence, and seven years earlier of burglary. These facts cannot be given [151] SOMK THINGS THAT MATTER in evidence against him unless he goes Into the wit- ness-box under the circumstances above mentioned. (2) A baby fanner is charged with murdering an infant by neglect and starvation. The fact that five other children committed to her care had died under suspicious circumstances during the preceding two years can be given in evidence. In case No. 1 there is no connection between the different crimes, whereas in case No. 2 the deaths of the six children all form part of the same story. Civilisation depends upon character, credit, and reputation. You judge people by their record. As the Bible says, "By their fruits ye shall know them." This is another application of the theory of prob- ability. At the same time, we may carry this prin- ciple too far, and it is one of the merits of our admirable legal system that a man cannot be com- mitted upon evidence of bad character. The parti- cular charge against him must be proved. On the other hand, while a good reputation is a valuable asset, particularly in time of stress and danger, the law recognises, and experience shows, that crimes are often committed by unlikely persons, and that every one must be judged on the facts of the par- ticular case. [152] XIII: HOW TO FIND THINGS OUT XIII HOW TO FIND THINGS OUT Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life. — Marcus Aurelius No statement of the principles of evidence would be complete without a brief account of what scien- tists and logicians term the inductive method. This sounds rather learned and portentous, but it is merely the scientific name for a simple mental proc- ess which even ignorant persons constantly perform, and which is a necessary incident of life. The ques- tion is how you perform it. Every one reasons inductively — some con- sciously; some unconsciously; some in regard to big and others in regard to small things. The scien- tist applies the ordered and well-established prin- ciples of induction, whereas the child in his small way arrives at his conclusions by simpler methods. Briefly stated, induction consists in ascertaining general laws from particular instances. "In other words, induction is a process by which we conclude that what is true of certain individuals of a class is true of the whole class, or that what is true at certain [155] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER times will be true in similar eircumstances at all times" (Mill). Let us see how the child proceeds. Finding the blaze of the fire attractive, he reaches out toward the pleasing object, and, of course, burns his fingers. One experiment is usually enough. He comes to the conclusion that all fires burn the fingers of small boys. From an experiment with one fire he estab- lishes a general law regarding all fires. As Lord Macaulay says in his Essay on Lord Bacon, which I advise you to read: "It [the inductive method] is constantly practised by the most ignorant clown, by the most thoughtless schoolboy, by the very child at the breast. That method leads the clown to the conclusion that if he sows barley he shall not reap wheat. By that method the schoolboy learns that a cloudy day is the best for catching trout. The very infant, we imagine, is led by induction to ex- pect milk from his mother or nurse, and none from his father." The scientist proceeds on very much the same lines. He is faced with a phenomenon or occurrence which he does not understand. He sets to work to investigate it by observation and experiment. He may thus haphazard discover the cause, but the more usual course of scientific inquiry is for the investi- gator, from experience and by inference, to form a theory or hypothesis — a provisional explanation — which he endeavours to verify by examining all the evidence available. Of course, many theories prove [156] HOW TO FIND THINGS OUT to be wrong. The celebrated Turgot remarked: "The first thing is to invent a theory; the second thing is to destroy it." Or, shall we say, riddle it with ruthless criticism based not on one's own un- aided reflection, but upon an examination of the facts. It may be found in the progress of the in- quiry that the theory with which the investigator starts is wrong, and he may have to form another which, in its turn, may prove to be fallacious. Per- haps he may eventually propound a theory which can be supported by the observed facts. It should be noted, however, that there is this difference between the inductions of the child, or ignorant person, and those of the scientific investi- gator. The former knows only that things happen, while the latter knows why they happen. For in- stance, the quack knows by experience jthat a cer- tain drug acts as a tonic, but he does not know the reason, whereas the skilled doctor does. That is why rule-of-thumb knowledge is called empirical as compared with scientific. As an instance of scientific induction I will shortly describe one of the most amazing detective stories of modern times, the tracing and conviction of the mosquito as the carrier of malaria and yellow fever. From the time of Hippocrates malaria had been carefully studied and ascribed to all sorts of causes — miasma from undrained swamps, contagion by contact with persons suffering from the disease, infection from the air, etc., etc. In 1880 Laveran, [157] si SOME THINGS THAT MATTER a French army surgeon, discovered that malaria was caused by a minute parasite in the blood, hot how it got there remained a mystery. In an indefi- nite way the mosquito had Long hern associated with malaria, but it was not until ie a fraud, and strange happenings may be due to natural causes. If we wish t<> colled data on which to base an induction, we must sec that in each instance we arrive at the truth irrespective of possibilities. This is the A B C of scientific investigation. As Huxley says: "The development of exact natural knowledge in all its vast range, from physics to history and criti- cism, is the consequence of the working out, in this province, of the resolution to 'take nothing for truth without clear knowledge that it is such'; to consider all beliefs open to criticism; to regard the value of authority as neither greater nor less than as much as it can prove itself to be worth." Not having examined the evidence, I do not ven- ture to express an opinion upon the merits of the controversy concerning spiritualism and thought- transference. My only object is to insist upon the vital necessity, in the interests of the individual and the community, of abstaining from adopting im- portant beliefs without strict investigation of the facts. Those who are interested in this aspect of the discussion may read with advantage an essay by the late Professor W. K. Clifford, called "The Ethics of Belief," published in Lectures and Essays. Perhaps I may be permitted to say a few words from the point of view of the man in the street con- cerning certain recent and striking arguments by my friend Sir Oliver Lodge. For the most part he merely repeats what has been said in one form or [196] THE MORAL DUTY OF BELIEF another by philosophers of various schools since the time of Homer. In effect he says we possess a soul and that mind and matter are two different things. In other words, he rejects the mechanistic or ma- terialistic theory, and claims the reality of psycho- physical interaction — to use the jargon of the craft. Needless to say, these views are widely held by peo- ple of all classes, including distinguished men of science. There is nothing new about them, and, in- volving as they do the vital question of the immor- tality of the soul or reason, no subject has been more violently debated or given rise to more theories. According to Mr. William McDougal (see his in- teresting book on "Body and Mind") : "in spite of heated controversy the question still remains just where Aristotle left it, with this difference only — that we are beginning to acquire that understanding of the nature and extent of the bodily processes in- volved in mental activity, the lack of which necessi- tated the suspension of judgment in the truly sci- entific mind of Aristotle." He means that there is now a mass of carefully collected evidence re- garding our mental functions which demands care- ful study by any person who wishes to form a belief on this important subject. When all is said, Sir Oliver Lodge's only contri- bution to the discussion is the alleged proof of im- mortality supplied through the instrumentality of mediums and other testifiers. Obviously, the value of this contribution depends on the authenticity of [197] SOME THINGS THAT MATTER the evidence on which it is based. It may well be possible t<> confute M. Charles Richet by arguments proving that mind is something more than matter, but that in no way proves or tends to prove the spiritualistic theories of Sir Oliver Lodge. He fairly points out that if the mechanistic theory is correct, then there is an end of spiritualism. He tells us that "if memory resides in the brain, access to lost memory and personality through the agency of survivors is hopeless: for there are no survivors." Therefore, he is bent on destroying the mechanistic doctrine. The reader will do well to note, how- ever, that assuming that Sir Oliver is right, and that the mechanists are wrong, this does not prove that Sir Oliver and his coadjutors are correct in their further assumption that the soul or reason can exist apart from the body, or that, if it can, we can get into communication with it through the channels on which he places reliance. There are three separate and distinct points which must not be confused: — First. — Does mind exist apart from matter, i.e., the molecules of the brain and nerve-centres? Second. — If it does, can it continue in any — and, if so, what — shape after death? And Third. — Are Sir Oliver Lodge and those who think with him right when they allege the possibility of communicating with departed spirits? Of course, an affirmative reply to No. 3 settles Nos. 1 and 2, but the settlement in the affirmative [198] THE MORAL DUTY OF BELIEF of No. 1 or of Nos. 1 and 2 does not by any means imply No. 3. Not being a scientific man, it is not for me to make a statement regarding the considered opinion of the scientific world on Nos. 1 and 2. No doubt there are two violent camps, as there always have been. Whether we are nearer a scientific solution of these much-debated questions I for one cannot say; but from what I have read I should imagine that nowadays the affirmative of No. 1 has a pretty strong backing, supported by evidence which seems reliable, but that No. 2 is regarded as doubtful and disputable. As for No. 3, I have no comment to make, except that, if any one were to bring such evidence as satisfies Sir Oliver and his friends to me in connection with a business proposition, I should want to look into it very carefully. THE END. [199] UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped below APR 7 1947 S*tt»*9«84 l^ rorm T.-O 9UM-1. '41(11221 UNi -IFOKNIA LUiS ANGELES PR 6035 R43s Riddell - that matter 3 1158 00908 6 K UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 378 377 6 PR 6035 R43s