{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1017/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1017","id":"gutenberg_1017","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1017","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Socialism"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1909 Arthur L. Humphreys edition by David Price,\nemail ccx074@pglaf.org\n\n                          [Picture: Book cover]\n\n\n\n\nTHE\nSOUL OF MAN\n\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                  LONDON\n                            ARTHUR L. HUMPREYS\n                                   1900\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                           _Second Impression_\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOUL OF MAN\n\n\nTHE chief advantage that would result from the establishment of Socialism\nis, undoubtedly, the fact that Socialism would relieve us from that\nsordid necessity of living for others which, in the present condition of\nthings, presses so hardly upon almost everybody.  In fact, scarcely\nanyone at all escapes.\n\nNow and then, in the course of the century, a great man of science, like\nDarwin; a great poet, like Keats; a fine critical spirit, like M. Renan;\na supreme artist, like Flaubert, has been able to isolate himself, to\nkeep himself out of reach of the clamorous claims of others, to stand\n\u2018under the shelter of the wall,\u2019 as Plato puts it, and so to realise the\nperfection of what was in him, to his own incomparable gain, and to the\nincomparable and lasting gain of the whole world.  These, however, are\nexceptions.  The majority of people spoil their lives by an unhealthy and\nexaggerated altruism\u2014are forced, indeed, so to spoil them.  They find\nthemselves surrounded by hideous poverty, by hideous ugliness, by hideous\nstarvation.  It is inevitable that they should be strongly moved by all\nthis.  The emotions of man are stirred more quickly than man\u2019s\nintelligence; and, as I pointed out some time ago in an article on the\nfunction of criticism, it is much more easy to have sympathy with\nsuffering than it is to have sympathy with thought.  Accordingly, with\nadmirable, though misdirected intentions, they very seriously and very\nsentimentally set themselves to the task of remedying the evils that they\nsee.  But their remedies do not cure the disease: they merely prolong it.\nIndeed, their remedies are part of the disease.\n\nThey try to solve the problem of poverty, for instance, by keeping the\npoor alive; or, in the case of a very advanced school, by amusing the\npoor.\n\nBut this is not a solution: it is an aggravation of the difficulty.  The\nproper aim is to try and reconstruct society on such a basis that poverty\nwill be impossible.  And the altruistic virtues have really prevented the\ncarrying out of this aim.  Just as the worst slave-owners were those who\nwere kind to their slaves, and so prevented the horror of the system\nbeing realised by those who suffered from it, and understood by those who\ncontemplated it, so, in the present state of things in England, the\npeople who do most harm are the people who try to do most good; and at\nlast we have had the spectacle of men who have really studied the problem\nand know the life\u2014educated men who live in the East End\u2014coming forward\nand imploring the community to restrain its altruistic impulses of\ncharity, benevolence, and the like.  They do so on the ground that such\ncharity degrades and demoralises.  They are perfectly right.  Charity\ncreates a multitude of sins.\n\nThere is also this to be said.  It is immoral to use private property in\norder to alleviate the horrible evils that result from the institution of\nprivate property.  It is both immoral and unfair.\n\nUnder Socialism all this will, of course, be altered.  There will be no\npeople living in fetid dens and fetid rags, and bringing up unhealthy,\nhunger-pinched children in the midst of impossible and absolutely\nrepulsive surroundings.  The security of society will not depend, as it\ndoes now, on the state of the weather.  If a frost comes we shall not\nhave a hundred thousand men out of work, tramping about the streets in a\nstate of disgusting misery, or whining to their neighbours for alms, or\ncrowding round the doors of loathsome shelters to try and secure a hunch\nof bread and a night\u2019s unclean lodging.  Each member of the society will\nshare in the general prosperity and happiness of the society, and if a\nfrost comes no one will practically be anything the worse.\n\nUpon the other hand, Socialism itself will be of value simply because it\nwill lead to Individualism.\n\nSocialism, Communism, or whatever one chooses to call it, by converting\nprivate property into public wealth, and substituting co-operation for\ncompetition, will restore society to its proper condition of a thoroughly\nhealthy organism, and insure the material well-being of each member of\nthe community.  It will, in fact, give Life its proper basis and its\nproper environment.  But for the full development of Life to its highest\nmode of perfection, something more is needed.  What is needed is\nIndividualism.  If the Socialism is Authoritarian; if there are\nGovernments armed with economic power as they are now with political\npower; if, in a word, we are to have Industrial Tyrannies, then the last\nstate of man will be worse than the first.  At present, in consequence of\nthe existence of private property, a great many people are enabled to\ndevelop a certain very limited amount of Individualism.  They are either\nunder no necessity to work for their living, or are enabled to choose the\nsphere of activity that is really congenial to them, and gives them\npleasure.  These are the poets, the philosophers, the men of science, the\nmen of culture\u2014in a word, the real men, the men who have realised\nthemselves, and in whom all Humanity gains a partial realisation.  Upon\nthe other hand, there are a great many people who, having no private\nproperty of their own, and being always on the brink of sheer starvation,\nare compelled to do the work of beasts of burden, to do work that is\nquite uncongenial to them, and to which they are forced by the\nperemptory, unreasonable, degrading Tyranny of want.  These are the poor,\nand amongst them there is no grace of manner, or charm of speech, or\ncivilisation, or culture, or refinement in pleasures, or joy of life.\nFrom their collective force Humanity gains much in material prosperity.\nBut it is only the material result that it gains, and the man who is poor\nis in himself absolutely of no importance.  He is merely the\ninfinitesimal atom of a force that, so far from regarding him, crushes\nhim: indeed, prefers him crushed, as in that case he is far more\nobedient.\n\nOf course, it might be said that the Individualism generated under\nconditions of private property is not always, or even as a rule, of a\nfine or wonderful type, and that the poor, if they have not culture and\ncharm, have still many virtues.  Both these statements would be quite\ntrue.  The possession of private property is very often extremely\ndemoralising, and that is, of course, one of the reasons why Socialism\nwants to get rid of the institution.  In fact, property is really a\nnuisance.  Some years ago people went about the country saying that\nproperty has duties.  They said it so often and so tediously that, at\nlast, the Church has begun to say it.  One hears it now from every\npulpit.  It is perfectly true.  Property not merely has duties, but has\nso many duties that its possession to any large extent is a bore.  It\ninvolves endless claims upon one, endless attention to business, endless\nbother.  If property had simply pleasures, we could stand it; but its\nduties make it unbearable.  In the interest of the rich we must get rid\nof it.  The virtues of the poor may be readily admitted, and are much to\nbe regretted.  We are often told that the poor are grateful for charity.\nSome of them are, no doubt, but the best amongst the poor are never\ngrateful.  They are ungrateful, discontented, disobedient, and\nrebellious.  They are quite right to be so.  Charity they feel to be a\nridiculously inadequate mode of partial restitution, or a sentimental\ndole, usually accompanied by some impertinent attempt on the part of the\nsentimentalist to tyrannise over their private lives.  Why should they be\ngrateful for the crumbs that fall from the rich man\u2019s table?  They should\nbe seated at the board, and are beginning to know it.  As for being\ndiscontented, a man who would not be discontented with such surroundings\nand such a low mode of life would be a perfect brute.  Disobedience, in\nthe eyes of anyone who has read history, is man\u2019s original virtue.  It is\nthrough disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience\nand through rebellion.  Sometimes the poor are praised for being thrifty.\nBut to recommend thrift to the poor is both grotesque and insulting.  It\nis like advising a man who is starving to eat less.  For a town or\ncountry labourer to practise thrift would be absolutely immoral.  Man\nshould not be ready to show that he can live like a badly-fed animal.  He\nshould decline to live like that, and should either steal or go on the\nrates, which is considered by many to be a form of stealing.  As for\nbegging, it is safer to beg than to take, but it is finer to take than to\nbeg.  No: a poor man who is ungrateful, unthrifty, discontented, and\nrebellious, is probably a real personality, and has much in him.  He is\nat any rate a healthy protest.  As for the virtuous poor, one can pity\nthem, of course, but one cannot possibly admire them.  They have made\nprivate terms with the enemy, and sold their birthright for very bad\npottage.  They must also be extraordinarily stupid.  I can quite\nunderstand a man accepting laws that protect private property, and admit\nof its accumulation, as long as he himself is able under those conditions\nto realise some form of beautiful and intellectual life.  But it is\nalmost incredible to me how a man whose life is marred and made hideous\nby such laws can possibly acquiesce in their continuance.\n\nHowever, the explanation is not really difficult to find.  It is simply\nthis.  Misery and poverty are so absolutely degrading, and exercise such\na paralysing effect over the nature of men, that no class is ever really\nconscious of its own suffering.  They have to be told of it by other\npeople, and they often entirely disbelieve them.  What is said by great\nemployers of labour against agitators is unquestionably true.  Agitators\nare a set of interfering, meddling people, who come down to some\nperfectly contented class of the community, and sow the seeds of\ndiscontent amongst them.  That is the reason why agitators are so\nabsolutely necessary.  Without them, in our incomplete state, there would\nbe no advance towards civilisation.  Slavery was put down in America, not\nin consequence of any action on the part of the slaves, or even any\nexpress desire on their part that they should be free.  It was put down\nentirely through the grossly illegal conduct of certain agitators in\nBoston and elsewhere, who were not slaves themselves, nor owners of\nslaves, nor had anything to do with the question really.  It was,\nundoubtedly, the Abolitionists who set the torch alight, who began the\nwhole thing.  And it is curious to note that from the slaves themselves\nthey received, not merely very little assistance, but hardly any sympathy\neven; and when at the close of the war the slaves found themselves free,\nfound themselves indeed so absolutely free that they were free to starve,\nmany of them bitterly regretted the new state of things.  To the thinker,\nthe most tragic fact in the whole of the French Revolution is not that\nMarie Antoinette was killed for being a queen, but that the starved\npeasant of the Vend\u00e9e voluntarily went out to die for the hideous cause\nof feudalism.\n\nIt is clear, then, that no Authoritarian Socialism will do.  For while\nunder the present system a very large number of people can lead lives of\na certain amount of freedom and expression and happiness, under an\nindustrial-barrack system, or a system of economic tyranny, nobody would\nbe able to have any such freedom at all.  It is to be regretted that a\nportion of our community should be practically in slavery, but to propose\nto solve the problem by enslaving the entire community is childish.\nEvery man must be left quite free to choose his own work.  No form of\ncompulsion must be exercised over him.  If there is, his work will not be\ngood for him, will not be good in itself, and will not be good for\nothers.  And by work I simply mean activity of any kind.\n\nI hardly think that any Socialist, nowadays, would seriously propose that\nan inspector should call every morning at each house to see that each\ncitizen rose up and did manual labour for eight hours.  Humanity has got\nbeyond that stage, and reserves such a form of life for the people whom,\nin a very arbitrary manner, it chooses to call criminals.  But I confess\nthat many of the socialistic views that I have come across seem to me to\nbe tainted with ideas of authority, if not of actual compulsion.  Of\ncourse, authority and compulsion are out of the question.  All\nassociation must be quite voluntary.  It is only in voluntary\nassociations that man is fine.\n\nBut it may be asked how Individualism, which is now more or less\ndependent on the existence of private property for its development, will\nbenefit by the abolition of such private property.  The answer is very\nsimple.  It is true that, under existing conditions, a few men who have\nhad private means of their own, such as Byron, Shelley, Browning, Victor\nHugo, Baudelaire, and others, have been able to realise their personality\nmore or less completely.  Not one of these men ever did a single day\u2019s\nwork for hire.  They were relieved from poverty.  They had an immense\nadvantage.  The question is whether it would be for the good of\nIndividualism that such an advantage should be taken away.  Let us\nsuppose that it is taken away.  What happens then to Individualism?  How\nwill it benefit?\n\nIt will benefit in this way.  Under the new conditions Individualism will\nbe far freer, far finer, and far more intensified than it is now.  I am\nnot talking of the great imaginatively-realised Individualism of such\npoets as I have mentioned, but of the great actual Individualism latent\nand potential in mankind generally.  For the recognition of private\nproperty has really harmed Individualism, and obscured it, by confusing a\nman with what he possesses.  It has led Individualism entirely astray.\nIt has made gain not growth its aim.  So that man thought that the\nimportant thing was to have, and did not know that the important thing is\nto be.  The true perfection of man lies, not in what man has, but in what\nman is.  Private property has crushed true Individualism, and set up an\nIndividualism that is false.  It has debarred one part of the community\nfrom being individual by starving them.  It has debarred the other part\nof the community from being individual by putting them on the wrong road,\nand encumbering them.  Indeed, so completely has man\u2019s personality been\nabsorbed by his possessions that the English law has always treated\noffences against a man\u2019s property with far more severity than offences\nagainst his person, and property is still the test of complete\ncitizenship.  The industry necessary for the making money is also very\ndemoralising.  In a community like ours, where property confers immense\ndistinction, social position, honour, respect, titles, and other pleasant\nthings of the kind, man, being naturally ambitious, makes it his aim to\naccumulate this property, and goes on wearily and tediously accumulating\nit long after he has got far more than he wants, or can use, or enjoy, or\nperhaps even know of.  Man will kill himself by overwork in order to\nsecure property, and really, considering the enormous advantages that\nproperty brings, one is hardly surprised.  One\u2019s regret is that society\nshould be constructed on such a basis that man has been forced into a\ngroove in which he cannot freely develop what is wonderful, and\nfascinating, and delightful in him\u2014in which, in fact, he misses the true\npleasure and joy of living.  He is also, under existing conditions, very\ninsecure.  An enormously wealthy merchant may be\u2014often is\u2014at every moment\nof his life at the mercy of things that are not under his control.  If\nthe wind blows an extra point or so, or the weather suddenly changes, or\nsome trivial thing happens, his ship may go down, his speculations may go\nwrong, and he finds himself a poor man, with his social position quite\ngone.  Now, nothing should be able to harm a man except himself.  Nothing\nshould be able to rob a man at all.  What a man really has, is what is in\nhim.  What is outside of him should be a matter of no importance.\n\nWith the abolition of private property, then, we shall have true,\nbeautiful, healthy Individualism.  Nobody will waste his life in\naccumulating things, and the symbols for things.  One will live.  To live\nis the rarest thing in the world.  Most people exist, that is all.\n\nIt is a question whether we have ever seen the full expression of a\npersonality, except on the imaginative plane of art.  In action, we never\nhave.  C\u00e6sar, says Mommsen, was the complete and perfect man.  But how\ntragically insecure was C\u00e6sar!  Wherever there is a man who exercises\nauthority, there is a man who resists authority.  C\u00e6sar was very perfect,\nbut his perfection travelled by too dangerous a road.  Marcus Aurelius\nwas the perfect man, says Renan.  Yes; the great emperor was a perfect\nman.  But how intolerable were the endless claims upon him!  He staggered\nunder the burden of the empire.  He was conscious how inadequate one man\nwas to bear the weight of that Titan and too vast orb.  What I mean by a\nperfect man is one who develops under perfect conditions; one who is not\nwounded, or worried or maimed, or in danger.  Most personalities have\nbeen obliged to be rebels.  Half their strength has been wasted in\nfriction.  Byron\u2019s personality, for instance, was terribly wasted in its\nbattle with the stupidity, and hypocrisy, and Philistinism of the\nEnglish.  Such battles do not always intensify strength: they often\nexaggerate weakness.  Byron was never able to give us what he might have\ngiven us.  Shelley escaped better.  Like Byron, he got out of England as\nsoon as possible.  But he was not so well known.  If the English had had\nany idea of what a great poet he really was, they would have fallen on\nhim with tooth and nail, and made his life as unbearable to him as they\npossibly could.  But he was not a remarkable figure in society, and\nconsequently he escaped, to a certain degree.  Still, even in Shelley the\nnote of rebellion is sometimes too strong.  The note of the perfect\npersonality is not rebellion, but peace.\n\nIt will be a marvellous thing\u2014the true personality of man\u2014when we see it.\nIt will grow naturally and simply, flowerlike, or as a tree grows.  It\nwill not be at discord.  It will never argue or dispute.  It will not\nprove things.  It will know everything.  And yet it will not busy itself\nabout knowledge.  It will have wisdom.  Its value will not be measured by\nmaterial things.  It will have nothing.  And yet it will have everything,\nand whatever one takes from it, it will still have, so rich will it be.\nIt will not be always meddling with others, or asking them to be like\nitself.  It will love them because they will be different.  And yet while\nit will not meddle with others, it will help all, as a beautiful thing\nhelps us, by being what it is.  The personality of man will be very\nwonderful.  It will be as wonderful as the personality of a child.\n\nIn its development it will be assisted by Christianity, if men desire\nthat; but if men do not desire that, it will develop none the less\nsurely.  For it will not worry itself about the past, nor care whether\nthings happened or did not happen.  Nor will it admit any laws but its\nown laws; nor any authority but its own authority.  Yet it will love\nthose who sought to intensify it, and speak often of them.  And of these\nChrist was one.\n\n\u2018Know thyself\u2019 was written over the portal of the antique world.  Over\nthe portal of the new world, \u2018Be thyself\u2019 shall be written.  And the\nmessage of Christ to man was simply \u2018Be thyself.\u2019  That is the secret of\nChrist.\n\nWhen Jesus talks about the poor he simply means personalities, just as\nwhen he talks about the rich he simply means people who have not\ndeveloped their personalities.  Jesus moved in a community that allowed\nthe accumulation of private property just as ours does, and the gospel\nthat he preached was not that in such a community it is an advantage for\na man to live on scanty, unwholesome food, to wear ragged, unwholesome\nclothes, to sleep in horrid, unwholesome dwellings, and a disadvantage\nfor a man to live under healthy, pleasant, and decent conditions.  Such a\nview would have been wrong there and then, and would, of course, be still\nmore wrong now and in England; for as man moves northward the material\nnecessities of life become of more vital importance, and our society is\ninfinitely more complex, and displays far greater extremes of luxury and\npauperism than any society of the antique world.  What Jesus meant, was\nthis.  He said to man, \u2018You have a wonderful personality.  Develop it.\nBe yourself.  Don\u2019t imagine that your perfection lies in accumulating or\npossessing external things.  Your affection is inside of you.  If only\nyou could realise that, you would not want to be rich.  Ordinary riches\ncan be stolen from a man.  Real riches cannot.  In the treasury-house of\nyour soul, there are infinitely precious things, that may not be taken\nfrom you.  And so, try to so shape your life that external things will\nnot harm you.  And try also to get rid of personal property.  It involves\nsordid preoccupation, endless industry, continual wrong.  Personal\nproperty hinders Individualism at every step.\u2019  It is to be noted that\nJesus never says that impoverished people are necessarily good, or\nwealthy people necessarily bad.  That would not have been true.  Wealthy\npeople are, as a class, better than impoverished people, more moral, more\nintellectual, more well-behaved.  There is only one class in the\ncommunity that thinks more about money than the rich, and that is the\npoor.  The poor can think of nothing else.  That is the misery of being\npoor.  What Jesus does say is that man reaches his perfection, not\nthrough what he has, not even through what he does, but entirely through\nwhat he is.  And so the wealthy young man who comes to Jesus is\nrepresented as a thoroughly good citizen, who has broken none of the laws\nof his state, none of the commandments of his religion.  He is quite\nrespectable, in the ordinary sense of that extraordinary word.  Jesus\nsays to him, \u2018You should give up private property.  It hinders you from\nrealising your perfection.  It is a drag upon you.  It is a burden.  Your\npersonality does not need it.  It is within you, and not outside of you,\nthat you will find what you really are, and what you really want.\u2019  To\nhis own friends he says the same thing.  He tells them to be themselves,\nand not to be always worrying about other things.  What do other things\nmatter?  Man is complete in himself.  When they go into the world, the\nworld will disagree with them.  That is inevitable.  The world hates\nIndividualism.  But that is not to trouble them.  They are to be calm and\nself-centred.  If a man takes their cloak, they are to give him their\ncoat, just to show that material things are of no importance.  If people\nabuse them, they are not to answer back.  What does it signify?  The\nthings people say of a man do not alter a man.  He is what he is.  Public\nopinion is of no value whatsoever.  Even if people employ actual\nviolence, they are not to be violent in turn.  That would be to fall to\nthe same low level.  After all, even in prison, a man can be quite free.\nHis soul can be free.  His personality can be untroubled.  He can be at\npeace.  And, above all things, they are not to interfere with other\npeople or judge them in any way.  Personality is a very mysterious thing.\nA man cannot always be estimated by what he does.  He may keep the law,\nand yet be worthless.  He may break the law, and yet be fine.  He may be\nbad, without ever doing anything bad.  He may commit a sin against\nsociety, and yet realise through that sin his true perfection.\n\nThere was a woman who was taken in adultery.  We are not told the history\nof her love, but that love must have been very great; for Jesus said that\nher sins were forgiven her, not because she repented, but because her\nlove was so intense and wonderful.  Later on, a short time before his\ndeath, as he sat at a feast, the woman came in and poured costly perfumes\non his hair.  His friends tried to interfere with her, and said that it\nwas an extravagance, and that the money that the perfume cost should have\nbeen expended on charitable relief of people in want, or something of\nthat kind.  Jesus did not accept that view.  He pointed out that the\nmaterial needs of Man were great and very permanent, but that the\nspiritual needs of Man were greater still, and that in one divine moment,\nand by selecting its own mode of expression, a personality might make\nitself perfect.  The world worships the woman, even now, as a saint.\n\nYes; there are suggestive things in Individualism.  Socialism annihilates\nfamily life, for instance.  With the abolition of private property,\nmarriage in its present form must disappear.  This is part of the\nprogramme.  Individualism accepts this and makes it fine.  It converts\nthe abolition of legal restraint into a form of freedom that will help\nthe full development of personality, and make the love of man and woman\nmore wonderful, more beautiful, and more ennobling.  Jesus knew this.  He\nrejected the claims of family life, although they existed in his day and\ncommunity in a very marked form.  \u2018Who is my mother?  Who are my\nbrothers?\u2019 he said, when he was told that they wished to speak to him.\nWhen one of his followers asked leave to go and bury his father, \u2018Let the\ndead bury the dead,\u2019 was his terrible answer.  He would allow no claim\nwhatsoever to be made on personality.\n\nAnd so he who would lead a Christlike life is he who is perfectly and\nabsolutely himself.  He may be a great poet, or a great man of science;\nor a young student at a University, or one who watches sheep upon a moor;\nor a maker of dramas, like Shakespeare, or a thinker about God, like\nSpinoza; or a child who plays in a garden, or a fisherman who throws his\nnet into the sea.  It does not matter what he is, as long as he realises\nthe perfection of the soul that is within him.  All imitation in morals\nand in life is wrong.  Through the streets of Jerusalem at the present\nday crawls one who is mad and carries a wooden cross on his shoulders.\nHe is a symbol of the lives that are marred by imitation.  Father Damien\nwas Christlike when he went out to live with the lepers, because in such\nservice he realised fully what was best in him.  But he was not more\nChristlike than Wagner when he realised his soul in music; or than\nShelley, when he realised his soul in song.  There is no one type for\nman.  There are as many perfections as there are imperfect men.  And\nwhile to the claims of charity a man may yield and yet be free, to the\nclaims of conformity no man may yield and remain free at all.\n\nIndividualism, then, is what through Socialism we are to attain to.  As a\nnatural result the State must give up all idea of government.  It must\ngive it up because, as a wise man once said many centuries before Christ,\nthere is such a thing as leaving mankind alone; there is no such thing as\ngoverning mankind.  All modes of government are failures.  Despotism is\nunjust to everybody, including the despot, who was probably made for\nbetter things.  Oligarchies are unjust to the many, and ochlocracies are\nunjust to the few.  High hopes were once formed of democracy; but\ndemocracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for\nthe people.  It has been found out.  I must say that it was high time,\nfor all authority is quite degrading.  It degrades those who exercise it,\nand degrades those over whom it is exercised.  When it is violently,\ngrossly, and cruelly used, it produces a good effect, by creating, or at\nany rate bringing out, the spirit of revolt and Individualism that is to\nkill it.  When it is used with a certain amount of kindness, and\naccompanied by prizes and rewards, it is dreadfully demoralising.\nPeople, in that case, are less conscious of the horrible pressure that is\nbeing put on them, and so go through their lives in a sort of coarse\ncomfort, like petted animals, without ever realising that they are\nprobably thinking other people\u2019s thoughts, living by other people\u2019s\nstandards, wearing practically what one may call other people\u2019s\nsecond-hand clothes, and never being themselves for a single moment.  \u2018He\nwho would be free,\u2019 says a fine thinker, \u2018must not conform.\u2019  And\nauthority, by bribing people to conform, produces a very gross kind of\nover-fed barbarism amongst us.\n\nWith authority, punishment will pass away.  This will be a great gain\u2014a\ngain, in fact, of incalculable value.  As one reads history, not in the\nexpurgated editions written for school-boys and passmen, but in the\noriginal authorities of each time, one is absolutely sickened, not by the\ncrimes that the wicked have committed, but by the punishments that the\ngood have inflicted; and a community is infinitely more brutalised by the\nhabitual employment of punishment, than it is by the occurrence of crime.\nIt obviously follows that the more punishment is inflicted the more crime\nis produced, and most modern legislation has clearly recognised this, and\nhas made it its task to diminish punishment as far as it thinks it can.\nWherever it has really diminished it, the results have always been\nextremely good.  The less punishment, the less crime.  When there is no\npunishment at all, crime will either cease to exist, or, if it occurs,\nwill be treated by physicians as a very distressing form of dementia, to\nbe cured by care and kindness.  For what are called criminals nowadays\nare not criminals at all.  Starvation, and not sin, is the parent of\nmodern crime.  That indeed is the reason why our criminals are, as a\nclass, so absolutely uninteresting from any psychological point of view.\nThey are not marvellous Macbeths and terrible Vautrins.  They are merely\nwhat ordinary, respectable, commonplace people would be if they had not\ngot enough to eat.  When private property is abolished there will be no\nnecessity for crime, no demand for it; it will cease to exist.  Of\ncourse, all crimes are not crimes against property, though such are the\ncrimes that the English law, valuing what a man has more than what a man\nis, punishes with the harshest and most horrible severity, if we except\nthe crime of murder, and regard death as worse than penal servitude, a\npoint on which our criminals, I believe, disagree.  But though a crime\nmay not be against property, it may spring from the misery and rage and\ndepression produced by our wrong system of property-holding, and so, when\nthat system is abolished, will disappear.  When each member of the\ncommunity has sufficient for his wants, and is not interfered with by his\nneighbour, it will not be an object of any interest to him to interfere\nwith anyone else.  Jealousy, which is an extraordinary source of crime in\nmodern life, is an emotion closely bound up with our conceptions of\nproperty, and under Socialism and Individualism will die out.  It is\nremarkable that in communistic tribes jealousy is entirely unknown.\n\nNow as the State is not to govern, it may be asked what the State is to\ndo.  The State is to be a voluntary association that will organise\nlabour, and be the manufacturer and distributor of necessary commodities.\nThe State is to make what is useful.  The individual is to make what is\nbeautiful.  And as I have mentioned the word labour, I cannot help saying\nthat a great deal of nonsense is being written and talked nowadays about\nthe dignity of manual labour.  There is nothing necessarily dignified\nabout manual labour at all, and most of it is absolutely degrading.  It\nis mentally and morally injurious to man to do anything in which he does\nnot find pleasure, and many forms of labour are quite pleasureless\nactivities, and should be regarded as such.  To sweep a slushy crossing\nfor eight hours, on a day when the east wind is blowing is a disgusting\noccupation.  To sweep it with mental, moral, or physical dignity seems to\nme to be impossible.  To sweep it with joy would be appalling.  Man is\nmade for something better than disturbing dirt.  All work of that kind\nshould be done by a machine.\n\nAnd I have no doubt that it will be so.  Up to the present, man has been,\nto a certain extent, the slave of machinery, and there is something\ntragic in the fact that as soon as man had invented a machine to do his\nwork he began to starve.  This, however, is, of course, the result of our\nproperty system and our system of competition.  One man owns a machine\nwhich does the work of five hundred men.  Five hundred men are, in\nconsequence, thrown out of employment, and, having no work to do, become\nhungry and take to thieving.  The one man secures the produce of the\nmachine and keeps it, and has five hundred times as much as he should\nhave, and probably, which is of much more importance, a great deal more\nthan he really wants.  Were that machine the property of all, every one\nwould benefit by it.  It would be an immense advantage to the community.\nAll unintellectual labour, all monotonous, dull labour, all labour that\ndeals with dreadful things, and involves unpleasant conditions, must be\ndone by machinery.  Machinery must work for us in coal mines, and do all\nsanitary services, and be the stoker of steamers, and clean the streets,\nand run messages on wet days, and do anything that is tedious or\ndistressing.  At present machinery competes against man.  Under proper\nconditions machinery will serve man.  There is no doubt at all that this\nis the future of machinery, and just as trees grow while the country\ngentleman is asleep, so while Humanity will be amusing itself, or\nenjoying cultivated leisure\u2014which, and not labour, is the aim of man\u2014or\nmaking beautiful things, or reading beautiful things, or simply\ncontemplating the world with admiration and delight, machinery will be\ndoing all the necessary and unpleasant work.  The fact is, that\ncivilisation requires slaves.  The Greeks were quite right there.  Unless\nthere are slaves to do the ugly, horrible, uninteresting work, culture\nand contemplation become almost impossible.  Human slavery is wrong,\ninsecure, and demoralising.  On mechanical slavery, on the slavery of the\nmachine, the future of the world depends.  And when scientific men are no\nlonger called upon to go down to a depressing East End and distribute bad\ncocoa and worse blankets to starving people, they will have delightful\nleisure in which to devise wonderful and marvellous things for their own\njoy and the joy of everyone else.  There will be great storages of force\nfor every city, and for every house if required, and this force man will\nconvert into heat, light, or motion, according to his needs.  Is this\nUtopian?  A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth\neven glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is\nalways landing.  And when Humanity lands there, it looks out, and, seeing\na better country, sets sail.  Progress is the realisation of Utopias.\n\nNow, I have said that the community by means of organisation of machinery\nwill supply the useful things, and that the beautiful things will be made\nby the individual.  This is not merely necessary, but it is the only\npossible way by which we can get either the one or the other.  An\nindividual who has to make things for the use of others, and with\nreference to their wants and their wishes, does not work with interest,\nand consequently cannot put into his work what is best in him.  Upon the\nother hand, whenever a community or a powerful section of a community, or\na government of any kind, attempts to dictate to the artist what he is to\ndo, Art either entirely vanishes, or becomes stereotyped, or degenerates\ninto a low and ignoble form of craft.  A work of art is the unique result\nof a unique temperament.  Its beauty comes from the fact that the author\nis what he is.  It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want\nwhat they want.  Indeed, the moment that an artist takes notice of what\nother people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an\nartist, and becomes a dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or a\ndishonest tradesman.  He has no further claim to be considered as an\nartist.  Art is the most intense mode of Individualism that the world has\nknown.  I am inclined to say that it is the only real mode of\nIndividualism that the world has known.  Crime, which, under certain\nconditions, may seem to have created Individualism, must take cognisance\nof other people and interfere with them.  It belongs to the sphere of\naction.  But alone, without any reference to his neighbours, without any\ninterference, the artist can fashion a beautiful thing; and if he does\nnot do it solely for his own pleasure, he is not an artist at all.\n\nAnd it is to be noted that it is the fact that Art is this intense form\nof Individualism that makes the public try to exercise over it in an\nauthority that is as immoral as it is ridiculous, and as corrupting as it\nis contemptible.  It is not quite their fault.  The public has always,\nand in every age, been badly brought up.  They are continually asking Art\nto be popular, to please their want of taste, to flatter their absurd\nvanity, to tell them what they have been told before, to show them what\nthey ought to be tired of seeing, to amuse them when they feel heavy\nafter eating too much, and to distract their thoughts when they are\nwearied of their own stupidity.  Now Art should never try to be popular.\nThe public should try to make itself artistic.  There is a very wide\ndifference.  If a man of science were told that the results of his\nexperiments, and the conclusions that he arrived at, should be of such a\ncharacter that they would not upset the received popular notions on the\nsubject, or disturb popular prejudice, or hurt the sensibilities of\npeople who knew nothing about science; if a philosopher were told that he\nhad a perfect right to speculate in the highest spheres of thought,\nprovided that he arrived at the same conclusions as were held by those\nwho had never thought in any sphere at all\u2014well, nowadays the man of\nscience and the philosopher would be considerably amused.  Yet it is\nreally a very few years since both philosophy and science were subjected\nto brutal popular control, to authority in fact\u2014the authority of either\nthe general ignorance of the community, or the terror and greed for power\nof an ecclesiastical or governmental class.  Of course, we have to a very\ngreat extent got rid of any attempt on the part of the community, or the\nChurch, or the Government, to interfere with the individualism of\nspeculative thought, but the attempt to interfere with the individualism\nof imaginative art still lingers.  In fact, it does more than linger; it\nis aggressive, offensive, and brutalising.\n\nIn England, the arts that have escaped best are the arts in which the\npublic take no interest.  Poetry is an instance of what I mean.  We have\nbeen able to have fine poetry in England because the public do not read\nit, and consequently do not influence it.  The public like to insult\npoets because they are individual, but once they have insulted them, they\nleave them alone.  In the case of the novel and the drama, arts in which\nthe public do take an interest, the result of the exercise of popular\nauthority has been absolutely ridiculous.  No country produces such\nbadly-written fiction, such tedious, common work in the novel form, such\nsilly, vulgar plays as England.  It must necessarily be so.  The popular\nstandard is of such a character that no artist can get to it.  It is at\nonce too easy and too difficult to be a popular novelist.  It is too\neasy, because the requirements of the public as far as plot, style,\npsychology, treatment of life, and treatment of literature are concerned\nare within the reach of the very meanest capacity and the most\nuncultivated mind.  It is too difficult, because to meet such\nrequirements the artist would have to do violence to his temperament,\nwould have to write not for the artistic joy of writing, but for the\namusement of half-educated people, and so would have to suppress his\nindividualism, forget his culture, annihilate his style, and surrender\neverything that is valuable in him.  In the case of the drama, things are\na little better: the theatre-going public like the obvious, it is true,\nbut they do not like the tedious; and burlesque and farcical comedy, the\ntwo most popular forms, are distinct forms of art.  Delightful work may\nbe produced under burlesque and farcical conditions, and in work of this\nkind the artist in England is allowed very great freedom.  It is when one\ncomes to the higher forms of the drama that the result of popular control\nis seen.  The one thing that the public dislike is novelty.  Any attempt\nto extend the subject-matter of art is extremely distasteful to the\npublic; and yet the vitality and progress of art depend in a large\nmeasure on the continual extension of subject-matter.  The public dislike\nnovelty because they are afraid of it.  It represents to them a mode of\nIndividualism, an assertion on the part of the artist that he selects his\nown subject, and treats it as he chooses.  The public are quite right in\ntheir attitude.  Art is Individualism, and Individualism is a disturbing\nand disintegrating force.  Therein lies its immense value.  For what it\nseeks to disturb is monotony of type, slavery of custom, tyranny of\nhabit, and the reduction of man to the level of a machine.  In Art, the\npublic accept what has been, because they cannot alter it, not because\nthey appreciate it.  They swallow their classics whole, and never taste\nthem.  They endure them as the inevitable, and as they cannot mar them,\nthey mouth about them.  Strangely enough, or not strangely, according to\none\u2019s own views, this acceptance of the classics does a great deal of\nharm.  The uncritical admiration of the Bible and Shakespeare in England\nis an instance of what I mean.  With regard to the Bible, considerations\nof ecclesiastical authority enter into the matter, so that I need not\ndwell upon the point.\n\nBut in the case of Shakespeare it is quite obvious that the public really\nsee neither the beauties nor the defects of his plays.  If they saw the\nbeauties, they would not object to the development of the drama; and if\nthey saw the defects, they would not object to the development of the\ndrama either.  The fact is, the public make use of the classics of a\ncountry as a means of checking the progress of Art.  They degrade the\nclassics into authorities.  They use them as bludgeons for preventing the\nfree expression of Beauty in new forms.  They are always asking a writer\nwhy he does not write like somebody else, or a painter why he does not\npaint like somebody else, quite oblivious of the fact that if either of\nthem did anything of the kind he would cease to be an artist.  A fresh\nmode of Beauty is absolutely distasteful to them, and whenever it appears\nthey get so angry, and bewildered that they always use two stupid\nexpressions\u2014one is that the work of art is grossly unintelligible; the\nother, that the work of art is grossly immoral.  What they mean by these\nwords seems to me to be this.  When they say a work is grossly\nunintelligible, they mean that the artist has said or made a beautiful\nthing that is new; when they describe a work as grossly immoral, they\nmean that the artist has said or made a beautiful thing that is true.\nThe former expression has reference to style; the latter to\nsubject-matter.  But they probably use the words very vaguely, as an\nordinary mob will use ready-made paving-stones.  There is not a single\nreal poet or prose-writer of this century, for instance, on whom the\nBritish public have not solemnly conferred diplomas of immorality, and\nthese diplomas practically take the place, with us, of what in France, is\nthe formal recognition of an Academy of Letters, and fortunately make the\nestablishment of such an institution quite unnecessary in England.  Of\ncourse, the public are very reckless in their use of the word.  That they\nshould have called Wordsworth an immoral poet, was only to be expected.\nWordsworth was a poet.  But that they should have called Charles Kingsley\nan immoral novelist is extraordinary.  Kingsley\u2019s prose was not of a very\nfine quality.  Still, there is the word, and they use it as best they\ncan.  An artist is, of course, not disturbed by it.  The true artist is a\nman who believes absolutely in himself, because he is absolutely himself.\nBut I can fancy that if an artist produced a work of art in England that\nimmediately on its appearance was recognised by the public, through their\nmedium, which is the public press, as a work that was quite intelligible\nand highly moral, he would begin to seriously question whether in its\ncreation he had really been himself at all, and consequently whether the\nwork was not quite unworthy of him, and either of a thoroughly\nsecond-rate order, or of no artistic value whatsoever.\n\nPerhaps, however, I have wronged the public in limiting them to such\nwords as \u2018immoral,\u2019 \u2018unintelligible,\u2019 \u2018exotic,\u2019 and \u2018unhealthy.\u2019  There\nis one other word that they use.  That word is \u2018morbid.\u2019  They do not use\nit often.  The meaning of the word is so simple that they are afraid of\nusing it.  Still, they use it sometimes, and, now and then, one comes\nacross it in popular newspapers.  It is, of course, a ridiculous word to\napply to a work of art.  For what is morbidity but a mood of emotion or a\nmode of thought that one cannot express?  The public are all morbid,\nbecause the public can never find expression for anything.  The artist is\nnever morbid.  He expresses everything.  He stands outside his subject,\nand through its medium produces incomparable and artistic effects.  To\ncall an artist morbid because he deals with morbidity as his\nsubject-matter is as silly as if one called Shakespeare mad because he\nwrote \u2018King Lear.\u2019\n\nOn the whole, an artist in England gains something by being attacked.\nHis individuality is intensified.  He becomes more completely himself.\nOf course, the attacks are very gross, very impertinent, and very\ncontemptible.  But then no artist expects grace from the vulgar mind, or\nstyle from the suburban intellect.  Vulgarity and stupidity are two very\nvivid facts in modern life.  One regrets them, naturally.  But there they\nare.  They are subjects for study, like everything else.  And it is only\nfair to state, with regard to modern journalists, that they always\napologise to one in private for what they have written against one in\npublic.\n\nWithin the last few years two other adjectives, it may be mentioned, have\nbeen added to the very limited vocabulary of art-abuse that is at the\ndisposal of the public.  One is the word \u2018unhealthy,\u2019 the other is the\nword \u2018exotic.\u2019  The latter merely expresses the rage of the momentary\nmushroom against the immortal, entrancing, and exquisitely lovely orchid.\nIt is a tribute, but a tribute of no importance.  The word \u2018unhealthy,\u2019\nhowever, admits of analysis.  It is a rather interesting word.  In fact,\nit is so interesting that the people who use it do not know what it\nmeans.\n\nWhat does it mean?  What is a healthy, or an unhealthy work of art?  All\nterms that one applies to a work of art, provided that one applies them\nrationally, have reference to either its style or its subject, or to both\ntogether.  From the point of view of style, a healthy work of art is one\nwhose style recognises the beauty of the material it employs, be that\nmaterial one of words or of bronze, of colour or of ivory, and uses that\nbeauty as a factor in producing the \u00e6sthetic effect.  From the point of\nview of subject, a healthy work of art is one the choice of whose subject\nis conditioned by the temperament of the artist, and comes directly out\nof it.  In fine, a healthy work of art is one that has both perfection\nand personality.  Of course, form and substance cannot be separated in a\nwork of art; they are always one.  But for purposes of analysis, and\nsetting the wholeness of \u00e6sthetic impression aside for a moment, we can\nintellectually so separate them.  An unhealthy work of art, on the other\nhand, is a work whose style is obvious, old-fashioned, and common, and\nwhose subject is deliberately chosen, not because the artist has any\npleasure in it, but because he thinks that the public will pay him for\nit.  In fact, the popular novel that the public calls healthy is always a\nthoroughly unhealthy production; and what the public call an unhealthy\nnovel is always a beautiful and healthy work of art.\n\nI need hardly say that I am not, for a single moment, complaining that\nthe public and the public press misuse these words.  I do not see how,\nwith their lack of comprehension of what Art is, they could possibly use\nthem in the proper sense.  I am merely pointing out the misuse; and as\nfor the origin of the misuse and the meaning that lies behind it all, the\nexplanation is very simple.  It comes from the barbarous conception of\nauthority.  It comes from the natural inability of a community corrupted\nby authority to understand or appreciate Individualism.  In a word, it\ncomes from that monstrous and ignorant thing that is called Public\nOpinion, which, bad and well-meaning as it is when it tries to control\naction, is infamous and of evil meaning when it tries to control Thought\nor Art.\n\nIndeed, there is much more to be said in favour of the physical force of\nthe public than there is in favour of the public\u2019s opinion.  The former\nmay be fine.  The latter must be foolish.  It is often said that force is\nno argument.  That, however, entirely depends on what one wants to prove.\nMany of the most important problems of the last few centuries, such as\nthe continuance of personal government in England, or of feudalism in\nFrance, have been solved entirely by means of physical force.  The very\nviolence of a revolution may make the public grand and splendid for a\nmoment.  It was a fatal day when the public discovered that the pen is\nmightier than the paving-stone, and can be made as offensive as the\nbrickbat.  They at once sought for the journalist, found him, developed\nhim, and made him their industrious and well-paid servant.  It is greatly\nto be regretted, for both their sakes.  Behind the barricade there may be\nmuch that is noble and heroic.  But what is there behind the\nleading-article but prejudice, stupidity, cant, and twaddle?  And when\nthese four are joined together they make a terrible force, and constitute\nthe new authority.\n\nIn old days men had the rack.  Now they have the press.  That is an\nimprovement certainly.  But still it is very bad, and wrong, and\ndemoralising.  Somebody\u2014was it Burke?\u2014called journalism the fourth\nestate.  That was true at the time, no doubt.  But at the present moment\nit really is the only estate.  It has eaten up the other three.  The\nLords Temporal say nothing, the Lords Spiritual have nothing to say, and\nthe House of Commons has nothing to say and says it.  We are dominated by\nJournalism.  In America the President reigns for four years, and\nJournalism governs for ever and ever.  Fortunately in America Journalism\nhas carried its authority to the grossest and most brutal extreme.  As a\nnatural consequence it has begun to create a spirit of revolt.  People\nare amused by it, or disgusted by it, according to their temperaments.\nBut it is no longer the real force it was.  It is not seriously treated.\nIn England, Journalism, not, except in a few well-known instances, having\nbeen carried to such excesses of brutality, is still a great factor, a\nreally remarkable power.  The tyranny that it proposes to exercise over\npeople\u2019s private lives seems to me to be quite extraordinary.  The fact\nis, that the public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything,\nexcept what is worth knowing.  Journalism, conscious of this, and having\ntradesman-like habits, supplies their demands.  In centuries before ours\nthe public nailed the ears of journalists to the pump.  That was quite\nhideous.  In this century journalists have nailed their own ears to the\nkeyhole.  That is much worse.  And what aggravates the mischief is that\nthe journalists who are most to blame are not the amusing journalists who\nwrite for what are called Society papers.  The harm is done by the\nserious, thoughtful, earnest journalists, who solemnly, as they are doing\nat present, will drag before the eyes of the public some incident in the\nprivate life of a great statesman, of a man who is a leader of political\nthought as he is a creator of political force, and invite the public to\ndiscuss the incident, to exercise authority in the matter, to give their\nviews, and not merely to give their views, but to carry them into action,\nto dictate to the man upon all other points, to dictate to his party, to\ndictate to his country; in fact, to make themselves ridiculous,\noffensive, and harmful.  The private lives of men and women should not be\ntold to the public.  The public have nothing to do with them at all.  In\nFrance they manage these things better.  There they do not allow the\ndetails of the trials that take place in the divorce courts to be\npublished for the amusement or criticism of the public.  All that the\npublic are allowed to know is that the divorce has taken place and was\ngranted on petition of one or other or both of the married parties\nconcerned.  In France, in fact, they limit the journalist, and allow the\nartist almost perfect freedom.  Here we allow absolute freedom to the\njournalist, and entirely limit the artist.  English public opinion, that\nis to say, tries to constrain and impede and warp the man who makes\nthings that are beautiful in effect, and compels the journalist to retail\nthings that are ugly, or disgusting, or revolting in fact, so that we\nhave the most serious journalists in the world, and the most indecent\nnewspapers.  It is no exaggeration to talk of compulsion.  There are\npossibly some journalists who take a real pleasure in publishing horrible\nthings, or who, being poor, look to scandals as forming a sort of\npermanent basis for an income.  But there are other journalists, I feel\ncertain, men of education and cultivation, who really dislike publishing\nthese things, who know that it is wrong to do so, and only do it because\nthe unhealthy conditions under which their occupation is carried on\noblige them to supply the public with what the public wants, and to\ncompete with other journalists in making that supply as full and\nsatisfying to the gross popular appetite as possible.  It is a very\ndegrading position for any body of educated men to be placed in, and I\nhave no doubt that most of them feel it acutely.\n\nHowever, let us leave what is really a very sordid side of the subject,\nand return to the question of popular control in the matter of Art, by\nwhich I mean Public Opinion dictating to the artist the form which he is\nto use, the mode in which he is to use it, and the materials with which\nhe is to work.  I have pointed out that the arts which have escaped best\nin England are the arts in which the public have not been interested.\nThey are, however, interested in the drama, and as a certain advance has\nbeen made in the drama within the last ten or fifteen years, it is\nimportant to point out that this advance is entirely due to a few\nindividual artists refusing to accept the popular want of taste as their\nstandard, and refusing to regard Art as a mere matter of demand and\nsupply.  With his marvellous and vivid personality, with a style that has\nreally a true colour-element in it, with his extraordinary power, not\nover mere mimicry but over imaginative and intellectual creation, Mr\nIrving, had his sole object been to give the public what they wanted,\ncould have produced the commonest plays in the commonest manner, and made\nas much success and money as a man could possibly desire.  But his object\nwas not that.  His object was to realise his own perfection as an artist,\nunder certain conditions, and in certain forms of Art.  At first he\nappealed to the few: now he has educated the many.  He has created in the\npublic both taste and temperament.  The public appreciate his artistic\nsuccess immensely.  I often wonder, however, whether the public\nunderstand that that success is entirely due to the fact that he did not\naccept their standard, but realised his own.  With their standard the\nLyceum would have been a sort of second-rate booth, as some of the\npopular theatres in London are at present.  Whether they understand it or\nnot the fact however remains, that taste and temperament have, to a\ncertain extent been created in the public, and that the public is capable\nof developing these qualities.  The problem then is, why do not the\npublic become more civilised?  They have the capacity.  What stops them?\n\nThe thing that stops them, it must be said again, is their desire to\nexercise authority over the artist and over works of art.  To certain\ntheatres, such as the Lyceum and the Haymarket, the public seem to come\nin a proper mood.  In both of these theatres there have been individual\nartists, who have succeeded in creating in their audiences\u2014and every\ntheatre in London has its own audience\u2014the temperament to which Art\nappeals.  And what is that temperament?  It is the temperament of\nreceptivity.  That is all.\n\nIf a man approaches a work of art with any desire to exercise authority\nover it and the artist, he approaches it in such a spirit that he cannot\nreceive any artistic impression from it at all.  The work of art is to\ndominate the spectator: the spectator is not to dominate the work of art.\nThe spectator is to be receptive.  He is to be the violin on which the\nmaster is to play.  And the more completely he can suppress his own silly\nviews, his own foolish prejudices, his own absurd ideas of what Art\nshould be, or should not be, the more likely he is to understand and\nappreciate the work of art in question.  This is, of course, quite\nobvious in the case of the vulgar theatre-going public of English men and\nwomen.  But it is equally true of what are called educated people.  For\nan educated person\u2019s ideas of Art are drawn naturally from what Art has\nbeen, whereas the new work of art is beautiful by being what Art has\nnever been; and to measure it by the standard of the past is to measure\nit by a standard on the rejection of which its real perfection depends.\nA temperament capable of receiving, through an imaginative medium, and\nunder imaginative conditions, new and beautiful impressions, is the only\ntemperament that can appreciate a work of art.  And true as this is in\nthe case of the appreciation of sculpture and painting, it is still more\ntrue of the appreciation of such arts as the drama.  For a picture and a\nstatue are not at war with Time.  They take no count of its succession.\nIn one moment their unity may be apprehended.  In the case of literature\nit is different.  Time must be traversed before the unity of effect is\nrealised.  And so, in the drama, there may occur in the first act of the\nplay something whose real artistic value may not be evident to the\nspectator till the third or fourth act is reached.  Is the silly fellow\nto get angry and call out, and disturb the play, and annoy the artists?\nNo.  The honest man is to sit quietly, and know the delightful emotions\nof wonder, curiosity, and suspense.  He is not to go to the play to lose\na vulgar temper.  He is to go to the play to realise an artistic\ntemperament.  He is to go to the play to gain an artistic temperament.\nHe is not the arbiter of the work of art.  He is one who is admitted to\ncontemplate the work of art, and, if the work be fine, to forget in its\ncontemplation and the egotism that mars him\u2014the egotism of his ignorance,\nor the egotism of his information.  This point about the drama is hardly,\nI think, sufficiently recognised.  I can quite understand that were\n\u2018Macbeth\u2019 produced for the first time before a modern London audience,\nmany of the people present would strongly and vigorously object to the\nintroduction of the witches in the first act, with their grotesque\nphrases and their ridiculous words.  But when the play is over one\nrealises that the laughter of the witches in \u2018Macbeth\u2019 is as terrible as\nthe laughter of madness in \u2018Lear,\u2019 more terrible than the laughter of\nIago in the tragedy of the Moor.  No spectator of art needs a more\nperfect mood of receptivity than the spectator of a play.  The moment he\nseeks to exercise authority he becomes the avowed enemy of Art and of\nhimself.  Art does not mind.  It is he who suffers.\n\nWith the novel it is the same thing.  Popular authority and the\nrecognition of popular authority are fatal.  Thackeray\u2019s \u2018Esmond\u2019 is a\nbeautiful work of art because he wrote it to please himself.  In his\nother novels, in \u2018Pendennis,\u2019 in \u2018Philip,\u2019 in \u2018Vanity Fair\u2019 even, at\ntimes, he is too conscious of the public, and spoils his work by\nappealing directly to the sympathies of the public, or by directly\nmocking at them.  A true artist takes no notice whatever of the public.\nThe public are to him non-existent.  He has no poppied or honeyed cakes\nthrough which to give the monster sleep or sustenance.  He leaves that to\nthe popular novelist.  One incomparable novelist we have now in England,\nMr George Meredith.  There are better artists in France, but France has\nno one whose view of life is so large, so varied, so imaginatively true.\nThere are tellers of stories in Russia who have a more vivid sense of\nwhat pain in fiction may be.  But to him belongs philosophy in fiction.\nHis people not merely live, but they live in thought.  One can see them\nfrom myriad points of view.  They are suggestive.  There is soul in them\nand around them.  They are interpretative and symbolic.  And he who made\nthem, those wonderful quickly-moving figures, made them for his own\npleasure, and has never asked the public what they wanted, has never\ncared to know what they wanted, has never allowed the public to dictate\nto him or influence him in any way but has gone on intensifying his own\npersonality, and producing his own individual work.  At first none came\nto him.  That did not matter.  Then the few came to him.  That did not\nchange him.  The many have come now.  He is still the same.  He is an\nincomparable novelist.\n\nWith the decorative arts it is not different.  The public clung with\nreally pathetic tenacity to what I believe were the direct traditions of\nthe Great Exhibition of international vulgarity, traditions that were so\nappalling that the houses in which people lived were only fit for blind\npeople to live in.  Beautiful things began to be made, beautiful colours\ncame from the dyer\u2019s hand, beautiful patterns from the artist\u2019s brain,\nand the use of beautiful things and their value and importance were set\nforth.  The public were really very indignant.  They lost their temper.\nThey said silly things.  No one minded.  No one was a whit the worse.  No\none accepted the authority of public opinion.  And now it is almost\nimpossible to enter any modern house without seeing some recognition of\ngood taste, some recognition of the value of lovely surroundings, some\nsign of appreciation of beauty.  In fact, people\u2019s houses are, as a rule,\nquite charming nowadays.  People have been to a very great extent\ncivilised.  It is only fair to state, however, that the extraordinary\nsuccess of the revolution in house-decoration and furniture and the like\nhas not really been due to the majority of the public developing a very\nfine taste in such matters.  It has been chiefly due to the fact that the\ncraftsmen of things so appreciated the pleasure of making what was\nbeautiful, and woke to such a vivid consciousness of the hideousness and\nvulgarity of what the public had previously wanted, that they simply\nstarved the public out.  It would be quite impossible at the present\nmoment to furnish a room as rooms were furnished a few years ago, without\ngoing for everything to an auction of second-hand furniture from some\nthird-rate lodging-house.  The things are no longer made.  However they\nmay object to it, people must nowadays have something charming in their\nsurroundings.  Fortunately for them, their assumption of authority in\nthese art-matters came to entire grief.\n\nIt is evident, then, that all authority in such things is bad.  People\nsometimes inquire what form of government is most suitable for an artist\nto live under.  To this question there is only one answer.  The form of\ngovernment that is most suitable to the artist is no government at all.\nAuthority over him and his art is ridiculous.  It has been stated that\nunder despotisms artists have produced lovely work.  This is not quite\nso.  Artists have visited despots, not as subjects to be tyrannised over,\nbut as wandering wonder-makers, as fascinating vagrant personalities, to\nbe entertained and charmed and suffered to be at peace, and allowed to\ncreate.  There is this to be said in favour of the despot, that he, being\nan individual, may have culture, while the mob, being a monster, has\nnone.  One who is an Emperor and King may stoop down to pick up a brush\nfor a painter, but when the democracy stoops down it is merely to throw\nmud.  And yet the democracy have not so far to stoop as the emperor.  In\nfact, when they want to throw mud they have not to stoop at all.  But\nthere is no necessity to separate the monarch from the mob; all authority\nis equally bad.\n\nThere are three kinds of despots.  There is the despot who tyrannises\nover the body.  There is the despot who tyrannises over the soul.  There\nis the despot who tyrannises over the soul and body alike.  The first is\ncalled the Prince.  The second is called the Pope.  The third is called\nthe People.  The Prince may be cultivated.  Many Princes have been.  Yet\nin the Prince there is danger.  One thinks of Dante at the bitter feast\nin Verona, of Tasso in Ferrara\u2019s madman\u2019s cell.  It is better for the\nartist not to live with Princes.  The Pope may be cultivated.  Many Popes\nhave been; the bad Popes have been.  The bad Popes loved Beauty, almost\nas passionately, nay, with as much passion as the good Popes hated\nThought.  To the wickedness of the Papacy humanity owes much.  The\ngoodness of the Papacy owes a terrible debt to humanity.  Yet, though the\nVatican has kept the rhetoric of its thunders, and lost the rod of its\nlightning, it is better for the artist not to live with Popes.  It was a\nPope who said of Cellini to a conclave of Cardinals that common laws and\ncommon authority were not made for men such as he; but it was a Pope who\nthrust Cellini into prison, and kept him there till he sickened with\nrage, and created unreal visions for himself, and saw the gilded sun\nenter his room, and grew so enamoured of it that he sought to escape, and\ncrept out from tower to tower, and falling through dizzy air at dawn,\nmaimed himself, and was by a vine-dresser covered with vine leaves, and\ncarried in a cart to one who, loving beautiful things, had care of him.\nThere is danger in Popes.  And as for the People, what of them and their\nauthority?  Perhaps of them and their authority one has spoken enough.\nTheir authority is a thing blind, deaf, hideous, grotesque, tragic,\namusing, serious, and obscene.  It is impossible for the artist to live\nwith the People.  All despots bribe.  The people bribe and brutalise.\nWho told them to exercise authority?  They were made to live, to listen,\nand to love.  Someone has done them a great wrong.  They have marred\nthemselves by imitation of their inferiors.  They have taken the sceptre\nof the Prince.  How should they use it?  They have taken the triple tiara\nof the Pope.  How should they carry its burden?  They are as a clown\nwhose heart is broken.  They are as a priest whose soul is not yet born.\nLet all who love Beauty pity them.  Though they themselves love not\nBeauty, yet let them pity themselves.  Who taught them the trick of\ntyranny?\n\nThere are many other things that one might point out.  One might point\nout how the Renaissance was great, because it sought to solve no social\nproblem, and busied itself not about such things, but suffered the\nindividual to develop freely, beautifully, and naturally, and so had\ngreat and individual artists, and great and individual men.  One might\npoint out how Louis XIV., by creating the modern state, destroyed the\nindividualism of the artist, and made things monstrous in their monotony\nof repetition, and contemptible in their conformity to rule, and\ndestroyed throughout all France all those fine freedoms of expression\nthat had made tradition new in beauty, and new modes one with antique\nform.  But the past is of no importance.  The present is of no\nimportance.  It is with the future that we have to deal.  For the past is\nwhat man should not have been.  The present is what man ought not to be.\nThe future is what artists are.\n\nIt will, of course, be said that such a scheme as is set forth here is\nquite unpractical, and goes against human nature.  This is perfectly\ntrue.  It is unpractical, and it goes against human nature.  This is why\nit is worth carrying out, and that is why one proposes it.  For what is a\npractical scheme?  A practical scheme is either a scheme that is already\nin existence, or a scheme that could be carried out under existing\nconditions.  But it is exactly the existing conditions that one objects\nto; and any scheme that could accept these conditions is wrong and\nfoolish.  The conditions will be done away with, and human nature will\nchange.  The only thing that one really knows about human nature is that\nit changes.  Change is the one quality we can predicate of it.  The\nsystems that fail are those that rely on the permanency of human nature,\nand not on its growth and development.  The error of Louis XIV. was that\nhe thought human nature would always be the same.  The result of his\nerror was the French Revolution.  It was an admirable result.  All the\nresults of the mistakes of governments are quite admirable.\n\nIt is to be noted also that Individualism does not come to man with any\nsickly cant about duty, which merely means doing what other people want\nbecause they want it; or any hideous cant about self-sacrifice, which is\nmerely a survival of savage mutilation.  In fact, it does not come to man\nwith any claims upon him at all.  It comes naturally and inevitably out\nof man.  It is the point to which all development tends.  It is the\ndifferentiation to which all organisms grow.  It is the perfection that\nis inherent in every mode of life, and towards which every mode of life\nquickens.  And so Individualism exercises no compulsion over man.  On the\ncontrary, it says to man that he should suffer no compulsion to be\nexercised over him.  It does not try to force people to be good.  It\nknows that people are good when they are let alone.  Man will develop\nIndividualism out of himself.  Man is now so developing Individualism.\nTo ask whether Individualism is practical is like asking whether\nEvolution is practical.  Evolution is the law of life, and there is no\nevolution except towards Individualism.  Where this tendency is not\nexpressed, it is a case of artificially-arrested growth, or of disease,\nor of death.\n\nIndividualism will also be unselfish and unaffected.  It has been pointed\nout that one of the results of the extraordinary tyranny of authority is\nthat words are absolutely distorted from their proper and simple meaning,\nand are used to express the obverse of their right signification.  What\nis true about Art is true about Life.  A man is called affected,\nnowadays, if he dresses as he likes to dress.  But in doing that he is\nacting in a perfectly natural manner.  Affectation, in such matters,\nconsists in dressing according to the views of one\u2019s neighbour, whose\nviews, as they are the views of the majority, will probably be extremely\nstupid.  Or a man is called selfish if he lives in the manner that seems\nto him most suitable for the full realisation of his own personality; if,\nin fact, the primary aim of his life is self-development.  But this is\nthe way in which everyone should live.  Selfishness is not living as one\nwishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.  And\nunselfishness is letting other people\u2019s lives alone, not interfering with\nthem.  Selfishness always aims at creating around it an absolute\nuniformity of type.  Unselfishness recognises infinite variety of type as\na delightful thing, accepts it, acquiesces in it, enjoys it.  It is not\nselfish to think for oneself.  A man who does not think for himself does\nnot think at all.  It is grossly selfish to require of ones neighbour\nthat he should think in the same way, and hold the same opinions.  Why\nshould he?  If he can think, he will probably think differently.  If he\ncannot think, it is monstrous to require thought of any kind from him.  A\nred rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose.  It would be\nhorribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be\nboth red and roses.  Under Individualism people will be quite natural and\nabsolutely unselfish, and will know the meanings of the words, and\nrealise them in their free, beautiful lives.  Nor will men be egotistic\nas they are now.  For the egotist is he who makes claims upon others, and\nthe Individualist will not desire to do that.  It will not give him\npleasure.  When man has realised Individualism, he will also realise\nsympathy and exercise it freely and spontaneously.  Up to the present man\nhas hardly cultivated sympathy at all.  He has merely sympathy with pain,\nand sympathy with pain is not the highest form of sympathy.  All sympathy\nis fine, but sympathy with suffering is the least fine mode.  It is\ntainted with egotism.  It is apt to become morbid.  There is in it a\ncertain element of terror for our own safety.  We become afraid that we\nourselves might be as the leper or as the blind, and that no man would\nhave care of us.  It is curiously limiting, too.  One should sympathise\nwith the entirety of life, not with life\u2019s sores and maladies merely, but\nwith life\u2019s joy and beauty and energy and health and freedom.  The wider\nsympathy is, of course, the more difficult.  It requires more\nunselfishness.  Anybody can sympathise with the sufferings of a friend,\nbut it requires a very fine nature\u2014it requires, in fact, the nature of a\ntrue Individualist\u2014to sympathise with a friend\u2019s success.\n\nIn the modern stress of competition and struggle for place, such sympathy\nis naturally rare, and is also very much stifled by the immoral ideal of\nuniformity of type and conformity to rule which is so prevalent\neverywhere, and is perhaps most obnoxious in England.\n\nSympathy with pain there will, of course, always be.  It is one of the\nfirst instincts of man.  The animals which are individual, the higher\nanimals, that is to say, share it with us.  But it must be remembered\nthat while sympathy with joy intensifies the sum of joy in the world,\nsympathy with pain does not really diminish the amount of pain.  It may\nmake man better able to endure evil, but the evil remains.  Sympathy with\nconsumption does not cure consumption; that is what Science does.  And\nwhen Socialism has solved the problem of poverty, and Science solved the\nproblem of disease, the area of the sentimentalists will be lessened, and\nthe sympathy of man will be large, healthy, and spontaneous.  Man will\nhave joy in the contemplation of the joyous life of others.\n\nFor it is through joy that the Individualism of the future will develop\nitself.  Christ made no attempt to reconstruct society, and consequently\nthe Individualism that he preached to man could be realised only through\npain or in solitude.  The ideals that we owe to Christ are the ideals of\nthe man who abandons society entirely, or of the man who resists society\nabsolutely.  But man is naturally social.  Even the Thebaid became\npeopled at last.  And though the cenobite realises his personality, it is\noften an impoverished personality that he so realises.  Upon the other\nhand, the terrible truth that pain is a mode through which man may\nrealise himself exercises a wonderful fascination over the world.\nShallow speakers and shallow thinkers in pulpits and on platforms often\ntalk about the world\u2019s worship of pleasure, and whine against it.  But it\nis rarely in the world\u2019s history that its ideal has been one of joy and\nbeauty.  The worship of pain has far more often dominated the world.\nMedi\u00e6valism, with its saints and martyrs, its love of self-torture, its\nwild passion for wounding itself, its gashing with knives, and its\nwhipping with rods\u2014Medi\u00e6valism is real Christianity, and the medi\u00e6val\nChrist is the real Christ.  When the Renaissance dawned upon the world,\nand brought with it the new ideals of the beauty of life and the joy of\nliving, men could not understand Christ.  Even Art shows us that.  The\npainters of the Renaissance drew Christ as a little boy playing with\nanother boy in a palace or a garden, or lying back in his mother\u2019s arms,\nsmiling at her, or at a flower, or at a bright bird; or as a noble,\nstately figure moving nobly through the world; or as a wonderful figure\nrising in a sort of ecstasy from death to life.  Even when they drew him\ncrucified they drew him as a beautiful God on whom evil men had inflicted\nsuffering.  But he did not preoccupy them much.  What delighted them was\nto paint the men and women whom they admired, and to show the loveliness\nof this lovely earth.  They painted many religious pictures\u2014in fact, they\npainted far too many, and the monotony of type and motive is wearisome,\nand was bad for art.  It was the result of the authority of the public in\nart-matters, and is to be deplored.  But their soul was not in the\nsubject.  Raphael was a great artist when he painted his portrait of the\nPope.  When he painted his Madonnas and infant Christs, he is not a great\nartist at all.  Christ had no message for the Renaissance, which was\nwonderful because it brought an ideal at variance with his, and to find\nthe presentation of the real Christ we must go to medi\u00e6val art.  There he\nis one maimed and marred; one who is not comely to look on, because\nBeauty is a joy; one who is not in fair raiment, because that may be a\njoy also: he is a beggar who has a marvellous soul; he is a leper whose\nsoul is divine; he needs neither property nor health; he is a God\nrealising his perfection through pain.\n\nThe evolution of man is slow.  The injustice of men is great.  It was\nnecessary that pain should be put forward as a mode of self-realisation.\nEven now, in some places in the world, the message of Christ is\nnecessary.  No one who lived in modern Russia could possibly realise his\nperfection except by pain.  A few Russian artists have realised\nthemselves in Art; in a fiction that is medi\u00e6val in character, because\nits dominant note is the realisation of men through suffering.  But for\nthose who are not artists, and to whom there is no mode of life but the\nactual life of fact, pain is the only door to perfection.  A Russian who\nlives happily under the present system of government in Russia must\neither believe that man has no soul, or that, if he has, it is not worth\ndeveloping.  A Nihilist who rejects all authority, because he knows\nauthority to be evil, and welcomes all pain, because through that he\nrealises his personality, is a real Christian.  To him the Christian\nideal is a true thing.\n\nAnd yet, Christ did not revolt against authority.  He accepted the\nimperial authority of the Roman Empire and paid tribute.  He endured the\necclesiastical authority of the Jewish Church, and would not repel its\nviolence by any violence of his own.  He had, as I said before, no scheme\nfor the reconstruction of society.  But the modern world has schemes.  It\nproposes to do away with poverty and the suffering that it entails.  It\ndesires to get rid of pain, and the suffering that pain entails.  It\ntrusts to Socialism and to Science as its methods.  What it aims at is an\nIndividualism expressing itself through joy.  This Individualism will be\nlarger, fuller, lovelier than any Individualism has ever been.  Pain is\nnot the ultimate mode of perfection.  It is merely provisional and a\nprotest.  It has reference to wrong, unhealthy, unjust surroundings.\nWhen the wrong, and the disease, and the injustice are removed, it will\nhave no further place.  It will have done its work.  It was a great work,\nbut it is almost over.  Its sphere lessens every day.\n\nNor will man miss it.  For what man has sought for is, indeed, neither\npain nor pleasure, but simply Life.  Man has sought to live intensely,\nfully, perfectly.  When he can do so without exercising restraint on\nothers, or suffering it ever, and his activities are all pleasurable to\nhim, he will be saner, healthier, more civilised, more himself.  Pleasure\nis Nature\u2019s test, her sign of approval.  When man is happy, he is in\nharmony with himself and his environment.  The new Individualism, for\nwhose service Socialism, whether it wills it or not, is working, will be\nperfect harmony.  It will be what the Greeks sought for, but could not,\nexcept in Thought, realise completely, because they had slaves, and fed\nthem; it will be what the Renaissance sought for, but could not realise\ncompletely except in Art, because they had slaves, and starved them.  It\nwill be complete, and through it each man will attain to his perfection.\nThe new Individualism is the new Hellenism.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n               _Reprinted from the_ \u2018_Fortnightly Review_,\u2019\n               _by permission of Messrs Chapman and Hall_.","title":"The Soul of Man under Socialism","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":14406}